Chapter Text
W/BARNES
You were late.
That’s the only thing going through Bucky’s mind as he sits inside the garden’s veranda, his eyes fixated on the vibranium chess pieces splayed out before him.
Steve sits in the opposing chair, evidently more relaxed compared to Bucky–who was a mess of thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t that Bucky was particularly worried or irritated by your lack of punctuality–he just wanted to get everything over and done with; unfortunately, that couldn’t happen if you weren’t here.
He would be lying if his opinion on you hadn’t lifted somewhat after that stunt you pulled on his arm the day prior. It was small, incremental, but he kept thinking about it. About the feeling of your hands—how it hovered dangerously close to relief.
For some reason, neither he nor Steve were allowed to enter the medbay that morning and were directed into the citadel gardens to wait. Not that he was complaining, Bucky hated sitting inside the exam room, waiting to be poked, prodded and questioned. He’d already had a centuries worth of experience with that kind of stuff. The gardens were a nice change of pace. But that was all that they were, a change of scenery; not a change of mind.
“You’re overthinking again.” Steve murmurs, his arms coming to cross over his chest.
Bucky scoffs, turning his gaze away, “Not overthinking, I’m just wondering what’s taking her so damn long.”
Steve’s response comes out in a chuckle, his head slightly shaking from side to side, “You’re worried?”
“Try sick and tired–” Bucky’s head tilts towards the veranda’s entrance when he hears a pair of approaching footsteps. He was unbothered by the possibility of it being you, yet he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed when it turns out to be someone else entirely. It’s another doctor who stands in your place, accompanied by a member of the Dora Milaje.
Steve sits up a little straighter, brows knitting together with confusion.
“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers…” the woman greets politely with a bow of her head, “I’m doctor Mekonnen, I will be handling your evaluation for today.”
“What happened to Doctor Novaris?” Steve asks before Bucky could even think to get the words out.
Dr. Mekonnen hesitates. She glances at the Dora beside her, who remains to be a picture of calm and collected. Wetting her lips and clearing her throat, Dr. Mekonnen continues, “Doctor Novaris had a few important matters to attend to and will be unavailable for the rest of the day. But I assure you that this is only temporary.”
A short silence falls over the veranda, filled only by the gentle ring of the wind chimes swaying in the breeze. Steve looks to Bucky, gauging his reaction.
Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw ticks, eyes subtly narrowing. Then he shrugs, his shoulders stiff, tight.
With that, Steve stands to his feet, lingering for a few seconds longer. His hand briefly touches against Bucky’s shoulder. “Be nice,” he murmurs before excusing himself.
༻❁༺
W/NOVARIS
You’re in the cold again. Scared and alone. Shaking.
This was a scene you remembered all too well, you didn’t need to have your eyes open to recall what happens here. The snow, the wind–your bare feet cut raw from the ice. The winds howl against your ears, causing you to wince involuntarily as the cold slaps harshly across your skin. It wasn’t real, you knew that–yet it always felt so tangible.
The wreckage groans around you like a voice half-swallowed by the wind, the sound shaping itself to the sound of your name–welcoming you home.
As you approach what was left of the village square, you stop yourself short. You brace yourself to see the Winter soldier–but he isn’t here.
Instead, James stands in his place.
No rifle. No mask. No arm. Just a man–tired, grieving, guilty.
You swallow thickly, feeling colder than ever; watching him closely as his figure steps closer. You’re quick to mirror his movements by taking a step back, the snow crunching loudly beneath your feet. Your movements prompt him to pause, his features falling ever so slightly. He opens his mouth to speak, uttering softly, “I’m sorry.”
The sky roars to life with thunder and lightning, the ground beneath your feet beginning to shake as his apology repeats like a mantra between your ears. You’re quick to cover them, your knees buckling as you're overwhelmed with a symphony of sorrys.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
“Stop it!” you scream, “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
༻❁༺
“Stop!”
You jolt upright, colliding into someone’s arms before your mind could catch up. Instinct takes over–your body thrashing all on its own, fighting to breathe, to survive.
You only stop when the sound of your name cuts through the noise. Accents of sweet jasmine and grounded myrrh filling your senses, indicating that you weren’t alone here with a stranger.
“You’re alright–” Minine soothes, her fingers brushing away the damp strands of hair that stick stubbornly to your forehead, “-you’re OK.” Your eyes flutter slightly, your hands coming to grasp weakly against her arm as if needing something to hold onto, something real. As you cling to her, your eyes rove over your surroundings. White cabinets, cream coloured walls, large windows.
The medbay. Your stomach sinks.
“What…?” You push yourself away, your brows knitting together, “what happened?” your eyes land on the IV sticking out of your arm. You yank it out with a subtle wince. You’re about to stand, but Minine is quick to pull you back. Her touch is firm. Her eyes, sharper now.
“I found you in the studio…” she says. Her voice was soft, but it carries the weight of something cracked. “Tell me that it was an accident, that you forgot to open a window…” she briefly hesitates, “ and look me in the eye when you do.”
You hesitantly lift your gaze, moving your hands so that they’re holding Minine’s upper arms. She looked like she had been crying, with her eyes all puffy and red, stubborn stray coils of hair sticking out from her bun. No one made Minine worry like you did, that was for sure. “It was an accident,” you say softly, “ I forgot to open a window… I’m sorry.”
Minine sniffles, her head bobbing slightly as she listens to your words. “It’s ok…” she breathes, swiping the sides of her palms beneath her eyes in order to ward away any oncoming water works, “but… for my own peace of mind, I’ve asked T’Challa to put you under watch–”
“What? Mi! Are you–”
Minine holds up her hand to stop you from talking, loose tears beginning to fall despite the steel firmness in her voice. “I’m not taking any chances with you,” she says, lowering her hand, “until I can be more than sure that you can take care of yourself properly… I have extended your stay in the citadel for a few more months. I will be with you outside of work and a guard will be with you during work… as well as standing post outside your room while you sleep.”
You fall back into the bed with a groan, your eyes held to the ceiling. It’s like your progress over the past few years had slipped from your fingers like sand–pushing you back down to square one. You’d be old, angry and gray before you could be trusted to live on your own again.
If you weren’t in charge of rehabilitating the Winter soldier, you’d be back in rehab yourself before you could even open your mouth to argue; not that arguing had helped your case in the past anyway. “Ok…” you murmur, not even trying to hide your dejection as your gaze moves towards the window. You’re not surprised to see that it’s dark out. You’re even less surprised about missing James’ evaluation. At least one good thing came from this shit-show of a day.
-
When you return to your room that night, it’s under the watchful eyes of Minine. A few citadel guards had been stationed in the guest halls; more so than you expected–about six of them to be exact. You don’t care enough to question it, simply content that this time, they would be outside your bedroom rather than inside. You’d have at least some semblance of privacy at least.
When Minine bids you goodnight, you can only manage a dismissive wave; immediately regretting shutting the door in her face. She’s worrying herself sick over you–and you couldn’t even say thank you without choking on your own pride.
You’re still wearing the same clothes from this morning, your hair slightly damp with sweat and grease. Your mind begged for you to collapse into bed. Instead, your feet carry you into the bathroom.
An hour goes by in slow, mechanical motions. Shower. Face. Moisturizer. Singlet. Shorts. You feel almost human after it all, cleaner than you deserve. It makes you feel a little less like shit when you start rummaging through your drawers in search of a stray cigarette. Ramonda may have taken your stash, but you do recall that you had at least one more box. You practically hear the singing of angels when it turns out to be true–the only downside, there were only two left, but hey, at least it came with a lighter stashed inside.
With a breath of relief, you step out onto your bedroom balcony. The warm air greets you kindly, the city landscape beaming with life. From here, you could see where the distant farmlands framed the city outskirts, the rivers bleeding across the terrain.
Slipping the cigarette between your lips, you move to light it. Your head spins with euphoria as you breathe the smoke deep into your lungs, the burn in your chest tethering you back in place. The upper half of your body leans forward against the railings, elbows pressed to the metal, eyes unfocused. God, you were savouring every little detail.
You’re halfway through your cigarette when you feel it–eyes on you. Smoke coils out through your nose as you peer towards your left.
“Now this is just getting ridiculous.” Now you knew why there were so many guards stationed outside.
Two balconies over, two rooms down–James.
You freeze. The cigarette nearly slips from your fingers.
He waves. It’s awkward, and a little sheepish.
You stare dumbly, your lips twitching slightly. Eventually, you turn away, breathing in a final puff of smoke before smooshing the rest out against the railings. You don’t meet his eyes as you retreat inside, suddenly hyper-aware of your clothes that barely covered enough skin to be considered casual.
The stub lands in the trash. You shut the balcony door quietly behind you.