From Darkness

One day when I was having lunch with Elena, Bucky came home early. I heard him in the front hall when he came in. He shouted my name before the door burst open. He didn’t even seem to care that he’d called me “Jo” and not “Ioana” like she thought my name was. Elena and I were sitting at the table. We were just talking about one of her recently vacated apartments and what she wanted to be cleaned up when we heard him. He stepped into the small room, and I stood slowly.

“Hey, you’re back early,” I remarked.

“You haven’t heard,” he stated. I glanced back at Elena, but she looked just as lost as I did. I’d been helping her in her own apartment all day, so we didn’t have the radio or TV going. She’d been helping me practice my Romanian.

“We’ve been pretty busy all day. This is the first break we’ve been able to catch.” He crossed into the living room to her small TV set. He knelt down in front of it and switched it on. Then he stepped back. He never even had to search for the channel he wanted. It came right on. Elena and I both went to his side.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Sokovia,” he said. I glanced at him. He looked back and held my gaze. “The Avengers.” I turned back to Elena.

“I think we’re going to finish lunch upstairs. Is that okay?” She waved me off, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Take the whole day,” she decided.

Bucky grasped my hand and pulled me toward the door. We didn’t even say goodbye. We just rushed right out and hurried up the stairs to the top floor.

“What the hell is going on?” I whispered once he got the door locked behind me. He shook his head once.

“I don’t know,” he replied, moving into the apartment. I followed after him.

“You know it’s in Sokovia.”

“It’s not in Sokovia. It IS Sokovia.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s happening. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. To be fair, it wouldn’t be the most bizarre thing I’ve seen in the past seventy years.” He lifted the floorboard where he kept his backpack hidden. Then he jumped up and looked around the apartment.

“Enlighten me,” I said.

“The city is,” then he pointed toward the ceiling, “air born.” I shook my head as he found what he’d been looking for. One of his notebooks left abandoned on top of the fridge under a pile of his uneaten candy bars. He had a tendency to leave them scattered throughout the apartment. Both the notebooks and the candy. He stuffed it into his backpack.

“I’m not following.” He looked up and gave me a small sigh of defeat.

“I don’t think anyone is, to be completely honest.”

“Then why are you packing your stuff?”

“I’m not packing. I’m just—preparing.”

“For what?”

“For the possibility of complete global annihilation? I don’t know.” I shook my head again.

“What exactly do you think is going to happen?”

“The higher things go, the harder they fall. A chunk of rock that big has the potential to wipe Europe off the map. If we’re lucky. Worst case scenario is…”

“Total global annihilation.”

“Yes.”

“I’m still not following.”

“It’s….”

“No, I got the ‘what goes up must come down’ thing. I still don’t understand why you’re packing. You honestly don’t think we can outrun it.” He sighed.

“The Avengers are already on it. So we have good reason to hope for the best. Maybe they’ll find a way to stop it before it destroys everything, or maybe they’ll only be able to save one-half of the planet. If we die—I’d rather have my shit buried in rubble than in the hands of my enemies.”

“So you’re worried—that someone will know things about you—even when you’re dead?”

“I feel like I have to do something, Jo. Otherwise, we sit here and wait for death or an all-clear, and I’m not ready to do that again. I don’t like doing nothing.” I nodded.

“Right.”

“You’re surprisingly calm for someone who’s potentially facing the end of the world.” I shrugged.

“I’m more of a ‘lie down and accept defeat’ kind of person myself.”

“No, you aren’t,” he said. Then he slid the floorboard back over his hiding place and stood. “But you’re definitely an ‘I’ll panic after the fact’ kind of person.” I nodded again.

“That’s fair,” I agreed. “So what do we do? Try to pass the time while we wait to die?”

“I don’t know. But if this is really the end—I don’t want to spend my last moments on earth teaching my girlfriend Romanian in a shithole apartment. And we sure as hell can’t leave. This sort of thing usually results in chaos and looting.”

He called me his girlfriend. Once or twice I’d heard him call me his wife. But only in front of other people. It was a lie. This was a truth. He’d said it sincerely. Just to me. He actually considered me his girlfriend. Why did that make me feel so stupidly giddy?

“What else is there? It’s not like we have a lot of options.” He looked around the apartment before focusing on the mattress under the window. We’d acquired a few more pieces of furniture, but not much.

“We can have sex,” he said, turning back to me. He’d never been so blunt before. Usually, it happened without us saying much of anything beyond “please?” and “more.” Except for the times he’d ask to join me in the shower, and I knew damn well he wasn’t asking to conserve water.

“Wow, Barnes, you sure know how to make a girl swoon,” I remarked. He smiled and looked at the floor.

“If we’re going to die today,” he said quietly, “I want to spend my last moments with you. In my arms.”

“Alright. You did better the second time around.” He moved to me and slid his arm under my legs and the other around my back. He lifted me and carried me to bed.

“Well then. I guess we’ll have to do it twice.”

“Potential global annihilation does have a remarkable effect on my recovery rate.” He deposited me on the bed and then pressed his body against mine. His lips found mine for just a moment before he lifted his head again. His expression went serious.

“Are you scared?” he asked me. I shook my head and held his face in my hands.

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Why not?”

“I think—because I’m with you.” He kissed me again. “Plus,” I added as he trailed his lips down my neck. “Short-term goals are still something to look forward to.” He pulled away, this time looking curious instead of serious.

“What’s your short-term goal?” he questioned. I leaned in to kiss him.

“To make you moan my name again.” He smiled and filled the space between us.

“It’s one of your many talents,” he decided.