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Tried to keep it in one spot.

[ He doesn't sound sorry, though he did try to at least contain it. Seeing her eases some of the tension from his shoulders, smooths the worry lines on his forehead. Of course he allows her to take the cigarette from his hand, mechanically moving to light up another one. There's only a few more left in the pack, but he doesn't feel any better after them, just anxious. ]

Talked to Steve. Got into an argument. Told him to go fuck himself.

[Natasha's brows crease instead, concern clear in her expression.]

Somehow, that doesn't sound like the whole story.

[She rolls her thumb over the butt of the cigarette, thoughtful.]

You want to talk about it?

[ He shrugs, at a loss for words for the moment. ]

Things started out fine. We talked, then he said something about dance halls, and I told him my memory of before is still spotty. He got that look.. you know the one. Makes you feel like an asshole. Said he thought that the memories would come back with time. Told him not everything could be fixed and the programming didn't help.. kinda devolved from there into yelling.

[ He looks up from the end of the burning cigarette he just lit, making eye contact with her almost hesitantly. Bucky feels uncertain about things he thought he knew about himself, and it's not often he needs validation.. ]

'm I enough for you?

Oh, James. [They're both ideas—both stubborn, broken, and older than their faces. The world has asked both of them to endure more than men ought to.

She sits down beside him, cigarette held in her far hand while she reaches up with her other and cups the back of his neck to pull him down and kiss his forehead.] I love you, James. I could ask for more.

You're more than enough already.

[ That name, saved only for her, makes him pliant, allowing her to manipulate him how she wants. The leaden weight in his gut lessens a bit with the affection. His head slumps onto her shoulder after that as he lets out a shaky sigh. ]

..Love you, too.

[She kisses his brow gently, then rests her forehead against his for a long moment, her fingers massaging small circles at the base of his skull.]

Listen to me, James.

[Her voice is calm and soft, but with an authoritative air. She knows what she's talking about, and he better fucking believe it.]

You are one of the strongest, best men I know. I know you don't believe that, and it's okay if you don't. But I do.

[She has an idea how hard it is fr him to keep going, to look himself in the mirror and bear up under the weight of all his ghosts and all his guilt. She know how hard it is to go straight when the shadow world is all you know.

If he weren't strong, if he weren't brave, if he weren't good he'd either be dead or still serving crooked masters.]

I don't know what Steve said that got under your skin, but it's just because he doesn't understand what it's like.

[ He listens to her, because of course he does. He can't believe the words she's saying, but it helps lift a bit of that doubt from his tired shoulders. He thought for so long that if he just.. tried to be his own person, things would be okay, but he'll never be what anyone wants him to be because his hands are stained red, and no amount of washing will absolve him of it.

If it weren't for her, he'd have put a bullet through his skull at some point. She makes the ghosts in his head quiet for a while. ]

I tried, Nat.. I tried to get him to understand, but he didn't listen. It didn't matter.

[She cards her fingers through his hair, working apart any snags she hits.]

Steve's going to have to figure some things out. Figure them out again. He hasn't been with the Fleet all that long this time. He hasn't been able to get used to things so much...

[She takes a drag off his cigarette, pausing a long moment and eventually huffing the smoke out through her nose before she continues.]

He might have to go through the five stages of grief before he's ready to understand it, but he will.

[It's barely even a joke. Steve has an idea of Barnes that he'll have to let go of before he can move on. Probably the other Barnes, the one carrying the shield, and Natasha's own words kept the hope alive that the picture of his friend he'd been cherishing for years might still be in the man he'd become, might still be salvageable.

Steve might have to mourn the man he hoped to find before he could reconnect with the man who was still here.]

He's your friend. He's already forgiven you for a lot worse than telling him to fuck off.

..He's already forgiven me for everything I did with HYDRA. Tried to get me to let go of my guilt like it wasn't my responsibility.

[ He thinks that's the part that bothers him the most. Because he wasn't in charge of his body, it wasn't his problem? It's not how guilt works, and his memories don't care about semantics. To him, remembering and having that responsibility helps. If he doesn't remember them, who will? ]

He's forgiven you because it's not your fault. And he's not wrong about that.

[But it's a lot more complicated than that. She strokes his hair steadily, her voice soothing, reasonable.]

He doesn't get that you still have to look yourself in the mirror in the morning, whether or not it was your fault. The blood's still on your hands...

[And some of it the blood of a friend.]

Whether or not you wanted to do it, you pulled the trigger.

[It's complicated. Natasha's good at complicated.]

Told him that and he just got angry.

[ He lets her continue, focusing on the way her fingers move through his hair. ]

But I know. And you know. [And she won't stop. Not until they finish their cigarettes and move into her room.] He doesn't understand yet. He will too, eventually.

For the time being, just... we can let it be like that. We have time.

..Yeah. [ He finishes the mostly-finished cigarette in his hand and follows her easily back to their room. Her room, really, but he's made camp there as a safe space. He'll be happy if the hair petting continues, even for a little while. He's still far too wound up. ]

Don't really have another choice, do we?

[It's okay. Your girl's got you. When the cigarettes are done, she urges him back and sits him down.]

How 'bout you lay down? I could give you a back rub if you want?

[ Bucky nods, taking off his shirt. He probably doesn't need to, but he wants the contact. He needs to feel something other than the ugly knot in his stomach. He stretches out on the bed, pillowing his arms under his head, watching Natasha from his spot.

He'll get her back later, when he's feeling more himself. ]

[That's how it works. And really, all things considered, coming back was having her.

Right now, she knows he needs help relaxing.

She nods approval when he starts to undress. He better believe she meant to strip, and when he's laying down sits beside him, behind his arms, and rubs one hand over his back with one hand, up and down his spine.]

That's better.

Edited 2019-04-22 04:37 (UTC)

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