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Some days were harder than others. Waking up in a place that used to be occupied by those hero's who'd trained you for a life that you thought would yours.
No one else really understood it, the weight you felt you had to carry; The torch that was passed down to you from your predecessors. The rest of the group never brought it up, unknowingly letting it fester like an open wound. Because what could they do? Sometimes after a good mission Yelena would give you a brief sidelong hug, "You did good," she'd say, the affection in her tone small but there.
Today was different, you were quieter, mind elsewhere. The common area was lively, Alexei's voice loudly blabbering about his greatness to Bob who looked like he'd rather be elsewhere. Yelena shook her head while Ava and John looked uninterested.
Bucky wasn't paying attention to any of that though, his gaze was on you. The way your eyes weren't truly focused on anything, the expressionless face that spoke more than emotions could. He didn't spare a second thought before he got up, walking over to where you sat.
"Something on your mind?" Bucky asked, taking the empty seat to your right.
It took a moment for his presence to register. "Hm? Oh, no, nothing," the response was quick, like you hadn't even thought it over. Bucky just let out an airy chuckle, the kind that you could tell wasn't to make light of the situation. Instead it was an 'I get it'.
"You can say yes, even if you don't want to elaborate," Bucky was gentle with you, always was. You weren't sure if it was because you were young or because he knew you from your past life. The one spent in Avengers Compound, the one where you watched your entire team separate because of the Accords.
You let out a small sigh, giving him a brief look over. His face was tired, the same kind of tired you saw on old Steve's face after his lifetime with Peggy. He wasn't old like Steve was--at least not in the physical sense. "You look tired," you weakly mentioned, eyes dull.
He lightly chuckled, "You're changing the topic," his gaze flickering back over to the rest of the team.
"Hm, no I don't think so," your tone of light heartedness bringing out a subtle smirk from the usually stoic man. Bucky didn't push anymore, instead basking in the silence. After a minute or so a heavy breath could be heard from you, "I think I miss them," words quiet, and unprovoked.
He didn't need to ask who, but he knew that asking would help you finally open up, "The old team?" From him it sounded more like a statement rather than a question.
Your breath hitched at the mention of the old team, "Yea, them." You paused, head falling back against the soft couch cushions.
"It's ok to feel grief, even so long after," Bucky spoke calmly, his eyes trained on you.
You inhaled a sharp breath, no one ever took the time to sit down and talk to you about this topic, and like Hell you'd talk to a therapist about this. "Even when the world is depending on me?" You asked, glancing over at him.
Bucky gave you small nod, "Especially that," he said letting his metal arm rest against your forearm. "The world and it's people will continue to support you, but you have to support yourself first" his words catching you off guard.
In a way part of you wanted to refute, wanting to let yourself sink into the self pity that you'd found a sense of sick comfort in. Another part--one you thought you'd lost a long time ago told you to keep fighting.
"I hate how right you are," you said with a small chuckle, the first one you'd let out all day.
Bucky squeezed your arm a bit tighter, "I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, I went to therapy with Sam once."
"What!-" You semi yelled, making Bucky smile at your energy.
Bucky knew you'd get better, and if he noticed you drowning again then he'd make it his mission to keep you afloat.