Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

37

When Bucky opened Uxolo's front door to nothing but darkness, his adrenaline kicked in. Hard.

He'd only been a couple minutes late. He had spent too long in the training area; when his alarm sounded he shut it off without stopping, willing himself to do just a couple more reps. Everything — the combination of his nightmares and her overwhelming kindness, the positive turn in their relationship — had left him feeling a bit untethered, and the static in his brain had still been too loud for him to want to stop.

When he finally put the weights away he spent too long in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his exhausted muscles. He had tried to call once he left his own place, the heads up she had asked for, but she hadn't texted back. That hadn't been alert enough, for him, since she was the busiest person he'd met, to-date. How she even managed to carve out time to have lunch with him every day was beyond his capabilities of understanding.

But when he opened the door, there was nothing.

Bucky's voice echoed in the emptiness when he called her name. He repeated himself, louder this time, to no response. He shut the door quietly behind him, every possible scenario playing through his head. There had been no sign of a break in, and he hadn't seen anything unusual on his way in. But he'd been so far away that if anything happened he wouldn't have heard it, and they would've covered their tracks by now— fuck, if she'd been hurt because he hadn't been there, because he was too busy worrying about his own feelings in the gym a mile away — he shook the thought from his mind and canvassed the place, rounding each corner with immense caution. He didn't have any weapons on him except for the one that was built in, but that would be enough. It always was.

The kitchen and living room were unused. The bathroom door was open. The laundry room door was closed, like she always left it, so was her bedroom door — but that was unusual. Bucky remembered having to force himself to keep from peeking within her open bedroom, satisfying the part of him that wondered if her almost extreme maturity traversed to her most personal places.

So Bucky slammed her door open with his elbow, expecting more resistance than it gave. He looked around the dim room and his hammering heart slowly returned the blood that had drained from his face.

Uxolo was okay. She'd been lying on her bed, flat on her back on top of the fluffy comforter, her arms resting across her face. She was here, she was fine, she just hadn't heard him. His breath shook as he exhaled.

The blankets poofed up around Bucky when he sank down onto the foot of her bed. Her eyes flew open at the sudden weight, and when her gaze settled on Bucky the adrenaline pumped through his body in another ravenous round. Her tired eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks puffy.

"Hey," Uxolo said shakily as she propped hersf up on her elbows. "Bast, is it lunch time already? I lost track of time..."

She started to crawl off the bed, but Bucky stopped her with a hand on her calf. "What's wrong?"

"I woke up rather sick, this morning," She said, shaking her head. "I had a lot of trouble getting out of bed, so—"

Bucky let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He willed his heartbeat to slow down, thankful that she couldn't hear it like he could hear hers. They were in the most technologically and medically advanced places in the world; if there was anything worrisome going on with her health, they were on in best place to handle it. His grip on her leg eased up and she pulled herself to a sitting position, her legs crossed in front of her.

Uxolo reached up to feather her fingers through the hair at the front of her head, wincing as she carefully pulled away some knots. She'd removed the added hair a week or so ago, and had taken to wearing her natural hair in various styles. Bucky supposed she hadn't been able to care for it in that meticulous way she usually did, due to her sudden sickness.