Nightingale (Sequel to Solider Boy)

Five

Little punk, Bucky seethed as he sat out on the balcony, blood pounding in his ears as a flock of colorful birds flew through the afternoon sky. As much as he loved Steve, he'd never met a more stubbornly annoying person in his life. Bucky had told him, in no uncertain terms that he was done with the lab and treatments that didn't work and yet he still endeavored to invite yet another worthless doctor to take a look at him.  He doesn't get it, Bucky thought, exhaustion hitting like a wave and mixing with the anger. It was easy for Steve to say they'd get it next time; he wasn't a human lab rat. He didn't have to endure every failed attempt, hoping that he'd finally be free and then being let down every time. It was a lot harder to have patience when the roles were different but he couldn't seem to get that through his head. That had been what led to Bucky kicking him out of his apartment fifteen minutes ago. He was done playing nicely and letting Steve slide by just because he meant well. 

A knock sounded at the door, almost timid but Bucky wasn't ready to hear an apology either. "Go away Steve."

"I'm not Steve."

Bucky jumped to his feet, heart stopping as he turned towards the door. I have to be dreaming, he thought, pinching himself even as he had the thought. The immediate response of pain told him he was wrong. He wasn't dreaming. He really was hearing Melody's voice. She can't be here, he thought even as he walked back inside and opened the door. It's not possible.

But he was wrong. Standing outside the door was Melody Frasier. "Hey," Bucky said, throat dry as he stared at her. She'd changed, if only slightly. Her blonde hair was slightly shorter and framed her face more. Surely, the change was a sign that this wasn't a dream. In his dreams, Melody always looked exactly as he remembered her. 

"Hi," Melody said back, smiling shyly at him. "Can I come in, or are you still going to refuse to see me?"

Bucky stepped aside instantly and Melody's smile widened. Suddenly, she didn't look so tired. "Glad we're on the same page." She stepped past him, still smiling as Bucky shut the door behind him, still convinced he was awake as she paused and looked around the small apartment and for several moments, they were both silent and the tension was like a cloud of smoke in the air.

"You changed your hair," he said finally, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "It's shorter now."

"Oh, yeah," Melody twisted a strand of hair of around her finger, her gaze drifting away. "I got it cut last week."

"Looks good."

"Thanks." Another pause hit their conversation and stayed until Melody looked at him again. "You grew a beard."

Bucky laughed. "Yeah, I did." 

"You lost your arm," she remarked, moving towards him as she examined the damage. "When you called, you said you weren't hurt." Her fingers tapped against what remained of the metal and though Bucky couldn't feel it, an electric shock ran through his entire body. This close he could smell the coffee on her breath. 

Bucky shook his head, trying frantically to find his voice. "I-I didn't lie."

"This couldn't have felt good, whatever happened."

"It didn't," he admitted. "But it wasn't a life-threatening wound. I assumed that was what you wanted to know about. That's always your first concern, isn't it Doctor Frasier?" 

She half-smiled at the use of her title. "Melody," she corrected, her voice soft. Her fingers slide across the metal, making a hushed sort of sound. In a fraction of a second, Bucky felt her touching his collar, her fingers were, most unusually, very cold but that wasn't the reason his breath hitched.

"Melody," he affirmed.

She smiled at him and slid just a little closer. Their shoulders were touching now.  "James," a jolt went through Bucky hearing that. He'd always hated his given name, but he loved it when she said it.

"Yes?" 

"I've really missed you," her voice cracked little, tears welling up in her eyes and that was all Bucky needed. He reached out and grabbed her waist so he could pull her close enough to kiss her. Melody seemed to read his mind as her arms wrapped around his neck as their lips met.  A bitter taste of coffee clung to Melody-odd given the late hour of the day, but so familiar, she'd always tasted like coffee when they'd kiss goodbye before she left for work. Smiling against her mouth, he moved his hand, tracing her shape before he ran his fingers through her hair. Though her style had changed, the softness was the same as it had always been. 

"I've missed you too," Bucky whispered as they broke apart, a bit light headed but it was a pleasant sensation either way. "So much."

"I can breathe again," Melody said into his chest, half yawning as she did. 

Bucky laughed. "How long has it been since you got any sleep?"

"Doesn't matter," she said too fast to be convincing. "I still have another few hours in me. Come on, let's talk." She pulled him by the hand towards the couch and Bucky allowed himself to be lead as she settled onto the cushions and looked at him with shining eyes. 

"So, what brought you here?" he asked, lacing his fingers through hers. "You're not a neurosurgeon."

"No, but neither Steve nor Sharon are taking your giving up very well. She thought you'd at least listen to me if I told you about the treatment options you had."

"Are you going to tell me about them?"

"Do you want to hear them?"

"No."

"Then no."

"No?" Bucky was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice as he stared at Melody. Giving up so easily was not like her at all. 

"As you rightly pointed out, I am not a neurosurgeon," she replied with a smile. "Nor do I have any experience with how to remove brainwashing. If you had a tumor I'd actually be way more useful." She shrugged. "Like I said, neither party is taking this well and they're getting desperate."

"So what can you do then?"

"Explain the science jargon and be emotionally supportive."

"That frustrates you, doesn't it?"

"It's a miracle I haven't started grinding my teeth yet," Melody replied, yawning loudly and Bucky laughed.

"Let me guess, you worked another double shift before getting on the plane."

"No, just adjusting to the time zone." She yawned again and stretched, eyes half open. "It's midnight in New York right now." 

"Couldn't you have slept on the flight?"

"I hate flying," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "But it doesn't matter, I'll be fine."

"If you're tired you should sleep."

"I'll never adjust if I do." She paused for a second and then perked up, looking hopefully back at the little kitchen. "Do you have any coffee?

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Thanks for reading! :)