Sharon Carter (
from_the_outside) wrote2023-05-06 08:21 pm
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[ WWII AU ] a ghost story
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."
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."
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"Sharon's right," Steve says. "We're not using you for leverage or anything else. If we tell Nat, it'll be because she'd want to know you're safe."
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"How?"
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Not to mention he's damn certain neither of the two here with him would stand for it.
"But if there turns out to be a way, maybe you shouldn't rule it out. Is all I'm saying."
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"And if we do start telling people," Steve continues, after he looks away from her and back to Bucky, "I want to make sure we've got you covered, first. We've got to try and figure out how to undo what they did to you, Buck."
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"They reprogrammed my head, Steve. My mind. There's no way to undo something like that."
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"Steve's right," Sharon murmurs. "If you were programmed, you can be deprogrammed."
"And HYDRA doesn't have anyone as smart as Tony and Bruce on their side," Steve points out. "We'll figure it out. I'm not just going to sit here and say we can't do anything."
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("Sergeant Barnes?")
"Tony Stark won't want to help me." He keeps it as steady as he can, trying not to look either of them in the eye, cowardly though it may be. He looks into the air somewhere between them instead.
"Because I killed his parents. I killed Howard."
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"They died in a car crash," she says. "Aunt Peggy told me."
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The look in his eyes is bleak. "Howard - I didn't know him. He - he tried, but I -- "
His ability to speak chokes off there and he shakes his head. "At least I made it quick."
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"They sent you to assassinate him? Why?"
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"For Project Rebirth. They were trying to reproduce the serum, Steve. The one that changed us. And they got far enough to test it."
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It's not accusatory, exactly, but she can't blame him for his suspicions. "Did Peggy?"
"No." She shakes her head, firm. "And I don't know, Steve... she might have. I've never heard of Rebirth, they must have locked it down tight, after... but I'm not surprised they tried it."
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A flash of memory rocks him - a bar in Korea, a fight that led to a replacement arm, a man's face. Bradley. That'd been his name. Isaiah Bradley. Who the Army'd put through horrors of his own.
None of this makes it to his expression. He stays still, stays quiet, and gives them space to come to terms with it.
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Finally, Steve takes and exhales a deep, slow breath. "You're right that Tony won't take it well. I'll... we'll figure something out."
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The thought of Howard's son hating him twists something in his gut, but there it is. He murdered Tony Stark's parents, and Howard's kid deserves to hate him for it.
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"Steve," Sharon says, soft. "Whatever you're thinking, we can't hide it from him. Not for long. You can't. He'd take it like you've been lying to him."
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"You don't deserve to lose any more friends. Or to have to try to lie to him."
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He closes his eyes, a flicker of pain crossing his face, and she knows he's thinking of Howard as he was: charming, irrepressible, brilliant. Sharon pushes off the counter and comes around to put a light hand on his shoulder, waiting until he opens his eyes and looks at her before she lifts it away again.
He turns his head back toward Bucky, shakes it. "I don't blame you for Howard and Maria, Buck. I can't. That wasn't your decision."
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Weariness hits him like a battering ram, even as he tries to explain anyway. "I know you don't. But I still did it. You have to accept that someone has to pay for that."
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Bucky shakes his head. "Lots. I-- I know, at least all the ones I've seen, and I, I think I know where to find them. How to find them. But I have to pull it out of my head. I will. I will. I will, I swear, I--"
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