[ 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]

"In the morning," she clarifies, as his hand tightens on hers. She gives him a sweet smile.

"Or when we go back inside. No rush."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Oh." He tries not to let the surge of relief show, and is pretty sure he's failed at that, especially since he's already given himself away with the way he's holding on to her.

Bucky swallows, determined to hide any reluctance, and says, "I should let you get some sleep, though."

[from_the_outside]

Her smile grows warm and fond and a little crooked. "You always were good at taking care of me," she murmurs.

"But I don't want to go in yet. I want to spend more time with you. Is that okay?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, immediate and without any hesitation at all. "Yes. It is."

There's a quiet ache deep in his chest as he looks at her smile, and he can't keep himself from asking. "Was I?"

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah. Me, Steve... everyone, really."

How many times had he made sure they ate, slept, were comfortable and easy? "And you were pretty protective of my reputation, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

He looks up at the tree above them, trying to chase a flicker of memory, then out at the sky. It's bright with so many stars that even the moonlight can't dim them.

"There was - you hummed a song," he says, finally. "On the dock."

[from_the_outside]

"Moonlight Serenade."

She can remember it like it was yesterday; the feeling of dancing slow and close with him for the first time, her amusement at his teasing, how she didn't want to let go. "My second night at the camp. You had your friend switch out the discs so we could have a slow dance."

[nerves_of_ice]

He tries to catch any recollection of it from the scattered shards of his mind, and comes up with flashes of warmth, of golden hair, of people and laughter and camaraderie that feels lost and distant now.

"Sneaky of me," he murmurs. "And you let me get away with it?"

[from_the_outside]

"I liked you," she says, simply.

It had been flattering, charming, amusing. But what it really came down to was just that: she'd liked him. So she'd wanted that dance.

Now, she looks up at the sky and hums again, soft and low, the melody of 'Moonlight Serenade.'

[nerves_of_ice]

The impulse strikes him to ask her if she wants to dance again, and he dismisses it just as quickly. The comparison between who he is now and who he was will do nothing but bring her pain when he inevitably fails to live up to his own past, not to mention he's not going to ask her to step close to him or even look at his left arm, much less allow herself to have to come in contact with it.

He watches her for a second, then looks down at their linked hands instead.

[from_the_outside]

He shifts, and the motion catches her attention. When she glances over, she see him looking down, studying their hands. "Does this help?"

The memories. Sitting here. All of it. "Hearing about it?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods. "I think so." Bucky looks back up at her. "But I don't w--"

The sudden closure of his throat catches him by surprise, and he makes a frustrated sound before trying again. "--as long as it's no trouble. For you."

[from_the_outside]

He catches himself up on the conditioning again – again, even for such a small thing – and she squeezes his hand, trying to help him ground himself. "It's no trouble," she promises.

"We can look at pictures. Read old letters. I'll tell you all about it, Bucky. I don't mind."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Steve was trying something similar," he murmurs. "Before. Things from - from back in Brooklyn. But it made him sad, too."

[from_the_outside]

Of course it made him sad, the same way this is making her sad. There's no way through this that won't be lined with sorrow and hurt and new grief all the way along the path.

But it's worth it. It's all worth it. "He was more sad before," she murmurs. "After we lost you. So was I. Being sad now doesn't mean we don't want to do it."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's good you had each other," he says, softly, meaning every word.

[from_the_outside]

"It really was."

Steve could hardly be more different from his best friend, but his steady support had been a bastion for her all this time. "I don't know what I would have done without him."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's a good thing Pierce and Zola both are already dead." Something grim and bleak threads into his words. "I'll never forgive myself for what I did to him. To you. To you both."

[from_the_outside]

"We'll never forgive them for what they did to you."

Sharon looks over at him, runs her thumb lightly over his knuckles. It's the same had that had struck her, bound her, tied her up to hang mid-air like a target... but it's also the same hand that had touched her with so much love she'd felt filled with it to bursting. "There's a lot to figure out and work through. But we will, Bucky. Steve and I, we won't abandon you."

[nerves_of_ice]

"You never would. Even if you should. When you should," he corrects himself, and looks up at her, searching her face.

"I don't - don't expect, expect anything. You know that. Don't you?"

[from_the_outside]

She shakes her head slightly, uncertain. "You mean you don't expect us to help?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's..." He trails off into silence, unable to find the right words at first.

"No," he says, finally. "I know you will. But when it doesn't work, when it's not enough... I want you to know it's okay to stop."

[from_the_outside]

"It wouldn't be okay," she says, without room for argument. "But we wouldn't stop even if it were."

[nerves_of_ice]

He draws a ragged breath, then another. He doesn't understand how she can be so sure, so determined. Why she won't even entertain the idea that he's an acceptable loss.

Nor does he understand why what she says makes him want to weep. A shudder runs through him as he fights for self-control.

[from_the_outside]

"Bucky," she murmurs, and covers their linked hands with her other palm. "You're right. Part of it is because that's who we are. Steve, especially. But it's also because we love you."