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!
TW: BIG OLE WARNING For self-harm and self-harm ideation.
Recommended Listening: I'll Be Home for Christmas by Bing Crosby; Something There by Page O'Hara and Robby Benson; Waterfalls by TLC; Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Judy garland
Chapter 40: Something There
There'll be snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree.
Maggie could hear Sam's voice, small and wavering as he sang into the recording. Whether he was singing softly because he didn't want to give away their position, or he didn't want the others to hear him, Maggie didn't know, because all she could hear was him, and she'd been doing her best to get it out of her head for the better part of a week now. It had been two days since Christmas, and just about a week since the King had given her the Kimoyo bead with Sam's recording on it.
It, of course, had been a relief to hear Sam's voice. It had felt a little bit like old times, listening to his voice in the cool and dark of her room after a long day's work. Perhaps a little too much like old times.
Maggie hadn't sent a recording back. She had hoped to be able to get it together long enough to record something for Sam. She'd tried, to her credit, she'd tried several times, but had always gotten weepy halfway through. That was something she'd sworn back in the day when Sam and Riley were on their tour of duty that she would never do. They had to stay focused on doing their jobs and coming home safely. She wouldn't make that more difficult by making them worry about her because she was having a hard time keeping it together.
She felt that way then, and she felt that way now. I wonder if Barnes has sent Steve anything.
She hadn't thought to ask when they'd sat down to watch the first part of Gone With the Wind. They hadn't really had much to say before, during, or after the film. They'd both been exhausted and were both trying to find their way back to somewhat more normal ground after what had happened last week. Barnes hadn't brought it up, but there was that level of uncertainty that was present in their interactions, a level of caution. She was simply trying to give Barnes his space to work through what he needed to work through, and doing her best not to overstep her boundaries.
Maggie wanted to talk to Sam, and with the dancing, and the audio recording, and with everything that was happening, she really wanted to talk with Riley. He would've had something funny and witty and honest to say about all of this. He would've kissed her forehead and made her laugh, and then they would've talked through the options, the choices, the path forward. This time of year the three of them would be snuggled up on the couch, drinking eggnog, with a roaring fire in the fireplace, talking, laughing, listening to Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, The Roches, and any number of other adaptation of Christmas music they'd managed to find for her record player. She missed it, she missed them, and it was all because Sam had decided to sing that song because he'd reminded her of what they had, and what they were now missing. Over the past few years, it had been something that she'd done her best to avoid, ignore, or otherwise keep from thinking about, and now she had to face it again. She missed her home, and she missed the people who'd made it her home.
Maggie blinked, leaning heavily against the workbench. Wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, she looked around. The heat was rising from the ground in waves, making it difficult to breathe, her vision blurring and making her headache.
I'm dehydrated.
She knew the signs. She stooped down to her water skin and took a long draw letting the water run down her chin and soak into her shirt. She then poured a generous amount over her head, exhaling with a satisfied sigh.
"Go home, Cowgirl."
She looked up to see Jelani standing in the shade a short distance away. "Pardon?" Maggie asked breathlessly.
"Go home. It's too hot to do anything. All this can wait until tomorrow." He said, adjusting his grip on his staff.
"Honestly. I'm from Texas. This heat really isn't all that bad." She paused as she felt dizzy, the world around her spinning slightly.
Jelani gave her a look but mercifully said nothing.
"What time is feed delivery today? I'll go home afterward." She reasoned.
"That's what I wanted to tell you. The White Wolf isn't coming. Omondi gave him the day off on account of the heat. Omondi will be by later for dinner and will deliver the feed once the heat breaks. You have no reason to stay out in it as well. Go somewhere cool and in the shade, perhaps take the White Wolf with you to the falls Sisay and I were telling you about.."
"Oh," Maggie replied, trying to ignore the audible disappointment that practically dripped from the exclamation. She hadn't heard anything. Why hadn't he sent her a message? Maybe this was his way of telling her that he didn't want to talk with her or deal with her today.
You're being stupid. It was the kindness, gentlest thing that she could manage. You've ruined everything, you moron, was the next nicest thing, followed by, you fucking idiot, you always do this, you always mess everything up, this is what you do, this is why you're always the only one left standing.
Jelani cleared his throat, and Maggie raised her eyes to match his gaze. "Go home. Get some rest; try to stay out of this heat. It does things to your head if you're not careful."
She nodded. "Thank you. I'll be here tomorrow earlier to try to beat the heat of the afternoon."
At this, Jelani laughed, "I assure you cowgirl, the whole of Wakanda will not crumble if you decide to take a few days for yourself. You've worked non-stop since you've been here and been an avid and keen learner."
Maggie had to swallow back the palpable anxiety that swelled in her chest at the very thought.
"I'll see you tomorrow, all the earlier, cowgirl," Jelani said simply, before walking away.
She nodded, watching as he went.
Jelani was right. Maggie knew he was right. She needed a break. She had worked non-stop since she'd arrived. It would only be right for her to take some time off to take care of herself. She wouldn't, of course. She'd had two and a half years to take time to get her head on straight, and she hadn't. What would make her time in Wakanda any different?
As she cleaned up her work station, her mind wandered back to the message Sam had left for her. She needed to respond, needed to find a way to make it through what she wanted to say.
This isn't about you and about how you're feeling. This is about making sure that Sam knows that you're safe. Whether your happy, healthy, and well adjusted is subjective anyway.
Her palms itched, the pressure was there, in the back of her mind, building, searching for any way out, for any way to relieve that constant and ever-present urge. It wouldn't take much for her to take back control, to manage the raging pain and anger and hurt that she'd damned up behind fragile walls. Just a little bit a siphon, a little bit of a controlled release of pressure, to relieve what was building up just behind her eyes and lurking in the dark corners of her mind.
Maggie arrived back at her single dwelling, and immediately went for the container of ice in the small food storage unit, and pressed an ice cube against her right forearm with her left hand, focusing on the chilling sensation that went up her arm and through her spine. With her free hand, she clicked on the Kimoyo bead, and Sam's voice filled the small room.
'Hey Mags,' Sam began, he sounded tired, but like he was trying to put on a happy face for her. 'It's been a while. Hope you're doing well. Steve, and Wanda, and Nat say hello. We all hope you've settled into life there. The War Dogs who made contact with us said that you're working for a horse breeder. That's good. I'm glad you're working with horses again. I know you were always happiest when you got to be around animals. Even when things were bad, and hard, having your horses, having your routine seemed to help make it not so bad.'
Sam paused, and Maggie could hear him thinking about what he was going to say next.
'I hope you're not alone, though. That you've found people to spend time with, hell, even if it's Barnes, it would be better than you being alone. It's not good for you to be alone.' He faltered, breaking off again. 'I keep thinking about what happened, over the summer, when you went off the grid, when you were alone, in Juarez. Doing what I'm doing now, I can't imagine doing it alone. I have my team, and they have my back. But thinking about you, thinking about how you did all of that alone, how you've been alone...since...well...for a long time now. I don't want you to be alone, and I'm sorry that I couldn't find you sooner.' There was another pause. 'I wish I could be there with you to celebrate Christmas. I know that was always our thing when we were together. That was always Riley's favorite holiday, and we'd always make a huge thing of it. We haven't done that since he's been gone and not going to lie. I've missed it, I think about it, I still think about it, even all these years later.' Sam sighed, 'Damn, sorry. I didn't mean to take my message that direction. This was supposed to be a fun message. A letter home.' Maggie could practically hear him shake his head before he took a deep breath. 'I'll be home for Christmas, You can plan on me, Please have snow and mistletoe, And presents on the tree.' He sang.
Tears started streaming down her face, and she let the ice cube fall from her grasp as she reached up to wipe them away.
'I'll be home for Christmas, If only in my dreams.' It was only then that Sam's voice cracked. He paused, clearing his throat before he continued. 'I love you, Mags, I'm thinking about you, I hope you're doing well, and I hope to hear from you soon. Merry Christmas.'
The recording ended, and Maggie wiped her face before her left hand went instinctively to the chain around her neck.
Maggie froze. It was gone, it wasn't there.
She jumped to her feet, her heart pounding in her ears, her eyes scanning the floor of her small dwelling.
It was gone. The chain, the rings, all of it gone. She frantically rifled through her blankets and bedroll, and the small chest she used to store all of the clothes she'd been given. Through the cloth sack, she used to store her dirty clothes, through her make-shift ofrenda, where she'd set up her grandmother's statue and her grandfather's rosary.
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. She swore silently as she came up empty. Panic turned to anger, which turned into despair, and Maggie sunk down on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Squeezing her eyes and taking deep breaths, she tried to ground herself and slow her panicking mind.
Think. Think slowly, rationally calmly. The logical, rational, calm side of her brain cooed. While the other, louder, more frantic side of her simply screamed, Find it! Find it! Find it!
In response, her brain completely shut down, and she sat numbly for a good five minutes, allowing panic and heart wash over. She'd lost it. She'd lost one of her last tangible connections to Riley. How could she have been so stupid?
Becca had said one day it wouldn't hurt so much and that she'd be able to take off the bands and not feel naked. But it wasn't now. It wasn't like this. Putting Riley aside was supposed to be a choice, was supposed to be part of the process; it wasn't supposed to be ripped away from her like everything else.
Maggie took a couple of deep breaths before opening her eyes again and glancing around the small, now incredibly messy, hut. It's not lost, just misplaced—one thing at a time.
Rising on shaking legs, she took a mental stock. I'm dehydrated, I'm hot, I'm dirty, and I'm panicked. Which one of these things can I fix first?
Chugging a half-gallon of water, Maggie peeled off her dirty work clothes, washing her arms, neck, and chest with a wet towel before pulling on a gauzy white dress. It was floor-length, lightweight, and fitted through the chest and waist with a flowing skirt and sleeves that buttoned at the wrists and neck. She'd bought it on one of her trips to the market, and it flowed freely around her legs, giving her full range of motion, as well as a nice bit of air circulation. She looked like a short, fat, Mexican Florence Welch, but it would work to keep her cool.
She turned to her hair, unwrapping it from its usual braid, she combed it, and collecting her favorite head wrap, started to twist the long lengths of fabric and hair together. It was as headscarf she'd picked out when she'd bought the dress, and the blue, red, and gold pattern of the fabric was woven with vibranium, which in combination with a bunch of highly scientific things Maggie didn't understand, worked to keep her internal temperature regulated. Then grabbing the matching scarf, knotted to of its corners, and pulled it over her head and across her body.
By the time she was finished, Maggie had a plan. She didn't need to sit in her hut and mope. She'd retrace her steps and find Riley's wedding band, first to the shop, then around the shop and barn, before she walked toward Omondi's village, and then Barnes's hut.
After that, who knew. She might even go to the falls, and she might even take Barnes with her. But first, one thing at a time.
It was hot. Really hot. Oppressively hot, and Bucky was doing his best not to move in a vain attempt to keep cool. He couldn't remember a time he'd ever been this hot. He'd been kept in Siberia. He'd fought in the European front during the war. He was from Brooklyn. It got hot, but never lung crushing, skin melting hot like this.
Omondi had given him the day off due to the heat, which meant that he wasn't making his usual rounds for feed delivery. Instead, he was lying flat on his back, in his hut, while he silently debated himself about if he should reach out to Ramirez and let her know that he wasn't going to be by today.
Would she really care? He couldn't help but wonder.
Bucky exhaled, blowing some hair out of his face as he stared up at the thatch ceiling listening to people as they walked by, laughing and talking with one another, completely unaware that he was listening.
He'd done his best to occupy his time, read, write, maybe even watch a movie or something, but it was too hot. So instead, he was stuck in his head, and without anywhere to go, his thoughts were only compounding, building upon one another.
At the moment, he was trying not to think about if he should call Ramirez and let her know that he wasn't going to be by for their usual Tuesday lunch. Mostly, he was thinking about Steve's audio message. Hanukkah had started a few days ago, and much like the two years he'd been on the run, Bucky didn't feel like celebrating. Wasn't sure if he should celebrate. After all, who was there to celebrate with? Steve had sounded in good spirits, though. Wanda Maximoff was with them now, and she was going to celebrate the holiday with Steve. Natasha was, of course, Jewish, but whether or not Steve knew that, Bucky didn't know. Regardless, Steve had Sam and had his team around him to celebrate. That was good. It was good that Steve had people. Steve needed people.
Bucky was still in search of normalcy, and thus far, it felt like trying to bring other people into the mix just hadn't had good results.
Steve had asked Bucky how Ramirez was getting along. If they'd seen anything of one another, She's a good person Buck, and I think you two would get along. He'd mentioned in passing between two of his comments.
If only Steve knew.
Bucky would tell Steve, of course, that he and Ramirez were having their weekly lunches and watching films together. He'd tell Steve that they were perfectly amiable to one another. Bucky wouldn't, however, tell him he was still thinking about what had happened almost a week ago. He felt embarrassed, ashamed almost. Why? He wasn't entirely sure, but he knew that he felt that, strongly, acutely almost. Of course, he and Ramirez had spent time together since then, she'd come over to watch the first part of Gone With the Wind, they'd talked and had a decent time, but it felt like she was keeping her distance. He felt delicate, and he hated that he felt that way.
He paused, sitting up on his elbow, looked around, and paused. Something had caught his eye, something that didn't belong there. Slowly, he rose, his eyes scanning the floor as he searched, and then, crouching down, scooped it up in his hands.
"Oh, fuck." He breathed as he examined the single gold band. It was a man's ring, a wedding ring. He'd seen it before, on a chain, around Ramirez's neck. He scanned the floor for a moment, before locating the chain and the other, much smaller wedding band.
How long had that been on his floor? Since Ramirez had come over for Gone with the Wind? Had she not noticed? How had he not noticed?
I have to get these back to her.
Bucky charged from his hut, and blinking out into the sunshine, heading practically blind for the village. He'd been walking a good ten minutes when he stopped, a single thought piercing through his racing mind. You could've just called her, you moron. He silently scolded himself.
He looked around, blinking as the heat rose off the ground in warbling waves, all of a sudden feeling light-headed. You really should've called her. Bucky exhaled sharply, trying to stop everything from spinning.
"Barnes?" He looked up to see a figure approaching.
He squinted, trying to make out who it was. "Ramirez?"
"Yeah, it's me," Ramirez answered, stopping several feet away. "What are you doing out here?" She asked, glancing him up and down.
Wordlessly, he extended his hand to her and opened his enclosed fist, revealing the broken chain and two wedding bands. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as she crossed the distance between them, her eyes wide and glassy, ready to cry. "Where did you find them?" She asked, tears in her voice.
"They were on the floor. They must've dropped while we were cleaning up after watching the first half of Gone With the Wind. I didn't see them until just now." He explained, watching as she slowly reached out and collected them from his open palm, taking them delicately in both hands.
"Thank you, Barnes, Oh my god, thank you so much." Ramirez breathed as she stowed them away in her bags. "I can't thank you enough." She looked up at him. "You could've called, though."
"Yeah." He nodded, "I realized that after I started walking over to your place."
Ramirez glanced him up and down before speaking again. "Jelani told me Omondi gave you the day off."
"Yeah, he did."
"Jelani also told me that I should take you with me to the swimming hold Sisay told me about."
"He did?"
Ramirez nodded. "You can join me if you'd like. You're likely less adapted to this climate than I am, and cooling off sounds like a good idea all around."
"It is hot," Bucky agreed. Every inch of him was soaked with sweat. He was nearly sure that the nub of the winter soldier prosthesis was about ten degrees hotter than the air around them and sweating as well. He looked Ramirez over. She looked the perfect picture of ease, watching him with her steady, familiar gaze. She didn't even look like she was breaking a sweat. "I wouldn't want to intrude." Bucky paused a moment, feeling light-headed. It was hotter than he'd realized, and he blinked, watching the dark spots dance in front of his eyes.
"You all right?" There was concern tinged her voice; her eyes surveying him carefully.
"Yeah. Fine. It's just a little warmer than I thought."
"Here." She said, rummaging through her bag, she removed a massive water skin and extended it to him.
"I'm fine, really. It's not too far back to the village." He protested.
"Please drink some water, Barnes. You're only out here because of me. I don't want to be responsible for explaining why you passed out and hit your head on a rock."
He relented, nodding, and took the water skin from her. Whether it was the heat, his mood, or just the fact that Ramirez looked far too serious, a small, wry smile twisted in the corner of his mouth, and he lifted the water skin toward her, "Here's looking at you kid." He said before taking a long draw
At that, Ramirez chuckled, shaking her head. "And to think I thought you'd forgotten about that."
"Is it as cheesy as you thought?" He inquired, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, before extending the water skin back to her.
"Keep it for now, and yes, that was cheesier than I could've possibly imagined." She laughed.
"Well, I'll have to find more opportunities to work it into conversation."
"You're a menace, Barnes." She rolled her eyes. "But that whole issue aside, you wouldn't be intruding if you came with me to the falls. I'd like you to come with me."
Really? He wanted to ask. She wanted to spend time with him? He couldn't believe it. Sure, movies and lunches were one thing, but this was an excursion outside of the village, isolated, and alone. She was trusting him. He wasn't sure if it was earned, or warranted, but what was Bucky's alternative? Go back to the village, sit alone in his hut, drink water, and stare at the ceiling? It paled in comparison to the notion that he could spend the afternoon with a beautiful woman. "How far is it?" He asked.
"About a half-mile, if you're up for it. You look like you could use a cool down." She said.
"That's not too bad." He shrugged, trying to be as casual as possible. "And yeah. Getting somewhere cool, and with lots of water sounds good right about now."
"Good. I've marked a waypoint, to avoid any confusion or getting lost." She said proudly, adjusting the straps of her bag.
"Lead the way then, Ramirez."
"Can do Barnes. Keep drinking water." She said, opening up the map on the kimoyo bracelet, they started walking.
They walked in amicable silence, Bucky drinking from the water skin and watching as Ramirez navigated. It was strange to see her not in her work clothes. He'd seen it a few times now, but it was always jarring. She fit in a very specific mental slot, and that slot included pants, a plaid shirt, and boots, or some variation therein. Everything about her today was soft lines, from the flowing skirts to the way her hair was wrapped, to even her expression. Light and soft, and drawing his eye. Was it the heat, or had he honestly just never noticed how beautiful she was before?
Her warm brown skin was smooth and flawless. Her eyes dark and inquisitive, her jaw, while tensed was angular and defined, was softer and more rounded now. Her thick brows were knit together, her lips pursed as she surveyed the map. Stopping, she looked down at the map and then around, making eye contact with him.
"What?" She asked, almost bashfully as she caught his gaze.
"Avoid getting lost, huh?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and managing a small reserved smile as he took another draw from the water skin.
Ramirez rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Not...as...such..." She hesitated.
"May I see?" Bucky said as he walked up beside her.
"Sure, be my guest," Ramirez replied, extending her right hand to him, and he looked the map over.
They were standing more or less where the waypoint had been set, but obviously not where they wanted to be. "I think you've gotten us lost, Ramirez." He chuckled.
"Apparently so." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I swear my sense of direction isn't normally this shitty."
Bucky didn't say anything. His attention had been grabbed by something in the background, something nearly out of earshot. "We're close." He said, glancing over at her. "Trust me."
Ramirez nodded and followed behind him in silence. It didn't take long until they came to a clearing, and a waterfall rose up before them, feeding the crystal clear pool below. "Wow," Ramirez commented softly, soaking in their surroundings. "This is beautiful."
Bucky nodded in agreement. "Yeah."
"Thanks for fixing my directional miscalculation."
"You weren't far off." He shrugged, watching as she set down her bag and pulled off her cross-body scarf and boots.
"We might have been wandering a while." She replied as she gathered up her long skirts and tied them around her waist, exposing her calves and a good portion of her thigh. Her warm brown skin looked smooth and soft. Her calves were well defined and muscular. You're starring, stop starring. You've seen a woman's legs before. "Are you going into the water, boots and all, James Barnes?"
Her voice called, and he blinked, realizing he'd been staring. "What?" He stammered.
"I asked if you're going into the water, boots and all," Ramirez repeated, picking her way over to the water's edge.
"Oh." You're going in, going in the water. He realized, watching her wade into the crystal clear water. "I was thinking I was going to refill the water skin and try to continue to re-hydrate." He answered lamely. He knew how to swim. He just wasn't sure if he could manage it with one arm. He'd never tried. Aside from that, going into the water with or without clothes was likely to draw a comment of some kind from Ramirez. He'd rather not deal with that right now.
"That makes total sense." She answered, slowly picking her way through the pool, the water about knee-deep now. "Plus someone needs to fish me out if I slip and—" The words had hardly left her mouth before she slipped, falling into the water with a loud splash. She reappeared with a chorus of spluttering and swearing.
"You alright?" Bucky walked to the water's edge, watching her rise unsteadily to her feet, her legs shaking like a newborn goat.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. That one's on m-" She slipped again.
Bucky chuckled, kicking off his boots, started into the water after her. "You really don't have-" Ramirez started but was cut off as she slipped again. By the time he made it to her, she'd gotten back up and was trying to steady herself.
"Here." He extended his hand to her.
"Thanks." She said breathlessly, taking it in hers.
"No prob-"
Then, against all the odds, he lost his balance and slipped, pulling them both into the water. They both came up gasping and pushing the hair out of his face, he looked at her, both of them breathing heavily. Was she going to be angry?
"Oops?"
Then, something broke in him, like a damn, and he threw his head back, and he started to laugh. Ramirez stared a moment, stunned before his laughing became infections, and she joined in.
Bucky wasn't entirely sure why he was laughing, or for that matter, why Ramirez found it all that funny, but they laughed and laughed and laughed until their sides ached. Eventually, they hauled themselves to the shore and lay flat on the hot rocks starring at the clear blue sky. Chests heaving, they laughed weakly, trying to gasp enough air to say something.
How long had it been since he'd laughed like that? Had he, in fact, ever laughed this hard, this long, with someone? Yes. He'd been twelve, and Steve had said something, not all that funny that had made them laugh and laugh and laugh until his mother had come outside to see what the noise was all about. He glanced over at Ramirez, who had tears streaming down her face from laughing so hard, or was it water? Hard to tell. "You okay there, Barnes?" She managed after a moment.
"Yeah. you?"
"So far as I can tell." She shook her head, standing up, she starting ringing out her skirt, walking to where she'd set down her bag and scarf.
"You done swimming?" He asked.
"No." Ramirez shook her head, her fingers working on the soaking knot keeping the skirts up. "I want to let my dress dry, so I have something to wear on the way back." She answered as the knot came loose and the skirts fell in a wet sheet around her legs. Unbuttoning the cuffs and collar of the dress, she started pulling the soaked gauzy fabric away from her skin and...
"Oh..." Bucky stammered. "Do you want?... I can..." He turned away, averting his eyes.
"I'm wearing shorts and a sports bra, Barnes. I'm hardly indecent." Bucky could hear the smile in her voice. "But I appreciate your decency. You can turn around if you like." She said, and he turned to see her laying the dress out to dry on the grass.
Ramirez rose and turned to face him, and his eyes were drawn to the scars running up and down her thighs in straight, neat little white lines. Some of the scars were nearly faded completely. He frowned. He'd never seen scars like that. "You can ask if you'd like." He looked up and met her direct gaze. He'd been starring again. "I don't mind," She said gently.
"What happened?" His mind went directly to Hydra. They'd tortured her...but He didn't remember them doing anything like that. It wasn't their calling card. The scar on her arm and hand, that was Hydra. They crushed and mutilated limbs to get what they wanted out of their victims. No, the scars on her legs were something else.
"Friendly fire." She supplied.
"Huh?" He furrowed his brow, meeting her gaze.
"They're razor blade cuts," Ramirez explained gently. "I have a history of self-harm. I started in high school and finally got help midway through college. My last bad relapse was after Riley died. But it's something I've struggled with for as long as I can remember." Ramirez said as she walked past him back toward the water.
Bucky turned, watching her walk a little way into the water and sit down. She didn't look upset or even angry. Just thoughtful. "I'm sorry." He said after a moment.
"It doesn't bother me, Barnes. It used to, but nowadays, it's just part of the scenery." She shrugged.
He reached up to his left shoulder, his fingers running along where the scars had formed long ragged paths from the continued abuse. The skin retained the memory of what he'd done or rather what he'd tried to do to himself. He'd tried at every opportunity to dig that thing out of him, even if it meant doing it with his own hand. Hydra had restrained him, sedated him, and physically punished him for trying to dig that thing out, but he'd persisted, desperate, frantic to undo what they'd done to him. Even now, that metal shoulder plate was still in his body, and every now and again, he'd get the urge to itch to scratch and pick at it, to claw and get the rest of it out—the last bit of Hydra. Well...one of the last bits anyway. Was that self-harm? It had felt like self-preservation at the time, a way to control what was happening, a way to fight back, a way to remain grounded at least momentarily in who he was. Was that the she same urge she'd felt every time she'd put a razor blade to her skin? Afraid second to second what she was doing but unable to stop herself. Bucky shook his head. How did she do it? Be so open and honest? So cavalier about something that had caused her tremendous pain? How could she still be so gentle and kind when she had endured so much?
Well, fair was fair. Bucky thought. She'd shown him hers. Now he'd show her his. He paused. "Do you mind if I take off my shirt?"
"What you afraid you're going to blind me with your white skin, James Barnes?" She turned to face him, a broad smile across her face. She stopped, eyes surveying him a moment, her expression going serious. "Oh," Ramirez said slowly. "No. Your lack of limb isn't going to put me off. Do whatever is going to be most comfortable for you."
Bucky nodded and removing the scarf, he deposited it on the ground next to her dress, before slowly working the buttons of his shirt. Ramirez turned back the way she'd been facing to give him a semblance of privacy.
She knows. She knows what you did to yourself. She knows what they did to you. His mind screamed at him.
He peeled the damp shirt away from his clammy skin and set it out to dry as well.
She's a former Veteran therapist. She's seen the files. Why are you so nervous about this? The old Bucky would never have been nervous about this, being shirtless in the presence of another human being. Then again, the old Bucky wasn't scarred and mutilated and missing a limb. The old Bucky hadn't had mind and body ripped apart and stitched back together more times than he could remember. The Bucky from before, the real Bucky, was whole. He was not. He was vulnerable, exposed, with nothing to hide behind.
He glanced at the metal shoulder plate and the fabric cap covering what remained of the metal limb and exhaled slowly. Might as well get this over with. Bucky paused, walking up beside where she was sitting and looked down. Her self harm scars, white and bright against her otherwise dark smooth skin.
Just a part of the scenery. That's what she'd said.
How long had it taken her to get to that place? How long would it take him to become as comfortable in his own skin as she appeared to be in hers?
He sunk down beside her on her left side, and she turned her head to him, her eyes glancing him over for no more than half a second. "You really are very white. You know that?"
"So you keep reminding me."
Ramirez chuckled, but said nothing further, turning her attention back to the waterfall.
Was that what he wanted? No commentary about his missing limb, no wincing or look of pity, no unasked questions, no half asked, or nearly innocent questions. Perhaps, he realized, it was almost worse, not knowing, not getting a reaction out of her, not hearing what she thought of it, thought of him than knowing would be.
Bucky glanced over at her. She had both her arms behind her and was leaning against them. Her head was back, her eyes closed, just basking in the warm sun, the cool water on her legs and stomach. Ramirez looked radiant, her skin glowed in the sun, her dark hair was still neatly twisted on the top of her head with the scarf, and her expression soft and content.
Bucky found that he wanted to reach over and touch her just to make sure he wasn't imagining all of this. She couldn't be real. She couldn't actually be here with him in this beautiful place. It had to be a dream. There was no way this woman would ever have given him the time of day back in the world, back when he was a whole functioning human being with good looks and charm. So why on earth was she so content to spend her afternoon with the sad husk of what remained of James Barnes?
But she is.
That was true. If she was horrified or repulsed by him, wouldn't she have expressed it by now? She was no stranger to what he was, everything that he was. Would she have really sought out his presence if she thought he was revolting or repugnant?
No. She wouldn't have.
Bucky exhaled slowly, trying to slow his racing pulse and release some of the tension that had built up.
"That's a good sound," Ramirez commented.
"Pardon?"
"You're relaxing. It's good." She said, opening her eyes, she blinked bleary eye-ed as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. She looked over at him. "Personally, I could use a full body massage and a frozen margarita, but this certainly does in a pinch."
"Yeah. It's nice to get out of the heat for a while." He agreed,
"Nice to get out of the village, away from life a little bit," She said, splashing herself with a bit of water.
Bucky nodded, again saying nothing. Small talk was not his forte.
"You know what, Barnes," She said, her eyes scanning the waterfall and rock face, "I'm going to jump off that ledge."
"You what?" He asked, taken aback.
"That ledge, up there," She pointed.
Bucky followed her line of sight to a ledge about fifty feet up. "Why?" He looked over at her.
"I dunno." She shrugged. "There was a big jumping rock at the lake where my parents used to take my brother and me over the summer. They never would let me jump off it. I guess living out childhood dreams."
Bucky glanced between her and the ledge. It wasn't a huge drop. There were no rocks or debris to avoid, it was safe enough, but as someone who'd spent considerable time jumping and falling from great heights over the last 70 years, he couldn't quite see the appeal. "Uh. Huh." He nodded skeptically.
"I'm not asking you to go with Barnes. Actually, you should stay down here in case I crack my head open on a rock," Ramirez said, wading toward the shore.
"And you're trusting the one-armed guy to fish you out?" Bucky asked skeptically.
"Well. As I have no other readily available alternative, I'll just have to trust you." She reached the shore, turned, and smiled. "I don't plan on cracking my head open if that makes you feel any better."
"Slightly." He shrugged, watching her pick her way toward the rock face. "Although I don't think that ordeal back there is inspiring any confidence," Bucky added.
"I don't think slippery muddy rocks have any bearing on my ability to climb and jump off a ledge, James Barnes." She laughed, starting her ascent upward. "But I take your point." She paused, hauling herself on top of the ledge. Bucky winced but kept a careful eye on her as she scrabbled atop the flat surface. "You can't tell me that you and Steve and your sisters didn't do anything ill-advised when you were younger." She said, her voice echoing over the water as she approached the edge of the ledge, she glanced down a moment.
"We did. I'd argue Steve never stopped, but I can't say that I'd recommend a lot of what we did as kids to anyone today."
"I'm not sure if one could argue you and Steve turned out okay, but I can certainly vouch for Becca." She laughed, but there was something pitchy about it, something uncertain.
He frowned as he watched her approach and then back away from the ledge. Something's wrong. "You okay?"
"Yeah. About that." Her voice was small and shaky. She laughed weakly, approaching the ledge, peering down before backing away again.
Holy cow, she's afraid of heights. He almost laughed. Almost. It was a bit of a relief to know that the woman who had harbored the Winter Soldier in her barn, performed light medical and mechanical operations in a grimy outbuilding, survived a Hydra raid on her house and subsequent torture, and had spent two and half years in some state of hiding or on the run was afraid of something. Or rather, in Bucky's mind, possessed at least an iota of what could remotely be called a survival instinct. Your average human wasn't built to survive large drops and so tended to be adverse to them. So far as he was aware, she wasn't medically modified or super-powered, so her survival instinct was doing what it was supposed to in the face of danger, telling her not to jump. He looked up and saw that she was watching him, doing her best to keep the fear out of her eyes and failing.
"Yeah. Yeah. I know." Ramirez said in what Bucky was sure she thought was a light-hearted and sarcastic voice. Instead, it came out leaden with terror.
Of all things to be afraid of, heights. She should be terrified of me, on principle, but no heights are what does it. There were worse things, but in context, it was the slightest bit amusing.
The wind blew, and she shivered. "The longer you stand up there, the worse it's going to get Ramirez," He called. "You could always climb down."
"And give you the satisfaction?" She asked.
Bucky paused, uncertain of how to respond. She doesn't really care what I think of her, does she? He pondered a moment. Not that he for a second would think less of her for something like this, it was just strange to think that she cared what he thought. Ramirez was willful, self-possessed, and confident. She shouldn't care what he thought. And so she was afraid of heights, so what? In point of fact, so was he. The only difference between the two of them was that he'd had all self-preservation instincts manually switched off for 70 years by a bunch of sadistic mother fuckers and the medical modifications to ensure he didn't die if he did take a massive fall.
"I wouldn't put much stock in what I think. I'm a 100-year-old cyborg with a history of very bad decision making." He said dryly.
"But?"
"But," he continued, "if you take a running start, you won't have time to overthink. You'll be over the edge before you can stop yourself. When you get airborne, just make sure you cross your ankles and cross your arms across your chest. It'll make sure you don't hurt yourself on accident," He said. It was the best he could do in the given circumstances.
"Uh, huh." Ramirez nodded.
"And remember you enlisted me to drag you out if you do hit your head. So you got nothing to worry about."
"Thanks for that, Barnes." She said with an audible twang, backing toward the cliff wall and out of his line of sight.
"Hey!" Bucky called, a smile twisting at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't you say it!" Ramirez warned.
"Here's look-"
He was cut short by what could best be described as a battle cry as Ramirez sprinted from the ledge. The cry transformed into a scream which was drowned out by a splash and then silence. Bucky held his breath, watching the spot where she'd disappeared into the water, silently counting, waiting for her to come up.
Ramirez breached the surface coughing and gasping for air. "You alright?" He asked, swimming out to where she was treading water. She didn't answer. "Ramirez, you gotta answer me," Bucky said adamantly as he swam over to her. She nodded, coughing.
He surveyed her a moment before determining that other than being out of breath, she appeared to be okay. "Come on, let's get you on dry land."
Ramirez nodded again, and they both made for the shoreline. "Well. You survived your first cliff dive. How do you feel?" Bucky asked once they both could wade toward the shore.
She chuckled weakly, "Uhhh. Terrible. I thought it wouldn't be so bad. It didn't look so high up from down here. I don't think I'll be making a habit of that."
"Sounds like a smart move all around."
"I'd agree." She was shaking from head to toe, her arms wrapped around her torso. She had been scared. More scared than he'd certainly ever seen her. Bucky gently guided her to where they'd set up, and they both sat down in the grass. Ramirez lay flat on her back, chest heaving, and squeezed her eyes shut.
"You did good, Ramirez," He commented after a moment.
"Thanks, Barnes."
Bucky said nothing but watched her in silence, giving her the time and space she needed to come down from her adrenaline rush. After a moment, she rolled onto her stomach and dragged her bag toward her. Removing a mango and a knife, she rolled back over and sat up. "Would you like half," Ramirez asked, as she started cutting into the large fruit.
"Sure." He shrugged.
She worked slowly and purposefully as she cut the mango in half, handing him the larger of the two pieces. "Thanks." Bucky murmured as he took it from her, their hands momentarily brushing.
"No problem." She replied.
Ramirez took a big bite of hers, juice running down her chin, and she looked up just in time to catch his gaze. "What?" She laughed with her mouth full, a blush rising on her cheeks.
"Nothin." He shook his head, biting into the mango.
Ramirez nodded, taking another bite. She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "You know what I miss from home?"
"What's that?" Bucky asked.
"A good cantaloupe," She answered.
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. Of all the things he thought she might say, Cantaloupe hadn't made the list, any list, ever. "Cantaloupe?"
"Yeah. A good one, mind you. Pecos cantaloupes are the best cantaloupes in the world. Ramirez said wistfully, and Bucky new that she was going somewhere far away, crossing time and space beyond his reach. "They're the sweetest, juiciest, most delicious cantaloupes in the world. It's hotter and dryer than hell out in Pecos, which I guess is why the cantaloupes from there taste so good. You know you have a good one when the rind is coated in the dry powdery dirt when you get it from the supermarket. My mom would always cut one up and stick it in the cooler with watermelon when we'd go to the lake. That way, when we got out of the water, we could have a cold snack before lunch." She smiled, taking another bite of the mango.
"Sounds nice." He commented.
"Mhhh hmmm," Ramirez mumbled, taking another bite of the mango. She shook her head and swallowed. "The mango just isn't doing it for me at the moment." She settled back into the grass, still holding the mango. "What about you, Barnes? Is there something you miss from home?"
Bucky paused. What could he possibly say that wouldn't turn this into a really dark conversation? I miss having my arm. I miss having my sanity. I miss sleeping through the night without waking up in cold sweats. I miss not being an international war criminal. No, she'd asked an innocent question. He wouldn't muddy the waters with something so...morose. "Uhhh. I miss my mother's Latkes." He blurted out.
It was true. He'd spend the last few days thinking about celebrations, about how his family had always gathered together for every holiday and had a meal together. It was still difficult to think about his family, think about the fact he hadn't been able to say goodbye. He hadn't really thought about what he missed from home. He'd thought a lot about what he'd lost, about the things that he could never get back, but never about home itself and what made it so special. It was more a feeling more of a sensation than an actual experience—something intangible just on the tip of his tongue. "I miss how simple everything felt. Steve and I dancing in our socks to the radio, helping my sisters with their homework, helping Becca with her hair. Watching my mother cook during the holidays and being shooed from the kitchen when I tried to sneak a bite before it was ready." He shook his head. "It was a long time ago."
"That sounds lovely." Ramirez paused, a contemplative, somber expression crossed her face.
"What?"
"Latkes. I haven't had them in a few years." She sighed wistfully.
Since Becca died, she didn't say it, but Bucky knew the tone. "Well, we'll have to remedy that sometime before Hanukkah ends." He commented slowly, wincing the metal of the shoulder plate was heating up, he could feel the skin around it burning.
"You okay?" Ramirez asked, sitting up, concern riddling her expression.
"Oh. Just hot metal on skin." Bucky shrugged.
"That doesn't look or sound comfortable." She said, setting down the mango, she reached up to her hair and started untying the headscarf holding her hair in place.
"It's...fine...what are you doing?" He asked, watching as her hair cascaded from the scarf, falling in dark tendrils down her back. She untwisted the fabric, flattening it to its real length and width.
"Will you trust me?" Ramirez inquired, rising to her feet, standing over him expectantly.
He looked her up and down skeptically. "Why?"
"Oh. Right. So." She continued. "This scarf is woven with special cooling technology. Don't ask me how it works because I can't explain it, but basically, it detects your body temperature with the outside temperature and keeps you cool in the heat." She explained, "May I?" Ramirez motioned to his left shoulder with her chin.
Bucky looked between her and the scarf and nodded hesitantly, more curious to see where she was going with this than apprehensive about what she might do.
"So I'm going to wrap this around your left shoulder, and the prosthesis, and then tie it around your body, and knot it against your right rib cage." She explained as she knelt down beside him. "It'll cool down your core and should relieve some of the burning."
"Okay." He managed.
Ramirez hesitated. "I'm not going to do this unless I have your consent."
Why? Why do you care so much? He couldn't help but wonder. Instead, he nodded, "You have my consent."
"Okay. let me know if anything I do hurts you." She said.
Just like back in the outbuilding, just like on Last Chance, she was worried about hurting him, even when they both knew that he was more likely the one to hurt her than vice versa.
Ramirez moved quickly and purposefully, draping the scarf over his left shoulder and the fabric cap of the Winter Soldier prosthesis. The wet fabric was cool against his skin and immediately eased the burning sensation creeping into his shoulder and neck. She pulled the two ends of the scarf down to his left rib cage, where the plate was inset and pressed the cloth against the seam of metal and skin. He winced, and she withdrew her hands. "I'm sorry." Ramirez rushed.
"I should've warned you that part is more sensitive." He replied, looking up into her concerned expression. "There very little you could do to hurt me that hasn't been done before."
"I know, but it doesn't mean that you should grin and bear the discomfort." She murmured as she continued her work.
Grin and bear the discomfort. That was what he was doing, wasn't it? It's what he'd done for two years while on the run. It's what he'd done in the immediate aftermath of the prosthesis being blown off. It's what he did, in some small part, when ignoring the stares and whispers as he walked past. But he didn't have to, at least according to Ramirez. He shouldn't have to bear the discomfort. Yet somehow, he didn't necessarily see that there was any alternative.
"I'm going to tie the scarf across your body, and knot it against your right rib cage. If I may?"
"Sure."
Ramirez resuming her work adjusting the fabric, she leaned into him, her hair falling over her shoulders in waves, their loose ends brushing against his skin. "Excuse me." She said, moving around him, she pulled the scarf taut and tied the ends together, knotting them firmly. "Is that too tight? Can you breathe just fine?" Ramirez asked.
"Yeah. It's good." Bucky nodded, exhaling a deep breath.
"You might want to put your shirt back on Lobo Blanco, whettos don't normally fare very well in the sun." She smiled, her hands trailing over his shoulders before she sat back down on the grass beside him and resumed eating her mango.
"Thank you." He said after a moment. He could feel his core body temperature dropping to a more tolerable level.
"No problem," Ramirez said, as she took another bite of her mango.
Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled a long breath. He could smell the dampness of the scarf, taste and smell the sweetness of the mango, feel the warmth of the sun against his bare skin, hear the sound of the water crashing over the falls. This was about as close to paradise as he would ever come, and he was closer to paradise than he deserved, but it wasn't home. It wasn't his home. His home was far away in a time and space that no longer existed.
Ramirez rolled onto her back and covering her face with her hands. There were dirt and bits of grass on her stomach, her legs bent, her feet flat on the ground, toes gripping into the damp soil and grass. She looked so vulnerable and open. Fearless. Wholly and utterly fearless. How was she handling all of this? It had been Christmas a few days ago. How was she handling being alone for the holidays? Being separated from friends and family, and anything remotely familiar? If it was bothering her, she certainly wasn't letting on.
Bucky paused, thinking about the absolute relief that had crossed her expression when he'd produced the wedding bands. Perhaps she wasn't handling all of this as well as he thought. Maybe she was having as hard of a time as he was with all of this.
Bucky watched her a moment longer, lounging in the grass as he mustered the courage to ask what he was getting ready to say. "You responded to Wilson's audio message yet?"
She stiffened, glancing up at him. "No. You responded to Steve's yet?"
"No." He shook his head.
"Oh, thank god." She breathed.
Bucky frowned. That wasn't necessarily the reaction he'd expected from her. "What?"
"Oh. I thought I was the only one. I can't for the life of me think of what I want to say." She explained quickly.
"You too, huh?" He had to keep from smiling as relief washed over him. He wasn't the only one.
"I've been trying to figure out what I want to say since last week, and it's eating me up from the inside out," Ramirez admitted, biting the corner of her mouth, she shook her head. "It was a lot easier when I was stateside and had the ranch to report about."
"You and Wilson exchanged letters?"
"When he and Riley were on tour, yeah. We did audio letters too. I have them somewhere." She shook her head. "I don't know what Sam wants to hear. I don't want to lie, but then again, I don't want to worry him either."
"Yeah, I get that."
Ramirez paused, adjusting, she rolled over to look at him. "What a pair we are, Bucky Barnes." She paused a moment before speaking again. "Did you get a message from Natasha?"
The question surprised him. It wasn't that he was surprised Ramirez would be concerned about Natasha. It was that he was surprised she would mention anything about it to him. "No." He shook his head. "Steve said that she'd found them, but didn't provide much else in the way of detail."
"Yeah. Sam too. He said that she sent her regards." Ramirez sighed, rolling onto her back and throwing her arm over her face again. "I miss her."
Yeah, me too. He didn't say it. He didn't really need to say it. Ramirez knew, perhaps not all, but enough about him and about his time with Hydra to know about him and Natasha. What surprised him was that Ramirez didn't push. She never pushed, about anything, more or less. If he'd been in her place, he'd have thousands of questions, even after all the research she'd done. Yet, if she did, she kept them to herself. Bucky wasn't quite sure what to think about that.
Bucky paused, pulled momentarily from his thoughts at the sound of Ramirez humming, just barely audible over the roar of the waterfall. "There'll be snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree." He recognized the tune.
"A fan of Bing Crosby?" Bucky inquired, breaking the silence.
"Yeah. Kinda? Sam sang some of it for the recording he sent me, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. Why? You a fan?"
"I saw him once when he was touring with the USO."
At this, Ramirez sat back up, starring. "What?"
"What do you mean, what? He toured with the USO, and Steve had connections being a hardened veteran of show business himself. Or did Steve fail to mention that?"
"Yeah, no. It never came up. The bastard." Ramirez said, sounding more than a little scandalized.
At this, Bucky laughed. "I guess he also didn't tell you that he personally plowed over Glenn Miller in an attempt to avoid his handler before a show in Alabama."
"Yeah, that would also be a no."
"So all you did for two years was sit around and talk about me then, huh?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.
"Well, not to inflate your ego anymore than this is going to, but yes, that sounds about right."
"Sounds pretty boring."
"Not as boring as you might think." She chuckled, flopping back down into the grass.
"Really?"
"Really, James Barnes," Ramirez said. "Though I have to admit, your sister was far more forthcoming with the funny stories than Steve was."
"Oh, no."
"My particular favorite was about that time she found you naked out on the fire escape at six in the morning when you nearly made the little old lady across the way faint from the shock. What did Becca say her name was...?"
"Mrs. McGregor, Fanny McGregor. God...jeezus." Bucky buried his face in his hand. "Why?"
"Because I was having a bad day, and your sister was trying to make me laugh."
"Did it work?"
"Yes. Becca was a phenomenal storyteller." Ramirez chuckled. "It's not so bad, Barnes. I was once arrested for public indecency and animal endangerment."
"I saw that in your record, what was it for?"
"Riding one of my friend's horse around town bareback...while completely naked..." She paused, and to Bucky's satisfaction went several shades of scarlet. "Well, almost completely, I was wearing a silver sequined cowgirl hat."
"That sounds like a story. You tell my sister that one?"
"No. Heavens, no. I was never quite drunk enough to tell her that one." Her voice went up nearly an entire octave until it was nearly manic. "I was in college, it was on a dare, and I was absolutely and completely trashed."
"I bet."
Ramirez rolled her eyes, though very clearly still embarrassed, shook her head. She sighed, "I miss your sister. Those first six months after..." She faded off, chewing on the inside of her mouth before continuing. "Those first few months after Last Chance, it was hard, losing everyone, losing my support network, Bill, Mike, Suzanne, but your sister gave me a sense of normalcy, a sense of direction." Ramirez sighed, looking up at him. "She really was a terrific human being, and I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to see one another again before she passed away."
Bucky didn't know what to say, what he could say. They fell back into silence as they sat in the shade, eating their mangos, and listening to the sounds of the waterfall and jungle around them.
Then, he heard it, the sound of Ramirez's kimoyo bracelet buzzing. Sitting up, she groaned irritably. "Barnes, you really should start wearing your kimoyo bracelet more."
"Huh? Why's that?"
"The Princess Shuri was trying to get ahold of you for something or another, then contacted Omondi, who went to find that you weren't there, and so now they're buzzing me."
"Damn," He grumbled, shaking his head. "What are they saying?'
"Just asking if you're with me." She answered with a sigh as she started typing in the message, paused, glancing over at him. "Do you want me to lie or tell the truth?"
"Lie?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I dunno, if you wanna avoid them or whatever. I'd be willing to cover." A mischievous expression passed momentarily over her face.
"No. Tell them you're with me and that I'll be back in the village in thirty minutes." Bucky replied with a heavy sigh as he turned to collect his shirt and scarf, which were both drying beside him.
"We should both probably head back." She said as she sent the message.
"I didn't mean to cut your outing short," Bucky said, a twinge of guilt twisting in the pit of his stomach.
"Not at all. I came, I saw, I swam, I chilled, and now I think I'm ready to go back and face reality for a little bit." She shrugged, pulling the dress over her head, and buttoning the collar and cuffs.
"If you're sure." He said, tugging on his boots.
"I am." She nodded.
"Do you want your scarf back?" He asked, watching as she twisted her hair into a tidy little bun on the top of her head.
"You can keep it, I think, in this heat, you need it more than I do." She said.
"You don't have to do that, I don't want to take your stuff," He stammered.
Ramirez paused, her right hand fiddling with the clasp of the bracelet he'd bought her for her birthday, "Consider it a Hanukkah present, and a thank you gift for finding and returning the wedding bands to me."
Bucky paused, surveying her. A Hanukkah present? A thank you gift? He would've protested, but he got the nagging sensation that it would be a losing battle. Nodding in admitted defeat, he pulled on his shirt, fastening the buttons, before wrapping his scarf back around him.
"You ready then?" Ramirez asked, crouched by the water's edge and refilling the water skin.
"Yeah." He nodded, picking up her bag, he slung it over his shoulder.
Ramirez look at him, opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it as she re-sealed the water skin. "Shall we? Bucky Barnes? Handler of the bags, and protector of women?" She asked, with a wry smile.
He rolled his eyes but nodded, trying to ignore the way that his stomach fluttered at the sound of her saying his name, and they started walking back the way they'd come earlier in the afternoon.
I have to find a way to get her back. I can't just let her give me her scarf. He pondered as they walked. "So I was thinking," He began slowly.
"That's a dangerous past time," Ramirez chuckled.
"Right?" Bucky agreed but pressed forward anyway. "Since it is still Hanukkah for the next few days, I was wondering if you'd like to come over to my place for dinner tonight, maybe finish up Gone with the Wind. I was thinking about trying to recreate my mother's Latke recipe. Since you've had them more recently than I have, you'd have a keener sense of if my recipe is accurate than I would."
Ramirez stopped and looked back at him, "That's really kind of you, Barnes, but I'm afraid I can't."
"Oh. Okay." He nodded, hoping that she couldn't see the look of disappointment he was sure was written across his face.
"I have some things I need to take care of. That message back to Sam for one. Can we do tomorrow?" She said as they started walking again.
"Well, I don't exactly have any pressing appointments," Bucky said, glancing around. "So yeah, tomorrow sounds good."
"Awesome, what time?"
"How does seven sound?"
"Perfect." Ramirez smiled as they entered the clearing where they'd met earlier in the afternoon. "I believe this is where we part ways, Bucky Barnes. My bag, please."
"Of course." He nodded, removing the bag and extending it to her.
She took the bag with both hands and slung the strap across her chest. "Thank you for going on an adventure with me today. I hope you had fun."
"Yeah. We should do it again sometime."
"For sure." She paused, adjusting the bag. "So, tomorrow, then?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
"Sounds good. I'll see you then. Let me know if I can bring anything."
"I think I can manage, but I'll let you know if I think of anything."
"Awesome. Have a good evening Barnes."
"You too, Ramirez."
There was a slight pause as they both made eye contact, and there was something in her expression that made Bucky pause. Before he could put his finger on what exactly it was, she smiled, nodded, and started walking back toward the horse village.
So she was going back to the village to send off her recording to Sam. Maybe, whenever he'd settled whatever it was that the Princess needed from him, he'd send off his message to Steve. He just might have something to say now, and with the promise of Latkes wafting in the air, he'd be able to send off a good message to Steve.
Watching until she disappeared from sight, Bucky turned and headed back down the path he'd come just a few hours before.
Maggie could feel his gaze on her as she walked away, and she smiled. That had been fun, had been a lot of fun, and from the sounds of it, Barnes had enjoyed himself as well, which felt like a big win all around. Aside from that, they'd made plans for tomorrow, which meant that she had something to look forward to, something to keep her mind off everything else swirling in her brain.
She made it back to the village and ducked inside.
Digging the wedding bands and chain out of the bag, she draped the chain around the Our Lady of Guadalupe statue and placed the rings on the statue's hands.
Maggie smiled gently as she stroked the statue's face. Someday you'll be able to take off those wedding bands without feeling like you're removing a part of yourself. Not today, not for a while yet, but eventually, it won't hurt quite so much. She could hear Becca say, back in her living room, what felt like a thousand years ago.
It hadn't felt that way this afternoon when she'd been so frantic she'd nearly made herself sick. It had felt like the world was ending, felt like everything was going to be crashing down around her. But then, it hadn't, and once the initial panic had passed, she'd been able to move forward. She was thankful that Barnes had found them and was glad to have them back, of course, but she wouldn't put them on a new chain and wouldn't have them chain clasp repaired. Having them on her grandmother's statue would be enough. It hurt, but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as she thought it would.
You're healing. She would've told her clients, had this been one of them. Instead, it was just her and her thoughts, and she had no one to tell, no one to remark on her slow, very slow progress. Maybe that was okay too.
Picking up the Kimoyo bead, she sat down and hit record. "Hey, Sammie! Thank you for your message. I'm glad to hear that you're doing well and that the gang is together and likewise in good spirits and health." She began brightly. "Sorry, it took me so long to get back to you. I wasn't quite sure what to say." She admitted. "I'm doing okay here, doing my best to settle into a routine. I really have enjoyed working with horses again. It's been fun." Maggie paused, taking in a deep breath. "Barnes and I have been hanging out, watching movies from the AFI's 100 greatest American films list. Apparently, Steve has some strong feelings about Citizen Kane you need to ask him about. We went to the falls today, and I jumped off a big ledge into the water, which you know how I am about heights. I was concerned that Barnes was going to have to come and extract me from the top." She chuckled. "But we're good, I'm good. We're doing well here." Maggie paused again, looking around, a small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she began to sing. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the let your heart be light, from now on your troubles will be out of sight." She continued singing.
The hut didn't have the best acoustics, her voice was pitchy, but she managed through the whole thing without her voice wavering. And she wished, with all of her heart, with all of her might for the lyrics to be true. That their troubles would be miles away, that they'd all be able to gather nearer to one another than they were now, and that perhaps they'd be able to spend the years together, all of them, together, happy, like they'd been so very briefly that first holiday season together.
However, for now, it would just be her and Barnes. And while she never would admit it, it felt good to have a friend, to have James Barnes as her friend.
A/N: This chapter was GARGANTUAN! But I hope it was a lot of fun to read. We got a little bit of serious, a little bit of funny, a little bit of silly, and yes, a WHOLE BIG DISNEY Mood. I hope you R&R, I look forward to seeing what you all think! Happy Reading!
