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“Mercury vapor. Nagel.”
“What?”
He’s counting with his fingers, the black color of his metal hand casting a darker shade in the dim light. Bucky hunches over, as she lays there taking deep breaths, each one more painful than the last.
“Teleportation.”
There's a smugness to his voice, and curiosity.
She rolls her eyes. At the rate she’s going, minutes - or maybe seconds before passing out - it’s an art.
“Trying to keep you awake.”
They were in the middle of an argument where to go to treat her wound - of course - when a medic from the scene approached. There was an ambulance waiting on the other side.
“Sergeant Barnes.”
The medic didn’t appear like he knew who Sharon was, or that she was on the run and should have no reasons to be there, much more bleeding on the sidewalk. Her brain fired up for the many ways they could walk it out. But officer was expectant, giving an eyeful on her wound.
“Uh, a civilian,” Bucky had offered. She was leaning into him and he had her hands on her for support. He punctuated the statement with a stare that didn’t invite further questions, although the medic gave them a look that said they were standing too close to each other for her to be a mere civilian that got caught in the crossfire. The stare lingered on. Therefore, none were asked.
Now cramped in the space of the ambulance, one of them almost out of it, neither has an idea how long they could keep up with the lie.
“It should help.” He tries not to tinker with the first aid she was given. He has half the mind to reach for her hand that’s pressing the wound. "Supposedly.”
“You want me to say something.”
“If there’s something to be said.”
Sharon exhales another deep breath.
“There’s... nothing.”
“Okay.”
She thinks he doesn’t really believe her - at the way his eyes holds her gaze. At any other given time, she'd argue and dispel his questioning. But she feels herself almost slip into unconsciousness, so she reaches out to him in reflex. Bucky inches closer to her.
“What if they find me out?”
This time, he pretends to check out the medical equipment just to make sure they are out of earshot.
“I could just deck them. Make a run for it after.”
“Bucky.”
He offers her a thin smile. She feels rather than sees his flesh hand rest on top of hers, the pressure on the wound a welcome.
Friends. Sam and Bucky are her friends. Friends who got her back. One of them sharing her suffering, almost crouching at the back of an ambulance. Bile rises up to her throat at the barrage of thoughts in her mind - how they got in here. More questions, with no answers.
“We should have never crossed paths again.”
It comes out as a whisper, maybe the delirium’s taking over and she’s not sure if he heard. She wants it to be heard, so badly, as bad as she wants to say a thousand apologies for bringing them into her hell.
She barely makes the words.
“I’m gonna pass out.”
But he’s definitely heard her this time, his gentle voice the last thing she remembers before everything fades to black.
“I got you.”
She wakes up sometime in the middle of dawn.
Sharon would have fallen off the bed at the sight of another person looking at her from across the room. The paranoia is a reflex. She tries to reach out for her gun, until she realizes where she is and who he is - the trademark stare giving it away even in the dark. Does he ever sleep?
“You stayed.”
“Got nowhere else to go.”
He shrugs.
By nowhere else he means he’s trading the confines of her hospital room for his nightmares and the cold floor of his apartment. Not necessarily better but he’s not gonna tell her that. If she takes note of the meaning behind his words, she lets it pass - the exhaustion of what happened catching up to them.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“You’re welcome.”
He moves to stand up closer to her bed. “How are you feeling?”
She closes her eyes a bit, not yet fully adjusted to the light. “Like... I was shot.”
He scoffs.
“Can you help me up?”
In the brief time since they reunited, quote unquote, she can’t help but notice the many ways Bucky Barnes has been gentle with her. He lifts her up, tells her to take it easy as she finds a comfortable position to lay on the bed half upright. The way he treats her is a sharp contrast to his off-hand remarks which often bore a snark that can come off as annoying - that could mean he is somewhat annoyed at her. Sharon retorts with the same intensity, true, but his actions tell a different story as to what he truly thinks of her (not awful), every time. And when he does that, she finds herself yielding.
“Sam’s on his way. Got some news for your...status. Better coming from him than me.”
Bucky takes the seat by her bed. She relaxes into the silence. It’s a brand new day.
When she wakes up again, she sees Sam talking to Bucky by the door. He takes notice at once, his steps hurrying to help her find a less straining position on her bed.
“Easy.” He offers her a smile and her mood brightens up. “Hey.”
“Hey, Sam.” She smiles in return, weak but sincere.
“You good?”
“Better than the last time we spoke, sure.”
He pats her on the back and there's a certain lightness to his touch. She eyes the bag on his arms.
“Is that...?”
The smell of breakfast hits her full force, and she’s not about to shy away from telling them and the whole world that she’s famished. How long was she out - two, three days? Bucky shakes his head at the look on her face.
“Let me prep that for you.”
Sam beams at both of his friends. “See, he can be nice when he wants to be.”
She has to smile to that, much to Bucky's annoyance. Sharon knows that too well.
“I did keep my promise,” Sam says, interrupting her thoughts. “The courts are ready for you anytime.”
Her chest tightens. Home.
“Thank you...thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Sam argues, taking a seat by the foot of her bed. His eyes hold a deep sincerity that Sharon - knowing everything they don’t - finds herself looking away from. She shakes off the guilt. “For everything you’ve done.”
She takes a minute to respond and waves her hand in dismissal.
“That’s what friends are for, right?”
He nods and smiles at her, but her eyes bears a sadness to them. Sam interprets it as exhaustion.
“Listen. As your friend,” he remarks, emphasizing on the word friend. “I would have wanted to invite you to Louisiana, but...,” he gestures at her current state of tubes and bandages.
Sharon shakes her head. “You’ve already done enough for me.”
“Maybe I need to pull a few more strings.”
She understands what that means as he gives her a wink. It had been another thing on the list of things to worry about - the lie - and she and Bucky had not yet had the chance to talk about it. That makes her all the more grateful for Sam. It’s nice to have friends in the high places, namely a flying Captain America.
Sam headed towards the door. “Buck?”
She’s never been to Louisiana before, and she would have loved to visit - really loved - although she’s not sure why she realizes that at the same moment it dawns on her that Bucky will be coming along with.
“Do you want me to stay?”
He looks at her, unsure and the question surprises her. Her heart swells at the offer because yes, Bucky Barnes is so annoyingly nice when he wants to be. So awfully kind - that kind of kindness that throws her off.
“Go, please. Haven’t you had enough of me?”
He makes a face.
“She’s back, she’s really back,” he mutters to Sam, and the latter’s easy laugh spins the atmosphere of the room to a much more homey one.
Sharon rolls her eyes, the smile never leaving off her face. She hasn't felt this good in a really long while.
“I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Here.”
She doesn’t have to look to know it’s an address and a number. Probably his.
“Just in case.”
She nods. Her life has already been a tailspin since stepping out of Madripoor, and she lists Bucky among the things she has yet to figure out at the back of her mind. His kindness, his friendship and now, the way he does his own “covering of tracks”. They are reading between the lines, and they are surviving. It was just one of those things that worked between them. Must be a spy thing.
“How long until you’re back?”
“A day. Maybe two.”
“Hope I’ve figured out something by then.”
He gives her a look that says they both know that's a lie, yet it is an attempt to try anyway. Get out of here first, then pardon then come what may.
“Thank you. Again.”
“Got a long list of amends when it comes to you, Sharon.” He looks down, as if in shame. She feels a jolt when he touches her hand, a pang of regret washing over her when it’s gone way too soon.
“It’s nothing.”
He bolts out the door and nods at her one last time.
Get out of here first, as a civilian. Maybe Sam has given her a fake name. Then pardon, then... she’ll find her way home. Wherever home ends up to be. But until then, she’s got a lifeline in the form of a piece from a crumpled paper bag. She takes a look.
Her hope comes in scrawly handwriting. It contains an address and a number from someone named Bestfriend Bucky.
She’s unsure, but she knocks anyway. When he sees her, there’s a noticeable shock on his handsome face, mixed with relief. He sports a few days old of scruff, and Sharon is... very glad to see him.
“You came.”
“Were you expecting me?”
He opens the door for her to enter. “I did offer....”
Her footsteps are light, surveying the surroundings like muscle memory. She takes a note of his space and the visible lack of things a normal person would consider home essentials.
“Convinced myself at least to get a bed.”
She can work with it.
“I don’t plan to stay long. Just...,” she trails off and offers an even vaguer response. “Sometime.”
He inclines his head, finding it in himself that he doesn't mind a bit. “Dinner?”
The dinner offer comprises of what looks like nearby Chinese takeout, enough servings at least for two or three. It’s no question he can consume the entire thing and she feels a bit of shame that he has to share - both his dinner and his space to her. But her hunger is taking over. It had been a long day that turned out longer when she found out she couldn’t get to the estate her grandfather had left her right away, and definitely not today. Some paperwork that made her end up in her doorstep. Bucky observes her, all this mental recall she's doing while she stares at an open carton of hot noodles. He mistakes her silence as some sort of disappointment, perhaps at the unappealing dinner he had the gall to offer.
His voice sounds tentative when he asks. “Welcome home?”
Sharon snaps out of it and takes a bowl for herself, to which Bucky breathes a small sigh of relief for (he’s not sure why). It’s way much easier when they are throwing barbs at each other left and right. If she’s staying for the night, they need to work on it. Start with something.
“Thanks.” She takes notice of his newly set up home entertainment. “Lord of the Rings.”
“Read them the first time they came out in 1954.”
She nods to that, invites herself to a space far enough from him when they settle back into the couch (this is new too).
There’s a guilt eating at her for staying close. The distance between them is comfortable, but if she allows the guilt to take over, it will choke her up. That guilt is so big enough that for tonight - for the love of God please, even just for tonight, she’s begging, she’s pleading that she could forget.
From her side, Bucky regards her with a hint of worry in his face. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
It's a lie, but she basks in it.
They should have never crossed paths again. She doesn’t want to hurt them. She never would want to. Sharon returns his gaze, and for the first time since she went through this dark path years ago - the pain, the regret coming to her like waves- she questions her reasons.
There will be no answer forthcoming. Not tonight. And she finds herself grateful, if only for today, her ghosts don’t come knocking.
So, she focuses on the plot. She hasn’t seen any of the movies - her friends way back had raved about it, some time back before her world had turned upside down. Now, all of those are just vague memories. She tunes out the thought of Sam and the look of hurt in his face when he finds out. And Bucky. Will he still be as gentle?
Her friends. No matter where the path leads from now, this she promises to herself - the plans have changed, but this resolve to protect them and be by their side remains.
The rest she can figure out later.
fin.