I Thought You Were Different: Part 3

Reality

News of the accident spread quickly, with news crews visiting the compound daily and trying to get access to anyone on the team just to have an update on your condition. Vision had taken it upon himself to greet each crew as they arrived, only to shut them down effectively and ask them to never return. It was a matter of family concern, he would explain, and not for public consumption or information to be used as entertainment or assumptive reports. Within a matter of only a few days, the visits diminished to nothing. Once he felt that his job was done there, he moved his focus to take a stand outside of the hospital, repeating the same message until no one was left to argue with him.

Sam fought an internal battle about going to see you, unsure if he would be able to do it and hold himself together; he had seen you injured before, so it wasn't necessarily that, it was because the outlook was so grim, and to be in the same room with Steve at your side would be too much to handle. If he was going to do this, he decided that he needed support with him; he needed someone who needed to return the favor to keep each other in check.

"You ready for this?" Sam asked Clint, sitting in his car inside of the compound's garage, the vehicle not even turned on yet. "Because I'm not ready, man. I don't know if I'll be able to get out of the car once we get there."

"You're going to get out of the car, Sam," Clint answered quietly. His hands were wringing together on his lap, the color blanching away under the pressure he was putting on them. His fingers had long since grown cold and he didn't care; he barely felt anything anywhere in his body, and his mind had been numb since he had heard the news. "You're going to get out of the car, come with me to her room, and we're going to say goodbye."

"What?" Sam snapped, looking at his friend in shock. "Hold on, Clint, you're not giving up, are you? Tell me that you haven't given up, because I sure as hell haven't. That girl has survived so many things that you know she's in there fighting her way through."

"Well you need to step up to the reality of this then. She's only alive so that we can all have a chance to see her. Steve's giving us as much time as he can."

"You know that Tony isn't going to let her go so easily," Sam continued, "he's been working nonstop on options to save her. Come on, Clint, you've gotta believe that there's a way. You've believed in (Y/N) even when she didn't believe in herself."

"Tony's just keeping busy, Sam," Clint deflected. "When he finally realizes that there's nothing left to do, we need to be ready. We all need to get our goodbyes done now, because he's going to need every last one of us when he cracks."

"Barton-"

"Just drive the damn car, Sam."

~~~

Bucky sat completely still, finding the one place that he could think of to get the solitude that he craved, the time alone that he relied on now to maintain his composure when all he could think of were murderous thoughts towards the two young men who had done this to you. It would be easy for him to go after them, to twist their bodies into knots of agony, holding them in his hands while they begged for mercy, only to not give it and enjoy that final twist of their necks that would give him much needed satisfaction.

But this was not the place for those kinds of thoughts; no, this was the place to find peace and understanding when he had none. He had no idea what to do once he was here, but he had heard that if he asked the right questions, the answers would be given. The small chapel in the hospital was very bare and dim, but it was the best he could find when he refused to leave the building that held you and his best friend at the worst time of your lives.