"In a time of deceit telling the truth is a revolutionary act."
-George Orwell
Bucky woke up with his neck feeling cramped and his sides hurting. Beside him, Clara was sleeping deeply and sunlight was beginning to stream through the windows, if a bit weakly, as it was still dawn. He didn't understand how he'd fallen asleep so unguarded in an uncomfortable position. Even more so, he didn't understand how he fell asleep reading. And sadly, he wouldn't be going on a jog that morning.
Though most importantly, he wasn't woken up early from a nightmare. He'd sleep peacefully the entire time, despite the cramped up sleeping positionーit was something he'd gotten used to after HYDRAーbut now that he had a bed to call his own, sleeping against a wall was uncomfortable again.
Bucky looked back over to where Clara was sleeping and decided it would be nice to make a breakfast for her to wake up to. It wouldn't be anything fancy, as he didn't have a whole lot of food around, but he could at least make a bowl of cereal for her.
"Clara," Bucky said, shaking her as gently as possible.
Clara shifted a little and mumbled something.
"Clara," Bucky repeated, this time louder.
Clara finally opened her eyes slightly then cringed away from the harsh sun beaming through the window. Bucky was stricken by the realization that her eyes weren't brown and were actually hazel. She looked him in the eyes temporality, seeming surprised at his presence.
"Why don't you have blinds?" Clara asked. That was not what Bucky was expecting for her to say.
He backed away from her. "Don't need them."
"But newspapers are necessary to cover the windows?"
Bucky smiled. "I guess not. At least there's some privacy that comes from it. By the way, I made breakfast. I didn't have much so it's only cereal."
Clara struggled to sit up the best she could and made a face of pain with one arm temporarily out of commission. "I don't know how I'm going to eat cereal."
"I can help you get up to the table, you know."
"Okay."
Bucky watched as Clara blinked the sleep out of her eyes and cautiously sat up. She seemed to be fairly shaky, which was normal for the amount of blood she'd lost. Bucky held out his flesh hand for her to balance herself which she took with a death-grip as he helped her walk to the table. It wasn't a long walk as his apartment wasn't exactly the largest place (not to mention the bed was right across from the makeshift table).
Bucky put the cereal down in front of her and sat down across from her, also placing a bowl down for himself. "How are you feeling?" He asked.
Clara froze up for a moment, which he considered odd. Normally she'd fire a response back right away. "Fine."
"Does your shoulder still hurt?"
"Yeah, it not as bad as yesterday though," she explained.
Bucky took a look at her shoulder and realized there was blood covering her dark shirt that he wasn't able to see in the evening lightーor he'd forgotten about it after all that had happened. He couldn't remember. The gauze surrounding the wound also needed to be changed, otherwise she'd get an infection.
"You're going to have to change your shirt, and the gauze too."
Clara's eyes widened as she had apparently just realized that he'd need to take off her shirt in order to dress the shot. That, and he'd done it earlier in order to save her.
"After I'm done eating?" She asked quietly.
Bucky nodded and ate his breakfast too. The apartment felt empty with the near-silent atmosphere. There was only the sound of birds and cars on roads blocks away. Clara didn't even start chatting as she would normally do, instead she looked rather sullen and poked around at her cereal with her non-injured hand.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Bucky finally asked after a long period of silence.
"As fine as I could be with a hole in my shoulder. Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"
"Why would you be asking me that?"
"Never mind," Clara refuted.
Why wouldn't he be okay? Aside from insomnia, he should appear perfectly fine to Clara. She didn't know a thing about what he'd been through, so why would she ask such a question? Even after taking out the HYDRA members the previous day, he felt fineーit wasn't like they had injured him.
"I'm finished eating now," Clara stated, bringing Bucky's attention back to reality. He collected the bowls and placed them by the sink and then grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard.
Clara looked tense for what seemed like the first time, even after the whole Anton situation. Being shot definitely must have affected her more than she'd care to admit; she didn't even pull the smiles she graced him with often. Then again, that was pretty normal considering she wasn't used to being shot at or dealing with stalkers that wanted you dead. Hell, even he wasn't used to it and it'd been the entirety of his life for seventy years.
Bucky grabbed the gauze from the kit and watched as Clara stood up slowly.
Clara watched carefully as James gathered up the gauze and pulled out hydrogen peroxide and a few swabs. Immediately, Clara could tell that this was going to hurt like a bitch. Just the act of moving her arm was enough to cause significant pain, let alone lifting up her arm to take off her shirt. She almost blushed at the thought, but willed herself not to. It wasn't that he was going to clean it then, it was more about the fact that he'd done it once while she was unconscious.
Lifting up her shirt was a struggle. She'd gotten her arm through the first sleeve, but taking it off of her head and other arm was more of a challenge.
"Here," James said, helping her out of the shirt.
When Clara finally had it off, she found herself being thankful that she still had her sports bra on. At least it was less revealing.
James had his back turned to her. She tossed her shirt on the bed while sitting back down on the chair. Her shoulder felt as though it was tearing in half and would fall off. To put it plainly, it still hurt a lot more than she let on.
James came back over and inspected the bandage over her shoulder. Bits of blood had bled through all the way, indicating the wound needed to be changed or she'd be faced with an infection and she couldn't go to the hospital.
He started to peel away the gauze, which only caused further pain. Clara tried not to make a sound or move, but it was quite difficult. She didn't want to look at the wound. Not because she was afraid of blood, but because she didn't want to see how deep it had gone. Obviously James had stitched it up, but it just bothered her immensely.
James hesitated for a moment. "I need to clean it with some hydrogen peroxide, okay? It's going to sting."
Clara nodded.
"You should be glad there was an exit wound, because I wouldn't know how to dig up the bullet. Stitching it up was easy enough," he elaborated as he poured the peroxide onto a swab.
Clara listened to his deep breathing as he began to gently clean her shoulder up. It didn't sting at first. James just calmly wiped away the dried blood as he neared the wound. Clara hissed in pain at the stinging sensation; she'd had her fair share of injuries at the gym, but this one had to take the winning prize for being the most painful. Then, without warning, James put the peroxide directly over her cut on the side where it exited, and she had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying out in pain.
"Almost done," he encouraged her, still deftly swiping away at the backside. "Just the front side left now."
Clara blinked her eyes rapidly to keep any tears from forming. "Okay."
James moved around to her other side and she eyed his gloved hand, remembering who she was dealing with. How could someone who did such terrible things have such a gentle touch? Yet another reason why she couldn't believe the whole Winter Soldier thing. Killing people just seemed so ruthless and out of character for who he was, especially around her. But then again, that could all be a rouse.
He brushed over the front side, and this time it didn't hurt as much. James backed away a bit to make sure that her shoulder seemed fine, but then he glanced to Clara's side. She followed his gaze to her torso in curiosity before realizing what he was looking at.
He traced over the bit of skin where she had a scar. James seemed fascinated by her scar that was covered with a tattoo of a flower, it was a drawing she had done by herself and had asked to be tattooed on her. It brought some peace to the memory of how she got the scar, but as James traced it, Clara felt goosebumps cover her skin and she nearly shivered. The sensation of his fingers running down her abdomen was thrilling, yet at the same time she couldn't help but be brought back to the terrible events that had caused the scarring; the event that had changed her life permanently.
"How'd you get this?" He asked quietly.
"I... Don't want to talk about that right now. Not after yesterday," She said. And so they continued on their cycle of dodging questions and never pressing each other for more information.
James withdrew from her personal space and Clara found herself missing his presence. His face had a strong jaw, she noted. He also had brilliant blue eyes and stubble that fit his face nicely. She definitely hadn't looked at James in that light until that incredibly intimate moment they had just shared.
She couldn't let herself get that close to him, couldn't tell him about herself while she had yet to figure out anything about the Winter Soldier. For all she knew, he could still be out killing people, however, it seemed unlikely. Clara had to keep the possibility that James was actually a murderer in mind.
She knew one thing about him almost for sure. He had no intention of harming her, not after how much he'd helped her.
So she devised a plan; see how many hints she could drop before James got suspicious enough and brought the subject up himself.
After he'd temporarily lost control of himself and curiosity got the better of him, he didn't say a word to Clara for a while. Not until she asked him to go get a fresh shirt for herーshe could barely walk without assistanceーotherwise, she'd do it herself.
So again Bucky was sent to Clara's apartment. This time, he knew that he couldn't take long, but he had to see if the flowers drawn on that letter were the same as the ones tattooed onto her torso.
He quickly dug through the dresser in the corner that seemed to be falling apart and took the first shirt he found. It was a baggy black t-shirt with no design, so he was sure Clara wouldn't mind. Not that he knew a whole lot about fashion in the 20th century, but he'd observed enough to fit in. It was just that style had changed drastically for women while the concept for men was still somewhat the same if a bit less formal.
Bucky then went to Clara's side table and picked up the letter, inspecting the flowers drawn on to it. They were the exact same ones; daisies that were drawn in a sketch-like fashion while still being a nice drawing to look at. It reminded Bucky of some of the sketches Steve had shown him once upon a time. Sometimes Steve would even sketch Bucky and then Bucky would always laugh at how Steve had messed up some minuscule detail then insist it was still a good drawing.
But what Bucky really wanted to know was what the flowers meant. And what did the letter mean?
Bucky brought Clara back a shirt and helped her into it. It was going to be a long week for them both with Clara being wholly dependent on him to help her while she was still shaky. At some point, he'd have to help her back into her place again.
Clara had finally been moved back to her place again, but that didn't mean she was independent. Bucky had to make her dinner as well as help her move around some places. It was even silently agreed that they'd stick together after the HYDRA incident. This time, Clara had told him to stay over and read again.
In her exact words: "Can you read to me again, I really liked it. But this time, we're not going to read the encyclopaedia because we both don't need to fall asleep yet."
And so Bucky read a book to her and then she began to teach him how to use her phone. It wasn't complicated, there was just so much to remember and so much information presented to him at one time. The concept of texting and phoning was easy; he already knew about those. The Internet was a bit more abstract, but still easy enough. Clara told him about social media, and that was when it was a bit out of his understanding.
But oddly, she'd made a weird comment. "I can understand why you don't get it," and she didn't say anything else further.
He wasn't stupid, this was the second time she'd said something of the nature. She'd also asked if he was okayーwhich hadn't made any sense at the time.
Two days later and she was still acting oddly. Not in the sense that her personality had changed, as she was back to her peppy self, but she kept asking or saying strange things to which he didn't understand the implications.
But one time, that same evening, he'd almost panicked.
"Isn't it strange how HYDRA started to follow me only days after I met you?" She had asked aloud as they were individually doing their own things. Clara was on her phone while he was reading the encyclopaedia again. He looked up to meet her eyes and only received an expectant look, one he didn't know how to answer. Of course, he wasn't just going to tell her that he was the Winter Soldier, that would've had a terrible outcome.
Instead, Bucky nodded. He pretended that he believed it was all one crazy coincidence because there was no way she'd come up with the conclusion he was the Winter Soldier.
It was four days after Clara had been shot and she was better about being independent. She didn't need his help to stand up anymore nor did she need him to help her get her shirt off. (Even if she still needed him for cleaning the wound).
Clara made comments on his cooking, often complimenting how much she liked the food. It was like she was surprised he could actually cook, and he didn't know why that would be so surprising. But Clara especially liked it when he read for her. She had an abundance of free time and was always excited for Bucky to come homeーhome meaning either of their placesーafter working.
"Can't you start up a hobby or something?" He'd asked her as she stared up at the ceiling in boredom.
"I'd love to but I don't have a computer and my dominant hand doesn't exactly work. Boxing was my hobby, and always will be. But seeing as how that's not an option currently, I probably can't start a hobby."
"What about listening to radio or music?" Bucky asked.
"Radio? What is this, the 1930's? The only time I've listened to radio is in the car," Clara told him, shifting to sit up on her couch. It looked as though that was still painful for her to do.
"You can't listen to radio on your phone?"
"Well yeah, but I've never done it before."
"So then try it," Bucky suggested. He missed hearing the news announced from a staticky radio and an over-enthusiastic newscaster. Compared to some of the TV in the 20th century, radio was pretty unimpressive but at least it felt familiar. Even with the constant ads.
Clara put on a news station and sat back on the couch relaxing while Bucky put down the encyclopedia to focus in on the news. He hadn't been paying much attention to what was going on in the world, aside from some Romanian news he'd overhear.
He only half paid attention when they had a bit on soccer, as he didn't really pay attention to the sport. He didn't even care too much when there was some discussions about the EU. He only perked his head up once they began to mention the main story of the day.
"The team of Avengers were spotted earlier today in Brazil as they appeared to be undertaking some mission they haven't let a statement out about. So far there is no known damage to be reported on, but it begs the question: why are they there? Some people were able to take photos of Captain America as he instructed the team before they disappeared."
Bucky allowed himself to relax. Whatever they were doing, it was far from his trail. He didn't need to be mixed up in the spotlight again; certainly not when HYDRA was still kicking around.
"So, would you ever introduce me to Steve if you had the chance? I heard he's really friendly," Clara said in a cheerful voice that didn't seem cheery at all.
Bucky tensed up. She was just joking, right?
"James, or should I say 'Bucky,' I've known who you are for a while. I didn't want to say anything because... I don't know why I didn't say, but at first, I was terrified of HYDRA coming for me and I thought you were a part of them. Then I realized that would make no sense. I don't know who you are, but I know one thing for sure. You're not actually HYDRA. They don't have a track record of being nice to people."
"But you know what I've done?"
"Yeah, and I feel like an explanation is in order before I start making more assumption than I already have."
And that was the moment Bucky knew Clara was someone special.
AN: Oh boy, poor Bucky has to come clean now. And Clara will have to at some point too ;) she was a little pushy this chapter, but I think that's okay given she was just shot and her friend is apparently an assassin.
Next chapter is a lot of explanations and a lot of sad stuff :( it's like hurt/comfort, fluff, and angst mixed into one big chapter.
Thanks to inperfection and Marylikesroses for reviewing, it means a lot!
