Latent Truths - Chapter 2 - Indygodusk

When Bucky got home from work, he only meant to sit down on the couch for a minute, but Steve was sitting in the chair by the open window sketching peacefully, suspenders down around her waist, white shirt billowing in the warm breeze, collar unbuttoned to show the hollow of her throat, and the rays of the setting sun reaching in like the fingers of Midas, turning her to gold. She looked like a goddess. Bucky was warm and the couch was soft and his eyes got too heavy to keep open.

In his dream, Bucky padded through a blue forest, vibrant and exotic, especially for a city boy. Something wonderful was waiting for him just past the next tree, but it kept darting away just before he got there. The closest he got was a brush of soft fur on the tips of his fingers.

When he woke up, Steve had turned her back to the dark window and was now sketching him by the light of her lamp. He blinked lazily and stretched. She met his eyes and gave him an enigmatic smile, but for the first time, Bucky felt a warm wash of emotion accompanying that smile, a mixture of indulgence and feminine appreciation. They weren't his feelings. They were Stevie's. It felt amazing, transcendent, safety and overwhelming, rocksteady loyalty and love, so much love. Bucky felt humbled.

A transparent white wolf was lying across his shins, but Bucky wasn't afraid. The wolf had to be his spirit friend. A regal nod of the wolf's head let him know the thought was correct. Peace and contentment suffused his soul.

Bucky remembered hushed family secrets told long ago by his father before he turned into a mean old drunk, stories about his grandfather who could sense emotions and had an animal friend that would visit from the astral plane, a spirit that only other Gifted could see. Spirit animals weren't common knowledge, since even Stevie hadn't been able to find out about them during her brief fascination with Sentinels during school.

The Guide gift had been passed down to at least one child in the Barnes family for hundreds of years, going all the way back to when they were still the Barn family, which was Old Norse for young warrior. Then inexplicably Bucky's father and almost all of the other children born to families known for faithfully producing Sentinels and Guides turned out mundane. By the start of the twentieth century, the Gifted the world over had almost all disappeared. His father's bitterness over being cheated of his legacy had been too great to speak of it often and Bucky hadn't listened closely since he didn't think he'd ever come Online. He regretted that now.

Nevertheless, the evidence seemed clear. Bucky seeing a spirit animal and feeling Stevie's emotions had to mean he was a latent Guide starting to come Online. They'd said in school that such gifts, while rare, usually showed up in young adults. Some people came Online all at once. Others could go years with only the occasional flicker of their gift manifesting. There was even the chance he'd always be latent and never come fully Online, living most of his life as a sensitive.

However, if he'd always been a latent Guide, it would explain his ability to read people and know just how to charm them. It would explain his strange instincts. And it would explain the bone deep certainty Bucky had felt from the first moment he'd seen a young Stevie taking a punch to the face and not falling down, the certainty that this girl was his to protect and follow. That she was his, full stop.

The truth became clear: Stevie was meant to be his Sentinel and Bucky was meant to be her Guide.

Bucky lost the ability to speak as he locked gazes with Stevie and had his life-altering epiphany. Bemused by his uncharacteristic silence and intensity, Stevie tilted her head to the side in a silent question. When he opened and closed his mouth in silence before shrugging, still unable to put his feelings into words, she gave him a gentle smile and returned to her sketching. Curiosity, patience, and affection curled through the room and around his shoulders like a beloved pet, bringing tears to his eyes at the beauty and perfection of her mind. A pressure on his mind he hadn't even noticed until it was gone had disappeared, as if she were shielding him somehow.

All too soon, the warm weight of the white wolf on his legs dissipated as the animal faded away back to the blue forest of his dream. His window into Stevie's emotions faded with it, leaving him once more alone in his mind and strangely vulnerable. Bucky felt an ache, as if the brief touch of Stevie's energy had created an empty space in his soul that hurt when she wasn't there to fill it.

"You okay there, Buck?" Stevie asked gently.

It reminded him that if he was starting to come Online, it should only be a matter of time before his Sentinel followed, allowing them to bond spiritually, emotionally, and physically. This strange new emptiness would stop then and Stevie would finally have to see that he was good enough for her, that they were meant to be more than just friends and closer than just spouses. The thought made him smile. "I'm perfect," he said, and he was. That moment, that day, it was all perfect.

But no matter how long and patiently Bucky waited, or the random and sometimes uncomfortable flickers of emotion he got from people on the street proving that he hadn't imagined it, that he really was a Latent Guide on the cusp of coming Online, no matter how many headaches he forced himself to ignore, no matter how many of his Ma's Anglican Prayers or, copying Steve, Catholic Hail Mary's Bucky said… Stevie didn't present as a Sentinel with enhanced senses and a need to bond with her waiting Guide named Bucky.

In fact, after the cycle of fevers that winter, instead of her senses getting better, Steve's eyesight and hearing seemed to be getting worse, along with her asthma. Each spring it seemed to take Steve longer to recover her health. It was something they both recognized but didn't speak about. Bucky didn't know how to help. Steve's temper got shorter and everything seemed to make her angry. Bucky's own mood became dark.

World events kept getting darker and more dangerous too. War had broken out in Europe. Germany had started by invading Poland and hadn't really slowed down their bullying since. The Japanese Empire also seemed more aggressive with every news cycle. Countries around the world were raising armies, including the US.

Work at the docks had kicked into high gear in response. Longer hours meant more money, but it also left him more exhausted and raised the risk of injury. He rarely had time to go dancing anymore and his good time girls had all drifted off to greener pastures, finally accepting that he would never commit to anything more serious. Unless he found a dame content to play second fiddle to Steve in his life, or Stevie took pity on him and let him marry her, he'd probably spend the rest of his life as a bachelor, though playboy bachelor wasn't such a bad title, at the end of the day.

Of course, the current heat wave just made everything seem harder. He and Steve had been forced to sleep out on the fire escape to keep from melting inside their roasting hot apartment. Waking up with Stevie's sweet little body pressed so close was tempting him something awful. So far he'd kept all his body parts and inappropriate thoughts to himself, but at this point he should be nominated for sainthood.

His Guide gift blinking on and off didn't help either. Getting flashes of Steve's own attraction to him was the worst kind of tease. Just because she dressed like a boy didn't mean he couldn't see how gorgeous she was or that he didn't love her more than ever. However, when he tried to do something about it, it always went wrong. His flirtations got ignored, misunderstood, or shot down as annoying teasing. It drove him crazy.

Bucky tried to hide the strain of it all, but there were only so many cigarettes one could smoke before the chemical relaxation of nicotine just wasn't enough. Unfortunately, even Steve wasn't dense enough to overlook Bucky's problems forever. Since Steve refused to comprehend that Bucky's love wasn't platonic, and talking about his little latent Guide problem could only make things worse, he started throwing other excuses at her. Bucky took to complaining about his bad work conditions and the looming threat of war instead. It worked at first, but then Steve started getting even more worked up about it all than he ever had.

Steve had a bit of an anger problem.

He hadn't realized just how passionate she'd gotten about making a difference against Germany, the great bully of Europe, until he found out she'd applied to two foreign aid services and tried to enlist in the army as a man. They all rejected her application. For once he was actually grateful for her bad health. Of course, this put Steve in a foul mood.

To make up for it, she turned the full focus of her attention back on solving Bucky's problems. She'd tricked him into admitting that it wasn't his work on the docks or world events that had him tied up in knots. It all went downhill from there. From the second he entered their apartment after work to the moment he left the next morning, Steve badgered Bucky to talk about his feelings. It was all the hassle of having a wife without any of the perks. Like a dog with a bone, Steve just wouldn't quit.

One blistering hot summer evening he just couldn't take it anymore. Even though they'd just finished dinner, he slammed back from the table, announced, "I'm going to bed," and crawled right out onto the fire escape.

Setting her jaw, Steve followed on his heels right over the windowsill. "Stop running away! Just tell me what's going on so I can help."

Bucky threw his hands in the air. "Give it a rest already! Knowing the problem isn't going to help!"

Steve crossed her arms. "You don't know how much help I can give unless you tell me the problem," she insisted doggedly, staring him down. The look in her eyes was a mix between an adorable puppy at the pet store and a dangerous hunting dog about to bite down. Either way, there was no escaping that look.

Swearing, Bucky lit a cigarette and took a long drag, making sure to blow the smoke away from Steve so as not to aggravate her asthma.

Steve stared harder and then sat down pointedly on the fire escape. Adorable, dangerous, and irresistible. Quitting wasn't in her vocabulary.

Bucky wiped the sweat off his brown and tried one last excuse. "Look, it's not as bad as you're thinking."

"You didn't get some poor girl pregnant?" Steve asked evenly.

"What!? No!" Bucky choked.

"You didn't kill somebody and forget to hide the body?"

Lips going thin, Bucky glared. "Steve. No."

"Then you're right, it's not as bad as I was thinking," she leaned back on her hands and smirked evilly.

Bucky scowled. "You're a punk."

"So? What is the big secret?" Steve cajoled, tilting her head to the side winsomely.

Tipping his head back to look at the pinprick of stars just starting to appear out of the dusk, Bucky took a final drag of his cigarette. He nervously tapped it on the railing three times and then tossed it away. Talking about this was a bad idea, but he just couldn't resist her anymore.

The family in the rooms to the left was gone on vacation to the country. The baby crying in the apartment below let him know they were too distracted to be eavesdropping. The nearby windows and fire escapes looked empty, but he didn't want to be overheard. He'd have to keep his voice down. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and then just spit it out, "I'm a Latent Guide."

After a beat of silence, Steve barked an incredulous laugh and brushed a bead of sweat off her temple with the back of her hand. "That's not funny. C'mon, what's the real problem?"

Bucky pressed his lips tight and shot her an angry look. "I told you." Steve flinched in shock and shrank in on herself. She didn't ask Bucky to repeat himself again. Looking down, Bucky fingered the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, but didn't pull one out.

The silence stretched.

When he finally looked back over, Steve had gone as pale as winter grass. "Well… congratulations, I guess," she said in a suspiciously even tone of voice.

"I don't want your congratulations," Bucky growled, temper firing.

An obviously forced smile appeared on Steve's face. "You're my friend. Of course I'd say congratulations."

Bucky hated the fake smile. He wanted to pull her into a headlock and grind his knuckles into her head until she started shrieking at him instead, until she stopped lying with her face and just said something honest and selfish, said what he really wanted to hear. "Never mind," he snapped, starting to turn away, half-considering taking the ladder down to the ground and wandering off somewhere until her lack of understanding didn't make his heart hurt so much.

Taking a quick breath, Steve leaned forward. "No, wait," she said earnestly. "This'll be great for you. Being a," she lowered her voice, "a Guide, even just a latent, is a guaranteed meal ticket. It's a chance at a better life and a way to make a difference. The work's got to be easier and safer than what you do at the docks."

She swallowed and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, no longer looking him in the face. "When are you thinking about registering? You could get in trouble if you don't do it soon."

Wrapping his hands around the metal of the fire escape, Bucky squeezed hard. "Does it look like I care about trouble? I'm not going to register. I'm Latent. There's no way to prove someone's latent or a sensitive. Besides, once registered, the government owns you. They send you away and make you partner with a military Sentinel of their choosing. It doesn't matter if you're latent and not able to bond or do whatever else it is Guides have to do for Sentinels. It's practically slavery. Plus, I might never see you again."

Face solemn, Steve quietly argued, "It doesn't have to be like that. It might be good. They'll guarantee you a better life. More food. No longer having to work yourself to death. Maybe even a chance to finish your schooling, if you wanted that. I don't want to be the one holding you back." Bucky sent her an angry look—he hated when she got self-sacrificing—but Steve ignored it and kept on doggedly arguing. "Of course I'll… I'll miss you, but I'll be fine. My art's making more money now. This is your chance, Bucky. You should take it. With how few gifted there are anymore, you could make a real difference in the world. Plus, joining up will give you the best chance of meeting and bonding with the Sentinel meant specifically for you. Whomever your Sentinel is, I'm sure they're going to be amazing."

Bucky wrung the metal pipe between his fingers in lieu of her neck. Sweat dripped off the ends of his hair and disappeared into the dark alley below. "Of course they're amazing," he snarled, "but I'm not going anywhere because I don't need the government to help me find them. I've already found my idiot latent Sentinel."

If possible, Steve curled up into an even tighter ball of misery as she focused on her knees and asked on a puff of air, "Oh? That's—that's great. Who?"

She looked ill. If she passed out on him now or excused herself to be sick inside, he was going to give her something to really puke about. There was a new roller coaster at the fair that would work perfectly.

"You stupid punk, who do you think it is?" Bucky sent her a scornful look and took a step forward until he was staring straight down at her on the narrow fire escape. The hot, still air made his skin prickle with sweat and flamed his temper higher.

Darting a startled glance up, she went back to staring holes in her knees. "...That's... not funny. I'm not… I'm just me, small and sickly. No hawk eyes or bloodhound nose, no bat ears or spider web sensitivity, no—no whatever animal tastes really well." She threw a hand out and then retracted it to tug hard on her short hair. "Besides, everyone knows only boys can be Sentinels. Just because I dress this way to get work doesn't mean my plumbing's gotten any different," she finished on a whisper.

When Stevie knuckled away a tear, Bucky's fiery temper collapsed into a heap of wet ashes. "Stevie...Stephanie... please," he begged.

Seized by impulse, Bucky bent down and tried to kiss Stevie for the very first time, tried to persuade and comfort her with his lips, but all his luck and experience with dames completely deserted him. Seeing his lunge only peripherally, she moved her head at the last moment to look at him. Instead of luscious and slow, the kiss hit her lips off-center and too hard, bruising and becoming something sloppy and quick. Her teeth nicked his lower lip when she jumped in surprise, leaving a bright red smear of his blood on her mouth like a damning brand.

Eyes going wide, Steve's tongue flicked out, licking off the blood. She inhaled sharply and her eyes lost focus. Otherwise, she didn't respond to the kiss, just dropped her head and stared off into space.

Feeling slightly hysterical, both his pride and his lip hurting, Bucky found it entirely appropriate that Steve should extract a blood payment for his temerity. What had he been thinking!? Silently cursing himself for a fool, Bucky quickly backpedaled so he wasn't looming. His back smacked painfully against the railing in the narrow space.

Gulping a breath, he held out his hands and tried one more time. "Stevie, I know to the depths of my soul that you are meant to be with me, meant to be my Sentinel."

Finally she responded. A fine trembling shook her curled up form as she turned her face firmly away. "We both know that's impossible. I don't know why you're doing this, but you need to stop joking now."

"I'm not joking," Bucky said wearily, scrubbing his hands over his face and raking back his sweat soaked hair.

Abruptly Steve surged to her feet. "Well, you're not being serious either," she snapped with anger, turning clumsily and clambering back over the windowsill to go inside before he could gather his wits.

"What are you—Steve! Get back here! We're not done talking about this and it's hotter than an oven in there," Bucky barked.

"It's better than the hot air you're spewing, James Buchanan Barnes! Good night!" With that, Stevie yanked shut the curtain around her bed with an angry rattle and disappeared from view. Her breathing had a rasp to it that Bucky worried would turn into an asthma attack, but he didn't dare pull back the curtain to offer help. Not unless the sound got worse.

Bucky had told Stevie the complete, unvarnished truth and she still hadn't accepted it. Had she even noticed him baring his heart to her and calling her his soulmate? No, she'd just gotten mad and pretended the awkward kiss and confessions hadn't happened, had assumed he'd been joking. This is why he'd been avoiding having this conversation. Now they were both hurting and nothing had gotten solved.

Throwing himself back down on the corner of the fire escape, Bucky lit another cigarette and sucked hard, trying to calm down. In a moment of divine irony, his Guide gift chose that moment to manifest again, forcing him to feel Stevie's misery first hand in addition to his own. Not only was she mentally hurting, but he could also vaguely sense that her body was doing something she found strange and confusing. Hopefully she wasn't getting sick again. The baby in the flat below was teething and his sleep-deprived mother and father were at the end of their ropes to boot. The kid in the flat on the right was having a nightmare and scared out of her wits.

Bucky had no idea how to block any of the negative emotions. The mental pain felt excruciating. Great, just great. This is what Bucky got for being honest: a kick in the head.