"A gift." One guard says to someone else in the room as he leaves.
I groan in pain and scrunch myself into a ball, squeezing my eyes shut. Seconds later I hear shuffling and then someone is beside me.
"Y/N?" Asks a voice. No- Bucky's voice.
My whol...
My eyes shoot open. My lungs beg for air, my breathing heavy and desperate. The white sheets on my bed have evidently wrapped themselves around my legs and torso. I slowly regain my composure, every breath a little less strained than the last. After a few much-needed minutes I sit up and run my hands through my hair. Realizing that I'm still wearing my clothes from the night before and that black smudges have been left on my pillows, I yawn and change out the cases before dragging my exhausted self into the shower.
Steaming hot water falls soothingly on my sore shoulders. I tilt back my head, trying to keep the sudds of shampoo from falling into my eyes. There's nothing to distract me in here, and my mind has an awful habit of wandering.
Did I check the time?
Maybe Bucky hasn't left yet, maybe I can... no, the sun's already up.
Shutting my eyes in defeat, I accept the truth.
He's already gone.
The feeling of muted sadness drapes itself suffocatingly gently over me again. My hand finds the shower's handle and turns it to the right. The water turns to an icy cold as it falls off my bare back, shrinking to stray droplets that fall every few minutes with an echoey splash. I take a cleansing breath as I wrap a towel around my torso.
You can't let yourself tune out the world, because it'll hurt just as much when you tune back in.
That's what Bucky said to me after my Mom's funeral. He said it's better to feel the hurt, and then let it pass.
Let's hope he's right.
I walk back into my room only slightly more awake than when I left. Work starts at 7:00, and a glance at my clock lets me know it's already 6:42. I pull my white nurse's uniform that I'm so proud of off its hanger and check it quickly for wrinkles, but of course I don't find any. Slip it on, and then start the unnecessarily hard process of pinning my cap in place. After some struggle it's held securely in my hair. My reflection catches my eyes for just a second. Steve and Bucky have sculpted who I am so much to the point that I can pick apart what's my brother and what's my best friend.
In a way, he hasn't actually left, because he's such a big piece of me
Except he has left and that's naïve schoolgirl talk.
I blink away the weak denial of the present situation.
Opening my eyes again, I find myself grimacing at the tube of red lipstick sitting on my dresser. I'm not in the mood to be getting looks, but the red is vigorously encouraged, which is a nice way of saying it's mandatory. I swipe it onto my lips with a groan.
My stomach growls. It's 6:51.
I'll still catch my train if I get out of here in the next couple minutes
I walk into the kitchen to grab an apple or something else I can eat on my way when I spot the sheet of paper lying on the counter.
Not just paper, a note.
A note from Steve.
___________________________
Y/N-
Hey little sister. I'm writing this because I know you'd kill me if I said it to your face. I've joined the army. I'm in Jersey for training, but that's about the most I can tell you now.
I love you.
Your brother, Steve
P.S.- Bucky says he's sorry, and that he'll miss you
___________________________
...What?
No, no this can't be right.
My eyes dart over his near scribbled handwriting again but there's no mistake.
Oh god
Oh god they took him
I sink to the ground, the world disappearing around me.
He's lying. He has to be.
No, he's not, because he can't. And the fact he's telling the truth just makes me feel just that much worse.
They're out there now, both of them. The two people I love the most could lose their lives at any second and I'd have no way of knowing. The feeling of being alone and by myself for the first time is really setting in. I want to throw up. Time feels like it's stopped, but I know it hasn't. I glance again at my watch. 7:02.
"Shit!" I swear loudly, shoving the note into my pocket and rushing out the door, completely forgetting about the apple.
...
The day is a blur. I go about fulfilling my duties, though not as well as I should. If anything exciting happens I don't have the mind to notice it. I'm still processing the fact that Steve's apartment is empty. And that it's going to be for a while, if not forever.
No. Don't think like that.
At lunch I can't find my appetite. I feel sick again, so I go to the bathroom with the intention of being alone, but I end up puking. I kneel over the toilet, coughing and trying to collect myself. Stray tears fall from my eyes as I cry silently, finally breaking under the weight of it all. After a few heavy breaths, I gather my dignity and stand up, and dig through my bag for a mint. I find one and put it in my mouth, exhaling and leaning against the wall.
"1...2...3..." I count to myself, closing my eyes. It's always been how I've calmed myself down. Bucky said himself he'd take care of Steve, I just have to trust him. I tell myself Steve'll be ok, even if it feels like I'm lying.
I open my eyes again and look for a distraction, finding the poster hung on the wall.
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I read it over, and just like that, it's as if a bulb has gone off above my head.
