[oom] I'm right here beside you

[from_the_outside]

 Sleep is a joke.

It's not just the intel that she stays up sifting through, blue light straining her eyes; it's not just the coffee she drinks, trying to keep her brain sharp and her thoughts on track. 

It's time.

Minutes that slip away, that she can't get back. Hours that tick ponderously past. She lies alone in her bed and can't close her eyes because if she does, if she sleeps, it's another night gone, another night closer to the day Bucky goes back under and –

So she stays up and works. 

It means that when she waits for him in the morning to come find her before they meet with T'Challa and the others, her skin is pale and translucent and she has that sick feeling of an all-nighter, fatigue poisons running rampant through her bloodstream – but she has a list of observations from her analysis, and two mugs of coffee kept warm on the credenza: one pale with milk and sugar, the other black and as strong as her little coffee maker could handle.

Comments

[from_the_outside]

He howls and her heart breaks – she's only heard him like this once before, during the scan – and she switches tactics, taking his grasping hand in one of hers and settling the other at the side of his head even as he throws it violently back.

"Bucky," she says, louder, urgent. "Bucky. I'm here. I'm right here. I'm looking at you. Everything is okay. Sweetheart, wake up."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Bucky--"

Glass shatters around him, exploding outward, and he jerks upright, blinking wildly in the darkness for a moment before his eyes focus on her.

Steve's gone - no, Steve was never here, that was the dream. But Sharon is, worried, holding his hand and trying to bring him out of it. Again.

"Ah, fuck," he hisses, and closes his eyes - only to open them again quickly, not ready to see the images waiting behind his eyelids. "Damn it. I'm sorry." Even as he says it, his hand tightens on hers.

[from_the_outside]

"It's okay," she says, without hesitation, and tucks his hand in hers, pressing the back of it against her chest as she smoothes over his hair with the other.

Birds are starting to chirp outside, and as she looks at the window she can see a faint gray tinge to the light. "It's almost dawn anyhow," she tells him. "Do you want to try and get a little more sleep, or get up?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'm not sleeping again after that," he says, low and steady, and starts to shift so he can get to his feet. "You can, though."

[from_the_outside]

"I'm okay," she says, sitting up and drawing her knees up to her chest, the sheet pulling over them as she loops her arms around them and watches him. "Do you want me to make some coffee?"

He might prefer doing it himself, she knows. Something to do, something to focus on.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I need to bring in fresh water first," he says. Bucky pulls on a pair of pants, then comes back to lean over the bed and kiss her, gentle and sweet.

"Morning," he murmurs, when it breaks. "Sorry it's starting so early."

[from_the_outside]

"Morning," she says, smiling at him. "I don't mind. I need to get better about waking up early anyway."

She's still not a morning person, but as long as she doesn't have to do much in the way of complicated thinking, she should be fine.

[nerves_of_ice]

He kisses her again, wordlessly, then turns away to snag the pitcher and go outside for water.

[from_the_outside]

She gets up when the door closes and digs through her tote for a pair of soft shorts and a tank top; she's not ready yet for real clothes, but if he wants to sit outside she should at least put something on.

She picks up the Jenga blocks as she waits for him, too, smiling to herself as she does.

[nerves_of_ice]

It takes him a while, long enough to splash cold water on his face and over his neck until the dream's driven away completely, long enough to wash up and only then fill the pitcher.

He carries it back inside, his hair damp and curling around his neck, and pours enough water into the kettle to fill the press before he reaches for the coffee tin.

[from_the_outside]

She's sitting cross-legged on the bed (now made, though still a little rumpled) when he comes back in, and smiles a little at the way his damp hair curls against the nape of his neck.

"Better?" she asks.

Sometimes you just need to stick your head in some cold water and let the shock of it ground you.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Better," he agrees. "Sorry. Again."

He starts to add another spoon of coffee to the press and visibly checks himself, stopping before it's too strong.

[from_the_outside]

"Don't worry about it," she says, and quirks a half-smile at him.

"Make it as strong as you want. I can always make another pot."

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head, sets the coffee tin aside, and picks up the now-boiling kettle to fill the press with water. Once it's brewing, he comes to sit beside her on the bed, and reaches for her hand, but doesn't say anything. Not yet.

[from_the_outside]

She threads their fingers loosely together and watches him.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

It's quiet, and somehow clear that no will be a perfectly acceptable answer.

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head, without hesitation.

"Not this one."

Sharon's already worried enough about the procedure, about him going under again. Hearing about this nightmare will not help at all. He's sure of that, all the way down to the bone.

[from_the_outside]

"Okay."

He's certain, so she doesn't push, just settles her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes as she runs the pad of her thumb over the back of his hand.

[nerves_of_ice]

She doesn't press him, and he is bitterly, painfully glad about that. He stays quiet while the coffee brews, while she rests her head on his shoulder.

It's so early, still. Dawn hasn't fully arrived. But there's no way he could have tried to sleep again, not after that.

[from_the_outside]

She dozes a little against his shoulder – it's early, and as he noted back in Polygyros, she's no a morning person – but blinks her eyes open after a few minutes, when she thinks the coffee's about ready.

"Want to sit outside?" she asks. "Watch the sun rise?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's what I usually do," he says, keeping his voice low. "I can promise the view's worth it. Come on."

He coaxes her to sit up, then goes to pour the first mug of coffee for her.

[from_the_outside]

She gets up at his nudge and pads, barefoot, over to the little fridge to pull out the milk so she can stir some in when he hands her the mug, then adds a heaping spoonful of sugar before sipping at it with a satisfied sigh.

It's bound to be a little cool outside still; she grabs the throws and waits for him by the hut door.

[nerves_of_ice]

He pours his own mug full and meets her by the door. Once they're outside, he nods to a spot by the hut's wall that faces east.

"I usually set up here," he says. "It holds a little more warmth than elsewhere." Looking at her, he adds, "Wrap one of those around yourself, okay?"

[from_the_outside]

"Yes, dear," she says, teasing lightly through her tiredness, and wraps the purple-and-smoke throw around her bare shoulders, leaving her right hand free so she can sip at her coffee.

That done, she takes a seat by the spot indicated, looking up at him before turning her gaze out toward the horizon.

[nerves_of_ice]

He sits down beside her, apparently unbothered by the morning chill, and sips his coffee.

"Get enough sleep?"

It sounds light. It's anything but.

[from_the_outside]

"Yes," she says, without any hesitation or hint of untruth.

Maybe not as much as usual, but she's reasonably sure she got a solid six hours in there somewhere. Perhaps more. She's not actually sure what time she fell asleep.

She shifts close to his side and leans her head back against the hut's wall, watching as the morning stars begin to dim.