They lay back in the grass after finishing the picnic, the horses grazing quietly nearby, the sun slanting low through the trees. Charlie rested her head on Bucky's shoulder, one hand draped across his chest, and he didn't move—not even to breathe too deeply. He didn't want to risk breaking the fragile peace blooming between them.
The breeze carried the smell of wildflowers and warm earth. A hawk circled far above them, gliding lazy loops across a watercolor sky. For a while, neither of them spoke. She just played with the edge of his shirt where it met his jeans, fingers idly brushing his side. His body wanted to respond to that—to every little absent-minded touch—but his mind was still half-trapped in the way her face had gone blank just an hour ago. That flicker. That absence.
He didn't like it.
He'd seen too much of it in himself.
And yet, she was here now. She looked peaceful again, like maybe being out here had steadied something in her. That, or she was pretending for his sake. He couldn't tell.
"I like it here," she said after a while, voice low. "I forget that sometimes."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's just… when I'm in the house, it feels like I'm waiting for something that never comes. Out here, it's quieter. Like maybe everything could be okay."
He swallowed. "You ever think about leaving?"
She turned her face toward him. "The house?"
"Louisiana."
She tilted her head back down, looking up at the treetops. "Sometimes. I used to dream about running off to Europe or something. Living in some art gallery loft with cracked windows and bad plumbing." She smiled. "But then I think about this place and how it's all I have left. It's stupid, but… it feels like if I go, I'm abandoning them."
Bucky didn't answer right away. He reached for her hand instead and laced their fingers together. She didn't pull away.
Just then, his phone buzzed.
He started to ignore it, but something about the timing made him curious. He fished it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Sam.
Charlie sat up slightly when she saw him looking at it. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Bucky said, though his brow furrowed. "Give me a sec."
He stood and walked a few paces toward the treeline for privacy, not that Charlie looked like she was trying to listen. She lay back in the grass again, eyes closed, her lips parted just slightly like she was finally allowing herself to rest.
Bucky hit answer.
"What's up?" he murmured.
"You guys still in the swamp, Barnes?" Sam asked.
"Still in the field, yeah. What's goin' on?"
"I've got an invite to some benefit gala in the city next weekend. Whole Avengers vibe—clean suits, cameras, shaking hands, fake smiles. One of those."
Bucky smirked faintly. "Sounds like your scene."
"Shut up. I'm just sayin', you should come. Bring her."
Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Charlie. "I don't know if she—"
"Might be good for her," Sam interrupted, his tone serious now. "Just for a little bit. Get her out of that house. Fresh air. Different kind of people. You feel me?"
Yeah. He did.
He nodded to himself. "When is it?"
"Saturday. Gives you a few days. You coming?"
"I'll talk to her."
"Let me know. And Buck—"
"Yeah?"
"Keep your eyes open."
The line clicked dead.
Bucky lowered the phone slowly. The breeze had shifted, and the field didn't feel quite as warm anymore.
When he returned to the blanket, Charlie sat up, brushing loose grass from her sweater. She looked at him with a raised brow. "Everything alright?"
He dropped beside her and leaned back on his elbows, casual on the outside.
"That was Sam. He wants me to come to some benefit gala in New York."
"Are you going?"
"Only if you come with me."
Charlie blinked, caught off-guard. "What?"
"I think we could both use a change of scenery," Bucky said, choosing his words carefully. "Just for a few days. You've got time off, right?"
She hesitated. "Yeah, but—"
"You said it yourself—you feel stuck in that house. You said being out here helps. So maybe being even farther away could help more."
Charlie looked down at the blanket. Her fingers started picking at the corner.
"I don't want to run away."
"I'm not asking you to run," he said gently. "I'm asking you to come with me. Let's go see something new. Let's get dressed up, pretend we're not haunted for one night."
She let out a laugh, but it cracked a little at the end. "That's kind of depressing, Buck."
"Yeah, but you smiled."
Charlie shook her head, still smiling softly. "I have to think about it."
He nodded. "Okay."
But in his gut, Bucky already knew he'd do everything in his power to get her out of that house before whatever was coming caught up to her.
The sun was beginning to slip lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the bayou as Charlie and Bucky stepped back into the cool shade of the wraparound porch. The horses had been stabled, the picnic basket forgotten somewhere near the kitchen door, and Charlie was still flushed from the ride, her curls sticking to her temples. Bucky carried her helmet under one arm, his other resting gently on the small of her back as they made their way inside.
He held the door open for her.
She stepped into the front hall, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light inside. The comforting scent of lemon and sage drifted in from the kitchen—Louisa's doing, no doubt.
Charlie gave a small smile. "Guess she's been busy."
"She never misses a beat," Bucky muttered under his breath.
Charlie raised an eyebrow at his tone, but before she could ask, Louisa emerged from the hallway with a dish towel in hand. She was dressed impeccably, as always—crisp linen blouse, hair pinned back in its usual elegant twist. There was no sign of her flight or any travel fatigue. If anything, she looked like she'd been here all day.
"You're back," she said, eyes scanning over them like a scanner. "And in one piece. That's a relief."
"Hey, Louisa," Charlie said brightly. "Did you find everything okay when you got in?"
"Of course," she replied. "The house was just as I left it. Though I did notice a few windows were unlocked."
Charlie blinked. "Oh. That was probably me. I aired things out yesterday."
Louisa nodded slowly. "I see."
Bucky didn't say anything, just watched the older woman with a stillness that wasn't quite relaxed. He'd felt something all day—something gnawing at him, even under the warmth of Charlie's smile. The man at the club, the movement in the woods, the memory glitches. All of it pointed somewhere. And Louisa… she set off every alarm.
"We had a good ride," Charlie said, trying to shake off the weird static in the air. "Went to that field near the south bend. Still full of wildflowers."
Louisa glanced at the faint sunburn on Charlie's cheek. "A bit too much sun, perhaps."
Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly.
"We brought sunscreen," Charlie replied. "We weren't out that long."
Louisa gave a small, practiced smile. "Well, as long as you're feeling alright."
"I am," Charlie said, then paused, glancing toward Bucky before continuing. "Actually… we wanted to talk to you."
Louisa tilted her head, one brow arching slightly. "Oh?"
"Sam called while we were out. There's a benefit gala in New York next weekend. Bucky's been invited—and he invited me to come."
Louisa's expression didn't shift immediately, but Bucky saw it—the slight tightening of her jaw, the almost imperceptible lift in her chin.
"I see," she said after a moment.
Charlie kept her voice casual. "It's just a few days. I've never been out of the state, and I've got time saved up from work. I think… it might be good. A change of scenery."
Louisa folded the dish towel over one arm. "And you're sure that's wise?"
Charlie frowned. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"You haven't been well lately, dear," Louisa said, her tone gentle but firm. "The headaches. The forgetfulness. That incident with the stove last month—"
"I just forgot to turn the burner off," Charlie said, her smile fading.
"And you told me yesterday you had another one of your… blank spells."
Charlie's mouth opened, then closed again.
Bucky's body went rigid beside her. Yesterday?
Charlie hadn't told Louisa anything. Not about the field. Not about the memory glitch.
"Louisa," Charlie said slowly, "how would you know about yesterday?"
There was a pause. A small one. But long enough.
"I meant the one you had last week," Louisa corrected smoothly. "Perhaps I misspoke."
Bucky felt something sharp twist in his gut.
Charlie didn't press. She just shook her head a little. "I'm going. I want to."
"I understand your excitement," Louisa said. "But New York is overwhelming even on the best days. Crowds, lights, noise. You've always said it would give you migraines."
"That was before."
"Before what?"
"Before I started feeling like I was losing my mind in my own house," Charlie snapped, then caught herself, stepping back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
Bucky's voice was low. "She needs a break. It's just a weekend."
Louisa looked at him. "And what do you know about what she needs?"
More than you think, he wanted to say. But he held her gaze instead, cool and steady.
"You can't watch her all the time," she added, softer. "What happens if she wakes up in the middle of the night and doesn't know where she is? What if she panics? Who will she call?"
"Is that why you left her alone for a week? I'll be there," Bucky said, voice quiet but hard.
Louisa's smile was razor-thin. "Of course you will."
Charlie stepped between them before the temperature could drop further. "I'm going," she said again, more to herself this time. "We're going. Just a few days."
Louisa gave a stiff nod. "I'll make sure your bag is packed properly."
"No," Charlie said gently. "I'll do it."
That was new. Bucky felt the shift. Louisa did too.
"Very well," Louisa said. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes."
She turned and walked toward the kitchen, heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.
As soon as she was out of sight, Charlie sagged against the wall with a sigh.
"Well. That went better in my head."
Bucky stepped close, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She looked up at him. "Are you?"
"I don't trust her," he said simply.
"I know."
She looked down, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "She's been with my family since I was a kid. I don't want to think badly of her, Buck."
"Then don't," he murmured. "Let me do that part."
Charlie blinked up at him, something like gratitude flickering behind her eyes. She didn't speak. Just nodded.
And Bucky thought—New York can't come soon enough.
Charlie stood in her bedroom, suitcase sprawled open on the bed. Bucky sat in the corner chair reading a book, watching as she stared down at a drawer full of summer dresses like it held the answer to all her problems.
"I don't even know what people wear to galas," she muttered.
Bucky smirked. "Fancy stuff. Shiny shoes. Probably a tux."
"God, you're no help."
"I have a tux back in New York."
"That's because you're used to this kind of thing. Avengers and all."
Bucky shrugged. "I usually duck out early."
She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. "You won't this time, right?"
Something about the question softened him. "Not if you're there."
Charlie flushed and turned quickly back to her drawer. "I'll bring the black dress. I wore it to my cousin's wedding."
"Good choice," he said, voice low.
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Help me find the garment bag?"
They moved together through her closet, shoulder to shoulder, not quite brushing. His hand covered hers once when they reached for the same hanger, and neither of them moved for a beat.
"I've got it," she whispered.
He didn't let go right away.
The clock in the hall struck midnight.
Downstairs, Louisa stood in the pantry, her cell phone pressed to her ear. The door was closed, the house silent above her.
"They're leaving for New York at the end of the week," she whispered.
A pause.
"Yes. He's taking her. Barnes."
She listened. Her mouth pressed into a thin line.
"No. She hasn't remembered anything yet. But the proximity's speeding things up. She had another glitch today."
Another long silence.
"Yes, sir. I'll be watching."
She ended the call, slipped the phone back into her apron, and returned to the kitchen.
