𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗖𝗛 | bucky barnes

eight.

восемь. (vosem') — eight.

It's funny when you think you're alone. There are seven billion people on the earth. You are never, ever, the only one.

There's someone who can empathize with you. Someone who understands you. Maybe you haven't found them yet, but knowing they exist makes it a little better.

Mace had never thought about this before.

She had never needed anyone. Never wanted anyone. Why would she? It didn't matter if she was or wasn't alone. She hadn't cared.

But now, more than ever, she did. She had felt so alone. There was no one like her. No one who had done it all wrong.

But she wasn't alone anymore.

She'd hated him. Despised him. Blamed him for every problem. Everything she had to do. But it wasn't his fault. Never had been. James Barnes was not the Winter Soldier. Mace didn't have to tell herself that anymore. She knew it.

She was sorry.  Really, really, sorry.  And maybe she couldn't say it to everyone all at once.  But she could at least tick one off the list.

Barnes, she wrote. Then she crossed it off.

She showed up at his door at about noon. Knocked three times.  He answered.  This time, Bucky was not surprised to see her face at the door. 

"Mace," he greeted.

"Hi."

"So. Why are we here today?"

Last night had been quite the something.

"Actually.. I'm here to say sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what? You've said sorry."

"I know," she said.  "I know. But... I just— you were the person I hated the most. For basically my whole life. I blamed everything on you. And I was so stuck on... on killing you.. that I didn't even think of what I was doing. What path I was taking. And then... then finally, when I get my chance, I can't do it. So I turn it all around. And I'm trying to make my way back to the right path, but I get lost every time there's a fork in the road. And I don't know what to do. So then you come along, and you lead me through all the turns. And you don't even have to be doing that. Because I hated you. For all that time. But you didn't deserve it. You're James Barnes, for the gods' sakes. You're a war hero. And I could never be like you because I did it all out of choice. On purpose. And maybe I was angry about that. And I blamed it on you."

"And now?"

"I don't hate you. I don't know how I feel. But I can't hate you. And I'm not angry."

"You've said sorry to me before, Macie. You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you're saying sorry to yourself."

"Maybe."

"Come inside," he said, nodding into the doorway. Mace followed him in.

"I've been thinking," she began. "You're helping me so much. So maybe... I could try to help you. In multiple ways."

"In multiple ways?"

Mace thinned her eyes and tilted her head as if emphasizing the words.

"Ah," he realized.

"And sorry for... venting."

"Mace, you don't have to be sorry. Trust me, I know.  I've done it before.  Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Lighter," she said. 

"Took a lot of breath, huh?" he asked jokingly.

"Haven't talked so much since I was three."

Bucky laughed.

She so, so, loved it when he laughed.  The way his eyes lit up, the way his nose scrunched, the way his cheeks raised when he smiled.

As long as they're admitting things, right? Why not?

"I think I have feelings for you," she blurted. "Real ones.  Not just... I haven't touched someone in a long time feelings.  Like..."

"Like a 'you make me feel better' feeling?"

"Yeah," she said.  "Like that."

Bucky took a step closer to her and put a hand on her cheek.

"We're more alike than I thought," he said.

Mace looked up at him and smirked, then looked at his lips. She took a step closer.

"Like we share thoughts?" she said, her voice at a whisper.

"I can definitely tell what you're thinking."

Mace tilted her head.  She took his hand in hers and they intertwined their fingers— hers flesh, his metal.  It was cold on her fingers.  She didn't mind.  She brought the metal hand up to her face and kissed it, looking him in the eyes the entire time.

"And what do you think?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

She wasn't afraid of him anymore.  The Winter Soldier would never come back.  She didn't hate him.  She would go so far as to call them friends if there wasn't something more to it.

Bucky smiled in reply, then leaned in to kiss her.

His lips were soft.  They were gentle on her, even if hers weren't so used to it yet. Mace wanted to get used to it.  She loved it.  His face felt rough when she put her hands on his cheeks.  But she liked the feel.  She knew it was his face. 

Bucky loved that her hair was soft. He loved the way she held him as if she never wanted to let go.  He loved her eyes, the way they glowed with determination. He wished that one day she'd forgive herself. Like she forgave him.

His fingers ran through her hair, and her hands made their way to his cheeks. She kissed with passion. He was careful and gentle.

"Mmm," she muttered, breaking away for only a short moment. "I wish you had a bed in this place," she whispered.

Bucky smiled. "You're something, Mace. You know that?"

Mace grinned. They came apart and Mace rested her head on his chest, Bucky's head on hers. They swayed, though there wasn't any music.

"Just don't leave me, okay?"

Bucky picked up his head.

"Mace, look at me," he said. She looked up at him, hands still on his chest.  "I won't leave you.  I won't.  As long as you don't leave me."

Mace smiled.  "Deal."

"Good," he said.  Mace put her head back onto his chest.  "We can be mentally unstable former assassins together."

Mace laughed a little.  It was comforting, their soft talking.  And even when they were just silent, swaying to music that wasn't there.  It made her feel better.  Like maybe one day she would be back on the right path.