CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ON PAPER, EVERYTHING'S DIFFERENT
"Did you tell Stark where you were going?" Steve asks.
Pearl looks out of the window at miles and miles of trees stretching out before her. From what she's seen so far, Wakanda looks like a beautiful place. Under different circumstances, it might make a lovely holiday destination.
"He's not stupid, Steve. He knows I'm with you," she says and lets out a sigh. "He might never talk to me again."
"Why?"
"I said I'm not taking sides, yet here I am." She turns to Steve. "Why am I here, Steve?"
"For Bucky."
For Bucky.
Pearl wants to ask how has doing things for Bucky worked out for Steve lately, but holds her tongue. They both know Bucky's her soft spot as much as he is Steve's.
"He doesn't know who I am. I could walk away and he would be none the wiser."
Pearl's tried to stay positive and remind herself that Bucky's amnesia, at the very least, means he didn't abandon her knowingly. So far, she still feels like someone keeps repeatedly chopping up her insides with a machete, but the positivity has helped her feel sympathy towards him. Like most things in Bucky's life, he didn't ask for this.
"He's going under cryostasis again," Steve says. "Until we can figure out how to remove his programming."
"That's good," Pearl says, nodding her head.
Steve places a hand on her shoulder. "You should go talk to him."
He gives her shoulder a squeeze before turning and walking away. She sighs, watching him walk away and passing the door Bucky is behind. He's right there, barely ten feet away from her. A year ago, she would've ran through that door the minute she arrived. Now she's not even sure she should go in.
After glancing at her phone to find no new messages or calls, Pearl runs her fingers through her hair and checks her scarlet lipstick in a compact. Even after a long flight it's still holding up, gorgeous and absolutely almost worth the thirty dollars. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself she sure as hell did not fly all the way out here just to see Steve.
Looking through the little window on the door, the first thing she notices is Bucky's hobo haircut has made a less than wanted comeback. The second thing is the absence of the metal contraption that used to cause shivers down her spine. His arm.
She pushes the door open. He turns to look, but there's no happy reunion moment. No twinkle in his eyes upon recognition. No smile, nothing.
"What happened to your arm?" she asks, closing the door behind her.
He glances at his shoulder. "It was shot off."
She wonders if he lied about liking the haircut she once gave him or if the hobo hair is just how he stays incognito. He looks the same as the day they met, just a little more scuffed up and a little less morose.
"You're Pearl," Bucky says.
She nods. "I am."
"I'm supposed to know you."
Pearl shrugs. "You knew me. That doesn't mean you're supposed to know me now."
He stares straight at her as she adjusts her cardigan, wrapping it tighter around herself. She looks around the room, trying to find the right words to say, as if they'll just appear to her from the empty walls or instrument trays.
Pearl looks back at him to see he's still staring. He blinks. His eyes, the beautiful blue ones she used to look into and hope she'd never have to look away, continue to scan every inch of her face, as if he's hoping it'll spark something.
"You're so beautiful. I didn't do you justice," Bucky says.
"What?"
"I wrote about you," he says, "in my diary."
After the events at the Potomac, Bucky kept diaries, writing down events he could remember, trying to piece his life together. He kept writing even while living at the compound. As he explains it, Pearl wonders why he never told her, but that question is soon replaced by an even bigger one.
"Why didn't you come back?" she asks, her eyes narrowing in on his. "You knew we would help you."
He looks down, his forehead creasing as he talks. "I was going to come back eventually. In another year, maybe."
Pearl's heart skips a beat. The words seem to echo in her ear like a bad movie soundtrack, the kind that takes you out of the moment.
"What?"
He breathes out slowly, shutting his eyes for a second. His gaze trails across the floor as his hand grips onto the edge of the examination chair, his fingers wrapping around dark blue polyurethane. "I wanted to give you time to move on."
"Move on?" Pearl stares ahead in disbelief. "Bucky, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I didn't want to put you through this again. If I'd stayed away longer, then maybe-"
"Put me through what?" she asks, louder than she intends to.
Bucky finally looks up. "All of it." He shakes his head before looking straight into her eyes. "I'm not good for you. I never was. You deserve to be with somebody who doesn't need you to fix them."
The words come out with utmost sincerity. He actually believes it. He doesn't even know her, and he's sitting there, acting like he knows what's best. He doesn't even know himself, and he's just spouting off these things like they're facts, because he read a few scribbles about their relationship in some diary?
Pearl would gladly take back the machete in exchange for the wrecking ball currently smashing the air out of her lungs and all her kindness out of her heart. He's not poor Bucky with amnesia, he's just a man. A stupid, stupid man.
"Is that what your notes told you?" she asks.
"I tried to kill you, Pearl."
She scoffs. "For the record, you tried to kill Steve a lot more than you tried to kill me."
"That doesn't make it okay," he says, like he's not sure she understands the concept.
"I don't care!" Pearl yells, throwing her arms out.
Bucky looks to be taken aback, confused even. With his brow furrowed, he stares ahead, his mouth moving as if he's trying to say something but the words escape him. He shakes his head, again. '"I was just trying to protect you."
"Don't say that," Pearl huffs. "You don't remember me. This is not about me. You were being selfish."
"Selfish?"
"Yeah!" she says. "You just decided I need to be protected, so you could feel better about yourself. So you could move on thinking you did the right thing."
"It was the right thing."
The look on his face makes her want to punch his perfect teeth in. It's almost pity. Like he's somehow saving her and she doesn't even get it. Like he's so great for figuring out the fucked up nature of their previous relationship and sparing her from further pain. Like he deserves a medal for it.
"You don't get to decide that it's too much for me, Bucky. I know what I can handle. I decide," she says.
Pearl can feel her heart bouncing around her chest. Her eyes are so wide open they're beginning to dry, but she can't bring herself to blink. She stares as his face, watching the confusion creep back in.
He doesn't get it, her anger. How could he? He's right and she's irrational for acting like he's not. He is right. In theory and on paper, he is right. Technically, she's been better off without him. Safe, unharmed, and with normal people problems like work or where to order lunch.
But he doesn't get to make that choice for her. He doesn't even remember her.
"You know, you told me you loved me," she says quietly, looking down at the floor because his goddamn face is too much.
"I did?"
"Yeah." She nods. "Then you disappeared, and I spent the last year thinking you were probably dead." Her eyes begin to well up, so she swallows the lump in her throat, hoping it'll be enough to stop them streaming down. She looks up. "And then I find out you're alive, but you just decided to stay away, because of a notebook?"
"I never meant to hurt you. That's the opposite of what I wanted."
He gets up and takes a few steps towards her, extending out his arm. She pulls away hers as he tries to touch, stepping to the side.
"Hurt me?" she asks, her voice already breaking. "You broke my heart, Bucky."
Tears roll down her cheek as she stares into his eyes. So full of sympathy, yet completely empty. Absolutely void of any real emotion. His heavy breathing fills the space between them.
Pearl wipes away tears with her sleeve, not even bothering to care about possibly ruining her cashmere, and turns to leave. She turns the handle on the door. He doesn't stop her. He's not there anymore. She looks over her shoulder.
"We are so much more than just words on paper."
