Steve hesitantly raised his hand to the door. He cast a glance at their bedraggled group, all exhausted and weary to the bone. It was supposed to be simple. Get in get out. Due to an error in information they were now facing the hardest part, breaking the news of their failure to the hopeful families.
Clint hugged the tattered material closer to his chest and Maria, sporting several scorch marks and leaning heavily on her crutch, gave a minuscule nod before sighing wearily. Steve thumped his fist against the wood, once, twice, three times. A shuffling came from behind the door and there was a moment of silence, presumably the person looking through the peep hole, before the sound of locks and key chains were heard being drawn across. The door cracked open.
"I know you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. The person behind the door recognised the three soldiers. They were his partner's friends. He swung the door open and stood arms crossed across his chest, staring both in fear of what might be said but also in hope that he'd receive news of his Natalia.
"Are you James Buchanan Barnes?"
"Call me Bucky."
"Right." Steve peered around the man and into the apartment. It was sparsely decorated, everything practical. The only sentimental touches were the images of a smiling couple and the small pots of plants placed strategically by bare walls. "Can we come in?"
"Where's Natalia?"
"Who?"
"He means Tasha Steve." Clint squeezed the material tightly before hesitantly holding it out. His eyes clung to it as Bucky reached out a hand and took it off him. He shook it out and clouts of dirt and ash spiralled onto the floor. It was a severely burnt jacket. An army jacket, the serial numbers no longer legible due to the fire damage. He didn't need to know the digits though. He knew who's jacket this was and he knew what it meant.
"Tell me it's not true." He looked desperately between the three. Maria only looked away whilst tears slipped down Clint's cheeks. Steve made to pat Bucky on the shoulder but his hand was batted aside. "TELL ME IT'S NOT TRUE!" His voice echoed down the hall in anger, but underneath that rage was the unmistakable sound of desperation and denial. It couldn't be true.
He pressed the jacket into his face and inhaled the scent of singed cloth. However, underneath that smell of fire and death was the slight whiff of sweet sweat and lavender, her scent. He managed to choke out at them to leave before slamming the door and sinking to his knees, tearing out his hair and clutching her jacket. He rocked back and forth whilst tears streamed in a seemingly endless torrent. He threw his head back and howled in misery, his whole body hunching with the force of his sobs.
Grief turned to rage and he threw himself at the nearby dresser, slamming it to pieces and hurling the picture to the ground. He continued to destroy the apartment, ripping and kicking and screaming. She couldn't be gone. She was his everything.
When his anger finally simmered down he grew quiet. His energy was spent and his body was dehydrated. He glanced around at the destruction he had caused and immediately felt regret.
Stooping over, he brushed off the smashed glass and picked up the ugly blanket with hideous puff balls. It had been her favourite. He folded the fabric carefully and buried his head into it, hiding the slow tears that had started to fall.
He wiped his eyes and sniffed, draping the awful blanket over the back of the sofa, just like she used to do. He leaned over and carefully picked up one of the photos. The glass was cracked and the frame was damaged but the image was perfect. One single moment capturing all her beauty, yet he was sure that if he saw her now she would be even more beautiful. He caressed the picture gently, droplets rolling down his cheek and splashing onto the image of her.
Even though it was in black and white he could still picture her so clearly. It was the beginning of Autumn and the leaves had fallen in piles perfect for jumping in. She'd been bundled up in her coat, hat, scarf, gloves and several other layers, only her pink nose and rosy cheeks exposed to the crisp air. He remembered the twinkling of her eyes as she pulled him along, laughing in delight as he let her.
It had been before she'd left. Gone to fight. He'd begged her to stay but understood why she couldn't. Now he wished he'd tried harder. He remembered looping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close, so thankful for the beautiful girl he got to call his own. She had snaked her arms around his neck and smiled in pure happiness. He remembered her expression of complete, naked joy as she danced through the bright trees. He'd chuckled fondly at the simple pleasure she took in kicking up piles of fallen leaves and making loud crunching noises as she stomped all over them. She'd tried to convince him to join her but he'd grinned ruefully and shaken his head. Now he wished he had taken her up on the offer. Now he'd never get the chance.
Happy memories created a deep ache inside him. A deep ache he know would never be satisfied, he know could never be satisfied. She was his whole world, his life, and now his world had gone up in smoke. Quite literally it seemed. He missed her. Missed her with such a passion that it gnawed away at his very core and drove him to screaming her name and hugging her memory. He needed her. He needed his beautiful Autumn. He needed his Natalia.
