Hell Bound

Eighteen

I wasn't looking forward to leaving Bucky alone again all day. I would have cancelled my meetings if so many people didn't look forward to them. And I didn't want anyone to become suspicious about my sudden change in routine. So once we were all ready for the day, Graham and I said goodbye and headed to the VA.

"So, what were you guys talking about last night?" I asked as I drove. "I could hear you from my room."

"Oh, just making observations mostly. I did most of the talking," he explained, picking at his fingernails. "He pretty much just grunted at me and contemplated the many ways he could make my death look like an accident."

"What kind of observations?"

"Um–well–I mentioned that you seemed upset, and the right thing to do would be to talk to you. He asked why I didn't go talk to you. And I said, 'Because I'm not the one who made her mad, dumbass.' And then he put me in a headlock and threatened to put my hand down the garbage disposal." I was silent for half a minute.

"Are you joking? I can't tell if you're joking or not."

"I'm not."

"Goddamn it."

"Anyway, he probably would have gone to talk to you if he could get up the stairs. He didn't say that was the problem, but I'm pretty sure it was. He looked like he wanted to go talk to you."

"So–that's it? That's all you guys talked about?"

"No, of course not. Once I was sure I wasn't about to lose my hand, I mentioned the–you know what we talked about before–the starry eyes thing. And he looked confused about that. I don't think he's used to people being able to read him."

"He's probably not used to visibly reacting to things. It took me weeks to get him to smile for the first time. Even longer to get him to laugh."

"Yeah, well, that too. But it seems almost like–he's not used to people paying attention to him at all." I sighed heavily.

"He's not used to people treating him like a human being."

"That makes a lot of sense."

"I also think that's why we had the almost thing. I don't think it was real–just that I was the first person to show him any genuine–warmth." He shook his head.

"Nah, I don't think it's like that. He doesn't look at you like that. He looks at you like you're the most beautiful and important person in his life."

I didn't have anything to say to that. I knew Bucky looked at me differently, but mostly because he just sort of scowled at everyone else. Except for Steve, but he rarely even made eye contact with Steve. And I knew there was some affection in how he looked at me, even if he didn't understand why yet. But I couldn't imagine it being so deep as that.

"I told him that," Graham continued after my moment of silence.

"You told him what?"

"What I just said. That he looks at you like you're the most beautiful and important person in his life."

"Oh." I almost asked how Bucky responded to that, but I was pretty sure I knew. He would have just scowled again or pretended to be emotionless before making a quick escape into the other room.

"Do you want to know what he said?" Graham asked.

"Wait, he actually said something to that?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Well–does he want you to tell me?" He shrugged a bony shoulder.

"Probably not. Maybe I'll just keep it to myself then. That way he doesn't kill me. You should ask him though. He might tell you." I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel.