[ 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

[nerves_of_ice]

He makes a skeptical sound in response. Steve sets the rest of their plates down and takes his own seat. “Get it while it’s hot,” he says, cheerfully.

Bucky nods but doesn’t touch the food until the others do.

[from_the_outside]

"Thanks for the eggs, Steve," Sharon tells him, as Steve slides onto a seat of his own, before she digs in. It doesn't escape her notice that Bucky doesn't eat until they do, and she packs it away to think about more later.

"Bucky," she murmurs, after a moment. "The letters you wrote, they're still here. You could read them, if you— if you're interested. They might jog some more memories."

[nerves_of_ice]

He takes a long swallow of coffee before he says anything.

“Do you want me to read them?”

[from_the_outside]

I want you to want to read them. She doesn't say it. It wouldn't help.

She toys with her eggs for a moment, instead, then nods. "I think it might be a good idea for you to go through everything we've got. Not just the letters."

[nerves_of_ice]

He thinks he sees a flicker in her glance. His answer must have been wrong, but he’s not sure why. Clearly she thinks it’s needed intelligence for him - and Steve, quietly observing while he makes inroads on breakfast, must agree - but isn’t it a violation of her privacy? Then again maybe it’s not since he wrote them originally. Or the man he was before the Winter Soldier did, anyway, the man who knew how to laugh and love and care and who never murdered any of his friends.

“Okay,” is all he says. “If you’re sure.”

[from_the_outside]

"I am." Does he remember writing the letters, does he remember anything about what they say? If it's possible for a ghost to keep fighting...

"Besides, they're your things."

[nerves_of_ice]

He frowns a little at that. “How can they be? I left them for you. Both of you. Didn’t I?”

[from_the_outside]

"But you wrote them," she points out. "And... at least one of those letters is one that came for you. You should get to see it."

Her heart's been breaking all over again for the Barnes sisters, for Bucky in front of her. They should have had the chance to grow old together.

[nerves_of_ice]

He opens his mouth to ask who it was from, only to go still as the display from the museum flashes behind his eyes.

“They’re all gone. Aren’t they.”

[from_the_outside]

Steve's hand stills, before he looks over at his best friend with deep sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

And pain. They were his family, too. "I'm sorry, Buck. Yes."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, and stares down at the plate in front of him.

It’s impossible to remember their faces, he finds. They all blur together in flashes.

[from_the_outside]

Steve and Sharon exchange a look, before she reaches out to gently curl her fingers over Bucky's still hand. "But you do have some family left," she murmurs. "And I don't just mean us. Becky had children. The others, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

His hand twitches under her gentle touch, and he looks up at her, then back and forth between them.

“Children?”

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah." Steve smiles at him.

"I've met most of them. You're an uncle, Bucky."

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky stares at him like he’s just started speaking another language, one he himself doesn’t know yet. He’s not entirely sure he hasn’t.

“What?”

[from_the_outside]

"A uncle," Steve repeats, his smile gentle but warm. "And you'd like the kids, you really would. They're swell."

[nerves_of_ice]

That’s not the problem, he thinks. The problem is that they’d be horrified by the monster he’s become, compared to whatever they might have been told about their uncle - fuck, how is that even possible? - who died in the war all those years ago.

“I bet they were thrilled,” he manages, knowing he has to say something. “To see you.”

[from_the_outside]

"Probably about as thrilled as I was to see them," Steve says, wistful, as Sharon's fingers squeeze Bucky's hand before letting go. "I know it's... a lot to take in."

[nerves_of_ice]

His fingers feel cold where Sharon’s hand had been, without her warmth.

“All of this is. For everyone.” Maybe saying the obvious will help. Somehow.

[from_the_outside]

Steve blows out a breath and goes back to his eggs. "Yeah. For everyone."

Sharon watches them both, toying with her own breakfast, her appetite nonexistent. Neither she nor Steve are really equipped to help Bucky, not with everything he told them, and it's possible they'll do something to actively harm him. Would he even be able to stop them? "Anyway," she says, setting down her fork and going back to her coffee. "I can show you the letters and files later."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Okay.” It’s barely a murmur, low but clear. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t know what to do. He would if it were a mission, but now? He doesn’t know how to stop hurting them.

[from_the_outside]

Steve glances pointedly at her plate, and she sighs, pushes it over to him, still mostly full. "You finish it," she tells him. "And then we should probably figure out how we're going to spend the time we have here, before you need to go to New York, Steve."

[nerves_of_ice]

He tracks the movement of the plate and how little she’s eaten with a frown. His glance flickers to her face and he studies her for a moment before deciding not to press the issue.

Bucky looks back at Steve. “What objectives do we have?” he asks, splitting his attention between them.

[from_the_outside]

"We'll need to keep an eye on the news," she muses, considering. "And decide if one or more of us will go into the city to be with Nat at the hearing."

"I'll need to figure out what to tell the Avengers," Steve says. "And what our next steps should be."

[nerves_of_ice]

He’s quiet for a second or two, considering them. “Would more intel help? On HYDRA?”