The Winter Ghost

Part 17

Bucky's breath fanned across your collarbone, drifting in and out of slumber. How he could even attempt sleeping after the day's events was, quite frankly, astonishing. But you didn't dare wake him, afraid you wouldn't get a chance to be this close to him again.

It was easy enough to conclude how you felt about the past few days as confusion. Specifically speaking, you knew it went deeper than that. Your memories had kicked you in the teeth, reeling from the guilt and grief that Tommy was dead and it was all your fault. Yet in the matter of hours, you had fed him to Hydra. You knew exactly what they would do to him when they found out you had escaped. You also knew that when the team circled back to dispose of the Hydra base, or what of it was left, Tommy would be gone. For good this time.

Bucky's body shifted, leaning in closer to you. Your heart raced as a small sigh erupted from his chest, vibrating through you.

And then there was that. You weren't sure when that feeling of butterflies had come back when Bucky looked at you, but nevertheless it had. Part of you thought you should be sorrowful after your 'almost' fiance 'almost' shot you. Maybe take a day for bereavement, and yet, the idea of pressing pause on Bucky, after all this time, felt impossible. More to the point, you were tired of fighting between what you thought was morally right about how your heart beated ten times faster when he was around.

"Do you hate me?" He hesitated under his breath. The rest of the team had all taken their seats at the front of the aircraft. Even still, he spoke as though he was afraid they would hear your confession.

Your eyes met his, looking for some sort of punchline, but none came. Silence hung heavy around his question, and you swallowed deeply.

Did you hate him? There was a time not so long ago that you would have been an easy question to answer. He hadn't stolen the life you thought he had. No, Tommy did that all on his own. He betrayed everything you had built together. He wasn't the man you thought you knew. Bucky, on the other hand, always had been. You knew about his past. He had spent countless nights wrapped in his arms dredging but old and broken memories about his time with Hydra. The only thing you knew for sure was he made you feel like you belonged in a world that you thought had written you off years ago.

Maybe, if you hated anyone, it was yourself. How long had Tommy been lying to you? How could you not have seen it? How many nights had you spent in your bed, giving yourself to him, trusting him, believing him?

"Thats a loaded question." He murmured before you could answer. "I just mean, I miss this... Miss, you."

You worried on your bottom lip, watching as he huffed out a breath and accepting your silence for an obvious answer. Before he could pull away from you, you took his hands in yours, starling him from the sudden warmth.

"I- I don't think I ever hated you." You offered honestly.

Bucky pursed his lips and looked you over quizzically. "Could've fooled me." He chuckled, leaning back into you as his breath steadied again.

"I know I never really got the chance to- uh, apologise..." You tried the word on your tongue, but it tasted bitter. How do you ask for someone's forgiveness after attempting to murder them? "I don't really know what to say..." You mumbled, feeling the walls you built around yourself behind to crumble.

"That's cause' there's nothing to say. Listen doll, of all people you don't need to apologise to me for homicidal tendencies. I get it." He teased. You appreciated his light hearted approach, but his words send a lump to appear in your throat. Was that what it boiled down to? After a long day of dark thoughts and murderous rampages, Bucky would be there to understand. You weren't sure if the sentiment was romantic or the plot to a Tim Burton film.