[oom] all those times we looked up at the sky

[from_the_outside]

Karli's on the move; she'll strike soon. Bucky and Sam have been in long, tense conversations with each other and with Torres, and she herself has been keeping an obsessive eye on the tracker blip that is Batroc.

It's a lot. The air in the apartment is tense. But she still has to laugh at the sight that greets her when she walks into the living room: Bucky crouched down, his phone out as he takes a photo of Alpine, who is lounging in lazy grandeur, soaking up a puddle of sunshine.

"That'll be a good one," she approves. "Baby, I've been wondering – what happened to your nice camera? You didn't leave it in Wakanda, did you?"

Comments

[from_the_outside]

"Not 'no,'" she murmurs. "But I couldn't call."

She'd been so angry, so hurt; felt so betrayed and alone. She'd lost herself in Madripoor, and then, when everyone else was saved, still no one came for her. Not even him. "We already talked about it," she says, weary. "We don't need to do it again."

[nerves_of_ice]

He runs one hand over her hair and down her back, then does it again, in long, slow, soothing strokes.

"Okay," he says, softly.

[from_the_outside]

The guilt and self-loathing is crushing and familiar. She should have called. She should never have believed he could abandon her. She should have known Fury was up to something. Should have, could have. Six months, gone. Like the five years beforehand. Six months they could have had together. Six months they should have had. When he didn't need to be alone, and neither did she.

She shakes her head again and exhales a long, slow breath, trying to relax under the gentle strokes of his hand.

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky presses a kiss to her hair and keeps stroking her back.

"You're here now," he says, softly. "You're home."

[from_the_outside]

"You came back for me," she murmurs, and curls her free fingers gently into his shirt. A reminder, one she shouldn't have needed. "I'm never leaving you ever again."

[nerves_of_ice]

He kisses her hair again and holds her a little closer.

"I couldn't leave you there. Not once I knew."

[from_the_outside]

"Stubborn man."

She flattens her fingers against his back, feeling him breath, feeling his warmth and solidity. "I'm glad you kept the necklace. Even though it must have hurt."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It was the last thing I had of you," he says, softly. "The last thing that had touched your skin, before -- before what I thought had happened. T'Challa handed it to me, and I felt the weight of it in my fingers, and remembered..."

He stops there, shaking his head, as words fail him.

[from_the_outside]

She lifts her head from his shoulder so she can look up into his face. "You have me back," she says, softly.

And remembered. She remembers how he'd looked, when he took the soft, fabric-wrapped packet from his pocket and offered it to her. The hope in his eyes. The way he stubbornly pressed forward to tell her what he wanted.

"I'm here. With you. I'm not going anywhere."

[nerves_of_ice]

This time when he leans down to kiss her it's slow and sweet and lingering. He tips his forehead against hers once the kiss breaks, and just breathes for a few seconds.

"Anyway, that's why I kept it. With the camera."

[from_the_outside]

She nods, her forehead against his, and lifts her empty hand to stroke over his hair – his hair that's so short now. She's almost stopped expecting it to be long, but hasn't quite managed it yet.

"I'm glad," she murmurs. "I'm glad you had it." One thing of hers. The last thing of hers. Tucked away even where the blankets and glass art hand't been. "And I'll be glad to have it back. I hated taking it off."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods as well. "You almost never did," he murmurs.

It's part of why he'd believed she was dead, in the end. He'd held the broken and burned pieces in his hands and known she was gone, with only these few fragile scraps remaining.

[from_the_outside]

"I won't again."

She strokes her hand over his hair again, as soothing as she can make it. "We'll get it fixed and I won't take it off. I shouldn't have that day."

Maybe if she hadn't, he wouldn't have believed Fury. And then he would have come to see for himself. Maybe he would have found her.

[nerves_of_ice]

“Hey,” he says, softly, as he pulls back to look at her.

“Don’t blame yourself. You hear me?”

[from_the_outside]

"Hard not to."

So much grief and misery. Maybe it could have been avoided. Maybe there was one small decision, somewhere along the line, that would have changed their fates, that she didn't make. "If he hadn't given it to you as proof..."

She trails off and shakes her head. "I guess it's not worth thinking about. It happened. I can't change it by wishing."

[nerves_of_ice]

He reaches up to brush her hair back from her face, tucking a lock of it behind her ear, letting himself marvel at the fact that he can again, that she’s here, that she’s safe.

“Thinking about it can drive you crazy. Trust me, I know.”

[from_the_outside]

She tips her head into his touch, gentle.

"I don't want to lose any more time with you," she murmurs. "I want everything we ever talked about having one day when we got back here."

[nerves_of_ice]

"All of it," he murmurs. "Every dream we had, we'll make real."

He starts to lead her the few steps to the bed to sit down, spots the camera discarded there, and gives it a truly rueful look before he turns back to her.

"So you figured out why I hid it from myself, I guess?"

[from_the_outside]

Sharon makes a soft sound. "I don't think my necklace is all of it."

She turns away long enough to find a tissue and deposit the necklace carefully into it, then sets the soft, thin paper onto one of the bedside tables before she turns back to him and reaches to take his hand. "Was it?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"No," he admits, barely audible, letting her take hold of his hand without resistance. His glance slides to the camera and away from it again.

[from_the_outside]

It's her turn to coax him to come sit down on the mattress, keeping his hand in hers as she sits next to him.

"Should I put it away again?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's not the camera," he clarifies, after a moment. "It's what's on it."

[from_the_outside]

She shakes her head, not quite understanding. "You didn't want to see your old photos?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"I..." His voice trails off there for several long seconds before he swallows, hard, and looks up at her.

"I hadn't offloaded all of them from Steve's last visit yet. The one just before you left."

[from_the_outside]

Her lips form a soft 'o' of understanding, and she slips her other hand over his, cradling his hand between both of hers as she remembers: laughing, cold beers, silly innocent games, hours with the three of them chatting together. And Bucky taking photos, smiling and happy.

Then he lost her. And in the months before Thanos snapped his fingers, he put the camera away and didn't download the photos. And then he was back, and Steve was gone. And Nat. And her, still. But all those moments were still frozen inside the camera, as fresh as if they'd just happened.