Chapter 32-Entetaining Car Talks

Beni:

First the hospital. Then Sam making plans for Christmas. And now my cousin, whom I haven't seen in years (Obviously) just calls out of the blue saying her son has a Christmas play that's going on later tonight. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Tonight. Yet another reason why I had always tried to avoid this cousin whenever we were kids.

She never could plan something correctly.

One time when we were seven we were at our aunt's house for the Fourth of July and she had lit the biggest fireworks in the pile (It had been as tall as us) before sticking it in the ground. I had tackled her to the ground right before it went up. We were both scorched, and she had nearly set Aunt Cherry's house on fire.

And the first thing that Reagan does is blame it on me. After that, I couldn't sit straight for a week.

When I told Bucky that story after she had called he started laughing his ass off, saying he was picturing me with little patches of hair for eyebrows. Or at least he tried. He was laughing really hard. I just sighed and rolled my eyes before smirking slightly.

"I haven't even told you where it is yet," I said. He instantly stopped laughing (It was kind of weird how he was able to just stop laughing) and looked at me. I couldn't tell what his expression was. It was something between curiosity, expectance, confusion, and not caring either way because he knew that I was going to drag him along with me

"Where's the play?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"New York. Which means we'll have to take the truck. I know where his school is, so it shouldn't be to hard to navigate, and if we leave in the next twenty minutes we'll be able to make it before it starts."

"New York? It's been a while since I've been there. I'll go get dressed."

He all but ran upstairs while I went to my room to get ready.

I quickly stripped out of my tank top, and couldn't help but look in disgust at my reflection in the full body mirror. My torso, minus my arms and face, was marred with scars. Some big, some small, some long, short, gun wound, knife wound, burns. You name it and I have a really good chance of having it.

I was a prisoner of war for months. Torture was bound to happen. But I had a feeling it was more for fun than just simply getting information. Every time I took a shower or looked in the mirror with my shirt off I was always, always reminded of the people that did this, and it practically drove me crazy. I didn't want to be reminded. I wanted to forget. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to avoid it all together.

I traced one of the long scars that had been made by a knife being dragged through me. It went from my sternum to just above my belly button in some crude zig-zag fashion. There was barely an inch of clear skin. So many months on the table...

I wasn't smiling anymore.

I let out a small yelp as my door was thrown open and momentarily forgot about my torso. It was Bucky in a pair of nice jeans, his dress shoes, and a black shirt that made all of his muscles pop out. His jacket was in his hands, and his face had gone from 'I need to ask you something fashion-wise' to 'complete horror and mortification.'

Meanwhile I was blushing fifty shades of red as he slowly walked in, keeping his eyes on my face. Such a gentleman.

"Beni..." he said, putting his jacket on my bed. "What...How?" He asked, completely flabbergasted. I quickly went to my closet and found a blue dress shirt and a pair of really sexy jeans. I started to put them on. I honestly didn't care if he saw my boxers, he's seen them before. I doubt it makes much of a difference.

"Just...In the car, okay? We need some interesting conversation for the ride, right?" I asked, completely dreading the long car ride now. Bucky, bless his heart, immediately just nodded and left, and I began the hunt for my black flats. Then I curled my hair and put it in a ponytail, completely ignored the make up, and made a duffel full of extra clothes. I would tell Bucky to do the same, because chances are we were going to get a motel room or something.

And then I walked out.

Bucky was waiting on the couch, and I threw his jacket at him and told him to go make an overnight bag. When he came back down and walked straight up to me.

"Do you think I should do something with my hair?" he asked, placing his metal hand on his head. His voice didn't give anything away. It was like he had never walked in on me changing. Like he had never laid eyes upon my scars. As if everything was as normal as everyday when in reality, we were way off the rails. I managed to muster up a smile and told him to sit.

Third Person:

Bucky glanced over at Beni, who was looking out the window. She wasn't wearing her usual smile. Instead she had pursed lips and a furrowed brow, as if she was considering how she should start out. Her eyes looked sad and angry instead of happy and lighthearted like nearly every day Bucky had known her.

But Bucky was going to give her the time she needed. She said she would tell him in the car, and Beni was always true to her word no matter how much she started to regret it. That's one of the things Bucky loved about her.

Thirty minutes in and Beni just sighed, looking from the window to her hands that were in her lap. Her fists closed, then opened, then closed again. She kicked off her shoes and managed to get cross legged without a lot of effort, and she held her ankles.

"The scars," she started hesitantly, "They were put there by a lot of different people. After...Well...I told you I lost my leg in an explosion."

"Yeah, a road side bomb," Bucky clarified, looking back at the road. Beni nodded.

"Once the bomb went off, we flipped over, and my leg got caught between the seat and the door, and it was completely useless. Couldn't move it even if it hadn't been stuck. And a little while later, these troops come in. They could have pried off the door with all the weird shit they had. But instead they broke the windshield and cut off my leg themselves.

"Then they dragged us, half conscious or still kicking but not strong enough, to some van or something. I don't really remember, I had been suffering from a concussion and blood loss at the time. Anyway, we were driven into some secret base that was no where near where the bomb had been. Not even close. And then they dragged us again, patched up the really bad wounds, like my leg, and locked us away from each other in the dark for...For months. That's how Tammy...She lasted the longest, and was one of the many that died on the table. And then all of a sudden I'm being dragged out of my cell and restrained to this big table. Then they started asking questions, and when I didn't answer they would hack into me..." her voice broke slightly, and she squeezed her ankles until her knuckles were white.

"I never did tell hem anything, and they knew I wouldn't have. After a while they just stopped asking the questions and went straight to the cutting..." Beni hugged herself tightly and looked out the window again.

"We all somehow managed to scrounge up enough supplies for me to make a really big bomb. Once we got everyone out of their cells, we made a run for it. I was using a piece of wood for a crutch as I was carrying Troy off the table. Once we were all far enough away we blew the place up. Then we just...Walked. For days, maybe weeks until a search copter found us all. There had been about fifty to sixty men and women that we got out. Most of us went to the infirmary, including myself, and that was pretty much it. I gave my report, got my leg patched up, and then I came here."

Bucky looked at Beni longer than he should have (Because he was the one driving), wondering how she was always able to smile and crack jokes when that was haunted her every time she looked in the fucking mirror. He looked back at the road just in time for a red light, and he heard her sniffle. Then she chuckled.

"I...I've always had a pretty shitty life, but I was an optimist at heart. I always found a reason to keep going, to keep smiling. But when we were heading back to camp, the only reason I smiled was because I forced myself to. I figured I could have always been off worse. I was still kicking, so I said, 'Smile, because you made it.' I told myself I was okay even though I knew I wasn't. It was just easier that way. And I want you to know that you're not the only one who still gets nightmares every time they so much as close their eyes. I smile all the time now because I found several reasons not to smile, and I figured that if I couldn't brighten up my day I could try and fake it. And then I met you, and I didn't have to fake it anymore."

"And I want you to know that you're not the only one who has had to gone through shit like that," Bucky said after a while. "And Beni, a wise friend once told me that...It's okay to not be okay. You wanna be sad? The be sad. I'll ride it out with you. And when you're finished being sad, I'll still be here. Okay?"

Beni was smiling as she wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, and she nodded. Bucky gave her one of his own smiles, and it was genuinely warm and caring, like a fucking ray of sunshine. She sniffled again.

"I...I'm with you 'till the end of the line," he said. He knew he had said it before, and Steve had told him that when he as beating the shit out of him all those months ago, and it felt just as right saying it to Beni as it did when he said it to Steve.

"Always," Beni said. That was her promise. He didn't need her to elaborate. The one word was enough. He would always have her back and she would always have his.

They would be with each other, through thick and thin, until the end of the line.