Soft Robotics ✧ Bucky Barnes

63. BALLISTIC

Bucky's POV

"Here, catch," Stark said from across the table. I didn't need the warning to know he was tossing another blueberry at me. I caught in my fist without looking up from the files in front of me.

"You know I meant in your mouth," he complained. "You never play along."

I dropped it into the growing pile on the chair next to me.

Sunlight was just starting to tilt into the windows of the conference room we'd set up in. We'd needed one with a table that had enough room to spread out all the materials—pictures, statements, entire files—from the neighbors around the house.

Stark and I had been in here all night, the others coming and going. We were the only two who didn't eventually go to bed. Even Steve and Natasha had left an hour ago, although they'd probably be back any minute now. They could both run on half an hour of sleep.

Stark may have been just as worried as me, but he was hopped up on espresso and an anxiety disorder, and it was making him unbearable.

"Heads up!" he called again. It wasn't a blueberry this time. A glass that had been next to the water pitcher. Immediately followed by the empty water pitcher itself. I caught them both in my right hand, one by one, quickly dropping them next to the blueberries, determined to not look up. If I looked up and saw his face, I was just going to start feeling more violent. (Was violence an emotion? I'd have to ask Dr. Raynor.)

"Aaand heads up!" It was a metal chair this time. I could hear it. He'd stood up and lifted it with two hands. I reached up and caught it by a leg before dropping it behind me, letting it crash onto the floor.

I finally gave in and glanced up at him.

"I was wondering when you'd use the vibranium one. I can't believe the chair didn't even work," he explained, sitting back down in his own chair, slumping down in it casually.

"I'm right handed. I'm only gonna use the left one if something's coming from that side," I said.

"That sounds a lot like an invitation for me to toss a chair from the other side of the room."

"The next thing you toss at me is getting thrown back. It's in your best interest to make sure it's at least coming from my right hand."

"You seem a little testy."

"Yeah, I am."

"Do you let Gracie look at the arm?"

"Yes."

"Poke around at it? She knows how it works?"

"Yes."

"I finally understand what she sees in you. Has she taken it apart?"

"No."

"Would you let her?"

"Yes. If she asked. But she wouldn't ask."

"You'd let her take it apart?"

"I'd trust her to put it back together." I thought about the way she'd wrapped her arms and legs around it just a couple nights ago. I could feel tears starting to form unexpectedly. The moisture felt nice in my eyes, since they had been dry and burning from lack of sleep.

"Can I take it apart?" Stark asked.

"No. I'll be right back," I told him, standing up.

"Where are you going?"

"Stepping outside. Calling my therapist."

"Aw, come on," he said. "I can't have pissed you off that bad."

The thought flashed through my mind of how good it would feel to knock Stark out. Wasn't I supposed to be labeling emotions? Okay, a flash of anger.

"I have a session today. If I miss it, they'll arrest me, and I'll have to lose time sorting that out. I'm going to call my therapist and ask her to cover for me."

When I was in the hallway outside, I called Dr. Raynor's personal cell phone number, so I wouldn't have to talk to a receptionist and wait for her to call me back. She probably wasn't even at work yet.

"James?" she answered, actually concerned. I'd never used this number before. "Is everything okay?"

"Um, no," I said. I wished I'd taken a second to make sure the tears were completely gone before calling. "I can't make the session today. And I'm probably not gonna be able to reschedule this week, either, unless something really good happens really soon."

"That's against your—tell me what's going on."

"Grace is...gone. I need to get her back."

"Gone?" she repeated.

"HYDRA."

"When did this happen? How long has she been gone?"

"Yesterday. I'm not calling to talk this out. I'm calling to ask you a favor."

I was right that Natasha and Steve would be back—they passed me and went into the conference room as I spoke.

"You want me to lie for you," she guessed. "You want me to lie and say we had a session this week."

"Count this call as a session. Not lying."

"If this call is a session, tell me how you're feeling."

"Scared and angry. I already figured it out myself. Thought about it and everything. Cover for me?"

She sighed. "Yes. I'll count it—but James!" she added quickly, knowing I was about to hang up.

"Yes?" I said shortly.

"You need to have a plan in place. If you don't find her—"

"Bad start, doc." I hung up.

If you don't find her—

If you don't find her—

If you don't find her—

I thought about her wrapped around my arm again, soft and gentle and there. The tears were back, and I didn't have time for them. I especially wasn't in the mood for Natasha to come out of the conference room right at the moment that I'd given into it, when I was sinking down onto a window ledge and letting myself cry just to get it over with.

She had the empty water pitcher in hand, and must've been intending to fill it, but she caught sight of me, turned on a heel, and retreated back into the conference room.

I put my elbows on my knees, resting my forehead against my palms while I calmed down. I heard the conference room door opening again a couple seconds after Natasha had closed it, and Steve's distinct footsteps approaching me.

"Move over," he said quietly.

"I'm fine," I said, raising my head. I'd stopped crying.

"Okay. Move over. I need someplace to cry. You gonna make me sit on the floor?"

I shot him a glare, but I made room for him to squeeze in next to me. He slung an arm around my shoulder, and we sat in silence for a minute.

"You should teach Grace how to dance sometime. Like you used to," he said finally. "She'd like it."

"I don't remember how," I said. My voice came out hoarse.

"Just try it. It'll come back."

A/N: umm HOW did this story just jump to #38 in Fanfiction today??? YALL!!! I never thought it would even rank there?? Thank you for the support💖💖

In my mind, Dr. Raynor was going to say "If you don't find her before next week," but I'll leave it up to y'all if you want to imagine her as just a terrible therapist or as the worst of all time