Flashlight
Chapter twenty
After the charges were dropped, life quickly went back to normal. Sam spend some time profusely apologising to Maria—promising to never do such a thing again. She'd scoffed whenever he repeated the promise, knowing full well that he wouldn't hold himself to it. Maria understood, as you did, that while Sam never went looking for trouble, he was never one to look away from injustice. And even though his first course of action was mediating—and even though he was exceptional at it—he would jump into the fray, with little care for his own safety, if he deemed it important. Steve was just like Sam in that sense, though his apologies to Sharon were much more readily accepted. To her it all appeared rather wonderful, standing up for others.
None of their antics had really surprised you. What had had been the silence that had met your ears on the ride home. With Clint and Bucky in the car, you had half-expected their laughter to erupt as they recounted their adventure. You had expected to hear them talk of the reasons behind it and their justifications. None of that had come. Sharing glances with Natasha through the rearview mirror, you knew that she had been equally surprised, and neither of you pushed the subject.
Instead, Natasha had spent most of the ride poking at Clint's bruised cheek, laughing as he swatted her hand away and grumbled that he needed sleep. Natasha rarely got angry at Clint, often saying that he'd carry the consequences and that was enough for her. Poking his bruises was one way she ensured that he realised those consequences. She was also very good at pointed looks whenever he said something contradicting his own behaviour. Like when he had given a cousin the advice to take the high road, a few years back. The cousin had quickly realised that Clint didn't follow his own advice.
While Natasha teased Clint, you had observed Bucky—surprised to find him quiet and staring out of the window in a daze. You weren't sure if talking to him would be the right choice in that moment. Eventually, you had settled on asking him if he had been hurt in the process, to which he had shaken his head and offered a small smile. Upon noticing that the smile did not reach his eyes, worry had grown inside of you. He clearly didn't want to talk and you knew it was no longer your place to press the issue. It hadn't been easy to restrain yourself, but you'd known it was the best course of action in that moment. He no longer owed you any answers and that realisation stung more than you had expected it to.
You later learned that all of the men had kept mum on the subject of their night in jail and after a few weeks, no more questions passed any of your lips— and all of you chose instead to let it slide. Every single woman in the group simply accepting that they would've had their reasons to keep quiet.
And all too soon, two months passed by and life had moved on.
Instead, you focussed on keeping your feelings for Bucky in check and picking yourself up. With Natasha on your case, you continued to give new impulses to your life—applying for other jobs and immersing yourself in photography again. It was enough to swallow you up and it helped you close your eyes to the things you weren't ready to face—even though you knew you couldn't ignore them forever. After all, repressed feelings had a tendency to fester, creating emotions that never needed to be. Caught up in your wilful ignorance, you didn't even notice it happened until it overwhelmed you.
Merely being Bucky's friend had proved too difficult a task—the delicate process not something either of you was really equipped to balance. And it resulted in the two of you dancing around each other, avoiding any and all subjects that could address the issues that still hung in the air. What little contact you'd had had been light, focussing on silly subjects such as the state of the weather. It was enough to break your heart a little more each time you interacted, and it finally prompted you to avoid him completely. Skipping dinners and outings that included him soon had you isolated completely and though it was far from ideal, it was easier. And the more dinners you skipped, the easier it became to ignore that voice in the back of your head that told you this was a temporary band-aid and nothing more.
Your friends worried, you knew, but you were so caught up in your own little bubble that you managed to ignore their pointed looks. You barely realised that you were pushing them away. Not that Natasha was really allowing your pushing or your ignoring for that matter. She told you more than once that you'd have to open up, speak up, and confront your demons at some point. There were things you needed to address, and turning a blind eye wasn't helping you. You knew she was right, of course; you even admitted this to her, but you were at a loss. You didn't know where to begin that loaded conversation. Or if Bucky was even open to it.
And with your emotions festering due to your inability to take action, the cracks in your facade were beginning to show. You smiled less and less, happiness becoming a foreign subject to you.
You knew your friends were pulling out their hair, trying to help you create a change. But they could only do so much. Eventually, it would be up to you and him.
And it wasn't until one Saturday morning, hours before you were to attend a group dinner for the first time in months, that the dam holding back your emotions finally broke. Everything you had kept inside came bursting out, prompted by a dream.
"Mommy, mommy!" A shrill young voice called out, an urgency clear in her tone.
The voice was soon followed by the sound of small feet pattering over the hardwood floor, moving towards you. From around the corner of the living room, a little girl appeared and ran into the kitchen to where you stood. You'd been cutting vegetables and put down the knife as she lunged for your legs. She begged you to pick her up and save her, giggling a little as you wrapped her in your arms.
"Mommy, he com'n Mommy." The same urgency to her tone, though there were signs of pure mirth in her eyes. Even in your dreaming state, you were shocked by the realisation that she was yours—there was no denying it as you looked up her small frame. Still, you replied, catching on to the playful nature of her pleas.
"Who is?" You asked, pretending not to understand what was happening.
"The daddy monster," she whispered, leaning close to your ear—careful not to let her words carry.
She slurred the s and you knew with absolute certainty that she always struggled with the s in words, though you were confused how you had acquired the knowledge. Somewhere your subconscious was trying to tell you something, but it was lost the moment your mouth opened and you replied to the little girl.
"Oh no, what do we do now?" You whispered back dramatically, and with her in your arms you moved around the kitchen island, slowly bending your knees to hide behind it. The little girl in your arms couldn't keep from giggling as a growling noise and heavy footsteps came closer from the direction of the living room.
"I smell a little girl and I'm hungry," a deep velvety voice said, growling again. The voice was so familiar, immediately offering a deep-rooted sense of safety—even if your subconscious wasn't letting you put a face to the voice. You knew it, loved it, cherished the owner—that much you did know.
When silence followed the growled words, the little girl became restless. The footsteps had stopped, and she tried to see past their hiding place, not nearly as careful as she seemed to think—though it mattered not, she couldn't see him. In the meantime, you could hear quiet steps move around the counter and arrive behind you. You chuckled, wondering how long it would take your daughter to figure out she was tricked.
Quietly, he closed in on you, before quickly grabbing the girl from your grip and tickling her. She shrieked and laughed as he continued his attack on her, her breathless voice calling for her mommy to save her. You pretended to try and grab her, missing repeatedly by mere inches as the daddy monster kept her from your grasp. You smiled happily at the sight before you, it was truly heartwarming how he loved this little girl. She squirmed in her father's arms until he finally stopped tickling her and hugged her close. She sighed deeply, catching her breath and returned the hug, her body still occasionally shaking with giggles.
Then he leaned closer to you and kissed your lips gently, a short kiss with a clear promise for more. Leaning into him, you felt lighter than you ever had—happy. And as. You melded to his side, you breathed in the subtle remnants of his aftershave, the smell so familiar and comforting to you that you hoped to stand there forever.
"Hi, doll," he said softly, the smile on his lips equally as bright as yours.
You woke with a start, sitting up straight and pressing a shaking hand on your chest, feeling your rapidly beating heart. Struggling to get your breath back to normal, you repeatedly went over the events of the dream—it had been so palpable, beautiful, and calm. Like it had been meant to be. Which was exactly why it broke your heart into a million pieces as soon as reality set in again. The tears and pain quickly morphed into an anger that you had not experienced in a long time. An anger over all that could have been and would not ever happen. An anger over all the unanswered questions and the hole it had created in your heart.
Anger, because you had known who the father to that beautiful little girl had been as soon as she had come into view. She may have shared your eye colour, but everything else had been him. The brown hair, the straight nose, and the dimpled chin—it had all been Bucky. And in the midst of the surge of anger and heartbreak, you blamed Bucky—as if he himself had stolen that little girl from you.
A small part of you still realised that it wasn't fair to blame him for the dreams that your mind made up, but rational thought was long gone in those early morning hours. Now if you'd been given time to recover from the pain, it wouldn't have been so bad. You would have been able to rationalise your feelings, get your head on straight again.
But time wasn't on your side, much like it hadn't been these past few years. Because tonight Maria and Sam were hosting a dinner and the whole group had been summoned. Summoned, instead of invited, for they had pressed the issue, claiming it was vital that everyone came.
And since you had been neglecting your friends for weeks now, you knew you could not possibly cancel on them now. Even if you knew it wouldn't do you any good to go with this dream still swirling around in your head.
After you found a parking spot near the apartment building, you took a moment to control your breathing. Anxiety filled your veins, and you knew they'd notice as soon as you stepped in, so you needed to relax. You'd spend much of the day trying to distract yourself, attempting to forget about the dream, though you hadn't been particularly successful at it. It had been as futile as your current breathing exercises. So, with a deep sigh, you resigned yourself to your faith and got out of the car. There wasn't anything else to do now.
"Y/N, wait up!" A voice sounded over the rush hour traffic and you glanced up, as you pressed the button to lock your car.
Placing the keys in a small pocket of your purse, you watched as a brightly smiling Sharon made her way towards you. Answering her smile with one of your own, you waited for her to reach you. Though her relationship with Steve was relatively new, she had already conquered a place within the group—she was rather easy to like. Sharon had proved herself to be funny, kind, and tough. She worked as a nurse in the emergency room of their local hospital, where she ran the floor, an impressive feat at her age. Of course, perhaps the most important thing about her was the fact that she made Steve happier than anyone had done in a long while. He seemed to do the same for her. Whenever you'd seen them together, they'd been all smiles and kisses—it was quite adorable.
Coming to a stop before you, she was quick to wrap her arms around you for a spontaneous hug, the smile still present on her face. You momentarily wondered if she was always this happy, or if her relationship with Steve caused the never wavering smile. You almost cautioned her not to put her happiness on one person, though you thankfully caught yourself. They had every right to be happy and not everyone made the same mistakes you had made. After all, it had been all you to put yourself on the sidelines and focus completely on Bucky. Which had stunted your growth and had suffocated him, you understood that now.
"Where's your other half?" You asked, shaking those thoughts from your mind and trying to let her happiness infect you instead.
"He's just a little late, so I offered to meet him here instead," she explained.
"Don't let Maria hear it. She might throw a fit," you joked, thinking of the multiple messages she'd send out to remind everyone of the time she expected everyone.
Though Maria was always punctual, she had never before been quite this forceful to implement it on others, and it made you believe that there was something she wanted to share with all of you. Which had made it even more important for you to set aside your own muddled feelings.
"It'll only be a few minutes," Sharon chuckled, linking her arm through yours and steering you towards the entrance of the building. "It would've been longer if he'd have picked me up though," she added.
"You should've called; you're on the way for me," you offered, as you began to walk towards the entrance of the building.
"Next time," she agreed.
A few short moments later you were walking into the living room, in a slightly better mood than the one you had arrived with. Sharon was in an energetic mood, spouting jokes in the elevator and quickly pushing off the dark clouds that had been gathering over your head all day.
"Dumped Steve for Y/n, have you?" Clint asked as soon as you came into view. He was seated on the couch, blissfully unaware that Maria stood right behind him. The loud sigh and a playful smack to the back of his head changed that. Sam chuckled as he followed you inside, moving past you to kiss Maria's cheek.
"Couldn't she have us both?" you asked, your face stoic.
"Definitely," Clint replied, wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh. Pushing Clint aside, you claimed a spot on the couch between him and Natasha, while Sharon sat down in one of the folding chairs that had been placed around the coffee table.
"I feel replaced," Natasha joked and you pulled her into a sideways hug, promising that she would always be your favourite.
"And you mine," she agreed, kissing your cheek, leaving Clint to grumble and pout. You chuckled and he jabbed your legs in revenge—which quickly prompted some jabs back and forth until Maria interrupted the action with a clearing of her throat. She appeared a little nervous and you quickly quieted down.
"Where's Steve?" she inquired, turning to Sharon as soon as you and Clint had ceased your romping.
Sharon glanced up at Maria, taking a beat to observe the stern look she was given, before quickly informing her that he'd be arriving at any moment. Relieved, Maria seemed to relax a little—though her agitation was still palpable and you wondered what was going on with her. Glancing over at Natasha only got you a shrug; she didn't know either. However, across from you, Wanda smiled sweetly; she clearly knew something. Unfortunately, questioning her now was not an option—you'd just have to wait until Steve arrived and Maria would share her information.
Resigning to the fact, you glanced to Wanda's right and stared straight into the beautiful blue eyes of your dream. Bucky sat quietly, almost stoic on a chair in the corner of the room. He had been staring at the floor when you entered, but now he offered you a shy smile. Forcing yourself to return it, you hoped it would be convincing enough. It wouldn't do you any good to add tension to the air.
When Steve knocked not even two minutes later, Maria was fidgeting in her seat. Sam stopped rubbing her shoulders long enough to open the door. Steve was quickly directed to a chair, while Sam got him a drink. Slightly confused, Steve glanced around the room and found that same confusion in everyone's faces. He gave Sharon a quick kiss and sat down beside her.
Sam returned with a beer at lightning speed and nodded at Maria, who stood to grab something from the dresser behind the couch you were seated on. It was a simple white envelope and gave you no new information, as you followed her every move. You could see her hands shaking slightly and it worried you—nothing ever shook Maria—however, Sam's adoring gaze quickly eased some of the worry. He didn't seem nervous one bit.
"I—WE asked you all here because we've got some news to share," Maria started, the worry easing from her shoulders instantly—you realised she had been eager to share her news, and the waiting must have made her a little anxious. Next to her Sam now sported a big smile.
Opening the envelope, Maria pulled out the contents—a single picture— and held it up for everyone to see.
A sonogram.
For a single second everyone stared in silence, the message behind the picture quickly sinking in and causing noise to erupt around you. Everyone stood in unison, happy shouts resounding in the room. Quickly pulling Maria in for a hug, you congratulated her on the happy news, before stepping aside and repeating the gesture with Sam. You were incredibly happy for them, even if it reminded you of your dream. Even if your heart hurt for Natasha. You didn't need to look at your best friend to know that she would be smiling bright, genuinely happy for Maria and Sam as well. Even if it reminded her of her own pain. Sitting back down on the couch, you quickly squeezed Natasha's hand and patted Clint's thigh, careful not to draw any attention towards the gestures.
"So, it wasn't food poisoning then, in the cabin?" Natasha asked with a smirk, once everyone sat down again.
"Certainly the longest bout I've ever had," Maria confessed with a chuckle and you shook your head laughing. Just then the kitchen timer sounded and Maria stood to check on dinner.
"Sit!" you said, standing up instead. "Why don't you let me check on the food."
Maria opened her mouth to protest and Natasha stood next to you, silently cutting her off with a look.
"You've only got a limited amount of months to let everyone run around for you, guilt-free," she offered, gently pushing Maria back into her seat, before sidestepping the couch and moving towards the kitchen.
"What makes you think she'd have guilt from that?" Sam asked teasingly, earning himself a smack on the arm from his beautiful, pregnant girlfriend. You laughed, taking Natasha's hand in yours and pulling her towards the kitchen.
The kitchen in Maria and Sam's apartment was closed off from the living room, offering Natasha a few uninterrupted moments to deal with her emotions. You had expected she'd try to stay strong throughout the evening, but by following you here she had made it clear that a moment was needed. You quickly check on the food, before turning towards Natasha and pulling her into a tight hug, right as the first tears began to fall from her eyes.
"Please don't think I'm not happy for them," Natasha whispered in your ear, trying to explain her tears away. Shushing her, you cut her off. She didn't need to explain, you understood perfectly fine. Being happy for them and hurting over your own situation were not mutually exclusive.
"I know, sweetheart," you said. "Still hurts nonetheless."
Your hands moved in soothing circles over her back as you spoke and Natasha nodded, before burying her face in your hair and allowing you to comfort her for a moment longer. In the silence that followed, all that could be heard was the occasional sniffle and you squeezed her a little closer every time. You wondered how you could possibly make the night easier on your friends. Clint might not show his emotions as often, he would still feel it just like his wife did. Coming up empty, you finally pulled back from the hug and asked her point-blank if she would be able to manage dinner. It took a moment, but she convinced you. She then dabbed her face with cold water, composing herself, while you began carrying the dishes to the dining table.
During dinner, Maria and Sam were bombarded with many questions, and they were eager to answer them. Except for the question of the baby's sex. They had chosen not to find out, stating they didn't care either way. It didn't surprise you one bit.
Eventually conversations broke off into smaller groups, and seated between Steve and Wanda, you quickly inquired how they had been before apologising for your recent absence from their lives. Both waved off your apology; neither would ever expect more than you could give them, and you were grateful for their friendship. You'd be hard-pressed to find a more understanding group of people than those now seated around this table.
When Clint made a comment that Sam would have to behave now and be a proper example for his kid, everyone laughed. Sam protested that he had never been anything but a prime example for a youngster, to which Maria scoffed loudly.
Turning to Steve, you smiled and asked if he'd been an example as well.
"I'll have you know, I'm a very well-behaved person," he laughed, a slight blush on his cheeks when Sharon chuckled.
"Except when you guys decide to go clubbing without us," you said, giving him a pointed look, and he could only shrug.
"So should we just never allow them out of sights then?" Sharon asked teasingly and she winked at you, when Steve dropped his head in defeat.
"Nope, perhaps we should buy them a bell, so we can follow the sound," you mimicked her teasing tone. Steve chuckled, before protesting that he wasn't a cow. After a few more jabs directed at Steve, both you and Sharon stopped, laughing still, but offering him a reprieve.
"Are we ever going to hear what it was about?" you finally asked him and while he stared intently at the food on his plate, Sharon turned in her seat. You realised he hadn't told her either.
"It was nothing," he mumbled, trying to end the conversation before it had really begun and you stared at him in confusion. When your staring didn't let up, he finally added, "It's not my story to tell."
"How's it not—" you tried to understand him, but failed miserably. He'd been there, been involved, that made it his story as much as the others.
"They were bullies, Y/n. We couldn't let them—," Steve spoke softly, his glance moving over the table fleetingly. His tone had been decisive, and you nodded in acceptance. He really wasn't going to explain any further and you did not want to push the subject. Sharon looked as confused as you felt, and the two of you shared a look before you finally turned back to your food. However, as you took a bite, you realised just who his gaze had flitted towards. Looking up into the same direction, you looked straight at Bucky while he conversed with a laughing Clint. And in that moment, you were happy that subtlety had never been one of Steve's strongest points. You still didn't know what had happened, but it involved Bucky. Finally you took a deep breath and moved over to Steve and kissed his cheek.
"You're a good friend, Steve!" you whispered and he blushed as he looked up at you. You might not have gotten to the bottom of the issue, but it was clear to you now that the guys had stood up for one of their own. For now, you settled for that information.
Soon after, Wanda asked when you would go for another walk together, and you allowed the information to sink to the back of your mind—stored for another time.
A few hours later, the evening slowly came to a close as Natasha and Clint stood to leave, Natasha explaining that a headache had taken hold. Hugging Maria and Sam, they both offered the couple more felicitations and well wishes, before Clint helped her into her coat. For a moment, you wondered if you should follow them, wishing to hold them close. But you realised that they needed some time together. So you stayed in your seat and waved them off with a smile, vowing to yourself that you'd text her later.
With the closing of the door, everyone stood from the table and began stacking plates.
"Go, sit," you told Maria with a smile and a peck on her cheek. "We'll clean up."
"I'm pregnant, not incapable," she grumbled, and you chuckled. Maria did not like it when people fussed, but you had every intention of fussing anyway.
"We know, but I doubt you've allowed yourself much rest. Even with the morning sickness." Wanda joined your conversation, gently pushing Maria towards the couch. You chuckled while Sam nearly pushed her onto the couch and then offered her a foot-rub. She grumbled some more, but you paid it no mind—instead, you began moving things from the dining table to the kitchen.
The rest of the group followed suit and the table was cleared quickly. You then waved off the rest, stating that the kitchen was too small for all of them. Wanda ignored you and began putting things in the dishwasher, while Steve, Sharon, and Bucky allowed you to push them out. Whatever didn't fit in the washer, you began to wash by hand. You wanted it all done by the time you left.
A little while later, Steve and Sharon came back in to say goodbye, explaining that Sharon needed to be up early for work. And when you re-entered the living room, Bucky was in the process of putting his coat on. You waved as you passed him, having not shared a single word with him during the night. Sitting down in the seat Sam had vacated when he walked Bucky out, you smiled at Maria. Wanda followed you and sat down on the other side of Maria, both of you gushing about how happy you were.
You were tired, dead on your feet, but you were determined to wait long enough to give Bucky ample time to vacate the building before you left. You didn't want to talk to him, and while you had been able to secretly avoid him for most of the night, it would stand out if you were standing in the elevator together.
However, after your third yawn in five minutes, Maria told you to go home, urging you to sleep. Chuckling, you kissed her cheek, she was right. And surely Bucky would be gone by now. Slipping into your coat, Sam hugged you and waved you off. By the time you had reached the elevator, he had retreated back into the apartment.
The doors to the elevator were drawing close as you approached, though you paid in no mind—you were lost in thought, and pressed the button absentmindedly. The doors re-opened instantly and you looked up in surprise. Inside stood Bucky with a soft smile on his face. He'd looked good tonight, and as you stepped into the elevator with a forced smile, your heart dropped a little at the sight. For a moment you pondered taking the stairs, but even your stubbornness wavered at the idea of that many steps. With a small smile of acknowledgement, you stood beside him, repeatedly telling yourself that it wouldn't take too long to reach the ground floor.
The doors closed behind you with a loud ding, and you moved to the opposite wall, leaning against the back of the small box. It stuttered a little before beginning its descent.
"How've you been?" Bucky asked, turning towards you.
"Good, you?" you asked, recognising the fake tone in your voice. You had no illusions that Bucky would fall for the fake happiness. "It's going," he shrugged, shifting on his feet. You knew it was your turn to keep the conversation going, but you couldn't think of anything.
So you remained quiet, very aware of the heat that Bucky radiated as he stood close. You also smelled his aftershave and took a deep breath in, he still wore the scent you had liked so much and your mind flashed back to your dream instantly.
Pain, anger and disappointment resurfaced immediately and you fought to push it down. And though it might not have been fair to Bucky, you really hoped he'd talk to you—just so you could shout at him. He didn't speak, however. What happened next was much worse.
The elevator jolted, the lights flickered repeatedly and then the box came to a full stop. In-between two floors.
A/n: My apologies for the long wait for this chapter. There's been a lot going on in my private life and I just struggled to find the right tone for this chapter. I hope it was worth the wait a little bit and that you enjoyed it!
