The Winter Briar

ii. take good care of my baby

2014

"Juvenile," you found yourself saying as you stared back at the gun being so aggressively handled by hands your newly regained consciousness regarded as familiar which you couldn't even recognize.

These were strange venues you were in, and your body did not feel like your own. Your voice was a stranger's, as well as your limbs.

There you lay on the cold tiled surface of the train station, the stranger you felt compelled to recognize standing over you, your strange reconfigured limbs useless against his own extremities. You'd managed to yank off his mask earlier on, but this time you got a better vantage point to take in his features.

His eyes seemed enervated, but it was also overflowing with fury you couldn't even begin to measure. His brows looked like they've always been etched into a furrow, and his mouth felt as if it had been permanently etched into a scowl. And why did you care? Why should you bother how his eyes looked less fitting to a face your mind was trying to tell you to recognize?

I don't. You said the first thing that came to your mind. "Bug?"

"What—?" The slight tinge of confusion that passed over him was enough for you to snap out of the daze you gave yourself, and so the fight ensued once more; unfamiliar limb to unfamiliar limb.

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1943

He'd been avoiding you for about a week now. You figured he had just been busy, but it was strange how he'd always manage to slip away whenever you're in the same room or how he's gone unusually dry with how he talked to you, at least, until he stopped doing so.

"Bucky, what time are we—?" you greeted with enthusiasm as he was walking towards you, but he only looked straight ahead, passing you by with hands tucked in his pockets.

Confused, you naggily followed him. "Buck?"

He didn't stop until you pulled his arm yourself, halting him. "Are you alright? Did I do anything wrong or—?"

This is stupid, you think, especially as he refused to look back at you. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there. Tonight was the Stark Expo the two of you had been planning to attend ever since it had been announced. You were supposed to tell him personally how you felt, but now. . .

"You won't even look at me," you say, but it sounds more like a thought you didn't realize you had said out loud. "Bucky, it's been a week. What did I do wrong? Tell me."

"Forget it," he says so quietly that you almost hadn't heard him.

You scoffed. "Yeah, you know what? Forget it. In fact, I'm going to visit my fiancé right now." Take it back. Take it back. His frown deepened, and yet you kept going. This was not going well but you couldn't shut up. "He's taking me out tonight."

"Your what?" he said, disbelieving everything you'd just said. Quite of a letdown, you subtly thought to yourself. But then again, what even is an appropriate response in this kind of situation?

"Yes, my fiancé. Husband-to-be. In fact, it's been in the works for a year now." You leave out the fact that you had just found out about it a week ago and that, well, neither you and your 'fiancé' even fancied each other.

"You're getting married? Why am I only finding out about this now?"

"Oh, so now you care? Why, Bucky? Why do I have to tell you anything?"

"Because—!" he protests, the words caught in his throat.

"Because what?" Please say it. Please. And all will be well.