From Darkness

We slept on the floor. Well, at least I did. Bucky leaned against a wall and set the pillow down on his lap. He insisted that we slept like that even though I knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep, but he said he’d be fine and I was too exhausted to argue with him. I laid down just like that and was out in minutes. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I discovered that he’d taken off his jacket and draped it over me. He was dozing with his head back against the wall. As soon as I shifted to roll onto my other side, his eyes shot open, and he looked down at me.

“You didn’t have to give me your jacket,” I muttered, though I was a lot warmer now.

“You were cold,” he stated.

“You weren’t?”

“Cold doesn’t bother me.”

“You could lie down with me. Pillow’s small, but I’ve slept on your arm before.” I felt his fingers in my hair. I shut my eyes again.

“I’m more comfortable like this.”

“Always on watch.”

“Always.” I hugged his thigh closer. “Are you comfortable at least?”

“I sleep better this way.”

“Me too.”

He continued to play with my hair until the drowsiness set back in. I had one of his legs on either side of my body. My head on the pillow in his lap, and my arm wrapped around his thigh. He was warm so that only my legs were cold. Even though the floor was hard and made my shoulders ache, I didn’t want to move.

“Jo?” he asked after a while.

“Mm?” I replied.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For not being able to give you what you deserve.”

“I hate it when people say that.”

“Why?”

“We’re both just trying to survive. It’s not about what one person deserves. This isn’t about providing for me. We help each other. We do the best we can with what we have.” He took a deep breath and sighed. I could feel him relax again. He leaned back against the wall, and his hand stopped moving through my hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“For what?”

“Not getting the gun out of your hand fast enough. I could have. I should have.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Doesn’t matter. I had the chance, and I didn’t take it. I thought it would be better to let you think you had control. I wanted you to trust me. I made a mistake.” My chest felt heavy again. I squeezed his leg tighter, desperate to let it go before it overwhelmed me again.

“Please don’t try to take the blame for this, too,” I begged.

“You’re miserable. I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice.”

“I’m grieving, Bucky.”

“You wouldn’t be grieving if I’d just done what I should have. I know you. You’re trying to blame yourself, and it’s not your fault.”

“That doesn’t mean you should shoulder the blame for me. I don’t want to blame you. I have no reason to.”

“After everything that’s happened, I still can’t figure out why you don’t.”

“I hated you,” I admitted. “When I was in that place. After I saw—Beata—I wanted to blame you for it. But—I knew that’s what they wanted. They were trying to manipulate me into channeling my hatred into you. But it wasn’t you. Not turning my gun on you was my only act of defiance. She could have made me do it. She gave me the freedom to make a choice, and sometimes I wanted to. But I knew if I did, I’d be letting them win. I didn’t want vengeance. And when I saw you again, and my mind cleared, I felt—hope.”

“Why?”

“Russell—Ivan—told me that if he could go back and change one thing with Beata, it would be that he didn’t waste any of the time they had together. Hating you, being angry at you for something that was out of your control would be hypocritical. And it wouldn’t change anything. It would just be a waste of time.” He moved his hand over my head again.

“I understand,” he said.