[oom] the world a cage

[from_the_outside]

This was a bad idea.

She knows it as soon as she steps outside into the cool Brooklyn evening and Bucky locks the door behind them. Her pulse kicks up in her chest the second the lock clicks and she'd give almost anything to tell him she's changed her mind, that she's not going. To slip back inside the apartment and find a safe corner to breathe until this tight spiraling anxiety in her chest loosens.

Instead, she tugs her hood up over her hair and down over her eyes, hating how familiar it is. The hood. The dark clothes. The way every part of her goes on high alert. She hasn't been outside for a full minute and she's already exhausted.

It only gets worse as they go further from the apartment. Brooklyn isn't Madripoor, there are no shadows here where she can hide, no getaway routes she knows like the back of her hand. It's only having Bucky next to her that keeps her from fading back into the darkness and making a run for it, and by the time they get to the meeting spot – a bench along the river in Brooklyn Bridge Park – every nerve is stretched to its limit.

Next time, she's telling Fury just to meet them on a rooftop somewhere.

Comments

[from_the_outside]

That faint curve at the corner of her mouth ticks up another notch.

"Probably would have drawn a little too much attention," she agrees. "And I'm not sure it would have helped."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Probably not," he agrees, and takes a drink.

[from_the_outside]

She huffs a wry breath and turns her own bottle around in her fingers.

"Think he'll come through?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“Yes.”

Simple and steady.

“I do.”

[from_the_outside]

"Because you actually might shoot him if he doesn't?" she hazards, teasing lightly.

[nerves_of_ice]

“I think he’s pretty clear on that point too,” he drawls.

[from_the_outside]

Her smile flickers into life for a second, before she takes another sip of her beer.

"I don't trust him," she says. "But I trust your read on the situation."

And it's not as though she has much choice, is it?

[nerves_of_ice]

“I know,” he murmurs. “Give it time?”

[from_the_outside]

"Time is something I have plenty of," she says, wry, and tips her head into her hand to watch him.

"You've got so much on your plate, baby. I don't want you to feel like you need to stay here with me if there are things you want to go out and do."

[nerves_of_ice]

“There’s nowhere else I need to be yet,” Bucky tells her. “I need to work on making myself accountable to the people I hurt, yes, but there’s time.”

He leans forward and tugs at a lock of her hair.

“You’re important, too.”

[from_the_outside]

The old familiar gesture tugs a smile into one corner of her mouth, and she lets her head fall towards that light pull. "Hopefully Fury will come through before Karli makes whatever move she's planning," she says.

"I don't like how quiet she's been. It doesn't bode well."

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods. “Sam’s been working with Torres to track reports from her followers. So far, nothing concentrated. She’s still lying low for now, looks like, but I doubt it’ll last.”

[from_the_outside]

"It won't," Sharon says, with certainty. "It can only mean she's up to something big."

She sighs, toying with her bottle of beer. "What can we do about her, Bucky? Maybe if I could talk to her, get her to listen somehow..."

But she shakes her head at herself. "Even then, what could I possibly say?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“Will she be likely to listen to you?” He reaches out to take her hand. “It’s worth trying.”

[from_the_outside]

"Not to me."

There's absolute certainty dulling her voice. "But to the me she knows? Maybe."

She hesitates, squeezes his hand. "She might be willing to go back to Madripoor."

[nerves_of_ice]

His grip on her hand tightens.

“She might. You’re not.”

[from_the_outside]

She never wants to see that godforsaken place again. Never. Never. But how often do any of them get what they want, really?

"It's an angle I might be able to use, anyway," she says. "To get her to come and listen."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Sharon. Promise me.” He has to consciously keep from squeezing her hand tight enough to hurt. “You’re not going back there. You’re not.”

[from_the_outside]

She wishes she didn't have to actually think about it, her fingers as tight in his now as they had been in those awful nights back in Hightown, when holding onto him seemed like the only thing that could keep her from drowning.

"I won't go back there," she says, finally, and meets his steady gaze with her own darkened, troubled one even as she attempts a humorless smile. "I could hardly show my face there now without blowing everything, anyway."

But it's not enough; not with how he's watching her, not with how his fingers are tight on hers. She pushes forward until her knee nudges his leg, until she's close enough to set her forehead against his. "I promise," she murmurs.

"I could never go back. Not with everything you had to do to get me out."

[nerves_of_ice]

He sets his beer bottle aside without looking and puts his other arm around her, drawing her in and holding her tight before he kisses her. There’s both relief and desperation in the way he holds her.

[from_the_outside]

She puts her arms around his shoulders and holds on tight; kisses him back before she presses her face into his hair.

"I'm not goin anywhere," she promises, warm. "Never back there. Never. I don't ever want to leave you again."

[nerves_of_ice]

A shudder runs through him and he pulls her closer still, burying his face in her shoulder.

[from_the_outside]

It's like trying to fight off possession, coming back to herself. It's still only been, what, two weeks since Bucky first arrived in Madripoor?

(She thinks about having to go back there and shudders hard, shakes the image out of her head. Never. Never again.)

"I promise," she says, though whether she's promising him or herself is a question she can't answer. "I'm staying here with you. This is home."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Home,” he repeats, and kisses her. Between kisses, he tells her, “You’re home. With me. Stay, angel. Please.”

[from_the_outside]

"Yes," she says, instant. She doesn't need to think about this; it's carved into her bones. "Yes. Yes."

She puts her own bottle aside and slides up into his lap, straddling his hips so she can press herself as close to him as possible, and kisses him back. "I'm staying here with you."

It's a little while before the first flush of desperation drains out of her, but she kisses him again, a little more softly. This time when she smiles it's small but warm and real.

"I mean, we did just get this couch..."