Archive of Our Own ^beta

The room was too quiet for a place full of killers.

They had all scattered to different corners of the common room the second they had gotten back, silent and tense. Yelena was cleaning her knives and guns at the table with a glass of vodka next to her. The soft clicks and slide of metal on metal were the only real sounds in the room besides the occasional whoosh of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. Ava sat silent near the door in a textbook perfect picture of calm stillness, eyes tracking every motion but otherwise not moving a single muscle. Walker was leaning against the far wall and rolling his shoulder with the restless energy he always carried around with him. And Bucky – Bob’s eyes darted around until he found the soldier – he hadn’t said a word since they got back. He was seated far away from the rest of the group, in the shadowed corner by a window with his elbows braced on his knees and his eyes distant in a way that meant he wasn’t seeing what was actually happening in front of him anymore. 

Bob watched Bucky’s hands closely. The left one flexed and twitched almost unconsciously – the metal plates caught the light from the lamp above and sent a dull reflection in every direction – but the right hand was still, gripping the arm of the chair as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. Bob hesitated at the doorway. He wasn’t always good at reading people, at reading silences, at figuring out tone, but even he could tell the energy in the room was dangerous. After a few minutes of too-tense silence, he decided to throw caution to the wind and try anyway, “Hey, uh…is everyone good? That was…messy.”

“We are fine,” Yelena said shortly, not even looking up as she reassembled her gun in smoother motions than Bob could tie his shoes. “Walker was just dramatic.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

Bob sighed slightly as the two descended into the usual bickering, fading away into background noise that wasn’t necessarily comforting but was at least familiar. Ava blinked when he tilted his head at her before shrugging. He figured that was the best answer he was going to get from her and sighed again before taking a few tentative steps toward Bucky. He hadn’t moved or even blinked. The air around him felt charged, the hair on Bob’s arms standing up the closer he got, like the moments before lightning hit the ground.

“You okay, man?” Bob asked softly in an attempt to avoid being overheard, which was easy enough as Walker snapped at Yelena. “You kinda zoned out a bit on the ride back.”

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly on a small sound that Bob almost couldn’t hear despite being only a few feet away. He frowned and stepped closer.

“Bucky?”

He shouldn’t have reached out – he’d forget that part later, that he had touched Bucky first with a light hand on his shoulder that was meant to reassure him. The sound that came out of Bucky was barely human. A guttural snarl, low and sharp, like a cornered animal trying to get away from a predator, not that Bob would have ever considered himself a predator. His entire body snapped into motion faster than Bob’s eyes could even process that anything had moved at all, his metal arm flashing silver in the light. The strike caught Bob square in the chest with a force that he thought might be equivalent to a freight train. There was no time for him to brace himself or even breathe. The air was punched out of his lungs as he slammed into the wall across the room before hitting the ground hard enough to rattle the floor.

Pain exploded in his chest. The world blurred.

His lungs refused to work; air would scrape uselessly through his throat before it rushed out in a strangled half-gasp, half-moan.

Yelena was on her feet in an instant, knives clattering against the table.

“What the hell–”

Bob’s weak, choked-off attempt at a breath cut Walker off. He rolled slowly to the side with a ragged choking noise, one hand clutching his ribs as white hot pain flared up with every breath. He could feel something sharp digging under his skin, something very out of place. His vision flickered at the edges, fading out of focus before he blinked and quickly cleared it. Bucky was frozen with his arm still outstretched, fingers curled and eyes wide with shock like he was watching the scene in front of him through someone else’s body. Bob felt something shift under his fingers and, for a heartbeat, he wasn’t there at all, wasn’t in the room, wasn’t in the year, wasn’t surrounded by friends. He was somewhere else, what felt like a lifetime away, spitting blood into snow as his name was shouted in a taunt by young voices.

“Bucky!” Yelena snapped and Bob watched Bucky’s eyes shoot toward her. “What the hell?”

Bucky blinked and his breath caught as he looked back at Bob. “Bob–

Bob coughed and the sound morphed into a pained whine before he choked it off, “‘s okay.”

Walker was already next to him; his arm slid behind Bob’s back and helped guide him to sit upright and brace his back against the wall. He ran his hands down Bob’s sides and Bob hissed when his fingers hit the spot that felt like something was out of place. “He’s hurt. At least three ribs broken, minimum.”

“No shit,” Yelena hissed as she dropped to kneel on the other side. “You–don’t move. Just breathe.”

“Work–working on it,” Bob wheezed. He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “Guess–guess I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have snuck up—”

“Stop talking,” Walker ordered and Bob huffed out a groan but nodded. His head tipped back against the wall and he closed his eyes.

“I didn’t–” Bucky’s voice broke and he sounded entirely, completely human for the first time that Bob had ever known him. “I didn’t mean to. He–I thought–”

“Hey,” Ava said softly as she stood up from her spot by the door and crossed over to Bucky in a few steps. “He’s alive. Alright? You didn’t do anything that we can’t fix.”

Bob opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side to look at Bucky, offering him a half-smile, “You look worse than I feel.”

“Don’t joke,” Bucky muttered; he ran a hand over the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers. His other arm – metal and still shining – hung heavy and motionless at his side. He exhaled sharply as he stood up. Bob tried to keep his smile steady, though it faltered when the pain spiked again.

“Can’t help it,” Bob replied before hissing as Walker’s hand touched a tender spot and the man murmured an apology. “Makes it hurt less.”

Walker glanced over and his jaw tightened when he saw how close Bucky was, “Barnes, you’re gonna need to back up before—”

“I’m not leaving an injured teammate.”

“–you make it worse.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with a threat. Bob could tell it wasn’t conscious, it was instinct that was sharp and cold and seemed to hurt him as much as it could hurt any of them if he didn’t have it under control. It vanished as soon as it appeared, replaced by a familiar exhaustion that Bob knew all too well. Ava stepped closer again and rested her hand cautiously on Bucky’s shoulder, “He’s right. You’re shaking.”

“I can help,” Bucky insisted. “I have training–”

“Not while your head is still in a warzone,” Walker cut him off shortly. “Yelena and I both have medical training. We have it handled.”

Bob tried to focus on breathing – slow, uneven, shallow, and painful breaths shifted his ribs. He could feel everything in vivid detail, each beat of his heart felt like it was pulsing through the bone and marrow of his ribcage. He tried to keep his eyes open, but the edges of the room kept blurring. Yelena’s hands were steady and gently, pressing an icepack – he had no idea where it had come from – against the worst of it. She was muttering in Russian under her breath. From what Bob knew of her, it probably wasn’t a prayer, although it did sound like one.

“It’s okay,” Bob rasped after a long moment of silence, forcing his eyes open so he could meet Bucky’s concerned gaze. Bucky didn’t look at him, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptively. “I mean it…wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky’s shoulders were rigid. His reflection in the window looked ghostly, but he refused to look at Bob. Yelena was the one who broke the silence next, “He’s going to need to go to the hospital. Walker, get another icepack.”

“Yes, mom,” Walker muttered sarcastically, although he did stand and headed to the hallway where one of Bob’s many first aid kits was stashed.

Bob shifted slightly before wincing. Yelena steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, “Do not move, I said.”

“Oh, I was hoping to go for a jog,” Bob mumbled and Yelena rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched into something that was almost a smile. Before she could say anything, Walker returned with the icepack and some compression wraps.

“This is gonna hurt, Bob,” he warned as he knelt down again.

“Good…w-wouldn’t want it—it to be easy,” Bob wheezed.

Walker huffed a short laugh and shook his head, “You’re an idiot.”

“Your favorite one,” Bob shot back before breaking it off with a cry as Walker wrapped the bandages tightly around both icepacks to hold them in place. “Fuck.”

“Alright,” Walker muttered after a minute, “that’s about as good as we can get it. Up and at ‘em, Bob. Let’s get you where they can give you the good stuff.”

Bob groaned as Walker and Yelena helped him to his feet, stumbling a few steps before he found his footing again. He stumbled toward the elevator before frowning and looking back. Bucky and Ava both hadn’t taken a single step with the other three. Bob studied Bucky, and the soldier finally looked back at him. He saw a familiar guilt in his expression and sent him a sad smile, but didn’t say a word as the elevator arrived. Bob let Walker usher him into the small box and kept eye contact with Bucky, inclining his chin as the doors slid shut. He couldn’t read people well, but he knew what blame looked like regardless. Bob closed his eyes as the elevator smoothly started to descend. There would always be tomorrow.