[ 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

[marvel_npc]

James had bought it in France, she remembers Sharon saying, there on the dock. Something deep in her chest aches at the thought.

"Okay," she murmurs. "What about a phone? Do you have a burner you could use until we get you a new one?"

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah. Um..."

She goes into her closet and rummages around, resurfacing with a box of still-packaged burner phones. She grabs one and a charger to go with it, then tosses both on the bed.

[marvel_npc]

Nat takes a moment to scan the label with her own phone, adding the number to her contacts, then packs it into Sharon's bag.

"Do you want me to stay over with you? Sam's got a nice place," she teases. "I can mix those drinks."

[from_the_outside]

"If you don't have anything better to do," Sharon teases back. It doesn't quite have her usual zing, but she gives it her best.

"I heard he has food in the fridge, too."

[marvel_npc]

"All I have to do is get ready for an emergency Congressional hearing sometime in the next week or so," she says, with an eyeroll. "Evidently I drew the short straw. But there's time to figure that out, so... drinks and food first."

She slings the strap of Sharon's bag over her own shoulder. "Sam can even cook. He made me and Steve breakfast the other day. So there's probably something good."

[from_the_outside]

Sharon makes a face and heads out of the room with her, swiping off the light as they go.

"Want any help with that?"

[marvel_npc]

"Mmm. Maybe. We'll see," Nat decides. She goes to the window and makes sure it's shut and locked, then draws the sheer curtains over it, trying to strike the balance between signaling that James won't find Sharon here if he breaks in again without indicating that he'd be unwelcome.

"Let's go. I'll drive."

[from_the_outside]

She watches as Nat closes and shades the window, then nods and goes with her friend to the door.

Is he watching, as they go down the hall? Does he see as she gets into Nat's car?

Will he be in touch? She has to hope so. So she does, as hard as she can, as Nat drives them away, chatting lightly as they go.

For now... goodnight, darling, she thinks, up to the empty sky above.

[nerves_of_ice]

He watches from the roof of her apartment as she leaves with Natasha--

(Natasha, Natasha, Natalia Alianovna)

--and keeps watching until the sleek black car is out of sight. Only then does he move, heading for the secure location he'd picked out.

He spends the night on top of a building in downtown D.C. He knows perfectly well that he's far more likely to be found if he tries hiding on or even under the streets below, at least for now. He's careful to pick one that has no connection to anything, no reason for him to be there. Bucky sneaks into a stairwell, breaks the security lock at the top, and jams the door shut from the outside once he's on the roof. It's a more comfortable bed than many he's had, hidden in the lee of an air-conditioning unit, under an infrared-reflective tarp that'll prevent his body heat from being detected just in case anyone's scanning on a fly-by. Probably not, but there's no harm in being careful.

He lies awake for hours, counting the bright stars overhead and ignoring the clamor of his thoughts as best he can.