[ 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]

"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."

[nerves_of_ice]

Another shudder runs through him, then another, each harder than the last. Other than that, he doesn't move; fights not to move, not to collapse, not to - not to allow himself to appear erratic, to appear unstable--

"They took everything," he whispers, barely audible. "And now - now I can't, I can't--"

[from_the_outside]

She's shifting before she realizes it, letting go of his hand and coming onto her knees so she can reach her arms around him, drawing him in. "Come here," she murmurs. "We'll help you get it back, Bucky. As much as we can. As much as you can. I promise."

[nerves_of_ice]

He flinches as her arms go around him, instinctive in his attempt to keep her from touching the metal of his left arm which he'd been trying so hard to keep from her since - since waking up, since Steve had woken him up - only for the very flinch to bring him more deeply into her embrace.

The low moan that escapes him is not unlike the sound of a wounded animal in pain. His right arm goes around her waist, and he lowers his face to her shoulder to hide as he tries desperately to get control of himself.

[from_the_outside]

"Bucky." Her voice is a soft murmur, and she holds him closer as he pushes his face to her shoulder, as he holds onto her like he's clinging for dear life. Beneath the thing material of his shirt, she can feel the ridges and bumps where his metal arm was connected to his shoulder, and she wonders, not for the first time, how much it must hurt. How heavy it is. Whether he can feel anything through it.

Her other hand comes up to curve palm and fingers against his hair, cradling his head against her own body.

[nerves_of_ice]

Her hand cups his head, and the feel of her fingers in his hair sends a confused bolt of pure, overwhelming sensation through him.

He gasps, and his arm tightens around her.

[from_the_outside]

He doesn't push her away; instead, he clutches her closer. She shoves ruthlessly down on the faint thread of panic that is the memory of being attacked by the Winter Soldier and lets him cling to her, lets him pull her closer.

Very gently, she strokes her hand over his hair.

[nerves_of_ice]

As close as she is to him now, it's impossible to miss the way his body shivers and the way his breath jerks in his chest at her touch.

Other than that, he doesn't move, holding himself as still as he can with the last vestiges of rigid control.

[from_the_outside]

The way he trembles, the way his breath catches, all of it only makes her hold him more closely. Sharon sets her own cheek against his hair, pressing herself against him.

"I'm here," she murmurs. "You have me back, too."