Her POV.
Quinn woke up to hearing her own snoring. She was sitting on a chair next to Bucky’s sound asleep body. After he fainted, she called the intern that took care of her, Garret, so he could bring stuff from the Hospital. She witnessed how his attack was out of the ordinary, for he was an extraordinary man. When he did wake up his slumber made it impossible to react or say something coherent. Still, she put an IV on him with vitamin serum, as well as treating his rib with a special spray and putting an ice pack. It honestly felt natural to take care of him after everything he's done for her, even when she treated him badly. Once Garret arrived, he noticed Quinn’s fever wasn’t going well, so she reluctantly let him inject her.
“Why are you awake and silent?” She bluntly asked, because the minute she lifted her head Bucky was staring at her with a frown.
“Because of the same reason as you.” His voice was hoarse. “You were snoring, but I heard it five minutes ago.”
“And you didn’t wake me.” The girl affirmed while rubbing her eyes. “Whatever, how are you feeling? That was one hell of a panic attack.”
“I’m… fine, thanks.” He shifted to sit instead of laying down. “Auch.”
“That’s your fractured rib. I treated it over the night but somehow you heal faster than Terminator. It was interesting.”
“How did you even enter here?”
“I heard you screaming and thought someone broke into your place, so I started to call 911. Then again it didn’t sound like someone else was there, which made me remember my grandmother had a copy key of your door and I came in and found you…”
“Convulsing? Shaking? Screaming? Crying?” Bucky tried to finish her sentence.
“Yeah.” The man looked at his arm and met the IV, that was on his night table. Then he remembered Quinn was also sick. “Wait, how the hell did you manage to even…”
“Treat you?” She completed his sentence as well. “I was a volunteer at Afghanistan once, so I have experience in helping people while hurt. Traumatology.”
“Right. Good to know.” Things suddenly turned awkward, neither of them wanting to get too vulnerable.
“If you don’t mind, I’m taking away the IV, you are doing much better. I’d tell you to go to a hospital, but I sense that’s useless.” Since people didn’t usually came across to super soldiers.
“Of course, you’re the Doctor. Though you fell asleep while watching on me, not super professional.” One more time, a little humor saved the situation making the girl ghost a smile.
“Alright, since my hands are cold this might bother a bit when I’m taking this out of… right there.” As Quinn would usually do, she just talked to him like any other patient. “And we’re done.” When meeting his eyes, she found him looking at her lovingly. “What?”
“You know, I remember a bit of last night. There I laid on the cold floor of my bathroom, until a sudden light hit my eyes and within it an angelical creature showed up to save me. My hero.” The dramatic speech was so unlike Bucky that it made her genuinely wheeze while laughing.
“I don’t remember accidentally putting you un drugs, Barnes.” She answered, while putting her medical instruments and waste on a special bag. “But I definitely like better the role you have as a nosy and annoying neighbor.”
“I prefer my rude and angry neighbor too. It’s not my fault she suddenly turned so nice and… attractive.” Quinn’s eyes widened.
“Now you’re flirty? Yeah, this is my cue to leave.” Taking her stuff, she walked out the room turning back to give him one last look. Those were her trust issues in action. “I’ll see you… I don’t know when I’ll see you, Imma need a few business days without you. Remember to eat and hydrate yourself.”
“I love it when you tell me to take care.” He answered, clearly glad he found a new way of annoying her.
“Shut up!” She screamed from his living room. “And remember to fucking change your stupid ice pack!” Then slammed the door closed.
“Bye Parker!”
What a night.
*
The next days in her house were easier. Since Carl was a bit injured from his accident at daycare, Trish agreed to leave him at Quinn’s, so they’d do a little company to each other. She lost count of how frequently they saw the Lilo & Stitch’s movie. Just to get an idea, the girl learned by heart the order of the scenes. They also draw, painted, and safely played around the apartment. Honestly, being with him gave her a thousand lifetimes. After her friend or Tucker came for the boy, she’d take time to study and keep her mind occupied with medical knowledge she lost from being away five years. It was a nice routine she created, yet one day it faced some hardships.
“Alright, Chuckie. Are you ready to make cookies?” She asked, while getting the materials to the dining table. The kid was nowhere to be found. “Carl?” It only took a few steps to know he was at the forbidden room. “Hey buddy.”
“Auntie Q! I found toys!” He excitedly exclaimed. The small room contained a kid’s bed with a small shelf that had said toys on it.
“You did!” She tried to follow his emotion. On the inside, Quinn only hoped and held herself from scaring him with a weird reaction. “Oh, you’ve met Cap.”
“What?” Carl asked, clueless of the toy he chose. It was a rusty action figure.
“He is Captain America.” She explained.
“Okay.” After a few silent seconds, Quinn figured he wouldn’t want to leave the room, so she did.
While calming her breath, silent tears fell from her eyes to the clothes. When moving in she only had someone cleaning the room and leave the things inside on the same position. She didn’t dare to step close, asking them to just close it. Now because of her own fault, Carl found it and made her see it for the first time in more than 20 years. In that second it wasn’t as difficult since she only focused on the boy. But right now, the memories it contained resurfaced; all those times she locked herself in, daydreaming about Captain America and The Howling Commando coming to save her. They never did, of course. How would dead people save her from being physically and mentally abused? Still, those times that little Quinn believed it, were the only ones who showed her a glimpse of hope. The day her childhood ended, was the day she understood that even if those heroes were alive, they wouldn’t come for a small girl in Brooklyn. No one would and no one did.
“Auntie, look.” Little Carl came running to her position at the sofa with a photo on his hands. “That’s him.” He pointed his neighbor’s direction. It was one of Bucky’s old pictures.
“I’m sorry, Chuckie.” Quinn truly was. “He’s not here anymore.” She pointed the picture.
It wasn’t in a mean way. Strangely enough, the Bucky she met fit her more than the hero she once admired. Although their relationship was far from normal or decent, she respected everything he have been through, whatever it was exactly. Because everyone knew the official version, yet Quinn knew better than that. It was still hard interacting with him without her inner child wanting to punch him and hug him at the same time.
*
After the incident Quinn caught herself reflecting more, because now more than ever, the fact that she lived in the place she swore to never get close at was 100% real. Avoiding Bucky seemed natural thanks to her wish of taking distance, but after three weeks it started to get more evident. She came back to the Hospital with the surprise of a promotion, so work was the highest priority now. Preferring to do paperwork in her office rather than home, volunteering to longer shifts, having multiple scheduled surgeries and using her free time to sleep or travel the whole way to Long Island to visit Trish. She somehow perfectly managed to avoid running into him, except for today.
Today she obliviously passed by Bucky buying the newspaper, coming back from the sushi place. She assumed they’d have to talk to each other when opening their apartment’s door. While going upstairs she mentally prepared herself to do so but froze in shock. There’s a window in between the 1st and 2nd floor stairs, which had a small space for a plant. Next to the plant, laid an old and rusty cat.
“…Marie?” She whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. The cat that once was white, meowed at her.
Quinn broke down crying.