[ 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."

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[nerves_of_ice]

He takes the book from her with care, holding it in his gloved left hand, and studies it for a second before he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the page.

Bucky hands it back and looks up at her. "I'm sure it will. It's kind of you to offer. Thank you."

He hesitates, struggling with the chains and restrictions in his mind, then speaks again, carefully feeling his way with each word. "You asked why I came. It wasn't for - I wasn't looking for, for help. I... I was glad to, to know you were, were here. And thought it would be okay to - to see you. Again."

[marvel_npc]

She listens to him, doing her best to pay attention to each careful word. "Sergeant," she says, once he's finished.

It's difficult to put what she's feeling into words: seeing him again, realizing that even though he's alive, he's still not found. "I'm... I'm very glad you came. I hope you'll visit again, soon."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'll try," he says, softly. "Soon."

Bucky gets to his feet and looks down at her for a moment. "It was ... it's good to see you, Agent Carter."

[marvel_npc]

"And you, Sergeant."

She holds out her hands to him.

[nerves_of_ice]

He blinks once but takes her hands, gently curling his fingers around hers.

[marvel_npc]

There's still some strength left in her fragile hands, and now she uses it to tug him down to her, low enough for her to kiss his cheek.

And to whisper in his ear. "You young scamp. Try not to put us through all that misery again, won't you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

A startled breath huffs out of him, carrying with it something that might be a ghost of laughter's distant memory.

"I'll try. I promise."

He squeezes her hands, careful to not exert too much pressure, and straightens, looking down at her. He doesn't smile, but there's something quiet and even fond about the look in his eyes, just for a moment.

"Take care, Agent Carter. I'll come see you again."

Someday. Maybe. If he can.

[marvel_npc]

"You had better."

She lets go of his hand and gives him an imperious glance. "Now, go on. I haven't any desire for you to watch my mind wander again, and I suppose it'll happen sooner rather than later."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Yes, ma'am." Bucky pulls his cap back onto his head and goes to the door, moving with the unthinking quiet stalk that's become second nature to him over the years. He pauses there and looks back at her over his shoulder, then nods farewell and slips out into the hall.

[marvel_npc]

She waits until she hears the front door close, and a few moments after that before she reaches once more for her tea.

"Anna," she calls. "Bring me my phone, please."

[nerves_of_ice]

He leaves the house and heads up the sidewalk, careful to move in a way that won't draw attention or make him look like anything other than someone who belongs in the area, even while his mind whirls.

There's a metro stop not far away. He can take it to long-term parking and obtain a vehicle there, then swap before he gets too near the house. He can take a couple of days, maybe three, to figure out what he's going to do next.

It's not safe; nowhere is. But it's as safe as he's likely to find for a while.