The Winter Ghost

Part 12

The several punching bags Bucky had mutilated last night lay in the corner of the gym, now collecting dust as he bandaged his bloody knuckles. He hadn't stopped thinking about you all night... Hadn't stopped thinking about the Winter Soldier who fired those three lethal shots into his mission's chest. The Soldier he once was, fighting the monster he knew he'd always be. They could take his trigger words, but they'd never erase the incoherent and disjointed memories of the gruesome acts he had so willingly performed.

He tried to piece together that fateful mission. How could he forget? He could still see the twisted look on the man's face as his eyes rolled back into his skull, falling off the bridge and into the murky water beneath him, slipping farther and farther from view. At the time, he remembered thinking how easy it would be to dive in after him. He wondered if he hit the water, would it kill him? Surly not. Most likely, he'd survive... But a guy could dream. Sinking deeper and deeper into the cold waters would be so peaceful. He almost did it. But the blood curdling screams from behind reminded him of the task at hand.

He forced himself to relive that moment, over and over until the ringing of bullets in his mind became melotic, trying desperately to remember her face. Every time, drawing a blank. His memory of her, nothing but a tangled mess of wires, too rusted and corroded to connect. A headache pounded behind his sleep deprived eyes, scolding him. But he couldn't stop.

How could he not remember your face. Or the sound of your heavy sobs as you crumbled into a hollowed out version of the woman he's now so fond of. You begged him, he remembered that. Your screams only to be washed out by the sound of his pistol. The drum of bullets used to be the only comfort to him, but now he would easily trade it for your laugh. The way you sigh, soft and smooth when he says something that makes you smile. The way your eyes crinkle when you're happy, or how your hair always falls in perfect ringlets around your face. He knows he shouldn't have let it get this bad, but it's too late now. You've ruined any other woman for him, and for that he was grateful. But now, as fast as you had stolen his every thought, you were gone.

Truly the better criminal.

He saw you, only in passing as you walked by the kitchen. Your eyes fell to his and he could see the hurt behind them. He wanted nothing more than to run to you, explain, apologise- but Nat stopped him before he could.

"Not like this, Barnes. Not like this." She solded. He knew she was right. If you were to ever be able to look at him again, he needed to give you space to breathe. But Bucky was at a loss.

With Steve away doing God knows what, he wasn't sure who to turn to. It had been over a week since he had exchanged words with his best friend and though he missed him, he also hated what he had done. Deep, deep down, Bucky knew he was trying to protect him, but that didn't dismiss the complete and utter mess he had made.

So there he sat, battered and panting on the gym floor as he tried to fight the urge to run to your room and beg for forgiveness that would never come. He knew it. Perhaps that was for the best. You deserved more than a ghost of who he once was.

..............................

Dirty plates and empty liquor bottles scattered your coffee table. You sat up, noticing Nat fast sleep on the small sofa in your room. Sam was sprawled on the floor with an old teddy bear Tom had won for you at Coney Island years back. He cradled in between his arms, soft snores slipping from beneath his lips.

You spent the rest of the night eating contraband snacks and watching some gorey action movie you picked to drown out your inner dialogue. It didn't really work, but Sam's earth shattering snores that came half way through the movie helped in its place. As you listen to his staggered breathing, you wonder about the girl you left behind all those days ago. The one who forgot everything, but your mind tormented you with the memory of. You wondered if there was still a piece of her hidden deep down inside of you, waiting to spring forth at any moment. She wasn't broken. At least not the way you are now and you wondered, only for a moment, if maybe you liked the pathetic person she was. If only because she had no recollection of her duty, her honour, and could run back into his arms and forgive him.