Chapter 8
Bucky knew Steve would be okay. It was Natasha he was worried about. He had his fair share of nightmares, so he knew a little of what she was going through. Clint was good for her, that much he was sure of, but he had no idea how he would react to what had happened. Flashbacks were always difficult to deal with, even if you were used to having them.
From what Bucky knew of Natasha, he was almost certain she would try to isolate herself so no one else would have to see her lose it.
She seemed a lot calmer than she had before, but they had yet to leave the bathroom. He was worried, but he knew she wasn't going to hurt anyone else. He should probably warn everyone else not to touch her without asking, but he wasn't sure she would appreciate that. He wouldn't, had he been in her position.
Natasha leaned against his side, cheek resting lightly on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m not okay, but no one else is in danger from me.”
“I know.”
There wasn't much else to say and the silence was comfortable enough they didn't really feel the need for any more words. It was nice, knowing there would be no judgement between them. Bucky was sure he could tell her any number of things he had nightmares about and she would get it. It wasn't something he felt with Steve, but that wasn't a bad thing. He didn't want Steve to have to deal with the kinds of things he had.
“Do you want to go back out there?”
Natasha shrugged, but Bucky could feel how tense she was. He wasn't sure if she was worried about what had happened or if she just didn't want to face Clint and Steve, but either way she didn't seem ready to leave.
Before he could say anything else, she pushed off of the door and gave him a smile that he saw through in a second. “Yeah, I'll be fine.”
He didn't buy it, but it certainly wasn't his place to call her out on the lie. Hell, he knew why she didn't want to face it. Even if he didn't know what exactly her nightmares were about, he had plenty of his own to keep his mind occupied.
“You don't have to be.”
She froze, every muscle tensing up until it looked as if she was sculpted from stone. Her eyes were stormy and dark, almost dangerous. For a long, tense moment Bucky wasn't sure he had said the right thing.
“Yes, I do.” Her voice was so quiet, barely loud enough for him to catch the words. “When I walk in there, I can't… I have to be okay, Bucky.”
She was pale and shaking, looking so tense he was almost afraid of what she would do if he approached. There was something dangerous about her, but she was also unbearably kind. He had seen the horror in her eyes once she'd realized what she had done to Steve, and even though he was okay, Bucky knew she would have a hard time forgiving herself. He only knew because he had been there.
“Natasha.” He kept his voice low, hoping he wouldn't startle her. He was fairly certain he could take whatever violence she might dish out, but then he would be in her place and no one wanted that. “It's alright.”
Her eyes were haunted when she looked up at him. And, well, Bucky knew that look all too well. He had seen it on himself in the mirror too many times to count.
She didn't immediately jerk back or make a move to attack him when he slid a hand along her shoulder so he took that as a sign he wasn't about to get murdered. “Wanda and Clint are handling things out there, okay? We can stay in here as long as you need.”
She blinked slowly, almost as if she couldn't quite understand what he'd said. She probably wasn't used to anyone offering to stay with her while she got her shit together.
Bucky understood that, too.
She didn't ask if he meant it, because he wouldn't have said it if he didn't, but she looked like she was ready to run. He offered her a small smile as he slid down the door and settled on the floor. He didn't say anything, but let a comfortable silence fall over them.
Natasha sighed, looking like the weight of the world was on her shoulders as she dropped down next to him. “You're encouraging bad behavior, Barnes. I shouldn't be skipping work.”
He smirked lazily at her. “Enjoy it. You'll probably never get to do it again, you workaholic.”
Natasha snorted out a laugh and looked like she wanted to roll her eyes at him. He was pretty sure the only reason she didn't was because she knew he was right.
Bucky didn't think he'd ever actually seen her take a break before today. It was surprisingly nice to be able to just sit there with her and be in the moment. He didn't think either of them got to do that very often.
There was something about the way she smiled at him that made him want to keep staring. He had seen her smile politely at a customer she probably wanted to beat over the head with a coffee pot and the kind of fond smirk that she had when Clint started rambling, but there was something different about the way she smiled at Bucky. It was almost like she couldn't believe he was there, with her, and not running away.
He only recognized it because it was how he felt, in that moment.
Neither of them said anything, but Natasha rested her head on his shoulder, a warm presence at his side. It felt almost like a betrayal to Steve and Clint, how content he felt, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it when he saw how much it had helped Natasha.
He had been around her a handful of times before, but never long enough to exchange more than a few words. She had been cold, distant, almost seeming afraid to get close to anyone. It reminded Bucky of himself after the war and his arm. It was years later, now, and sometimes he still reverted back to that.
Time didn't heal all wounds, but sometimes it lessened the sting.
Bucky didn't realize he'd nodded off until he came to with a violent jerk, a chill he could never quite shake creeping up his spine. He hoped Natasha didn't notice, but her breathing was too calm, just a little bit too forced, for her to actually be asleep. She had nightmares and now she knew he did, too.
She didn't ask if he was okay because they both knew he wasn't, but she did inch away to give him some space. He appreciated it, but strangely enough he still wanted her close. He usually couldn't stand to have anyone within five feet after a nightmare, but this time it had almost been a relief to realize he wasn't alone.
It was more than a little weird and he was more than a little freaked out about it.
“Bucky?” Her voice has low, hesitant. Maybe she was afraid he would react like she had with Steve. He hated to admit that she might be right.
“I -” He had to stop to clear this throat before continuing. “I'm okay. Sorry if I startled you.”
Her lips twitched like she wanted to smile but knew she shouldn't. He wasn't sure what she found amusing, but suddenly he wanted to know, even if it was at his expense.
“What?” His voice was rough, maybe a little harsher than he'd intended.
She shook her head, but let out a soft sigh. “I'm not laughing at you. It's just… This whole thing, you know? I just realized we're a lot more alike than I thought.”
Bucky couldn't really argue with that.
He didn't really know what to say to that. He had come in here to help her as best as he could, but it looked like she might be the one helping him. It probably should have bothered him more than it did.
“You can tell me about it, if you want.”
She didn't look at him when she spoke, her voice quiet, tone almost too nonchalant. She obviously wanted to help him but wasn't sure of the best way to do that. It was different, a little weird, but he appreciated it all the same.
“I was in the army.” He started out slow, almost afraid of the words. He had only talked to a handful of people about what he'd gone through, and most of them he hadn't had a choice in talking to. “I don't know if you know that. It was never easy, but I was good at it. Not always the best at following orders, but I never have been.”
Bucky couldn't help noticing the way her lips twitched in the start of a smile. He was surprised to find he liked the sight of her smiling at something he had said. It made her look so much kinder than she wanted everyone to believe she was.
Clearing his throat, he forced his gaze away from the captivating redhead sitting next to him. “I'm sure you've noticed my arm.” He shook his head, choking back a laugh. “Kinda hard to miss it.”
Tears burned his eyes as he relived every horrible moment of the day that had claimed most of his left arm. Admittedly, he didn't remember much besides the sheer cold and the agonizing pain that had come with it. He didn't remember them attaching the metallic prosthetic either, although considering it was as much a part of him as his flesh and blood arm he was kind of relieved about that. He hadn't been able to talk for days afterwards and he had been left to guess the soreness in his throat was from screaming.
None of it was anything he wanted to repeat to someone who barely knew him. Not that she seemed bothered by it in the least. If anything, she looked like she was reliving her own horrors.
Maybe there was something to the rumor that she was a Russian assassin, after all.
Her voice was rough with an emotion Bucky couldn't place and wasn't sure he wanted to when she finally spoke. “Let me tell you about the time someone got shot through me while I was trying to get them to safety.”
Bucky wasn't okay, and neither was Natasha, but they could be not okay together. For a little while, at least.