Chapter 13: What It Takes

Continuing to brush my teeth, I reached for my phone when the song ended. It automatically repeated "Written in Reverse," and I set it back down. Why am I listening to this crap? I hummed along with the lyrics when they came in.

"I wish I was more
Than a cloud
In your universe
I wish there was room
In your sky
For the two of us—"

I figured I would fall asleep easily after training with James that morning, but I didn't. I tossed and turned for a few hours, resisting the urge to glance at my phone every few minutes. Keeping Steve out of my mind required a lot of brainpower. Eventually, I sat up in bed and leaned back against the headboard.

I was exhausted, completely wired, and on the verge of a meltdown.

"Jesus," I sighed, rubbing my dry eyes.

The light from my phone blinded me when I turned it on. I instinctively opened my text messages with Steve, irrationally expecting to see something new. I tapped the button to call him just to test what would happen.

It immediately went to voicemail. "You have reached the voicemail box of…Steve Rogers. At the tone, please record your message. When you've finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options."

Beep!

I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. Covering half my face with my hand, I sniffled to hold back some tears. They slid silently down my cheeks anyway, and I cursed under my breath. I fucking hate this.

Knowing he would never hear it, I murmured, "I don't know how much longer I can do this…"

I wanted to know he was safe. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted him home.

I jumped when I heard the automated voice say, "Sorry, please try again later. Thank you for calling. Goodbye."

The call ended.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at the screen. My contacts list stared back at me. I scrolled through, imagining each person's reaction to a phone call at 1 AM. Only one seemed to make sense. I tapped the number and listened as it rang.

"Hello," he answered in a tired voice.

"Hey," I said, "it's me."

"Kate?" I heard some shifting on his end. "What's up?"

I sighed and shook my head. "I can't sleep."

"Hah. Me, neither."

I suddenly felt like an idiot for calling him. I barely knew him. He barely knew me. I was definitely sending out mixed messages.

"Want me to come over?" he asked, simple and direct.

My heart rate accelerated. Does he think I want to have sex? I opened my mouth, but I didn't know what to say.

"We can go for a walk," he suggested.

Clamping my mouth shut, I nodded. "Sure."

I sat on the front steps of my apartment building, staring out at the empty street and hugging my knees. The fluorescent street lights washed out the night sky, and a chilly breeze nipped at my nose. I pulled my jacket tighter, wishing I hadn't lost my fur-lined coat. Wishing I was somewhere warm and not alone.

"Hey."

James approached with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. I cocked my head; it was strange seeing him without a cigarette on his lips. "Hey," I said.

Just the sound of our crunchy footsteps and the occasional passing car filled the silence. The sidewalk was kind of dark and icy. When we reached a nearby street corner, I turned around.

"Can we stay on my block?"

He gave me a small nod. "'Course."

I walked even slower than before, hoping to prolong his presence. The last thing I wanted to be was alone.

"What's going on with you?" he finally asked.

Just the question itself made my chest swell with emotions. The type of emotions I wanted to rip out of my body and bury six feet under. I sniffled from the cold.

"I don't know if you read the tabloids, but…," I started, feeling reckless, "I'm actually the girl who's dating Captain America."

I felt him glance at me briefly. "...I thought so."

"He's—I mean—he's great. Honestly…I love him." Feeling something hot and wet on my face, I wiped it away. "I just don't know if I have what it takes to…be with him," I finished with a crack in my voice.

I heard him inhale sharply. I had clearly thrown him a curveball, but I didn't need his advice. I needed him to listen. I needed someone to listen to me.

"Goddamnit," I breathed, wiping more tears away.

A few silent minutes passed. I figured he had chosen not to respond, but then—

"You're spoiled."

I almost choked on my shocked laughter. "Excuse me?"

His expression was completely serious. "Your life is so much easier than his," he stated.

I was speechless, eyes searching the nothingness ahead.

"He needs you more than you need him."

My mouth fell open. Is that true?

"Besides, if you love him…," he trailed off, and I glanced at him. He was looking up at the sky; I could see his breath cloud beneath the harsh lighting. "You should make sacrifices for him."

I swallowed; my throat suddenly felt like glue. "I think…you have been in a relationship."

Looking down, he breathed out a short laugh. "I think it's a military thing."

I took a few minutes to absorb what he had said. It was annoying how right he was. Guilt gnawed at me as I thought of all the things I wanted—no, needed—to say to Steve.

I blinked when a snowflake suddenly landed on my cheek. Just then, I noticed how far ahead I had gotten. I glanced back at James, whose gaze was stuck on the pavement as he trailed behind. I stopped to let him catch up as a flurry of snow began.

"Are you okay?"

His gaze caught mine briefly. "Yeah," he said. "Just thinking."

I frowned. "That's bad for you."

He only nodded. A few moments passed before he continued. "Sometimes I think people would be better off without me."

My head whipped over to look at him. As usual, his expression was guarded and difficult to read. "What do you mean?"

He remained silent, allowing me to draw my own terrible conclusions.

"That's absolutely not true," I said ardently.

"The more I remember, the more I realize that I'm…" A sudden look of clarity came over his face, and then he shook his head.

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

He shook his head again. "Never mind."

My eyebrows drew together. "You're what? I wanna know."

He sighed in frustration, and I couldn't tell if his anger was directed at me or himself. "That I'm…too far gone," he said, turning his face away.

My concern grew into fear. I had heard that kind of talk from suicidal patients before. "What makes you say that?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"James…" I reached for his shoulder, wanting to see his face. He slowed to a stop and turned halfway; I could see half of his face illuminated pale and white. "You're not," I told him.

His face was an unbreakable mask. I wanted him to open up to me, but I didn't know how to make him. The only words I could think of were for the sick and dying.

My hand tightened on his shoulder. "I'm here for you," I said.

His eyes traveled between mine, searching. Then, he slowly reached to brush my hand away. I let it fall to my side as he stepped back.

"I've gotta go," he said suddenly.

He started down the sidewalk at a fast pace that I could barely keep up with. I stumbled after him, my boots slipping in the ice and snow. The snowfall had picked up, causing the road ahead to appear hazy. He was almost out of sight.

"James!" I shouted, shielding my eyes with my hand. He was heading towards the bridge. "James, don't you dare do anything stupid!"

I thought of running after him. I thought of calling the police. Before I could think of anything else, I heard him call something over his shoulder.

"I won't."

…

I woke up to the sound of my intercom buzzing. Throwing myself to the edge of the bed, I blinked around at my dimly-lit room. I checked my phone; it was just after 7 AM. Way too early for a package.

Hitting the button to answer the call, I rasped, "James?"

It just continued to screech, and I wondered why he kept hitting the button. Grabbing my jacket, I pulled it on as I slid out the door and sprinted barefoot down the hall. Halfway down the stairs, I could see his downturned face through the glass door.

I flung the door open, letting in a blast of cold air and snow. James looked like he hadn't slept at all—he wore the same clothes, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had a wild look on his face.

"Are you okay?" I breathed.

He grabbed my arm and pushed me inside, letting the door slam shut behind us. "I need to tell you something," he said urgently.

My heart pounded. As he released me, I noticed the boarding pass in his other hand. It was for a flight to…Romania?

"Where did you get that?" I demanded.

He shoved it into his pocket. "The airport."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah," he said, sounding annoyed. "Right after this."

"After…what?"

He sighed and gestured to the stairs behind me. "Sit down."

Using the handrail, I sank down to the second step. My feet were practically frozen against the cold wooden flooring. When James crouched in front of me, our eyes were level. His expression was open and vulnerable.

"My name is James Barnes," he said, causing my brow to furrow in confusion. "My friends used to call me…Bucky."

"Bucky Barnes," I repeated softly as my mind reeled.

He nodded.

There's no way. I couldn't help but feel skeptical. So many people had been looking for him for so many months. What are the odds that…

Suddenly, he was ripping off his glove and unbuttoning his sleeve. He yanked it up, revealing a metal arm that I instantly recognized. The Winter Soldier. My hand subconsciously cupped my cheek where he had scarred me.

Then, my instincts kicked in, and I shot to my feet.

"You shot Steve," I said in a shaky voice. I used the wall for leverage as I stumbled up the stairs backwards. "You almost killed him."

Desperation appeared on his face. "I was…brainwashed," he explained, following me. "I…couldn't control myself."

"I know, but…" When my back hit the wall of the landing, I reached for the next banister. "Are you still?"

"No!" he said incredulously. "I…I ran away."

I stopped at the top of the stairs, realizing there was nowhere for me to go anyways. I gripped the wooden post beside me as James stopped a few stairs down. He looked up at me with caution in his eyes.

I swallowed. "The other night, at the club," I murmured. "That wasn't a coincidence, was it?"

His jaw visibly clenched. "No."

"So you were—" I pressed my lips together, feeling like a complete and utter idiot. "You were stalking me."

He shook his head forcibly. "I protected you," he argued.

I tossed my hand up in exasperation. "Why?" I breathed.

His lips parted and his eyebrows came together, revealing that even he didn't know. At least he told the truth about losing his memories.

"Steve has been looking for you," I told him. "For months."

Surprise broke out on his face.

"Actually—" I patted my pockets for my phone. "He needs to know you're in New York."

"No!" James lunged to stop me when I made to walk down the hall. He quickly withdrew his hand and used it to comb his dark bangs out of his eyes.

"Why not?"

He cleared his throat to regain his composure. "I thought I was ready to face him—" he stopped, shaking his head. "But I can't."

I frowned. Steve can help him recover his memories. "But—"

"Promise me," James interrupted, sounding hopeless. "Promise me you won't tell him."

I was on the verge of shaking my head and calling him crazy. That won't do a bit of good. Then, realizing what I needed to do, I nodded resolutely. "I promise," I said. "I won't tell him."

He leaned back against the wall and he sighed in relief. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Really."

I crossed my arms in the chilly hallway, too nervous to invite him inside and too anxious to tell him to leave. "So, you're leaving?"

"Those people," he started with a grimace. "They're looking for me—I know it. I have to keep moving."

"You mean HYDRA?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what that means."

"They're gone." I waved my hand dismissively. "You don't have to worry about them anymore."

He seemed skeptical. "I don't know about that," he said, pulling the boarding pass out of his pocket and glancing at it. "But I know I need to keep moving."

The reality that he—James, not Bucky Barnes—was leaving so soon started to settle in. A frown tugged at my lips. "How long will you be gone?"

Predictably, he didn't respond. Instead, he stretched out his hand, and I grasped it and shook it. He held onto my hand for a few extra moments. I looked up to find a pointed look on his face.

"Take care of him," he said.

I nodded rapidly as he released my hand. Too soon, he turned around and headed for the stairs. He's really leaving.

"James—"

I caught his arm just before he reached the stairs; he gave me a questioning look. I moved forward and put my arms around him. As his arm tentatively settled around me, I gave him the tightest squeeze I could muster.

"He misses you," I murmured.

He said nothing as I stepped away. But he did smile.

A crushing sensation came over my entire body when I returned to the apartment. It felt like my only life ring had drifted out to sea, and I was drowning. I had no idea what to do.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and unplugged it. I scrolled through my morning notifications until I found one that made my heart stop. There were two texts and a missed call from Tony.

I opened the texts faster than lightning.

Tony
It's Steve. Eta 2.5 hours.

The next one was received just minutes ago.

Are you there?