[oom] I'll see you in the morning time

[nerves_of_ice]

The low hum of the television on the twenty-four hour sports channel continues all through the night, casting its shadows and dim electronic light over the bed, the blankets, and the two of them curled up together there.

For once, there are no nightmares.

It's only once the sun starts making its way above the horizon and the sky outside begins to fade from black to blue that Bucky stirs - and as he realizes where he is and who's with him, a sunshine-bright smile lights his face.

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[from_the_outside]

She kisses him back, savoring it even though he's only going out to run an errand. It's not like this is her last chance. Far from it.

"I'll be here."

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles and rolls to his feet in one easy motion. Bucky crosses to the closet to grab a change of clothes, and idly picks up the painting and the bag with the egg in it on the way.

He pushes both into the back of the closet - painting against the wall, bag on the floor in front of it - and quickly changes into jeans and another dark blue shirt, then shoves his feet into socks and the boots he’d tucked neatly under the bed.

[from_the_outside]

She sits at the head of the bed, knees drawn up and her arms around them, the laptop beside her, and smiles as she watches him get dressed, as he tugs on his socks and boots.

"Gosh," she says, appreciatively. "You're such a dreamboat."

[nerves_of_ice]

He chuckles at that.

“Look who’s talking.”

[from_the_outside]

She makes an amused noise and gestures at her tousled hair, her stolen, too-big-for-her clothes, and her general lack of polish.

"Oh yeah. All the boys come running for this."

[nerves_of_ice]

“You have no idea just how attractive you are,” he teases, amused.

[from_the_outside]

She flips her hair and bats her eyes at him, then laughs.

"I know it works for you," she says. "That's all I need."

[nerves_of_ice]

He leans over and pulls her close for a quick kiss, then backs to the door. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises, before he ducks down the hall.

[from_the_outside]

As the door closes, her smile fades. There's something she needs to do, and she didn't want him here to see it.

She pushes herself off the bed and pads over to the dresser, opening the first two drawers and taking out a pair of black pants and a blank long-sleeved shirt, then dresses quickly.

(This isn't a Sharon Carter task. It's for the other one.)

Dressed, she searches through her things until she finds the phone she needs.

(Not hers. The other phone.)

Unsurprisingly, the screen is choked with messages and alerts. She doesn't see the grim set to her jaw as she wanders into the living room, eyes on her screen, and begins navigating through them, but she'll likely feel it later.

[nerves_of_ice]

He walks up the street toward the next avenue, planning to make a fairly quick circuit. The neighborhood hardware store's only a few blocks over, and there's a market halfway down the block after that. He should be able to get the coffee and a few other things there and be back in half an hour at most.

[from_the_outside]

Madripoor is in chaos and rumors are flying. She's grimly pleased to see that Matteo has risen to the challenge – it's time to take the next steps in moving him into Selby's old position – and that no one is questioning that the art dealer is dead.

And the Winter Soldier could be anywhere.

She sends the messages she needs to send, then puts that phone away and finds her own. There's a message from Sam that she ignores for the moment, instead pulling up a number that's so old she has no idea if it will work anymore.

Foxtrot. Secret Squirrel: Sierra Charlie. Back on the block. Acknowledge.

[nerves_of_ice]

He ends up talking with the hardware store owner for longer than he means to, but it's all to the good. The man's been running the store for over twenty years, working in construction before that, and he knows what he's doing. Bucky alludes to having done some work on the subway 'a while back,' and needing to replace a tool set after his old one had been lost during the Blip, and together the two of them put together a pretty good set of options.

(He makes sure a measuring tape's included, and is chagrined and amused in equal measure when the guy is pleased about it - apparently most people use some app on their phones these days.)

After that, carrying the toolbox in his left hand, he heads up the street toward the market. As he walks, he pulls out his phone and texts Sam.

Bucky: Hey. Any chance you got Fury's latest number in that massive contact list of yours?

[from_the_outside]

She doesn't actually expect a reply. Who knows if the number is still connected, or if Fury's available, or if he even cares – there are plenty of reasons why she didn't try to contact him after the Blip.

Whatever Bucky says, she's as much to blame as anyone.

She returns to her other phone, catching up, trying to absorb everything she needs to know.

(No news of Karli, still. Damn.)

But it's only a few minutes later when her phone buzzes and she looks over to see the glowing text box of a new message.

Verify.

Her hands shake as she sends back the codes they'd agreed on so long ago.

Verification: Songbird. Daffodil. Sundown. Angel.

This time she hardly has to wait at all before the reply pops up and she sobs a ragged breath at the message she sees.

Acknowledge, squirrel. Welcome home.

[nerves_of_ice]

He leaves the toolbox behind the front counter and makes his way through the market. Cinnamon. Cream. Coffee - fresh ground, he figures that’ll be best. A couple of other things, including a fresh-baked loaf of bread and a bouquet of flowers.

He’s on his way back up to check out when Sam replies,

Sam: Got an old one. Let me ask around. Trouble?

Bucky makes a face at the phone and sends,

Bucky: Just wanted to reach out about some old business.

Five minutes later, he’s on his way back.

[from_the_outside]

She's not sure what exactly she's feeling – it is complicated as hell – but she grins at her phone as she sends another message.

Verify.

When, a few seconds later, another message appears on her screen, her shoulders relax.

Verification: Baseball. Gulf. Airplane. Dad.

She shakes her head and sends a final message.

Acknowledge, Foxtrot. You better have a damn good explanation.

[nerves_of_ice]

He makes his way back down the Brooklyn sidewalks with casual ease, toolbox in his left hand and the paper shopping bag in the crook of his right arm. Force of habit keeps him scanning faces and the area around him, but all’s peaceful.

He takes a different route around two blocks on the return, but it’s only a few minutes longer before he turns into the right street and starts down the block to his door, almost exactly on the half hour he’d promised.

[from_the_outside]

If he has an explanation, he doesn't text it, and Sharon shakes her head as she sits back on the bed, cross-legged and setting her phone beside her hip.

They need to rendezvous, debrief. She needs to look him in the eye and ask him to his face why the hell he left her there, alone. Why he didn't come back for her after he returned.

How he could have let her go and told no one she was still alive.

But for the moment she has nothing else to say – or she doesn't know how to say what she needs – so she opens the laptop back up and navigates to the sites of a few clothing stores she used to frequent.

She's sick to death of wearing black.

[nerves_of_ice]

He calls out as he opens the door — “I’m home!” — and fights back the unexpected wave of grief at the sudden memory of doing the same in Paris, with Natasha, when they were James and Nancy Rushman, so many years ago on their first long joint assignment.

Bucky shuts the door behind him with a foot, sets the toolbox down to the side, and heads for the kitchen.

[from_the_outside]

"Hi," she calls out, and abandons the laptop in favor of getting off the bed and heading down the hall to the main room. She gives the toolbox an approving glance, then joins him in the kitchen, smiling.

"Welcome home."

[nerves_of_ice]

He straightens from the inside of the fridge, where he’s been putting away the cream, and turns to her with a smile.

“Here,” he says, pulling the bouquet from the bag and holding it out to her.

[from_the_outside]

It makes her think of Wakanda, and the flowers he made sure she got every day when he was under, and it makes her think of that last sad bouquet in Madripoor, the one that had convinced her they had to leave.

Her smile lights her face like sunshine and she reaches out to take the bouquet and bury her nose in its sweet scented petals. "Thank you."

She looks up at him, pleased and bright. "They're beautiful."

[nerves_of_ice]

That look on her face is everything he’s ever wanted to see. Bucky sets the shopping bag on the counter again and smiles back at her.

“I’m glad you like them. I don’t think I have a vase but I figured a water glass might work.”

[from_the_outside]

"That'll work fine," she assures him, and goes to the cabinet to take down a glass like he suggests.

"Find everything okay?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“No problems,” he assures her, pulling the last few things out of the bag. Bread goes in its paper wrapper on the counter, coffee and cinnamon go side by side in the cabinet with the French press, and butter and cheese go in the fridge with the cream.

“I picked up a good basic tool set, complete with measuring tape. Should be enough for anything that needs fixing.”

[from_the_outside]

"Great," she says, tucking the flowers into the glass and adding water. She puts the bouquet on the pass-through counter and throws away the plastic that had wrapped it, then leans back on the counter to watch him with an expression that isn't quite wary.

"Bucky... I made contact with Fury."