Winter Widow One Shots

Eternity

*I can't make video edits, so here is my take on Alex Warren's heart breaking song*

It's quiet. Too quiet.

The clock ticked on the wall, counting down to the next minute. The next hour. The next heartbeat he didn't want to feel.

But Bucky had lost track of time around the same time he'd lost track of the tears he'd shed. The nights of not sleeping. The team moved on, started picking up the pieces. Putting the world back together as best they could. But he was stuck in this hell he was forced to call home.

He stood in the doorway of the room, staring at it like she would appear — like she'd round the corner, roll her eyes at his brooding, tell him to sit on the bed beside her and just breathe. Like she'd lean in, press her lips to his jaw and remind him he wasn't alone.

But the room was still. And hollow.

Dust and debris littered the floor, the air carrying the scent of ash and earth and her, buried beneath days of silence. The far wall had been blown open during Thanos' first assault on the compound. What remained of it was cracked drywall and a view of the sky.

A cool breeze crept through the tattered curtains, making them dance — slow and sorrowful — like they too were waiting for her.

Still, everything inside the room looked like her. Felt like her.

It was simple. Ordered. Everything had a purpose. Always. Her boots still stood by the door, their black leather now powdered white with dust.

Her go-bag sat tucked in the closet, half-packed, always ready. The vanilla candle she used to light at night had burned so low it looked like it was begging to be remembered.

And there, on the nightstand, sat the small ring he had given her. It caught the fading light, as if to remind him it was there.

Steve had told him she wore it every day, while the world crumbled. While half of all life vanished. While he was gone. She had held onto the ring like a tiny promise. But she had taken it off that morning and left it on her nightstand. As if she knew she wasn't coming back.

It should have been a comfort to have it now. To know she wore it all those days. Should have been something he wanted to hold close to remember her. But part of him ached that she had chosen to leave that part of him behind when she went. A small way to prevent him from following her somewhere he couldn't go. 

He knew she had left it for him. But he wanted her to have it. Wanted it on her finger where it belonged. Not abandoned here on her bedside table.

Knowing her body, the woman he loved, was left on some cold, distant planet, unreachable and alone, made his stomach twist until it was a fist of grief.

His hand hoovered over it, trembling.

They hadn't even told anyone. Hadn't confessed to any one their secret. Not about the engagement, the endless nights tangled together, not even that they had found their way back together. Let alone that they'd known each other before. That their lives were deeply tangled far before Washington, or Odessa.

Two ghosts drawn together long before either truly knew what it meant to love.

He sank onto the bed, holding the small ring in his shaking fingers. Five years. She had gone five years looking for a way to bring them back. To bring him back.

And to him it had only been a moment.

He couldn't imagine the pain she had dealt with.

No. That wasn't true.

He could.

He felt it now.

The past rushed in, crashing into him like it always did.