we're only getting older || Bucky Barnes || ✔️

Part 6

The first thing that hit him was the distinctly "old person" smell and the drab coloring of the walls and décor. Then the giant white hospital bed and the dim lighting with the small window that was opened just a crack.

Rebecca hated staying indoors. She always played out on the road with the other kids or danced with the music playing from a nearby radio. She was always full of fire, ready to move and light up anywhere she walked.

Her fiery attitude had gotten her into some tight spots before, but nothing she couldn't handle. She was brilliant and quick-witted and snarky and energetic and...

Not this...

Not this impoverished, shrunken shell of what she once was. Sitting up in her bed, Becca was propped up using an immeasurable amount of pillows. She had wires coming from all over her, IV tubes and monitors. Her sunken eyes and pale complexion gave no sign of life. It was a woman barely hanging on.

Not this.

He walked over to her right-hand side, avoiding the many machines that were hooked up to her that monitored her breathing and heart.

It was always others that initiated contact with him. He used to be very touchy feely, throwing his arm over his commandos' shoulders, grabbing a willing gal by the hand and leading her into a dance, but now, every touch had him planning a way out.

But Becca was right there. She couldn't reach out to him, so he had to be the one to reach her.

Cautiously, he scooped her hand into his, taking a seat on the chair that was conveniently placed by her bedside.

Her hand was cold. Almost too cold. Bucky felt like he was stepping into the Freezer.

"Rebecca," he said, his voice sounding hoarse. "It's me. It's Bucky."

She didn't respond and Bucky didn't expect her too.

"These past years without my family have been... hard. I know it's been hard for you too. Some days I remember better than others and somedays it's like all the progress I made before disappeared just like that. I would tell you to keep fighting, but you do plenty of that on your own without anyone telling you."

From the moment he had held her hand, his eyes had barely lifted to look at her face. He couldn't bear to look at the face he remembered so differently. Rather, he focused on the small hand in his. It had a beautiful wedding band on the ring finger and age spots in a couple of places. Overall, it was well kept, cut and polished, probably because Beth was taking care of her.

Bucky chuckled, the first real laugh he had in a while. "I remember when we went to Coney Island when we were twelve years old, I think you were probably ten or eleven. Bella and Beth didn't want to ride the Cyclone, but you insisted on coming with me and Steve. But then when we got to the ride, you were too short and they wouldn't let you on."

He shook his head, the fond memories coming ever so clearly. "So of course you followed Steve's dumb advice and stuck newspapers in your shoes to make yourself taller. And of course the poor kid manning the ride still wouldn't let you on, but then you started throwing a fit right in the middle of the ride with all these people waiting in line until he finally let you on, grumbling about how you were gonna start crying like a little girl when you got off."

"But when you got off the ride," Bucky smiled, "you were completely fine, shouting about how you were ready to go again, but Steve on the other hand—"

"—Steve threw up."

His face shot up to meet her hers, his eyes widening in shock. She spoke to him. Rebecca had spoken to him.