[ hiatus ] 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 ━ 𝐁.𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒

𝐱𝐢𝐯.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘

༻ ❁ ༺

  
November 18, 1943

          RIGHT NOW, Alice wasn't meant to be working. The majority of the night had been spent in surgery. Matron had tucked her in and told her to rest until lunchtime.

She couldn't resist checking on Bucky first. She wanted to see him, touch him. Know that he was really back. Really safe. She slipped quietly through the back of the tent.

Her heart lightened at the sight of him.

His hands were resting on the scratchy green blanket as he sat up in bed. He appeared to be in much better shape than when he initially returned.

She had worried that Gwen's three days' bed rest wouldn't be enough, but he was recovering remarkably well.

As he watched the front entrance to the hospital, she had a perfect view of his profile. His cheek bruise had almost totally healed. She wondered if Steve had just walked out the door or if he was still waiting for someone.

Then he shifted his gaze to his hands, which were resting in his lap. His face was gloomy and threatening. His jaw was clenched.

She hurried to his side. "What's wrong? You look upset. Gwen said you were fine, but if something hurts I can get the doctor."

"No. Nothing like that." Bucky caught her hand and pulled her closer to his cot. "Sit with me for a second."

Alice perched herself on the edge of the cot, cradling his hand between both of hers.

The silence lingered for long seconds, Alice growing more anxious the longer it went on. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm going." He stroked her knuckles with his thumb. He wished he could spend more time here. Alternatively, he may take her with him. Take her home, if possible.

To him, she was warm, bright, and the ideal reminder that there was good in the world and that they needed to fight to protect it. He would not allow anything to put his Alice in danger.

"Of course, you are. You were captured. It was weeks— " Alice's voice cracked. She couldn't say it. Couldn't even think about it. "They have to let you go home. You've done your bit."

Bucky shook his head. "I'm not going home. I'm going with Steve."

One of the surgery's lights had previously short-circuited. In an attempt to repair the wire, Alice had brushed her finger against it. That's exactly how it felt. Panic on an electric scale. She was unable to move or even think.