Yesterday, Tomorrow, Today

When her bath grew cold and her lips began to tingle from the scratch of Bucky's beard, Rose pulled the drain plug and climbed out of the tub. Bucky waited for her with closed eyes and a fluffy towel. Rose wrapped herself in it, ignoring the goosebumps from his metal fingers sliding down her arm, and kissed his cheek. 

"Thanks, Bucky.”

She brushed past him on her way out of the bathroom and Bucky was left standing there, eyes still closed, reeling from her touch. He was scared that if he opened his eyes he'd realize it was a dream or some spectacular hallucination brought on by 1,000 volts of electricity surging through his brain stem. 

He flinched at the memory of his last wipe. 

Warm fingers wrapped around his hand and tugged him away from the thought. 

"C’mon, I think we both need hot chocolate."

Bucky opened his eyes and Rosemary filled his vision. In her silk robe, hair clipped up, and lips slightly swollen, she looked like an absolute dream. 

He let Rosemary tug him into the kitchen, where she set about pulling out ingredients while he took it on himself to pick up her discarded keys and tote bag. He hung them on one of the hooks by the door, right next to his jacket. His hands lingered there a moment. 

It was so...normal. His jacket, her keys, their shoes lined up on the rack below. He turned to the kitchen where Rosemary was stirring hot chocolate in a pot, humming under her breath, and his heart nearly stopped altogether. It was all so achingly perfect. 

He wanted this, he realized. He wanted quiet evenings at home, keeping her company in the bath, chocolate cake in the fridge, and a million pillows piled on the bed. But more than anything, he wanted Rosemary between his arms, on his lips, and in his soul—whatever was left of it. He wanted it so bad it hurt. 

"It's ready!" Rosemary called from the kitchen.

Bucky followed her voice like a siren call and accepted the steaming mug she handed to him.

They migrated to the living room and Bucky set his mug down on the coffee table. She hovered near the couch, where he’d already sat down, teeth worrying her lip and eyes not meeting his. 

“Rosemary," he called to her.

Her eyes snapped to him. She swallowed hard and set her hot chocolate down, not bothering with a coaster.

"Come help me?" she asked.

Bucky was on his feet without hesitation and following Rosemary down the hall. She stopped in front of the closet and he stopped just behind her. Two slow exhales later, Rosemary opened the door and glanced back at him. 

"Can you grab the box for me?"

He did as asked and pulled the box from the far corner of the closet for the second time that day.

"Thanks," she sniffled and eased it from his hands.

Rose cradled the box close and headed back to the living room, where she set it down on the coffee table, right between their hot chocolates. Her hand rested over the name scrawled across the lid. The couch dipped when Bucky sat down beside her. Rose turned watery eyes to the ceiling and drew a shaky breath. 

"I haven't opened this in almost a year," she admitted. 

"I'm sorry."

"No! No, Bucky, I don't blame you for looking. I just—I guess I was shocked. I thought...well I thought I was finally coping after all this time. But then you said her name—" a shuddering breath escaped her. “And it all came rushing back."

Rose bit down on her lip and opened the box. Her hands trembled. 

Everything inside was just as she remembered. She never would've known that Bucky had looked through it if he hadn't told her. It was good that he told her. It's a conversation they'd have to have eventually. Though, eventually came sooner than she’d anticipated.

Rose reached into the box and pulled out each item, lining them all up on the coffee table until the box was empty and Rose was left staring at the remnants of a person she loved. Her fingers ran over the top of the small velvet box.

"She was awarded that after her second tour. For ‘exceptional service to her country.’ She saved eight soldiers. Just kept diving back into the water, even when her superiors ordered her to stop. She wouldn't." Rose picked at her nails. She couldn't help the way her mind played the scene like a movie inside her head. She hoped the reality hadn't been as awful as her imagination made it out to be. "She saved them all. Tara was always like that, saving everyone she could." 

Bucky was quiet next to her, just listening. 

It was terrifying talking to someone else about Tara. But if she had to talk about it, Rose was glad it was with Bucky. She couldn't picture doing this without his steady presence next to her.

Rose reached out and pulled a silk robe from the pile of stuff on the table. As she cradled the fabric in her lap, Bucky realized it matched the one she was wrapped in. The patterns were an exact match, but while the robe she wore was a muted pink, the one in her hands was a soft blue.

"She came home three months after that but...it wasn't the same." Rose quickly wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks. "It was like her body was right there in the room with me but her soul was somewhere else. She used to—she had this smile that made the whole room light up. God—" Rose bit down hard on her lip. 

"She used to be so happy. You couldn't help but be in a better mood just being near her. I tried...when she came home I tried to get her back to that place, back to something okay...but she never..." Her body quivered and Rose collapsed in on herself with a soul-wracking sob, clinging to the robe like a lifeline. 

A warm hand stroked over Rose's hair and down her back. She cried harder and she fell apart under Bucky's quiet comfort. 

"She couldn't shake it." Her tears were ruining the silk but she couldn’t seem to stop. "Whatever happed out there, it broke her. And I couldn't fix it. I couldn't help her. No matter what I tried—" Another heaving sob wracked her body. "I really tried," she whimpered.

Bucky's hand scrunched in her hair, nails scraping gently against her scalp. "What happened to her?" He hated to see her cry. For the first time in who knows how long, he felt helpless. 

A broken sound escaped Rosemary. "You saw the note, you already know."

He continued rubbing Rosemary's back. "I didn't read it." 

Silence hovered heavy in the air. Rosemary hiccupped and lifted her head just enough to look at him. "You didn't?"

Bucky blinked down at her. His thumb caught a tear as it dripped down her cheek. "Didn't seem right to."

Another crack formed in Rose's already fractured heart.

She threw her arms around his neck and collapsed into him, trusting that he’d catch her. And Bucky held her until her sobs quietened, until she stopped shaking, until she took a tentative breath and mumbled against his neck, "Tara killed herself."

The air around them stilled, so quiet that Rose heard the muffled whir of gears turning somewhere beneath the shiny surface of Bucky's metal arm. He held her a bit tighter. 

"Almost two years ago now." Rose burrowed further into Bucky's embrace, knowing that if he looked at her with those endless blue eyes she'd break down all over again. 

"I didn't see it coming. I knew she was unhappy, trust me I knew, but I didn't think it was that bad. And looking back I don't know...I don't know if I was the thing that pushed her over the edge," she confessed. 

"No." Bucky's stern bark cut her off. "It wasn't your fault." 

Rose shook her head, rubbing a tear-soaked cheek against his collar. "You don't know that," she mumbled. "You can't know that." 

A train whistle echoed through Bucky's mind. A flash of white-capped mountains rushing by, an outstretched hand, a grief-stricken face. Long forgotten fear and resignation dripped down his spine. His hand curled tighter in Rosemary's hair. 

"I know it."

Rosemary's sniffles quietened for a moment. He could feel the silent question hovering in the air between them. How? But he couldn't answer it. Not yet, not until he knew the answer for himself.

"I know you," he said instead. "I know you were trying to help her, like you're helping me...she knew it too. I promise.”

Rosemary's shoulders shook with another sob and she curled deeper into him. Bucky held her and let her fall apart. He could be strong for the both of them right now. She'd been carrying her burdens alone for too long. He wouldn’t let her be alone again. 

It took a while for Rose to stop crying. How she still had any tears left was beyond her. She pulled reluctantly out of Bucky's embrace. His hands lingered for a moment before falling away. His metal fist clenched over and over. 

"I think I'm gonna have whiplash from today, " she chuckled. "Sobbing to kissing and back to sobbing. I feel fried.”

Rose worried her lip between her teeth. Her eyes flickered up to Bucky. He was already watching her. 

"I'm sorry for dumping all that on you." Calloused fingers brushed a stand of hair behind her ear. 

"I'm not," he said.

A watery laugh fell from her lips. "You know, you might be the sweetest guy I’ve ever met."

Bucky's stomach sank. He remembered with perfect clarity the bruises on her skin, ones he'd put there, and the sound of her crying in hidden corners. 

"You must not have met many good men.”

"No," her chuckle was strained. "No I haven't."

It was on the tip of his tongue—I'm not a good man either—but he bit back the words because Rosemary was looking up at him with shining eyes and, dare he believe it, hope. No one had ever looked at him like that. And Rosemary already knew he was no good, she had to already know. She deserved better. So that's what he needed to be. 

"You will," he promised.

Rosemary smiled, it was a sad little thing but there was a spark in her eyes again. 

He made a conscious effort to memorize her just like this. Wet hair, silk robe, and those beautiful brown eyes shining up at him. Yeah. This moment was being tucked safely into the colorful corner of his mind.

Rose cleared her throat and looked away. Surely Bucky didn't know how intense his staring was. She usually didn't mind it but this time felt...different.

She passed her fingers over Tara's robe one more time and tucked it back into the box. Her knuckles touched something she'd forgotten was there. Rose's hand came back with a plain leatherbound notebook, still unused.

"I got this for her when things got really bad. Her therapist said that journaling could help.”

Tears dripped onto the leather and rolled away. "She never got to use it."

Rose drew a steadying breath and looked up at Bucky, who was watching her intently. She set the notebook on his lap.

"Maybe it can help you?"

A warm hand covered hers atop the notebook. Bucky's eyes had never looked so blue before.

"Thank you." 

“We should have cake," Rose said, clearing her throat and reluctantly pulling away. 

"We haven't even started the hot chocolate." A little crease a sat between Bucky's brows. 

Rose shook her head. "Live in the moment, Barnes. I've just cried a kiddie pool worth of tears and I need cake."

It happened so quickly that if she blinked Rose would've missed it. The corner of Bucky's mouth twitched upward. It could hardly even be called a smile but he'd never worn a warmer expression than he did in that moment. 

Rose's heart stuttered against her ribs. 

"I'll get it." Bucky stood from the couch and marched into the kitchen.

Rose sat dumbfounded, staring at his back as he rummaged through the fridge. He'd smiled. Almost. Sort of.

He set the cake and two forks on the coffee table and glanced up, catching Rose's eye. She snapped her attention away in a panic. She could feel Bucky staring at her as he sat down again. The couch dipped from his weight and Rose's shoulder brushed his. Heat crept up her neck even as she shivered from the brush of metal through her silk robe.

Three things happened all at once. 

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, still laser focused on her. Rose shoved a forkful of cake into her mouth. And a knock rattled the front door. 

Both their heads jerked towards the door. Bucky's expression had frozen over. 

"Stay here—" 

"I'll get it!—" they said at once.

Rose swallowed her mouthful of cake and darted off the couch before Bucky could blink.

"Rosemary wait!"

But she was already opening the door.

Bucky was there in a split second. In one quick maneuver Rose was shoved behind him and suddenly she was stumbling into his back as he faced the thing in doorway. Rose peeked around his shoulder and hummed to keep back a laugh. 

"You know, I like this strong protector thing you do." Her arms wound around his waist in a teasing hug. "But I don't think you need to protect me from the mail."

A small brown box sat on her doormat. 

Bucky placed a hand against hers, which rested over his stomach. 

“Don't touch it," he warned.

"Bucky," she chided gently, pulling away. "It’s just the mail."

She skirted around him despite his protests and brought the box into the kitchen. Rose set it on the counter and turned to grab a knife. She was about to slice through the tape when a metal hand stopped her.

"Bucky—" 

"There's no label."

Rose's brow furrowed. "What?" 

Bucky jerked his chin toward the box. "There's no address. Someone knows where you live." 

Cold dread slid down her spine. The knife clattered onto the counter. 

"No one knows where I live. Just Sam, but he's not even in the country right now...Bucky?" 

The quiver in her voice triggered something in him. Rosemary's safety was compromised. He was failing his mission.

Bucky tore into the box more recklessly than he should have. Rosemary flinched at the echoing rip of cardboard.

A paper-wrapped rectangle plopped onto the counter. Atop it, held in place by a red ribbon, was a note. Metal fingers pulled it free. The ribbon fell away like streams of blood.

His eyes scanned the words once, twice, and once more. Bucky barely heard Rosemary's strangled gasp past the ringing in his ears. The note crumpled in his fist. The words were burned into his mind.

Your guard dog won't be around forever.