[ 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]

"I know. I know it was."

She leans her forehead against his, feeling his breath, his warmth. "Try not to think about it."

[nerves_of_ice]

A disbelieving breath escapes him, but he accedes to her request all the same. "I'll try."

After a second, he adds, "It's hard. But I'll try."

[from_the_outside]

"I know, darling."

The old endearment rolls off her tongue without any thought behind it. "At least try not to dwell on it."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'll try," he murmurs again, and curls his arm a little more tightly around her.

[from_the_outside]

Her own arms tighten around his neck. She's very nearly in his lap by now, and he hasn't pushed her away – but she's not sure he could, even if he wanted to. Or if he could even want to.

But he holds her more closely, which she thinks he'd be unlikely to do if he didn't want her so near, so she allows herself to shift even closer to him. "Okay."

[nerves_of_ice]

She's warm and vibrant and alive against him, and as she tightens her embrace he spreads his fingers over her hip.

"Are you comfortable enough?" he murmurs, meaning it in multiple ways.

[from_the_outside]

"I could be more comfortable, but I'd either have to let you go or be on top of you to make it happen," she teases. "Are you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"You can be. If you want." He tilts his head a little to the side, watching her intently.

[from_the_outside]

"Wouldn't that fall under pushing for too much?"

It's an honest question, and she leans back enough to watch him with a steady gaze. "I don't want you to feel like I'm, I'm expecting you to act the way you used to."

[nerves_of_ice]

He takes the time to think over her question carefully, aware that she's watching for his reaction but also aware that her concern is an important one.

"I don't think so," he murmurs. "I don't... it's not, you're not - I'm not uncomfortable," he settles on. "I know I don't, I'm not - not acting the same way as I would have, as I must have, but I'm ... I'm not trying to?"

[from_the_outside]

She studies him for a long moment, then nods. "Let me know if you're uncomfortable," she tells him, and shifts with a lithe motion to curl into his lap, the way she used to often before.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Okay," he promises, even as a surge of sensation flashes through him, along with a sudden sense of familiarity for no reason he can adequately explain. He wraps his right arm a little more tightly around her, supporting her against him.

[from_the_outside]

She leans her head against his shoulder and focuses on feeling him breathe, on his arm around her.

"We sat like this a lot," she murmurs. "I never wanted to let you go then, either."

[nerves_of_ice]

"In the field?" he asks, but then, before she can answer -- "In the field." Certainty threads through his words. "The one where you landed."

[from_the_outside]

"In the field," she confirms. "Exactly."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, then turns his face back into her hair, breathing slowly. "It's been-- I'm not used to it. This," he tries to explain.

[from_the_outside]

"We don't have to," she says, quiet. "If it's too weird."

[nerves_of_ice]

"No!" It comes out too quickly, almost desperate, before he can stop himself. "No," he tries again, softer. "That's not - that's not what I meant."

[from_the_outside]

"Okay."

She curves a hand at the side of his throat, cupping his jaw. "Okay."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Sorry," he says, yet again, and tries not to let self-loathing rise up to swamp him. "Sorry. It's just - do you want me to explain?"

He's honestly not sure.

[from_the_outside]

"If you can, yeah."

Who knows where the boundaries are? He certainly doesn't seem to.

[nerves_of_ice]

“Okay.” He takes a second to think about it. She needs to understand, given that she’s worried about pushing him, but if he can manage that without inspiring pity or disgust, well… that would be better than the alternative by far.

“They made me a weapon,” he says, after that brief silence. “A - a tool. A thing. The asset. Not - not human. That has… effects. Not just on me. Not exactly.”

[from_the_outside]

She shakes her head at him, not understanding. "What do you mean, not just on you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"People treated me as that," he says, softly. "Nothing more." With one exception that he doesn't know how to explain, or even if he should.

He looks up at the sky again, trying to find something to hold on to in the stars, unwilling to see the look in her eyes change as he explains. "No conversation other than mission parameters. No touch. Nothing that wasn't medical or experimental or for the program or the mission."

[from_the_outside]

It's a special kind of hell to put a man as charming and friendly as Bucky had been through. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I can see why you're not used to it."