Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!
Recommended Listening: It Never Rains, but What it Pours by Judy Garland; Under Pressure by Queen; It's Coming Down by Cake
Chapter 35: Two Wrong Turns Don't Make A Right
Bucky was sitting out in the pasture, the massive grasslands seemed to stretch on forever, and had grass so green it looked nearly blue in the bright sun. It had been over a week and a half since Magdalene Ramirez had arrived in Wakanda, almost a week since she'd given him the journals, and three days since he'd seen her at Jelani's during the feed delivery.
He'd re-read the journals at least a dozen times. He hadn't exactly been sleeping well and had been having more migraines. He wasn't sure if there was any connection between Ramirez and the uptick in headaches, but he did know that he was still missing something key that would help him answer a number of questions. The journal, the letter, the photographs, and even Ramirez herself were all telling him different things.
Bucky sighed, shaking his head, his eyes trained on his small herd of goats a dozen or so yards away. He wished Steve were here. Things might be easier if Steve was around to mediate, or not even mediate, just help translate what was going on so that he could understand how the hell he was supposed to respond. Ramirez, for her part, had been distracted, cold, and short with her interactions during the feed delivery. She'd also looked like she'd just been crying. Steve would've had more luck talking to her than he'd had recently. Though how effective Steve would've been in getting Bucky the answers he was looking for remained to be seen. This was the guy who's first reaction to Ramirez asking to speak with Bucky had been, "I'll handle it."
He'd wanted to ask about the journals, he wanted to say thank you, he wanted to apologize for ...well everything, but it hadn't seemed like the appropriate time or place. She hadn't seemed like she wanted to talk to him anyway, and she didn't owe him her time or energy, particularly after everything that she'd been through because of him. Anyway, Jelani had been around, and Bucky certainly didn't want to drag out his business with Ramirez in front of the Wakandans, if at all possible. If not out of respect for his hosts, then out of respect for Ramirez.
Despite himself, Bucky did want to talk to her. He wanted to ask about the photographs she'd left in the pages of the journals, each tucked into the corresponding entry. The snapshot from Ramirez's birthday party had been of particular interest, the one of Ramirez and his sister. Had she meant to leave that in the journal, or had it been an oversight on her part? What did she know about his relationship with Steve or Romanoff for that matter? What did she think of what Hydra had done to him? What about what he had done?
His questions were endless, but that didn't mean she owed him an explanation.
It had taken him everything he had to not to walk over to the horse village in the middle of the night after he'd read through the journals a second time and found he had even more questions than after the first read-through. After all, Ramirez had said in her letter she was willing and able to answer any questions he might have. But just because she'd said she was willing, didn't mean that she wanted to, it didn't mean that he should ask. Besides, when would he have the chance to talk to her outside of when she was working or around Jelani, Sisay, or any of the other Wakandans? Would there ever be an appropriate time to talk about his sister, about his past, about their shared history? He didn't know.
Bucky grimaced, looking down at his journal, and tapped his pen against the blank page. He really should try to write it out in the journal. It might help him think through all of this mess before he inflicted it upon Ramirez. He'd been writing more since Ramirez arrived, mostly trying to piece together what he'd lost in the journals that had been confiscated in Berlin from what she had written in her own. She'd been very thorough, although admittedly she hadn't found out everything, or if she had, she'd kept it to herself and not recorded it in the pages she'd given him.
He stopped, pausing at the sound of unfamiliar footfalls. His mind raced as he slowly honed in on the sound, his eyes squeezed shut. It wasn't the kids. There wasn't more than one pair. It wasn't the King and the Dora, the King rarely ventured out this far, and never without a guard of some kind. Nor was it the princess. She had a sort of spring, skip to her step, and rarely wore hard-soled shoes, and it definitely wasn't Steve. Yet Bucky knew he had heard that particular gait before.
Looking up and opening his eyes, Bucky found Ramirez cutting across the field. She was about halfway between the two tree lines that framed the pasture when she stopped, turned around, and took a few steps. Then, she stopped again, shook her head, muttered something under her breath before she turned back around, marching back the way she'd come.
She's lost. He realized. Shit. How the hell was he going to announce his presence without causing a scene? He couldn't exactly just let her wander around the Wakandan countryside lost. Closing his journal and stowing it and the pen in his satchel, he rose to his feet. "You Lost?" He called, doing his best to project his voice without sounding like he was shouting.
Ramirez froze, before turning around to face him. "Hi." She said shortly.
"You lost?" He repeated as he walked toward her.
"I think I got a little turned around. Which way to Omondi's? Jelani sent me for the tools he let him borrow." Ramirez replied, her expression tense, her whole body coiled as if ready for an oncoming attack.
She was headed toward his village? She'd been walking in the opposite direction and was now over two miles away from where she needed to be. "Do you have your Kimoyo bracelet on you? I could mark a waypoint for you?" Bucky asked hesitantly.
"I don't."
Well, that made things more complicated. He'd either have to explain it to her and hope she got it right or he'd have to show her the way himself. Which, based on her body language wasn't something she'd be interested in doing. "You're about two miles away from where you need to be if you take the shortest path." He explained, "But the best-marked path is about three miles."
Ramirez exhaled sharply, looking down at the ground, muttering a few key curse words to herself. "So I am really lost then, aren't I?" She sighed, looking back up at him and addressing him directly.
"I can show you the way. I needed to head back that way soon anyway." He paused as the rumble of thunder interrupted him. "If there's a thunderstorm coming, you'd be better off coming with me anyway."
Something crossed her face, Bucky wasn't sure if it was anger or resignation, but it was only a momentary lapse in control that she had. Her features resumed their cool neutral expression before he could quite pinpoint what he was seeing, or rather what he wasn't seeing. "I don't want to bother you."
"We're going in the same direction." Bucky replied, "Although I do have goats with me, it might take a little bit longer."
There was a brief paused as she debated with herself before she answered evenly, "If you're already headed that direction, I can follow you."
There hadn't even been an uptick in her tone, no use of sarcasm, no angry drawl. Her tone was smooth, even, and controlled, controlled, of course, being the operative word. His eyes flickered only a moment to her hands, which were down by her side, and balled into fists. Ramirez was coiled, like a snake in the grass, like she'd been when confronting Roberts. Was she expecting a fight from him? No. Controlled. She was controlling her expression, her tone, even her body. Was she going to fight him? She was accepting his help. So that it couldn't be it, could it? Bucky didn't know, and as thunder continued rumbling overhead, he knew he needed to get the goats back to their hutch before the storm arrived. He didn't have time to guess what Ramirez was thinking at the moment.
"Follow me, the storm is moving fast, and we'll need to be out of the jungle before it arrives." He instructed firmly, picking up the stick he'd been using to prod the goats, though they generally had a mind of their own.
Ramirez nodded, following behind him in silence.
They walked through the field, collecting his small herd of six goats before they started down the goat path that would lead them the fastest back to the village. Ramirez didn't say a word as they walked, single file down the trail. The goats walked in front, and he followed, pushing them along. Behind him, Ramirez brought up the rear. She was keeping a good pace, walking five to ten yards behind him. Her breathing was even, her gait consistent. She didn't say a word.
Now would be the perfect time to talk, middle of the woods, no Wakandans around, you're not going to get another chance like this.
Bucky wasn't stupid. Something was going on, and he got the distinct feeling that bringing anything up related to their history wouldn't end well, or at the very least, wasn't going to go the way that he would've wanted. Yet, at the same time, there was something expectant hanging in the air, as if Ramirez was waiting for him to say something. Waiting for him to ask. Waiting for some kind of misstep. Waiting for a reason to unleash the pent up fury behind her expression upon him.
He'd deserve it. There was no doubt about it, but the value of bringing down such wrath upon himself right now in the middle of the jungle seemed minimal. So although Bucky might deserve it, he didn't want to give her a reason to employ it, at least until they made it back to the village.
The thunder grew louder overhead, the crackle of lighting making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. He picked up the pace, and wordlessly Ramirez matched it. Then the rain came, first as a light mist, before it started pouring down around them in thick heavy droplets, quickly soaking through his clothes and hair.
"You still with me back there?" He asked, without glancing over his shoulder at her, his focus primarily on his goat, and making sure they stayed together.
"Fine. Just great." She drawled, though her voice was barely audible over the sound of the downpour.
"Watch your step, the path is steep up ahead, and it's going to be slick with the rain," Bucky warned.
The goats ahead of him were light and nimble, and they moved easily, and quickly, despite the terrain and weather. Humans, on the other hand, were not quite as adept at navigating in the same conditions. The last thing either of them needed was to slip and fall and bust-
This thought was interrupted by a short scream and ample swearing. Stopping, he turned to see Ramirez on the ground, lying flat on her back
"You alright?" He asked.
"Damn it," She muttered, sitting up, rubbing the back of her head.
"You alright?" Bucky repeated over the sound of thunder.
"I'm fine," She bit out flatly, as she did an inventory of her physical state.
Bucky paused, doing an evaluation of his own. She didn't look to be seriously hurt. Upon initial scan, he didn't see any broken bones or blood, although if she did have something more severe than just a few scrapes and bruises, they'd be in a lot of trouble.
There was another low rumble of thunder, followed by lightning that flashed so bright it illuminated the entire jungle. They were getting ready to have several problems in a moment if they delayed any longer. "Can you walk?"
She looked up at him, her expression furrowed. "What?"
"Can you walk?' He repeated. "The rain's only going to get worse as the storm rolls through."
"I...I...don't know. Probably?" She grimaced. "I think. I think I twisted my ankle." She rose shakily to her feet, testing her ankle, she winced. Pausing, Ramirez looked up and met his gaze. "You don't have to wait. I'll be right behind you." She said firmly, putting her foot down solidly.
It was convincing, and Bucky almost would have bought it, if not for the fact that her whole body shook, and her face was sheet white as she took a couple faltering steps forward for good measure.
"Come on." She said, limping down the path. "As you said, this is only going to get worse. I'm fine."
"You shouldn't be walking on that ankle."
"Well, I don't exactly see any other choice, presently, Barnes." She replied through gritted teeth, barely forcing back a whimper as she applied more pressure than her ankle or pain tolerance could take.
He would've admired her stubbornness had he not been in the middle of an African jungle, in the rain, with six goats, one arm, and one very angry, frustrated woman. The ankle was going to slow them down, the Goats were going to get spooked the longer they stayed out here, and he couldn't very well abandon either party. He'd have one hell of a time explaining how and why they'd all been swept away in a thunderstorm. "Let me carry you."
Ramirez laughed a harsh, choked laugh. "Jeezus Christ. This is really happening, isn't it?" She shook her head before hobbling a few more feet. Stopping, she sighed, lifting her face to the canopy above, mouthing something under her breath before she looked back at him. "Fine." She said tersely, surveying him with a critical expression. "As you're down an arm, you're going to have to fireman carry my sorry ass, aren't you?"
Bucky had to hide his surprise. He hadn't had to convince her. He hadn't had to ask more than once or wait for her to fall again so he could scoop her up and throw her over his shoulder while she thrashed. All things being equal, this was going a lot better than he'd imagined it might have otherwise. "Sorry."
"We'll move faster that way. Can't exactly see me using you as a crutch." She sighed, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, only smearing dirt and vegetation across her forehead. "Let's get this over with, shall we, Mr. Barnes?"
They talked through their plan of approach, and while they maneuvered awkwardly, Ramirez was deceivingly light and surprisingly cooperative. After a brief adjustment on the part of both parties, he was walking with her over his shoulders.
Trudging along in silence, watching his step, and keeping a watchful eye on the goats, Bucky was aware of the seething energy that was coming off Ramirez. She was trembling, from the cold rain that poured down around them, but there was palpable, visceral anger that filled the silence between them.
Should I ask if something's wrong?
No. That never worked well with dames. Not that Ramirez was a dame, but she certainly was angry, and asking her directly might not be the best way to defuse the situation at present.
If I don't ask, then how the hell am I going to figure out what's wrong? The best course of action for the moment would be to focus on the path and get them back to his hut safely. Once he got her back on her own two feet, then they could have that discussion. Maybe.
"You still with me, Ramirez?" He asked.
"Mhh, Hmm." She mumbled. Nodding, she made no other motion.
"We're almost to my place. I can get the village healer to take a look at it when the rain lets up." Bucky continued feeling almost compelled to say something to the woman lying across his shoulders.
Ramirez didn't respond, holding perfectly still as he traversed the narrow, steep, and rocky path. He could hear her breathing, practically feel her heart pounding, her body tense, her hands clenched around a wad of his scarf. She was shaking. Bucky couldn't help but think about how close they were and couldn't help but be reminded of the last time they'd been in close proximity together. The small little outbuilding when she'd patched him up. He'd been afraid, terrified if he was honest, and had been moments away from losing all self-control and making a run for it. He could've hurt her. He could've killed her, even unintentionally.
Is she frightened of me?
Certainly anger had crossed his mind, she had plenty of reason to be angry, but fear? That, for whatever reason, hadn't occurred to him. She hadn't been frightened of him that day in the outbuilding, though she'd certainly had plenty of reason to be. A lot had happened since then. She knew more now about him than she had then. She didn't seem frightened, but that could be for any number of reasons.
"This is okay, right?" He asked softly.
Ramirez shifted slightly, her breathing changed. "It could be worse," she chuckled humorlessly.
"Am I hurting you?" That's what she'd asked him, every step of the way.
"No." She shook her head. There was a pause, and for a brief moment Bucky was sure she was going to follow it up with something else, but the moment passed, and nothing else came.
Bucky said nothing. There was nothing more to be said.
When they arrived at his hut, he eased her down onto her feet, under the small awning. "I'm going to pen the goats in their hutch. You can head inside and try and get dry." He instructed
Without waiting for a response, he charged to the goat hutch, where all six of them had gathered of their own accord and were waiting for him to shut the door after them. "You're smart." He commented, glancing over his shoulder at Ramirez, who was leaning against the hut, trying to remove her boots. "Smarter than I am." He added.
Latching and securing the gate, he crossed the yard to where Ramirez was still struggling."It'll be easier when you're sitting," He motioned with his head to the interior, she shot him a cold look. "You can wait out in the storm if you like, but it'll warmer and dryer inside," Bucky said, taking a step back.
"I was trying to get my boots off, so I don't track mud into your living space." Ramirez bit out flatly.
"Wouldn't worry about it. It'll be easier once you're sitting down and somewhere with better light." He replied.
She surveyed him, her expression perfectly and completely even. "Why are you doing this, Barnes?"
"What?"
Ramirez snorted, shaking her head. "The man carries me down a goddamn mountain in the rain, and he asks what?" She muttered, rolling her eyes.
"I would've had a hard time explaining to Wilson, Rogers, and the Wakandans why I'd left you on the mountain during a thunderstorm."
"I'd imagine that would be tricky." Her voice practically dripped with sarcasm.
Which meant she still wasn't convinced. Bucky didn't know how to respond. "You helped me out of a tight spot once." Then I left you for dead. He couldn't help but add mentally. "I do owe you one."
"Right. That." The bitterness and anger in her voice were palpable. "I did say you don't owe me anything."
"You're wrong."
"Really now?" Ramirez practically laughed.
"You took in a sick, starving, frightened man, and you lost everything. That warrants at the very least an apology and a bit of gratitude on my part."
She dropped her head down, still trying to pry off her boots, muttering something under her breath.
Thunder rumbled, and the rain poured down even harder, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to head inside, dry off and put on a pot of coffee, but he knew that if he didn't say what he needed to be said, now, there wouldn't be another opportunity.
"I am sorry, and I am grateful." He paused, thinking about the letter, about what she'd said. Not just that he didn't owe her anything, but also that she was a receptacle of knowledge and memory and that she could provide an explanation or elaboration upon request.
Did she feel obligated to him? Did she feel like she owed him that? Did she feel like because she'd spent two and a half years collecting information about him that she somehow was obligated to explain herself and her reasoning behind all of it? Did she feel like he didn't owe her an apology for his actions? Just because he'd been brainwashed? Just because she'd been friends with his sister and Steve? He didn't know, but he couldn't let it stand.
"I know there's nothing I can do that's going to change the past or make up for what happened to you because of me. But you don't owe me a goddamn thing, Ramirez. Not your time, energy, or your forgiveness, regardless of who I was to Becca, or who I am to Steve. I've taken up two and a half years of your life. You don't owe me any more of it."
Thunder rumbled, so loud that Bucky could feel it vibrate in his chest. Then there was silence. Had he overstepped? Had he said the wrong thing? He held his breath, waiting for her to respond.
After a moment, Ramirez stopped trying to pry her boot off, her hands pausing in their motion, and Bucky could swear that he saw her exhale, a long, slow, and massive breath as if she'd been holding it, locked up inside of her. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, and her jawline smoothed somewhat.
"Any chance I could get you to help me with these boots, Barnes?" She said weakly, looking up at him. Her expression was still cool and calculated, but the lines that had previously creased her features had softened somewhat. "I think my ankle has swollen, and my hand is having a hell of a time with these clasps."
Bucky nodded, "Let's get inside. I'll get you a towel, and I can work on the boots."
"I still don't want to track mud into your house, Barnes."
"The floor is dirt. Mud isn't a problem, Ramirez."
Ramirez chuckled, this time not-unkindly, and nodded, "Alright, after you then."
"You first." He motioned with his hand.
She rolled her eyes, but nodded, limping into the hut in front of him.
Bucky followed cautiously behind her. "You can sit down anywhere. I'll get a pot of coffee going, and find you something to dry off with." He said, now suddenly aware of how small the living space in the hut was, particularly with another non-Steve person occupying it with him.
He and Steve were used to cramped quarters, but sharing that same space with a less familiar and likely hostile party was a little tricker. Looking up, he met Ramirez's gaze. "It's a little small, isn't it?" She said knowingly.
"Yeah." He nodded.
Ramirez's eyes scanned the hut before she settled down by the entryway. "Not so bad for one person, but two people is a bit much." She commented, as her hands resumed their work on her boots.
"You still want my help with boots?" Bucky asked.
"Well, now that you've mentioned coffee, I think I'd rather you focus your efforts there. These boots will come off eventually." She said, gritting her teeth, her hands working the wet and mud-caked buckles of her boots.
Bucky nodded, and they both set about their tasks in silence. Or near silence, as Ramirez muttered and swore under her breath until the boots tugged off, followed by very wet socks.
"Yup. That's swollen." She cringed, poking gingerly at the inflamed joint.
"As soon as the rain lets up, I'll get the village healer."
"And Jelani's tools." She added.
"Huh?" He looked up at her from the coffee pot, which had just started bubbling.
"That is why I ended up here if you recall."
"Right." He nodded. Stopping, He turned to the little side table and slipped on his Kimoyo bracelet. "Damn. I should wear this thing more." He muttered as no less than fifteen messages appeared. "They're about to send a search party out for you, Ms. Ramirez." He said, addressing her curious gaze.
"Oh. Damn."
"I'll let them know that you're with me, that you're safe, and that you'll be headed back as soon as the rain clears."
"Much appreciated."
Bucky nodded. Sending off the message, and he quietly poured two steaming mugs of coffee, aware that Ramirez was watching him intently. "How do you take it?" He asked.
"Black." She answered. "Can I steal your blanket? I'm freezing."
"Please. I'm sure the coffee will help too." He replied, looking up, saw Ramirez dragging the boarder tribe blanket to her, wrapping it around herself before he handed over the mug of coffee.
She took it in both hands, her fingertips brushing his in the exchange. Looking down, she blew gently on the bitter black liquid before taking a sip. "It's good." She said, looking back up, met his gaze.
"I'm glad."
Ramirez surveyed him. "How are you not freezing? Do you want me to close my eyes so you can change into something not completely soaking wet?" She inquired.
"I run a little warmer than most." He paused. "Which I guess you already knew." He added.
"Yeah." She nodded in agreement, "I guess I did."
There was a long award pause, as Bucky tried to figure out what to say next. His eyes drifted around the small hut, doing his best not to focus on Ramirez, and fell on the journals, stacked neatly on the side table beside her. "You were very thorough." He said.
"What?"
He motioned with his chin to the journals.
"Oh. Right. That." She said. "You've read them?"
The surprise in her voice took him aback. Did she think he hadn't? That he wouldn't? Well, he hadn't exactly given her any indication that he'd read them, had he?
"Multiple times."
"Really?" She said, again, surprise in her voice and on her features.
He nodded again.
"You must have questions."
"As I said, you were very thorough." He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask, a multitude of things, but at the given moment, he didn't want to push his luck with Ramirez. Particularly since it appeared they were finally getting on slightly better terms than they'd been before.
Ramirez nodded, settling further into the folds of the blanket, took another sip of coffee. Something was at work behind her features as if she was trying to puzzle through a particularly tricky problem. "You must think all of this is strange." She commented, motioning to the journals with the top of her head.
Bucky frowned, not entirely sure of her meaning.
"A dead woman helping your best friend track you down, and meticulously recording the whole thing?"
"It's not as strange as you might think, all things considered." He couldn't help but think of everything he'd learned about her when he'd thought she was dead. Though, he wasn't ready to talk about that quite yet.
Ramirez nodded slowly, her eyes bright with curious intrigue. "How long have you known?"
"What?"
"That I wasn't actually dead."
"January."
"How'd you figure it out?" She asked before taking another sip of the coffee.
"My sister's obituary photograph. You were in one of the back rows."
"So I was." She nodded. "I was wondering if someone was going to figure that out." Ramirez shook her head, "So you know that I knew your sister."
"I'd gathered as much from the picture before Steve told me last week."
"She was a wonderful woman."
A pain twisted in Bucky's chest, and he nodded. "Yeah, she certainly seemed like it."
There was a long pause, both of them wrapped up in their thoughts as rain pounded against the roof of the hut.
"You must have some questions for me."
"A few." She replied.
"You can ask if you want. Though I can't promise that I can answer all of them."
Ramirez nodded, "I think that's more than fair." She paused, chewing on the inside of her mouth absently a moment she proceeded, her gaze focused on a point just behind him, and even further away than the human eye could comprehend. "When you were on the run, you saved several women from street harassment, attempted rape, and the like."
"Yeah. I did." He'd almost forgotten about that, and it was practically buried in her journals under everything else. "How'd you figure that out?"
"The internet is a wonderful place, Barnes." She chuckled, shaking her head.
"But that wasn't your question."
"No." Ramirez agreed, "It wasn't."
"And?"
"Why'd you do it? You were on the run, any one of those incidents could've tipped us off to where you were. Why bother?"
Because of you, He would've said, but he had no idea how she would take that. But it was true. He'd left her to die at the hands of Hydra. He hadn't wanted his inaction to cost anyone else their lives. It sounded stupid in his head, and that was where it was going to stay. "Because it was the right thing to do, and as you well know, I haven't had many opportunities to chose to do the right thing in a while."
"But even if it compromised you?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah." She echoed but said nothing further.
"Is that all you wanted to know, Ms. Ramirez?" Bucky ventured after a moment.
"Mhhh, hmmm." She murmured into her cup, with a slight nod.
"Why?"
Ramirez looked up at him, her dark eyes surveying him, and for the first time since they'd been reacquainted in Wakanda, Bucky got the feeling that she wasn't looking at him unkindly. Not that he deserved her kindness or had earned it in any way, but it was a change, and subtle though it was, Bucky felt like he could breathe again, like he wasn't holding his breath, waiting for calamity to strike.
"Trying to make out your character, Mr. Barnes." She answered finally.
And? He wanted to ask. What have you found? But he knew better than that. If he'd thought her expression had been icy before, he could only imagine how much frostier it would be if he pushed her too far now.
"So you really don't have any questions you want to ask me while I'm trapped here waiting for the rain to stop? Nothing you want to know?" She asked, disbelief tinging her tone, a near smile almost crossing her expression.
"I do have questions, but none that need to be answered right now." He shook his head.
Bucky would like nothing more than to ask her the thousands of questions he had running through his head, just to get them out. But as she'd said, she was trapped here, injured, and very much at his mercy. He wouldn't take advantage of that kind of situation, even if he wanted to.
"I understand." Ramirez nodded, glancing down into her mug. "Well, it isn't warm milk." She murmured, chuckling to herself.,
"Huh?" He asked before he could stop himself.
Ramirez cleared her throat and looked back up at him, "Can I have some more coffee?"
"Yeah, sure." He took her mug and poured her another cup.
Warm milk. It was something his mother had always done. Warm milk was the cure to a variety of ills if you asked Mrs. Winifred Barnes. Bucky hadn't remembered that until now, but why Ramirez had mentioned it he didn't know. "I could steam some milk if you want, it might help take the chill off."
"Oh." She blushed, looking back down into the steam coming up off the coffee. "No. That really won't be necessary."
Okay, now Bucky had even more questions, but none that would be at all appropriate to ask. Had he said or done something to make her blush? What had she meant by "well, it isn't warm milk?" Why did he feel like he was witnessing one side of a conversation that was simultaneously about him, yet had nothing to do with him at all. He didn't know, but he did feel oddly relieved, somehow. She was sitting in his hut, drinking coffee, and they were having what could be considered a pleasant conversation. It was more than he could've hoped to expect, and unfortunately, it still felt like there was a catch. Like some dark cloud was looming over them, figuratively as well as literally.
Ramirez's gaze had drifted back over to the journals, and fixated upon them. Something between nostalgia and pain crossed her features.
"You can have them back if you'd like."
"What?" Her head turned so fast and so hard Bucky thought that she might have snapped her neck.
"Your journals. You can have them back. I know you put a lot of time. It has all the photos. If you want them back." He said.
"No. That won't be necessary." She shook her head. "I want you to have them, Barnes. The journals, the photos, the letter, I gave it to you. I want you to keep them," Ramirez paused. "It might help you reclaim some of what you lost."
Lost? Did she know that he'd lost the journals during the raid in Romania? Had Steve, the Princess, or the King told her? He didn't know, and he didn't want to ask at present. "If you're sure."
"If I never saw them again, it would be too soon." She said.
"Understood." Bucky nodded.
It didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out why she'd feel that way, but it was odd to him that she didn't at least want the photographs of her and Becca back. But, she said she wanted him to have it, all of it. So he wouldn't push her any further.
Why her? Why of all people did she have to be the one to get dragged into all of this? Bucky wanted to ask. It didn't make sense, and it certainly wasn't fair, but he could rage at the universe about fairness all day, and it wouldn't change anything. They could only deal with what they'd been given. All of the wishful thinking in the world wasn't going to change anything.
"It looks like the rain is letting up," Ramirez commented after a long silence.
Bucky looked out the door and to the landscape beyond. It did indeed look like the rain was easing up, and the thunder and lightning seemed to have subsided completely. "How does your ankle feel?"
"Swollen. Probably sprained." She answered grimly.
"All right." he nodded, rising to his feet. "I'll go get the healer, and then get the tools that Omondi borrowed from Jelani so you can get on your way."
Ramirez watched silently as Bucky put his shoes back on, and he was nearly out the door when she spoke. "Barnes?"
"Yeah?" He stopped mid-stride and looked down at her.
"Thank you. For carrying me out of the jungle. I do appreciate not being left in the middle of the storm, despite what I said earlier."
"I understand," Bucky paused. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to ask. Would this be the last and only time he would get the chance to ask? Or would they get another opportunity? He didn't know, but he had gotten the most important thing out, he had apologized and said thank you, that at very least was something. If he only had one chance, he would be thankful he'd gotten to say that at the very least.
Blinking, he realized that Ramirez was still watching him expectantly. "I'll be right back," he said shortly. Then without another word, he walked from the hut and out into the last remnants of the dying storm.
So how about that, huh? They are finally talking (ish) to each other like actual adults! I can't even tell you how many iterations of this scene I went through (I really wanted them to get into a shouting match Pride & Prejudice 2005 style) but ultimately thought this worked better. I hope this relieves some of the tension I know you guys were feeling. We're finally getting out of the petty stage and into the "maybe we can talk to each other" phase of things, which I find to be very, very exciting.
