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Uhhh... shit is about to get real. And emotional. Sorry in advance. I know this ends on a cliffhanger, but I'm recovering from psychological and emotional burnout from academia, so I stop when my brain tells me to stop and I don't push past my limits.
Just a note, this fic is ultimately about how you can love multiple people for multiple reasons and how different people can fill those spaces in your heart. If that's not something you're personally into, that's fine! But love looks different for everyone.
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It's hard to believe it's boiled down to this It seems so surreal this won't be healed by a kiss It's hard to stare at you knowing you like I have I used to feel so close, now I feel so bad My heart's filled with thunderstorms and I'm ready to burst And I've lost my favorite harbor and I'll weather for the worst - Jewel, "Everything Breaks"
The sound of guns and bullets clicking together is oddly soothing. It feels like they're doing something, and Reilly's body slides into an old routine as she cleans her handgun while Steve loads up assault rifles and knives. It's like she's back doing what she was trained to do. Neither Steve nor Bucky have seen just how good she was in the field. Over the past year, she's felt like she's lost whatever sharpness she had, but it was probably due to the alcohol. She can feel it, though, coming back, resting a warm hand on her shoulder.
The last thing she wants either of them to think is that she's somehow inept or incapable of killing a couple of fucking zombies, but her track record hasn't been great so far. Bucky and Steve have had to save her, but Reilly can save herself. She's always been able to do that, even in her own fucked up way.
Her pinky finger still twitches for a drink, heavily aware that the bottle of whiskey is just in the kitchen in an opened cabinet staring her in the face. She notices that Steve's packing clothes on top of the guns and ammo. And food. Reilly raises a brow.
"What are we packing all of this for?"
"In case we can't come back," Steve replies. "Did you try the water?"
"Still out."
"Fuck," he sighs. "I don't like this, doll."
"Neither do I."
It's been longer than an hour, at least it feels that way. The sun is going to be going down in a few hours and they have to find Bucky. Steve is starting to get anxious, she can tell by the way he keeps clenching his jaw and blinking excessively, like he's trying to figure something out.
They're both half-dressed, Reilly in a pair of black jeans and a bra, and Steve in a pair of Bucky's tactical pants. He keeps looking at the hallway to the space his shield used to occupy. Reilly tries not to think about the worse case scenario.
