I Thought You Were Different: Part 4

Absent

"Do you know where Steve Rogers is?"

"No, we haven't heard from Steve in the past eight weeks," Nick answered as calmly as possible in front of the sea of faces eagerly looking to him for explanations that he didn't want to give. "As you know, because you're all a bunch of nosy bastards, his family has been through a recent personal tragedy, and I'm not exactly inclined to push the guy into getting back to work until he's ready, and I don't care how long that takes him."

"Okay, then what about the Avengers?" a different reporter stepped forward to ask. "We haven't heard a single word about any missions since he went off the grid."

"I've put the Avengers on an indefinite stay of duty until I feel damn good and ready to let them get back in. I told you, this is a family tragedy."

"We've heard that Tony Stark has gone recluse and that you're hiding him away in the compound for his own safety. Some have said that he's finally lost his mind. Do you have any comment on that?"

"No."

"So you are hiding him then?"

"Does anyone have any questions that I might actually answer, or are you all out here fishing for gossip?" Nick huffed with a thick groan, looking out over the group of eager eyes and cellphones held out to record his every word. "Yeah, I didn't think that you did. Tell you what, you all think that the Avengers belong to you, like they owe the world something and that you can just keep on taking without giving them something in return. Hey, you," he stopped and pointed into the crowd, "no, you put that phone back up and listen to me."

One of the now terrified reporters slowly raised his hand back up, smiling in embarrassment as his peers chided him under their breath.

"The Avengers are people, just like you all, with lives of their own, and feelings that they have every right to keep to themselves. You've never seen the looks on their faces when they come home from a bad mission, have you? Hmm? They take each loss to heart, and they take on blame that isn't even theirs, all because they think that they failed you. If even one life is lost under their guard, they never fully recover. So I want you to go back to your pitiful desks at your boring ass jobs and think long and hard about what you write today. You imagine the world without this group, and the horrors that they've stopped from touching your tiny little lives while risking their own, and then tell me that they don't deserve every fucking ounce of your respect in the words that you choose."

~~~

Bucky stood silent along the long glass wall next to the kitchen that looked out over the front lawn of the compound, watching with great satisfaction as the reporters that Fury was fielding walked back to their cars with a little less confidence in their steps. A small group of them had broken away and were standing together not far from the building when Nick came into view, pointing angrily and waving them away with what Bucky could only imagine were very colorful expletives chosen with a great deal of care.

"He's really a badass son of a bitch when he wants to be, isn't he?"

"Hey, language," you whispered as you passed by him on the way to lunch with your kids. "Just because Steve isn't here to keep the manners up in this place, it doesn't mean that I won't step up."

"Sorry, doll. I'm just really glad that he's on our side."

"Believe me, we all are," you smiled readily, continuing on your way to get the meal ready. With Steve gone for so long, Bucky had taken it upon himself to step into much of the role that was left behind, sharing in responsibilities with the trio, somehow always being there when you needed a minute to break down, and even going so far as to spend hours following Tony around just to be sure that he was staying safe from his own demons; it was something that Bucky knew of all too well and could easily relate to. "Hey, do you want me to fix up something for you?"