From Darkness

I was reluctant to tell Bucky about Barton when I got home later. I'd spent most of the afternoon cleaning out a vacant apartment for Elena, but she sensed that my mind was wandering and told me to take the rest of the day off. She sent me home with our dinner all packed up into little tubs, and then I went home, anxious and nervous about what was coming for us.

I headed into the bathroom to clean up after working all day and caught sight of myself in the mirror. Barton said I didn't look too good but barely thought about it when he said it. He'd never met me in person before. How the hell did he know what I was supposed to look like? But he wasn't wrong. My hair had grown longer, and it was just as messy and tangled as ever. But my cheeks still looked hollow. My eyes were just a little too tired. I'd put weight back on. But I could still see the sharp jut of my ribs beneath my shirt. The shirt wasn't even that tight. I was sure Bucky noticed too. He always did. But maybe he was doing what I was. Avoiding it.

He always went to Elena's first just to check if I was there. We usually walked up together. So I wasn't surprised when he was a little late getting home. She liked to talk and hold us up. But I was still worried.

What if Barton went back on his deal? He never outright promised not to say anything about Bucky. He said he'd keep my secret safe, but that's it. What if they got Bucky while he was working in the market? What if he just never came home?

I was so deep in thought that I was startled when I heard the key in the door. It popped open, and I heard his footsteps on the floor. I was curled up on the small couch we'd gotten, worried and anxious about multiple things now.

"Jo?" he said, eyes on me. He set his keys and wallet on the table and took the seat beside me, plopping down on the too-small loveseat. I put my chin on my knees and stared at the far wall where I'd left a pile of clothes abandoned on the floor.

"Elena said you seemed distracted," he mentioned. I nodded slowly.

I wasn't sure if I should tell him. He'd panic and insist we find a new place to live. He'd talked about Vienna already. But I wasn't ready to leave Romania. I didn't see the point in running again if we were safe and happy here. I didn't want to be uprooted again. To have to learn another new language and find new work. We were lucky with Elena. It wouldn't happen again.

But we did promise to be honest with one another. Maybe we still had a habit of shouldering our own burdens, but he deserved to know. He'd be angry with me if he found out I kept it from him. So I turned toward him and tucked my feet under his warm thigh. He had his arm stretched out over the back of the couch. He was obviously waiting for me to say something.

"I ran into someone today," I told him. His eyebrows rose.

"It didn't—happen again, did it?" I shook my head quickly.

"No, no. Nothing like that. Just—before I tell you, I want you to know that we're still safe. Please trust me."

"I do trust you." I took a deep breath.

"Barton found me." He was quiet for two clicks.

"Barton," he echoed.

"Clint Barton. He's an Avenger."

"I know who he is." His voice had gone deeply monotonous again. I hated it when he sounded like that. As if it was a reflection of the Soldier or at least the training he'd undergone to become the Soldier. Wear a mask, don't show your emotions, don't let anyone read you. Including me.

"He was here investigating what happened on the bus. Alone. He wasn't looking for us. He saw me by accident and followed me to the bakery where I was picking up Elena's bread."

"After you left the market." I bit my lip and nodded.

"Yes."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that I got away, spent time in Belarus before moving to Vienna, and then here."

"Why did you tell him?"

"So he'd leave us alone," I admitted. "I told him I was responsible for what happened on the bus and that I needed to stay away from everyone else, so they don't end up the same way."

"You told him everything?"

"Not everything. I didn't tell him about you."

"If he saw you in the market…."

"He knows enough. But he knows I have a good reason." He moved off of the couch quickly and fluidly, just like I expected.

"You should have told me sooner," he said. "We need to leave." He went to the kitchen to get the backpack he'd stored under the floorboards.

"Bucky," I said, hurrying to stand and follow him. "He's not going to tell anyone we're here." He spun back around.

"And why the hell wouldn't he?"

"Because I asked him not to."

"And you trust him? You don't even know him."

"I do trust him because Barton has a record for making his own calls. He knows that I can't go back there. I trust him to make the right call."

"What is the right call exactly? Because his friends will come here and take you away if they even suspect that you're here." He didn't say anything about himself. He wasn't worried about that. Only worried that they'd take me from him. Further proof that he was avoiding admitting something was wrong with me. Because if I was sick—I would have no choice but to go. I took another deep breath.

"Barton and I both worked for SHIELD. Do you know how many complaints I had to file about him? He always makes his own calls, but he was also invaluable, and Fury never called him out on it. Fury trusted him to do the right thing. How the hell do you think Romanoff managed to get into SHIELD after everything she did? It wasn't out of the kindness of Fury's heart. It was Barton."

"It's different."

"How so?"

"I don't know. It just is."

He was getting angry. I knew there'd come a time when he got angry at me. Just because that was something I expected from any relationship where people had to cohabitate. Bucky and I got along surprisingly well for two people with the temperament of wolverines.

"Just trust me. Please?" I tried. He turned back to me, and I could see the fire in his eyes. His lips were pinched, and his jaw was tight. There was nothing but emotion on his face now. No hint of a mask anywhere. Which meant he was either so angry he'd reached the point where he could no longer control it. Or he wanted me to know he was angry.

"Of course I trust you," he said slowly. "But you don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to blindly trusting others." I scoffed. Now he'd offended me, and I was pretty sure he did it on purpose.

"I don't blindly trust people." His eyes went wide.

"You let a strange homeless kid live in your house, Jo. Your last boyfriend was one of Rumlow's right-hand men. For God's sake, you let me stay with you, and I was a wanted goddamn assassin."

"Okay, Oscar was a mistake. I told you that. I admitted that. But you and Graham were different. I saw something good in both of you."

"I threw you against a counter the first night I was in your house. I put bruises on you before you ever even told me your name."

"You were scared and confused. It wasn't your fault." He ran his hands through his hair and swore. I wasn't entirely sure what words he'd chosen since it was Russian, but it was undoubtedly a curse word.

"You have to stop putting so much faith in people," he said.

"Maybe you should try putting some faith in people. I trusted you, and now look where I am." Now he looked offended, but I definitely didn't mean it. He misunderstood what I meant. "I'm happy," I clarified. "With you." He turned away.

"That's exactly why we shouldn't trust Barton."

"What do you mean?" He turned back around to face me. The anger had faded from his eyes. He was worried.

"If they come for me, they're probably not going to take me alive," he explained slowly. His voice was full of emotion now. "I can't leave you here on your own."

"Steve won't let them hurt you," I tried. He shook his head.

"Even if that's true, you think we'll ever see each other again? If they take you away, they're going to lock you up. They'll lock me up. I won't let you go without a fight. I already made that mistake once before. It's very likely we'll never see each other again."

"I have hope." He took a step toward me and took my face in his hands. He ran a thumb over my cheekbone.

"I don't want to lose you," he said. "I don't want to lose this." I wrapped my arms around his chest, and he rested his chin on the top of my head.

"I don't want to lose this either," I admitted. "But I don't want to have to start over somewhere else. If Barton sticks to what he said—then he can easily throw the rest of the Avengers off our trail. If there's ever a reason for them to come back here, he'll make sure they don't find us."

"And you really trust him not to out us?" he asked.

"I do." He sighed in defeat.

"Then I trust your judgment."

"No, you don't." He laughed. It made no sound, but I could feel it in his chest.

"I'm putting my faith in you," he insisted. "We'll just have to be more vigilant. Keep our heads low. Less time out in the open. We've gotten careless."

"As much as I hate being locked up indoors all the time, I agree. We'll keep it on the DL."

"I don't know what that means."

"You get my gist." He kissed the top of my head.

"I trust you."

It was nice to hear him say it. I sighed against his chest and kept my fingers locked around his back. I never thought I'd want something like this. I always thought I just didn't get along with people well enough for this to be a possibility. But now that I had it, and I had him, I didn't want to lose it. I just had to hope my gut instincts were correct. If Barton turned on us—I'd lose the only thing that ever made me truly happy.