A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky Barnes

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Every time Marlow's eyes passed over her plants or pillows or blanket, she felt the residual burn of happiness from the evening Bucky brought it all into the apartment. It seemed to linger within her, like the emotion itself was trying to burrow and force her through just a few more moments of comfort. What she found unexpected though, was that she wanted it to linger. It was like once she had a taste of happiness, she craved it.

So, in the following days, she found herself trying to feel something even close to that again.

She made pasta and cookies between blocks of reading; drank hot chocolate and teased Bucky about his morning bed head; just little things that seemed to lighten her day.

And God, it was refreshing.

They returned to the park, some days to spend time on a bench, some days to walk around, but no matter what they did in the bitter wind, she felt lighter.

Although nighttime was a different story.

Her dreams, no matter how much she'd tried, never wanted to steer away from Hydra or the Prizrak. It was like a punishment for the moments of peace she had while awake, yet she continued to let herself have them; ignoring what her unconscious mind wanted her to relive.

She had to push those memories from her mind as she went about her days, like pulling a curtain across a window to block the view. It wasn't a perfect solution, and some days it was difficult to convince herself from her room, but she did, even if only to sit and have coffee with Bucky.

Ironically, it felt like moving forward with her life was simultaneously following and opposing the orders of Hydra... As with the last decade, she was doing what was expected of her, regardless of whether she necessarily wanted to do them. But this time, she was doing it to renounce them, to rid them from her mind—at least as much as she could.

And it was apparently the right thing to do because she was able to do it. A month ago, she couldn't even walk past someone, now she was in public, doing things by herself. That must mean she was getting better.

So that meant she was doing the right thing.

And her feelings aside, Bucky seemed happier every time she stepped outside of her comfort zone—for seeming happy herself—and she didn't want to mess that up. He made every little step seem significant, and that made her want to continue.

So even if it didn't feel like it, she was getting better, and she had to keep doing the things that were expected of her to continue getting better.

"I don't get how to do that," she had mumbled into the phone. "How to... go back to a normal life..."

"I have an idea of what you mean," Steve chuckled, and the noise made her wish to see his smile again. "But it'll come with small things—the thing's you're doing. Catching up, going out—those will help. And maybe the next step is making a friend."

"Someone isn't going to want to be my friend," she opposed immediately. "There is no me to be friends with."

"Marlow you're still you, even if it takes you a while to find yourself again. But that's why I said the next step. Take as long as you need, but I think new friends would do you good."

She picked at her fingernails, unconvinced of his statement. "Always liked being by myself..."

"Hmm, I think you like people more than you let on."

"Maybe before."

"Yah... Maybe before. But maybe you can get back to that point."

That was last week, and she'd successfully been distracting herself from his advice by focusing on her newest books. This one, like the ones previous, was a high fantasy about some prophesized human among elves and magic wielders.