‹ Prequel: Monster
Sequel: From Darkness

Hell Bound

Thirty-Four

When I returned, Bucky was sitting on the edge of my bed, putting his clothes back on. His back was bare when I walked in, and he was covered in the marks I'd left on his skin the night before. When I'd ridden him until we both shattered. I averted my eyes and went right for the closet. I needed something other than sweats to wear, and I couldn't look at him yet.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm just going to head out for a while. You guys make yourselves at home."

I pulled on some jeans and headed toward the door. But I stopped when I reached it. Even though I couldn't forget the image of him shoving me underwater, the memory of the night before was fresher. He'd held me close and tight. Frequently asking after my well-being on a whispered breath until neither of us could talk anymore. I'd fallen asleep wrapped in his arms. Warm and safe, and comfortable. That was who he truly was. So I turned back around, shuffled to the bed at his side, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Even with the nightmare still churning in my brain, I could feel a pull to him. And I knew he felt it too. But when he lifted his hand to touch me, I slipped away before he could ask any questions.

Doctor Watson was already in her office by the time I got there. She led me in and made me a cup of coffee while I got comfortable on the couch. She handed the small cup over and then sat in the chair before me.

"I assume you had another nightmare," she stated, assembling her notebooks. My fingers were shaking as I took a sip of the scalding coffee. I wasn't sure if it was because of the dream or if I was just nervous talking about it.

"I get them a lot. But—this one was different. It rattled me."

"More so than the others?"

"I just—don't know what to do, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

I tapped my fingers on the side of the cup. I wanted to spill everything. But if she knew I had a fugitive in my house, she'd probably have to tell someone. I had to be careful about my words. No one outside my small group of family and friends knew about my association with Bucky at all. Aside from Hydra. I didn't want to tell her anything, but Sam knew her. He trusted her, and I trusted him. And I needed to get something out, or I'd explode.

"I um," I started, "there's a guy." She opened her notebook and nodded. "I'd actually prefer it if you didn't write anything down."

"No one has access to my notes, Johanna."

"I know, but I'd feel more comfortable without paper involved." She nodded slowly and closed the notebook. Then she set it down on a table and gave me her full attention.

"Is this the man you didn't want to tell me about?" she asked. I nodded.

"Yeah. He—things were already complicated from the start. A real relationship was never an option. So we agreed not to even try. But there was something between us. And we finally decided to worry about it when we had to. So naturally, everything fell apart. Completely imploded more like it." She nodded for me to go on.

"He disappeared for a while," I continued. "But then he came back, and we made it even more complicated. I already knew there were—feelings, I guess. I don't think I was in love with him. I cared about him deeply. And it could have been love, you know? If it hadn't blown up."

"I understand. And what happened when he came back?"

"It made everything worse."

"Made what worse?" I looked down into my small paper cup.

"The feelings, I guess."

"Are you in love with him now, Johanna?"

"I don't know. That's the problem. I've never actually been in love before. I've had dates, and I've had people I liked. Extended relationships even. But never love. So I have no experience to draw from. It hasn't been very long. Every time I think I feel it, my brain reminds me that it requires more time before you can define it accurately. People can't fall in love so quickly."

"Every romance is different. New romances tend to be fun and exciting initially, but those feelings begin to fade after a few months. Sharing a trauma with another person can bring you closer. Which may explain why you felt so deeply so early on. Without calling it love. How long has it been since you met him?" I shook my head.

"I don't know. I haven't calculated the exact time. It was earlier this year. Right after the—stuff happened." I motioned toward the window, and she seemed to understand what I was referring to.

"Time changes how people feel about each other. The feelings fade after a while, especially if there's no guarantee that you'll see that person again. Distance helps people move on. But time and distance can also exacerbate feelings instead of making them fade. It's possible that if they haven't gone away and have only gotten worse, as you put it, perhaps they're genuine. No one can determine that but you and him." I didn't say anything as I looked into the swirling dark coffee. "What kind of conflict is preventing you from being together?" she asked.

"It's like I said—a relationship was never an option. And now I'm starting to think he may have hurt me in the past. Before we even knew each other. It's possible we were connected, and I know he's a different person now. I know he would never hurt me intentionally. But there's a huge possibility that he may have—caused me a great deal of pain. I just don't know how to deal with that."

"You said yourself that a relationship isn't an option."

"That's why it's a problem, I think. I still don't want to let him go."

"Even now that you think he hurt you in the past?" I nodded.

"I don't think he would have wanted to—if he had a choice. It wasn't something he did because he wanted to hurt anyone. It was an order. And as fucked up as this sounds, it just makes me more—sympathetic. It makes me want to protect him." I took a deep breath. "The thing is that—I know it's not going to last. And I don't know if we'll ever see each other again. Let alone when. I don't want to pine for him for the rest of my life, but…."

"You don't want him to leave." I shook my head.

"I don't want him to go. But I know he has to. I want him to know that I care about him and don't blame him for what he did. He could come back—if he ever gets the chance."

"Does he know that he may have hurt you in the past?"

"I don't think so. I couldn't tell him. It would crush him."

"Speaking with him about it may help the both of you. If all else, you'd be able to tell him how you really feel. Even if a relationship isn't an option or you're not quite sure how to name what you feel. It might make you feel less overwhelmed."

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Can I be frank with you?"

"Please?"

"I haven't known you very long, and you rarely speak to me when you do manage to see me. But from what I have seen, you have a tendency to separate yourself from the people you care about. I don't know if it's your way of protecting yourself from being hurt or if you're trying to protect them from getting too close to you. You moved away from your family and refuse to make lasting relationships with anyone outside your small group.

"Now that you have someone you may actually want to keep around, your mind is finding excuses for why it won't work." I drained my cup as she spoke. I hated when people laid into me, but I appreciated that she wasn't being delicate about it. "Even if it's true that you can't be in a relationship at present, for whatever reason, I still think it would benefit you both to be honest about how you feel. Honesty is something you struggle with, Johanna. Most of the time, it's only with yourself. But in this case, you may have to be honest with another person, and that scares you. If you never see him again, and this is really the end for you—you'll heal from that loss much more efficiently if nothing was left unsaid. You may pine for a time, but there won't be any unresolved issues. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it."

"And it may even help with your nightmares. Honesty, even when you're only honest to yourself, can work wonders. You've been trying not to think about the things in your past that hurt you, so they surface in your sleep. Because they no longer have an outlet any other way. If you allow those thoughts to manifest, even the painful ones, even if you have to cry and rage, they may begin to work toward a resolution. You'll be able to separate yourself from the guilt and blame. Or at least find a way to work through it more positively." I nodded again but still didn't look at her. "And it might benefit you to stop skipping meetings with me." I laughed.

"When were we supposed to meet next?" She picked up a schedule off her desk and flipped through the pages.

"Well, Johanna. That's the problem. You said you'd make the appointments when it was convenient for you but at no set time. And then you don't call."

"Ugh, that sounds like me."

"How about you come and see me on Tuesdays? Regularly. I'm almost booked solid on Tuesday, but I have an opening from eight to nine-thirty. You're off on Tuesdays, right?" She looked up at me.

"Yeah, that would be perfect."

"Great. Then I'll get you penciled in." She scribbled it in her notebook, and I glanced at the clock. She said she had a meeting at nine, and it was almost nine.

"I'd better let you get ready for your meeting. I'm sorry for bothering you again," I told her as I stood up and reached for my bag.

"No, no. Don't apologize. Like I said, I like to keep my mornings open for this very reason. I'm glad we had a chance to talk." She stood up to walk me out, but she put her hand on my shoulder when I reached the door. "Can I ask you one more question before you go?"

"Yeah, of course."

"You called me because you had another nightmare. I assume it's related to what we discussed. What is it that has you so rattled?" I bit my lip and took a deep breath.

"I saw him this time."

"Is this what makes you think he caused you pain in the past?"

"Yeah." She nodded thoughtfully, looking away at the wall before speaking.

"Dreams are just dreams, Johanna. Don't let them get to you. The ability to recall things exactly as they happened is an uncommon skill. And it never manifests in dreams. It's possible that what you're seeing is close to reality, but it will never be exact. Memories just don't work that way, especially in your subconscious. When we're struggling to work through things, our dreams sometimes bring up bad memories, but they change what we see to fit our current situation. You can't take your dreams as fact and allow them to control your life. It's very possible, and very likely, that what you've seen isn't real at all." I didn't know what to say to that. So I just nodded and headed out.