Fragments of Us: A WinterWidow Short Story

Chapter Eight

Nine days. It was on the longer end of stays for him as far as he could remember. The first two had been hazy, the doctors kept pumping drugs in as the serum worked through them faster than the average human body. The room's sterile scent, an uncomfortable mix of antiseptic and metallic sharpness lingered in his nose. And he couldn't wait to get away from the consistent beeping from the machines around him.

But she had been there every day. In that infuriatingly uncomfortable chair next to his bed, asleep with her head in her hand, eyes fluttering with every groan or movement he made. He could tell the sleep had been anything but restful, she was constantly on edge worried about him.

It struck him as odd that on the day he was finally being released, she wasn't there. That was their life though. Always on call, a step away from being swept off to some far off place in an effort to make the world a safer place.

Changing was a slow process. His ribs, though significantly better, still sent sharp pangs through him when moving too fast. In another week he'd be moving with out wincing. But the blistered and burned skin was a different story; the smaller burns were healing well. But the larger ones were bound to take longer. The doctors estimated at minimum four more weeks before he'd be cleared for a new prosthetic. They didn't want to risk disturbing the fragile tissue before it has a decent amount of time to heal. Until then everything was bound in tight gauze with strict orders to change them daily.

"You ready Buck?"

Bucky turned at the familiar voice to see Steve leaning against the doorframe, an easy smile on his face. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Didn't expect you to pick me up. I only live two floors up, you know."

"I thought you might want lunch. Nat had to take care of some last-minute issues. We didn't think you should be released with out someone here, regardless of where you live." Steve said, a playful tone masking his concern.

Bucky smirked as he reached for the jacket Natalia had brought with the rest of his clothes. She'd grown tired of him complaining that his butt was hanging out every time he went to the bathroom. He struggled to pull the jacket on, movements hindered by his missing arm and bandaged side. Once he was done he began shoving the rest of the clothes Natalia had brought him into a bag.

"Let me grab that," Steve took the bag tossing it over his shoulder. He held up a hand as Bucky began to protest. "Don't even try."

"Steve I can-"

"I don't wanna hear it. You're still healing. Let me do this." The blonde nodded to the crutch. "Don't forget that."

With a roll of his eyes he grabbed the gray crutch propped beside the bed. "I'm fine, I don't need it."

"You fractured your right fibula. You might be healing fast but we don't need you breaking it or delaying the healing because you're too stubborn. Take the crutch or I am getting you a wheelchair."

"Alright dad." Bucky let out a soft laugh, he let the sarcasm roll off his tongue as he grabbed the crutch. He shifted his weight awkwardly with only one arm to support himself. "Alright, where to?

"Car is waiting on the street, figured Murphy's cheesesteaks would do?"

"Sounds perfect." The thought of overloaded sandwiches made his stomach growl. And Murphy always made sure to throw in a little extra for his favorite customers.

The hallway felt longer than usual, the echoes of their footsteps blending with the low hum of fluorescent lighting. But the time they made it to the elevator Bucky found himself grateful for the car waiting outside. The busy street noise and fresh breeze were a welcome change from his last week and he not felt every step so deeply, he would have liked to walk the few blocks to the sandwich shop.

"So Nat?" Steve asked as soon as the car pulled away from the curb, a smirk on his face.

"Yeah.." Bucky admitted, feeling a warmth that pushed aside the pain.

"Maybe you should have told her sooner. Seems like it all worked out."

"You just want me to say you were right." Bucky retorted with a playful smile shove to Steve's shoulder.

Steve shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "You don't have to, but I sure wouldn't mind it."

"I still feel like it was the right decision. I don't think I ever would have felt right forcing it on her."

Steve nodded his understanding and they fell into a comfortable silence as the car slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. A familiar reddish brown bricked building looming in front of them. He swallowed the memories of shared moments and turned to face Steve.

"Steve what's going on? I don't live here any more."

"Just trust me Buck." He smiled, leading him through the front door and to the stair way

Bucky took the stairs slowly. Memory made him avoid the spots that creaked more than others, balancing his crutch and weight with each step. Steve slowed his pace to match Bucky's.

Steve didn't knock when they reached the door to the apartment Bucky and Natalia had once shared. Instead he pushed to door open and helped Bucky in. They moved slowly to help prevent any pain but Bucky still felt it. His chest ached with each breath, his right leg throbbed, and his head spun. He hadn't been this bad in a long time. SHIELD wasn't gonna let him take on any new missions for a while if he didn't get feeling better fast.

Natalia had wanted him to take a break hadn't  she? He would be taking one for certain now.

He stared at the wall next to the door, his heart skipping a beat. The picture he'd taken down months ago had been replaced. Natalia tucked in his chest while he kissed her hair. The same one he had buried in a moving box weeks ago. A moving box he'd left unopened beside his bed.

"Why is this here?" He whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.

"You should ask her."

He turned to see her standing under the hand made 'Welcome home James' banner. Balloons had been tied to one of the kitchen chairs. A stack of pancakes sitting in the middle of the table. It wasn't the idea of this being home again, or the balloons and the pancakes she hated so much. But her smile, the warmth of it pulling him in. She dropped her crossed arms, hands still hidden beneath the overly long sleeves of her favorite chunky sweater.

"Welcome home, Soldat."

He limped foreword, leaving the crutch with his friend. He ignored the dull ache that flared with each step. She was in his arms before he could close the distance. She led him to the couch as he winched through the pain.

"Thank you, Steve." She didn't break her eye contact with James as she waved at their friend. Steve set the crutch against the wall and slipped out the door.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked softly, concern etched into her eyes.

James shook his head, fingers curling around the knit of her sweater. Pulling her into him. "Just stay right here, please."

He took a deep breath, the smell of her peach shampoo filling his nose. He closed his eyes, playing with the ends of her hair. Peace washed over him for the first time in weeks.

"How many arms does that make now?" He cracked his eyes to look at her, the playful tease glinting in her eyes.

"Lost my first in the war, another with KGB and hydra, lost the third to Red Skull's massive android outside Kronos a couple years ago, then I lost a hand when we fought Skull inside Steve's body. Does that count?"

She raised an eyebrow and nodded. So he put up another finger before continuing on.

"And then the one when I 'died.' Right before-" he stopped and quickly moved on. He was done living on Leo and his actions. He had a chance at happiness again and Leo wasn't going to touch that. "And now this one. So that makes at least six?"

"You know most people don't even loose one?"

"Most people don't love to be older than a hundred." He replied with a dry chuckle.

"You don't look a day over 90." she quipped, leaning in as he brushed his fingers under her chin. The pain fading as she kissed him, her touch erasing everything else. Here in this moment he had the only thing he wanted. Nothing else mattered.