bucky
The airplane is rapidly descending. Rather than looking out the window and catching his first glimpse of the city, Bucky Barnes has brought down the shade. He is sitting in his seat, buckle barely secure around his hips, head reclined back with his eyes closed.
He tries not to think of the reason he is there in the first place. The real reason. It won't do him good to think about it, because then he will think about her, and then everything will go to hell.
Yeah, too late.
He shouldn't be on this flight alone. That isn't how it was planned. (Life never is). He had booked two seats, one for himself… and… her. His wife.
Well, not his wife anymore. Obviously.
They had organized the trip in advance. To visit Bucky's best friends Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, who had moved from Manhattan to Florence, Italy. They were to stay with the couple for a week and have a great time catching up while also exploring the historic city.
That isn't the case now.
Now, Bucky is by himself. Alone.
Lord only knows where his wi – his ex is.
Ever since he had woken up to the letter on his bedside table, he hasn't heard a single thing about her.
Please, don't bother looking for me. I've found someone else, and I'm happy. I hope you'll understand.
That was three months ago.
Just packed her belongings and went out the door in the dead of night, leaving behind both her diamond engagement ring and gold wedding band.
He was unable to reach her through her phone or email. He talked to her family, friends, and co-workers, anyone he knew that knew her. But no one seemed to know where she had run off to, or with who.
Well, that's what he initially thought. Then he got the sense that some of them did know, but for some fucked up reason, they never told him. Shouldn't or wouldn't. Either way, no one said a damn word and Bucky felt even more betrayed than he already did.
They knew how heartbroken he was. How utterly shocked and hopelessly confused he was by her abrupt departure. But it was like nobody cared about his feelings.
No matter how long he had known her family and friends – since high school because they had started dating when they were just freshmen – they never told him where she was.
Instead, they kept repeating "I'm so sorry" and "I wish it hadn't ended like this" and other shit that Bucky had ignored because it was filled with pity and he didn't need their pity.
He just wanted to know where his wife had gone. If she was safe. That was all. He could've dealt with the outcome of her decision later. If she had wanted a divorce, then he would've given it to her.
All Bucky wants in return is an explanation.
They had been together for more than 20 years. Married for half that time. When did he lose her? Was it when he enlisted in the Army? Was it when his left arm was permanently impaired? Was it when he suffered from PTSD and became an unbearable person to live with for a couple years? Was it when they found that she couldn’t have children? Was it when he finally started to follow his passion and write a book, spending endless hours in his office?
He just wants a reason. He doesn't know what he will do with the reason, maybe it will help ease his conscious. Maybe not. But at least he would know.
Perhaps it will help his worn-out mind find an escape through the dark clouds circulating around him. Break through the depression that has held him down, swallowing him whole. It's made it impossible for him to do anything, to want to do anything. He has no energy, no motivation to get up.
This is what happens when he's been abandoned by the person he loved more than anything in the world.
Without her, he's discovered that he is aimless. He had a purpose, which was to care for her and love her. Now that she is gone, he no longer has a purpose. He was so lost that he couldn’t even pretend to care about himself.
It took him awhile to come to the realization that he had been emotionally attached to her. So much so that when she left, and the depression seeped back into his mind, he welcomed it like an old friend. He didn’t fight it. He let it infiltrate his aching heart, because it was better to feel nothing.
In retrospect, he had stopped living, and this wasn't right.
Bucky guesses he has to thank his literary agent for letting him finally see the downwards spiral he was heading. Maria Hill passionately reminded him that he has a writing gift, and that it clearly showed in his debut novel which has recently climbed to #1 on The New York Times bestselling list. That is why he is signed to a $200,000 book deal.
"You were also a soldier," she had said. "You survived a war. I know this is the lowest point in your life, but you've preserved through everything that's been thrown at you. You've won all the battles. Don't let her win this one."
Which is what has brought him to this flight to Florence.
To Steve and Natasha.
He's not going to let her win.
He's going to be with his friends and have a great time, like they had planned. He's going to an artistic haven in Florence where hopefully he will find some inspiration for his second novel, because he realizes he hasn't stopped living yet. He's alive after all, and he needs to stay that way. He has to move on because there is nothing else left for him but to forge ahead.
He needs to find a new purpose. (It just might be to care for himself – but he isn’t ready to face that yet).
After the plane lands and he grabs his lone luggage, Bucky crosses through customs. The airport is small, so it doesn't take him long to find Steve through the crowds of people waiting for passengers.
He's waiting by the doors, hands tucked in the pockets of his khaki pants. He's craning his neck upwards, which is silly because he's taller than everyone in the room, even the security guards. Once he catches Bucky, he quickly approaches him.
"Buck!" Steve greets him warmly, slapping his shoulder as he brings him in for a brief hug.
"Hey punk," Bucky replies lowly, the corner of his mouth twitching. Though he hides it, he is relieved to see the blonde.
"I'm so happy that you made it," Steve says with a smile. Even at 36, there is not a wrinkle in sight on his face.
"Yeah," Bucky says, wincing that he sounds unenthusiastic. "Me too."
"You know," Steve says after a moment. Bucky realizes his hand is still on his left shoulder when he squeezes. "You can talk to me. When you're ready. You don't need to keep it to yourself. You don't have to."
Bucky looks up and sees nothing but sympathy, which is exactly how he would describe Steve. The man is so physically strong, but his strength doesn’t come through his muscles; it's his compassion. They both have been through so much, it's truly a blessing to have Steve in his corner. He knows he can find him there, just like Steve can depend on him if he ever needed him.
It's a nice remainder that he hasn't been entirely abandoned.
"Yeah," Bucky repeats, his throat slightly constricting. He doesn't want Steve to worry, so he forces a smile and returns the gesture by squeezing his shoulder with his right hand. "Thanks."
Steve's eyes linger on him, as if he knows that the smile isn't genuine. But he doesn't push it, he just nods and grabs the handle of Bucky's suitcase. Bucky wants to tell him that he can do that, but he bites his tongue.
Instead, he silently follows Steve out of the airport to his car which is parked nearby. Bucky looks down at his wrist watch and then up at the sky, finding the sun beginning to set. He's puzzled for a second until he realizes that he's six hours ahead of New York time.
When Steve turns on the car, a soft humming of Italian music plays. Nothing is said between them for a bit, Steve focused on listening to the directions that his phone dictates while Bucky looks out his window.
The road scenes – lots of cars, city buses, mopeds, and crowds of people, both natives and tourists, on the cobblestoned sidewalks – recalls home.
"This place kinda reminds me of New York City," he says.
"Yeah," Steve agrees. "With a lot less people, though. And more tourists. If that makes sense."
Bucky looks at him and smirks. "Not really."
Steve rolls his eyes. "Well, Nat and I have loved it so far. The architecture of the buildings and the cathedrals, they're all old and yet they still look so beautiful. You're just mesmerized when you see it. And then there's the food. The food is so amazing, it's a surprise that neither of us have gained weight. Probably because everything is within walking distance. I rarely ever use this car, except when we travel to other cities in Tuscany. I just walk to the studio, and Nat likes to use her bicycle."
At the mention of Natasha's name, Bucky remembers why they moved all the way out here.
"So she's really a teacher huh?" he asks. He still can't believe that she pursued a career in education when she was capable of achieving more.
"One English class and one Russian class," Steve says, his proud tone unmistakable. "They're college kids from here."
"And you're still goin' to those painting classes?"
Steve tears his eyes away from the road for a second to scoff at him; he didn’t miss the teasing tone. "Yes. I am. I've always loved to draw, and I'm living in the city that was the birth of the Renaissance. I'd be a fool not take advantage of this opportunity."
"Alright, alright," Bucky chuckles, holding his hand up in mock surrender. "I know you like to draw, but I just never expected that’s what'd you literally do after retiring."
"Yeah," Steve says more softly. "But I feel at home here. I know I've been here for a short time, and I do miss New York, but this place… it's growing on me."
For the first time in what seems like ages, Bucky smiles. It's a real one, and although Steve doesn't see it because Bucky is looking out the window, it's there. He feels very happy for him; at least one of them is contented with his life.
Quiet befalls again for some minutes. As he gazes at the passing buildings, Bucky can understand what Steve had said about the architecture of the city. They're huddled up like brownstones in every street, rising to three or four stories high. But they're not all residences; it's a mix of restaurants, shops, grocery stores lined up next to each other.
The sidewalks are very narrow, which explains why so many people walk freely on the edges of the roads, which in turn are shared with people riding on mopeds or bicycles.
The ambience, it's not what Bucky expected. It's wholly different, but he likes it.
He's so taken with the scenery that he almost doesn't hear Steve clear his throat.
"Um, there's something I need to tell you."
Bucky glances at him. "What's that?"
Steve inhales. "Well, Nat's little cousin has been stayin' with us for the past couple of weeks."
"Oh," he says after a beat. He doesn't think he has met the person. Then again, only a few relatives of Nat went to her wedding. "Ok."
"Yeah, her dad – Nat's uncle – he's in Brazil on a business trip. Since he'd be away for some time, Nat thought it'd be good for Wanda to be here. So they can spend time together and let her be somewhere where there's so much to do."
It takes him a second to recognize the cousin's name.
"Wanda?" he asks, turning to fully look at Steve. "Didn't Nat lose a cousin couple years ago?"
The question causes Steve to become visibly uneasy. "Uh... yeah. It wasn't Wanda, it was her twin brother. She's... she's been through a lot, the poor kid."
Bucky hums in response. He doesn't know what to say to something as devastating as that.
Steve continues, though he looks as if he sort of doesn't want to. "Listen. Nat didn't want me to say anything, but I don't think I'd be fair to you. Like I said, Wanda, she's been suffering. She spent time in a psychiatric hospital in New York. She was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder."
Bucky's brows furrow; he has never heard of it. "What is schizo – whatever you just said?"
Steve sighs, shaking his head. "It's a complex mental illness, doctors are still trying to understand it. Basically, it's schizophrenia and bipolar disorder in one."
Bucky's eyes widen. "Shit."
And he thought he has it bad.
Steve sighs again, more resigned. "Her mom passed when she was young, and her brother's death just made it worse. It just... fell apart. That's why she went to the hospital."
Bucky nods as he listens intently. He absolutely loathes having people pity him, but in that moment, he can almost understand why they felt that way – because he is feeling it too. He couldn't imagine losing his mom, or his sister Rebecca. It just isn't possible to imagine a loss that destructive to him, not after what he has gone through.
"But now, she's doin' great. So great," Steve says as his demeanor suddenly changes to an uplifting one. "She's reading, she goes out on bike rides, 'round taking pictures, sometimes she cooks for us, and she even dances in her room."
"Wow," Bucky chuckles. "Didn't think she'd be that active."
"Mm-hmm, the complete opposite of who she used to be, hangin' out with druggies and bein' high all the time."
Bucky can't help but snort a little, watching out the window as they conveniently drive by a group of teenagers. "We were like that. Once."
He's only poking fun, because he knows that Steve was never like that.
Right on cue Steve scoffs at the statement. "No, you were like that once. I still can't stand the smell, y'know. Makes me nauseous."
Now it's Bucky's turn to scoff, but mid-way it becomes a low chuckle. "Yeah, ok, big guy, whatever you say."
"Anyways," Steve smiles. "She's quit doing weed, thankfully. But she's started to smoke again. She's promised me it won't become a habit, but Italians here, they smoke all the time. So if you see her take out a cigarette, tell her that she shouldn't."
Bucky has his face turned so Steve doesn't see him roll his eyes. He wants to tell him that he's overreacting, but he also knows that Steve only has good intentions. So he assuages.
"You got it, Cap." After a moment, he asks, "How long is she stayin'?"
Steve pulls up to a quieter, more deserted street, so it must mean they're getting close.
"A month. Her dad should be back in New York this week, I think, but she wanted to stay longer. She's liked it here so much that she's told Nat and I that she wants to live here, go to school."
"What about her dad?"
He shrugs. "I dunno know how he'll react but... it's not like he's around anyways." He says bitterly.
Bucky nods understandably, but he still feels like he needs to remind him if he and Nat decide to take her cousin in. "That's a big responsibility, Steve."
"I know. But she needs to be in a stable environment. I feel like Nat and I can provide that." Steve says, and Bucky can tell from his soft yet determined voice that he really believes this.
After a pause, the car slows down to a stop, Steve parking it next to the small sidewalk. He flicks his chin to the right, smiling. "We're here."
The round arched double doors are the only thing made of wood; the rest of the building is smooth plaster. It's two stories high, the ground rectangular windows secured with rusting iron bars. From the outside, the townhouse doesn't look like much.
As he sees Steve take out his suit case from the trunk, Bucky remembers that he didn't buy a round-trip ticket. It was one-way at the advice of Maria Hill, who wanted him to spend time away as much as he needed without feeling pressured to come home with a draft.
"I won't stay long," he tells Steve as they walk up to the entrance. "Especially since Nat's cousin is here."
"Oh no, you can stay as long as you want, Buck," Steve reassures him with a kind smile. "There's no hurry."
Bucky wants to argue, to tell him that the max he'll stay is two weeks. But he's too tired from flying, and Steve is stubborn to a fault, so he says nothing for now.
Before Steve can insert the keys, the door swings open. On the other side is Natasha, and she looks radiant as always. Her curly red hair is much shorter than the last time Bucky had seen her; it's now cut just below her chin.
"Bucky!" she exclaims, rising to her tippy toes to kiss his cheek and wrap her arms around his shoulders. He immediately embraces her with his right arm, chuckling at how joyous she sounds. "You're finally here! Oh man, I've missed you.”
One moment he is happy, and then in the next, he's suddenly brought back to memories he doesn't want to remember. Memories of Nat and her, back in high school when they were close friends. He doesn't want to remember at all, God knows he doesn't because it pains him, but seeing Nat makes them resurface.
And he can't help but let his mind wander. Did Nat know about what would happen? Had she hinted to Nat of what she was going to do?
Natasha pulls away and gives him a gentle but knowing look, as if she can read what he is thinking. Truth be speaking, she always knows what he is thinking. He is still befuddled as to how she knows, maybe it’s written on his face or body language. And it's only her; he can mask his feelings very well with everyone else, including Steve who's known him practically all his life.
They step further into the house, Natasha closing the door before turning to him. Steve stands off to the side by the stairs with his suit case.
"I didn't know," she finally says quietly with a sad expression. Bucky wants to tell her that of course she didn't, but is unable to find his voice. "Truly, I didn't. I hadn't spoken to her since we left, which was about two weeks before…” her eyes flutter to Steve for a second before returning to him. She clears her throat and her mouth twitches into her famous smile-smirk. "But you’re here now, and I know you've had a long flight so go rest up for a couple minutes, and we'll give you a holler when dinner is ready. Ok?"
Even after all these years, Nat's ability to switch emotions in the blink of an eye will never cease to give him whiplash.
Bucky nods solemnly. "Ok."
"C’mon, Buck," Steve waves a hand. "I'll show ya to your room."
Just as Bucky takes his first step and looks up the stairs, he sees a young girl in dark clothing coming down. She's swift, then halts as soon as she sees Steve and him. She has long dark brown hair parted down the middle, waving around her slightly round face. Her eyes, rimmed in kohl, widen at the sight of him. When he meets her gaze, they stand there looking at each other for five seconds. Then she looks away, her shoulders hunching over her small frame.
"Bucky, this is my cousin, Wanda," Nat introduces them.
"Hey," he offers a friendly smile.
She doesn't reply, just smiles timidly back at him and then continues climbing down the stairs. As she passes him, an aroma of perfume follows her. The fragrance smells of flowers, like peony, pomegranate and magnolia blossoms. He thinks it smells nice.
Watching her go into the kitchen with Nat, it registers to him that Steve hadn't been exaggerating. She's really just a kid.