Hell Bound

Thirty-Nine

After I dropped Graham off for his first day of work, I headed back home to prepare for my meeting. The week was almost over, and I wasn't looking forward to another long, boring weekend. Technically the job at the VA wasn't enough to cover my bills and basic needs, but Stark wouldn't let me buy anything when I lived with him. And he'd paid me far more than needed. So I had a lot built up. But I was going to have to find a job anyway. Just in case Hydra never came for me at all. I might as well make myself useful.

When I got home, I headed right for the kitchen to make myself another cup of coffee. It wasn't the first cup I'd had, but I wanted to be able to get through a meeting without Graham's help. I poured myself a mug and then turned around. There was a figure standing in the archway. I jumped and dropped the cup, splattering hot coffee all over the floor.

"Goddamn it!" I said.

"Sorry," Bucky replied, stepping forward to help me clean up. I bent down to pick up the shattered remains of my favorite purple mug.

"What are you doing here, Buck?" I asked as I carried the chunks of ceramic to the trash.

"Stitches need to come out."

"You should have stayed an extra day or two. They were only supposed to stay in for a week at most. At least for someone with normal healing."

"I know, but...." He didn't finish his sentence, so I went back to cleaning up spilled coffee.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I knew you were going to leave."

"Were you upset?"

I dropped a towel on the floor and looked him over. He was wearing the clothes I'd given him, plus the jacket he'd brought. I did manage to get the blood stains out of it, but there were still rips and tears from all the glass and shrapnel. I never got around to fixing them. He was wearing a baseball cap and had his dark hair tucked behind his ears. Trying to appear normal and inconspicuous.

"What do you want me to say, Bucky? You want me to tell you I wasn't upset? That it didn't hurt? That seeing you in my kitchen again a week later makes everything okay? You would know if I was lying." He knelt down in front of me and cleaned up the mess. I stayed standing where I was.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said. I sighed.

"I know. But I don't think it was avoidable. I knew you were going to leave. I knew you'd do it in the middle of the night. I also knew I couldn't come with you. I wasn't surprised. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt to wake up alone."

"You told me not to say goodbye."

"I know that too. But I don't know. Maybe I was just hoping for something—more. Some kind of acknowledgment that it wasn't—over."

He stood and ran the pad of his thumb along my jaw. It felt nice to see him again, but what I really wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and beg him not to go. I felt like an idiot. I knew what he was doing and why. But it didn't mean I had to like it. Then, of course, I remembered what Graham said. It took a lot of love and self-control not to be completely selfish. My desire to have Bucky stay was selfish, and I had to let it go.

"I'm not mad at you," I insisted. "I'm just...." I put my hand on my chest and squeezed my shirt in my fingers. He nodded without me having to explain.

"I probably shouldn't have come back."

"No. I'm glad you came." I reached for the coffee-soaked towel and passed him so I could dump it in the sink. "I'll get my stuff. Just go lie down on the couch." He nodded and headed back toward the hallway.

I got my kit and made sure I had what I needed to pull his stitches out. When I returned to the living room, he was sitting on the couch. He didn't move until I motioned for him to take his stuff off. He was wearing the red shirt I'd bought him. The backpack was sitting on the chair. Since he didn't bring it into the kitchen with him, I wondered if it was sitting there when I got home, and I just didn't notice.

Once his shirt was gone, I motioned for him to lie down. I knelt on the floor beside the couch and got to work on the larger wound. It was almost entirely healed already. Pink and scarred but healed. The scars probably wouldn't last long either.

"Jo?" he said as I worked.

"Mm?" I replied.

Then his metal hand moved to the back of my head. He pulled me toward him, and I leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine. I immediately dropped the shears and gripped his shoulders.

"I had to go," he told me.

"I know."

"I didn't want to. It took all of my willpower to leave."

"I know." He didn't release me, but he had nothing else to say. So I held onto him and took advantage of the closeness. I don't think he knew just how much I missed him. I don't think I even knew how much, and I'd already missed him a lot. "Where were you?" I asked after a long pause. He let me go, and I returned to work on the sutures.

"Coordinates," he said.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing. Just the side of a highway."

"What about the book? Have you figured out the rest of the code?"

"Some of it. There were more coordinates. One led to an empty warehouse in Hell's Kitchen. Another in Sokovia. I haven't had time to go that far. I wanted to stay close."

"You went all the way to Ohio and New York and then back?"

"Yes." I shook my head.

"Sheesh. You must be tired."

"I'm not."

"Right. I forgot about that spectacular recovery rate." I moved to a smaller section of stitches. "Well, as your doctor, I recommend at least one night of rest. And some pizza. With no olives." Then I looked back up at him. "For health reasons."

"Of course." We shared a smile before I went back to work.

"I have to go to work in about an hour. Then I'll have to pick up the kid from Arbys. Today was his first day."

"I'm glad to hear that." He sounded genuine. For a moment, I actually believed he was happy for Graham. But he was probably just happy that he was one step closer to moving out.

"Then I'll grab a pizza and come back. Promise me you'll be here when I come home?" He nodded.

"I will."

"Thank you." I continued my work, and he watched me quietly. He didn't seem to be in any pain. I began to work on the stitches in his hair when he spoke again.

"I can't stay for long. I think I have a lead on Russell," he said. I almost paused.

"Really? Where?"

"Less than an hour from here."

"So close?"

"I thought he might try to stick close to you. If we're right about him, he wouldn't want to be too far from you. You haven't been back long. So I searched for newer listings. Someone renting short term, minimal paperwork, names that could be aliases."

"That must not have been easy."

"He has a pattern. Avoids paperwork as much as possible. He sticks to motels and short-term leases, usually on the ground or second-floor level. He's good at faking legal paperwork, but he leaves behind clues. Has different aliases for different purposes. Different names on different bills is a good indicator."

"How do you think he'll react if you show up?"

"If he's anything like last time, he'll have a gun to my head."

"I thought you only remembered his wife. That she led you away from him."

"No, I found them once before. I think—I'm not sure—but I think I might have let them go."

"Why?" He hesitated. He was staring at the cushions and couldn't exactly turn his head, but I could still see him trying to decide what to say.

"I don't know," he lied. I removed the final stitch and ran my finger over the tiny pink scar on his scalp. It would probably be gone in less than a month. I turned his face back toward me, holding onto him as I looked into his eyes.

"You're lying," I stated. He studied me for a moment like he always did. As if I was just another piece of the complex puzzle of his life.

"How can you tell?"

"You hesitated. You took a moment to decide whether or not you should tell me the truth. Why did you let them go?"

"It took too long to track them down," he said. "I was awake too long, and I was starting to remember things. I was starting to develop a sense of—morals—again. She called me by my name. She called me James. It felt—familiar." I smoothed his hair out of his face. He seemed perfectly at ease lying on my couch. His hand rested across his chest, and his fingers gently stroked my arm.

"She got through to you?" He shook his head and looked toward the ceiling. His face was grim, and he'd pinched the sleeve of my shirt between his fingers.

"I couldn't bring her in," he murmured. "I don't think it's because she used my name. But because she was pregnant. Even I knew it wasn't right. I knew they'd do something terrible." He looked back at me. I was stunned into silence for a long moment, and he waited patiently for me to say something. I didn't. Eventually, I turned away and began to clean up the mess. He sat up behind me.

"They never told me. I don't think they knew," he continued. "I let her go. They found out I'd lost her. They made me pay for it. The next time I went after them—I didn't even know who she was. I didn't remember. I had no sympathy anymore." I stood up but kept my eyes off him.

"When did this come back to you?" I asked.

"I went back to the overpass. I remembered it wasn't the first time I'd seen her face." I nodded slowly before heading back toward the kitchen. "You have her eyes," he said. "Not the color. The color is his. Dark. Almost black. Her eyes were lighter. Maybe blue or gray or hazel. I couldn't tell. But the shape. I remember them. They were like yours."

"I...," I started, but my phone started buzzing from my back pocket. I sighed heavily and yanked it out. I didn't need to see the screen to know exactly who it was. I brought it to my ear and continued on my way to the kitchen. "I'm fine," I said.

"Who's in your house?" Tony asked.

"Who's your villain of the week?"

"Hilarious."

"It's my guy friend. Just chill out."

"Not the kid?"

"No, not the kid."

"The other one."

"Yes."

"Is it serious? Should I meet him? You won't even tell me his name."

"I appreciate the protective older brother thing. I promise if it becomes serious, I'll let you meet him. I may even tell you his name first."

"Are you safe? Do you need help? We should have a code word. Clara, what's a good code word?"

"I'm fine. I don't need a code word. I'm an adult with a guy friend who comes around on occasion. Butt out."

"Fine."

"Thanks."

"For now." I groaned.

"I already feel sorry for your gremlin."

"My what?" I hung up and slid the phone back into my pocket.