[ 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

[nerves_of_ice]

"It is. Some sort of titanium-steel alloy, I think." He holds his hand still for her exploration with no sign of difficulty or sensitivity.

[from_the_outside]

She nods, and lifts his hand to place a kiss to his metal palm. "I'm sorry about your arm," she murmurs, as she lowers his hand again.

[nerves_of_ice]

The gentleness of her gesture nearly undoes him. His hand hangs in the air for a second or two in an agony of indecision before he carefully places it beside her leg, on his own - just to be sure.

"It was ... strange ... waking up with it the first time," he murmurs. For a number of reasons. "But I'm pretty much used to it now, I guess."

[from_the_outside]

"I bet." He walks a little differently, she'd noticed. It must have something to do with the weight of his arm, the not-quite-natural feeling in it. "Does it hurt?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He looks down at his arm as if he might find the answer there. "I don't really notice it any more."

[from_the_outside]

Whether he means the arm or the pain – and she thinks he means the pain – it's an answer that makes her stomach clench in sympathy. She reaches to set her palm at the place where the metal joins his shoulder and chest. "I wish you hadn't had to get to that point."

[nerves_of_ice]

Confused nerves fire at the light pressure along the interface between metal and flesh, dimming and flashing through and around thickened scar tissue. He doesn't react; he's felt this kind of thing before, and her touch is a lot gentler than what he's become accustomed to.

"Better than the alternative, probably." He sounds a little wry, but can't really help it. "The first connections weren't great. I tried tearing it off, but obviously that wasn't allowed."

[from_the_outside]

"Obviously," she agrees, wry, and smooths her hand over his metal shoulder. God, the things they did to him, to her beautiful Bucky, so full of life and hope...

"I guess it's probably pretty strong, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Yeah. It is." He watches as her hand brushes over him, wishing he could feel it the way he could if it were his other arm.

As long as he doesn't say it, he can think it, he realizes. Or at least mostly; the side effects are well within tolerance. Good.

"It has an override enhancement, too. Gives me more force in ... certain applications."

[from_the_outside]

"Mm." They'd certainly done their best to make him as effective and terrifying as possible. She runs her hand down the metal curves and rests her palm on his forearm, then settles her head and shoulder back against him once more. "Thanks for sitting with me."

[nerves_of_ice]

"I should be thanking you," he points out, softly. He leans his head against hers.

[from_the_outside]

"Then you're welcome."

She wonders what time it is. Her eyes are heavy and she has that muffling, fatigued feeling of very late night tugging down on her bones, but what if she lets go and it turns out this was just a dream?

For now, she closes her eyes and breathes him in, trying to wrap her mind around all the differences, trying to remind herself that things aren't the same. Even though his arm around her feels just as sweet as it always did.

[nerves_of_ice]

She settles a little more comfortably against him, breathing deeply, and he holds her close and lets himself just be present in the moment, here with her.

[from_the_outside]

It's not until she blinks herself awake from a light doze that she realizes she's drifting. Like it or not, she needs to sleep... and so does he. "We should probably go back inside."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Probably," he agrees, and raises his head from her hair. She needs rest. "Let me help you up?"

[from_the_outside]

"Yeah, okay."

She puts her hands down to shift herself, her legs a little asleep from sitting this way for so long.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Hold on." He cradles her against his chest with his right arm around her back, then slips his left under her legs as she shifts. He rocks forward and rises to his feet in one smooth motion, carrying her with him as he stands.

[from_the_outside]

One second, she's relaxed against him, and the next –

duct tape over her mouth, rope around her wrists, he's carrying her into the bedroom and dumping her onto the bed to wrap her in her comforter

– she gasps and stiffens, then shoves the reaction down as far as she can. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

[nerves_of_ice]

He freezes, going absolutely still, then bends down and lowers his left arm to set her on her feet. As soon as she's standing, he takes a long step back, then a second.

"My fault," he whispers, barely audible. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

[from_the_outside]

"It's not, it's – "

She swallows hard against the sick swell of memory. She can almost feel the binding around her ankles. "I'll get over it. I promise."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It is." It's all he can do to control the fierceness in his tone, trying not to alarm or upset her further. "It's not your fault. It's not. I did this to you. And I didn't even think."

[from_the_outside]

"You shouldn't have had to, I always loved it when you picked me up and carried me around."

And she will again. She will. "I'll be damned if I let HYDRA take that from me, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to hide the pain in his own. "I'm sorry," he whispers again, helpless to do anything but.

[from_the_outside]

"Bucky, no." She can't hear the agony in his whisper and ignore the flash of it in his eyes before he closes them and not move, not go to him. She comes forward and cradles his head in her hands. "It's going to be okay."

[nerves_of_ice]

He's aware when she moves, due to the shift of air around her and the whisper of her clothing, but he still nearly startles backward when she takes his face in her hands. He opens his eyes, surprised, and stares at her.

"Will it?"