Archive of Our Own ^beta

“How is he?” You asked. 

“He’s in serious condition but the doctors are doing everything they can.” Your heart stopped. The man you devoted so many years of your life to and the father of your children. You cleared your throat. 

“Can I come and see him?” You asked. 

“Yes, you can. I’ll let security know.” 

*

You were thankful your neighbor, Wanda, and her husband, Vision, were able to watch the girls. Their twins were the same age as your eldest, Rebecca, and Wanda loved Taylor. The girls asked a thousand and one questions but you assured them that everything was okay even though you weren’t sure if that was the truth. You kept your emotions at bay as you drove to the hospital. You had to be strong for your girls, for Bucky, and yourself. You and Bucky met through a mutual friend, Natasha. You went to college with her and she and Bucky knew each other when they were kids. Natasha invited Steve and Bucky to go out with you during your freshman year. A drunken one-night stand turned into a coffee date the next morning then 4 years of dating. He proposed the day after you graduated college. Life was good. You gave birth to two beautiful girls and were doing well in your respective careers; you as a lawyer and Bucky was working as a contractor at Steve’s construction company. Then something changed. He became distant. He was there for the girls but he began sleeping in the guest room. He worked late and was away for many weekends. Finally, you confronted him and he asked for some time apart. He moved out and then asked for a divorce. You were completely blindsided by it and it hurt because you were still in love with the man. 

*

A nurse brought you into his room. The sight took your breath away as you stared at Bucky. He was barely recognizable with machines attached to him, gauze keeping him together, and a tube down his throat. You were pretty sure a doctor came in to tell you the extent of Bucky’s injuries but their words weren’t registering with you. “Y/n,” you heard Natasha’s voice. You looked toward your friend. The doctors were gone and it was just you, Bucky, and her. She was wearing what she typically wore to work with her badge on her hip. 

“Nat, what-? How-?” Your brain was short-circuiting. 

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” she led you out of Bucky’s room. You noticed an officer standing by Bucky’s door. Your friend led you to a conference room and you saw her partner, Maria. Steve called her Natasha’s work wife. You’ve met her a few times. 

“Natasha, what is going on?” You asked, sitting down. A cup of coffee was already in front of you. Natasha sat down next to Maria. 

“We don’t think Bucky’s crash was an accident,” Natasha said. You were stunned into silence. 

“We found another set of tire tracks at the scene and in our initial investigation we found another paint color on the back of Bucky’s car,” Maria added. You leaned back in your chair and covered your face with your hands. The room was quiet, too quiet. 

“Are you telling me someone tried to kill Bucky?” You finally asked, looking at Natasha. She nodded. 

“It appears so,” she said. “Bucky had no alcohol or drugs in his system.” That was no surprise, Bucky was straight as an arrow when it came to not drinking and driving. 

“Who the hell would try to kill him? Everyone loved him,” he was a little grumpy and as Sam said he had a ‘resting bitch face’ but he was a teddy bear. 

“Have you noticed anything strange?” Maria asked. You glared at her. 

“The man divorced me after being together for almost 10 years for no reason. Does that classify as strange?” You deadpanned, taking a sip of your coffee. You sighed. “Sorry. Before we got separated he was distant towards me but not the girls.” 

“Was there trouble at work that Steve didn’t know about?” Natasha asked. 

“I don’t know,” you told them. 

“Could someone from the law firm be angry enough with you to go after him?” It was possible. You’ve worked some major cases over your career and your relationship with Bucky was public knowledge. You’ve tried to keep your kids out of the spotlight. You’ve gotten your fair share of death threats from family members and criminals. 

“Maybe. I can have my assistant send you a list of people we’ve gotten threats from.” 

“Thank you. For now, I’m going to assign an officer to you and your kids. Are the girls at Wanda’s?” You nodded. “Okay, I’ll have Coulson go over there.”

“Thank you, Nat.” 

“Don’t thank me for just doing my job,” You said your goodbyes and headed back to Bucky’s room. You sent a text to Wanda explaining the situation and asked your assistant to send the information to Natasha and her team. You sighed, placed your phone in your pocket, and stood next to Bucky. You cupped his face gently in your hands and kissed his cheek. 

“Don’t leave me, sergeant,” you whispered. “That’s an order.” 

*

6 months later       

Bucky’s condition improved but he was still in a coma. The doctors were hopeful that he would wake up on his own as he had high brain activity. You brought the girls to see their father and explained the situation to them in a way they’d understand. You told Bucky’s family as well. It was nice talking to his mother and sister again. You split your time at your office, the hospital, and at home. You were exhausted. 

You were at the hospital working on a case when a knock on his door made you jump. You closed your laptop and looked at the door. It was Natasha, with a messenger bag over her shoulder. You saw the redhead almost every day. She was making sure you were taking care of yourself. “Hey Tash,” you said. “Are you here for work or pleasure?” 

“Work, unfortunately.” You gave her your full attention. You didn’t ask about the ongoing investigation. You didn’t have the brain capacity to focus on it and you trusted Natasha to get the job down. She sat down in the empty chair next to you. “Does the name Brock Rumlow sound familiar to you?” She asked. You nodded. 

“He was close friends with Alexander Pierce.” You put Pierce behind bars for conspiracy to commit murder when there was an attempt on Natasha’s boss’ life. You wanted to put Rumlow away too but there wasn’t enough evidence. 

“Did you also know he and Bucky knew each other?” She asked. You didn’t hide the shock on your face. “They knew each other back when Bucky served.” He didn’t talk about his time over there. But you knew it still affected him as nightmares kept him up. “Once Bucky was discharged due to him losing his arm, the two stopped talking.”

“What does this have to do with the car accident?” You asked. Natasha pulled out a folder from her bag and set a picture down in front of you. It was of Bucky and Rumlow, dated right before Bucky asked for a divorce. 

“Oh Buck,” you whispered. “What did you get yourself into?”

“They were meeting for a while.” She took the picture back into the file. “When you put Pierce away Rumlow lost it and went off the grid, the only time we resurfaced was to make contact with Bucky,” Natasha explained. 

“What did he want?” You weren’t sure if Natasha was going to tell you. 

“He wanted Bucky to help him break Pierce out of jail,” your stomach dropped. “He had some dirt on Bucky back when they served together and he threatened to release it. He also was following you and the girls,” she took out a few pictures of you and the girls at the park, grocery store, and the library. You rubbed your head. 

“How-how do you know all of this?” You asked. She pulled out an evidence bag. Inside were Bucky’s dog tags and his cell phone. 

“Bucky recorded every interaction. It took a while for the forensic team to pull the file off his phone.” She smiled at you. “He refused to help Rumlow and Rumlow caused the crash. The paint on Bucky’s car matched the car Rumlow has.” 

“What?” You said, speechless. “Why are you sitting here and not arresting the jackass?” She punched you in the arm. “Ouch!”

“Maria and Phil are handling the arrest. I thought you wanted to know the whole story before the press took hold of it.” The press was watching this case like a hawk. 

“Thank you. I won’t be able to play you back for everything you did.” She was working overtime on this case. 

“You and Bucky are family. Now you can focus on healing,” she stood up to leave. You walked over to the door and hugged her. “One more thing.” She said, facing you. “Bucky tried to call you the night of the crash. But he couldn’t get through to you. He recorded a voice memo.” 

“Did you listen to it?” You asked, already knowing the answer. She nodded. 

“Maria and I were the only ones that listened to it. I sent it to your email.” You nodded. “Listen to it when you are ready.” She gave you one last hug before leaving you. The machines that were attached to Bucky seemed louder than normal. Maybe they were trying to be heard over your pounding heart. You took your cell phone and headphones from your bag and walked over to the window. You plugged your headphones in and found the email Natasha sent you. She said to listen to it when you were ready. You weren’t sure if you ever would be ready. You put your headphones in and hit play as you stared at Bucky’s still form. 

It was silent besides the grunt or moan of pain. “Sugar, doll,” you felt your eyes burn with unshed tears. It’s been so long since he’s called you those pet names. “Fuck baby I messed up.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “I just wanted to keep you and the girls safe, you know?” He groaned. “I did some bad stuff overseas. Stuff I wasn’t ready to tell you. I thought I could handle Rumlow myself. So I distanced myself from.” He went quiet. “I thought if we weren’t seen together he couldn’t use you. I’m a fucking idiot.” 

“Yes you are Bucky Barnes,” you whispered, wiping the tears away that fell. 

“I miss you so much, baby girl. I don’t want to die without telling you how sorry I am,” you stood up and looked at Bucky. You ran over to him. 

“You aren’t going to die Barnes.” You said, cupping his face in your hands. Your tears fell onto his skin. 

“I love you. You and the girls are my worlds,” his voice continued. “Tell them that, will you?”

“Tell them yourself Bucky,” you whispered. “Tell them when you wake up.” It was becoming harder to make out his face because of how hard you were crying. “Please baby, you have to wake up.” 

“You made me a better man, doll.” His voice was becoming strained and hoarse. “Meeting you was when my life started. I love you.” The voice memo ended. You rested your head on his chest, mindful of his injuries, and cried. You haven’t cried through this whole ordeal. You let yourself cry and cry and cry. 

*

3 months later 

Bucky woke up a month after Rumlow’s arrest and when he was released from the hospital he moved back in with you and the girls. They were ecstatic to have their father back with them as he healed and recovered. But you and Bucky were walking on eggshells around each other, uncertain of how to act with one another. Sometimes he would act as he did before the accident, before the divorce and the separation. Then other times he would pull away. He doesn’t remember much from that night, especially the phone call he made. 

You had enough. For 2 months, you were at your breaking point. You sent the girls with your parents, you cooked his favorite food and dessert. The smell brought him out of the room. His hair was wet from a shower. “Do you need help?” He asked. You shook your head. 

“Can you set the table?” He nodded, grabbing two sets of plates and silverware. You were sipping on wine already. Once the food was done, you ate in silence. You watched him eat, slowly sipping on your wine. 

“You're starring,” he said. 

“I am,” he whipped his face with a napkin. 

“Can I ask what all this is for?” 

“After dinner.” He washed the dishes. It was the rule when you were together whoever cooked didn’t have to do the dishes. You pulled out the cheesecake and cut two slices. You handed him a plate. 

“It’s after dinner,” you nodded, taking a bite of your cheesecake. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked. He finished the cake and placed the dirty dish in the sink for later. 

“You are going to have to be more specific,” he said, walking over to the couch. 

“Rumlow. The fact that you knew him while I was working on the Pierce case,” he didn’t say anything as he sat down. You walked over to him and he was opening and closing his metal hand. “Or that he asked you to commit a crime and used me and the girls as leverage.” He still didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even looking at you. “We were a team, Bucky. Why didn’t you tell me?” He sighed. 

“Because I didn’t want you or the girls to find out that I’m a monster.” 

“What?” You questioned, sitting down next to you. 

“I was tasked with black op missions overseas. They nicknamed me the Winter Soldier. I did so many horrible things for this country,” he explained. “Rumlow was on a few of those missions. I wasn’t ready to tell you.” You looked forward, staring into the fireplace. 

“I know the man I married and fell in love with,” you said finally. “That man is not a monster.” 

“Doll-” he said.

“No,” you cut him off and knelt in front of him. “You are not a monster. I’m upset that you didn’t tell me but I understand.” He smiled. “You tried to call me the night of the accident but it wouldn’t go through so you left me a voice memo. Do you remember what you said?” He shook his head. 

“I vaguely remember it.” 

“You told me you loved me,” your voice cracked. “That you missed me and that you were sorry.” You smiled. “You told me that the girls and I are your worlds and that I made you a better man.” He nodded. 

“It’s the truth.” He whispered. 

“I was so scared Buck,” you admitted. “What if the accident happened on a different day? On a bridge where there wasn’t a railing in the way. Or a neighborhood street where the little kids play?” You felt the tears running down your cheeks. “What if you weren’t alone and the girls were in the car? What if you were remote and no one knew where you were? If you changed anything, would you have not survived?” 

“I’m alive,” Bucky said. 

“You're alive.” You repeated. “You’re alive.” He pulled you onto his lap and hugged you. He hugged you tight as you cried against him. You felt his tears on your skin. You ended the hug and put your forehead against his, staring into his blue eyes. A color you didn’t think you would see again. “You’re alive.”

“I’m alive.” He said against your lips. You connected them. The kiss was slow and salty from your tears but it was perfect. You were so scared that you’d never hear his voice again, kiss his lips, or feel his hands on you. He pulled away. “Thank you.” You smiled. 

“You said it on the phone, you're an idiot,” he laughed. 

“But I’m your idiot.” You nodded. 

“Yeah, you are.”