A/N: Sometimes I update regularly, and this is one of those times. This chapter is kind big, but I think it's one of my favorites so far. Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, favorite and follows. The last few weeks have been wildly busy and pretty unpleasant, so the extra love goes a long way. Extra thanks to beta-extraordinaire Stencil Your Heart the enabler of my new Star Wars obsession and for putting up with my sometimes-horrendous moods.
Warning – this fic just got bumped to M for good reason *wink*
Chapter is titled for the Cardigans hit from the 90's, which I incidentally love.
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. If I did TFTWS would have gone a lot differently.
Chapter 11 - Lovefool
Sadie's back hit the mat with a hard thud that reverberated through her entire chest, knocking the air clear out of her lungs. A pitiful rush of wheezy air exited her body when she rolled onto her side, propping herself up by the elbow. Her legs felt stiff and useless and her ribcage complained loudly with every panting breath she took. For a split second she wondered if she'd accidentally broken something but almost as soon as the pain threatened to reach a new peak it receded, vanishing into nothing even while she continued to breathe hard. The ebb and flow of pain through her body was a curious thing, a still inexplicable application of her powers that she'd still yet to get a grasp on. One second she was stunned by the pain and the next she felt perfectly fine, as though Bishara, her trainer, hadn't just taken Sadie's knees out with a ruthless, easy sweep of her leg.
The woman in question's hand appeared in Sadie's face, wiggling her fingers in an invitation. Trying her best not to grunt or let her frustration show too much, Sadie accepted the hand and Bishara pulled her to her feet. A pinched expression knotted her brows together and exaggerated the hollows in her cheeks; by her estimate, Sadie had spent almost as much time on the mat as she had actually walking through each sparring pass that Bishara was trying to hammer into her. Not that Bishara cared about that in the slightest.
"Again," the Dora Milaje trainee commanded, stepping her foot out to slide into her starting position so flawlessly, Sadie wondered if she came out of the womb knowing how to fight.
A rare complaint forced its way through Sadie's usually unflappable facade. "Don't you ever get tired?"
She earned nothing but a lopsided smirk that bordered on arrogance in return. Sadie supposed that Bishara earned the right to be superior; after all, she was an expert in hand-to-hand combat, trained to be a stone cold warrior who could take down anyone who dared cross her or threaten Wakanda. But Bishara also possessed a wicked sense of humor and she had zero intention of walking on eggshells, even when it came to her new, unusual student.
"Aren't you supposed to be enhanced?"
Her barb broke Sadie's rapidly souring mood and she barked out a laugh between labored breaths.
"I'm a fast healer." Sadie stepped into her defensive position, bracing herself to fend off each of Bishara's carefully calculated attacks. She raised her hands, softened her knees and did her best to keep her shoulders relaxed, though that was far easier said than done. "But I'm no super soldier."
Bishara struck out first and Sadie deflected the hit, allowing her hand to glance off her forearm, the first in a pattern of movements they'd been practicing to help Sadie master the basics. She realized early on that fighting was similar to dancing. There was a specific technique for every block, strike, and step; but unlike the waltz or jazzy swing steps that Sadie still knew by heart, she had a lot to learn in order to master even the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Though she didn't expect something as complicated as this would be easy to pick up, she'd hoped that she was more of a natural than she was proving to be. Sadie could spin around a dance floor and never get dizzy and she could follow her partner though a wild array of constantly changing steps while expertly navigating a crowded dance floor. But on the practice mat with Bishara, Sadie felt awkward and slow, as though her body was rejecting the very notion of what she was trying to learn. Still, much like leading and following, there was a progression to every sequence they practiced and being on the defensive meant following and Sadie was used to following. She continued to try and block Bishara's barrage, desperate to remember the notes and corrections the young trainee gave her after every pass they took.
Sadie tried to remember to always keep one hand up to protect her face even as she tried to watch for the micro-cues in Bishara's body movement to signal her next move but, as had inevitably happened every time they switched from punching bags and dummies to sparring, Sadie missed a cue. Bishara took the opportunity and caught a blow across Sadie's undefended right side. The force knocked her off balance and she fell sideways, slamming her left shoulder into the mat. Lurching to sit up, Sadie winced and rolled the joint out, feeling the pull of the scar tissue on her shoulder blade, a souvenir from Okinawa. Interestingly enough, while she could easily shake off the rest of the aches and pains from her various tumbles, the sites of her old injuries were tougher to manage and the pain lingered there long after her training sessions ended.
"Yeah," Bishara stood above Sadie, hands planted firmly on her hips. "You're definitely no super soldier."
Bishara was joking but there was no way she could imagine Sadie's relief upon learning this truth. And if her truly abysmal first attempts at learning how to fight were any indication, there wasn't an ounce of enhanced strength or heightened reflexes and speed in her entire body.
Sadie didn't wait for a hand up. She pushed herself to her feet and just barely slid into a ready stance, jerking her head to the side, just narrowly missing Bishara's well-aimed lightning fast jab.
"All I know is you should be black and blue after our sessions and look at you-" she gestured to Sadie's pale, unblemished skin bared by her short-sleeved shirt and cropped leggings, an offering sent to her by Okoye in preparation for her training. The light fabric, though it revealed more of Sadie's figure than she had ever shown in public before, was breathable and easy to move in. She thought of the thick, dowdy uniforms she'd had to wear during calisthenics in bootcamp and they were laughable compared to the clothing she wore now. "Not a single bruise. I'm genuinely disappointed."
"I hate being a disappointment," Sadie teased.
Bishara rewarded her with a broad smile, showing off her pearly white, slightly off-center teeth. They finished their progression and walked away from each other to take a beat. Sadie plucked a towel off the floor to wipe the sweat from her brow, impatiently shoving her ponytail over her shoulder. The hairstyle, while endlessly practical, was still something of a novelty to Sadie. She was used to securing her hair with a mouthful of hair pins and praying it would keep through entire shifts at the hospital. Being able to tie her hair away with a single elastic band took a little getting used to but Sadie came to appreciate the convenience, even if the overall look wasn't the most attractive.
"You're actually doing better than I expected."
"I am?"
"Oh yeah. When General Okoye told me I was going to be training a one-hundred year old white girl I thought 'there is no way she can keep up.' You still have a long, long, long way to go but at least you're not hobbling in on a walker and trying to tell me a bunch of stories about the good old days"
Sadie rolled her eyes. "I could have done without the one-hundred year old bit."
"Those are the facts."
Sadie might have been offended if not for the waggle of Bishara's heavy eyebrows. Sadie took a long pull of water from her bottle before she relented and returned to the mat. Bishara waited for her there, adorned in a bright red Dora Milaje training uniform that did everything to enhance her statuesque beauty and intimidating stance. It did not escape Sadie that Bishara was holding back exclusively for her benefit. If the woman wanted, she could easily overpower, even kill Sadie with her bare hands in a matter of minutes. But she simply raised a hand, beckoning Sadie to return.
"What you lack in skill you make up for in drive, which is perhaps more important. By the time I'm finished, you'll be well-trained. I promise."
Judging from Bishara's excellent technique and even more impressive restraint, Sadie didn't doubt her in the slightest but one question remained.
"Out of curiosity, what did you do to get stuck working with me?"
"Nothing," she repositioned Sadie's hands. "General Okoye asked me to train you. There is no greater demonstration of skill than the ability to effectively teach it to someone. I'm actually at the top of my class when it comes to combat." Rather than linger on this new revelation, she plowed on. "Okay, we're going to switch sides now and you're going to go on the attack."
Sadie furrowed her brows. Their handful of sessions up to this point focused on defense and preventing attacks, not necessarily instigating them. Sadie was beginning to get her head around the fundamentals of blocking and deflecting strikes but being the one to land them was a different thing entirely.
"I thought the best offense is a good defense?"
Bishara made a sarcastic face. "What? No. The best offense is a good offense. Now stand with your dominant leg slightly forward. When you strike with your right hand, you keep your left arm raised. Always protect your face and your head. The tide of a fight can turn at any time and you should never let your guard down."
That was sound advice if Sadie ever heard it. She allowed Bishara to guide her through new movements, slowing down each punch and jab as Sadie made them to show her where to adjust her body until she was satisfied. Working at a near glacial pace, Sadie practiced each maneuver, using Bishara's hands as targets to land each hit. The time slipped by at a rapid pace until the alarm on Bishara's Kimoyo beads went off.
"And that's time," she announced and swiped the alarm away. Sadie ran her hands over the top of her head, releasing a breath and earned what looked to be a pitying smile from her trainer. "It wasn't awful."
"Bishara," Sadie deadpanned, shaking her head. "I'm terrible."
The corner of Bishara's mouth lifted. She shrugged one shoulder to concede the argument. "Okay, yes, you are. Fighting is muscle memory and you haven't had decades to learn it like the rest of us. I bet even in the army you weren't learning how to fight."
"No, my line of work was more about fixing the damage from fights, not causing it."
"Which is arguably more noble," Bishara pointed out. She clapped Sadie's shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "You will get there."
"Well, when I do, I promise to give you all the credit."
"You'd better." Bishara gave her a playful wink. "You're pretty spry for an old girl though, I'll give you that."
Sadie's scowl only provoked musical laughter and they walked to the doors that would take them in separate directions, Bishara back to the Dora Milaje barracks and Sadie to her small corner of the palace. "I thought Wakandans were big on respecting their elders?"
"Oh, I respect you, Sadie. Imagine how much harder our sessions would be if I didn't."
With a final nod of her shaved head and the promise of meeting the following morning, Bishara took her leave. Sadie watched her retreat for a few seconds before she turned away and started up the several flights of stairs until she reached her floor. Her stomach growled as she climbed, reminding her that the pear she ate when she woke was hardly much of a breakfast. She could have sped things along by taking the elevator yet, since regaining her strength, Sadie liked walking. She liked how quiet the residential floors were during the day, the hallways yawning wide to allow her to move in silence, a ghost passing unseen.
Or at least Sadie felt like a phantom until she let herself into the common area only to discover Bucky standing at the counter in the kitchen area. She drew to a halt, drawing in a tremulous breath that unsettled her lungs more than all of her exertions over the last hour combined. They'd barely seen each other since their conversation outside of Shuri's lab a few days earlier. Ayo had taken him away from the city for a couple of days to continue working on his deprogramming and Sadie took his absence as a moment to catch her breath and regain her bearings. Just the sight of him upright and breathing was enough to take her breath away. Even with long hair and the beginnings of a full beard, he was ludicrousy handsome, from the crystalline color of his blue eyes to his full mouth, drawn into a scowl that she wanted nothing more than to kiss away. Everything about Bucky drew her in, begging her to open the closed door of their love. But the door was locked and she had no clue where to even begin looking for the key. Sadie couldn't force that door open any more than she could make him fall in love with her again.
Still, seeing him in the kitchen area was a nice change. Even with a stack of history and nursing textbooks to keep her busy at night, she felt the sting of loneliness all the same. Somehow, when Bucky was in the palace and even when he was down the corridor shut away in his own quarters, Sadie felt less alone. She took a small measure of comfort in knowing that if she really needed something, she could go to him. And there was always the chance, however razor thin, that he would do the same if he ever decided he needed her.
For the moment he didn't realize she was there and she pulled up short, fighting a small smile. Blissfully unaware of her lingering gaze, Bucky cursed under his breath while he pushed his fork around a plate of...well to be honest, Sadie wasn't sure what he was trying to eat. The formless pile looked yellow with several browned edges to go with the slightly burnt smell permeating the kitchen.
As if he sensed her amusement, Bucky's eyes snapped up and zeroed in on her.
"Welcome back," she said, passing her water bottle from one hand to the other.
"Uh-thanks. I didn't know you were up," he glanced back down at what Sadie thought was maybe scrambled eggs and then to her. She did not miss the flicker of his eyes, drinking in her face, cheeks still pink from her training, and down the length of her body where her shirt hugged her frame then down to her legs, on full display in her black leggings. Sadie might have been embarrassed at him seeing her figure so blatantly exposed but then she reasoned that he'd seen her naked dozens of times. Surely Bucky still possessed those memories and if he did then there really wasn't much difference in seeing her this way now. A whole new barrage of mental images came to her now, of his hands on her body and the feel of his hot skin against hers, moving together, being together. She hastily unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and raised it to her lips to hide the flush in her cheeks that now had nothing to do with training. Bucky blinked at her and then deflated, returning to scowl at his paltry breakfast but she did not miss the bob of his throat when he swallowed hard. "Cooking isn't one of my strengths."
Sadie took the innocent opening and ran with it.
"Oh, I know," she let him see her friendly smile now and she took his admission as an invitation to join him in the kitchen. "We all used to dread it when your rotation for KP duty came up in the field."
Bucky rolled his eyes and a glimmer of a grin played at his mouth. Even his retort bore shades of his former self. "You did not."
"We absolutely did," she argued and bypassed him to open the refrigerator. From within the depths she produced a handful of ingredients and set them on the counter next to the stove. "Evelyn and I used to pack extra rations whenever we knew your turn was coming up."
"Well, that makes me feel so much better now, thanks," Bucky groused but sounded far from wounded.
Her grin only widened and she commandeered the skillet he'd previously used and washed. "I wouldn't be too upset. Steve was even worse than you - Evelyn actually came up with excuses to keep him away from the food."
When Bucky chuckled, she almost came out of her skin. He was standing close to her, much closer than she anticipated, watching her go through the motions of dicing a fat tomato and slicing a handful of spinach leaves into neat ribbons. There were certain kitchen skills that were hard to forget, especially growing up in her mother's kitchen where she learned. Just like dancing and fighting, so much of cooking was muscle memory and instinct, managing smooth cuts with a knife and knowing exactly when the butter in her skillet was hot enough to pour the eggs in.
"You don't have to tell me. I lived with Steve before the war broke out. Most mornings it was burnt toast and cold coffee." Sadie fought a smile. She was glad to hear the little details, pieces of stories she'd heard before and bits of memories that Bucky cherished back then. She pushed the edge of her spatula through the eggs, pushing up soft, pale yellow curds and carefully tilting the pan to allow the remaining liquid to fill the new gaps. Bucky planted his hip against the counter a few feet away from her, watching her hands intently. "Where'd you learn?"
They'd had this conversation before. During their time together, Bucky asked her a litany of questions about southern living and the differences between Arkansas and New York. He'd been so curious early on in their relationship, wanting to know about the food she ate, the things she did for fun, and the places she went. At one point they'd planned out their trip to Little Rock and she found it particularly endearing when Bucky expressed his nerves about being the odd man out amongst a sea of southern gentleman, each a hundred times more refined than he ever was. She'd chased away his worries with a few sweet words and the sweep of her fingers through his hair, promising that she would take his rough and tumble Brooklyn ways over stuffy genteel manners any day. It twisted her heart, knowing that trip was never meant to be.
Sadie didn't expect him to remember all of their conversations and she certainly didn't mind answering his rehashed questions. At least he was talking to her and engaging with her and she would repeat a hundred of their old talks just for that.
"My mother taught me. And her mother taught her before that and so on and so forth. Cooking in the south is just something you do. It's part of your identity, though I was never as good at it as my mother or grandmother."
"Well, nobody ever dreaded your rotation on KP duty so you must have been doing something right."
Her light laughter felt so wonderful. For a moment she felt like they were something closer to their old selves, talking with unpracticed ease. She realized then that along with everything else about their love she desperately missed, she also missed laughing with him, cracking jokes on early mornings in the field or sharing secret amused looks in the SSR bunker whenever Steve struck out with Peggy for the umpteenth time. There were so many private jokes that existed between them, born from their many misadventures in London and the tiny, playful little barbs they often traded. To hear Bucky laugh and elicit one from her left Sadie feeling lighter than she had in weeks.
"Plates?"
Bucky retrieved two for her and she tipped half of the eggs onto each plate and sprinkled salt and pepper over the top along with a handful of tomatoes, spinach, and grated white cheese.
"There," she set a plate in front of Bucky. "Better than whatever that is." He cast a disparaging look towards his sad attempt. A tiny smile played at his lips as he regarded his far more palatable replacement.
"Thanks for taking pity on me."
Sadie speared a tomato cube with her fork and grinned at him before popping it in her mouth. "Remind me and I'll teach you sometime. Everyone should know how to scramble eggs."
"Yeah, that'd be nice." A dormant ember buried in her chest flickered just a little bit in the face of his genuine response. Sadie felt something shift between them, as though a plate of ruined eggs was enough to bring them one step closer together. Whatever the reason, she felt less stilted and awkward and he wasn't standing quite so ramrod straight as before. For the first time since they reunited, the pair fell into truly comfortable silence, eating their breakfast in peace. Eventually, Bucky found his voice.
"Did Shuri summon you to the lab?"
Sadie thought being summoned was an excellent way to describe Shuri's call to action. The princess had an uncanny ability to give orders and Sadie had woken up that morning to a message waiting for her on the tablet Shuri insisted she have. Sadie only managed to find the message because Shuri had programmed the tablet to play an obnoxious sound while the screen flashed, rudely waking Sadie from a rare, dreamless sleep.
"She did. Now that I'm back to full health, she wants to start trying to tap into my so-called powers to see what I can do."
The corner of Bucky's mouth turned downward. He couldn't quite meet her eye. "What is she expecting?"
Sadie shrugged. "I have no earthly idea. A few weeks ago I managed to channel enough power to chase away a headache. Everyone seems to think I can heal other people too, so maybe that's what she wants to test, though I don't know how."
Bucky's frown deepened. The tip of her fingers itched to ease the lines on his forehead. It didn't escape her notice that the mere mention of her enhancements vanished the previously easy atmosphere between them. Sadie wished she understood why he suddenly soured. Was it the mere notion that she, too, had fallen victim to HYDRA's experimentation? As far as they both knew, Bucky had absolutely zero control over what happened to her and yet he still appeared to feel guilty about what happened and that she was now yet another enhanced, outlandishly young war veteran.
And they'd been having such a nice breakfast too! The peaceful atmosphere was so welcome, Sadie loathed watching it go. Even still, she'd be lying if she said it didn't hurt knowing he wouldn't drop a quick kiss on the top of her head or try to distract her from scrambling the eggs by wrapping his arm around her waist. A cruel irony existed in the moment. All the time they were trapped under the war's thumb, she imagined a future full of these quiet mornings together, sharing breakfast and talking about their days. Now that she had it, it was nothing like what she imagined and it was painfully devoid of what she wanted most. Sadie just wanted her Bucky; she wanted him to steal the last few pieces of tomato off her plate when she wasn't looking or grasp her wrist to tug her back to him for a long, lazy kiss before she could leave to start her day.
Learning to be happy with the miracle she did have was harder than she imagined, but she knew it was necessary. If she couldn't have the Bucky who loved her and shamelessly worshipped the ground she walked on, then she was going to have to learn to accept and love this Bucky, a man who could, if she was patient, become her friend once again. For now it would have to be enough to navigate these uncharted, often uncomfortable waters and do little things like ask him about his day.
"Does Shuri have big plans for you today?"
He nodded. "Apparently she has a bunch of exercises lined up to help me with memory recovery."
Bucky toyed with the final piece of tomato on his place, tipping it over and over with the tines of his fork. A nervous energy rolled off him, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to continue talking or cut and run. Eventually he speared the tomato and ate it, debating with himself while he chewed until he came to a silent decision. His eyes found hers, tentative as he searched her face for any sign of her mood. "We can go over together, if you want."
The offer caught her off guard. Sadie wasn't sure what prompted Bucky's sudden turn toward being more sociable but she wondered if it had to do with their uncomfortable encounter a few days earlier or perhaps something that happened while he was off in the Wakandan wilderness with Ayo. Despite the clear violation of his wishes, he'd let Shuri off without a word and appeared less agitated after he spent some time away from the city and the lab. Perhaps he sensed a shift between them and didn't want to let things get worse than they already were. Whatever the reason, Sadie wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and so she nodded, collecting his empty plate and hers.
"Of course. I just need to clean up."
She bent down to put the plates in the dishwasher, perhaps one of the most fantastic inventions she'd missed during her decades of sleep. When she turned back around, she just barely caught Bucky's eyes flickering back up to be level with her face. She knew she didn't imagine the pink tinge to his cheeks.
"Sounds good," he said, far too quickly for sincerity. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. "I've got some stuff to take care of too."
Bucky left without another word, leaving Sadie slack-jawed in the kitchen. A frown started to tug at her lips and she wondered what on earth happened to change his behavior so drastically but then she caught her reflection in the windows next to the kitchen. The realization dawned on her like a hot summer morning, sending a scalding flush racing up from the pit of her stomach, spreading across her upper chest and staining her cheeks. There, plain as day, she could see her figure on full display, including her backside cast in a particularly shapely light by her leggings. Turning a little to get a better look at herself, Sadie now understood exactly what he'd been looking at and exactly why he was in such a hurry to leave her.
More surprising than that was the tiny smile that tugged at her lips. Perhaps she liked leggings for more reasons than one.
X X X
Bucky was no stranger to embarrassing moments. Growing up with Steve Rogers for a best friend tended to lead to awkward black eyes from back alley fights and double dates that ended in disaster. If he recalled correctly, and he knew he did, Rebecca also provided her fair share of mortifying moments, interrupting him trying to sneak a date into the apartment or chasing after him and Steve, shouting his name at the top of her lungs. But Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever been so utterly and completely, I-want-to-crawl-in-a-hole-and-die embarrassed as he was now, striding down the short hallway to the safety of his room.
Multiple lines of thought crashed into each other, creating a spectacular traffic jam in his head but the predominant thought of all was what the fuck had he been thinking? Sneaking subtle glances when Sadie wasn't looking was one thing. Admiring her from afar was perfectly acceptable, if a bit pathetic. But checking out her ass in the middle of the kitchen, just because she happened to turn around to load the goddamn dishwasher wasn't just scraping the bottom of the barrel, it was cutting a hole in the bottom of the barrel and crawling into the filth beneath it. Just because she was wearing such form-fitting clothing didn't give him free license to ogle her like some hard-up private getting a look at a pretty girl for the first time after spending weeks on the front line. In his estimation, the situation was made even worse by the fact that she wasn't just any strange woman. Sadie was his ex-fiance and when he was staring at her ass, all he could think about was the fact that in a different life he would have given her a playful squeeze or let his less-than-honorable thoughts carry both of them back to his bed.
As soon as he shut his door he crossed the room and collapsed on his bed and looked down, fighting a mortified groan. This was a dangerous side-effect of getting too close to Sadie, of allowing himself to lower his guard even just a little bit. Somehow, when Ayo encouraged him to accept his newfound freedom, he didn't think this is what the warrior had in mind. Bucky was trying. He was trying to ease off his hesitance and give into just a little bit of his longing to be closer to Sadie. After all, as Ayo wisely pointed out, Sadie was someone who genuinely wanted to help him and was asking for absolutely nothing in return. They had shared life experience and, if he was willing to be open, she could help him fit some of the scattered pieces of his life back together. So he'd decided to take a risk that morning and place himself in her path. But there was one spectacular downside to this new strategy and he had all the evidence he needed in his erection, aching and straining against the front of his pants.
How on earth was he supposed to befriend Sadie all over again when he was so damned attracted to her? The quite literal rise she got out of him was so potent he had trouble standing next to her just to watch her scramble eggs and he couldn't even sneak a gander at her shapely ass without winding up scrambling to escape lest she see his hard on. Bucky blamed part of that on decades of forced abstinence that left him perpetually hard up for companionship but also more sensitive than a half pulled-trigger. But he knew part of it was just good, old-fashioned attraction. Maybe he didn't know what to make of his feelings for her but physical attraction had absolutely nothing to do with his gnarled emotions and it wasn't a switch he could turn off either. Bucky couldn't help being attracted to Sadie any more than he could help the way his body responded to her.
To make matters infinitely worse, his returned memories were both a blessing and a curse. He didn't need to resort to half-formed fantasies about what it might be like to act on his wanting. Bucky knew exactly what it was like to peel the layers of her clothing off and run his hands over her body. Even though those sacred moments were from a lifetime ago, the trails she wore on his body remained, her touch a miraculous little slice of heaven lighting up the darkness wrought on him by so many bombs and bullets. Sometimes little things that happened in the present sparked old memories and as Sadie bent down in the kitchen, unconsciously giving him a spectacular view, one very specific moment of their shared history bloomed to life in his mind. Even though he couldn't exactly remember why he and Sadie were in Howard's office, he could remember the thrill of locking the door and coaxing Sadie into taking a big risk. Just the mental image of her stripped down to nothing but her garter belt and stockings, spread out in Howard's chair while he worked her to climax was enough. Ignoring the complete inappropriateness of his situation and actions, Bucky unbuttoned his pants and wrapped his hand around his hard length.
Bucky stroked himself, setting a rapid pace, spurred on by the memory and wishing with every fiber of his being that someone else's hands were on him instead. Or better yet, he wished he could replicate that night in Howard's office. He could hear Sadie's breathy moans and cries as she came hard against his mouth. Bucky couldn't believe he ever forgot about the way she looked when he bent her over the desk, the seams of her stockings running up the back of her slim legs, a fantasy from his wildest and dirtiest dreams come true.
He grunted and thrust harder into his hand, eyes screwed shut tight while he tried to live in one of the few truly pleasant corners of his mind. Even reliving the memory of fucking Sadie from behind against Howard's desk was enough to push him right to the edge of release. If he concentrated hard enough, he swore he could still feel her tight muscles contract around him and the sounds she made drove his desire to a fever pitch. She'd been so eager and responsive, her hips banging against the desk drawers, hands grasping for the top edge of the desk while her hair spilled across the desktop in thick curls.
Unconsciously he picked up the pace, gripping himself just a little tighter, dragging his thumb over his sensitive tip. Bucky wanted her that way just as badly now as he'd wanted her then. And it was the presence of his memories that conjured up a brand new fantasy, filling him with longing to march down the hallway separating them, back Sadie onto her bed, peel those wonderful yet godforsaken leggings off and bury his face between her legs.
That thought did him in and with a final, long stroke he fell apart, releasing every ounce of tension holding his taut muscles together. Bucky melted down into his mattress, wiping his hand off on his t-shirt. His eyes fluttered shut again and for a long time he lay utterly still, lost in a sea of fragmented thoughts.
"Fuck," he muttered to his ceiling.
Despite the almost liquid consistency of his muscles and the levity that came from giving himself some much needed relief, Bucky didn't feel any less mortified. Already he felt the high tide of guilt washing in from the periphery of his mind.
Bucky knew he couldn't control his attraction to Sadie but he felt guilty capitalizing on their shared history all the same. In one way he knew he was being irrational. Those were his memories just as much as hers and arguably he could do whatever he wanted with them. And yet, he wondered if Sadie would feel the same way, especially if she knew how often he'd stolen away to his room just so he could get off to the myriad of times they'd slept together in the past.
"In another life," he mumbled to himself.
Although he wanted nothing more than to stay hidden away for the rest of the day, Bucky eventually forced himself to his feet. He'd been the one to extend the olive branch to Sadie, suggesting they go down to Shuri's lab together. Bucky couldn't very well back out on her now. While he cleaned up, he gave himself an internal lecture on how that had to be the last time would let his gaze slip. Interludes like this couldn't become a regular habit because sooner or later she was going to figure out what his problem was and Bucky could only imagine that sinking into the floor and dying had to be less painful; it was certainly less mortifying. By the time he was dressed in fresh clothes with a loop of fabric swathed over his shoulder plate, he felt reasonably confident that he could keep himself in check.
"Just, keep your shit together," he told himself before he exited his room only to grind to a halt when he reached the common area.
Keeping his shit together would be so much easier if Sadie didn't go around wearing blue dresses that hugged her frame, complementing her stormy eyes and kicking his heart into a gallop. When she smiled at him, he swore he was on the verge of swooning. And as she led the way to the transport that would take them to the lab, the only thing Bucky could think was that he was in so much trouble where Sadie Reid was concerned.
But as he watched her smiling out into the glorious morning, Bucky was beginning to wonder if that was such a bad thing after all.
X X X
"Anything yet?"
Sadie was beginning to regret coming to Wakanda and she was also beginning to wonder just how much trouble would befall her if she taped Shuri's mouth shut. From where she sat on a padded stool, eyes closed she could feel Shuri's buzzy presence, hovering around her like a child's wind-up toy that literally never stopped. Even with her eyes closed, Sadie could clearly picture her face, scrunched up in a concentrated frown while she crossed her arms over her chest, displeasure growing with every minute that passed that Sadie failed to tap into her alleged powers.
"You know, I don't know how this works," Sadie pointed out, daring to crack one eye open. "And you crowding me probably isn't helping."
"Observation is one of the first rules of science," Shuri argued. "You can't see the outward physical manifestation of your enhancements if you're focusing inward. So, you need someone to do it for you." Sadie thought that was just Shuri's polite way of saying 'over my dead body am I leaving you alone.' "Besides, nobody knows how this works."
"Wanda Maximoff does." Sadie opened her eyes and zeroed in on Bucky, who looked, if possible, even more harried than she felt. He sat at the table on the far side of the lab, staring at the enormous clear board Shuri conjured up for him. As the afternoon wore on his handwriting had gotten progressively less neat, scribbling down dates and abbreviations for various events in his life, doing his best to follow Shuri's directive of putting it all in order. How that was supposed to help him, Sadie wasn't totally sure but while she expected him to be an even bigger roadblock to her concentration, she found that he was the least of her worries.
"Well, do you see Miss Maximoff here?" Shuri countered.
Bucky kicked one of his long legs out, sinking deeper into his seat. "I didn't say she could help. I just pointed out that she probably knows how all that voodoo works."
"It's not voodoo," both women argued at the same time and Bucky held his hand up in mock defense, though Sadie swore she saw his mouth toying with a wicked grin.
"Aren't you supposed to be working on that?" Shuri pointed behind him to the board.
Sadie bit the inside of her cheek to cage a smile when Bucky rose from his seat. The slight saunter in his step was achingly familiar. With a haircut and a change of clothes, he could have been the same cocky soldier who swaggered over to her like he owned the place in the NYPOE.
"It's kind of hard to focus when you're being so-" His blue eyes widened and he made a funny face, gesturing to her frenetic nature. Sadie couldn't help it, her facade cracked and she laughed. Both Bucky and Shuri wheeled their attention to her and Sadie shrugged.
"He's not wrong. It's hard to concentrate! I just don't understand what to look for. Maybe it's just not there."
"Oh, it's there," Shuri countered. "I saw it myself the day I deprogrammed Sergeant Barnes."
Sadie's whole body went ramrod straight at the same time Bucky frowned in confusion. "What? What's that supposed to mean?"
Shuri volleyed between the pair. "You didn't-oh right, I forgot, you two barely talk now." Before either of them could open their mouths to argue, she plowed on. "I guess I never mentioned this but during the early phase of running the algorithm, you started to seize." The way Bucky's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline in surprise told Sadie that Shuri absolutely hadn't filled him in on the gory details. "Nurse Reid stepped in and helped stabilize you and while she was doing that, I saw it myself - green light coming off her fingers and into your body. And just like that-" she snapped her fingers triumphantly "-you were back to normal."
Bucky stared at Sadie. "Really?"
"I don't know," Sadie replied, feeling extremely uncomfortable that she'd been put on the spot. "I didn't see it for myself."
"Well I did," said Shuri smugly. "And I know you have powers. Maybe you just need the right incentive."
Both Sadie and Bucky blinked at Shuri. Bucky frowned and moved to cross his arm over his chest before he stopped himself and settled for shoving his hand in his pocket. "The right inventive? What the hell does that mean?"
Sadie did not like the way Shuri clenched her jaw, viewing Bucky as though he were about to be her own obstacle to getting what she wanted. The two of them stared each other down and Sadie felt helpless, caught in the middle of a power struggle between two people, neither of whom had any idea how to help her any more than she knew how to help herself.
"She healed you in the heat of the moment." Shuri pointed toward Sadie and she felt even more diminished. It was one thing for them to argue about the general existence of her powers and the inability to access them. But it was another for either of them to simply pretend that Sadie was inconsequential to the conversation.
"Okay, great, how is that supposed to help now?"
If Sadie weren't so offended by the way she'd been relegated to a footnote of this particular argument she might have smiled at Bucky's overt snark, all white mocking eyes and snarl.
"Maybe that is what it takes. Maybe the reason you can't access your powers is because you're not motivated."
Shuri stalked to the other side of her lab and yanked a drawer open. Both Sadie and Bucky lurched into action at the same time, scrambling to get to Shuri and shouting for her to stop but they were too late. Shuri took a shiny scalpel and closed her palm over it. A shout escaped her gritted teeth as she pulled her palm over the blade. The bloody blade dropped to the floor with a light clatter and Shuri exhaled a hard gasp, breathing hard through the pain.
"What is wrong with you!" Bucky shouted. "You don't just-what the fuck are you thinking!"
Shuri ignored Bucky. She turned to Sadie and held out her open palm, revealing the deep, bloody gash.
"Heal it."
Sadie gaped at her. "I don't-have you lost your mind?"
"You used your powers on Bucky the day I purged his trigger words. I saw it and so did everyone else in the lab. You saved him, so I know you can heal other people. You say you don't know how to access your powers? Maybe you haven't had a good enough reason and now you do. If you don't heal this, I'm risking neurological damage and permanent numbness at the wound site, am I correct?"
"Yes, of course you are because you just sliced through some of the most sensitive nerves in your entire body like a complete idiot!" Sadie snapped, feeling her frustration well up and pushing her, yet again, to the edge of tears.
"Then you'd better fix it."
Sadie felt a hand at her shoulder. Lifting her chin, she found Bucky next to her and to her complete astonishment he was the Bucky she remembered, her Bucky, the man who stood in her corner always and would defend her until his last breath. His eyes were as hard as sapphires and she could see a vein jumping out just beneath his jaw. Bucky was about as angry as she'd ever seen him but his touch was gentle, inviting her in the same way that it had during the war. Back then it didn't matter how many enemy soldiers Bucky ruthlessly killed; he treated her - and every other civilian innocent he met, for that matter - with nothing less than respect and softness. And now he stood next to her, ready to place himself between her and any threat, regardless if it was a Nazi soldier or a rash Wakandan princess trying to push her to the brink.
"You don't have to do this," he murmured to her, tilting his head toward her while he kept the full force of his glare on Shuri. "You can walk away right now."
But Sadie couldn't walk away and Bucky knew that just as well as she did. He started when she touched his side. Bucky might not have even realized he'd done it, an automatic response to her silent call to stand down. Under her hand, he relaxed and looked at her.
"It's okay," she promised in a low voice.
Sadie slipped into a different part of herself without even realizing it. The heightened emotions and the tension faded away as she gestured for Shuri to come to her, still holding out her hand. Blood oozed from the gash and dripped onto the floor in two small puddles that she had to side step to avoid.
Nurse Sadie emerged from the cobwebs in her mind and before she knew it, she was directing Shuri to sit down and giving orders to Bucky. "Find some towels and a bowl and fill it with steaming hot water. She's bleeding so much I can't see a damn thing."
Miraculously, Shuri did as she was asked and sank down at the table. Rather than appear even a little mollified for her outlandish behavior, she watched Bucky retreat to do Sadie's bidding.
"Wow," she dragged the word out. "Talk about overprotective. I thought he was going to come at me."
"Don't start that."
"Why not? This whole thing between you two is just so weird. It's like you're in love but you're not and sometimes when he looks at you it's like…I've never seen anyone look at you like he does."
Sadie frowned. She took Shuri's hand in hers and gently pried her fingers open to try and get a better look at the gash. Talking about her private life like it was everyday conversation about the weather bothered her. As a rule, she kept those details to herself. What happened with Bucky in the past and present was her business and having anyone, it didn't matter who, try and wedge themselves into the matter chafed at her already tender heart.
"It's nothing," she replied gently, unable to look anywhere but at Shuri's hand. Sadie was perfectly aware of how Bucky looked at her and, more importantly, of how he didn't look at her.
"It's not nothing. I swear sometimes he's trying to stop himself from putting you on that table and-"
The final tenuous strings holding her temper together snapped. She felt her anger ripple through her in a seismic wave, compounded by Shuri's incredible foolishness only moments earlier. Without a second's hesitation, she allowed her response to fly off the sharpened edge of her tongue.
"Stop."
"Sadie?"
"You know that I am grateful to you for everything you've done and I'm certain Bucky is too but there are lines. This situation is hard enough as it is for both of us. So please, you can poke and prod me to your heart's content and run as many tests and take as many samples as you please but don't get involved in this." Perhaps she was so surprised by Sadie's outburst or maybe something in her speech actually reached Shuri but she nodded. Sadie's temper, coming as quickly as it started, faded out and she gave her a small smile. "And don't do this again." She gave Shuri's hand a little shake. "We'll figure out how to test my powers without resorting to this."
By the grace of some god, Bucky reappeared bearing the requested items. Sadie dipped one of the towels in the steaming water.
"Alright, Shuri, this isn't going to feel good but well-"
"I did it to myself," she filled in the blank.
Sadie carefully dabbed the blood away, revealing the length of the cut that went deeper than Sadie initially thought. Normally she would need an entire battery of items in order to suture the wound but that wasn't the point of this exercise. Instead of thinking about Shuri staring at her expectantly or Bucky watching, hovering on the edge between anxiety and anger, Sadie tried to remember the way it felt to stay totally focused in the field hospital in the middle of a rush of wounded. The sounds that might have otherwise distracted her faded into fuzzy noise, like the whoosh of blood in her ears and the sound of her beating heart. She allowed her clinical eyes to observe the gash, estimating the length and trying to get a sense of the depth as she dabbed the blood away. The tips of Shuri's fingers twitched, likely from the sting of the hot water and the towel touching the exposed nerves.
In a normal situation, she would inject anesthetic into a few key points around the wound site and then begin at one corner, making a row of neat stitches all the way down. A good suture would have the edges of the wound puckering slightly, allowing her skin plenty of room to fuse back together. Sadie imagined the wound beginning to seal itself, from the deepest point and the furthest edges upward and inward. Flickers of green colored her vision and she saw beyond the surface, through Shuri's hand, her mouth parting in awe.
"I can see it," she breathed.
"See what?" Bucky enquired, voice tight.
"All of it," she whispered.
Shuri's hand lit up in a thousand shades of green. She could see the veins running her wrist to branch out over the back of her hand before splitting off into a thousand capillaries, carrying blood to feed her muscles, her tendons, and the bones of her fingers. Sadie could see the tiniest hairline fracture in her pinky, long healed.
"When did you break your finger?"
"I-" for the first time since meeting her, Shuri sounded genuinely stumped. "How did you know?"
"I can see it," Sadie murmured and traced the edge of her fingernail along the line. "And I can see-oh wow-"
There, in the center of Shuri's hand was a long line of rust, sinking deep into her tissue. Sadie tried to focus in on the wound and swore she could see the damaged nerve endings, the severed vessels and muscle tissue. Without thinking much about it, she raised her hand to hover above Shuri's palm. Just like a suture but infinitely faster, she could encourage the wound to seal itself. Green light swirled and undulated around her, teeming up from an unknown place in her chest and racing down her arm to her hand where it seemed to leap off her skin, filling the narrow band of space separating Sadie from Shuri. They connected and Sadie felt the rush. She heard the steady beat of Shuri's heart, felt the movement of blood throughout her body and could feel the throbbing, stinging ache of the wound. Slowly, fiber-by-fiber, Sadie encouraged the wound to seal itself. Muscles pulled back together, vessels sewed themselves back up and the nerves reformed as though nothing happened.
Sadie had no idea how long it took or whether Shuri felt anything as the wound drew itself shut, leaving nothing but a thick smear of blood across her palm. Blackness crept in, chasing away the last of the green light as it concentrated and then diminished into nothing. Sadie felt woozy, like she'd stood up too fast on an empty stomach. White spots colored her vision and she started to sway. She felt the moment she'd tapped herself dry but could do nothing to prevent it. Tripping over that delicate line, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fainted.
Only Bucky's quick reflexes saved her from hitting the floor, his arm winding tight around her as she slumped sideways out of her chair and into his grasp. He pulled her in close, allowing her heavy head to fall onto his shoulder. Shuri was too stunned to really register Sadie's misfortune but Bucky felt her dead weight on him in more way than one.
"Is this what you had in mind?"
"Well, not exactly," Shuri mused, a frown tugging at her lips as she reached for Sadie's wrist to take her pulse. "But she's alive and now at least we know one really important detail."
"Yeah?" Bucky groused, shifting his body as best he could to sit on the floor with Sadie resting against him. It was difficult with one arm and even more difficult considering she was about as limp as a giant cooked noodle. "What the hell is that?"
Shuri wiped the remaining blood off her hand and held it up, fingers spread wide to reveal her palm. There was no gash, there wasn't even a faint line where the gash should have been. Her palm was perfectly healed to the point that Bucky couldn't even pick out the place where she'd cut herself, as though she'd never done it at all. Her mouth spread into a beaming, 'I-knew-it' sort of smile that Bucky could learn to really loathe.
"She can do it. She can heal other people."
Bucky craned his neck to look down at Sadie's unconscious form. If he wasn't missing his left arm, he would have brushed the curls away from her face and taken the care to scoop her up so he could carry her somewhere safe to lay her down. As it was he was stranded, holding her up until someone could come and help him. He felt her soft breath on his neck and tried his hardest not to think about all the times he'd held her this close before, savoring the easy way her small body fit against his. One particular memory broke through anyway, mingling his confusion with the sheer relief of pulling an exhausted, bedraggled and half-unconscious Sadie from a bombed out basement in Belgium. The urge to protect her was as strong now as it was then and Bucky allowed himself the liberty of drawing her just a little closer against him, painfully aware that Shuri's eagle eyes caught his every single movement.
"Maybe, but at what cost?"
X X X
Only after a doctor gave Sadie an all clear did two of Shuri's attendants escort her and Bucky back to the palace. She slumbered peacefully and Bucky oversaw the two men carry her into her bedroom, where Bucky took care to pull the covers back on her neatly made bed. Bucky waited until they were gone before he pulled the blankets over her and swept the curls off her forehead. She'd fallen into a sleep so deep that nothing could rouse her which made Bucky nervous in a way he couldn't quantify. Half of him wanted to pull up a chair and camp out at her bedside until she woke but he didn't know what she would think if she woke up to find him still there. What if she didn't remember what happened when she woke up only to find him just sitting next to her bed, watching her sleep and waiting?
Bucky didn't even want to imagine her response.
Wrestling down his concern, he started to leave but paused at the desk near her doorway. There, laying next to a thick stack of books was a shining object upon which a sticky note note rested. He recognized Sadie's handwriting almost instantly, a beautiful script that scrawled diagonally across the note. Don't forget to return to Bucky! The corner of his mouth lifted but then fell when he peeled the adhesive part of the note off the steel tag.
The blood in his veins froze, not because of the sight of his dog tags after so long but because he could clearly picture the last time he saw them. Looped around Sadie's thin neck, the tags swung back and forth, a taunt as ragged at her breath when she braced herself on all fours, body twitching. Bucky could see the tags as clear as he saw them now, the ball chain tangled with her silver chain containing the sum of their broken promises. There wouldn't be a wedding or a home or any kind of future worth having. There was nothing but back-breaking agony and the hopelessness he felt straining with all of his might to reach her at her final, desperate attempt to reach him before she collapsed in a heap. Bucky clenched the dog tags so tight he felt one of the corners cut into him.
These tags belonged to him. He knew that they did and he knew she likely felt odd holding onto a piece of property that wasn't hers. Just holding them felt like holding a curse and he had half a mind to tie the tags to a rock, march down to the river and chuck them to a watery grave. But then he felt something else against his palm and he shifted the tags aside to reveal the small circular medal he'd forgotten all about until now.
"Something small, for the road ahead."
Against all reason, Bucky smiled. He'd carried her Saint Christopher's medal through the darkest parts of the war, through Azzano and Arnim Zola's brutal experiments. Bucky used to rub the medal with his thumb on long nights stuck in a foxhole or when he lay in bed in London on the rare nights she was on mission and he wasn't. Sure enough, when he turned the medal over he could see the spot on the back, worn shiny from his comforting ritual. That little medal was a talisman of sorts, a little piece of Sadie that stayed with him everywhere he went, up the beachhead at Normandy, dropping behind enemy lines in Russia and through every miserable march and combat jump. He almost never took his dog tags off and in fact, on the rare occasion that he did it was usually Sadie removing them, replacing the safety of the medal with the sanctity of her touch.
Bucky looked back to Sadie, a veritable sleeping beauty. He rubbed the back of the medal once more, and the simple motion brought him some measure of comfort. Maybe his dog tags were a testament to all of the awfulness but the Saint Christopher's medal was surely a testament to all of the goodness - and there had been so much goodness. Like the hero of a fairy tale, he wished he could revive her with a single kiss and breathe life into their love once more. He wished with all of his might that this was going to be that simple. But just like the medal was inextricably tied to his dog tags, Bucky couldn't simply split Sadie from all of the awfulness. Whether he liked it or not, she was trapped in the mire with him.
Her awe-inspiring display of power in Shuri's lab was just another reminder. For a half-second even Bucky found himself mesmerized, watching the green light shift and twist around Sadie's fingers in formless, elegant patterns before reaching down and sinking into Shuri's wound. When he'd been able to tear his eyes away from the spectacle, he looked to Sadie's face and got an even bigger shock. Her eyes weren't her usual steely grey but rather a vivid shade of emerald green, glowing with the same intensity as the power she wielded. He'd only ever seen one other person exhibit anything even remotely similar and that was Wanda.
But Bucky knew from brief conversations with Steve that Wanda got her powers from something called the Mind Stone.
Bucky was perhaps the only person on the planet who knew for a fact that Sadie got hers from a potent combination of one of Arnim Zola's experimental serums and the Tesseract.
His whole body tensed. Bucky also knew the reason she had her powers was owing to a spectacular failure on his part. He'd failed to keep his promise to come back to her, failed to put a bullet between Zola's eyes, and most of all he'd failed to protect her. Sadie might have argued with him on each point but in Bucky's mind there was no other interpretation. She slept on, blissfully unaware that he could barely look at her now, disgusted by own shortcomings. Bucky took his dog tags and left, shutting her door silently behind him.
X X X
Bucky wasn't sure what to expect from Sadie but as the afternoon dragged into the evening, it became clear that she wasn't going to wake up any time soon. He checked on her once to ensure she was still soundly sleeping before he sought the privacy of his own room. When he laid down and stared up at the ceiling he wondered how he could start and end his day lying on the very same bed, staring at the very same ceiling, and thinking of the very same woman under such drastically different contexts. Gone were the wonderful, if inappropriate, thoughts of having Sadie wrapped around him, replaced by the crushing guilt of knowing that nothing he could do would ever be enough to earn that love again.
He flipped his dog tags between his fingers, repeating the motion on loop while he let himself wallow. Bucky was particularly good at wallowing; he'd done plenty of it in his two years living as a ghost in the varying cities of Europe. A different, still uninvited guest showed up to his pity party in the form of regret. The list of things Bucky regretted could probably make it all the way to the moon and back but surely Sadie was item number one. No matter how many times he told himself that this was all HYDRA's doing, that didn't lessen the burden on his heart. Bucky couldn't rationalize his way out of believing that all of this was his fault and he often caught himself regretting every little thing that led her unwittingly down this path after him, only to wind up as another member of the unwanted superpowers club.
Rubbing his thumb over the Saint Christopher's medal, he also heard the familiar pushback from another voice in his head. Sometimes he thought he had split personalities, different versions of himself cleaved apart by HYDRA's various memory brainwashing techniques. The voice that shouted down his worst demons was almost certainly the old him, the Bucky that still possessed self-confidence and hope for the future. He wouldn't trade Sadie for anything in the world and Bucky was grateful for that voice of reason, reminding him that he'd been extraordinarily lucky to have her love for the short time he'd had it. Nothing, not even HYDRA could take that away from him.
Still, he warred with himself for what felt like an age until he eventually drifted off. His fitful sleep was punctuated by hazy dreams. The deeper he fell into his sleep, the stranger and more horrifying his dreams became. Bucky's body stiffened and twitched, unconscious reactions to the horror show put on display by his traitorous brain. Eventually, as he often did, he caught glimpses of that dank laboratory between flashes of blinding blue light. Bucky could see a silhouette and as his vision cleared, he recoiled. Sadie lay on an exam table across the laboratory and separated by thick glass. But he could see her clear as day, writhing in agony as the serum deconstructed her, re-writing her very DNA. She was always out of reach, no matter hard he tried or fought. He threw a hand out as though he could phase through the glass to pull her out of this hell and abscond her away to literally anywhere else. Bucky blinked and his stomach rolled as another bright blue flash of light preceded a scream he would never forget.
Bucky woke with a violent jerk, sending his body lurching forward out of bed. He staggered across his bedroom toward the open bathroom door. Barely catching himself on the doorframe, he swung inward and fell to his knees in front of the toilet just as his dinner came up. Without his left arm, he was unbalanced and had to grasp the top of the toilet with a white knuckled hold to keep himself upright as he retched, mind still caught up in a tornado of bad images, each one circling wildly through his mind like a horror movie the likes of which the most twisted director couldn't envision. His vision blurred and he continued to vomit until his stomach was empty and he was dry heaving, working up to spitting out the nasty taste in his mouth. He grappled for the flush and then fell sideways into the glass wall of his shower.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, dropping his head back while he tried to regain his bearings.
Bucky was no stranger to violent night terrors but he hadn't been sick in a long time, almost six months by his last count. He reached overhead for his towel hanging on the rack next to the shower and mopped away the cold sweat beading up at his forehead and pouring down his temples. His hand shook while he continued to wipe the sweat off his neck and chest. Weakness had his nerves twitching uncomfortably, still on high alert from the nightmare and knowing that the very subject of his abject horror slept down the hall from him.
"She's okay," he told himself firmly, using the force of his conviction to keep his body rooted. He didn't want to make matters worse by bursting into her room just to make sure she was still there. They were both in Wakanda. They were both safe.
Still, the fervent ache pulsed in his chest, a vestige of the brief time between falling into HYDRA's hold and being broken into the Winter Soldier. Bucky knew it defied his confused feelings but he wished he could keep Sadie tight in his embrace all the same. His body seemed to know better than his mind that that was where he belonged, in the circle of her arms where he could protect her and draw comfort from her at the same time. What wouldn't he give to conquer his stunted emotions and his fear to actually act on those impulses? What would it mean to have the freedom to crawl into her bed and wind himself around her, inextricably tying his heart to hers?
Almost as soon as the urge rose up, he fought it back down. It wasn't right. Bucky didn't know his own mind and heart; dragging Sadie into the confused web wasn't just unfair, it was downright cruel. She carried so much hope in her heart that he might find a path back to her and doing anything that might encourage those hopes was wrong to so many degrees. Bucky knew that part of him wanted the same things she did but until he reconciled what part of him that was, keeping his distance was best.
He smacked his lips to combat the dryness in his mouth along with the acrid taste. At least he could control a few things. With a groan, he managed to get back to his feet and shuffled to the sink so he could brush his teeth. While he set to work cleaning the taste from his mouth, Bucky examined his reflection in the mirror. A haggard light clung to his eyes that cast shadows beneath them, taking on a purplish hue that reminded him more of bruises than anything else. Even though he was eating steady meals for the first time in God only knew how long, he thought his cheeks looked hollower than usual and his hair was in desperate need of a good wash. He combed the bedraggled strands out to the best of his ability before leaving his reflection behind, far too displeased with what he saw to linger.
Automatic lights modulated themselves to a gentle glow when he padded into the common area. Bucky moved about the kitchen, collecting a glass and filling it with cold water. He drained half of it on the walk to the sofa where he sank down in the middle, grateful to have quality furniture as opposed to the tiny loveseat in his apartment in Bucharest that had a few shot springs and threadbare cushions. Settling deeper into the sofa, he stretched his legs and leaned back. If he was going to be awake for the rest of the night, at least he'd be comfortable.
Bucky considered messing around with the television to watch a movie from Shuri's list but stopped himself when he heard another door in the hall open.
"Bucky?"
Sadie stood at the edge of her side of the hallway, bare arms crossed over her chest. She'd traded her blue dress for a pair of loose pants and a tank top. Pushing her braid over her shoulder, she padded barefoot into the living area, looking more than a little lost. She was pale and seemed just a touch unsteady but she still managed to drum up concern for him, waving him down when he started to get up.
"It's almost two in the morning, what are you doing up?"
Bucky scrubbed his face. That annoying rational voice in his head told him now was the perfect time to admit the subject of his nightmare and tell her the truth. But he couldn't. She'd been through enough today without having to face that. "Couldn't sleep."
"Nightmare?" She surmised in a way that suggested she knew all too well what that was like.
Of course Sadie knew what that was like. Maybe she didn't have decades as the Winter Soldier haunting her but she had survived a world war on three separate continents. She'd seen enough horrors of her own.
"I'm okay," he promised. He didn't really mean it and she didn't believe him but she mercifully let the moment pass without pressing him. She drew further into the room and came around to sink onto the sofa, body turned to face him. "How are you feeling?"
She pursed her lips together, fighting a scowl. "Tired and confused. Did I pass out? What about Shuri's hand?"
"You fainted right after you finished healing it. She's fine, you'd never know she was such a dumbass earlier."
This time when Sadie smiled, Bucky didn't feel any of his previous arousal. Sadness touched her eyes, banishing any humor. "I still can't believe she did that. I almost wish it hadn't worked because now I'm worried she's going to keep finding more outlandish ways to test me."
"Over my dead body."
The promise popped out of his mouth before he could even stop himself. It was a knee-jerk reaction, some latent impulse to place himself between Sadie and any threat, real or perceived. He'd done it at pubs and dance halls to save her the advances of amorous GIs and he'd done it in the field as best as he could. A storm brewed in her eyes and she started to speak but thought better of it. Bucky understood then that he'd taken a step too far.
"What I meant was-" he sighed and ran his hand over his hair. "I just really hate that you have to do it at all."
"I know. And I don't want whatever these powers are but it looks like I'm stuck with them so I might as well try to find the best use for them."
Bucky knew how that went all too well. He started to tell her but his mind derailed when she blew out a soft sigh and leaned forward, bracing her elbow on her knees. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and brushed his thumb over her shoulder, bumping over the raised scars that criss-crossed her skin, shockingly white against her already pale skin. Sadie immediately stiffened beneath his touch and she turned to look back, realizing at once what he'd noticed for the first time.
"Oh, those," she reached over her shoulder and the tips of her fingers brushed past his. "I got those in Japan. Souvenirs from a couple of poorly aimed bombs."
Bucky almost choked at her crass choice of words. He would hardly call shrapnel scars souvenirs any more than he'd call his metal arm a souvenir from HYDRA. That was Sadie though; she could make a dark joke out of just about anything and normally he appreciated it but right now he just couldn't. Those scars might be a minor cosmetic annoyance for Sadie but they meant so much more to him. As he rubbed his thumb over the torn and healed tissue, all he could think was that he'd failed her long before she ever wound up crumpled on the floor in Arnim Zola's lab.
"I didn't know-" he murmured and withdrew his touch.
"Of course you didn't," she replied earnest and kind. "How could you have?"
Bucky didn't want to answer her and instead he responded with a question of his own. "Why did you go to Japan?"
She drew one of her knees up, wrapping her arms about it and resting her chin atop it. Sadie didn't want to answer him any more than he'd wanted to answer her but the sad smile accompanied with the hollow, dead light in her eyes was answer enough. Japan was an escape from London and her grief. Rather than stay and face the fallout of his death, Sadie had chosen to walk away for her own self-preservation.
"It's been a really long day. I guess using up all that power has left me famished and I don't think I'm going to sleep any time soon. So," she took in a deep breath and unfurled herself, swaying slightly as she got up. "I'm going to find something to eat. If you're going to be up for a while maybe you can find something to watch? I hear there are a lot of good movies I've missed out on."
Bucky almost deflated in relief. He wasn't sure he could withstand yet another brutal conversation. The chance to take some of the pressure off and just exist in the same space was a welcome change. Nodding, he started to ask her if she would mind refilling his water glass but she was one step ahead of him, taking it with her to the kitchen. Ten minutes later she was curled up in the corner of the sofa with a plate of leftovers and Bucky had his water, the pair of them watching the opening credits to Star Wars, which he'd watched for the first time in Polish on a grainy TV for the brief time he was in Krakow.
"It's good," he promised. "Weird, but good."
Sadie pressed the tines of her fork into her bottom lip. "I'll take your word for it."
As the movie wore on, they both moved and shifted. Despite her claims she wouldn't sleep, Sadie slowly expanded along the sofa until she took up one half while Bucky inhabited the opposite corner. He reveled in their comfortable silence but couldn't dislodge other worries and concerns. Bucky wasn't sure what bothered him more about her trajectory, the fact that she was saddled with these unknown, potentially dangerous powers, the fact that she was now determined to learn how to control them, or the fact that while all of this was going on she was determined to help Nakia with Wakanda's outreach, travel to Vienna on state business, and even start chasing a new career of her own. And yet, she was just like Steve, a magnet for trouble and there was no telling what kind of threats would follow her around once she was out in the open. Bucky thought of the scars on her shoulder and the scars he knew she bore from her time with HYDRA and felt his already wavering resolve harden.
Maybe he couldn't do anything about the past but he could take control of his future. Sadie didn't like being handled but she also had no idea of the outside world waiting for her. Bucky would be damned if someone or anything else was going to leave yet another scar on her body.
As soon as the morning came, Bucky sought Shuri out, distracting her from her morning meditation in her lab. She cracked an eye open to observe him but the second she read the resigned, drawn expression on his face her lips spread into a broad grin.
"Alright, you win." Bucky relented, giving her exactly what she'd wanted. "Show me what you've got."
A/N: So, there's a lot to unpack here but the most important part is our lovebirds are finally making some real strides and will continue to do so over the next few chapters (whether all of those strides are good or bad remains to be seen LOL). Next chapter picks up with Bucky's new arm because y'all didn't think I could write a whole fic on him being a one-armed goat herder, did you? I didn't think so.
Loved it? Liked it? Think that Shuri – to quote my beta – is metal AF? I'd love to know any and all thoughts! Much love – Kappa.