Chapter 8
You’ve always hated Steve’s office. The colors are limited to shades of grey, the air conditioning forever set to freezing and it smelled like sweat and dirt. His desk is constantly covered in towers of papers with a thin layer of dust over it all, like it’s been ages since he went over it, because, yes, it’s obvious Steve himself doesn´t like in there either. You hate it. It always means trouble when you have to be in that room. And as a plus, the last thing you want is a one on one with the Captain when you’re tired as fuck and can’t think properly.
You waited and waited for Bucky. The whole night to be specific. Holding up to an illusion that he would want to talk to you at last, even if it was to just yell at you. But the truth is he didn’t come. Maybe he really didn’t care as much as you thought, or hoped, he still would. The other super soldier in front of you, on the other hand, could drill a hole into you with his piercing concerned stare.
“So?” You tap your fingers over his desk and raise a brow to your uncharacteristically silent friend.
“You know,” he sighs, leaning his elbows over the desk, “When Fury told me he had offered you the Director position in Europe, I was sure you deserved it, you already had a brilliant trajectory behind you,” he smiles, crossing his fingers in front of him, “But I wasn’t so sure you were gonna take the job.”
“And why was that?” Your question comes out in a rasped tone while fold your arms in front of your chest.
“Because you’re just like me,” he continues, unfazed by your defensive posture, “You hate all of this,” he waves his hands around the piles of dusting papers around his office, “You hate being trapped inside four walls, dealing with white collar people who have their own agendas, having a pen as your only weapon. You love the field, and you’re damn good at it.”
The tension slowly leaves your muscles as you hear Steve’s words, and you place your hands in your lap, refusing to look up at him. You see where this is going.
“You’re one of the best. The perfect professional, I’m not afraid to say that.” He shakes his head and leans over, closer to you, as his voice comes out small, “This is why your behavior yesterday scared the shit out of me. Out of everybody.”
Your gaze finally flicks up to him. His lips are pursed together and he stares at you with those worried blue eyes of his. You bite your cheek and look to the side, incapable to bear his stare.
“You’re a tornado on the field, Y/N. But you’ve never been so reckless, so negligent. During the whole mission, you showed so little concern as to what could happen to you and then, you said you said-”
“I meant that, Steve,” Your sudden comeback silences him and you lift your watery eyes to look at him, “I meant that,” you repeat, pressing your lips tight. You really did mean you didn’t care if you ended up dead right there. You didn’t want to admit it, but this fact also scared the shit out of you. Steve is right, you’re damn good at your job, but you were never so indifferent about what could happen to you. You were always one step ahead, watching over yourself and your teammates before anything. And you definitely have never been suicidal, not even close…
Steve reaches his hand for you and you accept it, gladly accepting the warm touch.
“Then you understand you need help to deal with it.” He squeezes your hand, waiting for your answer.
It takes you a minute or two, but you finally take a deep breath and nod at him, raising your look from your joined hands to his face.
He smiles and nod back, “I’ll sign you a leave, a few months off while you see a professional, how about that?”
You hate that, of course you do. Work is your whole life and you just came back to doing what you love with the teammates you love… But you’re not stupid. And if you’ve learned something these two years after you ran away is to not ignore your feelings anymore. And, right now? Right now you feel like shit and need help.
“Ok,” you whisper, squeezing his hand back.
“Everything will be fine, I promise. Soon you’ll be back on kicking lots and lots of ass, just the way you like it.”
You chuckle softly, trying desperately to believe your friend and Captain’s words.
~~~
The list of psychiatrists and psychologists that worked for the Avengers is clutched in your hand. Steve highlighted those he trusted the most. You can’t help but feel a bit nervous about it though. You’ve been to therapy before, of course, it was protocol for SHIELD and then the Avengers, but that was all it was it for you. Protocol. This would be your first time going through the process because you actually realized you needed it.
Walking back to your room, you think about doing a little research over the names, just in case…
When you open the door, the sight before you brings you to a complete halt. The man you just spent all night waiting for is sitting on the edge of your bed. Damp locks framing his clean shaved face, like he’s just gotten out of the shower. Handsome as ever. But what makes your heart jump is the small object laying in his hand, the thing he stares at instead of acknowledging your presence.
“You know,” Bucky says, never raising his gaze to you, “I was gonna give this to you. I planned a whole big thing for when I came home from the mission.” He opens and closes the blue velvet box, the popping sound reverberating through the room.
“I know,” you admit.
His face snaps to yours. You still have your hand wrapped around the doorknob, keeping the door opened as you see the wave of emotions swaying through his expression. Your heart beat fast as you see confusion, hurt and realization.
“Is that…is that why you left?” His voice is quiet as his shoulders slump, making his naturally large figure seem nothing but small and fragile.
“No! Fuck, I mean…” You bite your lip, looking to the side briefly before your gaze is back on him, “I’m not sure… It’s complicated.”
“I’m here so we can talk, Y/n. And… and I think I deserve to know why.”
You gulp down a dose of courage and fully enter the room, shutting the door behind you before you put the piece of paper with the numbers inside your pocket. Bucky’s eyes follow you as you walk closer and pull an armchair to sit right in front of him.
He straightens up when you’re close, fist clenched hard on the little box.
You had no idea where to begin, so you begin from the start, “We started dating, I don’t know… two, three months after you got here, right?” you tilt your head and narrow your eyes at him.
“Two,” he states confidently.
You nod slowly, “Well, my point is…You didn’t get the opportunity to get to know much about me before we started dating.” You smile sadly at him.
He narrowed his eyes and tilt his head at you. A silent plea for you to continue.
”Love was never really a meaningful word to me. It was something I said and used whenever it suited me, whenever it was useful for a mission, or… for a distraction,” Your eyelids drop and you fidget with your fingers, “I didn’t really know what love was, and now, looking back, I see a lot of my grandfather’s lessons behind it. He always taught me that love was stupid, and that emotions and relationships were a diversion from the path I needed to follow.”
His face is attentive as he listens to you. You’re aware Bucky knows who your grandfather was. The famous Y/L/N, the one who founded SHIELD alongside Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. But that was all he knew about him, you were never one to bring him up in conversations. You didn´t want your last name to precede you, you wanted your achievements to be a result of your own actions and this is how it has always been.
“I don’t blame him,” you continue, “He taught me what he thought I needed to know. He lived in a time when women had to fight for respect and for a place in our world, especially if she wanted to be a fighter, an agent. Hell, we still have to fight for that…” you scoff, “So I believed him. I believed love wasn’t for me and I was fine with it, that my job was enough and that it was all that mattered… Until you happened.”
His eyes soften and you practically melt at the beautiful blue in them, feeling a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
“You came unannounced and I had never felt the way I felt with you before.” You lean over, dying to touch him, to at least place your hands over his, but not daring to. You’re too scared of how it would feel if he pulled away. “All I wanted to do was dive into what I felt for you, just to run into your arms and forget the world. And that’s what I did. Those new feelings swelling up inside me were exciting and wonderful and perfect and I loved it with all I had.” Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, at the memory of that unforgettable time when you lived for each other, “Nothing was more important to me than you. And it was okay. Because I was in love with you.”
“What happened, then?” His voice comes out strained, as his own tears threatened to run down his face.
You sigh, “A few weeks after you left for your mission, Fury called me into his office and offered me the position in London. The same position my grandfather occupied when he died…” You can’t hold back the tears, and don’t even try any longer, your eyes are no longer on him but glued to your fidgety fingers laying on your thighs, instead, “It was everything I ever wanted to be, what I spent my whole life hearing I was destined to be. I worked so hard for it, but when Nick offered the job, the only thing I could think about … was you.” You gaze up at him, and can see how his jaw is grounded.
“I never would’ve held you back from doing what you love. You know that.” There’s a hint of aggravation in his words.
“I know. But I would’ve considered staying if you had asked. And that scared the hell out of me.” You breathe, pursing your lips in a thin line.
He blinks at your words.
“I… I asked Nick for some time to think,” you pause, struggling to voice the chaotic feelings you were going through at the time, but you need to continue. You need him to understand. “And then,it was like something changed inside me. I felt like… like I was betraying myself! Like I didn’t belong, like I was living the life of someone else, not the life I was supposed to live. Our intense, wonderful love began to feel like a weakness… I tried to fight those thoughts, I really did…”
You swallow the fear of touching him and cover his hand still gripping the blue box on his lap, you can feel the light flinch when your hand join his, his eyes following the movement, “But, then I saw you holding this the morning before you left for the mission and I lost it. I panicked and the next thing I knew I was in London.”
“I brought it with me when I came to see you…” he murmurs and lift his gaze to yours, “I hoped, I knew in my heart I would leave with you by my side, there was no other way for me…” he shakes his head.
The information falls heavy in your chest and your jaw goes slack. You screwed up so bad with Bucky, the man you love. You need to make things right, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” You can taste the salt of your tears as you speak between sobs, “I shouldn’t have run away like that, I was so mean to you that day in London, but nothing of what I said was what I truly felt, you have to know that! Please, Buck, I need you to believe me. Just give me that please, just tell me you believe me.” Your voice sounds foreign to you. The desperate pleas a far cry from the cool tone you had earlier.
His head turns to the side and he takes his hand to wipe the tears off his cheeks. He chews his lower lip and takes a deep breath before giving you a small nod.
You can finally breathe and squeeze the hand you still have beneath yours. It’s all he can give to you at this moment and you gladly take it.
“Why did you come back?” He turns to you again.
Moving over the armchair, sitting at the very end of it, to be even closer to him, smile “Isn’t it obvious?” Your knees brush against his and the electricity of the touch runs down your veins, lodging in you spine, “I came back for you. Because I love you,” you say without an ounce of hesitation, “Because the love I once thought was nothing but weakness is what really keeps me alive.”
A pained expression contorts his face as he studies you, searching, looking for something, though you’re not sure what.
“I need it to breathe, Bucky I swear to God. And I regret that day, and I know I’ll regret leaving you every single day for the rest of my life. I love you more than anything, I need you to know that.” Your heart thuds in your chest.
He releases a restrained breath and shut his eyes briefly before leaning over. When his lips meet yours there’s no desperation, no need to devour one another. Unlike the other night, the gesture is easy, calm… loving. You bring your hand to the back of his necks and he cups your face. There’s nothing rushed in it as his mouth moves against yours, allowing you the feel the taste of your mingled tears, his velvet tongue teasing yours, warming you up, your whole body. It happens naturally, softly… As it’s a part of your everyday life. It could be one of the perfect dreams you kept having these two years separated if it didn’t felt so real, so perfectly real.
Too soon, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours, his finger lightly stroking the delicate skin of your cheeks, “I love you too, doll. I’ve never stopped.”
If you’re crying or laughing you cannot tell, all you know is that, despite not deserving them, the sweet words brighten up your whole world. He loves you. He kissed you. He called you doll, the name that had so many times made your stomach flutter and turned you into a melting mess. He still loves you and the emotion he pours into his voice seeps into your heart, filling you up with hope, with sheer love.
He keeps his forehead joined to yours and reaches to the small box that had fell on the mattress beside him when he kissed you. He wraps it in your hands, before bringing them to his lips, placing a long kiss over your knuckles.
You think you won’t be able to hold back inside the overwhelming adoration you feel for him, as he guides your hands holding the ring to rest in your lap.
“I’ve always carried your love with me, always.” He whispers, “But I don’t want it anymore, doll.”
Your blood freezes in your veins.
“W-what?” you stammer as you lean backwards and your eyes meet at the same time his hands leave yours.
“This love of ours… it ain’t good for us, sweetheart.” Despite the pain evident in his voice, his gaze conveys softness as he makes your world crumble, “It’s never been good for us, I can see that now… The speeding train our relationship was, it hit us with full force. I leaned too much on you… on what I was feeling for you. I put my life into your hands and I burdened you with it.”
“That’s not-”
“Shhhh,” he soothes, putting his hands over your knees and lightly stroking your skin with his thumbs.
The gentle touch only makes your tears spill harder and a lump grows inside your throat.
“I know, sweetheart. It’s true. I burdened you with my love and I clung to you so much that when you left, I thought that was it for me.” He gulps.
Guilt crushes your chest. You’ve broken his heart, you’re very much aware of that, and now you feel like he’s only beginning to smash yours to smithereens in return.
“There was a war inside me.” He continues with his gaze dropped to where he keeps the faint caress on your knees. “I was used to war, but that was so much worse…” The pain the memories bring seeps into his voice, making you want nothing but to hurt yourself instead. “I- I …. Someone helped me find a little peace again and everything seemed fine for a while.”
Someone… Your heart clenches. Holding the blue velvet box in your hands becomes a hard task when your fingers seem to be weakening. The lump in your sore throat making it difficult for you to say anything.
“But then you came back and all that war came back with you.” His brows furrow, still looking down, “The night at the roof, I was so harsh on you, baby, yes I was…” he insists when you try to protest, “The mission yesterday?” His gaze snaps to yours, “You didn’t care you were gonna die because you thought I was going to, and, doll, I’ve never felt terror like that, being the reason why you wouldn’t wanna live anymore… I can’t stand the thought of you feeling like that.”
“I know, I know,” You finally speak with desperation tied up to your voice, “I’ve just talked to Steve, I’m gonna find help and… and we can get help together! Right? Buck, my love, I know we can.” You choke on your words, bringing your empty hand to caress his cheek, not even thinking about how pathetic you sound, “I love you, Bucky, please, let me love you the way you deserve it, I know I can learn how to do that, I can make it up for what I did. I can…”
He shakes his head and removes your touch from his face.
The piercing ache hits your chest like a sharp blade.
“I don’t think I can go through that again. God, I don’t want you to go through all of that, either.” He runs his fingers through his hair and over his face, “You flew all the way across the ocean to run away from us, because it wasn’t good for you… What we need is to learn how to not love each other anymore. And I… I need something quiet. Peaceful. I need…”
The blade cutting through your heart twists further as realization downs when he trails off. Of course…
“Anna?” your own whisper barely reaches your ears.
A heavy moment passes before he speaks again, avoiding looking directly at you, “I got out of yesterday’s mission so… torn up. I needed to see her. We talked and I was honest with her. She was honest with me. You were right…” The expression taking over his face is almost apologetic, “She’s in love with me, has been for a while, and… and we decided to give it a try.”
“What?” You scoff in both disbelief and anguish, the speed of your heart increasing in unbelievable speed, “But you don’t love her!” Your voice becomes louder when you state the fact you knew in your ruined heart is true.
“I do love her.” He doesn’t flinch to answer, locking his gaze to yours.
You quit breathing.
“Not in the way I love…” He licks his lips and takes in a long shuddering breath, “I know I can learn to love her back the way she deserves. She helped me find peace when I thought my life was over. Anna is what I need.” He declares, firmly, “She’s the one for me.”
So this is what it feels like. Drowning. Falling into a suffocating ocean of pain.
He keeps talking, saying something about taking some time off and staying at a small apartment he had recently bought in Brooklyn, that you and him needed to keep distance, at least for now…
Your shoulders fall and you cocoon into yourself, sinking down in your seat. You hear him, but the words are nothing but a blur swaying around in your mind. You steel yourself in your chair, grabbing at the arms of it as you gulp down the dreadful reality.
You’re losing him.
It’s involuntary when you jerk away the minute he tries to reach for your arm.
“You can do whatever you want with your love, Bucky,” you use a raspy tone to interrupt whatever he’s saying.
He stays silent, waiting.
“But you don’t have a say on what I do with mine.” Your voice doesn’t carry the rashness it had seconds ago anymore, “I won’t learn how to stop loving you because I can’t and, also, because I don’t want to. I’m in love with you and I won’t run away from this love again. I’m going down with this ship, Bucky.”
The resolution in your voice is a contrast to the abysm of anxiousness you’re sinking into. You wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at you.
“I respect your decision, and I’ll keep my distance, I promise.” You speak, not bearing the silence any second longer. Your voice is laced with the same quiet and soft tone he’s been using to crush your hopes, “But remember, you’re the one turning your back on love this time. You’re making a mistake. Trust me, I know. I made the same one two years ago.”
With watery eyes and a tight chest, you witness his fight to hide what’s going through his head as he offers you nothing but a blank mask over his features and quietness. But you know him well. You know that, no matter what his feelings for you are, he’s determined and there’s nothing you can say to change that.
You lost him.
“This is yours.” He whispers, nodding at the box still in your hand and, without saying another word, he gets up. His steps echoes through the silent room as he rushes past you towards the door.
You keep yourself in your seat and look down at the object in your hands. Opening the velvet lid, you contemplate, for the first time up close, the small solitaire diamond inside. The stunning beauty of the rock- the materialization of what could have been- makes you swallow back a sob and it’s the final strike to your already writhing heart.
“You found peace with her but the nightmares came back, right? They had stopped when you and I were together…” the words come out sharply before you have a chance to think.
Even if your back is turned to him, you can tell he halts at your challenging words.
“You’re gonna break that girl’s heart just like you’re breaking mine, Bucky. I know I deserve it. But does she?”
He doesn’t give you an answer before you hear the door closing.