Chapter 21: as long as your army keeps perfectly still

Summary: In which relationships are negotiated and not; in which characters have thoughts and feels.

Notes: Title from "Beauty Queen/Horses" by Tori Amos.

So I was kind of discontent with this one; then I put it through some switching around and revision, and now I feel better about it and might have some vague direction at this point and that might actually lead to an endgame. Whuuut? Though that's probably a ways off. :D

Claire was typing messages into her phone.

Hey

only to backspace it all out, erasing the message.

She tried again.

How's it going?

She erased it again.

She must have done this at least thirty, forty times since she'd last spoken to Luke; it had been a while. Too long, really, for his patience to have lasted, if she was being honest with herself.

And she usually was.

To be fair, things had only gotten more and more complicated, and it wasn't clear what she should say.

The city had settled down; there hadn't been any more "incidents," small- or large-scale, and the makeshift emergency clinic had closed – though it had led to Claire getting hired at St. Luke's, which was hilarious. St. Luke's was underfunded and understaffed, but that was nothing new, and it kept her busy. It was good to have things to do and a place to go, because the stress and fear and concern about what would come next were front and center in her mind. She'd sent Luke texts at first to check on him, see how he was doing – and he'd responded, but there was a reserve there that she couldn't deny.

It was fair. And she couldn't in good conscience ease his fears, because she had no idea what the fuck was going on with Bucky, with this soulmark, with any of it.

He didn't know about what had happened in the subway, or that she was staying in Turtle Bay – or at least, she hadn't told him about it. Knowing the neighborhood, he'd found out, which was why he'd stopped texting. And now she didn't know how to reach out again – or even and she should.

Despite the bravado and determination she'd had just a couple of weeks ago in terms of Luke, everything seemed amorphous and fucked now by comparison.

She wasn't in love with Bucky Barnes, but she wasn't in a place to deny the space he was taking up in her life now – this fucking soulmark.

Luke still made more sense. Luke was grown, was well-adjusted, was open, was affectionate, was endearingly corny – but this soulbond ate up so much of her time and attention and energy that there wasn't room for anything else right now.

It would change. She knew it would change. But right now, it was what it was.

These were the thoughts she had as she did triage, as she set bones and stitched wounds and transfused blood. These were the thoughts she had as she ran through the ER, as she found veins, as she staunched bleeding. And with any luck, if she kept working and working and working, soon she wouldn't have any thoughts at all.

Bucky trained.

He didn't go with Claire in the car to take her to work, mostly because she insisted.

He didn't like it.

She wouldn't even let him stay with her after they woke up in the middle of the night. After standing by her window for a little while, she sent him back to his room. He talked to Steve about moving her room next to his, and Steve said they probably should talk to her and Pepper about it.

In the meantime, there wasn't much else to do but train.

The nightmares were kind of better, and he wondered if that was because of Claire. If because she was feeling them, too, they were happening less. If her knowing about them lightened the burden somehow.

He still preferred not to think about it – about them. About code words. About what he'd done.

But he found his fingers trailing occasionally over his hip, and his thoughts turning over what it meant that he'd been bonded to someone like Claire – someone who seemed, compared to him, at least, kind of uncomplicated. Not necessarily as uncomplicated as Steve, but also – not a soldier. A civvie whose whole life was about healing people.

But she was mean.

Well, maybe not mean, but not sweet – she was prickly and matter-of-fact and seemed not to care at all if people found her charming, even though she was that, too. But there were no airs, and no coyness, no guile – just Claire. Honest, real, straightforward, kind of fearless.

He guessed as different as she was from Steve, there was a lot in common there, too.

"So you like her," Steve said. He was watching him.

"What?" Bucky said, coming back to himself, to the room. He'd known Steve was there, but it hadn't stopped his internal monologue.

"Claire," he said. "You like her."

Bucky started wrapping his hands. "So do you," he pointed out.

Steve gave a half-smile.

"Yeah, I do," he admitted easily. "She reminds me of Peggy, a little."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, still wrapping his hands.

Steve's smile grew a bit.

"You telling me you don't see it? Tough, pretty, dedicated to a job she's great at, doesn't take any guff, but still has a heart of gold?"

Bucky hummed as he finished wrapping one hand.

"That mean you're gonna make a move on my soulmate?" he asked as he started wrapping the other.

Steve grinned, then started wrapping his own hands.

"Maybe," he said. "I do seem to have a type. Though it seems like she might have her hands full."

Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What, with me?"

"Well, there's you, her job, her moving in here, plus doesn't she have a boyfriend, too?"

Bucky frowned slightly, testing the wraps by punching his palms.

"I don't think he's a boyfriend. Not a real one."

"Oh yeah?" Steve said, arching a brow as he wrapped one hand.

"She's never with him," he said. Both Steve's brows rose.

"Bucky… you know she's not a target or a mission, right?"

That earned Steve an impressive scowl.

"I'm just saying… most girls don't really like being spied on," he said, putting his hands up in a gesture of peace.

"I'm not spying," he said. "It's just math. She works twelve or more hours a day, then either goes to see Misty or comes here. Not much time for dates."

Steve nodded.

"Fair," he said, starting to wrap the other hand. "And you're feeling a little relief about that?"

Bucky scowled again.

"It's none of my business," he said, moving toward a speed bag.

"No, it's not," Steve said as he continued wrapping. "But you're allowed to have feelings about it. I think it's probably normal to be a little jealous about your soulmate."

"Not when you already have somebody," he said, hitting the bag rhythmically, so fast his hands weren't quite visible.

"I don't think that's how it works," Steve said with a half-smile as he finished wrapping up his hand. "Wanna spar?"

Bucky looked at him for a long moment.

"Yeah," he said finally; then they moved to the fighting mat.

She woke in the middle of the night, breathless again.

This time it was the guy in the subway – grinning wickedly, reaching for her thigh, pressing his thumb into her, through her scrubs into her skin where she felt Bucky's script flare up. Orange light came from it, and she couldn't see the guy anymore – nothing except his smile, illuminated in orange, then a rainbow of light, then white, then nothing.

The grin stayed with her behind her eyes, like the Cheshire cat only more sinister, and she put her hand over her soulmark, her heart pounding, and sat bolt upright, disoriented, not knowing where she was or how she got there.

Then she remembered; looked out the window and saw the view.

She didn't belong here, but there was nowhere else for her to go.

…

When Bucky got there, probably five minutes later, she was standing by the window in the dark, the blanket draped around her as she looked out the window. He knocked just once, and she mumbled for him to come in, and he did – burst in, really, no shirt, just sweat pants, but she didn't turn to look at him. She knew who it was.

It wasn't a soul bond thing, she didn't think – just common sense.

"Claire," he said. She could feel him watching her.

"I'm fine," she said quietly; fatigue saturated her voice. "You, too?"

"Only once you woke up," he said, moving further into the room, closing the door. "What was it?"

"Just the guy again," she sighed, still looking out the window, pulling the blanket closer around her. "His fucking smile. Light. Colors. I don't know. He felt closer now. It feels like… I don't know, a lot more like he's here. Like he was here."

Bucky came closer, moved next to her at the window. He didn't touch her, but his proximity was almost the same difference. Claire half-smiled at him in the window's reflection.

"Because we're closer to each other now?" he asked.

"Seems like it, right?" she said, looking past their reflections at the view. "You think we're making it easier for him, being in the same place, having co-nightmares?"

Bucky shrugged. "I mean, not always. I didn't see your dream tonight."

"Yeah, but you felt it when I woke up," she murmured, adjusting the blanket.

"Mighta felt it anyway," he pointed out. After a moment, he said, "Dr. Cho's probably gonna wanna run some tests. And Bruce."

Claire sighed, nodding.

"Yeah," she said. "I guess that makes sense."

The smile was real; the means to channel the soul energy was already within reach, and manipulating it hadn't proven as challenging as he'd thought.

The issue was until he had the gem, there was the grating possibility of being thwarted.

But he was close.

Ms. Temple wasn't as easily accessible now as she had been, but it didn't matter just now; there were other matters to be managed before that would come into play by then, and so long as just a few pieces remained undisturbed, all would be well. Better than well, really.

He smiled again.

Notes: Next up - I'm not sure! There's an arc I'm pursuing, but I'm not sure how long it's going to take to realistically get to, so we'll see. :D

As always, come see me on my tumblr, something-pithy! I have other things there. :D