Misfortune (Bucky Barnes)

36• Misfortune

' I don't care if it was only a dream
It was all too real to let go
I don't care if it was only a dream
Because it's better than being alone '
-Zella Day, "Only A Dream"
~

I wish I could say that the kiss healed us both; erased the past and brought light to the future. I want to say it fixed things, that the god forsaken kiss fixed everything. But when Bucky Barnes left me in the greenhouse and time started up again, I realized that no matter how wonderful the moment was.. it wouldn't change things. But oh no, that definitely didn't stop me from pretending it would.

I went about the rest of the day, smiling like a fool and keeping the sweet moment to myself. I had a meeting with Tony about the mobility of my hand. He started on a project to electronically repair the nerves to give me my fingers back. I didn't know how to tell him that life without a finger to trigger a gun seemed good enough for me.

I'm sitting in the kitchen cutting slices of an apple with the sharp end of my dagger. My brain is replaying the moment I first met Bucky. A ghost, that's what he was to me. Or at least that's what it seemed at the time when I lost enough blood to believe that ghosts truly did exist. I always wondered why my instincts didn't take over, why I willingly let the man help me. But maybe that was my instincts after all, telling me that the ghost would mean more to me than I'd ever imagine.

I'm happy he let me in his apartment, and I'm happy I let him in my head. And that is the first time I can truly say that.

Steve joins me at the counter, shaking his head when I try to hand him a slice of the apple on the end of my knife. His hands are folded and his sweater is freshly pressed. Annoyingly so.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

I turn my attention to him letting my smile drop when I see his stern face.

"I take it you're going to be the bearer of bad news then?" I ask nonchalantly.

"Depends on how you view it," Steve responds holding out the palm of my hand in a sort of peace offering.

I typically wouldn't go fishing in people's brains for answers but I am desperate to know what will ruin my perfect day.

I slip my fingers into his hand, watching the room turn into something brighter. This time I don't feel Steve's feelings at all, I see them.

I see a large building sculpted into the side of a mountain. Grassy hills stretch on for miles, with goats causally grazing them. There are people with paint coating their dark skin, almost as if it is a tribe I am seeing. I see a black suit. A symbol of courage. The man behind the suit is a friend, someone with enough compassion to take something broken and fix it. I feel Steve's desperation just before I tug my hand away.

You know that moment when something good finally comes your way? You're scared to accept it, you're worried that any taste of happiness can be ripped away. This is the ripping, I know it before he even speaks the words. Bucky Barnes was never and never will be mine.

"What is that place, Steve?" I ask dropping the knife onto the table.

"Wakanda."

"And what do they want with Bucky?"

"They want to help him."