[ WWII AU ] a ghost story

[from_the_outside]

It's been almost two years since she's been home, and little by little, the grief has gotten easier to live with.

It hasn't gone away. But she's able to focus on her job, watch movies, chat with friends, sleep most nights. She still dreams about him, but the dreams are tinged with wistful longing and only sometimes does she wake up with tears on her cheeks. She can't have his picture out in this apartment, Kate's apartment, but it's safe in the mountain house, along with his last letter to her, and she has a scan on her phone to look at when the long day is over and she's in bed, the stars from the lamp he'd given her filling her dark room.

Steve has helped, more than she could ever explain, and she hopes she's helped him in return. Aside from a few deeply classified missions here and there, they haven't worked together all that much, but she still sees him almost every day. In the halls, she's undercover as his mild-mannered neighbor, Kate, but in her secure apartment they can talk over anything, everything.

And it works. Every day is a little easier. They lean on each other when they need to, and they spend hours remembering and reminiscing about Bucky, talking shop, chatting about how Steve's fitting into the future. It's nice. She still misses Bucky, an ache that never really goes away, but they can both breathe through it, work through it, live through it.

She's on her way up from the basement laundry machines when she hears a familiar step in the hall, and has to smile to herself – first her own, then Kate's sweeter, more open one. "Hey, neighbor."

Comments

[from_the_outside]

"Sure," Steve says, as Sharon heads off to some other part of the house. It could be almost anywhere — this place is still alarmingly large to him, even after seeing the way Tony lives.

Tony. How's he gonna tell him? How on earth is he going to find a way to make any of this okay? It had been bad enough, waking up and finding Howard was gone, too, but this...

He huffs out a breath without realizing it, then gets up and goes to the cupboard to take out some boxes of cold cereal. "You guys eat anything yet?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He pours Steve’s mug full and claims the one Sharon had left behind to fill it as well before topping off his own. Bucky considers her mug, searches out sugar and cinnamon and milk from where he’d watched her get them earlier, and sets them out for her when she gets back.

As he starts making a fresh pot, he says, “Not yet.” After a second and a glance at Steve’s collection of cereal, he adds, hesitantly, “There are eggs.”

[from_the_outside]

Steve chuckles at that, shaking one of the boxes of cereal.

"This not up to your standards?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“It’s fine,” he hastens to assure. “I just thought if you wanted something…more.”

Given his standards run to functional high-protein rations to maintain optimal operational levels, cereal’s not ideal, but he doesn’t think Steve wants to hear that.

[from_the_outside]

Steve glances at the cereal box, then shrugs and sets it down, searching around for a pan. "May as well. Sharon never eats enough for breakfast, anyway."

[nerves_of_ice]

Did he know that? He’s not sure. It sounds right, but not as though it’s a recollection. Bucky dwells on that for a few moments, trying to figure it out, while he gets out the eggs and sets them beside the stove.

“You two eat breakfast together a lot?” he asks, trying to put the pieces together.

[from_the_outside]

Steve looks up at him, then flushes, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Not like that," he hastens to say. "She stayed with me for a little while right after... right after she got back. And I've been here with her a couple of times. I..."

He trails off, then sighs, turns to face Bucky more fully, his blue eyes grave and sincere. "When she came back, I promised myself I'd watch out for her, take care of her, for you."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's good. That you have each other," Bucky tells him, with absolute sincerity. "I wanted that for you, if it went wrong."

Turns out he's able to talk about past wants, past needs, without triggering the programming by trying to override it in the present. He makes a mental note of that as he continues, "So. It's good, Steve. It is."

[from_the_outside]

"It has been," Steve agrees. The friendship he has with Sharon is different than the one he has — had — has with Bucky, but it had gotten them both through some tough times. "For both of us, I think."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes Steve’s handling of the pan, and considers if he should try to take it over himself or not before concluding Steve might be more likely to come up with something more than merely functional.

“I think she thinks so too. Which you probably already know.”

[from_the_outside]

He's not the best cook, but even he can scramble and fry eggs, and he puts the pan on the stovetop, then heads to the fridge for the eggs and butter and milk. "It's funny," he says, as he gets out a bowl and starts cracking eggs into it. "I always liked her, you know, but we were never really close, back during the war. That didn't come until we were both here."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I guess you had more in common then. Now, I mean. After she came back and after you got out of the ice." He hunts up the bread and sets it by Steve, then collects plates and silverware.

[from_the_outside]

"I guess so." One big thing, anyway. He takes the bread with a nod and feeds a few slices into the toaster, then goes back to scrambling eggs while butter melts in the pan. "It was handy, too. I wouldn't have enjoyed having some SHIELD agent I didn't know living down the hall from me."

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky blinks thoughtfully at the toaster for a moment or two, then leans back against the counter with his coffee, deliberately trying to mimic the more relaxed stance he's noticed the other two using.

"I'd think not." Not to mention the odds on them being HYDRA.

[from_the_outside]

Footsteps in the hall herald Sharon's arrival, and she comes back into the kitchen, sniffing at the air. "Breakfast?"

She comes to hand the phone to Steve, then goes to fix herself another cup of coffee with the cinnamon Bucky set out earlier.

[nerves_of_ice]

“Breakfast,” he confirms, with a nod towards Steve where he’s manning the pan. “More than cereal.”

Something about his tone is deliberately bland, almost innocent.

[from_the_outside]

Sharon gives him a faintly exasperated glance at that. "What's wrong with cereal? It's got vitamins."

And it's easy.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Lacks staying power," he observes, just as mild. "Protein's required to maintain optimal muscle function."

[from_the_outside]

"That's what the milk's for," she points out, but it lacks heat, as Steve chuckles and pours the scrambled liquid egg into the pan, where it starts cooking gently. Sharon settles onto a stool at the island and sighs into her coffee.

"Can't believe I'm gonna get bossed around by two of you now."

[nerves_of_ice]

The look that he gives her falls somewhere between uncertain and resigned. "I figure you give as good as you get."

He glances at Steve for confirmation. Or maybe backup.

[from_the_outside]

"Better than," Steve chuckles, meeting that glance with his own crinkled and laughing. Sharon rolls her eyes, but her mouth presses towards a hidden smile.

"You know, I was able to feed myself just fine before either of you came along."

[nerves_of_ice]

Without warning, he has a flash of memory that rolls over him like a wave.

—- seething blue light rolling away on the ground the sky opening a figure clad in skintight white —-

“… think you’re the one who came along,” he says, after a long moment. Bucky blinks repeatedly to clear his vision of remembered light.

[from_the_outside]

She and Steve both look at him, sharp, as he falls silent, as the look in his eyes turns inward, before he speaks again and they exchange a glance before Steve turns back to the eggs, making sure they don't burn.

"I did," Sharon murmurs, still focused on Bucky. "Did you remember something?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“The sky opened.” He looks up at her. “And you fell.”

[from_the_outside]

Her expression softens as Steve turns off the stove and starts parceling out eggs and toast onto plates. "Yeah, I did. Almost right onto your head."