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Bucky hated this time of year. The calendar taunted him as the days passed. Natasha had put the calendar up on the refrigerator, a gag gift last Christmas that had shirtless firefighters. He knew he wasn’t the only one who hated this time of year. But it was his fault that the other man did. He knew Tony didn’t like him, perhaps even hated him. There was no making amends for what he had done. None. No matter how many times Steve said it wasn’t him, not really. No matter how many times Sam tried to get him to talk about it. Bucky felt grateful that Tony let him live at the compound. The other man still avoided him when he could, ignored him when it was unavoidable.
Tony hated this time of year. Once the calendar turned over to December, the days taunted him. The closer the sixteenth got, the more he avoided the compound if he could help it. Barnes was there. Tony knew it wasn’t his fault. Tony knew he had no choice. But it didn’t take away the pain. It didn’t change the fact that it was at his hands that his parents died. He didn’t hate Barnes, but it was a struggle being around him sometimes. He wasn’t sure if it was the lingering feelings of anger, of hurt or if it was because he couldn’t stand to see the pain reflected back at him. Different pain, but pain nonetheless. Barnes carried the pain of every task he was forced to carry out, every life he was ordered to end. Tony carried the pain of losing his parents, of losing his mother.
They had a mission a week before the sixteenth. And fate would have it that they returned on the sixteenth. Both men were silent as the jet touched down. It was the third December since Bucky had joined the team. The first Tony had gone on an extended trip away. The second, Tony stayed in upstate, but avoided the team altogether. This year he had no choice but to see them. He was exhausted but knew sleep wouldn’t be found. Most of the day had been spent finishing the mission, traveling back to the compound, and debriefing. By the time the team was released, the sun had long since set. Tony made his way to a part of the compound people seldom went. He was surprised to find Barnes there, staring out a window at the landscape. He had a choice to make.
“It’s late Barnes,” Tony said as he entered the room. It was a small library. Bucky had a book on his lap, but it had long since been abandoned.
“It is,” Bucky said, as he stood. Tony put up a hand, signaling Bucky to stay. Bucky looked at him, confusion showing on his face.
“Stay. We should talk, we haven’t talked,” Tony said.
“Tony,” Bucky started to say.
“I’d say we’re overdue for a talk, wouldn’t you?” Tony asked, cutting him off. Bucky sat back down as Tony closed the distance to sit in the chair across from him.
“I think about them, you know. Them and everyone else I’ve ever killed,” Bucky said. Tony nodded.
“You know...what am I saying, Cap says it to you all the time. It wasn’t...it wasn’t your fault. It was you, but it wasn’t your mind. I was angry. I am angry. But it’s not at you, not anymore. It’s not at Cap for not telling me when he found out. I’m just...angry. Maybe at the world, at Hydra. I forgave you when I extended that invitation to you to live here. I want you to know that,” Tony said. Silence followed his words. Bucky sat contemplating what Tony had said.
“Sorry will never make up for what I did. Forgiveness...I’m not sure I deserve it,” Bucky said after several minutes.
“You do. You do, Barnes. At the end of the day, you were just another pawn for them,” Tony said.
It was past four in the morning when the men emerged from the library. December 16 was a day they both wanted to forget. But December 17...December 17 was a day to start over, start fresh, to move forward.