It’s almost never obvious what sets the episodes off: the squealing of tires on the street outside, the scent of a new cleaning product, the glint of light refracting off the windows of a neighbouring building. On a good day, the others can tell it’s happening when Bucky starts to get erratic - lashing out for no apparent reason, or just wandering off in the middle of a conversation. Those are the days when he’s riding the edge of it, neither completely present nor completely gone.
On a bad day, autopilot kicks in and the others don’t notice at all.
Natasha is the only one who reliably sees past it. It’s in his eyes, she says. She’s also the only person, to date, who is allowed to touch him when he’s that far gone. She’ll stroke his hair, knead his shoulders, squeeze his hand; after a while he’ll smile at her, shaky but sincere, and his eyes will look just that little bit less haunted.
Sam is not allowed to touch when Bucky checks out. He likes to sit with him out in the living room and talk - about the weather, about local politics, about what he’s making for dinner or how far he jogged today, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the rhythm of his voice and the grounding reality of his presence. When Bucky’s gaze starts to focus in on him again, Sam makes them both coffee - it never gets drunk, but he thinks the familiar scent might also be helpful.
Late one night, a storm breaks over Manhattan. It could be the thunder, or the pounding of the rain or the howling of the wind - it doesn’t make much difference, really. The first thing Natasha knows about it is a soft, metallic rap on her bedroom door.
And Bucky…Bucky doesn’t ask for help. Ever. But his face is chalk white, every corner etched deep with tension, and the request couldn’t be more blatant if he’d spoken it aloud.
The first Sam knows about it is the buzz of his phone in his pocket. “Come upstairs,” says Natasha’s voice at the end of the line, and it could mean anything - but then a loud peal of thunder sounds outside and Sam just knows. “My room.”
He takes a fresh pot of coffee up with him. Every little bit helps.
Chris Evans is photographed for Los Angeles Times on March 12, 2014 in Beverly Hills, California.
"Sebastian conveyed incredible menace just through movement for a good 60 minutes through the movie"-Captain America: The Winter Soldier Audio Commentary
Black Widow in Iron Man 2 (2010) and Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)
she plays it whenever she has a few minutes to spare; waiting on clint to get out of the shower,waiting for food in the oven, sitting for steve to sketch her. she obtains shockingly high scores in a very short amount of time, but also quickly reaches a plateau where she goes weeks before breaking her high score record.
she swears loudly, tossing her phone onto the couch and crossing her arms over chest.
"i hate this game," she says, to no one in particular.
"i know, ma’am," responds jarvis. "better luck next time."
“I JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHERE THE BATHROOM WAS”
remember who you are, petite. remember who loves you.