Erase My Mind

Oh come on Bucky

She had been alone on the island for two weeks, but only the silence in the house was haunting her.

The kitchen was quiet. The fire hardly filled the living room with sound. She couldn't bring herself to play around with the record player - she didn't know how it worked. Bucky always turned it on.
The routine they had built became her own. She got out of bed after a restless night or dreams and flashbacks. She went on runs and did small workouts in the yard. She ate something that Bucky had made for the first couple days, now she settled for noodles with butter. That was about all she could make without burning down the kitchen. She sat in her favorite chair reading for hours, from whatever she found on the bookshelf upstairs. She finished Moby Dick in a single sitting last night.
It was the same everyday; his leaving hadn't interrupted the routine they had built, it was just quieter now. Not that Bucky spoke much anyways. It wasn't that she needed him, she was perfectly capable of living on her own, but he had left. She had no idea where he was, and finding him would be near impossible. Even with her 'spy skills', tracking Bucky down would take weeks.
So why was this so difficult? What she had not accounted for?
She actually missed the bastard.
It was like living with a robot, but she missed talking at dinner, reading together, even trying his upper body workouts (workouts she had absolutely dreaded).

It wasn't quite midday when she finished her daily run, but a shower was in order. Three days worth of sweat was not doing her nose any favors. The water was scalding hot as she washed her hair, the steam making it hard to breathe, but she couldn't stand cold water hitting her face. It felt like when she was being woken up back at Hydra. It was highly discomforting for her. Bucky might understand.
She was irritated that he was on her mind again. She was the one who sent him away, she was the one who told him to fuck off and leave her alone. It was probably guilt that kept his stupid face rooted in her mind. She couldn't remember a time when she was so fiery, so irritated with the smallest things around her. It was grating on her nerves.
She was rinsing the conditioner out of her hair when she heard the hum of jet engines outside the house. There were two possibilities, and they were both bad. Either it was Bucky, and she would have to leave the island if he was followed, or it was the remnants of Hydra that finally found her. Regardless, she was ready to leave at any given moment, so she turned off the water and grabbed a towel to wrap around her body. She peered out the bedroom window and was furious (albeit relieved...) that it was Bucky walking down the jet bridge. No, angry, she was angry.
She stormed outside, ready to smack Bucky in the face for daring to fly back here, but the soft grass and warm sun were distracting. Mad, be mad. She continued her stroll down the yard, half naked and unabashed.
"Why would you come back?" she shouted, one hand gripping the towel that was wrapped precariously around her body. He didn't react as he stepped off the ramp. "I can't stay here anymore, you compromised me," she snapped. He still said nothing, and made no attempt to shield himself when she punched his arm. He didn't even stagger, and then, that bastard smiled at her. He fucking grinned, like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen. "Really? The least you could have done is stayed away." Still nothing, just that stupid smile. She wanted to shove him back, throw him in the ocean maybe, wipe that smug smirk off his face, but she didn't.
She knew she wasn't really mad. Not at Bucky. She missed Bucky. Truthfully, it was good to see him. It was good to know that he had been thinking about her. She growled and turned away, trudging back to the house, tears falling into the grass.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed in her room when Bucky came up to stand in the doorframe. She knew she was crying too much, but didn't care. It was hard to breathe, hiccups were causing her throat to swell, and there was snot running from her nose. It was stupid, pathetic, sad. This was her own damn fault, and she couldn't handle it. She didn't want to face it. Bucky was approaching her carefully, like you would approach a hungry lion. He draped a blanket over her shoulders. Fucking bastard. He knelt down in front of her and tried to school his expression into something serious.
"I hope you've missed me doll, otherwise this is going to get awkward." He pulled the corners of the blanket towards himself and gently covered her legs. She hadn't realized that she was cold until he started rubbing her calves that were covered in goosebumps. Breathing gradually became easier and Bucky continued to soothe her with a gentle back rub until she wasn't shivering so much. Then she started to giggle... Bucky's words made her giggle like a schoolgirl.
"It's hard to be mad at you when you're being the bigger person, so I'm gonna need you to stop," she said, sniffing and wiping her nose with the towel still covering her body. He was shaking with laughter when she admitted that, eventually calming down enough to lean his forehead against hers.
"I was mad too. I was so fucking angry. Angry enough to leave you on an island without a plane. I was also tempted to poke holes in the boat. Just to be a dick." He said the last part quickly, embarrassed. He probably wasn't kidding. She laughed.
"We're both too unstable to be alone."
"Agreed, but if you want to punch me some more, I'll understand."
"Glad that option is still on the table. Where have you been?" she asked, sitting up and leaning for the clothes that lay on the dresser.
"Arkhangelsk."
"Russia?" she said, surprised.
"Yes."
"Did you find what you were looking for?" He turned around and picked up his backpack while she unwrapped the towel from her body.
"Yes and I will tell you everything, but let me start lunch so we can eat first." Bucky suggested. "I also found you some clothes, the base had a bunch of standard issue sweats that I thought would fit you," he added, standing up and closing the door on his way to the kitchen. She looked through the paper bag he had pulled from his backpack to find a few small sports bras, some plain black and white t-shirts, two pairs of black sweatpants, and a pair of large jeans. She chose a white t-shirt and jeans. They were a little too big, but they worked.