[oom] I'm right here beside you

[from_the_outside]

 Sleep is a joke.

It's not just the intel that she stays up sifting through, blue light straining her eyes; it's not just the coffee she drinks, trying to keep her brain sharp and her thoughts on track. 

It's time.

Minutes that slip away, that she can't get back. Hours that tick ponderously past. She lies alone in her bed and can't close her eyes because if she does, if she sleeps, it's another night gone, another night closer to the day Bucky goes back under and –

So she stays up and works. 

It means that when she waits for him in the morning to come find her before they meet with T'Challa and the others, her skin is pale and translucent and she has that sick feeling of an all-nighter, fatigue poisons running rampant through her bloodstream – but she has a list of observations from her analysis, and two mugs of coffee kept warm on the credenza: one pale with milk and sugar, the other black and as strong as her little coffee maker could handle.

Comments

[from_the_outside]

She gives him another half-curve of a smile and stands to pick up the laptop and notes, then heads for the door and back in the direction of her room.

"At least we got somewhere," she says, after a moment. "Hopefully Okoye's operatives will find some evidence at the previous sites."

[nerves_of_ice]

He follows her down the hallway, staying to her left as they walk. "It's progress," he agrees.

"We'll have more tomorrow, then again in a few days."

And then a couple of days after that he'll go back on ice, unless something changes. No need to worry about that now, though.

[from_the_outside]

"Right."

Tomorrow. Five days. Two weeks.

And in the middle of all that, he goes under. By the time he wakes back up, with any luck, it'll be over. Best case scenario.

(She tries not to think of how often the best case actually comes to pass.)

Back at her door, she lets them both in and puts the laptop and notes down before heading back to the little coffee maker. "We should let Steve know if Fury's getting involved," she says, watching her hands measure out the coffee. "Especially if he's going to wind out finding out about you."

Or confirming his intel. Either way.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Let Natasha manage that," he says, quietly, watching her. "Since she's the one who gave him your details to begin with."

[from_the_outside]

Who he is. To us. To me.

She grabs the pitcher and heads to the bathroom to fill it with water, glancing at him over her shoulder as she goes. "Did you tell him you're going back under?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He goes very still, all the way down to the bone.

"No." Silence hangs in the air between them for a moment. "We were talking about other things."

[from_the_outside]

She disappears into the bathroom without comment and runs the tap into the pitcher, steadfastly not looking at herself in the mirror as she does. That prickly feeling hasn't gone away; if anything, it's getting worse.

But he's not the one to take it out on. She glances at him as she comes back into the main room, before she pours the water into the coffee maker, sets the mug he'd used earlier underneath the percolator, and hits the button. "Next time you talk to him, then?" she asks.

It'll be soon. Steve will want to check in with them on this operation regardless.

[nerves_of_ice]

"We'll see," he says, a little cautiously. He's watching her more warily than before. "He knows what Shuri was planning. We talked about it before I went under the first time."

A beat of silence.

"Why?"

[from_the_outside]

She shrugs, shakes her head. "I just think he'd want to know. Be here when you come back out of it."

Which Bucky knows, of course. There's not a snowflake's chance in hell that Steve Rogers would miss this.

Turning around to lean back against the credenza as the coffee percolates, she folds her arms and gives him a faint quirk of a smile. "What've you got planned for the rest of the day?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He regards her steadily.

"Sharon."

[from_the_outside]

Her mouth presses and her arms tighten, just slightly, across her body as she meets that level gaze of his, but the coffee maker gurgles and beeps and she lifts her eyebrows as if to say saved by the bell and turns to take the mug, setting her own back under the percolator and hitting the button again. "What?"

She takes the few steps necessary to pass him the mug. "It's not a hard question. I'm going to guess...something with the goats. Or clearing more brush."

[nerves_of_ice]

He sets the mug aside on the nearest stable surface and reaches to put his fingers under her chin, tipping her face up as he meets her eyes.

Bucky doesn't say anything else, but waits, patiently.

[from_the_outside]

The thing is, she can't hold his gaze for long, because when she meets those steady, smoke-blue eyes of his, that thing starts clawing at her stomach and whispering in her ear again, saying there's no time, saying you can't let them get to him, not again, and she has to look away, down and to the side.

"Yeah," she admits. It's more of a sigh than a word. "I know. I'm trying too hard, huh?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"A little," he agrees, letting go of her chin. "Tell me what's wrong."

[from_the_outside]

She doesn't say where should I start? and feels like she deserves a goddamn medal for self-restraint. Instead, she wets her lip and looks away like she might find a handy answer written on the wall before meeting his eyes again. "I don't know."

It's the truth. The thing that's sinking desperate claws into the inside of her ribs isn't just everything from yesterday and the prospect of even more trouble down the line. She shakes her head. "That call from Fury rattled me more than it should have."

The ghost of a smile touches her lips and eyes. "Maybe I've just gotten past the point of being able to deal with him without a good night's sleep."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Maybe," he allows. "Although I figure he's pretty hard to deal with on a good day."

He smiles a little, very wryly.

"Would it help if I promise not to shoot him again?"

[from_the_outside]

"It couldn't hurt," she says, just as wry, and turns away as the coffeemaker gurgles and beeps once more. She busies herself for a moment doctoring the coffee, then leans against the credenza once more, mug cradled in her hands, to take a sip.

[nerves_of_ice]

He takes up his own coffee and has a few swallows, considering her.

"Should we talk about what we're going to tell him tomorrow?"

[from_the_outside]

"Probably."

She pushes herself off the credenza to go back to her seat at the little table, lightly brushing her hand across the small of his back as she moves past him. "Do you mean what we'll tell him about you? Or what kind of favor I might be offering in return?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"To be honest, I'm more concerned about that second part," he says.

[from_the_outside]

"And I'm more worried about the first."

That's no surprise, but she relents with a soft sigh. "I know. You got pretty tense listening to that part. But how many things could it be?"

She puts her mug down to fold her arms on the table top as she watches him. "If you needed Agent 13 for a favor, what would you have in mind?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He focuses on her question first. "Espionage. Subterfuge. You're wasted on bodyguard work but you're good at assuming an identity. Probably not sabotage. Or assassination." He eyes her a little carefully. "Which might not be his style anyway."

He lets that hang in the air for a moment, then adds,

"So you probably don't need to worry too much about him knowing about me." He knows perfectly well that it's dark, cynical humor at best, but he has to try.

[from_the_outside]

There's that wry press of her mouth that's not quite a smile again. "Probably not for that, anyway," she agrees.

As for the rest... "My guess is he's working an op that's eventually going to require going somewhere he can't. Like you said: I'm good with identities. He sent me undercover plenty of times in the old days, it would make sense if that's what he wants me for again. Old school spy stuff was never Hill's strong suit."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Just because that's what he wants doesn't mean that's what he gets," Bucky tells her.

[from_the_outside]

"You're right," she says, simply. "But he's pretty good at getting what he wants. Especially when he knows which buttons to push."

And he does.

He might even know about this one, or guess it. If he knows Bucky's here. If he stops to think about why Sharon is. She might know if he manipulates her, but that doesn't mean it won't work.