Just Him&I: In Universe of Cruelty

Part 32

The phone call pulled me out of the kingdom of dreams, painfully throwing me into harsh reality.
I freed myself from James's heavy arms, which seemed to truly want to strangle me.
I threw on his T-shirt and walked into the living room, not wanting to wake him up too.
I picked up the receiver without even looking at who was calling.
Yawning with displeasure, I stretched while holding the phone with my shoulder.

— Hello, — I climbed onto the windowsill, watching the world outside, and a pleasant female voice came through the receiver.

— Hi! I probably woke you up, but you left so quickly yesterday. I wanted to tell you something, I think you should know.
— I closed my eyes, waiting for Natasha to reveal the news of the day — whatever made her call this early.

— So... Rumlow died in prison.
— I froze in place at the mention of his name and opened my eyes, glancing around. It felt like his name materialized and he was standing somewhere nearby. I swallowed hard.

— How did he die? What happened?
— I made sure nothing was around except for the sleeping James in the next room. I sat back where I'd been a few minutes earlier. Natasha sighed heavily on the other side of the phone and continued.

— He had liver cancer. That's what killed him. The doctors predicted he had at least a week left. And that's when he got caught and sent to prison. Right before that, he was bothering you. He wanted to finish his mission before death. Thought you'd come to him yourself, and if not — he'd kill you as an unnecessary witness. But it didn't work out. And when you and Bucky disappeared — it really pissed him off. He got reckless and eventually ran into James.
— I watched the drops of water running down the window. Outside, it was snowing. That happened because of the warmth inside the building.

— So James caught him?
— It was a rhetorical question — like asking if grass is green. But he never told me. When could he have? When we were busy sorting out our relationship?

— How do you know all this?!
— She was silent for three minutes, then said:

— He left a suicide note, confessed everything. Also wrote that he hoped to destroy you even after death. I think you know what video I mean. He died two days ago — the same day you received that video. He planned it all to the tiniest detail, but the one thing he didn't manage — was to finish his mission. I didn't agree to help, so he tried to kill me. That's when he missed. Even that video wasn't enough to ruin what James and I have. So I hope they reserved a special cauldron in hell just for him.

— And how are you doing? — Natasha asked in a cheerful yet calm voice. I could hear her turning on the stove — sounded like she was making breakfast. I glanced at the clock and realized it was only seven in the morning. As soon as we finished talking, I was going back to bed.

— I'm doing well. We made up. My life finally found its way to the bright side, — I smiled remembering last night.

— Whoa, I can hear from your voice it was a very peaceful make-up.
— I heard Natasha laughing through the phone, and I smiled even wider, showing my teeth.

— Oh, shut up! — She kept laughing, while I flinched hearing a noise in the room where James was sleeping.

— Okay, thanks for calling. I'll call back later — I think Bucky woke up. Take care! — I climbed off the windowsill, checking the kitchen for sharp objects. But then I exhaled, calming myself — there was no danger anymore. Especially after Brock's death.

— Don't forget about me out there. Bye! — Natasha answered and hung up. I put the phone on the table and hurried to the bedroom to check what was happening.
I stepped over the threshold barefoot and walked over to James's side of the bed.
He was tossing and turning a bit — I leaned over him.
Then I knelt down, touching his cheek with my hand.
I tried to calm him. And after a few moments, he finally stopped moving, his breathing evened out.
I, in turn, began to slowly enter his dream — like stepping into warm water, going deeper with every step.
I could control my body — stop when I wanted to.
And I realized I was controlling my power. Not fully, but I was doing it.
I saw everything in third person now, but didn't move.

He slowly climbed through the bedroom window.
Luckily, the owner (definitely not him) had left it open.
He was almost silent and invisible.
He scanned the room for anyone, but found only the cold, empty bed.
I felt my blood start to pulse in my veins.
I finally moved, watching him — he didn't notice me at all, like I was a ghost.
I looked around the rooms we were passing through. One door was wide open, and I could see lots of toys inside.
Dolls with neat hairstyles in colorful, short dresses.
They were all lying on the floor — like the child had left just a minute ago.
A nice little dollhouse stood nearby, and next to it, a toy tea set — looked almost like real porcelain.
The bed was neatly made, and a teddy bear looked at me from it.
He was brown, with a pretty pink bow.
And I saw how he was looking straight into my eyes.
I imagined a five-year-old girl playing there, holding each doll in her hands.

Suddenly I heard a gunshot in the far room, and it deafened me so badly I heard a ringing in my ears.
I ran toward the noise, lungs full of air.
I searched for the right room, finally stopping and staring at the silhouettes.

A man with a skinny face and light hair sat on the floor, head leaning against the wall.
He was only wearing loose dark pants, and his eyes stared into nothing.
I saw the life leaving his body, blood streaming wildly from his forehead.
He held a glass in his hand, which finally fell, spilling its contents.
Bucky held a gun, and I already knew whose orders this was and who wanted him dead.
I covered my nose, feeling the scent of iron fill the room.
It felt like I was covered in blood myself.
James stood still, then finally stepped closer to the man and pressed three fingers to his throat.
Checking for a pulse — maybe he needed to finish the job.
The thoughts and guesses scared me so much I couldn't stop thinking about the toys.

"He has a daughter, who will soon find out her dad is gone.
He has a little girl, who maybe doesn't even know what death is yet.
He has a daughter who, without a doubt, loves him."

When he didn't feel a pulse, he pulled his fingers away and rested his hand on his knee.
Then he turned his head toward me.
His icy eyes — not the ones I was used to — stared right through me.
Those eyes had seen what his own hands had done. Things no one should see.

I abruptly opened my eyes, adjusting to the bright light around me.
Breathing in through my nose.
The ground returned beneath my feet — I felt it solidly under me.
It still seemed like I could taste blood in my mouth — but it was just a hallucination.

James touched my hand, and I flinched, looking straight at him.
He was already sitting on the bed, and his eyes seemed normal again.
But they darted over my face with concern.

— I have something to tell you...
— I let go of his cheek and rose from my knees.