Escaped

Bucky pretended not to notice after a while. He pretended not to hear you cry in the shower and pretended not to see your red eyes when you came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your head. He’d asked once, but you’d just brushed him off and lied, saying you got soap in your eye. He pretended not to notice the crack in the tile of the shower wall after you punched it. He pretended not to see how you would occasionally reach your hand up to your neck like you were trying to grip a necklace, only to to have your hand fall away as you looked heartbroken.

But he couldn’t pretend not to notice when you woke up sobbing at night. He’d always be by your side, holding you close. Most of the time, you didn’t want to talk about it. But one night, you did.

“I had a brother who died in the war,” you whispered one night after you woke up, worse than most nights. “His name was Timothy. He was my best friend.” You reached your hand up and rested it on your chest. “I’ve been getting more memories from my life before. Tonight, I got the memory of my mother reading me the letter. She gave me his dog tag. When-when HYDRA took me, they ripped it off me. I read the old police report the other day. The only reason they knew I was missing was from the dog tag. But now-now I don’t even have that.”

Bucky gently rubbed your back. “Well, didn’t you say you had two brothers? Maybe the other one has some kids you can connect with. Maybe someone still has the tag. Like a family heirloom or something.”

“Not likely,” you said. “From what I can remember, Jonathan and I didn’t get along. He didn’t like my life path, he was a watchmaker’s apprentice. When he got drafted, it was like a convenient out. We stopped talking completely. When he got home, we still didn’t talk. And then I disappeared.” You slumped against Bucky and sighed.

“You know, I had a sister. Her name was Rebecca. Called her Becky. She was the light of my life. When I recovered, I found out she died in ‘86. No kids. But she was well-loved. She worked as a psychologist for POWs. I still miss her like hell, though.”

“How do you deal with it, Buck?” you asked him, turning your head to look up at his face.

Bucky smiled and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “I talk to people about it. I don’t bottle it all up. It’s not healthy.”

You sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The two of you stayed like that until you fell back to sleep. Bucky tried to extract himself from your limbs, but you grabbed onto his shirt in your sleep. He realized he couldn’t get up without waking you, so he stayed there the rest of the night, just playing with your hair.

“So, how do I look?” you asked Sam and Bucky, setting your makeup brush back into the cup holding all the others.

“The lipstick’s a bit too much for this century,” Sam said.

You groaned and grabbed a tissue. “Really?” you started dabbing your lips to lighten up the red.

“Why are you so stressed about this?” Bucky asked you. “You’re just going in for a consultation for a new arm.”

“Look, it’s the first time I’m actually leaving the apartment complex for more than groceries since getting my memory back. I want to look nice.”

“Well, you look lovely,” Bucky said. Sam snorted, but was elbowed promptly in the stomach with a vibranium arm.

“Hey, don’t be so nervous,” Sam said when you walked into Stark Industries’ main building. “Pepper’s gonna love you.”

“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t?”

“But she will.” Sam gestured to the door in front of you. “I’m gonna leave you here. I’ll be back in about an hour, alright? Then Bucky’s taking us out for pizza.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, gripping the hem of your skirt.

“Hey, (Y/N), breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Good. Now go get that ugly star off your arm.”

You smiled and lightly knocked on the door.

“Come in!” a woman’s voice came from the other side. You slowly pushed open the door and were greeted by a red-haired woman. “Hello, (Y/N), it’s lovely to see you,” she said. “I’m Pepper. Come on in, come on in.”

You nervously stepped into the room. There were at least five people in lab coats and more lab equipment than you’d ever seen.

“We’ve been working with the best scientists in the world, and we’ve come to the decision that we’re essentially going to give you the same arm as Mr. Barnes. We’re going to modify it with a few updates so it’s as much like a real arm as possible.”

“Oh, um, okay. Thank you.”

Pepper smiled. “There’s really no need to be so nervous. These machines are the safest in the world. The most it’ll do is squeeze your arm a tiny bit or tickle a little.”

You took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Pepper had you lie down on one of the machines while a doctor hooked a cuff up to your arm. Apparently it was supposed to make sure none of your vitals were in danger. You were still extremely anxious as the machines powered up and started whirring around you. But as soon as it started, it was over.

“Alright, you’re all done,” Pepper said, offering her hand to you. She helped you hop off the machine. “We’ll get to work on your arm as soon as possible. Shouldn’t take longer than two weeks,” Pepper promised.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said, rubbing the steel arm. “I’m gonna go find Sam.”

You wandered the halls of Stark Industries, looking for your friend. You’d asked a few people where you could find him, but they all gave you different answers.

“Hey, you,” Bucky said, suddenly appearing by your side. “Uh, hey,” you said. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting all day.”

“I did, but we ended early. It’s surprising how fast things can go when you don’t stop every five seconds to argue. And Sam called to tell me he was tied up with Rhodey all day so he couldn’t take you home. Figured I would.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Come on,” Bucky said, offering his arm to you. “We can stop for malts on the way home.”

“Malts? Do they still have those now?”

“Well, not exactly,” Bucky said as you made it to the doors. “Call them milkshakes now.”

“Hey, there, pretty thing,” some guy called to you as you walked down the street with Bucky. “What’s that lovely mouth of yours do? Care to give me a smile, huh?”

You put your head down and tried to walk faster. Bucky gripped your hand. “Fuck off, asshole,” he called back.

“He doesn’t look too happy, Buck,” you muttered, keeping your head down.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s harassing you. Your personal feelings go out the window when you harass someone.” Bucky pulled you closer to his side, resting his hand around your waist. He glared at any guy who looked at you in anything other than acknowledgement. You waved it off as him trying to keep you from getting catcalled again.