[AU] there's grief of Want and grief of Cold

[from_the_outside]

She sleeps later than she had the day before – a combination of not having to get up and go to the doctor and exhaustion – and when she comes downstairs, the house is quiet but coffee is already made. After making herself a cup, she pads barefoot to the door and steps out into the crisp mountain morning.

She's unsurprised to see that Bucky is up, and to find Steve's motorcycle gone from the driveway. "Steve head out already?"

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

He’d told her he didn’t lie to her, but he hadn’t realized how hard it would be to—

—he pushes the thought back before it can lead his mind in a spiral, quickly.

“After Thessaloniki,” he says, carefully. “I thought, maybe, that you were… that you might — that —“

He stalls out there for a second and tries a different approach.

“You didn’t treat me like the asset. It bothered you when you had to pretend to. So I thought maybe you might … that I could be a person, again, with you.”

[from_the_outside]

Oh, okay.

This, she recognizes. The stops and starts, the carefully chosen words. She'd done it herself only moments ago, hadn't she? I thought we were... friends.

Thinking is for losers. She's been thinking all day, and where's it gotten her? Time to do this the Sharon Carter way. She takes the few steps she needs to come closed enough to reach for his hands, taking one in each of hers and holding them firmly. "You were right," she tells him, looking up into his face with all the fierce stubbornness so many people have tried to tell her isn't ladylike, isn't appropriate.

"I do. You can. And you are." Her hands tighten on his. "I would have loved going to the Spinnerei with you."

[nerves_of_ice]

“But I’m not,” he tells her, quietly. Even as he does, he curls his fingers around hers, both warm skin and cold metal, and holds on. “Zemo proved that. No matter what you and Steve say.”

[from_the_outside]

"No, he didn't."

Her voice is just as quiet, but intent. "Bucky, I've been around a lot of weapons. Believe me, I've never felt about any of them the way I feel about you. Because you're you. A person. One I care about."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Sharon. I c-- You--"

Dangerous, dangerous ground, he realizes, as light flashes and flares at the edge of his vision. His grip tightens slightly, even as he veers in a different direction, trying another tack.

"I thought," he starts, and is relieved when that tiny bit of distance is enough, for the moment at least. "That... before another mission. Before - before anything, I guess."

One corner of his mouth quirks up in a quick, rueful smile. "There's a glass artist there. I was going to show you their work. To ... try to explain. Both what - what I am, and what I - what maybe I ... could be. Someday."

The smile fades.

"But then, Zemo. And so."

[from_the_outside]

She thinks again that she really should have just shot Zemo and been done with it. What's one more sin on her shoulders?

His fingers tighten on hers and she lets him hold on as he stumbles through an explanation, starting and stopping in a way that's far from his cool focused competence during their missions.

God, same, though. Give her a nest of bad guys to infiltrate and neutralize over talking about her feelings any day of the week. "You could still show me," she encourages, soft.

"I bet they have a website."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, and glances around without moving, as if looking for a computer.

[from_the_outside]

Her laptop is upstairs and she is absolutely unwilling to go that far – he's as tense as an animal before flight – so she squeezes his hands and lets go to reach for her phone, instead.

She flicks open the browser and offers it to him. "Show me?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He has to assume it's secure, especially with how Natasha'd just tracked Steve through an insecure device. Sharon's a CIA agent, was a SHIELD agent; she has to have already thought of everything.

He doesn't need to look up the site. He types the address for the Spinnerei into the address bar, then clicks on the tile for the artist's shop and hands the phone over to her.

[from_the_outside]

She accepts the phone back and scrolls slowly through the artist's page, pausing now and then with her thumb on the screen as she wrestles with an internal roil of emotions.

It's not just glass art. It's art that's literally made from shattered glass, fused back together with bright metals to create something whole and scarred and beautiful. She pauses on one particular piece and taps the image until it fills her small screen: gunmetal and glass and a few bright glances of gold.

She studies it for a long few moments before looking up at him. "They're beautiful."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods. "I spent some time in Japan," Bucky tells her, still quiet. "There's a concept. Kintsugi. It's the idea that a repair - the history of damage itself - is part of a new whole. This is that, but more."

He glances at the phone, taking note of the piece she's stopped on, then back at her face.

"Something broken made new."

[from_the_outside]

Something broken made new.

She is way out of her depth here, but it's not like that's ever stopped her before. "I think I get it." What I am, he'd said. What I maybe could be.

She doesn't close the window before she puts the phone back down on the island, before she looks back up at him. "I like you," she says, bluntly. Why bother talking around it? "I like you a lot, just like you are. Even when you're driving me crazy, I like you."

None of the movies she's seen or magazines she's read have prepared her for anything like this; all she can do is bull through the way she always does and hope for the best. "I know you're putting yourself back together – pretty sure I'll like you then, too. What Zemo did, it didn't change that. Any of it. For me."

[nerves_of_ice]

He’s quiet for several seconds.

“I wish — Zemo,” he says, and stops, visibly searching for words.

“Maybe it’s better. That he caught me before. But I would have liked to take you out, that night. At least once.”

[from_the_outside]

It hits like a bullet, center mass, and she wants to argue. They couldn't possibly have missed their one chance, could they? He's still here. So is she.

She wants to rail against the resignation in his expression, but stops before she does, takes a slightly different tack. "Come on," she says, trying for a smile and mostly getting there. "I thought about you every day for a month. Trust me, it doesn't seem 'better' from where I'm standing."

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles a little at that.

“Every day, huh?”

[from_the_outside]

"Every day," she confirms. Her smile is bigger than his, and there's nothing rueful about it.

"Of course, some of those days the thoughts weren't very flattering, but –"

The crunch of tires on stone brings her back to earth like a slap; she turns too quickly and bites back a yelp of surprised pain. "Oh, come on. What now?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Stay back," he snaps, bolting past her to the door, every nerve on alert and ready to react to any threat. He plants himself to the side and darts a quick look out at an angle that won't reveal himself to a watcher - or to a sniper.

It's not Tony Stark. One look at the two people in the car pulling up and he jerks back from the door as though it's bitten him.

"Fuck." Bucky darts across the entryway and retrieves his light jacket from the hook behind the door, shrugging into it fast, pulling it down to hide his left arm. As he drags his leather glove out of a pocket and starts drawing it on over his left hand, he tells her,

"It's your parents."

There are too many pictures of them on the piano for him to be anything but certain.

[from_the_outside]

She stares at him in blank astonishment. "It's who?"

But the question answers itself when the door opens and a familiar voice calls, "Sharon? Are you here?" before Amanda Carter breezes in, carrying a quilted, patterned weekender over one arm and followed by her husband.

Sharon gapes at them. "Mom?" she says, helplessly. "Daddy? What are you doing here?"

[marvel_npc]

"We could ask you the same thing, pumpkin," Harrison tells her, chuckling as Amanda sweeps in and sets her bag on the floor before going to kiss her daughter on the cheek. Sharon gives her a slightly distracted hug and winces.

"Dr. Hammond called us," Amanda tells her, and clicks her tongue as she lifts the edge of Sharon's shirt to peer at the ugly mass of bruising on her side. "He said you showed up out of the blue with broken ribs and – oh!"

Her gaze finally lands on the tall man standing nearby. He could be a statue, he's standing so still.

Amanda nudges Sharon with an indulgent smile. "Kitten, who is your very handsome friend?"

"Oh my God," says her daughter, who sounds as though she's longing for the floor to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole. "Mom."

[nerves_of_ice]

At least he'd managed to get his arm hidden in time, he thinks, although in retrospect it might have made more sense to try to escape through the back door.

Bucky stays where he is and offers them a polite nod and a friendly smile. "Mrs. Carter," he says. "Mr. Carter. Pay me no mind. I work with Sharon, and I'm just here to lift heavy things for her while she recovers."

[marvel_npc]

Harrison walks over to offer his hand, beaming at the young man and ignoring his daughter's sputtering with the ease of long practice. "Harrison, please," he says, genially.

This fellow's got quite a grip. He peers a little more closely at the other man. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

[nerves_of_ice]

"James," he offers in return, casually. "Nice to meet you."

He doesn't let anything of the silent litany of curses in his brain show on his face as he gives an easy smile. "I hear that a lot. Guess I've just got one of those faces, you know?"

[marvel_npc]

"James," she says, smiling as she comes over to shake his hand, too. "Amanda Carter. Very nice to meet you."

From somewhere behind her, Sharon makes a small choking noise. Amanda ignores it. "You work with Sharon? Darling, how could you not have mentioned this charming young man before?"

"It never came up," Sharon mutters, and Amanda turns. "Don't mumble, dear," she says. "It's bad manners."

But the hand that smoothes a few locks of Sharon's bright hair back is gentle and her smile is fond, though it's edged with amusement when she looks back at James. "I'm so sorry," Amanda says. "She's always been a terrible patient. So moody! I hope she hasn't been giving you a hard time."

At her side, Sharon sighs.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Yes, ma'am," he replies. "Not for very long yet though - it's still a new assignment."

Hopefully that'll help give Sharon some cover.

"She's been just fine. Ribs are tough."

[marvel_npc]

"Well, so is she," Harrison says bracingly, turning to give his daughter a smile. "A very tough nut."

Her face is still painted in horrified surprise, but she gives him a faint smile back. "You said Dr. Hammond called?" she says, and Amanda nods.

"We had no idea you were even home," she says, a little chidingly, and Sharon deflates, slightly. "I was going to call," she says, and looks over at James. "I was... I mean..."

"Oh, don't worry, kitten," says Amanda, fond. "We just came to check in on you. We'll stay tonight and be out of your hair in the morning. We certainly don't want to interrupt anything."

Sharon makes a sound like something important in her gut is withering rapidly away, and Harrison takes pity on her. "Don't pay any attention to Mom," he says, wrapping her in a warm hug. She resists only for a second, then leans against him with every indication of relief. "It's such a nice surprise to see you again so soon."

"Mm." Her voice is muffled by his shirt. "You too."