Hell Bound

Thirty-Four

When I returned, Bucky was sitting on the edge of my bed, putting his clothes back on. His back was bare when I walked in, and he was covered in the marks I'd left on his skin the night before. When I'd ridden him until we both shattered. I averted my eyes and went right for the closet. I needed something other than sweats to wear, and I couldn't look at him yet.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm just going to head out for a while. You guys make yourselves at home."

I pulled on some jeans and headed toward the door. But I stopped when I reached it. Even though I couldn't forget the image of him shoving me underwater, the memory of the night before was fresher. He'd held me close and tight. Frequently asking after my well-being on a whispered breath until neither of us could talk anymore. I'd fallen asleep wrapped in his arms. Warm and safe and comfortable. That was who he truly was. So I turned back around, shuffled to the bed at his side, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Even with the nightmare still churning in my brain, I could feel a pull to him. And I knew he felt it too. But when he lifted his hand to touch me, I slipped away before he could ask any questions.

Doctor Watson was already in her office by the time I got there. She led me in and made me a cup of coffee while I got comfortable on the couch. She handed the small cup over and then sat in the chair before me.

"I assume you had another nightmare," she stated, assembling her notebooks. My fingers were shaking as I took a sip of the scalding coffee. I wasn't sure if it was because of the dream or if I was just nervous talking about it.

"I get them a lot. But—this one was different. It rattled me."

"More so than the others?"

"I just—don't know what to do, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

I tapped my fingers on the side of the cup. I wanted to spill everything. But if she knew I had a fugitive in my house, she'd probably have to tell someone. I had to be careful about my words. No one outside my small group of family and friends knew about my association with Bucky at all. Aside from Hydra. I didn't want to tell her anything, but Sam knew her. He trusted her, and I trusted him. And I needed to get something out, or I'd explode.

"I um," I started, "there's a guy." She opened her notebook and nodded. "I'd actually prefer it if you didn't write anything down."

"No one has access to my notes, Johanna."

"I know, but I'd feel more comfortable without paper involved." She nodded slowly and closed the notebook. Then she set it down on a table and gave me her full attention.

"Is this the man you didn't want to tell me about?" she asked. I nodded.

"Yeah. He—things were already complicated from the start. A real relationship was never an option. So we agreed not to even try. But there was something between us. And we finally decided to worry about it when we had to. So naturally, everything fell apart. Completely imploded more like it." She nodded for me to go on.

"He disappeared for a while," I continued. "But then he came back, and we made it even more complicated. I already knew there were—feelings, I guess. I don't think I was in love with him. I cared about him deeply. And it could have been love, you know? If it hadn't blown up."

"I understand. And what happened when he came back?"

"It made everything worse."