Positive Regard

Chapter Eighteen

"Rosie, let's go for a walk." Bucky said.
"I can't. I'm filling out this thing Fury gave us." I said from the table as I wrote my birthday. "You need to do yours too."
"I'll do it tomorrow. Come with me."
"I'll come." Steve said from the couch.
"No."
"Well then."
"Come on, Rosie. Isn't that boring? Come with me."
"But it's dark." I looked up at him.
"I know. Come on."
I sighed and put down my pen. "Okay, let's go. Come on."
I followed him out the door and down the street. "Where are we going?"
"On a walk."
He held out his arm, and I took it. It felt kind of like before. I walked on his right, on the opposite side that the traffic was on. He went out of his way to avoid the road my parents and Matt died on, like always. He acted like it would have been feasible for me to avoid that road forever. I've been on it at least a million more times after that.
"Where are we going?" I asked again.
"It's a secret." He smiled.
"Are you... okay?" I looked up at him.
"Yes."
"Are you sure? I mean, yesterday you were running away."
"I wasn't running away, technically. I was..."
"Running away."
"Okay, kind of. But only because I love you."
"You are so full of shit."
"I've always been full of shit." He smiled cheekily.
I asked where we were going again, but he didn't answer. We walked past Granny's house and through the kitchen window I saw two little boys hitting each other. A man at the table looked amused, and a woman looked irritated at both the kids and the man. The house was brick, but they'd painted white over it and it looked pretty good.
"They're moving." Bucky said casually.
"How do you know that?"
"I flew to and from Africa in two days. I had time on my hands." He smiled.
"Did you take me just to see this?"
"No, keep walking."
We kept walking.
"Remember that abandoned house we used to go in when we were kids?" He asked.
"Yeah."
"It's still empty."
"Still?"
"Yeah. We're going in it." He grinned and pulled me down to the road the house was off of.
"We're what? Bucky." I tugged on his arm. "Bucky."
"Still scared of it?" He smirked, amused. "C'mon, doll."
"I know I'm an adult and shit but I don't like it in there. Buchanan."
"Don't call me that."
"Don't make me call you that."
He put his arm around my shoulders and we kept walking. I told him he was an asshole.
"When was the first time we came here?" Bucky asked as he opened the door.
"Not sure. We were eleven maybe." I laughed. "You told Steve to wait outside so he wouldn't inhale dust and die but he went in anyways so you just made him hold his shirt over his nose. You and Matty found a rope and hung it from--"
"There." Bucky pointed to where a fraying rope hung from the top of the staircase. It was broken halfway down from where it broke when Bucky tried to slide down it. "Damn, I busted my ass."
"You know, I always thought it was Matt making the dumb decisions, but the more I think about it, the more I start to think it was you." I tried to stifle my laughter because it echoed and creeped me out. The whole house creeped me out.
"It was his idea to hang the rope. I was the guinea pig." Bucky smiled.
"Good thing you didn't let Steve go first."
"Did he want to?"
"He tried but you told him his mom said not to let him get hurt."
"I fucking hate that I can't remember everything."
"Well, I mean, you're one hundred. I think it's acceptable."
He laughed. "What are they gonna put on our tombstones?"
"That sounds like something to leave up to our descendants." I grabbed onto his hand as he started up the steps. "Where are we going?"
"To the widow's walk."
"You realize this place has been empty for... for a really long time, right? What if the floor falls in?"
"You worry too much."
"I think it's rational."
"Maybe. But rationality's overrated."
"Maybe."
He turned to look at me. "Really?"
"No."
He opened the door to the attic and gestured for me to go in, but I shook my head, so he walked first. "Remember how your dad used to insist on you coming home before dusk unless you were with me or Matt?"
"Yeah."
"Well, nothing's changed. You're still safe with me."
"I've no doubt about your ability to ward of scary guys, but I don't think you can do anything about a house falling in."
"Oh, ye of so little faith. Hey, so, just so we're on the same page..."
"Yes?" I asked. He was about to say something that should scare me, I knew it.
"I can't just sit around and do nothing useful for the rest of my life. I don't know what I'm gonna do, but..."
"You're gonna go back into the military." I said.
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, I don't know. I'm kind of a terrorist and a weapon of mass destruction, so I don't know if that's, you know, allowed, but yeah. Something like that."
I sighed. "You aren't a weapon, Bucky. You're a man."
"I've been a weapon for fifty years."
"I thought it was seventy."
He opened the hatch to the widow's walk and walked up to the top. I followed and he held out his hands to help me up since you practically had to climb the last step. I climbed up and held out my hands to help him even though there really wasn't anything I could do to help. He took my hand but didn't put any pressure on it as he climbed up. I don't know how I ever did that in a skirt.
"Did you look up my dresses when we came up here?" I asked as I turned my face to the sky.
"I'm a gentleman, doll." He tested the railing before leaning his hands on it.
"Liar." I laughed.
He shrugged. "Well."
"Why'd you say fifty years, Bucky?" I touched his arm.
He moved to stand behind me, putting his hands back on the railing and putting his chin on my head.
"Bucky."
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"I'm worrying."
"Well, don't. It's really not a big deal."
"I feel like it is." I wanted to push him off of me and make him look me in the eye, but assuming it was a big deal, I wasn't sure I wanted to see his eyes when he said it.
"It's not. It just took twenty years to... subdue me, I guess you could say."
"Twenty years?" I tried not to sound shocked or too concerned but I knew I did. What the hell kind of person took twenty years of torture to break?
"Why are you breathing so fast?"
"Twenty years?" I repeated. The idea of it terrified me. Who the hell took twenty years to torture into submission? No wonder people said he was the most dangerous man in the world. Steve couldn't do that, and he was freaking Captain America.
I turned around in his arms. He took a couple steps back and put his hands in his pockets. His face didn't look like I was expecting—like when he woke up or couldn't remember something important, like his mom's birthday. His face was blank and his eyes empty, and it was terrifying.
"Bucky?" I asked tentatively. I wasn't scared of him, per say, but I was most definitely scared for him. If I didn't know him, I'd probably be scared of him--I'd definitely be scared of him.
"What?" He asked, his voice kind of cold. He cleared his throat and spoke softer, probably because my eyes got wider. "What?" He repeated, not cold, but still kind of rough. He cleared his throat again and reached out to take my hand. "What?" He asked gently.
I tried not to look concerned, but I was. I didn't know what he wanted to hear from me and I had only one chance to get it right. But his eyes were softer now, so I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. "Okay?" I asked quietly.
He nodded, removing his hand from mine and putting it on my cheek. "Okay."
I smiled a little. "Okay." I nodded and pulled away from him to lay down on the dirty floor.
"What are you doing, babe?"
"Looking at the stars, like we used to. Come down here."
"I don't wanna look at the stars. I wanna look at you." He said, but laid down anyway. He put one arm around me and the other behind his head. I put my head on his shoulder. "Rosie?" He whispered after a minute.
"Hm?"
"I love... I..."
"You what?" I turned my head to look up at him.
"I adore you."
"And I you."
We stayed there for a long while. I started getting cold, but I didn't want to have to leave.
"We should go." I said after a while.
"Okay." He said, but didn't move.
"Why's your heart racing?"
He kissed my head. "You're right. Let's go."
I stood up, and he followed.
"Okay, wait." He said, grabbing my hand. "Hang on."
I turned back around.
He dropped down onto one knee. "Rosie, darling, you're the best, kindest, most beautiful, woman to ever grace this earth, and I... you choosing me has made me the luckiest man. I've seen a lot of shit and I've been through a lot of shit, but if I had to do it all again to be with you, I'd do it. I know I haven't quite been the same, but I hope you know that you're the one thing in this world that stops me from losing it. Do you remember that time... what was it, ninety years ago?" He smiled. "I don't... I can't remember what you were afraid of, but I told you that I'd always protect you. I don't know what the future holds, but I swear to God that whatever it is, you'll never have to be afraid of anything, ever, and that I'll try to be the man you want me to be. I know it sounds cheesy, but I honestly do love you more every day. It's painful, really. But it's, you know, a good pain—a great pain. Will you marry me, Rosie?" He took my hand in his and kissed it. "I'll go to church, and learn to cook, and—"
"Are you bribing me to say yes?" I interrupted.
"You look kinda like you're gonna say no." He smiled a little bit, but he looked almost as uncertain as he did when Steve and I came to his house in Romania.
"Why would I say no?"
"I'd tell you a list but I'm trying to get you to say yes."
"I... Stand up, sweetie." I didn't like looking down at him.
"I'm... not supposed to. This is a proposal."
I smiled. "Stand up, Buck."
He stood and looked at me uneasily.
I pauses and titled my head. "Are you afraid of heights?"
He looked taken aback. "... No. So, uh, yes or no?"
I pulled on the edges of his jacket. "I just... I need to be sure that you won't run off again."
"I know. I panicked. I was scared." He took my hands from his jacket and pulled them up, pressing his lips to my knuckles. "I'm sorry. I screwed up."
I nodded. "Yeah, you did. Did you really think I was gonna give you an easy time?"
"I should've expected it." He smiled.
"Yes, Bucky. I'll marry you."
"Baby... you know that I'm... pretty messed up?"
"Are you trying to talk me out of it or something? I said yes."
"Yeah, but I need to admit and confess and... you know."
"No, you don't."
"I do, Rosie. I really do."
"Then go to a priest. You don't have to confess anything to me."
"The priest isn't gonna share a house with me. You are."
"Okay. You can, if you want. But it doesn't have to be now."
"It needs to be before you commit—"
"I've been committed since 1935, Bucky. Nothing's changed."
"A lot, Rose. A lot has changed. It's freaking 2017 and I've been a weapon for fifty years. I've done unspeakable things and—"
"And it changes nothing, okay? The sooner you get that through your head, the easier your life is gonna be."
"My life shouldn't be easy. I should be miserable and..."
"Let me make it easier." I said quietly.
"I want to. I do. I just... it shouldn't be."
"It should be, Bucky. You're a hero."
"I'm the villain."
"Haven't you watched any movies? Everyone loves the villain—which isn't to say that I think you're a villain. It's just to go along with your ideology, which I in no way endorse."
He smiled and kissed my head. "You're a saint if there ever was one." He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and took the ring out.
"No. Get back on the ground."
He laughed and got back on one knee.
"Say it all again, too."
"Really?"
"No."
He put the ring on the wrong finger, but I wasn't going to say anything. He stood up and kissed me. "I love you, Rosemary."
"I love you."