Winter & Summer: A Marvel Story in an Alternate Universe!

Chapter 21

"She won't talk to me, Sam," Bucky said, arms crossed as he leaned against a table upon which screws, wires and a mixed assortment of tools lay scattered. A single lamplight shined over the adjacent table, where Sam stood hunched over, making some repairs to Redwing.

Sam, not quite making eye contact with his friend, simply outstretched his arm. "Hand me the three quarters," he said.

Bucky tilted his head to the side, eyes skimming the compartments of the bright red toolbox. Finding the metal wrench, he picked it up and lightly tossed it to Sam.

He missed. The wrench fell and rattled on the floor.

"Come on, man..." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sorry," Bucky sighed, returning to his navel gazing, steering back to the previous subject. "I call, I text - nothing. I mean, as a coworker, that's pretty unprofessional, don't you think?"

Sam looked up. "Well, as a coworker, do you really need to be talking to her?"

"Okay. Maybe not as a coworker," Bucky replied. "But as a friend."

"As a friend," Sam repeated, turning his attention back to Redwing, "honestly, Bucky, you kind of broke her trust."

Bucky simply stared off again, pondering it all.

And Sam continued, "If she doesn't want to talk to you, I say you respect her boundaries."

"But I don't like this," Bucky retorted. "This...cutting off completely from each other like...like nothing ever happened between us...like everything we've been through together didn't matter..."

"Buck," Sam interrupted, with his firm, fatherly, Captain America tone taking over, "can I stop you for a second?"

So Bucky stopped, swallowing as he braced himself for what Sam was going to say next.

"The last time I checked, you were the one who said you didn't want to work with Summer anymore, and now that you're not working with her anymore, you're complainin'. Am I wrong?"

Guilty, Bucky dropped his head and nodded. "No, no, you're right..."

"Look, Bucky, if I may be frank - I think you have some complicated feelings that you need to sort out before you even think about reaching out to Summer again."

Bucky was silent for a minute, lips slightly parted, unsure how to respond - until he finally shrugged and said, "I don't know how I feel, Sam."

"Well," Sam replied, hunching over Redwing again, "That's something you're going to need to figure out yourself." He took one last metal panel and laid it over Redwing's open wiring, tightening the final screw, repairs all done.

"That being said, until you've figured it out..." Sam pointed his index finger squarely at Bucky. "Don't call her."

Bucky pouted. "What about text her?"

"Don't."

...

Summer fumbled her keys as she attempted to unlock the door to her apartment. The lock seemed a bit jammed today, but using a bit of force, she successfully made it inside, glad to be home after a tiring assignment, and longing to trade her beloved yellow suit for some cozy pajamas. Undoing her ponytail, she slipped the hair tie onto her wrist and ruffled her silky black locks with her fingers.

Turning toward the living room, she stopped when she noticed something strange - the soft blue light from the TV glowing against the room's opposite wall, as playful sound effects from a mindless cartoon softly murmured through the speakers. Suddenly alerted, she tied her ponytail back on and tiptoed forward.

But the living room was empty, devoid of any sign that anyone had been there aside from the flashing TV. Summer figured, perhaps she had just left it on the whole day. She picked the remote off the coffee table and aimed it at the screen.

Then, she felt a large hand wrap around her face...

And her world turned black.