Sam rolled to the side of the mattress and rubbed his eyes. The house had the deep quiet of the middle of the night. Stark had crashed hard around 2300 and they'd agreed it was better to let him get some decent sleep, but that meant Sam was using his vintage air mattress. To his credit, Stark had tried to protest, but Sam's mama hadn't raised him to make a guest sleep on the floor when there was a bed available. At least the man didn't snore.
When Sam wandered out of the bathroom he headed for the living room instead of back to his mattress.
Barnes sat in one of the straight kitchen chairs that he'd set in the living room, a spot with very good sight lines to the condo entrances. Natasha was on the sofa, apparently reading in the light of one table lamp. She looked up as Sam entered the room; Barnes continued to stare ahead but Sam knew better than to think he hadn't noticed.
"I'm up for a while," Sam said. "Why don't you get some sleep?" Natasha gave him a look of mild surprise but he shrugged. "Seriously. I'm wired."
She thought it over and closed her book with a snap. "Thanks," she said as she stood.
Sam wasn't ashamed to admit he watched as she padded down the hall to the guest room where Clint slept. Obviously he couldn't make a move, but that didn't mean he was blind.
"You want coffee or something?" he asked on his way to the kitchen.
Barnes shook his head, so Sam only fished out one mug. When he was done doctoring it he went back out and dropped into Natasha's vacated place on the sofa. He was about halfway through the coffee when Barnes said, "You don't trust me."
Sam raised his eyebrows and swallowed his mouthful. "You have to admit it's hard to trust a guy who tried to kill me less than two weeks ago."
"You're right not to trust me," Barnes said. "I'll kill you all if it'll save Steve." Sam had not yet come up with a response to that when he continued, "I'll kill him if it will save him. I won't let them do this to him."
"This?" Sam repeated. There were at least three possibilities just off the top of his head; he wasn't sure which ones Barnes had enough self-awareness to mean--and he felt an urgent need to know what was going to count as a fate worse than death.
Barnes lifted his metal hand and spread the fingers. Sam felt a pang of pity, but Barnes said, "This is what people see, but this is nothing." He stared at the hand like he'd never seen it before, like it wasn't part of him. "Pain is bad, but pain passes." His eyes, pupils huge in the dim light, flicked up to meet Sam's. "I made myself forget things because it was worse to have them twisted. But some things I didn't forget in time, and only some of them are wrong, and I can't tell the difference." It was the most emotion Sam had ever heard in his voice. "I won't let that happen to him too. Do you understand?"
"I don't think so," Sam said. "Thank fucking God."
Barnes gave him the ghost of a smile, and Sam could have wept because he knew what Bucky Barnes was supposed to look like smiling; everyone had seen that film clip in elementary school. "You understand enough," Barnes said.
Re: FILL: Lie Down on the Wire 7/?
When Sam wandered out of the bathroom he headed for the living room instead of back to his mattress.
Barnes sat in one of the straight kitchen chairs that he'd set in the living room, a spot with very good sight lines to the condo entrances. Natasha was on the sofa, apparently reading in the light of one table lamp. She looked up as Sam entered the room; Barnes continued to stare ahead but Sam knew better than to think he hadn't noticed.
"I'm up for a while," Sam said. "Why don't you get some sleep?" Natasha gave him a look of mild surprise but he shrugged. "Seriously. I'm wired."
She thought it over and closed her book with a snap. "Thanks," she said as she stood.
Sam wasn't ashamed to admit he watched as she padded down the hall to the guest room where Clint slept. Obviously he couldn't make a move, but that didn't mean he was blind.
"You want coffee or something?" he asked on his way to the kitchen.
Barnes shook his head, so Sam only fished out one mug. When he was done doctoring it he went back out and dropped into Natasha's vacated place on the sofa. He was about halfway through the coffee when Barnes said, "You don't trust me."
Sam raised his eyebrows and swallowed his mouthful. "You have to admit it's hard to trust a guy who tried to kill me less than two weeks ago."
"You're right not to trust me," Barnes said. "I'll kill you all if it'll save Steve." Sam had not yet come up with a response to that when he continued, "I'll kill him if it will save him. I won't let them do this to him."
"This?" Sam repeated. There were at least three possibilities just off the top of his head; he wasn't sure which ones Barnes had enough self-awareness to mean--and he felt an urgent need to know what was going to count as a fate worse than death.
Barnes lifted his metal hand and spread the fingers. Sam felt a pang of pity, but Barnes said, "This is what people see, but this is nothing." He stared at the hand like he'd never seen it before, like it wasn't part of him. "Pain is bad, but pain passes." His eyes, pupils huge in the dim light, flicked up to meet Sam's. "I made myself forget things because it was worse to have them twisted. But some things I didn't forget in time, and only some of them are wrong, and I can't tell the difference." It was the most emotion Sam had ever heard in his voice. "I won't let that happen to him too. Do you understand?"
"I don't think so," Sam said. "Thank fucking God."
Barnes gave him the ghost of a smile, and Sam could have wept because he knew what Bucky Barnes was supposed to look like smiling; everyone had seen that film clip in elementary school. "You understand enough," Barnes said.
*
The next morning, Stark found a lead.