‹ Prequel: Monster
Sequel: From Darkness ›
Hell Bound
Fifteen
Sitting everyone at the kitchen table was a terrible idea. Dinner was awkward. I really just wanted Bucky and Graham to be in the same room without looking like they wanted to kill each other. Well, okay. I wanted Bucky to not look like he wanted to kill Graham. And I wanted Graham to look at anything other than me and the floor. Maybe they'd never learn to like each other, but if I could get them to tolerate each other, I'd call it a win.
After the first few minutes, I decided it would never happen. Graham was staring at his plate, pretending we weren't there. Bucky was sitting against the wall so he could watch everything, as usual. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were dark. He hardly touched his food at all, and I knew for a fact that he liked pizza.
"One time when I was a kid," Graham started, picking an olive off his slice, "my mom brought this guy home for dinner. It was the first time she'd dated anyone since my dad died. It was a lot like this. Very quiet. Very uncomfortable. Only the roles might have been reversed. Because he obviously wanted me to like him, she wanted me to like him, but I never would. So now I think I know what he felt like. You know—except he probably didn't feel like he was going to be murdered." Bucky glanced at Graham like this was the most obscure thing he'd ever heard. Then his eyes were back on me.
"Um…," I said. "So what happened? To the guy?" Graham shrugged.
"I guess he had a wife or something. Like they were in the process of divorce, but he didn't bother to tell my mom. She was really upset about it. Never saw him again."
"Well—uh—I'm sure you guys have more in common than you think. You're both military. That's something. Kind of." Graham looked up at me.
"It's completely different."
"How is it different?" Bucky asked.
"I'm pretty sure you weren't a Marine." Bucky shook his head. "See? Plus the whole—time period thing. Military was a lot different back then." Bucky froze and gave me another dark look. I shrugged.
"He would have figured it out eventually," I explained.
"You know who I am?" he asked, turning back to Graham.
"She's right. I would have figured it out eventually. My dad was really into Captain America when I was a kid. I mean—I didn't know much about you. But it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure it out." He looked at his plate. "Actually, I never would have figured it out." Bucky cut his eyes to me again.
"Why?"
"He needed to understand the seriousness of the situation," I explained. "If he thought you were some random guy off the street, he wouldn't have cared."
"I might have cared," Graham muttered.
"He didn't understand why we couldn't just take you to a hospital. And I didn't go into detail. I just—casually let him know why it was important to stay quiet."
"You know you're an easy target," Bucky said. "If I'd been sent to kill you, I wouldn't have had to try very hard. Could have made it look like an accident in less than five minutes. You would have been dead the moment you set foot in this house. Maybe sooner."
"What?"
"They know everything about you. They were in your head, in case you've forgotten. They'll know exactly how to get to you again."
"So, what exactly are you implying?"
"I'm saying he's too much of a coincidence. You just happen to find a kid…."
"Twenty-three," Graham whispered. Bucky ignored him.
"...who needs a place to stay? They would have known what you'd do. They could have set you up. You brought him into your home. You're telling him things you shouldn't be telling anyone." I sighed and dropped my slice of pizza back onto the plate. I was suddenly not very hungry anymore.
"I know I'm an easy target," I admitted. "So if they want me, they'll just come get me. They have no reason to set me up with some kid—sorry, twenty-three-year-old—to get into my house. I haven't told him anything they don't already know. And he couldn't have come here hoping to find you because I haven't seen you in months, and they tried very hard to make sure you wouldn't remember me. There's a reason they haven't made a move yet. I'm pretty sure that when they do, they won't try to manipulate me into caring for a kid. They're just going to show up and toss my ass into the back of a van. Do you see what I'm saying?"
"So why aren't you doing anything? Why are you making it so easy for them?"
"What do you want me to do, Buck? You expect me to go back to Stark and hide behind my more powerful friends?"
"Yes, actually."
"Well, I'm not doing that anymore. I tried it that way, and I was goddamn miserable."
"You don't care? You're just going to let them win?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't care if they came charging into the front door right now. Actually, I take that back. I would care. But only because you two are here, and I don't want you to get caught up in my bullshit. But if you weren't, or if I could make sure you both got out okay, I wouldn't even put up a fight. I don't care if they come for me. I don't care what they want. But I'm not going to take a backseat in my own life just because there's a 'possibility' they may come for me." I pushed away from the table and left the kitchen.
After the first few minutes, I decided it would never happen. Graham was staring at his plate, pretending we weren't there. Bucky was sitting against the wall so he could watch everything, as usual. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were dark. He hardly touched his food at all, and I knew for a fact that he liked pizza.
"One time when I was a kid," Graham started, picking an olive off his slice, "my mom brought this guy home for dinner. It was the first time she'd dated anyone since my dad died. It was a lot like this. Very quiet. Very uncomfortable. Only the roles might have been reversed. Because he obviously wanted me to like him, she wanted me to like him, but I never would. So now I think I know what he felt like. You know—except he probably didn't feel like he was going to be murdered." Bucky glanced at Graham like this was the most obscure thing he'd ever heard. Then his eyes were back on me.
"Um…," I said. "So what happened? To the guy?" Graham shrugged.
"I guess he had a wife or something. Like they were in the process of divorce, but he didn't bother to tell my mom. She was really upset about it. Never saw him again."
"Well—uh—I'm sure you guys have more in common than you think. You're both military. That's something. Kind of." Graham looked up at me.
"It's completely different."
"How is it different?" Bucky asked.
"I'm pretty sure you weren't a Marine." Bucky shook his head. "See? Plus the whole—time period thing. Military was a lot different back then." Bucky froze and gave me another dark look. I shrugged.
"He would have figured it out eventually," I explained.
"You know who I am?" he asked, turning back to Graham.
"She's right. I would have figured it out eventually. My dad was really into Captain America when I was a kid. I mean—I didn't know much about you. But it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure it out." He looked at his plate. "Actually, I never would have figured it out." Bucky cut his eyes to me again.
"Why?"
"He needed to understand the seriousness of the situation," I explained. "If he thought you were some random guy off the street, he wouldn't have cared."
"I might have cared," Graham muttered.
"He didn't understand why we couldn't just take you to a hospital. And I didn't go into detail. I just—casually let him know why it was important to stay quiet."
"You know you're an easy target," Bucky said. "If I'd been sent to kill you, I wouldn't have had to try very hard. Could have made it look like an accident in less than five minutes. You would have been dead the moment you set foot in this house. Maybe sooner."
"What?"
"They know everything about you. They were in your head, in case you've forgotten. They'll know exactly how to get to you again."
"So, what exactly are you implying?"
"I'm saying he's too much of a coincidence. You just happen to find a kid…."
"Twenty-three," Graham whispered. Bucky ignored him.
"...who needs a place to stay? They would have known what you'd do. They could have set you up. You brought him into your home. You're telling him things you shouldn't be telling anyone." I sighed and dropped my slice of pizza back onto the plate. I was suddenly not very hungry anymore.
"I know I'm an easy target," I admitted. "So if they want me, they'll just come get me. They have no reason to set me up with some kid—sorry, twenty-three-year-old—to get into my house. I haven't told him anything they don't already know. And he couldn't have come here hoping to find you because I haven't seen you in months, and they tried very hard to make sure you wouldn't remember me. There's a reason they haven't made a move yet. I'm pretty sure that when they do, they won't try to manipulate me into caring for a kid. They're just going to show up and toss my ass into the back of a van. Do you see what I'm saying?"
"So why aren't you doing anything? Why are you making it so easy for them?"
"What do you want me to do, Buck? You expect me to go back to Stark and hide behind my more powerful friends?"
"Yes, actually."
"Well, I'm not doing that anymore. I tried it that way, and I was goddamn miserable."
"You don't care? You're just going to let them win?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't care if they came charging into the front door right now. Actually, I take that back. I would care. But only because you two are here, and I don't want you to get caught up in my bullshit. But if you weren't, or if I could make sure you both got out okay, I wouldn't even put up a fight. I don't care if they come for me. I don't care what they want. But I'm not going to take a backseat in my own life just because there's a 'possibility' they may come for me." I pushed away from the table and left the kitchen.