Frayed Bonds - A BuckyBarnes Fanfic

CHAPTER VIII

I jolt awake, feeling my heart race inside my chest. My breathing is hard and shallow. Sweat is clinging to my skin and I remember where I am as my eyes are accustomed to the darkness. 
The Avengers compound, one of the spare bedrooms.
Suddenly there is a knock on my door that makes me jump. And before I can say anything, James opens the door and steps three big steps towards my bed. Without any words, he sits down on the bed and his arms find their way around my waist. He holds me close against his chest, as my breathing slows down.
"Rae, I heard you scream across the hall. I got you" He murmurs soft in my ear. His voice easing the roaring in my ears. I cling to him as my breathing goes back to normal.
Why does this feel so normal, so naturally.
It feels like an eternity as we sit in silence on my bed. I can only hear the sounds of James, his steady breathing and the sound of my own hoarse breathing. I feel the gentle brush of his fingers against my hair and in this particular moment I feel safe, so wrapped up in his arms, far away from the nightmare of my parents dying in front of me.
The nightmare felt so real,
I still feel the silent tears roll down my cheeks as a rare calm settles over me. "Stay with me please" I whisper, my voice still raw of grief.
I sound so desperate, what must he think of me?
But James replies without hesitation. "Always" And I feel a slight brush of his lips on the top of my head.
Minutes pass, the silence punctuated by our breathing. Finally, James pulls back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his voice a gentle murmur.
I shake my head, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. "Not now," I manage to say. "I just need you to stay."
He nods, understanding without needing further explanation. "Okay," he says simply, his hand never leaving my waist.
We lay back together on the bed, James adjusting the covers around us. He keeps one arm around me, his touch a constant source of comfort. I nestle closer to him, burying my face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent that I've come to associate with safety and home.
As the minutes stretch into hours, the nightmare fades, replaced by the solid reality of James's presence. His fingers continue to stroke my hair, and I feel myself drifting back towards sleep, this time without the terror lurking in the shadows.
Just before sleep claims me, I hear James's soft whisper, "I'm here, Rae. I'm not going anywhere."
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I wake up the next morning, my body is tangled in the sheets and James's arm still draped protectively over me. For a moment, disoriented from sleep, I forget. But then it all crashes back, the weight of grief settling over me like a heavy blanket.
My parents. My brother. My sister. All gone in an instant. A car accident. The details blur together in my mind, a scream, flashing lights and then nothing.
I feel James stir beside me, and his blue eyes meet mine. "Morning, Rae," he whispers, his voice a soft anchor pulling me from the abyss of my thoughts.
"Morning," I croak, my voice barely above a whisper. The rawness from last night still clings to my throat. "I don't know what to do, James. I have to arrange everythingâ€"the coffins, how do I even have the money for all of this?â€"but I can't even think straight."
James tightens his arm around me, his touch grounding me back into the present. "You don't have to do this alone," he says firmly. "We'll figure it out together. One step at a time."
I nod, trying to find comfort in his words, but the overwhelming sense of responsibility and loss feels insurmountable. "I don't even know where to start," I admit, tears welling up in my eyes.
"First, we'll make a list," James suggests gently. "We'll break it down into manageable tasks. And I'll be with you every step of the way."
With a deep breath, I try to gather the shattered pieces of my mind. "Okay. A list," I agree, my voice steadier now.
James helps me sit up, his hands never leaving my shoulders. He grabs a notepad from the nightstand and sits beside me, pen in hand. "Let's start with the basics. We need to contact a funeral home."
I nod, "And I need to figure out how to pay for everything," I add, anxiety creeping into my voice.
"We'll look into options for financial assistance," James reassures me. "And if needed, we'll ask Tony and the others for help. They'll understand." That is true, they said so last night.
"Okay. I can do this," I say, more to convince myself than anything.
"Yes you can do this," James states, squeezing my hand. I squeeze back and then I hop out of bed, my body aches but I manage to dress myself into a sports legging and an oversized black shirt. I tie my tousled hair into a ponytail and quickly brush my teeth. I splash water in my face to wake up and wash the evidence of the fallen tears away. I walk out of my bedroom, seeing that James has made up the bed. He sits at the desk which also stands in this guest room. I walk up to him and let myself sit on the ground next to his chair.
The morning passes in a blur of phone calls and paperwork, the first thing I did was call Coulson, but he already knew. At the end of the morning I called the funeral home and the financial aspects were sorted by Tony, who came by and brought us coffee and breakfast.