I slept so soundly that I was disoriented when I woke up. I felt a surge of adrenaline, but it gave way to relief almost immediately when I realized where I was. In my bed. My bed meant that Grace was here. Grace was alive. Grace was laying on my chest.
She stirred, and that made me happy because I wanted her to wake up and talk to me. Then she nuzzled her cheek into my chest and settled back into sleep, and that made me happy too.
Some unconscious part of me must have known that she was with me, since I didn't wake up thinking she was dead.
I was so fucking tired of feeling destroyed by her. I'd try to forget about her all day, but I'd still have to watch her die again at night. Dr. Raynor said I needed to process her death still, even if it never really happened. She was probably right. But Grace's presence was doing that work for me right now.
I'd been worrying about her, too, even more than I used to. How she'd been sleeping, if she'd felt safe. She'd ridden the subway here, but I wondered if she'd ever drink tea again.
When she woke up again, it was to her phone ringing. She rolled off of me to answer it, blinking thickly, voice adorably croaky as she answered "Hello?"
"Did you just wake up?" I heard Natasha say on the other end. "It's noon."
"It's the weekend," Grace argued, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand, propping a pillow against the headboard and leaning back angelically. She reached over and interlaced her hand with mine idly.
"Are you with Barnes?" Natasha asked. "Clint owes me money if you are."
"Yeah. How'd you know? He just got back last night."
"You never relax otherwise. No way would either of you sleep in this long on your own."
"Oh."
"Anyway, I need to talk to you. Ditch Barnes for a second so he doesn't overhear."
"I can't," Grace said.
"Just step into the other room."
"No."
"It's for, like, a minute, Grace."
"The problem is that I'll actually die if we're apart for that long. Is that what you want? You want me to die, Natasha?"
"Yes, that's what I want right now."
"I can ask him to cover his ears?"
"You know what? It's fine," Natasha said reluctantly. "I really need your advice, and Barnes is going to like what I have to tell you anyway."
"You want my advice?" Grace asked excitedly, her face lighting up.
"Yeah, I never thought the day would come either."
"Is it about emotions? Oo, it's for a love confession, isn't it? 'Cause I'm really good at love confessions. I've made several to Bucky."
"Yeah. I'm just asking...how you did it."
"What do you mean?" Grace's face scrunched up in confusion, and I wanted to kiss her. "How I worded it? I just said 'I love you.'"
"No. How do you physically get the words to come out?"
"Um."
"If they're stuck? I can't get them out. I can't say anything vaguely romantic."
"Umm..."
"Give me the phone, Grace," I said tiredly. Her eyebrows raised, but she put it in my open hand. "Romanoff. You're acting like me. Just fucking talk to him."
"I'm not acting like you," she said with disgust.
"You are."
"Put Grace back on the phone."
"Grace can't help you. I'm helping you—just fucking talk to Steve. The longer you think about it, the worse you're gonna fuck it up. It's really not complicated."
"I can't believe you have the audacity to give me emotional advice."
"I know. Having to hear this from me, of all people? Pretty embarrassing for you."
"I have no idea what Grace sees in you."
"She likes the arm, I think."
"Ugh. I'm hanging up now."
"Talk to Steve!"
I handed Grace's phone back to her as Natasha hung up.
"Do you think she'll talk to him?" Grace asked, climbing back onto me, pressing her face into my neck.
"She fucking better."
"Hm." There was a thoughtful silence before she added, "Did you sleep?"
"Yeah. Really well," I told her.
She hummed contentedly.
"Grace," I began, not sure how to go about asking what I'd been wondering. It just came out bluntly: "Are you back in therapy?"
"No. But I went to the doctor. I went a long time without taking my antidepressant when I was...gone. It was making me really emotional and foggy. I feel like I'm getting back to normal since I've been taking it again."
"Well, I was just asking 'cause of the memories? Or, the new ones, I mean. The ones you never lost. From HYDRA. I don't want them to...hurt you."
"You don't want the memories to hurt me?"
"I don't want you to end up like me."
She paused, like she wasn't sure how to address that. "I can go to therapy," she agreed finally.
"Good."
"I like therapy anyway," she continued. "I like that I'm paying someone to listen to me talk, so I never feel bad about talking for the whole hour."
"Well, don't go 'cause of that. You can talk to me all the hours you want, and I'm free. Just go for the help. Try to...I don't know. It's hard. I'm not the person to be telling you what to do in therapy."
"No, it's okay. I was putting it off. I don't want to think about it. I know a therapist is going to make me think about it."
"I know, sweetheart, but not thinking about it isn't gonna make it go away."
"I know. I'll go." She hesitated. "Have you been having nightmares about me? Is that why you didn't want to sleep?"
"Yeah," I admitted. I didn't want to elaborate.
She didn't ask me to elaborate, either. She tucked herself closer into me, and it was enough.
"I don't want anyone to hurt you again," I muttered. Just the thought of the nightmares brought that fear back.
"I know," she said sympathetically.
"But you're my girl, right?" I asked, wanting to hear it again. "I can protect you again?"
"Mhm."
"Thanks," I choked out, feeling soft again, trying not to cry.
"Stop thanking me for that," she said. "You said that a long time ago, too, when I first started staying with you. You don't need to thank me for letting you protect me."
"Yeah, well, I did a shitty job the first—" My voice started to crack, and I cut myself off.
"Don't say that," she pleaded. "It wasn't your fault."
I swallowed, but didn't say anything. I didn't trust myself to speak. I felt a tear slip out anyway, and Grace reached it before I could, wiping it with her thumb. She kissed me, lingering for a second, and sank back to her favorite spot on my chest.
"Can we go back to sleep?" she asked. "I feel like I haven't slept since the last time I was in this bed with you."
"Yeah," I said thickly. "I feel like that too."
I struggled to keep my eyes closed, though. My heart rate wouldn't slow down, my breathing wouldn't even out. She noticed. She brought her little hand up to my shoulder, and four fingers tapped at the line where my arm attached, two on vibranium, two on skin. I remembered she was there even as I fell back asleep.
1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4.
END OF PART FOUR