The Fall - Book 1

102. Can I...can I hold you?

⚠️ TW: mention of SA ⚠️

JUNE 22, 2019 — AVENGERS COMPOUND — BUCKY

"Finally, I can see the compound!" Sam whoops. "The first sixty miles weren't so bad, since we hot-wired that truck, but then Steve's conscience decided to go all Jiminy Cricket, and we've been walking for..." he pauses, checking his watch, "ten and a half hours! I'm gonna take a shower and fall face-first into my wonderful, comfortable, fantastic bed. And since it's now two A.M., I am not waking up early! No way!"

I roll my eyes.

"Always with the dramatics, Sam," I say.

"Yeah, well, I've gotta compensate for your boring, grumpy ass," Sam retorts.

Steve chuckles, and makes a comment to Sam that he knows he won't sleep through breakfast. The two of them banter; I tune them out, turning my thoughts to Réa.

'I need to tell her how I feel. I can't keep putting it off. This is the second close call, and I need her to know that I love her...she deserves to know.'

Just as Sam, Steve, and I reach the front of the building, the doors fly open. I see Réa sprinting through them, her copper waves streaming behind her, before she launches herself at me. I immediately catch her; I'm surprised when she wraps her arms and legs around me and holds on like she doesn't want to ever let go. I feel her bury her face in the crook of my neck and inhale. I close my eyes and turn my face into her hair, breathing in her scent; the combination of spun sugar and raspberries soothes me, even as tears fill my eyes.

'God, I've missed her...I've missed her so, so much,' I think.

Soft sniffling brings me back to the present. Turning my head toward the sound, I see that everyone else has made their way outside. I notice Pepper, Nat, and Wanda watching me and Réa with tears in their eyes and their hands over their mouths, clearly moved by Réa willingly making physical contact with someone for the first time in seven months. I also notice that Réa seems oblivious to anyone but me; not wanting the moment between the two of us to end, I start inside.

"Steve. Sam. You two do the debrief," I say.

Without waiting for a response, I carry Réa through the compound to her room; the whole time, she stays wrapped around me and keeps her face buried in the crook of my neck.

After I close her door, I walk over to the couch, stopping beside it.

"Réa," I say. "I'm going to sit down now. Do you want to stay like this or...?" I trail off.

I don't want her to let go; I want her to stay in my arms, but I need to give her the choice.

I feel her tense, before she releases me and sits at one end of the couch; I take the other end, trying to squash the dual pangs of disappointment and heartbreak I feel.

It's not about me. I know that...I know that. But I just...I want to hold her; to let her know that she's protected, and safe...and loved.

'What makes you think she'd feel that way?' something inside me says. 'Protected and safe, maybe...but loved? You haven't said the words to her; why would she feel loved when you haven't ever told her you love her?'

As the thoughts fill my mind, I watch Réa maneuver so she's wedged in the corner of the couch, between the arm and back. She brings her knees up to her chest and pulls her hoodie over them before wrapping her arms around her shins. She places her head on her knees, and lets her hair fall in front of her face.

Unsure of what to say or do, I sit silently, just watching her. After what feels like an eternity, she speaks.

"Sorry," she mumbles, and I hear the slight catch in her voice.

'Oh, sweetheart....' I think as something catches in my chest.

"It's okay, Réa," I softly reply.

"I-it's just...I was so relieved that you're back, and that you're safe, and when I saw you I didn't think. I just reacted. And I just...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," she manages to get out before she starts to cry. I watch as she curls herself into a tighter ball while she cries.

I don't know what to do; my first instinct is to wrap her back up in my arms, but I don't know if she'd even let me. I know why she's apologizing—why she thinks she'd even need to—and, as they've done many times over the past seven months, Nat's words from the day Réa was placed in the coma replay in my mind.

"A lot of sexual assault survivors report feeling 'dirty' or 'unclean'. They can't bear to touch or to be touched—because, in their minds, they wonder why anyone would want to have physical contact with someone quote-dirty-unquote. They think people will be disgusted by them. This is especially true of the ones who, on some level, feel like they're to blame for what happened. Imagine wanting a hug for comfort but being unable to tolerate one; feeling like you're worthy of neither the hug nor the comfort." 

Just like it always does, the idea of Réa thinking of herself this way breaks my heart. Tears prick my eyes, and I blink them back. Once I'm sure I can speak steadily, I do.

"Réa," I say softly, waiting as her sobs lessen. 

I hear her draw in a shaky breath.

"Y-yeah?" she asks, her tone tentative.

"Can I...can I hold you?"

Immediately after I ask, I wonder if I should have.

'She didn't want me to earlier; she climbed out of my arms and wedged herself into the corner. But I've asked now; I can't undo that,' I think.

I wait, not taking my eyes off of her; I see her nod before she speaks.

"Yes," she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper.

I slowly slide to the center of the couch, before gently lifting Réa onto my lap and wrapping my arms around her. I feel her body tense, her muscles going taut as a bowstring.

'Oh, doll,' I think, an ache in my chest. 'Maybe I shouldn't...she said 'yes', but maybe this is too much for her.'

I sit there, at war with myself; my internal debate is interrupted when I feel Réa's muscles relax. Her head falls against my shoulder, and I realize she's fallen asleep. My heart swells, and I gently lay my cheek on top of her head as my eyes mist.

'She fell asleep, in my arms!' I think, unable to ignore the happiness I feel at the fact that, even after everything, she still has enough trust in me to sleep curled up in my lap.

I slowly lean back on the couch, careful not to jostle her. Once I'm settled, I close my eyes, and it's not long before sleep claims me, too.