Recipe for Romance: A Bucky Barnes Story

26: The Call

Bucky's Turn

The hours of the night slowly seep by. I sit by low lamp-light with a pen in my hand and another leather journal on my lap. Every few minutes my eyes wander over to the sleeping beauty in the usually empty space of my bed. Sadie lies beside me with her hands nestled under her freckled cheek and her dark curls stark against the satin white pillowcase. When I see her I can't help but smile. But then I remember why she's here; in my bed, that is, and I'm no longer in the smiling mood.

A deep, angry huff of hot air puffs out of my mouth. I stare back down at the page in front of me—no longer as interested in documenting details of myself. I've been trying to journal whenever I can. The doctors say it'll help with my memory. I've done it since even before they froze me over: I was always trying to scrap together pieces of a life that I'd forgotten. It was backup for if I ever forgot again. Looking back, I'm not so sure what was so important to put in there. There's only one thing that's important in my life now.

I flip to the next empty page with my sweat-dampened thumb. My pen connects at the start and then the words start rolling.

It's 0400. She sleeps on her side facing me. The shirt I've given her to wear is too big; but I like it when she wears baggy clothes—especially when they're mine. She doesn't snore like I do, but every few minutes she'll let out a soft hum. It's adorable, dammit. Every movement she makes I look to her worried that she's woken up; but she's always just slowly inching closer. I wonder how long it'll take before she's nestled into my side. I know then I'll be able to smell her strawberry shampoo and the baking soda toothpaste she uses. I've been meaning to tell her that I like it when she wears her hair down, but I'm worried she'll mistake it for me not liking it when it's done up. I love it either way. The only thing is, is that when it's down she'll play with the curls—bits wrapped around her pretty little fingers just like she's got me ensnared. And then when the stray bits tickle her nose she crunches it up before rubbing it away with the back of her wrist. When she lies with her head on my lap I like to feel the softness between my fingers. I've lost a lot of sensation from the hard callouses. I hope I never lose the ability to feel her—her hair, her skin, her bottom lip under my thumb. I hope I never lose that. And I hope I never lose her, either. She's the—

A loud, sharp noise like rolling thunder or an emptying magazine shakes me down. I drop the pen and lurch towards the sound. My phone is vibrating on the nightstand.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

I quickly mute the phone. I've got to take it; but not here, not while Sadie's sleeping. Carefully I pry myself out of the covers and away from her radiating warmth. On gentle feet I hurry to the next room where I lock myself out and then press the green little button on screen.

I'm not the first to speak. I refuse to be.

"Sargent Barnes?"

I glance around. "Who's asking?"

"This is Agent Hill from Shield."

I let out a silent breath. I walk my way towards the couch until I can take a seat. "I'm hoping that this is the call to tell me this is all over."

The tone of her voice tells me right away that I'm wrong. "Sargent, we received a call from Tony Stark. We arrived on scene ten minutes after your departure and easily dealt with the aftermath of your altercation."

"There's a point here, and I'm anxious to hear it." I flick a bit of lint from my pant leg.

"My team did some digging into the suspect. Per suggestion of the director I'd like to share the results of our findings with you first; you can make the call to share any or all information with Ms. Schatz."