Your Ivy Grows

Chapter 52

Bucky's eyes quickly sweep over my face; the horror building in them with the more of me he takes in.

"What the—" he cuts himself off before he can finish the thought.

His eyes land back on me as his hand comes up, reaching for my face before seemingly thinking better of it, stopping just shy of touching me. The horror is quickly being displaced by cold fury, as he does a head-to-toe scan of my body. I'm almost completely covered and glad for it because god only knows how much angrier he would be if he could see every mark John left on me.

"Who the fuck did that to you?"

Every time I've heard him angry in the past pales in comparison to this. It'd scare me if it wasn't obvious none of it's directed at me.

My throat burns, mainly from the damage John inflicted, but also because I'm refusing to cry. It's taking effort to choke down the tears that have been threatening to spill over the entire way here. But even without that holding me back, I still don't think I could tell him the truth.

Bucky doesn't need me to tell him; I see the second he puzzles the answer out for himself.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." He says with finality, leaving not a doubt in my mind that he'll make good on his word.

He's halfway to the door before I register I should stop him. The last thing I need is for Bucky to get himself arrested because I couldn't stop myself seeking comfort at his door when I should have gone somewhere—anywhere—else.

"No, Bucky, wait!" I croak the words, failing in my attempt to shout because the pain in my throat increases tenfold. I grab at it, as though it'll help.

By this point, Bucky has the door open, his keys in hand, but he stops in his tracks with his back to me. I don't know if the panic in my voice stopped him or if how pathetically broken and shaky my plea was did the trick.

Whatever it is, he squares his shoulders, lets out a long breath, and then turns his head to look back at me. Indecision swirls in his eyes, giving away the internal battle he's locked in as he glances between me and the open doorway. Does he want to confront John, something it's obvious he's itching to do, or does he want to comfort me?

"Please," I beg, voice shaking as one solitary tear finally wins out, tracking its way down my cheek.

That does it. The door is abruptly closed, and in two strides Bucky has made it back to me, pulling me to him as his arms envelope me.

Finally, in the safety of his embrace, I let myself break. The floodgates open and I throw my arms around him, burying my head in his neck as I let myself cry.

The shock and adrenaline that has sustained me till now abandons me entirely. All the fight goes out of me and all I'm left with is pain and the scary realisation that I could've died tonight. I could've died on that floor, John's hands at my throat and Bucky's image in my mind. Loud, heaving sobs rack my body as I cling to Bucky like he's my lifeline.

"It's okay," he whispers into my hair, his large hand rubbing my back in comforting circles while he lets me cry. "I've got you, baby."

I let him hold me while I breakdown, my body trembling as my legs give out. Bucky senses it a second before it happens, his arms reaching down to sweep me up bridal style, holding me against his chest.

In no time at all, he's sinking down into the couch with me in his lap. I curl into him, continuing to cry—I can't stop. Bucky lets me, offering comforting words and, blissfully, no pressing questions.

Every so often I feel the gentlest press of his lips against my hair as he kisses me, assuring me I'm okay.

The way he whispers, 'You're safe, I've got you' makes me cry harder even though I believe him. If there's one place in this world I feel safe, it's here. Finding solace in his arms as I breathe in the scent of him that's beginning to feel like home.