Leipzig AU: the choices we make

[nerves_of_ice]

It's a month after Thessaloniki when he slips the unmarked, unstamped postcard in the mail at Sharon Carter's apartment.

(It had taken him the entire month to decide to reach out. He'd spent most of the time burying himself in his self-imposed work and not allowing himself to think about anything other than the mission. Eventually, he'd realized that it wasn't working, and that there was only one way to find out what he now needs to know, even if he can't admit even to himself exactly why he does.)

Of course there's always the chance she'll think it's just an advertisement and ignore it. If she does, he'll try again with something a little more obvious before deciding she's not interested in reconnecting. Still, he thinks she's clever enough to catch it, and to decode the message, which isn't that subtle when it comes down to it: time, place, location.

It takes far less than a minute to pick the lock on the mailbox security panel - two seconds, maybe three, and he's able to pull it open, drop the card on top of her mail, and secure it once more.

Bucky makes his way from her apartment back down the Berlin street quickly and quietly, cap pulled down to hide his face, and disappears into the crowd.

Comments

[from_the_outside]

"Pinot gris," Sharon requests, and casts a slightly sharp glance at Bucky as the bartender nods and turns to pour their drinks.

"Huh," she says, light and just a little crisp. "So you've decided to trust my judgment now?"

...Okay. Maybe she's still a little annoyed. And maybe she's thought a little too much about how often he pushed back against her risk assessment. And she's definitely still pissed about that month of radio silence.

[nerves_of_ice]

He sets down enough for their drinks and a decent tip, then pushes the first glass to her before picking up the second.

"Sure." His glance is a little wary, a little searching. "Why wouldn't I?"

[from_the_outside]

"I don't know. My track record with you is pretty good so far."

Or, arguably, it's terrible. Depending on what side of the is it a good idea to be swanning about with the Winter Soldier? line one might fall on. She breathes in through her nose and is distantly pleased that her ribs have healed enough that it almost doesn't hurt anymore, then lifts her glass to him in a toast. "Let's see how it turned out this time."

[nerves_of_ice]

He lifts his glass in turn and waits for her to take the first sip before he does the same.

"Nice."

[from_the_outside]

She smiles slightly, and takes another sip, washing back the annoyance at the month of silence and her own assumptions.

Maybe he had a good reason for it. "Score one for me," she says. "So what was it you were saying about the exhibitions?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"That there are a lot of good exhibits," he responds, although there's still something a little searching about his glance.

Is she reconsidering her decision to come her? Her involvement with the Winter Soldier? He wouldn't blame her in the slightest - she's putting herself at a lot of risk by even speaking with him, much less anything else. But then, that wouldn't explain why she's suggesting he's not trusting her judgment. Is she upset for some reason?

"A couple in particular are pretty spectacular. One's blown glass, another's photography."

[from_the_outside]

She meets that searching gaze with her own bland one. Now, with wine in her hand and him right there in front of her, isn't really the time to get into it.

Unlike, say... any time in the previous month.

She picks up her glass and tips her head at the crowd. "Show me?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's this way. Other end of the walk," he says, keeping his own glass in his right hand.

He's careful not to touch her as they start through the crowd.

Very quietly:

"Should I ask what's wrong?"

[from_the_outside]

"I'm mad at you," she says, admitting it freely, though mad doesn't feel like quite the right word for this complex knot that's living beneath her breastbone. She's relieved, after a month of worry, and that's annoying. "But don't worry. It'll pass."

She sips at her wine, casts a sidelong glance at him with the beginnings of a smile, and lets her shoulder nudge his.

"Probably."

That is just straight up teasing.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Uh-huh. Well, you've probably got good reason to be."

He casually blocks an enthusiastic, overly exuberant knot of people from bumping into them with a twist of his body, and nods toward an exhibit several further down.

"Do I get to know what it is?"

[from_the_outside]

"Sure," she says, all peaches and cream.





"I'll tell you in a month."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Uh-huh," he says again, in an entirely different tone, and lapses into silence.

For fifteen steps.

"Did something happen?"

This time, he sounds worried - tautly controlled, but clear all the same. A litany of possibilities cascades through his mind. Did she have trouble with passing along the data? Is her injury not healing? Did the JTTF hit her with difficult questions? Is she under suspicion?

Did she need his help, and he wasn't there?

[from_the_outside]

That isn't the reaction she expected – no teasing her back, no tit for tat – and it throws her off. "No."

He sounds genuinely worried. She can't look at him too closely while they're moving, so she snatches glances here and there, brow beginning to furrow. "Nothing happened."

Maybe she pushed too far? He'd taken her edged humor with rolling eyes and dry amusement back in Greece, but this one seemed to actually hit. After a second, she offers an olive branch. "I passed your message along."

[nerves_of_ice]

The relaxation that had started to thread across his shoulders at her reassurance vanishes utterly with her next words.

"Thanks."

He doesn't ask. He can't. He has no right to.

[from_the_outside]

The shift that comes over him is like the barometer taking a sudden dip, and the knot in her stomach clenches tighter. Whatever annoyance she was still feeling hiccups away into thin air, and she glances around at the people nearby, then puts her hand on his arm – the left, not that she's thinking about it – and draws him to a stop near the edge of the walkway, maneuvering herself between him and the crowd without thinking about it.

Not for their protection. For his.

And she doesn't lift her hand as she looks up into his face. "Hey. You okay?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods, looking down at her, and doesn't pull away.

"Did he -- say anything? No," he corrects, immediately. "Tell me later. If then. Just ... is he okay?"

He searches her face, trying to read the smallest hint of reaction, any sign that she might be trying to hide bad news. Maybe what he did hurt Steve in some way.

He wouldn't doubt it. He's hurt him in so many ways.

[from_the_outside]

"He's okay," she says, instantly. "He's good. I'll tell you all about it later."

She looks at him, considering. She could prove it – her phone has a series of texts from Steve and a photo he'd sent where he looks pretty pleased about the Thai food he'd ordered on her recommendation – but she's not sure if it would help or hurt.

And what he needs to work out with Steve... he needs to work out with Steve. She's got her own thing with him, and that's all she can control. "Look," she says, gently. "What I said before... I didn't mean it. Well, I meant it. But I'm – it's really good to see you. Anyway."

[nerves_of_ice]

“It’s really good to see you too,” he murmurs. Her hand’s still resting lightly on his arm, and he holds himself as still as he can, not wanting to move and disturb her.

“I’m sorry I made you mad. I didn’t mean to.”

[from_the_outside]

He probably can't feel the way her fingers tighten lightly on his upper arm; certainly the metal doesn't give at all beneath her gentle grip.

"I didn't hear from you for a month," she says, soft. "I was worried. I thought something awful had happened. Or that you'd decided for me that it was too much of a risk."

Sharon shakes her head as she looks up into his face. "What took so long?"

[nerves_of_ice]

This close to him, there’s no way for her to miss the way his eyes widen, or the surprise in them.

She was worried? About me?

“No,” he says, after a stunned second. “Nothing like that. I was just… doing some research. Tracking down a few leads.”

[from_the_outside]

Her lips press together. "No need to look so surprised," she says, disgruntled. "I have human emotions. So, just... check in next time, huh?"

It says something, she knows, that she'd gone straight to worry or being annoyed that maybe he'd made his own risk assessment and not that he'd perhaps decided to cut ties because she's a risk for him.

She's not sure what it says, but she knows it's something and whatever it is, she doesn't like it. "So we're good?"

[nerves_of_ice]

“I know you do.” There’s no way she could know how often he’s dreamed of Thessaloniki in the weeks since, or how many times he’d thought of the way she’d tried to take care of him.

Even as he says it, a quiet alarm goes off in the depths of his mind, telling him they’ve been still too long. He manages a smile, slow and unthinkingly warm.

“As far as I’m concerned, we are. Come on. Let’s look at some art.”

[from_the_outside]

That smile is unsettling in all the best ways and she smiles back before she realizes it. She can't help thinking it looks like the ones he gave her in the museum when they were casing the place and pretending to be besotted tourists.

Could he be using a cover now? It's possible. There might be something here he wants to check out, and the same cover would work as well here as it did in Polygyros.

But then why wouldn't he have reached out earlier to brief her? "Okay," she says, peaceably, and lifts her hand from his arm. "Which first?"

[nerves_of_ice]

He nods to an exhibit three down from where they currently stand, a display of black-and-white landscape photography.

“Want to check out some pictures?”

[from_the_outside]

She glances in the direction he'd indicated and makes a pleased sound. "Definitely."

As they stroll, she lifts her glass for another sip. That first glass of wine is beginning to warm through her blood, and she pushes her inquisitive thoughts aside to enjoy it and the evening and his company as he walks beside her.

She hadn't lied. It really is good to see him. Good enough that she's not willing to examine it too closely.