His Saving Grace

I stood, stumbling downstairs and into the living room. I held my ribs as I pushed the coffee table back into its place before packing up the med kit. The bag was sitting in the doorway, and I slipped the case inside. I couldn’t afford to forget it if we had to run again. I was still cursing myself for the stupidity of forgetting the other one.

I straightened painfully, leaning against the wall to catch my breath before moving into the bathroom. The entire right side of my face was turning yellow, my lip was split badly enough it was dripping blood, there was a small cut along my hairline and I cringed when I pulled my shirt up to see the massive bruise forming on my ribcage.

I let my shirt drop and leaned against the counter, head down. Slowly, I reached into the top drawer and pulled out a hand towel, turning the hot tap on and letting it run over the cloth. Once it was warm enough I slowly dabbed it at my lip, cleaning away the blood. Rinsing it off, I used another end the clean the cut on my forehead. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant a concussion, which was lucky at least.

Sighing to myself I let the cloth drop into the sink, watching as the clear water turned a pink until it ran clear yet again. I turned the tap off, putting the small of my back against the sink, eye on the door as I pressed a hand to my ribs. I closed my eyes briefly, to see just how badly they were cracked.

Two were cracked, one was broken, and pressing up against my lung. I was lucky it hadn’t punctured it. Slowly, I focused on setting it, letting out a gasp when I felt it snap back into place, still cracked, but no longer broken and pressing against my lung.

Leaving the rest to heal on their own, I left the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind me. I walked into the kitchen, checking the pantry for anything to eat. There were a few cans of soup that hadn’t expired, so I grabbed them, firing up the stove as I painfully bent down to get the pot.
After giving it a rinse, I put the soup in and placed it on the stove, handle away from the edge of the stove, like I always did before Hydra had come knocking. Pushing the thought away, I stirred the soup until I could hear movement upstairs. The mix of tranquilizer and brute force had knocked him out for ten minutes.

Not too bad, considering.

I heard Bucky make his way downstairs, and I heard him stop in the doorway.

“What did I do?” He asked, his voice groggy but normal, with a hint of dread and guilt. I didn’t turn around, but motioned to the cabinet.

“Grab some bowls, would you?” I asked, and I heard him move. The clatter of ceramic followed, along with the sound of it hitting the bench.

“Grace, tell me. What did I do?” He asked again, voice filled with an emotion that I could only describe as desperation. I looked down at the soup, stirring it silently. “That bad?” He asked, and I could only imagine the look he had on his face.

I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of my bruised face. I waited another moment before turning around, placing a smile on my face.

“You got lost, for a little while. But nothing horrible. I had to knock you out, but really, no damage done.” I said as he watched my face, looking for any sign of dishonesty. Little did he know, I was an excellent liar. And there was no longer any evidence of the fight on my face.

Bucky studied my face intently, looking for any damage. His tense posture relaxed, but tensed again almost immediately.

“Why did you take so long to turn around?” He asked, eyes trained on my face. I shrugged.

“I was cooking dinner.” I said, turning back around and stirring the pot. I didn’t hear him get up, but I felt his hand on my ribs, applying a bit of pressure that was hard enough to make me flinch away from him.

“Nothing horrible. No damage done.” Bucky repeated quietly, pulling his hand away and moving to the other side of the kitchen, head down. I turned and watched him, watched the guilt draw over his face.

“Bucky-“

“Don’t.” Bucky said before I could finish. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.” He said softly, looking down at the ground.

“Bucky, I stayed because I chose to.”

“I hurt you.” He said, and I shook my head.

“No, you didn’t. Give me a day, two, and I’ll be perfectly fine. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.” I turned the stove off and poured the soup into the bowls.

“You weren’t like that before.” Bucky said, drawing my attention back to him. He was watching me now. “You’re different now.”

I shrugged, pushing a bowl towards him. I grabbed two spoons from the drawer and slid one over next to the bowl. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t need to.

“How many experiments did they run on you?” He asked, and I could almost see the memories that were flashing through his head. He remembered more than he let on, I figured. But it wasn’t my place to push him into telling me. If he wanted me to know, I was sure he’d let me.

“Eat your dinner, Bucky. It’s been a long day, and I would like to sleep for at least a few hours.” I said, pulling my own bowl to me and sipping it slowly. The warmth was welcome, I hadn’t realized that I was cold.

Bucky didn’t move, his eyes trained on me and looking like they weren’t going to stop until I gave him what he wanted. “Grace, tell me. What did they do to you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Bucky.” I said softly, but there was no mistaking the firmness in my tone. Bucky didn’t say anything, and I sent a quick glance his way. His eyes were on me, waiting. “I don’t push you, Bucky. Leave it be.”

“Fine.” Bucky said, not looking at all happy with not knowing what he wanted. “You keep telling me that you’re here if I need to talk about anything. But so am I. I trust you, but I think it’s time for you to trust me.” Bucky left the kitchen, and I saw him slip into the living room.

I sighed, leaving my bowl on the bench and heading upstairs. I was tired, and at that moment, all I wanted was to sleep. I’d deal with everything in the morning.

I got to my room and fell face first onto the bed, I was out before my head even hit the pillow.