Gold to Airy Thinness Beat

Chapter Forty-One

"Nine."

Stephanie blinked in surprise and looked down to where wetness was beginning to seep through her jacket, oozing from a moderately deep gash running along her side. A searing pain started to spread out from the cut and she grimaced. She'd dropped her gun in surprise at the shot and Bucky had grabbed it and shoved it, sending it sliding under the desk.

He grabbed her face suddenly between his hands and turned her head to look at him. "What the hell," he asked, "was that?"

Stephanie looked over his shoulder and saw a dark-haired woman, gun clutched in both hands, her eyes wide and her face pale.

Carter, the name came hazily. Peggy Carter.

"I'm so sorry," Peggy said, coming forward to kneel beside Bucky. "It's just a graze. I didn't know how else to stop you. You were going to--"

"Shoot yourself," Bucky growled. "What the hell? Since when has that ever been an option?"

"Since you were going to let me shoot you!" Stephanie challenged and he gave her an incredulous look.

"You weren't going to shoot me!"

"You didn't know that," Stephanie insisted.

"You still had the safety on!" he retorted. "I'm pretty sure I did know! I--" His eyes went wide and zeroed in on her face. "Steph?" he whispered, voice almost pleading.

"Well it's not the damn Fist of Hydra," Stephanie muttered. Her memories were hazy and hard to grab but she seemed to vaguely remember getting her mind back a few other times, always after a physical trauma of some sort. Apparently getting grazed by a bullet counted.

"Benign."

More memory crashed back in and she sucked in a sharp breath as she recognized the words being spoken over the loudspeaker. She went to cover her ears with her hands only to realize, to her horror, she physically couldn't do it. She turned her eyes to Bucky, opening her mouth to tell him, and no words came out. She tried again and the words caught in her throat as if they were being physically held back.

Despair settled over her. Schmidt wouldn't want his new toy resisting him so easily. Of course he would add in programming that would prevent her from resisting him, or asking for help from anyone who could.

"One."

""You did the right thing," she told Carter, resigned. The other woman didn't seem to have noticed the loudspeaker and Bucky was staring into her eyes with all the wonder of a child on Christmas who'd just received the one thing they had dearly wanted but never believed they would have. Knowing she only had seconds, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, the contact briefly filling a deep, gaping hole in her heart. She gave a sound that was nearly a sob and said, "You need to let me go." Chasing after her the way he'd been doing, putting himself at risk...it was going to get him hurt. She was going to get him hurt.

"How can I?" Bucky whispered. "I just got you back."

"No," Stephanie said gently, taking his face in her hands. "You didn't."

"Homecoming."

"What did he say?" Peggy asked, frowning toward the loudspeaker.

"What did who say?" Bucky replied, his focus still solely on his wife.

Stephanie felt her gut clench in fear. She dragged him close and kissed him with all the desperation and despair of a drowning woman who knew no help would be coming. She kissed him with the knowledge it might well be the final time.

She kissed him as if she were losing him.

Then, before her willpower gave out, she pulled free, scrambled to her feet and stepped back several feet from them both. Bucky looked up at her in confusion and she forced herself to turn her attention to Peggy.

"Next time," she ordered, "don't you dare miss."

Peggy frowned, "What?"

Stephanie forced herself to smile at her husband, even as she backed away, even as her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her right palm until it hurt.

Bucky scrambled to his feet and she shook her head, stopping him. She was still crying and didn't care, just kept her eyes locked with his, wanting him to be the last thing she saw before Schmidt took her away again.

Bucky shook his head and then walked forward, reaching out for her.

Physically unable to stop herself, Stephanie reached out to lightly brush a wayward lock of hair off his forehead. She gripped his shoulders and leaned forward to press her lips gently against his forehead before letting him go and stepping back. "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," she said softly and saw his eyes widen in recognition and horror. "Good-bye."

"Freight Car."