[oom] you don't need to save me, but would you run away with me? // Part 2

[from_the_outside]

It's a long, long week. 

All the weeks here are long. She's been exhausted since she first arrived, and it hasn't gotten any easier – she's just gotten used to it.

What she isn't used to is watching what it does to Bucky.

He keeps busy, vanishing shortly after breakfast and not reappearing until well after dark, sometimes not until close to midnight. That doesn't mean she doesn't have eyes on him – she has eyes everywhere in this city. Some of what he gets up to he tells her about. Some of it she sees or hears about.

Some she only pieces together after the fact.

For example:

Four days into his stay she sees a flurry of alerts and messages about a gang of thugs that had decided to tangle with him in a Lowtown market. The videos of him throwing them into plate glass windows and walls and storefront doors travel through Madripoor like wildfire.

And then there are the rumors. It's public knowledge he killed Cade and that he's been seen with the art dealer: what no one knows is why, and the whispers grow steadily more frenetic as the week rolls on. The general consensus seems to be that the art dealer had Cade disposed of in order to help her own climb to power. More than one person attempts to contract him for help with an unsolvable problem. No one manages to hire him. No one seems to know what he wants.

Worse is that as the power dynamic between those on the lower rung vying for Selby's position fluctuates, he deliberately allows himself to be seen more often, delves more deeply into Madripoor's seedy shadows. She doesn't understand until her security catches a would-be assassin she saw coming a mile away, and then she realizes: his involvement with her, with Cade, has painted a target on her back.

So he's decided to paint a larger one on his own.

He loses weight. She pushes breakfast and dinner at him, but he eats mechanically, hardly seems to notice. The lines drawn on his face seem carved into rock. He stops smiling except occasionally when they're alone in the middle of the night, or when his phone pings with a text from Sam.

On the fifth night, he stops sleeping. 

He wakes up from a nightmare he refuses to talk about, and for the next few days she doesn't see him sleep at all. He's catching catnaps like he used to back in the Winter Soldier days, she thinks, but she's not sure. Every day he's a little quieter, a little more grim.

Which is why it's so strange that her apartment is completely filled with flowers.

Everywhere she looks now, there they are: large, expensive bouquets in fancy vases on nearly every available surface. He's had one delivered every single day, and every day she hates herself a little more for bringing him here. Every day he tells her come home with me.

Every day she tells him I can't. And he looks at her with those determined, weary eyes, and her heart breaks a little more.

It's a little over a week after he'd first arrived that she's hosting clients again. The party hasn't even started, and she already wishes she had a drink.

(There weren't any flowers today. She wonders if that's a sign.)

Comments

[from_the_outside]

It took her years to set herself up here. It takes fewer than six hours to burn the whole thing to the ground.

Mateo, to her surprise, pushes back a little against the narrative she's trying to establish – he's either even smarter than she thought or liked her more than she realized. Not that it matters; the Power Broker tells him with no room for argument to take care of Anders. That's he's already seeing to the art dealer.

It doesn't take long for the newest incarnation of the rumor to spread, that the Power Broker hired the Winter Soldier and gave him a mission, that the version of him who has been seen around town and at the art gallery is a cover, that he was keeping an eye on the art dealer all along. And it's not long after that before her security team comes running up the stairs, absolutely willing to believe the worst of the man who has been a thorn in their collective side all week long.

Which is perfect. Sharon refuses to hear them out, is absolutely unwilling to listen to any insinuation that Bucky has been playing her this whole time, that he's the real danger. She points out that they, her security team, are the only ones here who endangered her, and escalates the fight until she's fired them all in a fit of pique.

And when Inga protests, saying they've been loyal to her for years, that she shouldn't trust the Winter Soldier, she fires her, too.

[nerves_of_ice]

He follows the ex-security team out, absolutely prepared for the fight if it comes to it. It doesn't. Their loyalty, such as it was, appears to have been bought by coin only, and with Sharon having fired them, they're willing to leave her hung out to dry.

Except for the security chief, it turns out. As the rest of the team leaves, the man gets up in Bucky's face, standing in front of him at the gallery door. "I'm watching you," he snarls. "You're not as good as you think you are. She'll figure it out, and when she does I'll gut you and leave you for the fish."

Bucky stares him down in silence until the man turns and slams his way out through the gallery and to the street beyond, then turns to go through the building and set his own security modifications in motion.

[from_the_outside]

By five o'clock, almost everything is ready.

Inga's gone. The security team is gone. The rumors she'd set are chasing around Madripoor like wildfire.

Sarah's gone, too. The only one of the bunch Sharon didn't fire. She tells her not to come in tomorrow, it isn't safe, and Sarah only nods, looking weary and a little sad, and says her goodnights, and then there's only her.

This is the hardest part of the whole plan. With the security team gone, anyone who believes that she orchestrated last night's hit is free and clear to take a pass at her. She can only hope their fear of thwarting the Power Broker and robbing him of his revenge is greater than their desire for their own.

In the meantime, she pulls the pack back out and adds the few things they'd been waiting on: the glass art, the angelfish magnet Bucky had given her. She hasn't eaten anything all day, but she's too nervous and wound-up to have something now.

Instead, she goes down to the gallery and into the vaults to remove the Royal Danish Egg from its locked case, carefully boxing it and putting it into a bag to be loaded into the car along with the pack and the Cézanne.

And then there's nothing to do but wait.

[nerves_of_ice]

He takes the tablet from the monitoring station and makes sure that the software modification is in place. It is. The system's cut off from the outside, to prevent any of the ex-security team or anyone else in Madripoor from trying to get a look at what's going on in the gallery. He keeps the tablet with him as he makes his way through the building, watching for any sort of alert, watching over Sharon as he works.

He destroys the cameras that would show the car leaving the garage, and leaves the others for now - he'll destroy them too once they're in the car, but needs them to monitor for unauthorized access until then. He scans along the wall and breaks through the concrete to reveal the natural gas lines that feed the building, then rigs the valves and pipes to explode as soon as he activates the trigger. He does the same thing on the level right above the gallery, in the unfinished lofted ceiling below the living space above.

When he finally returns to the penthouse, he's lightly covered in concrete dust and oil, smells like smoke, and looks as grim as he ever has.

[from_the_outside]

Sharon is standing, arms folded, watching the sun set on Madripoor from a spot by the window with no good sight lines from neighboring roofs, and she turns to him when he enters.

The pack, the painting, and the bag containing the egg are all sitting by the couch, ready to go in the car, and her pulse is beginning to pick up. Her blood pressure is probably skyrocketing. She takes a deep breath as she looks him over, her own expression exhausted and strained.

"Everything set?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, glances at the tablet, and sets it on top of his pack before crossing the room to her. Bucky draws her back from the window so that there's no chance they'll be seen, then pulls her into his arms.

"It's all ready," he murmurs. "Time to go home, baby."

[from_the_outside]

She folds into him, her heart pounding, light-headed, too anxious to be excited. "Home," she whispers, and blinks back tears she can't afford yet.

She pulls back enough to lean up and kiss him, sure and sweet, then smiles. "Okay," she tells him. "Let's go."

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles back at her for an instant before his focus fades back into grim determination.

"One second." Bucky goes to the coat closet and claims two bulky black coats without any metallic or leather features, bringing them back to the things by the couch.

"I'll carry these and my pack -- and I need to run some things on the tablet as we go. Can you get the rest of it?"

[from_the_outside]

"Yes," she tells him, and goes to the couch to get the painting, slings the bag with the egg over her other shoulder. She casts a last look around them place, but if she'd expected to feel any kind of remorse or regret, none comes.

It was never her. Time to shed this life and go back to her own.

She heads towards the door and waits for Bucky; he'll get them out unseen and unrecorded. All she has to do is trust him, and that's as easy as breathing.

[nerves_of_ice]

He slings the pack over his shoulder; slings the coats over it, then studies the tablet, his expression blank and his focus absolute.

"Follow me. Stay as close as you can," he tells her. "Stay right behind me, not to either side. Don't make a sound if you can help it. We've got nine seconds to clear each zone."

It doesn't sound like much, but it's an eternity in a security system. He waits to make sure she understands before he taps an icon on the tablet and opens the door.

[from_the_outside]

She nods and positions herself directly behind him, her exhaustion washing away in a focused rush of adrenaline.

It's like any other mission. The weight of the handgun tucked into the back of her pants is a grim reassurance.

He moves quickly, but not so fast that she can't stay behind him, a silent ghost shadowing his steps as closely as she can without barking his heel. They make it out of the penthouse and along the hall, down the stairs to the gallery without incident.

She's most worried about the open gallery floor. It's echoing and empty and she can taste copper in her mouth as her anxiety goes into overdrive, pumping adrenaline into her system –

But no one's there. No one stops them. And they make it to the garage without incident.

[nerves_of_ice]

He disables the camera that's focused on her car with a single silenced shot before he moves into its viewframe and opens first the trunk, then the back seat.

Bucky drapes the coats over the roof of the car, loads his pack into the trunk, and goes to take the painting and bag from Sharon.

"Get into the back," he tells her. "Lie across the floor, not the seat. I know it'll be uncomfortable and I'm sorry. But with the coats over you, you'll look like just a bunch of shadows to anyone who gets a glimpse through the window."

[from_the_outside]

"It's fine," she says, and gets in without complaint, lying across the footwell as ordered. He drapes the coats over her and she pulls one over her head and face, lets him arrange them over the rest of her.

It's all too easy, when he closes the car door, for panic to try and set in. The coats are claustrophobic, the footwell is digging into her back, and her breathing is the only sound aside from the small ones he makes as he finishes loading the car.

She casts her mind back to her long-ago training and counts her breaths, slows them, and when he gets into the car, she's lying as still and silent as if she really were just a pile of coats.

[nerves_of_ice]

He closes the door and makes sure to cover his mouth with his hand before he speaks.

"The next time I stop, it'll be to set off the explosion. You'll be able to hear it. I'll have to get out to do it. Don't move when it happens - we'll be on a public street."

He looks in the rearview mirror, just to check the surroundings. He can't see her, which is good.

"After that, the next stop will be the airport. Hold on. Here we go."

The car roars to life and the garage door lifts smoothly as they approach it. Bucky pulls out and away.

[from_the_outside]

"Okay," she says, barely on a breath, and closes her eyes as the engine turns over and the car begins to move.

This is it.

[nerves_of_ice]

He winds through the city streets as carefully as he can, driving with care not only for Sharon's comfort but also to avoid drawing any attention. He's careful not to glance at other drivers either directly or in the mirrors, knowing that if someone spots him watching them that way it'll cause alarm.

They blend into traffic as seamlessly as he used to blend into crowds on the run, and no one's around to notice or care when he pulls to a stop on the hill with its view of the city... and of the gallery.

"Hang on, baby," he breathes, and gets out of the car. Bucky walks to a clear spot with direct line of sight, activates the amplifier on his phone, and hits the icon on the tablet that will trigger the spark.

Three seconds later, the sky over Madripoor lights with murderous fury as the gas lines explode, taking the building with them.

[from_the_outside]

She counts silently to herself from the time she hears the car door close, waiting, waiting, wai –

The explosion is so bright she sees flickers of it despite the heavy coats, and something that's been festering and rotting in her for five and a half long years seems to burn away in clean, crisp, purifying fire.

She squeezes her eyes against springing tears; one escapes out of the corner of her eye and trickles down into her ear.

It's gone. He blew it sky high and she's free.

[nerves_of_ice]

He moves back to the driver's side door as other cars start pulling over and people pile out of them, pointing and staring. Bucky drops the tablet to the ground and shatters it into shards under his boot, then slides back into the car and pulls away.

"Almost there, baby," he murmurs, barely moving his lips. "You're doing great. Just another few minutes--"

[from_the_outside]

She doesn't nod, doesn't move, just squeezes her eyes shut and then blinks them into the darkness beneath the coats. "Almost," she whispers back.

Her back is killing her. She's going to be so stiff she won't be able to run if they need to. They just destroyed a multi-million dollar building and brought all of Hightown to a standstill.

She can make it a few more minutes. And then a few more after that. However many it takes to finally leave this place.

[nerves_of_ice]

It's just under ten minutes later when he pulls through the gate into the airport. He can see the plane in the open hangar at the far side, and brings the car around the back in a long, looping arc, pulling it inside the hangar and parking it out of view of the door.

Bucky scans the area before he gets out, then goes to the back seat door, pulls it open, and reaches in to help her out. "Keep the coat around you," he tells her, continuing to keep an eye out for others. "Keep your hair hidden. I'll grab the stuff from the trunk."

[from_the_outside]

She's already got the hood of her jacket up over her hair, and she nods, keeps her head down so nothing can be seen but her nose and eyes, the heavy coat obscuring her body enough that it should be impossible to tell anything useful about her height or weight.

She can't look around like this, so she sticks close to him, trusting him to catch anyone who might see. "Were we followed?" she murmurs. She's certain he would have said so if they were, wouldn't have come straight to the hangar, but her nerves are thrumming and she feels sick with stress. It helps to ask.

[nerves_of_ice]

"No sign," he promises. Bucky puts his arm around her - having draped the other coat over it, there's no sign of metal visible - and escorts her up the stairs into the plane.

He dumps the pack, bag, and painting to the side, drops from the top of the stairs to the ground, and tosses a small metal globe through the window into the car. When it activates, blue electric sparks crackle over the vehicle's body, shorting out all systems and wiping them of any tracking history or other identifying information.

Bucky flips the brake switches on the staircase, climbs it with more care than before, then braces himself in the door of the plane and kicks it hard so that it rolls across the hangar, clearing the path.

"Strap in," he tells her, already heading for the cockpit. "We'll be in the air as fast as I can get us there."

[from_the_outside]

She keeps the hood down even as she straps in, wary of anyone being able to see her through the plane windows, and grips the arms of the seat with bloodless fingers, her stomach in knots.

They're so close. This is when something terrible is most likely to happen, when they're so close she can almost taste it. She's dizzy with adrenaline flooding through her system with nowhere to go, nothing to fuel except the anxiety spiraling through her head, corkscrewing into her gut.

He closes the door to the cockpit, and she's alone. Fear grips her heart with cold fingers, but she swallows past it – this isn't her nightmare. This is real.

He's not setting her up. He would never. He's taking her home.

[nerves_of_ice]

He switches on the cockpit systems and flips the radio to monitor local traffic while he checks the gauges to ensure everything's as it should be. Everything inside him is screaming at him to go now, now, now, but he knows that if he doesn't do it all by the book he'll draw the wrong kind of attention. He can't afford a single mistake. Not now.

Bucky switches on the mike and says, "Madripoor Tower, this is Hawker 800 Hotel Zulu, holding at hangar 5 and requesting taxi clearance for immediate departure." He's barely aware that his breath has stopped in his throat as he listens to the crackle of static.

Hotel Zulu, you are clear to proceed to runway 2.

"Copy that, Tower, Hotel Zulu proceeding to runway 2." The engines roar as he starts them moving across the tarmac.

[from_the_outside]

She's barely breathing and her fingers are white as bone where she's gripping the armrests as the engines roar and the jet begins taxiing slowly over the tarmac.

No black cars come racing out of the darkness. No airport security runs out to stop them. Her heart thunders in her ears as she risks a glance out the window, but the muggy Madripoor night is quiet.

Here, at least. The skyline is still smoldering from the wreckage of the gallery.