Necessary Good, Unnecessary Evil | No rest For Wounded Souls [Bucky Barnes]

Two Pounds

"The past is never where you think you left it."
-Katherine Anne Porter

****

Bucky's POV

"It's me, I don't think I'll be home yet, but I should be there in an hour. I just wanted to let you know, bye." Nova's recorded voice says. I put down the phone, returning my focus to my thoughts.
I don't know how long I have been here, trying to force myself to remember.
I sit on the wooden floor, in the same spot where I stood in my dream.
Even if my mind can't seem to recall that night, it's not that hard to tell how it went. 
It's pure logic. Nova said it was just her and her mother that night. If I was there, the woman I'm aiming at in my nightmare... is Amanda.
I pick up my phone again, feeling it vibrate against my thigh. "Uh, it's me, again. Sorry, I don't want to pester you. It took a few hours, but I'm heading back home now. Are you still coming over?" Nova has left another message, and I listen to her voice, my stomach turning upside down.
I killed Amanda.
I take a deep breath, trying to avoid a panic attack. 
Window, fireplace, an old photo frame on the floor.
My focus keeps drifting away while I try to keep it on the space around me.

The light coming from the street helps me see what's around me, and I try to focus on any detail I can catch.
How am I going to tell her?
My feet start moving, and I find myself in a room with a single bed pushed against the wall.
An older poster is still hanging on the wall, and I slowly walk around the room, stopping next to the bed.
This must have been Nova's room.
I turn around, feeling a plank lifting under my foot. I step back, kneeling down.
My metal hand lifts it, and I use the flashlight on my phone to look inside.
I find an old metal box with some stickers on it, and I grab it, brushing off the dust on top.
"Hey, I know I already called twice, but I just want to know if you're ok. I just got home. Tony insisted on taking me to the ER. I'm fine. I just miss you." I sigh, listening to the last voicemail, looking inside.

A bunch of pictures and other items are stored in the box.
I grab a photo, recognizing Nova's smile, and my lips curve up looking at her.
She was still pretty young, wearing a straw hat on her head and a purple backpack hanging off her shoulder while she smiled at the camera.
I flip the photo, reading the handwritten note on the back. "Nova, summer 2004. Chioma, Italy."
This is from her first year in Italy, five years before Hydra.
I leave the photo in the box, close it, and sit on the bed.
My phone vibrates again. This time I almost pick up. But my hand freezes over the screen, letting the call end again.
I glance at the time, noticing it's almost 1 AM, and my breath hitches. Nova is calling me at this time, maybe because something happened.
I let it go to voicemail again. "Hey, it's me. I tried to wait, but I fell asleep watching Netflix with Wanda. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this, lyublyu tebya." She sighs, her voice sleepy.
Her two last sentences hit me directly in my stomach, and I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

****

My alarm goes off, and I sigh, getting out of bed.
I haven't gotten any sleep, and it's starting to weigh on me.
Steve walks out of his room, his eyes still half-closed as he drags his feet to the kitchen, grabbing a mug and pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"I thought you were staying at Nova's," he mutters, sipping the hot coffee.
"It was late by the time I got back." I shrug, breaking two eggs in the pan.
Steve hums, grabbing a slice of bread, "she seemed pretty upset when you stayed behind yesterday." He points out, and I press my lips together, looking away.
"I'm gonna leave for a few days. Can you rearrange my classes?" I ask, watching him chugging another cup of coffee.
A frown appears on his face, but he gives me a nod. "Sure. Can I ask why?"
I hesitate, realizing this is not something I can tell him.
Steve is my best friend, but I know how much he cares about Nova. Telling him the truth is not an option. "Not sure yet," I say, putting my eggs on a plate.