Run (A Bucky Barnes Recovery Story)

69 Different

His arm also wasn’t waterproof. It actually couldn’t lift much at all and it overstressed rather quickly. If he held it the wrong way, it caused Bucky a significant amount of pain. Bucky was quickly becoming disenchanted. But despite all this, he had to admit how much he’d missed using two arms. He realized how much he had been avoiding his reflection, thinking about how broken he looked, and now, even though this arm was a nuisance and less human and painful, at least he was put together again and he could stand to look at himself.

And despite everything, he still found himself at Natasha’s door later that day, pressing the button and waiting. He didn’t know what he was doing, but although he was hurt, he found that he forgot to be angry around her.

She opened the door fast, before he had expected, and he felt as though he hadn’t had time to adequately prepare himself for seeing her. Oh, she was beautiful. He wanted to close his eyes, try to remember seeing her face through the eyes of the Winter Soldier, but he was afraid of what might happen if he did. Maybe this had been what Natasha was trying to protect him from. Or maybe her secret-keeping was selfish. He still wasn’t sure.

Natasha’s face was a mixture of confusion and sadness and other emotions Bucky couldn’t label as they looked at each other.

“James,” Natasha said and she sounded so terribly sad.

“I wanted to show you this,” Bucky said and held up his left arm in front of him. “Tony made it. I thought you’d want to see, was all.” Natasha stepped outside cautiously and Bucky stepped forward, trying to let her know that he was okay with her being close to him, and then she took his hand in hers and examined it.

“Is it better than your last one?” She asked and he scoffed.

“No. It’s slow and it’s fragile and it hurts. But it’s something,” he said.

“It hurts?” Natasha said, alarmed, looking up at him. She was so beautiful. He looked away from her face and nodded.

“I have to be careful how I turn it. Tony said it doesn’t match the socket,” he said.

“And what’s this?” Natasha continued to examine, touching and holding up the cord that swung under his elbow. Bucky tried to stifle a grin with how silly it was.

“That’s, uh,” he smiled. “You know, I really don’t know. But it does something.” Natasha grinned, looking down now at the exposed parts on his forearm and all Bucky could hear was the small whirring and clicking sounds the arm made when it wasn’t doing anything.

“I’m sorry it’s not your other arm, James,” Natasha said and Bucky frowned and nodded quietly.

“Yeah, I am, too,” he said. “But I’ll get it back.” It was Natasha’s turn to nod now and she looked up at his face.

“I know you will,” she said. Gently, Bucky pulled his arm away from her and began to step back, began to walk away. He missed her too much and the pain of seeing her now was beginning to overwhelm him. It was time to leave. He thought of how he had forgiven Steve, and it was easier with Steve, because Bucky knew he had only meant well and it hadn’t exactly been his secret to tell. But Natasha… She was supposed to understand. She was supposed to be forthright with him. It was the hiddenness of his past that she had concealed and no matter how easy it seemed to be to forget the hurt when he found himself in her eyes, he had to remind himself that he couldn’t trust her. Everything was different now.

But Bucky still felt torn because he missed her and he felt as though he needed her and now, he didn’t know how long he had left with the memories he had of her, what with the slipping of his mind down a slope.

He didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that in the end, everything hurt.

“Can we talk about this?” Natasha asked hastily before Bucky left. He turned to her expectantly, a few steps down the hall now and almost at his own door.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “What would you like to say?” Natasha met his eyes.

“I just want to say I’m sorry,” she said.

“Thank you,” Bucky replied and he thought she would continue, but she looked away and swallowed, beginning to back into her doorway again. He watched her.

“If things could be like they were…,” Natasha said and she was almost so quiet that he didn’t hear her.

“They can’t,” Bucky replied.

“Never?” She said. She was halfway into her room now, holding the door frame and looking towards him. Bucky looked down and shifted his feet. Between his feelings of inadequacy and the broken trust between them, he genuinely wasn’t sure.

“Steve…,” Bucky started quietly, realizing that this would be one of those times where he would have difficulty expressing exactly what he wanted to say. “Steve said that things can change and you can still be you. Maybe we don’t want things to be like they were, in the long run.”

“I thought we were happy,” Natasha said.

“We were,” Bucky said. “But that’s not what I mean. Maybe we can never be the same, but maybe that won’t be a bad thing. Maybe we can be a different kind of happy.” It was true that happiness was a field that Bucky was only beginning to examine, but he knew he wanted Natasha in his life. He just didn’t know how anymore and that was what they had to learn.

“Can I prove myself to you? Make it up to you?” Natasha asked and Bucky looked away, letting out a breath. He honestly wasn’t sure. These were difficult questions.

“I hope, Nat,” he said. “I want to forgive you, you know.”

“How?” She asked desperately. She was leaning on the doorframe now, closer to him. “How do I fix this??” Bucky shook his head, looking at her.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I could tell you, but I really don’t know.” Natasha looked down at the carpet in quiet thought. Bucky put his hands in his pockets as he looked at her and waited.

“I love you,” she said to him.

“I love you, too,” he replied.