According to Steve, returning the infinity stones would be an easy job. He'd be back before anyone would even realize he was gone, or so he said. Ten seconds was all he needed, ten long Mississippi's and he'd be back on the landing pad like he had never left. He told them he was ready and it happened in the blink of an eye. He'd hardly said goodbye, only offering a small smile and a kiss on the forehead, followed by the words; "take care of yourself."
"Where is he?" She asked, her voice small and quiet at first, "James, where is he?"
The question itself nearly made her vomit all over the grass beneath her feet. Time ticked on, seconds passing by in slow motion while nobody dared to speak up or move. The tension among those present could be cut with a knife and those with heightened hearing could make out the acceleration of heartbeats all around them. Bucky shook his shoulders, muscles tightening and jaw tensing.
She was painfully aware of the silence that was broken by birds that had found their way into the nearest tree and she suddenly felt ashamed to be standing there. The sound warped, the pitch of birds singing lowering as Janie froze in place. Her thoughts raced and shut her eyes, afraid that if she'd open them again, she'd find him dead on the platform or worse, still missing. She drew a deep gulp of air in order to keep herself from passing out then and there and it almost felt like for a moment, she was back in the basement with Zemo. Getting tortured was easier than losing Steve, she thought.
Janie's head whipped backward, muscles painfully straining in protest when she watched Bruce frantically press buttons on the control pad of the time heist machine. Sweat rolled down his temple in streams and collected under his armpits, tongue sticking out of his mouth while he twisted knobs and flicked switches like the DJ in a nightclub. Janie had to hold back laughter for a moment. Laughter fueled by panic and confusion and anything but comedy. She remembered the smile Steve gave her before he left and her stomach twisted painfully. She didn't even allow herself to admit it had been a sad smile. She remembered she wanted to tell him she loved him, but changed her mind at the last second, thinking she'd wait until he got back to do so.
If there was ever a time for Janie to start praying, this was it, but she wasn't an idiot and it didn't take a genius to figure out what Steve had done. Time ticked on and Steve didn't return. She felt woozy as if she was running a marathon in August on a full stomach and was ready to cry.
"Bruce?" Sam asked, his voice high and shaky, "where is he?"
Janie's breath quickened and she felt as if she were half choking on her own tongue. An image of the previous night ghosted through her head, making her feel nauseous. It was almost as if her body had been wrapped in tangles of ivy, burning her skin and stopping her from being able to breathe right. She was in a trance, imprisoned inside her own terror as images of Steve's displays of affection played on repeat. She felt herself becoming more panicked as the seconds ticked on, causing Bucky to take a step closer to her.
"I don't know what happened," Bruce cried out, "he should be right here!"
"James," she mumbled, tears threatening to spill, "where is he? Bring him back, Bruce!"
"I can't," he said, "He's not there."
Janie's fingers found their way around Bucky's forearm. He glanced at her, unaware of how she'd inched towards him. Her nails pressed hard into his flesh, creating red marks that would stay there for several more days. All color drained from her face and the young woman momentarily found herself unable to breathe.
"Please," she begged, struggling to speak between sobs, "please bring him back."
"Janie," Bucky whispered, "c'mon. You gotta breathe, girl."
She looked at the reflective glare of the sun that cascaded over the water, and a figure seated on one of two wooden benches made her heart stop. She thought she'd rather have a house collapse on top of her because at least then, she wouldn't have to deal with the scene unfolding in front of her. She'd rather be smashed in the rubble than be forced to experience this grueling feeling of mental shards of glass in her cuts, cutting her open from the inside.
Bucky followed her gaze, cursing under his breath in a language Janie couldn't understand. She didn't hear him anyway, because her ears were ringing so loudly she couldn't even think straight. Hell, it was like the air turned stagnant and time had frozen completely now, just as it had done for Steve when he went into the ice.
"Sam," Bucky shouted, "go talk to him. I'm taking her home, man."
Janie screamed, tears welling in her eyes when she realized who it was she was looking at. Her vision blurred quickly, now allowing her to only see the vague outline of the man she'd seen just seconds ago. He wasn't the same anymore, she could tell immediately, and seeing his graying hair and slouching posture was worse than seeing him in a casket.
"Hey," Bucky said, grabbing her face with both hands, "look at me, look at me. C'mon, focus on me right now. You're panicking."
Sam walked towards Steve with his head shaking and he pinched the bridge of his nose to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Janie allowed Bucky's arms to engulf her and to hold her up so she wouldn't collapse onto the grass. The metal felt cold against her bare shoulders, but all she could feel was her heart breaking into a million pieces and his breath on her neck. Steve heard her crying behind him but didn't turn around to look at her. He knew what he had done, knew it would take her a long time to understand why he'd done it, but he was certain she would one day thank him for his decision, even if it would take her years to realize it.
"I got you," Bucky mumbled as he coaxed her inside the house, away from the old man she thought she loved, "you're okay."
He was horribly uncomfortable but refused to let it show. Bucky understood what Steve had done, but the crying girl in his arms had lost the man she was in love with forever and there was no turning it back. She reminded him nothing of the woman he'd met under the influence of HYDRA, her tear-stained face offering a stark contrast to the cold gaze she'd given him when she first extracted him from his prison cell.
She mumbled incoherent sentences, fingernails digging into her palms so hard it stung. Bucky held her upper arm tightly to keep her up until he set her down on the couch. A pitiful look washed over his features while he went to grab their jackets, slipping on his own in a swift motion and draping hers over Janie's shoulders. He grabbed her again then, slinging her purse over his shoulder before walking her to the car. He tossed the bag onto the backseat and Janie allowed him to strap her into the seatbelt.
"Stay here, okay? I'm gonna go talk to 'm. I gotta...," he frowned, but didn't finish his sentence. Then, Bucky shut the car door.
When he returned ten minutes later, she hadn't moved.
"Do you want to talk to him?" He asked.
Janie shook her head, voice weak like a whimper, "not now."
Bucky nodded. He drove her home in complete silence and didn't leave until she was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin.
The day after it happened would forever be the hardest day of Janie's life. She couldn't turn off her brain, feeling helpless while she lay in bed curled up in the sheets she'd once shared with Steve. With the fabric twisted between her fingers and her face buried in the pillow, she cried for him, longing for his presence to ease her mind and tell her things would be okay. She couldn't understand why he had left her.
She was weak, broken down into little pieces because of a man. She wanted to hate him for what he had done but knew she could never allow herself to fall so deep down the rabbit hole. A headache rooted behind her left eye as the day progressed and from the looks of it, it would be a bad one.
It was, and it came back every day for ten days straight.
It had been weeks since Janie left her apartment. Crumpled-up tissues covered in dried tears and snot and discarded pieces of unwashed clothing littered the entirety of her bedroom floor, while empty pizza boxes and soda cans lined the coffee table in the living room. A pile of dishes sat stacked up in the sink, accumulated over the course of nearly a month. It smelled like dirty laundry and junk food inside Janie's home, but she didn't care. She hadn't brushed her hair in three days, and couldn't remember when she'd last showered or brushed her teeth. It didn't fucking matter. Not while the memories of that day continued to haunt her.
The TV had been playing for four days straight, but Janie hadn't caught a minute of it. The light in the bathroom had been on since Thursday morning, and judging by her phone, today was Tuesday. She couldn't recall the last time something had hurt so bad. It was as if a hole had been punched through her chest or a spear had pierced straight through her insides.
She never imagined Steve would pick his old flame over her because that was so damn long ago and he told her he loved her. At least he said he thought he did. Just the thought of never seeing those azure eyes burning into her ever again made her want to throw up. She remembered him saying everything felt like winter when she wasn't around, and look at her now, angry because she hadn't been able to penetrate the brick wall Steve had built around his heart. She felt betrayed, not only by him but also by herself for allowing herself to get so close to someone. She almost couldn't blame him for choosing Peggy over her.
Both Bucky and Sam had tried to contact her numerous times, but after Janie's iPhone battery died from watching YouTube videos all night, the calls went straight to voicemail. Charging it would prove to be too much of a hassle, so it just lay beneath her pillow, cold and dead like her.
"Janie!"
Loud knocks on the door woke Janie from her second nap of the day. She groaned, sitting upright in bed while she clutched her head. A half-empty bottle of vodka stood on her nightstand, a physical reminder of last night's activity. She was never a big drinker, but she'd found it in the back of the pantry and had taken it as a sign. Of course, she hadn't realized she couldn't get drunk because of the serum. Still, the headache that resonated from last night's shedding of tears reminded her of what it was like to be hungover.
Sam's voice echoed through the dusty apartment, followed by more knocks on the door, "Janie, open the damn door, girl!"
She didn't move.
"Don't make me get the tin man," Sam warned, "He'll bust down the door if you don't open up!"
She almost expected more knocks or at least a few more threats, but after five minutes of intense listening, she still hadn't heard anything. Finally, he was gone, allowing Janie to once again fall into a deep slumber, only to awaken sometime the next morning with another heartbreak hangover. She didn't even remember why she drank this time since she learned that drunkenness was not a state she could achieve, but the bottle had nothing but a few drops left inside nonetheless and the dried tears on her cheeks were a solid indication of what had happened the night before.
A rattling at the door startled her. She sat up in bed, watching through the open doorway that looked straight out onto the hallway how the lock on the front door twisted and turned like a dial. Her hands began to shake when the door opened, her heart hammering as blood rushed to her face.
"I didn't want to break in," Bucky said while he set foot inside, "Sam forced me to do it. Should probably get a better lock, though."
He looked around, initially unaware of her eyes on him. When he saw her, he sighed. He'd feared it would be like this, but the apartment looked like a hurricane had made its way inside and the woman rotting away in her bed looked even worse than he imagined. He cursed Steve under his breath and took a mental note to put him in his place. He shut the door behind him and took off his shoes and jacket, although he might as well have kept the shoes on. The house was a pigsty anyway.
"Jesus Christ, what have you been doing to yourself?" He asked, walking over towards her.
"What," she coughed, her voice dry and cracked, "what are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? You look like shit, you haven't had a decent meal in weeks and your apartment looks like a bomb exploded in it," he told her, "vodka, really? With the serum?"
"You don't even know me, James. Why do you care?"
"Listen to me. Steve," Janie cringed, "the guy was my best friend. I'm angry with him too, but you have to move on. It's not healthy for you to be cooped up in this place, no matter how much it hurts. Besides, there's no getting to know you if you allow yourself to rot away like this."
"He didn't love me," she said, eyes on her lap, "he lied."
"No, he didn't. Trust me when I tell you that I hadn't seen him so smitten since... trust me when I say that man cared about you a lot, more than you know." He patted her leg, offering a weak smile.
Steve had made Bucky promise him he'd look after her, so he would. The man knew what his actions had done, but he also knew it had been inevitable from the start. Still, he didn't want her to hurt.
"C'mon," he said, getting up from the bed, "Tell you what, you go take a shower and I'll help you clean up the mess, okay?"
"Why are you doing this?" she asked with watery eyes.
Bucky shrugged, "it's what friends do."
"Since when are we friends? I nearly got you brainwashed for good, remember?" She snorted.
"You took care of my best friend when I wasn't there to do it. Besides, you did bust me out of prison. C'mon, give an old man a break." He smiled softly, patting her knee.
He stretched out his arm for her to take. She reached out reluctantly, grabbing hold of his fingers so he could pull her up.
"Go take a shower, Adams. You smell like shit."
Two hours later, the two of them were sitting in Sam's apartment. Netflix played the third episode of a show Janie had already seen, but nobody was watching. A glass of lemonade stood on the coffee table in front of her, even though she requested whiskey. Bucky stood in the open doorframe, Sam sat beside her on his leather couch. The two men were talking, laughing, and joking while chowing down on Chinese takeout while she sat there, eyes on the TV but her thoughts elsewhere.
Bucky continued to bring her along for dinner and hangout sessions at Sam's place nearly every day for weeks until finally, the young woman found herself engaging in conversation with the two of them. Two months after he managed to drag her out of her apartment, Janie was going on runs with him every night, and four months after that, she was training every day. Still, she hadn't visited Steve, afraid that seeing him would cause her to spiral back into bad habits.
The guys quickly became her best friends. They dragged her out of bed every morning and forced her to engage in various activities, all to keep the thought of Steve from her mind. It was hard, the dreams of his touch still haunted Janie at night, but she was able to laugh again just for the time being.