[The third spin off and fifth book in the "Leave Me Series"]
In which James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes is utterly alone in the 21st century.
Without Steve.
Without Ophelia.
This story will be based during the events before and during "The Falcon and th...
Bucky gripped the pen too tight, and it snapped in his grip.
Even his human arm was destructive.
Running his fingers through his short hair, Bucky took a deep breath. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his empty apartment, he was at a loss for... for everything. The only things in the scarce apartment were a mattress with a single sheet and thin blanket, and him. The place was the nicest he'd ever lived in, but void of everything. What was the point of filling it with things? With stuff? Material goods never meant much to Bucky, not in the last ninety years, at least.
The sun glittered in through the window, a window that was so fresh and clean – no weathered material here. The apartment felt like a place someone like him didn't deserve. A gentle beam of golden light made the few dust motes dance before his eyes, landing softly on the leather-bound journal before him. Three months since he left Wakanda – he couldn't stay after Ophelia died.
He promised her that he would get on with his life, and that was what he was doing. Since the pardon was announced, since he returned to America, he had been trying.
His phone rang then, and he remained stock still as the four incessant rings echoed in the empty apartment, the vibrations making it scuttle across the floor. When it stopped, he grabbed it and saw it was a missed call from Sam. He used to call once a week, now it was once a month. It was a just so much easier to ignore him than face him. He knew Sam and him had long ago come to terms with some things, but with Ophelia gone, the wedge that was once there seemed to come back.
It was dug a little bit deeper when Sam gave up the shield that Steve entrusted to him.
Glancing back at the notebook, he tore that last page out and threw it across the room. It landed with a gentle tap along with the other three. He used to be able to write for hours and hours. Now? Now writing down what he remembered didn't really matter. He trusted his head was clear of what HYDRA did to him. There were no more memories of O to write.
He had buried the journals with Ophelia's body. Had he been tempted to keep them? Absolutely. But looking at those memories would tear a hole inside of him that was barely being held together. No more reminiscing – he had to move on with his life.
He grabbed another pen and stared at the blank page. That was just it, he had a blank page. A blank slate. He could be whoever he wanted to be.
"Who the hell am I?" he muttered to himself.
He wasn't Bucky Barnes – not the one Steve was friends with. He wasn't the Winter Soldier. He wasn't Ophelia's Bucky because there was no Ophelia. Of all the versions of himself he had been, none of them properly encompassed who he had to be now. In the 21st century, devoid of a lover, devoid of friends.
But the list of those he had hurt, that...
"That's a long list," he said to no one in particular.
But he put the pen to the paper, feeling the ink saturate the page in one ugly blot. Then, he wrote. One name. Then another. Because he remembered all of them. The sunlight crept along the floor, slithering away from him, over the wall, then disappearing.
He put the journal down and sighed, running his hand over his face. Tugging at his features – still young, and yet, he was over a century old. He'd been given so many chances, so many opportunities to live. If he chose not to live now, if he chose to let the sadness consume him, then so many would be dead in vain, so many would be dead because of him.
He refused to let their deaths not matter.
He refused to let her death not matter.
Laying back against the floor, he watched the ceiling go from white, to grey, to black. Sleep danced with him, never quite giving in to his charm, his beckoning, his desire. He longed for sleep, and yet he was terrified of it. Because sleep, since Ophelia left, since he turned down the pills that Shuri offered, with sleep came the nightmares again.
He whispered to himself in the dark, "You'd be happy I'm talking to someone about it all, O. I think you'd be a little pissed at me that I haven't told Dr. Raynor about you, but I'm not ready for that yet."
He reached his arm around as if she would be there. Her perfect body with every beautiful imperfection making her who she was. The fullness, the warmth, the smile, the smell of her hair. When he imagined it, he could fall asleep. Just when he could feel her, just when his mind could fabricate her enough that he could almost trick himself into believing she was there... Just when her ghost was in his grasp again, that's when he would fall asleep.
Then the nightmares would trickle in.
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Hey lovely people, UnderMySkin here again.
I hope this book will bring some old readers back, because I love all of you. And to new readers, please make sure you've read the books in order.
Leave Me Bleeding
Leave Me Broken
Reminisce: Dear O
Ophelia
Leave Me Behind
After She Left
Please comment your thoughts - I am very excited about this book, and it's turning into more of a real book than I expected. It'll be in Bucky's POV both pre-TFATWS and during TFATWS.
