From Darkness

Twenty-Two

I worked for what felt like hours, only speaking when handing out instructions or asking for more light and supplies. Bucky stayed at my side, handing things over ask I asked for them. The older woman came and went as she brought me towels and more hot water when it cooled or got too bloody. Dana stayed at the head of the bed, talking to Ivan to keep him calm. But since he was high on opiates, I really wasn't worried anymore. I think it just eased her anxiety to have a job to do.

I didn't speak until I finished. I double and triple-checked both wounds just to make sure I'd gotten everything I could see and that they were clear. Then I dumped the scissors onto the nightstand and leaned my elbows on my knees. My hands were covered in blood, and my fingers ached. The room went completely silent. Until Bucky moved to stand in front of me and swept fallen hair back out of my face. I shut my eyes and leaned into his hand. No one ever said anything about the metal.

"He doesn't look any better," Dana said. I shook my head.

"It's too soon to tell," I told her. "We just have to keep an eye on him. Keep checking his temperature. Try to get it down. We'll know how he's doing after a few hours." I leaned my head on Bucky's hip. I wanted to go clean up, but I didn't even want to move now that I was done.

"I didn't know you were so talented," she said. Then she sniffed. "I feel like this is all my fault."

"It's not your fault."

"I tried to close the wounds. I didn't think it would get infected.

"There are multiple contributing factors. The room isn't sterile, the equipment wasn't sterile. Even if it was, the surgery was invasive. Bacteria find a way. Even in a hospital operating room. They can just catch it quicker."

"I should have just let you do it from the start. At least you know how to watch out for that sort of thing."

"I wouldn't have been able to. My fingers were shaking. I was straining to keep my head up. Besides—I'm the one who shot him in the first place." There was silence again, and Bucky's hand moved to my shoulder. It was almost like he was trying to shield me just in case she leaped over Ivan and tried to choke me. Of course, she didn't.

"He told me," she whispered.

"You need to get cleaned up," Bucky said. "You haven't eaten."

"I still have to clean up this mess and...."

"Jo." I opened my eyes again and looked up at him. "I'll take care of him. Take a break." I nodded slowly, and he stepped away so I could stand. The older woman reached out for me. She took me by the elbow and guided me back out of the room.

I cleaned up as quickly as I could. She went back to the kitchen to make us something to eat since none of us got the chance. Bucky went to help her once everything was clean, and that left Dana and me alone in the small confined room. She stayed at the head of the bed, and I crossed the room to close the curtains and shut the window.

"I'm sorry for hurting your feelings last night," she said, watching me. I nodded.

"I know," I told her.

"You were right. It was wrong for me to judge you. You've been through a lot. I understand that some people like to keep their distance when they're suffering." I sat on the chair and faced her, but I kept my eyes on Ivan. He was still red and unconscious, breathing shallow and even. It was probably thanks to the drugs.

"Are you apologizing because you caught us in the shed?" I questioned. She laughed lightly, keeping her hand on Ivan's head. She held a rag to cool him off, but the touch was much gentler and more tender than I expected from someone who barely knew him.

"No. Although that did catch me by surprise. I just felt guilty for upsetting you. Beata wouldn't have wanted me to be mean to you."

"We both said hurtful things." She chewed on her lip and looked away. "You were close, weren't you? You and Beata?" She nodded and looked back at me. She looked as exhausted as I felt.

"She probably saw me as more of an annoying younger sister, but I looked up to her a lot. I wanted to be just like her," she said. "But she was always smarter than me. Always knew who she wanted to be and what she wanted to do. Ivan was her rebellion."

"I know what that's like. My sister—I mean—biologically, I guess she's my cousin, but I didn't know that until recently. Anyway, it's like that with us too. She's always been more grounded than me. I really looked up to her. She always seems to have everything together. But I also thought she was just perfect. Never did anything wild or unusual. Until I found out she was dating Iron Man and has had her nose pierced since college. She was just good at hiding her rebellion, I guess. Better than I was." She snorted a laugh. "What I mean to say is—I understand why you don't like me. I wouldn't like me either. And I shouldn't have said what I said." She shook her head.

"It's not that I don't like you. I'm just—still very angry at her. My parents forgave her. Probably from the start. But I held onto that resentment for so long. She made so many mistakes that we're still paying for. And then she left us here alone. She ran off and had a baby and died. My mother always says that forgiving her will free my conscious but—I don't feel like it will. I'll be fifty-one this year, and I've never been given a chance to have a normal life. I spent so much time taking care of my parents and trying to survive through Beata's mistakes that life just passed me by. She died young, and she had everything. It's unfair that I have to live so long and have nothing."

She was looking down at Ivan again, and all I could do was nod. She needed to get it off her chest. And I didn't think her mom gave her many chances to do it. Especially since she'd clearly held onto her anger for so long. She didn't like me because she needed someone to blame, and Beata wasn't there. And Ivan couldn't be blamed because he was so sick. So she'd turned it on me. And I understood. I'd listen because I knew what it was like to just need it.

"I'd be angry too," I told her. Then I thought about what Bucky said to me. "You're allowed to be angry. You don't have to forgive anyone."

She took a deep, shaky breath and kept her hand on Ivan's head, gently caressing his forehead with her thumb. I didn't get the feeling that she was one hundred percent honest about not getting to experience certain things, but I wasn't going to point it out.

"Why didn't you ever just—change your name?" I asked instead. She looked up.

"I did. We all did. But it's hard to get close to someone when you can't even tell them who you really are. You feel like you can't trust anyone. And at what point do you say to them that you've lied about who you are? How can you fall in love with someone or raise a family knowing that it might all end at any moment? That their DNA alone makes them a target? I couldn't do what Beata did to you."

"I guess I understand that too. Probably better than anything else. But—they got what they wanted. They took it from me. So I don't think you have to be afraid anymore. You still have a chance. Being in your fifties isn't the end." She smiled at me.

"Coming from someone so young, I find that hard to believe." I laughed.

"I don't feel young. Not anymore."

"You've had a hard life. You don't act young either. Except for the fooling around in the shed thing." Then I really laughed, and she smiled. "Beata would have called you an old soul. For as scientific as she was—she really loved stories like that. Romance and trolls and soulmates and the like."

"Damaged goods more like it."

"I think that's the price we pay for wisdom. If you go your whole life without experiencing pain and suffering, then you don't know how to deal with those things."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I can't say I've gained much wisdom. Most of the time, I still feel like I'm twenty. I've spent almost thirty years of my life wondering about you, trying to picture what you looked like and hoping you were happy, and I finally have you here, and I treat you poorly."

"You weren't...."

"You don't have to make excuses for me, Johanna. He said you were bad at that."

"You said you knew him when he was young," I reminded her. "How did you recognize him?"

"We met when we were young," she explained. "He's come around from time to time to check up on us and tell us about you."

"Me? What did he tell you?"

"He had a lot of stories of when you were younger. Mostly from the letters his sister sent. He made you out to be a very feisty and charming little girl. I used to want to meet you so that we could be friends. But—it's been a long time since we've heard anything. I didn't know how long it would take to meet you. I wanted you to be like a daughter to me. But now you're all grown up." I nodded again.

"So did you and him ever have a—thing?" She looked scandalized. Her eyes widened with shock, but there was a blush on her cheeks that made me suspect I was right. "It's okay. It doesn't bother me. If that's what you're worried about."

"No," she said quickly. "It was nothing like that. I was really young when Beata introduced us. Just a girl. I thought he was very handsome, and I may have had a little bit of a crush. But it was never anything serious."

"What about when you were older?" She huffed and shook her head. She was obviously flustered. "Look," I said. "I just—I already feel guilty enough as it is. I'll hate myself even more if I find out everyone spent the last thirty years not having a life because of me. It would make me happy to know there was something good in all of that." She fiddled with her hair instead, twisting it in her fingers.

"It was just," she started, "wrong." Then I blinked.

"Wrong? How was it wrong?"

"Because he was always Beata's. And it was just a crush. And it couldn't ever be anything more than that. He never stopped loving her."

"But you guys did have a," I nodded, "thing."

"Something like that." Then I grinned.

"I can see how that'd be a little weird for you." She rolled her eyes, reminding me of Graham. And God, I missed that kid.

"It was just—I was younger. And I felt very sheltered, and he was so handsome. And he would come to visit, and it was nice to be around someone you could be yourself with. Someone who already knows all your secrets. And he cared so much about us. Letting go of the lie was good for a while. I think we were just very lost, and most of the pain had faded. But it was very short-lived, and it meant nothing." I didn't feel like she was telling the truth. Mostly because she already admitted she was good at holding grudges.

"You never forgave him, did you?" I asked. She shook her head slowly and chewed on her lip again.

"I wanted to hate him," she admitted. "I think I just wanted someone to be angry at. Beata was gone, and I let my guard down. I believed that maybe I had a chance for the future she'd left behind. I already knew he only liked the parts of me that reminded him of her. I was okay with that. But he took that too. I was foolish to think it could ever be anything real. He still loved her. And it's hard to love someone who's already given their heart to someone else. She took it to her grave."

She took a deep breath, and we went silent again. I gave him another once over to check that he was still breathing and nothing out of the ordinary was happening. But then I looked back at her, and she was watching him with so much concern that my heart broke. No wonder she acted the way she did.

"He had a lot of duties," she said. "He couldn't give up his life and come here. We both knew that. There was no way to make it work, even if we both really wanted it. I'm not angry with him anymore."

"I'm sorry." She didn't say anything for a long time. But then she glanced at me and nodded.

"I'm sorry too."