jumpthegun | IC Inbox (v1.0)

[John counts to three, and then he counts to ten, and then he stops clenching his jaw because it hurts. He'd thought he'd gotten through to Amber, that they'd been making some sort of headway.]

Thank you for letting me know, Bucky. I'll take care of it. You might want to hold onto that for now, along with any other narcotics you find.

[Because he trusts Bucky with those more than Sherlock at this point.]

How are you doing?

[And where are they at? John doesn't ask that, but there's more than a touch of trepidation still about whether or not Bucky is furious at him. The man is good at masking his emotions, much better than John is. The fact that he's contacted John about this is encouraging, though.]

Alfie and I came to an understanding. Thanks for helping me hold my ground with him. I never did tell you. Thanks.

[He doesn't bother telling John that he already took the morphine with the intent of holding onto it, he just pockets the pills again. He's ready to hang up, reason for calling dealt with, when John just keeps going.

He tamps down any of the fear, anger, and distress that threaten to bubble up inside him. Why doesn't anyone understand that when he says he doesn't want to talk about it, that doesn't mean ask again in a short while? There are some things better left unsaid. So he doesn't say them, he moves right along.]

You held your own ground, don't need to thank me for that.

[An understanding doesn't sound quite like a full make up of friendship, but it's probably the best that can be hoped for.]

You still injured?

[So that's a 'poorly' on the how are you doing front. John might have expected it, and he sighs to himself. Maybe Natasha will be able to get through to him. John doesn't want to push it.]

You helped remind me why I should.

[And as Bucky's avoiding talking about feelings, John's going to avoid talking about injuries.]

[Excuse you, that's not how this works. He frowns at the tablet at his end, ignoring the twisting feeling those words cause in his gut. Maybe John won't push, but Bucky will.]

You still injured?

I'm fine.

Don't lie to me.

I'm about as fine as I can be under the circumstances.

[There, Bucky. That's not a lie.]

I'll heal. It's fine.

[How can one man be so aggravating and so injured all the time?]

Did I break anything?

[He'll at least take the rightful blame for hurting John. Again.]

[He wasn't injured all the time, thank you.]

No. Pierce did more than you, and I sprained my wrist, myself. I've got a brace for that, at least.

He'll be coming after you now that he knows for sure that you know, and now that he knows we're friends.

[And they are, even if he's so angry that John was stupid enough to confirm how deep their friendship went in front of that man. Angry for other reasons, selfish reasons. It's why he can't talk about it, he knows on some level that it's not really John's fault.]

He can try. Reckon I can take him.

[Maybe... maybe in a few days. He needs a little time to rest here.]

[It's a good job this is over text, because Bucky is getting really wound up now.]

Don't be an idiot.

According to a lot of people, that's physically impossible for me. Look, Buck, I don't have a lot of options here. He knows, he's gonna do what he's gonna do, regardless of whether or not I do anything. I'm not afraid of him, and maybe I should be, but I think between me, you, and Natasha, we can handle whatever he throws at us.

He knows because you goddamn told him.

[Oops, stupid voice to text really means he needs to be careful what comes out of his mouth. There's a brief pause, he didn't mean to let that fly.]

Forget it.

[Something to change the subject?]

Clint knows too.

[So there it is. John winces.]

I didn't mean to tell him, Bucky. I'm sorry. It just sort of came out.

[In the heat of the moment, he hadn't been thinking about the tactics of the situation and whether or not he should pretend Bucky's no one to him.]

I know this is my fault, so I'll deal with the consequences. What's the worst he can do? Try to tell everyone I'm mental? I think they've had enough time around me to figure that out for themselves, one way or the other. And it's not like I'm not used to people calling me a liar and an idiot.

[He just doesn't get it. That's so far from the worst thing that Alexander Pierce can do, and it's terrifying. He can see flashes of memory, of pain, and his hands start shaking. Bucky's chest feels tight, like someone has a strap wrapped around him and is slowly closing it off bit by bit.]

I said forget it.

[He doesn't want Bucky to just hang up.]

What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help make you feel better about this. I'm sorry, Bucky. I don't know what to do to help you other than tell you I'm here for you.

[He just won't stop, will he? He's like Steve, doggedly pursuing, being a good person. Here to help, and all Bucky wants to do is shout at him for telling Pierce, for revealing their friendship. He knows if the Soldier is triggered, he knows... knows that Pierce will send him after John now. And even if the Soldier isn't triggered, Pierce will probably hunt him down and torture him to get at Bucky.

It'll all come down to blood in the end, John's blood on Bucky's hands. Just like all the other people's blood that's on his hands. He can see Steve's battered face in his mind's eyes, hear the whirr of the helicarrier.]

Stop it, shut up.

All right. Calm down, Bucky. Let's talk about something else. I'm meeting up with Sherlock in a couple of days. We'll be safer together. You won't have to worry.

[He won't have to worry, as if it's that easy. John really doesn't get it.]

I can't have your blood on my hands.

[And he's done with this conversation, just hanging up abruptly.]

[John frowns and calls back.]

Please eat and sleep properly. You ran yourself ragged in those corridors. I'll talk to Natasha about what to do. Goodbye, Bucky.

[And then John hangs up. Politely.]

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