Summary: Baby Girl isn't doing too well after seeing Quentin.
Warnings: illusions and mention of violence, abuse, manipulation, and cheating, self-deprecation, fluff, flirting, angst
Note: I apologize for my absence. The response to the first part has been unbelievable! Thank you all so much. I hope I can do it justice.
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Bucky didn't know a person could cry so much. Surely, the body must have surpassed a threshold ages ago for maximum fluid expulsion, but it seemed unlikely. Tears ran unbidden down Baby Girl's face, soaking into her white camisole, still wet from the lake. At least her body no longer wracked with sobs, which was a small accomplishment, he supposed.
He filled a glass with cold water. "Here, drink this."
Baby Girl's movements were almost mechanical as she took measured sips, slowly draining the glass. She stared at her reflection in the crystal, then abruptly stood, making Bucky hastily step back. Barefoot and half-dressed, she made for the front door.
Bucky blocked her path. "Where are you going?"
She went around him and reached for the handle, but Bucky intercepted her just in time, pulling her by the wrist. Her eyes were unfocused and wild, darting this way and that. "Hey!" She froze. "Hey," he said again, softer and with considerably less force. "What's going on in that smart brain of yours, huh? What are you thinking?"
"I need to find Quentin," she gulped. "I need to apologize to him. I need to make things right before he—"
She choked on her words, but Bucky knew her enough by now to predict what she would say next. "Before he what? Before he hurts Sam?"
Her face crumpled. "Maybe if I get down on my knees and beg, he'll forgive me, and things can go back to the way they used to be."
Bucky felt his previous anger return. Quentin Beck was a goddamn asshole because, in the span of a few minutes, he had managed to turn a bright and bubbly soul into an inconsolable mess.
"Is that really what you want?" he asked. "You want things to go back to the way they used to be?" Bucky already knew Baby Girl's answer, but he felt it was imperative for her to acknowledge out loud.
"No," she croaked. "Not really, but I don't have a choice. Quentin will hurt Sam and his family."
Bucky wiped the fresh tears from her face, letting his hands linger on her cheeks. "And what about you? He's hurting you. Are you not Sam's family?"
Baby girl began crying anew. Bucky carried her to the couch and held her close, letting her tears run down his bare skin. They sat like that until her breathing eventually evened, and her eyes drooped close. Bucky didn't dare move. Baby Girl was cradled in his arms and against his neck, legs stretched on the couch.
His eyes began to close, sleep slowly taking over, and he was going to let it. They both needed rest after the day's events, but sleep wasn't in his fortune. Bucky's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he startled awake, awkwardly maneuvering around to retrieve it without disturbing Baby Girl.
