Harper Montgomery took a quick glance left and right before bolting across the street. Her boots had just hit curb when a car whizzed behind her. The young woman thought little of it; pedestrians and drivers in the city were always weaving around each other, crosswalks be damned. She adjusted the bag of cat litter perched on her hip before setting off again. Her brain was whirring, turning over the events of the day and trying to commit things to memory. People rushed by in all directions, bustling from one place to another. There was a relaxing anonymity to living in the city, and a comfort to the cacophony outside matching the chaos in her mind. While Bucharest had been a nice city, it didn't compare to being back in Boston.
Her litter carrying arm was just beginning to feel like jelly when the brunette arrived at the front door to her apartment building. A smile tilted her lips as always when she saw the beautiful orange brick structure. A neighbor from the floor above her stopped to hold the front door. Harper offered the neighbor a smile and her appreciation, passing over the threshold and into the lobby of the building. Finally, she arrived at the elevators. It was a short ride up to the fifth floor before the last leg of her journey home, down the long hallway to the corner unit. With only minor fumbling, she had unlocked the door and let herself into her cozy home.
"Hey," she greeted the man on her couch as she toed off her boots. He stood and moved to help her, but she waved him off, scooting herself and the bag of cat litter to the bathroom. An orange and white cat followed at her heels, starting slightly when the heavy bag was dropped to the floor. With a wide grin, Harper greeted, "And how are you, my handsome boy?"
She scooped up the sizable mammal, burying her face in the voluminous tuft of fur on his chest. Kisses were peppered all over the feline's face. He squirmed slightly at the attention, but made no real moves to get away given that he actually thrived off her affection. Harper moved back out into the living space, and asked, "Any news?"
"Still nothing," Steve Rogers replied with a frown. "I was told it could take a while."
"I know," she sighed, unable to quite stave off the disappointment she felt.
"How was your day?"
"Good," she nodded, flopping down on the other end of the couch. "My morning classes were interesting and things went well at work, too. How was yours?"
"Fine," he nodded. "I got out a little bit. It's easy to hide in these crowds. Thanks again for letting me crash here for a bit."
With a chuckle, Harper reminded, "You really don't need to thank me for that every day. I've been really happy to get to know you a bit better. I'm just sorry I couldn't offer you a better place to sleep than the couch."
"It's really not a problem," Steve assured politely.
"James used to insist the same thing. Are you men of the 30's really that polite, or do you just have an affinity for couches?"
"Maybe a bit of both," the blond allowed with a small smile.
"How are your other friends doing?" Harper asked, settling back more comfortably in her perch. Aslan joined her, jumping up into her lap and nuzzling her arm. She gave in almost instantly, indulging him with the ear scratches he wanted.
"Sam and Natasha are fine. They both checked in with me this morning. We're going to meet up in six days. I hope you don't mind being stuck with me until then?"
"You're always welcome here," Harper nodded. With only some hesitation, she admitted, "Your company has been really great. I'd become so used to sharing my space and time with someone else, and it was a little difficult to move here and go back to always being on my own again."
Steve smiled fondly. "Buck's a pretty easy guy to get used to having around."
"He is," Harper agreed.
"I know we've been talking around it, but I do have a question for you. As his best friend, I've gotta ask… Are you really okay, knowing now who he really is?"
"Well, I'll be transparent and say it isn't as if knowing his real identity changes nothing. Obviously it does. Logistically and otherwise," Harper answered. "I'm not naïve enough to think otherwise. But if what you're really asking is if his past changes what I think of him, then no. It just fills in some blanks."
Steve gave her an amused smile, "Yeah, I suppose that is what I was asking."
"I don't know how much you were able to talk to him or how much he told you, if anything, about us," Harper sighed, "but I don't think he truly gets what he means to me, how it's possible that I'd accept him. He has a hard time seeing himself through my eyes, I think. He sees himself as a force of destruction, but he's done nothing but help fix me since we met. He's the most kind, thoughtful, loyal man I have ever met. I'm so fortunate that he allowed me to know him."
Steve was silent for a stretch. Slowly, he replied, "The Bucky I knew before the War was so happy and full of life. He had the most infectious smile. It was one of many reasons all the dames were so drawn to him. But the Bucky I met in D.C. was totally different. He was broken, stripped of hope and any concept of who he was. When we spoke for the first time in Bucharest, he was so defeated, so ready to just disappear. But when we finally got on the jet to head to Siberia, when he spoke of you, some of the old Bucky came back. Thank you for that."
"So any new dudes in your life?"
"Jordan, stop it," Harper frowned.
The other brunette sighed on her end of the call. "You know mom and dad aren't exactly thrilled about who James ended up being, and now he's kinda AWOL so…"
"And you know that I don't ultimately care for their approval when it comes to my life decisions. They're being closed minded."
"Well, it's not that they don't get what happened and they don't blame him for stuff, it's more than they're worried for how the world sees him and, therefore, will see you."
"They don't need to be," Harper sighed, adding another highlighter mark to the text she was skimming. "They should just be happy that an amazing person entered my life and made me happy, supporting me during one of the most difficult experiences I've ever had."
"Yo, I get it," Jordan replied with a chuckle. "Plus he's fuckin' hot so…"
"You're terrible."
"Guilty." Harper could hear the smirk in Jordan's voice. Her sister continued, "Anyway, I just got a text to go meet up with this smokin' dude from my ethics class, so I'm gonna go do that."
"Good catching up with you," Harper rolled her eyes. "Be careful, please."
"Of the two of us, only you can't take hormones!" Jordan said cheerfully. "Bye!"
Harper clucked her tongue and ended the call with a frown. Steve looked up from his seat in the dining room chair across from her. He was poring over some file or another on a tablet that Harper was vaguely impressed he could use with as much ease as he did. He asked, "Are both your sisters that forward?"
"Yeah, shockingly I'm the most reserved sister," Harper chuckled. "James always got a kick out of talking with them. I think because they stroked his ego with all their compliments of his good looks."
"Yeah, that'd get Buck's attention," Steve laughed. Sobering, he revealed, "I'm honestly still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he settled down with one woman for so long. It's so… unlike him. But I guess, really, l need to accept that he isn't the same Bucky anymore."
Harper looked at him for a long moment, considering his words and trying to formulate her own. Finally, she answered, "I can't know for sure, but I don't think that's true. I think that the old Bucky is still very much there. The man I've gotten to know is breathtakingly loyal and protective, kind and selfless, honest and stupidly charming. He loves working out, reading, and movies. He's easygoing and effortless to talk to. Does that ring any bells?" She watched as Steve slowly bobbed his head in affirmation. "I think the difference is that he's out of practice being himself. He didn't get to be Bucky for seven decades and now that he's finally safe and able to do so, he doesn't know how anymore. He been hurt so much, and he's filled with self-hatred, so I think it's natural in a way that he is uncomfortable letting anyone see who he really is – himself included."
The blond Avenger placed his tablet on the table, staring at the screen unseeingly for several long moments. Finally, he conceded, "That's good insight."
Harper shrugged and said, "It's conjecture."
Steve breathed a wry chuckle. "Hell of a theory then."
"Anyway," Harper sighed, set on changing the subject. "Are you sure you're alright after everything that happened in Vienna? Siberia?"
Calculating blue eyes roamed her face looking, she was sure, for an indication of her trustworthiness. She pressed, "I know we've basically only just gotten to know each other, Steve. I ask because I know how much James loves you. The way he talks about you… well, it's made me care for you, too. And anyone who would go to such lengths for him… I'd like to support you in any way that I can. Clearly, since I've been technically harboring a fugitive for nine days and counting."
He visibly relaxed, the tension falling from his shoulders and clenched jaw. With only a light flush of embarrassment staining his cheeks, he said, "Sorry. I do appreciate that you've let me stay here."
"I get it," Harper waved his apology off. "Being on guard is a necessary tool for your survival. It's fine to still be wary of me."
"Still." Steve was silent for a moment before saying, "I'm feeling pretty lost and frustrated. I don't understand this time or the people in it. Everything we did in the Army was for freedom, and everything now is about control. Control of land, control of resources, control of people. Project Insight, the Accords… After D.C., I thought there was a chance of having my best friend back. And after everything that happened a few months ago, he's alive and himself, but still not here. I can't help save him… again."
"Are you referring to what happened on the train?" Harper asked gently.
Steve looked up at her, eyes widened with surprise. "You know about that?"
She nodded. "James told me about it. From how he talked about it, I don't think it even occurred to him that you were unable to prevent him from falling. He holds no ill feelings toward you for anything, that day included. He's loyal to you, Steve, and I'm sure he'd go on that mission again rather than abandon you to it."
After yet another sober silence, the Captain lamented, "That doesn't mean I can't blame myself."
With a sad, ironic smile, Harper muttered, "You two are so alike."
"I understand your frustration-"
"Clearly you don't," Harper snapped. "Clearly, you don't understand any of this."
The doctor let out an annoyed sigh. "Ms Montgomery, I assure you that I do. I know you have been experiencing these headaches and that they are an inconvenience for you, but-"
"They're not an inconvenience," Harper explained, unable to keep the waver of emotion out of her voice. "My life literally comes to a halt when these cycles start."
"Well, you have the injections, and it seems like you're managing off of the six per month that your neurologist is prescribing, so if that is the extent to the inconvenience-"
"That is in no way sufficient to manage a cycle. I pick up my prescription every month so that I have a stock for when a cycle hits. Four months of gathering off his bullshit six units per month prescription for one month of clusters. And even then it's insufficient. Twenty four units to last twenty one plus days means there are only three days in the whole cycle when I can use the two I am allowed to take."
"Are you feeling like you've become dependent on these injections?"
"I'm not addicted to them!" Harper cried, voice rising with her distress.
"Not addiction, dependent on having the medication to relieve your symptoms? Perhaps emotionally? Such that nothing else appears to work because-"
"Are you implying that it's all in my mind?"
"I am just stating there could be a psychological component to your experience, and-"
The brunette seethed, "How dare you!"
"Ma'am, I am going to ask that you stop interrupting me," the doctor scolded, his nose scrunching and lips pursing with irritation.
"I'm not going to sit here and have you invalidate the pain that has negatively impacted my life for the past seven years," Harper shook her head. "Why on earth I can't just get a referral for a headache specialist when I have a longstanding diagnosis is beyond me."
"Because I question the accuracy of that diagnosis. It didn't come from anyone with your medical history or any sort of specialization. I think it's more prudent to work on your pain management skills, maybe connect with a therapist, and-"
"Couldn't a headache specialist tell you if the diagnosis is fitting or not?"
"Technically speaking, but your symptomology doesn't yet merit-"
"You know what? Fuck this," Harper snapped, sliding off the examination table. She hastily pulled her sweatshirt on over the paper medical gown she had donned for the appointment and wiggled her jeans up her legs.
"Calm down, Ms Montgomery," the doctor tried to placate her. "You're being unreasonable."
As she slid her feet into her boots and stuffed her t-shirt into her purse, Harper shot back, "There is nothing unreasonable about what I am feeling. You are erasing and minimizing my pain, and I don't deserve that. You've been of no help in the years I've been seeing you other than the halfhearted referral to a neurologist that has no experience with cluster headaches a few years ago. Now you're refusing to help me cut the bureaucratic red tape of needing your referral to a headache specialist so that I could see someone who can actually help me and still be covered by insurance. Godspeed to any of your other patients whose suffering you refuse to help mitigate, but I will no longer be one of them."
With that, she stormed out of the office, ignored the receptionist's call after her to schedule her next appointment, and stormed her way out of the building. Her boots were perhaps too loud against the concrete as she stomped her way to the nearest T station, bounding down the stairs as the tears finally began to fall from her eyes.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Harper fought back a groan at the question. Evidently, her face still looked a mess. She lifted her fingers to her eyes, gently prodding and finding them to still be swollen. Luck was rarely on her side, after all.
Forcing a smile to her lips, she managed, "Yeah, I'm fine."
Steve lifted a disbelieving brow at her. "Hate to say it, but you don't seem fine."
"I had a shitty appointment with my doctor. Well, the idiot who used to be my doctor," Harper corrected. She shrugged, "Not a big deal."
"You sure?"
"Of course," Harper nodded. "I'm fine."
With a sad smile, Steve asked, "If I was Bucky, would I have gotten the same answer?"
A tight laugh left her lips. With bolstered fondness for the blond man, she admitted, "No, probably not."
"It's been really great getting to spend time with you, Steve," Harper spoke up, passing the super soldier the basket of garlic bread.
"Thanks," he responded to the proffered homemade savory side, accepting the offer. "I'm glad to have gotten to know you, too."
He took a large forkful of lasagna, placing it in his mouth. His eyes widened slightly and he hurried to chew it down so he could declare, "This is delicious, Harper. How is everything you cook so good?"
Harper flushed lightly at the compliment and said, "I don't know about that. But I hope that you know you're more than welcome back at any time."
"Thank you," Steve said again, hurriedly loading his fork again.
They ate in companionable silence for a moment before Steve laid his fork down with a sigh. "Harper, I don't know how to say this without sounding rude, but I have no idea when I'll next be back. I can't leave without this on the table."
"Then have it out, Steve," Harper nodded, having expected some sort of interrogation from the soldier at some point before his departure.
"You seem like a really great gal," he started off gently, though there was little friendliness in his eyes. He was all business. "But I need to know if you are serious about Bucky even now that you know who he is. I know you think similarly of him, but I need to know that you're sincere in your feelings and that you understand all of the implications.
"There's no telling how long it's going to take for the Winter Soldier programming to be removed. Are you really willing to wait that long for Buck? And there's no telling if he's ever actually going to be completely safe. Can you handle that? The public is afraid of him. Associating with him could mean the loss of some of your family, friends, and colleagues because of how people view him. Is he worth that to you? And you said yourself that he's got a lot to work through after everything that's happened to him. Are you ready for that?"
Harper chewed at her bread idly for a moment, wheels turning as she tried to decide how to respond. She was torn on how to feel about the super soldier's line of questioning. They were worthwhile questions, surely, crafted in the best interest of the friend who had become his brother. But there were implications about her character within his questions that part of her bristled at. Placing the remainder of her bread on her plate, she took a silent, steadying breath through her nose. Evenly, she replied, "Waiting is no obstacle. James is the only man I've ever dated. Relationships weren't a priority at any point in my life, and it wasn't my intention with him. But it happened, and the idea of finding something comparable is laughable. I spent almost two years in close contact with him, Steve, and trust him completely. As far as approval and opinions about him, and me by extension, I truly don't care. Anybody expressing that level of ignorance is not someone I'd like to associate with.
"I don't appreciate your question of my feelings for him, though I do understand that you don't really know me. I also don't appreciate the suggestion that I would be unwilling to stay with James because he still needs to reconcile with his traumas. I dare say I have a better understanding of his demons than you do currently, through no fault of your own of course. But the fact remains that I am fully aware of what being by his side entails. I have my own demons that he has adamantly stood by me to face, and I have every intention of doing the same for him. Words can only get me so far, so I can only say that I love him dearly and hope that in time you will come to see that."
There was a pregnant pause in which the pair simply sat still, gazes locked. Finally, Steve smiled. Harper mirrored him, a sense of victory washing over her. The Captain chuckled and said, "I'm sure you'll provide me with plenty of proof."
A/N: To everyone returning to this story, I am so thankful! I know it's been a while. Grad school is kicking my butt, which has really slowed me down. I don't want to post any story that I haven't already finished writing, which is not a great match with my slowed down pace. To mediate that a little bit, I've decided that this will be a three part story. This sequel is shorter than Deserving, but is fully written and ready to go up. My current plan is to post on Tuesdays and Fridays. I'm excited to continue Bucky and Harper's journey and hope you'll stick with me!
I'd also like to note some content warnings for this story: language, adult situations and themes, chronic pain, discussion of mental health.