Chapter 16: Christmas-ish
Natasha didn't get the chance to go home for Christmas last year. This year, she managed to finagle her shifts to give herself five days off in a row. Luckily for her, Russians celebrated Christmas on January seventh instead of December twenty-fifth, so she still got to work American Christmas and help bring joy to all the kids and their families stuck in the hospital. After weeks of that, however, she was ready for a break.
Natasha's favorite part of flying international was listening in on all the different conversations. She was fluent enough to pick up bits and pieces in French, German, Chinese, and Italian. English, Russian, and ASL she understood completely. Lots of people were returning to work post-holidays, some traveling for business, and one overzealous tourist hoping to see all the best sights in Moscow.
Mama and Papa both picked her up at the airport; the instant rush of love and safety nearly made Natasha light-headed. "Malenkiy pauk," Mama greeted, pulling her into a tight hug. Natasha squeezed her back so tightly that she had to ask for a little reprieve.
"You've gotten so strong," Papa remarked.
Mama released her, but as they pulled away, she noticed the new piercings Natasha had added since they saw each other last. Most were healed, but the one in her forward helix she'd added barely a month ago. "Your poor ear! So many holes."
"It's fashion, Mama," she defended. It was also a nice 'fuck you' to the rules of chemo, she and Bucky agreed. Since starting college, she'd reached a grand total of nine in her left ear, but none yet in her right.
"Soon enough, you're going to be more jewelry than human ear," she tutted. Natasha didn't think that would be so bad.
"The kids at work think they're cool."
"They're children; they think anything adults are doing is cool."
Not sticking them with needles, she thought. But she knew Mama didn't mean it that way. It hadn't snowed yet back in the States, so she eagerly watched all the mounds of white fluff pass by as they drove home. She loved living near her friends, but Russia was undeniably a more beautiful country, at least compared to New York City.
Volya greeted her at the door. They'd only met once before, last time she visited, but Natasha had made sure to shower the cat with enough affection (and treats) that he remembered her. Her parents hadn't meant to get a new cat after Liho died many years ago, but one day Volya wandered up on their back porch and refused to leave. His origins as a stray led them to choose the name, which meant freedom. Since then, he'd adapted quickly to the housecat lifestyle.
"He remembers you fondly," Papa said before carrying her suitcase to her room. Natasha spent a good five minutes petting the cat before she unpacked. Her room in her parents' house was no longer a childhood bedroom. They used it as a guest room for any visitors they had, but a few personal touches of hers remained. On the walls hung a few photos of her and her Gravesen friends. The one of everybody from Steve's birthday party, one of her and Kate in LA for the Paralympics, and one of her and Nick boxing. Speaking of boxing, she and Papa had made plans to visit her old boxing gym tomorrow. Natasha looked forward to showing off all the skills she'd gained.
But first, helping Mama with Christmas dinner. There was so much to do it couldn't possibly be finished in one day, so they started early. Natasha helped bake the kalach and the cake and prepped ingredients for the coulibiac. "Your cooking skills are much improved, malenkiy pauk," Mama said, watching her work the mushrooms, onions, and dill.
"I've been cooking for Bucky," she explained. "He likes Russian food."
"An American boy who likes Russian food, eh?" Papa chuckled.
"Yes, Papa. I was just as surprised as you are."
~0~
Natasha and Opekun recognized each other the second she walked into the gym. He was a little older and a little grayer, but still with the same goofy smile and thick beard. "Natasha!" he called, voice booming through the room. "Long time, no see."
"Yeah, it's been a while. How are you?"
"I'm wonderful, wonderful. How are you? Ivan tells me you are working in America, yes?"
"Yes. I'm a nurse."
"That's great. You still box?"
She grinned. "Of course."
"Want to go round or two?"
"Absolutely."
They hopped in the ring, Papa watching eagerly from the sidelines. Natasha took him down in under ten seconds. Opekun lay on the floor, stunned, for a long time before his grin returned, even wider than before. "Wow. You have been working hard."
"Thank you. Want to try again? I can tell you were going easy on me."
"Yes."
He hopped back to his feet. Their next round lasted much longer, but Natasha still won. By the time she finally got him, another person had joined Papa outside the ring to watch. Natasha turned only for her mouth to fall open when she laid eyes on Uchitel. The sight of that woman anywhere but the Red Room did not compute in her brain. She was still staring, dumbfounded, when Opekun dashed over and passionately made out with her. Natasha almost fainted from the sheer shock of it.
Opekun turned around. "Natasha, do you know my wife, Melina?"
She'd never even heard her dance teacher's real name before. They'd always just called her 'teacher.' "Um…yes. We've met," she stammered.
"Alexei, Natasha was one of my best and brightest students. I've told you about her before."
"Oh, this is the same Natasha! I thought they were different Natashas. Silly me."
Natasha was still reeling from this discovery. Her former dance teacher and former boxing instructor were…married? This was not at all how she expected this Christmas vacation to go.
"This is…unexpected. I didn't know you knew each other."
"Oh, we know each other," Alexei said knowingly. Natasha didn't even want to think about the connotations of that. Well, this was going to be one hell of a story.
~0~
Bucky started off this session by silently staring at Dr. Raynor for five minutes straight. She prompted him to talk every thirty seconds or so, but every time he unclenched his jaw, the despair and self-hatred bubbled up his throat so fast that he had to slam his mouth shut to avoid either screaming or throwing up.
"We can't spend the whole session like this," Dr. Raynor said curtly. Bucky sensed she was getting annoyed with him, but also increasingly worried. This was the first time he'd completely clammed up like this during session. "James, you have to tell me what happened."
He only clenched his jaw harder and shook his head. His back tooth began to ache from the intense pressure.
"James." Her tone had turned dire. "We've been working together for a few months now. I'm familiar with your behavior patterns, and this isn't like you. If I suspect you're a danger to yourself or others, I will act accordingly."
Bucky shivered at the threat. That would be just great for Alpine, wouldn't it? To be forcefully thrown out of the house, welcomed back, and immediately abandoned. He couldn't do that to his poor cat. That didn't make it any easier to confess to his crimes.
"You're gonna be mad at me," he croaked.
She shook her head. "James, it is not my job to be mad at you. If you've done something detrimental to your physical or mental health—or anyone else's—I will help you deal with the emotions that caused it and cope with the aftermath, but I will not be mad at you."
"I almost fucking killed my cat."
"Something tells me you're exaggerating just a bit. Can you tell me exactly what happened?"
Bucky wanted nothing less than to recount the story. He stared a few moments more in solemn silence before Dr. Raynor narrowed her eyes just so and he gave in. "He jumped on the tree and broke an ornament that Steve gave me for our first Christmas together. It was a toy soldier; it represented our first dance song from our wedding. He broke it, and I screamed at him and kicked him out of the house."
"And then what happened?"
"I tried to throw the shards away but I couldn't, so I smashed a mug and threw those shards away. Then I cried on the couch for a while, then finally came to my goddamn senses and went looking for the cat. I looked for two fucking hours but I couldn't find him and I came home and he was just sitting there by the back door, waiting to be let back inside. After the horrible things I said to him, he was there waiting for me. I—I don't deserve a cat like him."
Dr. Raynor wrote several things down. She didn't speak for a while, letting Bucky simmer in everything he'd just divulged. His chest had constricted painfully tight as he said the words, but now that they were out, he finally relaxed. "I'm a terrible person," he reiterated.
"No, James. You had an emotional response to a triggering event."
"I could've killed him. He could've been hit by a car and died and it would've been my fault."
"But that didn't happen. James, you need to focus only on what did happen, not what didn't.
"I kicked my cat out of the only safe home he's known in a long time. And instead of running in fear and shying away from me, when I found him he let me hug him as if nothing had ever happened."
"So what I'm hearing is that Alpine is more forgiving than you are."
"I guess so. Or maybe he's so scared of the outside world that living with his abuser is preferable."
"James, you are not an abuser. Part of the definition of abuse is that it is ongoing. This was one incident which I do no suspect will be repeated."
He sighed forlornly. "I'm still an asshole. It was just an ornament and I kicked him out of the house over it."
"From what you've told me, this was not just an ornament. Gifts we received from a person who has since died become some of the most special objects in our lives. For one to break is an emotionally devastating experience. Your reaction was normal, and the fact that you feel such remorse for your actions is a very good sign. Alpine has clearly forgiven you, but you need to forgive yourself, James."
"I don't know if I can."
"I do."
~0~
Bucky's parents hosted Christmas that year. The Rogers, understandably, didn't feel up to decorating this year. He hadn't brought himself to put any of the ornaments back on the tree, so it still stood bare in his living room. After sifting through the Alpine situation, she helped him process some of his other feelings about his first Christmas as a widower, and validated his lack of motivation to redecorate the tree. It accurately represented his mental state; Christmas-ish, but without any of the sparkle.
His parents showered him with hugs and more food than he could ever eat almost as soon as he arrived. The Rogers rolled up only ten minutes later. It was…strange, to have the five of them together without Steve. They already did this on Thanksgiving, but Steve loved Christmas more, there were more traditions associated with the day that could never feel the same. None of them knew quite what to say to each other.
"How does Alpine feel about your Christmas decorations?" Joseph asked.
Bucky knew he assumed that to be as innocuous a topic as possible, but it immediately made his spine lock in terror and shame. He'd told nobody about his outburst except for Dr. Raynor. "He's…curious," was the best Bucky could do without crying on the spot.
When the lack of conversation dragged on just long enough to grow uncomfortable, Mom dragged everybody into the kitchen to bake cookies. Bucky mindlessly completed the tasks she assigned to him, but the staleness in the air was unignorable. Steve's absence was an elephant in the room—or, more accurately, not in the room. When the cookies entered the oven and everyone returned to the living room, Sarah finally dared break the silence.
"This…feels terrible," she said dryly. "I know we all know it, but I just wanted to acknowledge it."
"Yeah, it does," Mom agreed.
"Nothing feels the same. And it never will," Joseph added.
Nobody attempted a pep talk or tried to inject some Christmas cheer into the somber environment. They all recognized the futility of that. Sometimes, wallowing was the only way through. It's a Wonderful Life never graced their screen that day. Watching a movie about a hypothetical death would have wreaked havoc on already fragile hearts. Instead, they put on Elf and tried to let a little of Will Ferrell's joy leech into them. As the movie played, a snowstorm began, heavy enough that by the end of the movie, a few inches had piled up on the ground. Fortunately, the roads had been pre-salted, so they remained free of buildup. Bucky's driveway, however, he knew he'd need to clear himself.
Bucky returned home to find the driveway miraculously already shoveled, and a note from Mr. Hodge both offering to do it anytime it snowed and refusing to be paid for his services. He'd have to renegotiate that arrangement, because that just wasn't fair. But Bucky had more pressing concerns. Beside Mr. Hodge's note sat another of Steve's envelopes. Tears began pouring down his face before he even opened it. The drawing depicted him and Steve snuggled up on the sofa beneath a blanket, Christmas lights twinkling on the tree. Accompanying the sketch was another note:
Dear Bucky,
I can only imagine how hard this first Christmas without me will be for you and our family. Hopefully you and the rest of the Avengers will find some ways to pick out joy among all the sorrow. Promise me you'll listen to at least one abominable Christmas song and think of me while you do it. I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas is my personal favorite, but you can choose whichever you can bear.
I couldn't find a good place to hide a real present where you wouldn't find it, so this drawing will have to suffice. Some of the best moments of my life were the ones where I was cuddled up with you. Hope this makes you feel as close to the real thing as you can.
Merry Christmas,
Steve