The Fall - Book 2

230. ...High-definition Technicolor.

⚠️ TW: flashback; SA; degradation/humiliation; torture; mention of brainwashing/conditioning ⚠️

As mentioned in the preceding Author's Note, this chapter was agonising to write.

JULY 19, 2020  — AVENGERS COMPOUND — BUCKY

Réa and I walk hand-in-hand through the compound, both of us silent as we make our way back to her room.

When we step through the bedroom doorway, my eyes land on the tumbler of water on her dresser, and a maelstrom of images fills my head: snippets from the nightmare; my wife scrambling away from me and cowering in the corner; her clinging to me as we cried together, our hands resting on her belly...and my own flashbacks.

"And if you push me, I'll cut your fucking brat out of her belly."

Rumlow's words echo in my mind, and a sob slips from me. Immediately, Réa looks up at me, her eyes filled with pain and sadness that match mine.

Tears pour down my cheeks; needing the comfort I can only find with her, I pull her to me, lifting her up and carrying her out onto her balcony, settling us both on the cabana bed. I sit with her in my lap, cradling her in my arms; like before, we cling to one another as we sob together.

"I'm s-sor-sorry," she chokes out, her apology further breaking my already shattered heart. "I c-coul-...couldn't pro-protect him...ou-our ch-child." She begins sobbing harder. "I w-w-wouldn't have b-been able to p-protect our baby.... Oh, g-g-gods, B-Bucky, our b-b-...our baby."

I don't speak, because I know there aren't any words to say. I simply hold my wife tighter and press my lips to her hair, my sobs continuing to mingle with hers.

Eventually, in the darkness, we cry ourselves to sleep.

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I wake to the sound of birdsong and the feel of early-morning sunlight on my face; opening my eyes, I blink against the glow. Réa is still asleep in my arms, curled up in my lap with her head on my shoulder, her hand still resting on her stomach. My mind is still a montage of horror and darkness; not wanting to fall into the vortex of memories, I watch my wife sleep, counting each breath she takes to keep myself firmly in the present.

After a while, she stirs, lifting her head from my shoulder. Her crystal blue gaze locks on mine, and while the pain and sadness are still visible in her eyes, I also see the deep, ever-present love.

"Bucky," she whispers.

"Mornin', Réa."

I slowly reach up to brush a strand of copper hair from her face; when she doesn't flinch away or tense, I complete the gesture, tucking the tendril behind her ear.

"I thought maybe we could just stay in your room today. Or mine. What do you think?" I ask.

"I'd like that," she softly replies. "I'm not quite ready to be around the others...especially after what happened in the gym."

"I'm not, either."

While I'm fine being around Réa, and would even be okay being around Wanda, Nat, Vision, Bruce, or pretty much any of the others, I'm not ready to see Steve. What he said to my wife wasn't fair; it was out of line, and completely uncalled for. And what she said to him...well, like I told him, she didn't say anything that I hadn't already thought myself.