Hell Bound

Even though I trusted Bucky was telling the truth when he said he'd stay, I was still eager for the day to end. I just tried not to rush anyone, and I still felt guilty for doing it to them the day before. So I let the meeting take its natural course before Graham and I hurried to get packed up and out to the parking structure.

Just like before, we passed my therapist on the way out. I made a quick promise to set up an appointment with her, and then we ran for my car. But as we were both getting our seatbelts on, something dawned on me, and I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it before.

"Wait, we both see the same doctor?" I asked Graham once we were on our way.

"Yeah. Is that weird?" he replied.

"When was the last time you saw her?" He shrugged.

"I dunno. Like a week ago?"

"She didn't know that you didn't have a place to stay?"

"I didn't tell her."

"Well—that's dumb. She could have helped you. But—are you cool with keeping things from her?" He looked at me and took a second to grasp what I was really asking.

"I won't tell her about him. Or anything. We don't usually talk anyway. I usually just tell her about my books, and she occasionally asks how I'm dealing with things. It's all very dull."

"It's just that—while I am very pro therapy—and I think it's important that you have someone to talk to. I uh…."

"It's cool. You don't want anyone to know about him."

"It's not just that, though—My last therapist worked for SHIELD. Well, it turned out that she was actually working for Hydra. I spent years of my life developing a relationship with this woman, just for her to be the bad guy, you know? And I mean—not everyone worked for Hydra, but she did. And apparently, she had no trouble feeding information about me and other people right to them. And the fact that she knew me so—intimately—it really messed with my head. For all I know, Hydra knows everything about me. And it's been hard to trust anyone after that."

"I won't tell her, I promise. Besides, it's not like I'm alone anymore anyway. I have someone to talk to now."

He was gazing out of the window and didn't notice me wince. I didn't want the responsibility of filling in for his therapist. I wasn't even sure I was doing a good job at these meetings. And now he was living in my house, depending on me for more than just food and shelter. I could handle the physical dependence because it'd be easier to bounce back if he lost it. The emotional dependence could leave lasting scars I'd never be able to heal. And I hated that I was asking him to keep information from the one person who was actually qualified to help him with that.

"Yeah," I said anyway. "You can tell me anything."

"Her name was Janey. I always thought it was weird. I thought her name was like Jane, and everyone just called her Janey. But it wasn't. It was her legal name."

"It's a pretty name."

"We were kind of the underdogs, so we stuck together. I was there when she died. It was the same explosion that almost took off my leg. It happened so fast that I didn't even know she was dead until I woke up after surgery. Now I have this stupid bum knee to remind me every day."

"I'm so sorry, Graham."

"That's why I told you not to be dumb about Bucky. Sometimes it's hard to admit things, but you know—it's harder to tell someone how you feel when they're dead."

"That's a pretty sound piece of advice."

"Meh." He shrugged again, bottling it all back up. He had his arm resting on the door as he looked out at passing city lights.

"Can I ask you a question?" I spoke after a few minutes of silence.

"Sure." He still didn't look at me.

"Did you love her?" He took a long moment to answer.

"Yeah, and the worst part is—I think she loved me too."

"Would it have made it easier? If she didn't?" He thought about this for a long time before finally shaking his head.

"No."

When we got home, we found Bucky on the couch. He was leaning against the back, looking more uncomfortable than he had just that morning. He didn't seem to be watching TV or resting at all. He looked like he was in pain. I dropped my bag on the floor as Graham got the door shut. Then I stepped between Bucky and the coffee table.

"What did you do?" I asked. He had his hand over the stitches on his stomach. I still hadn't given him a shirt, so he was sitting perfectly still. Bare-chested. Looking like a god in the golden hour sunlight. He moved his hand away to show me the dark smear of blood. "What happened?" I sat down to examine them.

"I went to the kitchen," he lied.

"Bullshit. Tell me the truth." I looked back up. His jaw was clenched tight.

"I'll go get the first-aid kit," Graham said. Then he disappeared down the hall, taking his cue.

"You said you wouldn't leave," I reminded Bucky.

"I never said that. I said I'd be here when you got back." I groaned.

"You're not ready to leave, do you understand? I know you're probably bored out of your mind, but you won't be able to defend yourself as easily out there."

"It's not about defending myself. It's—time-sensitive. I can't afford to take time off." I reached up to cup his face in my hand. His jaw was still tense, but he seemed to relax when he looked down at me.

"You have to heal. Healing is time sensitive too. I need you here." He dropped his head onto the back of the couch and pinched his eyes shut.

"I went back for my backpack," he admitted. "And I was going to try and fix the mirror."

"Don't worry about the mirror. It's an easy fix. But it's not time-sensitive. And I didn't know you had a backpack."

"I dropped it in the yard when I came over the fence. I didn't know what to expect here."

The bag in question was tucked between the couch and the armchair. Just within reach. Since he hadn't shown up dirty, unshaved, and gross, I figured he must have had supplies somewhere. But he was still wearing the sweats I'd given him and nothing else. That I knew of.

And okay, I did know because I looked.

"I have the next few days off. It'll give you time to recover, and we can talk about whatever it is you're so eager to get back to, okay?" He didn't answer. Graham clunked back into the living room, and I moved away to get the first-aid kit. "Thanks," I said, sitting down on the coffee table.

"No worries," he said. He turned back toward the kitchen, motioning with his hands. "I'm gonna—go see if there's anything I can make for dinner. I can make things like—chicken nuggets. Maybe boil some noodles." I nodded slowly, and he turned and fled.

Once he was gone, I moved toward Bucky again. I set my knee between his legs and leaned my elbow on the couch. I ran my fingers over his scruffy face. He didn't open his eyes, but he moved his head to the side, leaning into my hand. He seemed comfortable just feeling me there. I wanted to kiss him again, but I was still upset that he'd tried to leave already.

"Hey," I whispered. "Give me time. Please?" His eyes opened, and he nodded slowly.

"They're coming for you," he told me. "They're going to take—everything from you. I can't let them do to you what they did to me."

"Buck…," I started with a sigh. But then I couldn't find the words. So I moved away and reached for the kit. I needed to fix the stitches that he'd ripped. There was blood to clean up. I wanted to care that they seemed to be after me. But I didn't seem capable of talking about it. I didn't want to hide from it, but I didn't think talking would bring us any closer to answers. Or stopping them.

"You need to take it easy for at least a week," I explained. "That would be my usual recommendation. I can't say for a wound that deep on someone with accelerated healing. I'll know when I see it improving."

He wrapped his hand around my wrist as I reached for something to clean up the blood with. Then he leaned forward, squinting from the pain of the movement. He didn't stop until his face was an inch from mine. My breath caught, and he glanced at my lips. I almost thought he was going to kiss me. But his lips were still pinched. Not from pain but determination. He didn't look happy.

"We need to talk about it," he said. "Time-sensitive." I nodded.

"We will, Bucky. But there isn't much we can do right now." I slipped out of his grasp and got to work.