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

[nerves_of_ice]

He smiles, just a little, and lets go of her so that he can pull out a money clip and hand over the artist's fee. As they start wrapping the piece in tissue paper, he tells Sharon,

"Thank you."

[from_the_outside]

"For what?"

There's some connection here she's missing, but... maybe... maybe he's grateful she's trusted him and is willing to work with him. Maybe he's happy she sees him as a person – a partner – instead of the weapon. Or broken.

But he's like these pieces already, isn't he? Maybe there are some jagged edges still, but he's a whole person. A new person, made from the scraps of himself, as much gold as steel.

The artist hands her the piece and she smiles and thanks them, too, before slipping it into her tote.

[nerves_of_ice]

He just shakes his head and gives her a small, quick smile, not about to even attempt to explain. He's not sure he'd be able to articulate it, not yet - and certainly not here, in front of anyone else.

Instead, he asks, "Where next? Any preference?"

[from_the_outside]

"Well – "

She slips her free hand into the strap of her tote and glances around, catching a whiff of her own perfume as she points. "Over there," she decides.

"I see some nutcrackers that are about to become Christmas presents for my parents."

[nerves_of_ice]

His small smile broadens into an amused grin.

"Yes, ma'am. Nutcrackers? That the kind of thing they'll get a kick out of?"

He takes a sip of his wine before moving to her side, on her right as before.

[from_the_outside]

If this is a cover, she has to say she's thoroughly enjoying it; even if it's fake, it's the best date she's been on in...

Well, why put a number on it?

"It's that or a package of various wursts and beer steins," she admits, falling into step at his side and taking a swallow of her own wine. She hasn't eaten anything, and she can feel it beginning to pleasantly suffuse her head.

"They only said: 'something German!' when I asked what they wanted and by now they should know to give me stricter parameters."

[nerves_of_ice]

He shakes his head at that, imagining the laughter and satisfaction on her face as she teases her parents with a gift like this.

"They're getting off lucky, then."

[from_the_outside]

"Oh, I don't know about that."

He should know by now that she never ever lets someone off easy.

She slants a look at him as they stroll. He's been moving fine, easily, but – "How're the ribs?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"I heal fast," he says, succinctly. Bucky sets his left hand very lightly at the small of her back to help steer her to the side and around a small group of art students who are getting too ebullient with their very active critique of one poor exhibitor, then glances sideways at her.

"How about yours?"

[from_the_outside]

Her lips twitch, amused. "Improving all the time."

He'd touched her a lot like this in the museum – a hand on the back, an arm around the shoulders or waist – so it's not an alien sensation so much as unexpected.

But nice, even though she tells herself any small flush of warmth is from the wine. Rather than pulling away, she shifts a little closer, guided by the faint pressure on her back. "Another couple of weeks and I'll be fit as a fiddle again."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Good." She moves a little toward him, and he leaves his hand where it is until they're past the students and into the clear - then politely removes it.

"... that's a lot of nutcrackers," he adds, dryly, as they approach the display.

[from_the_outside]

"I don't know what you expected," she says, amused, and moves away to look through the various dolls and ornaments, all beautifully hand-made of turned, painted wood.

"So," she says, as she browses. "This next trip. When were you thinking?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Good point. I don't either."

He wanders along with her as she examines the crafts, with idle curiosity of his own. "Depends on when you can get the time off work. Although sooner's better," he adds. "I hear that some of the most interesting sights tend to be ... traveling displays."

[from_the_outside]

She selects a pair of nutcracker ornaments and one full-sized monstrosity with a horrifying grin that her parents will love, and hands them to the artisan to be wrapped up as she mulls what he says over in her mind.

"Two weeks too long? I'll be all healed up by then and I can take a long weekend. Anything before that will be a little dicey, since I just took some time off to go home."

[nerves_of_ice]

"Two weeks should be fine. Longer, if you need."

His gaze flicks around the festival, absently assessing and checking for risks or trouble, before it rests on her once more.

"Maybe not over another month, if we can avoid it."

[from_the_outside]

"Thanks," she tells the artisan as he hands her back the wrapped package, and turns to face Bucky as she's putting both presents and wallet back in her tote. "Two weeks is plenty."

Everything squared away, she tips the last swallow of wine into her mouth and puts the empty glass on a tray covered with others just like it nearby. "Your turn to pick. Make it a good one or I'm ditching you for those Swedish tourists."

She grins in the direction of a large, polite mass of rumpled blonde hair and blue eyes. "They look like fun."

[nerves_of_ice]

He chuckles at that and offers her his glass, which is still half full, as he says,

Why don't we check out that one?"

He nods toward a display of woven crafts.

[from_the_outside]

She takes the glass and gives him a pert look.

"Okay. And after that, we should probably get some food, unless you want to carry me home. Alcohol works just the way it's supposed to on some of us."

It already is working: her thoughts are slightly fuzzy and her cheeks are pink and flushed.

[nerves_of_ice]

"I'm not trying to get you drunk," he protests, immediately reaching to take the glass back. "But I'll take you to dinner either way, if you'll let me."

[from_the_outside]

"Um! Rude," she says, going for affronted but grinning hugely as she teasingly pulls the glass back to her own shoulder and away from him.

Primly: "Excuse me, this is mine now."

Oh, yeah. It's definitely working. Why else would she feel a little warm and light-headed and in such a good mood?

[nerves_of_ice]

He huffs out a small amused breath and raises both hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay. Don't know what I was thinking."

He hadn't clocked Sharon for a lightweight, but he'll remember - and it doesn't matter anyway, since he'd already intended to look out for her this evening. Bucky gestures politely for her to proceed him to the next exhibit.

[from_the_outside]

The wine is good and so is the company, and she's just starting to edge over into "tipsy" from "faintly buzzed," but she's not drunk.

And that's good because she'd rather not trip all over herself or say something she really shouldn't and will regret in the morning. She's not weaving or stumbling, she's just... having a nice time. Kind of like she had a nice time with him the last time they went out and got dinner, which is something for her to chew on.

In the meantime, the wine is just giving a warm glow to everything and everyone around her, including herself. It's just enough to soften some of her edges, allow her to let her guard down a little. Be just Sharon, instead of Sharon Carter, or Agent 13.

Which she can do, because if she's not safe walking around with the Winter Soldier, she's not safe anywhere. Plus, the artisans appreciate it, because she enthuses over their work, like this newest exhibit full of exquisite woven goods. "Nice choice," she compliments Bucky, who is standing just behind her like a bodyguard.

She almost lets herself lean back towards him. But shakes the impulse from her head just in time.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Thanks."

She's relaxed, and happy, and smiling and entertained, and it's just her and not a role, he's pretty sure.

He knows he's going to remember this night, the same way he remembers sitting with her in a little room in Polygyros, the way he remembers her telling him to breathe into her hand in Thessaloniki. Even if she tells him to go to hell later, even if he never sees her again after tonight, he'll remember.

"I like that one," he adds, picking almost at random - and then realizing he does, actually, appreciate the wool throw in question. It's maroon and purple and smoke-colors, all the way from palest gray to deepest charcoal.

[from_the_outside]

"It's beautiful," she agrees, reaching out to run her fingers over the pattern. It's very soft. She can't imagine being able to create anything that lovely and practical at the same time.

If she wants to make sure she keeps enjoying herself, if she wants to maintain this perfect level of slight buzz and relaxation where she can almost forget that this is really just an excuse to plan a mission, she'd better slow down. She leaves his glass of wine still mostly untouched in her hand.

Glancing up, her smile flashes as her gaze lands on another blanket. "I like that green one over there, too."

[nerves_of_ice]

"One for each of you," the artist says, helpfully. "I'll make you a deal if you take both."

"We're just looking," Bucky tells her, before realizing that he hasn't actually asked Sharon if she wants one. He looks at her, a question in his eyes.