[ 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]

She wonders if Steve's managed to fall asleep. She certainly hasn't; not knowing that Bucky's just down the hall, not when there's still so much more they need to do for him. Even the candelight stars from her lamp don't soothe her the way they usually do; nor does his photo, smiling at her from the bedside table.

Getting a glass of water is as good an excuse as any to wander out of her room, robe over her tank top and shorts, but once she's downstairs, a glance out at the back porch distracts her. Very quietly so as not to startle him, she opens the door. "Mind a little company?"

[nerves_of_ice]

Stars or not, he's hypervigilant and aware enough of everything going on around him to have noticed the shadow cast by her soft approach. He's ready when the door opens, and doesn't jump.

Bucky turns to look over his shoulder at her, then tips his head at the next chair over as an invitation. "I don't mind," he thinks to clarify.

Not that he could likely protest even if he did, but he doesn't. He thinks he doesn't, anyway.

"Did I wake you?"

[from_the_outside]

"No." She comes to take the chair he'd indicated, settling back into it and tipping her face up to the stars, trying hard not to think about all the times they'd sat together and watched the sky spin slowly overhead.

"Couldn't sleep?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head: no. He leaves out that he hadn't even bothered to try.

"You too, I guess." It's not exactly a question, and he searches desperately for something else to say. "The stars are clearer here."

[from_the_outside]

"Than in DC? Yeah. A lot clearer."

She watches them for a moment more before she speaks again, her eyes still on the stars. "Aunt Peggy didn't set you up, you know. She told me and Steve to give you a little time. She was just worried about you."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I know she was. About you, too. Both of you." He glances away from the sky and over at her.

"I figured she'd tell you. I just wasn't sure when. Or if - if she'd remember." A longer beat, before he swallows, hard.

"Maybe I shouldn't have gone. But it was ... good ... to see her again."

[from_the_outside]

"I'm glad you did, all things considered."

She looks over at him now, meeting his glance with her own steady one. "She liked seeing you, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

He can't hold her gaze for too long, not with what he has to say, and his own slips down to her hand instead.

"I didn't tell her. About SHIELD. About-- about any of it."

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah."

The word comes out as a sigh as she looks back up at the sky. "Smart. It's a hell of a shock."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Her assistant - Anna? - she said something about keeping her away from the news, like you asked. So."

The ghost of a smile flickers at the corner of his mouth for an instant. "Miss Carter."

[from_the_outside]

Her own lips twitch, and she slides a glance his way without moving her head. "I still prefer agent," she murmurs, before she frowns up at the sky.

"If that's something I even am, anymore."

[nerves_of_ice]

His glance flicks up to her face before he stares down at the grass and earth out in the yard. It gleams silver under the moonlight and starlight, he notices, almost absently.

"I'm sorry."

[from_the_outside]

"Me, too."

She shakes her head, her thoughts swirling and drifting. "I can't believe I never saw it. I can't believe it got this far. SHIELD did so much good work... but it was always rotten at the center. The whole time."

[nerves_of_ice]

"A lot of people never saw it. They know how to hide. And those who did..."

He trails off there for a second, breathing carefully, then makes himself say it.

"... I killed most of them. Probably."

[from_the_outside]

"I won't lie, that's pretty weird to think about."

And it's the truth. But so is this. "But you probably blame yourself for that a lot more than I do."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Pierce told me I changed the century."

It's low and weary, but clear.

[from_the_outside]

"You probably did."

Almost definitely, considering the people he's killed. She watches him, steady. "But if it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. This is on HYDRA, Bucky. Not you."

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head. "But I still did it."

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah."

There's no hiding from that, either. "We're going to have to figure out how to deal with that."

[nerves_of_ice]

"We," he starts, and stops before he gets any further. He doesn't even know how to say it, where to begin.

"We. You." He swallows hard, trying to feel his way with each word. "You don't... have to."

[from_the_outside]

"I know." Her lips turn up in a soft, crooked smile.

"But I'm gonna do it anyway."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Why?" It bursts out of him before he can keep it locked behind his teeth. He adjusts as fast as he can manage to provide some explanation. She deserves that.

"It's not - I mean. Of course you would. You're - you're that kind of person. I ... I know that. I remember that. Mostly. Now."

He flattens his right hand against the arm of the chair he's in, feeling the wood under his fingers, trying to ground himself in the present.

"But. But. Sharon. I hurt you. I scared you. I still do. You - you don't have to, to hurt yourself by doing this. I was gone. You had a life."

[from_the_outside]

The awful thing is, he's not wrong. He'd been gone. She'd mourned him. And even if she hadn't quite been to the point of moving on, she'd been nearing it. He wouldn't have wanted her to be alone and grieving forever, and neither would she. If she made herself, she's pretty sure she could even see what that life would have looked like.

And he had scared her. Hurt her. There's a part of her even now that's wary and ready to spring away from any attack.

But that life that could have been is gone now, and she's been hurt and scared before. "You were gone," she murmurs. "But you're back. And that changes everything. Bucky, there's no way I could ever do anything but help you."

[nerves_of_ice]

He buries his face in his right hand, unable to look at her, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.

He's not entirely conscious of what he's saying as he whispers, "A guardian angel."

[from_the_outside]

Her heart squeezes, hard and painful, and her stomach lurches abruptly to the right. Of all the things she might have expected him to say...

"That's right," she murmurs, her throat thick. "Your guardian angel."