Hell Bound

Ten

Bucky stayed in the bathroom for an unusually long time. Once I finished with him, I sent Graham upstairs to get ready for the day while I finished in the kitchen. I didn't start to get worried until I was heading up the stairs and heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. I paused on the landing, but no other sounds reached me.

I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to talk to him. But the shattered glass had me frozen to the spot. I didn't know what happened while we were apart. They'd taken him away and scrambled his brain again. They could have done anything to him. Even if they hadn't, sometimes I couldn't tell which version of him I was talking to. Even when I could see a touch of the man I'd come to know, it still felt like part of him was missing. The part of him that had known me. That had touched me and kissed me and found comfort in my arms.

Then I wondered if the glass was my window breaking. What if he was leaving again? Now that he'd gotten the help he needed, he had no use for me anymore. I was just a stranger with the ability to sew him back up. But even if he could get out the window, he wouldn't get very far. It took a lot of work just to get him to the bathroom. He'd left all his weapons stuffed into my couch cushions or sitting on the table within reach. Not to mention, the bathroom opened up right next to the back door. He could have just slipped out silently without having to break anything.

I returned to the hallway and cautiously approached the door.

"Bucky? Are you okay?" He took a moment to answer, and I was almost convinced he really had tried to get out of the window. But then I heard the shift of his feet on the tile and a pained breath.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay."

"I can fix it."

"Don't worry about it. Just–come get some rest."

"I will."

"I'll go find you something to wear. And a toothbrush. Is that okay?"

"Yes."

I reluctantly left him alone and headed back up the stairs to find him some clothes. I still had the things he'd left behind from the last time he'd stayed with me. But they were buried in my closet, and I didn't have time to dig them out. So I grabbed my largest pair of sweats and found a new toothbrush in the hall closet. I brought them downstairs and tapped on the door.

"I have some sweats for you," I told him. The door popped open, and his hand slid out. I handed them over and only caught a glimpse of my shattered mirror before he shut the door again.

"Where's the kid?" he asked from inside.

"In the shower. Why?"

"I don't trust him."

"What, really?"

He didn't answer that. I waited for him to get dressed, and neither of us said anything else until the door opened. He stepped into the hall wearing my slightly too-tight sweatpants and looked at me through a veil of damp hair.

"Are you ready to lie down?" He nodded once. I went to his side and wrapped my arm around his chest. I helped him hobble back to the couch, where he dropped with a huff. "What happened?" I asked as I reached for the blanket so I could tuck him back in like a patient. He shook his head.

"I lost control," he explained, running his hand over his metal arm. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's just a mirror."

"It could have been you." I put my hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down onto the pillow. He laid back without a fight and let me pull the blanket over him.

"But it wasn't," I reminded him. He didn't say anything. So I left to get ready for work.

When I left the upstairs bathroom a little while later, the kid was still sitting in the spare bedroom. He was on the futon with one of my books propped up on his lap.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Reading," he told me. Like this was obvious.

"You could have gone back downstairs." He scoffed sarcastically.

"I probably would have died before I got to the landing." I rolled my eyes.

"He won't kill you." I turned toward my bedroom.

"Easy for you to say. He likes you."

"Just try not to make any sudden movements."

"Or say anything about anything ever."

"That too." I reached for my shoes and met him back in the hall. "C'mon. Let's go."

"Do you mind if I use you as a human shield?"

"Go right ahead."

He followed me down the stairs, and Bucky was right where I'd left him. Only it looked like he'd actually fallen asleep while we were busy. He woke up when we came down, eyes popping open like he was momentarily startled. He watches us, only vaguely threatening toward Graham, as we got ready to leave. Once I had my shoes on and a clean jacket, I sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"I'll be back later this afternoon," I told him. "You better not go anywhere."

"I wouldn't be able to," he reminded me.

"That doesn't mean you won't try. Just–stay. Help yourself to whatever you want. Try to get as much rest as you can."

"I will." I nodded quickly and headed out the door. Graham hurried to keep up with me so he wasn't stuck with Bucky longer than he had to be. He lugged my heavy meeting box in his hands. We didn't speak until I pulled the car onto the street. The radio came on as the car started, and it threw us right into a broadcast about the explosion. I shut it off before Graham put it together. His silence only lasted about half a minute longer.

"I saw what he did to the mirror," he said, chewing on his thumbnail and looking out the window at the passing street. I took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel.

"He has a hard time controlling it."

"Controlling what?"

"I can't really explain it."

"And you trust him not to turn that arm against you?" I hesitated to answer, but eventually nodded. Even if I wasn't entirely sure, I didn't want anyone to know the thought crossed my mind. Regardless, I didn't think Bucky would ever do it intentionally. In a moment of lost control, maybe.

"I trust him with my life."

"That makes one of us," he muttered.