"This is adorable." Tony said, standing over me. "Gosh, I wish I had a camera." he shook his head, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.

Bucky hummed above me, pulling his hand out of my hair to rub his face as I noticed where I was. I must've leaned over in my sleep into Bucky's lap. The TV was off and the remote thrown to the other edge of the couch. "Blue?" he grunted, opening his eyes all the way. Steve stood at the entrance way to the common area, leaning against the arching frame.

"Right here." I sighed, pulling myself up into a sitting position.

"This really is just precious."

"C'mon, Tony, leave 'em alone." Steve rolled his eyes.

"I'm just saying, they have bedrooms, if they're going to get freaky, they don't have to do it in my living room." Tony shrugged as he walked past us into the kitchen. I pushed my hair out of my face and looked at Steve, who was studying me before I turned to Tony.

"Mr. Stark, we didn't-"

"Oh, I know." Tony poured himself some coffe. "I'm having breakfast catered, what do you want, Blue?"

What I thought would become the spotlight scandal of the day was brushed off in a matter of seconds. I still felt Steve's eyes on me, though. I understood why. Bucky was such a closed off person, the last seventy years of his life were a seperate eternity of pain and now he's been thrown into The Avengers Tower with his old best friend/enemy or 'mission' as Bucky had explained it earlier. When adding my presence was part of the equation, Steve probably expected much more resistance and confusion on Bucky's part. Bucky hadn't ven opened up fully to himself or Steve or any of the psychiatrists before me, why should I be any exception? Why was I special? I didn't have to be empathic to understand how he was feeling.

"I'm sorry, Bucky." I apologized, looking up at him. His blue eyes were calm, he was lucid and present and his touch was soft. He looked rested.

"Hello, Dorthy, Tin Man..." Tony whistled, pulling Bucky and I apart. "Breakfast?"

"Chocolate chip pancakes and eggs, thank you." I answered.

"And you? You want a heart?" Tony smirked.

"I don't think it's very healthy for Bucky to hear things like that, Mr. Stark. You're obstructing his self view."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks for that Dr. Phil. Sergeant Barnes, breakfast?"

"I'm fine." Bucky muttered and took off in a brisk walk down the hall. I debated whether I should take after him or not when Steve put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head.

"I think he needs a minute, Blue." he told me, looking down at me as I nodded. Steve's exterior was so large and muscular, traits that suggested he was cold and tough but he was so often sad. A man out of time. I saw him watch Bucky, becoming alert when someone go too close to him, like he was trying to protect both parties. He despised anyone else calling Bucky a monster but deep down, I think Steve became so hostile because he didn't want to think too much about it. He didn't want to be up at night analyzing the evidence that proved Bucky was too far gone.

I understood.

Bucky wasn't too far gone, though. No matter how much Tony and Steve and even Bucky himself wanted to believe that. There were two lives inside of Bucky's head, one where he was Sergeant James Buchanan where he lived freely with his best friend and another as The Winter Soldier, held in captivity and forced to kill. My job was to bring back Bucky.

"How is he?" Steve asked when we sat at the table with everyone else. The rest of the group were having their own conversations. Tony and Bruce were talking about one of my theories that Tony said was underdeveloped and circumstantial, followed by Bruce countering that was exactly what a theory was. Clint and Natasha were talking quietly so I didn't pry into it. Steve looked down at me, almost desperately.

"It's only been one day." I whispered. "Steve, this is going to take time. I know you love him and you want him to get better, that's what I want too. But it won't be an overnight thing. He may get worse before he gets better, he may go months on good or bad streaks. But I promise, we'll help him get better." my hand fell on top of his, barely covering his palm as he turned his hand over and closed his fingers around mine for a second before letting go.

"I know..." he sighed. "I'm sorry."

 "It's alright." I assured him before moving onto less sensitive subjects.