Nightingale (Sequel to Solider Boy)

Sixty-Two

When Bucky made it back to the apartment, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. His guess had been a toss up between Melody still being fast asleep or her sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, miles away from him even though she was close enough to touch. However, as he entered the apartment, he'd been wrong on both counts.

Melody was awake and though she was perched on the couch, legs drawn up to her chest and staring at the wall, the look on her face wasn't blank, it was pained. Silent tears were streaming down her face.

The apprehension and anger he'd felt since leaving Sharon in the garden drained completely from Bucky and he shut the door behind him and half-ran towards Melody who'd jumped at the sudden noise. 

"What's wrong?" he demanded, dropping the flower he'd collected for her onto the coffee table and cupping her face in his hand. "Are you hurt?" All he'd been thinking about since waking up this morning was getting her to talk, but right now, seeing the clear signs of hurt on her face, that wasn't important. Right now, all he needed was a yes or a no answer. "Melody, are you hurt? I need you to answer me."

Melody made a sort of choking sound and buried her face against her knees. "You were gone."

Bucky's jaw dropped. "You just talked!"

"I woke up and you were gone," her voice was hoarse from lack of use, but even so, he could just barely hear the soft undertones that hinted at the singing voice she didn't often share. "You were gone."

"I-I was just outside, I went to the gardens to get this for you," he held up the flower, scarcely able to speak as he stared at Melody. 

Two weeks of silence and now, finally, she'd said something. He'd come back inside hoping to just get one word, and now he'd gotten thirteen, three of which were merely repeated words but he didn't care. The joy of hearing her voice again made that impossible. It didn't matter what she said, she could've been yelling and cursing like a navy sailor and Bucky wouldn't have cared. Hearing it would've been a blessing.

Melody looked up, tilting her head at the dark blue flower. "What is this?"

"No idea," Bucky said, a wide smile stretching across his face as he offered it to her. "I just thought it was pretty."

She took the flower from him and tentatively ran her fingertips over the petals. "It is." Fifteen words. Bucky's grin, if possible grew even larger and he had no doubt he face was going to start aching soon if he kept this up, but he didn't care about that either. She was talking, Melody was finally talking. 

"I should've told you where I was going," he said, realizing he'd scared her, but being silently thankful he'd kept the morning outing to himself. "I should've realized you'd think I was in the lab. I'm sorry." 

"It's fine," she said, standing up, the flower still held delicately in her hand. "Is there a vase anywhere around here? I'd like to put this in some water."

Bucky tried to keep his face composed but the fact that he was getting so many complete sentences and even questions from Melody made that hard. "I don't think we do, but if you cut the stem down enough a regular glass should work just as well."

"Okay," she turned towards the kitchen and though Bucky knew he didn't need to, he got up as well. He didn't know if this would last and he didn't want to miss anything. 

There was a snick as the blades of a scissors cut through the green stem and thanks to his height, Bucky beat Melody to the cupboard and handed her a tall glass. He held his breath, waiting and a warm sense of hope beating in his chest. And for the first time in two weeks, it wasn't crushed.