Bucky leaned his head against the wall.  He was nearly numb.  One friend gone.  Another friend in critical condition.

And being lied to by someone he had just learned to trust.

With a sharp exhale, he lurched to his feet and walked over to the closet.

He unwound the fraying tape from his flesh knuckles and checked on his metal arm before pulling out two more punching bags.

He lined up a dozen and started punching.

They were gone in less than a half hour and he retrieved more.

Tony opened the door and stood in the opening.

Bucky ignored his presence and punched a bag open with his real arm.

"How many have you broken?" the billionaire asked incredulously.

He just hung up another bag and squared up.

Tony started counting the bags, pointing to each one in turn.

"Eighteen.  Eighteen, Metal Man!  That's a lot of money."

He just grunted and broke the next bag.

"Nineteen."  Tony sighed.  "That comes out to...what?...fifteen hundred?"

"What do you care?" Bucky asked, unclipping the broken bag.  "You've got billions."

"You're paying for all of those."

He turned, playing with the tape on his right hand.  "You know that I haven't got a cent to call my own.  All of my money in the bank was given away when I went missing."

"That is quite the dilemma," Tony commented.

Bucky scowled and pretended the punching bag wore the Iron Man's face.  It broke twice as fast and he hung up the next one.

"Twenty."  Tony leaned against the wall.

Bucky hung up twenty-one and went to get more tape.  He noticed the man watching.  "Is there something you came here to do?  Or did you just want to harass me?" he asked gruffly, pushing sweat from his forehead.

"Actually, I came to tell you how Clint is doing."

"Then tell me," he grunted, punching the bag.

"He's stable."

"See, it's that easy."

Bucky broke the next bag and started on the twenty-second.  He battered it rapidly with his right hand.  That one fell.

He hung up twenty-three.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Tony asked.

He didn't answer.  Instead, he swung with his right arm and connected solidly with the bag.

"You hate me, that's obvious, but why?"

He stopped, steadying the bag with his left arm.  "Isn't that obvious?"

"Enlighten me."  Tony leaned back agonist the wall, crossing his arms.

Bucky scowled and took a step forward.  "You lied to all of us, about something very important and relevant."

"It was to protect you all."

"And you justify everything you do with selfishness disguised as caring!" Bucky whirled around and broke the punching bag.  He yelled out as the sand poured onto the floor, then put his hands on his knees to catch his breath back.

Tony raised an eyebrow.

Bucky punched down two more punching bags before he was finished.   He lugged all twenty-five to a chute, which took them to the huge dumpster.  Then he unwrapped the tape and dropped that down too.

The billionaire was still leaning against the wall when he approached him.   "Are you sure he's stable?"

"Positive.  He's napping."

Bucky sighed, rubbing his right knuckles.   "Can I see him?"

Tony nodded.

Ten minutes later, the former Winter Soldier had been sterilized and ready to enter the room.

The man was still asleep, so Bucky sat next to him to wait.

He zoned out, looking out of the small window.

The man before him stirred.  He didn't notice.

Then he spoke, his voice raspy from disuse.  "You need a shave."