The Captain, the Sergeant, and the Nurse || B. Barnes

Ice

When she had finally accepted going back to her room that night, Allie had taken one of Bucky's shirts, quickly pulling it on as if it were him holding onto her. Steve had followed her upstairs, scared to leave her on her own.

Instead, just as he had when they were children, he stayed with her. Holding her as she sobbed, he felt the guilt weighing heavier. He had lost his best friend. She had lost her husband. He couldn't make that sort of pain go away.

"I should have been there," she sobbed against his chest. "I should have been with you all."

"You were sick," he reminded her.

"I should have been there," she repeated. "I should have been there."

She fell asleep that night blaming herself for having been ill. No matter how many times her brother assured her that it wasn't her fault, she blamed herself. She even found herself snapping at one moment and blaming him. He had been the one with Bucky when it happened, hadn't he?

Then she thought of how horrible he felt as well. It wasn't just her that had lost Bucky. He had lost him too. The team had lost him. His family, although they didn't know just yet, had lost him. That thought would haunt her.

As the next few days passed by, Allie realized how each one seemed longer than the last. How was it that they could be that agonizing?

Each morning, she would wake up in one of Bucky's shirts. She would turn to her side, excited to say good morning. The absence of him beside her would then crush her all over again. How could he be gone? She'd smell his scent on his clothes, burying her face in it and sobbing until there were no more tears.

Steve was the first to notice her eating less and less. There were some days that he was grateful he saw her eating most of one meal. She had had the same appetite when their mother had died. This time, however, she never went to bed without having had a number of glasses of whiskey or bourbon or beer, whatever she could.

She still found it in herself to rise in the morning, dressing and attempting to make breakfast for the men. Any bit of normalcy when she felt as if she was just floating through the day.

A week after everything had happened, Howard visited the Commandos. Steve had greeted him, though he too seemed as if he were just there. After a moment, Howard braved the question of how Allie was, only being taken upstairs to the bedroom she had shared with Bucky.

She was sat on the edge of the bed closest to the window, staring out at the scene outside. It was the middle of February, and despite there being snow on the ground, there were patches that were melted.

"Someone came to say hello," Steve spoke as he stood to the side of the room.

"Allie?" Howard said her name, glancing to Steve who only gave him a small nod. Thinking carefully as she glanced over, he took a few steps into the room. "How are you?"

She remained silent, pursing her lips as she made the attempt to prevent the stinging in her eyes. She turned her gaze to the ceiling.

"I'm angry," she muttered. "I'm angry at everything. I'm angry at everyone. I'm angry at Hydra. I'm angry at Schmidt. I'm angry at Zola. I'm angry with Steve. I'm angry with Bucky."

"That's a lot of anger," he tried to grin. He only received a quick and sharp glare in response. "Sorry. I read the reports about it."

"I should have been there," she shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. "I should have been with him."

"If you had been there and it had been you that fell, Bucky wouldn't have been able to live with himself. We both know that," Howard reminded her.

"If I had been there, we could have all made it out," she bit out. "How does no one understand that?"