Chapter Twenty-Eight: Relationship Purgatory
Weeks had passed since the Paris Incident (as Sarah
had dramatically dubbed it in her mind), and the emotional aftermath was
messier than any other of their previous fallouts. Communication between her
and Bucky had gone from hot and heavy to radio silence faster than you could
say Paris fantasy.
And Bucky, bless his emotionally constipated heart,
had decided that the best way to handle the situation was to pull a Houdini and
disappear into his work. Because nothing says "I'm dealing with my
feelings" quite like drowning yourself in missions. Since communication hadn’t
yet resumed, he interpreted Sarah’s silence as indifference. Which, combined
with Isaiah's not-so-helpful theory, left Bucky questioning their relationship more
than a contestant on Love Is Blind (a reference, thanks to Sarah, he totally
understood now, by the way).
Meanwhile, Sarah was riding the anxiety train, and
it was going full speed ahead. With no texts, calls, or brooding looks to analyse,
she found herself replaying their argument on a loop. The physical distance
between them felt like the Grand Canyon, and she couldn't exactly hop on a
plane for a spontaneous make-up hug whilst launching her music career.
Gone were the days when she could simply saunter
across the room, wrap her arms around his waist, or plop herself in his lap
with a pout that could melt even the Winter Soldier's icy resolve. No, this
time she couldn't rely on her tried-and-true tactics of batting her eyelashes
and whispering sweet nothings until he caved.
She knew that if the silence continued and neither of
them confronted the issue, the emotional distance would become too great to
bridge. Her fame, which she once thought would be her golden ticket to
happiness, was now creating more drama between them than a red carpet wardrobe
malfunction.
There was only one way out of this mess: they needed
to rip off the emotional Band-Aid and get real. It was time for some good
old-fashioned heart-to-heart, complete with ugly crying and passionate
declarations. Because at the end of the day, what they had was worth fighting
for. This whole ordeal would end up being just another chapter in their love
story. After all, what's a good romance without a little drama?
Althea rolled onto her side, propping her head up
with one hand. “What are your plans for the day? You can’t stay holed up in
your room or at the studio.”
“Why not?” Sarah hugged a silky pillow to her chest,
her voice muffled as she spoke into it.
“’Cause it isn’t healthy, for one. Don’t you have
promoting to do?”
“I’m free until after the wedding.”
"Well then, it's high time you wave your white
flag at Bucky, isn't it?"
Sarah groaned, flopping onto her back. "I
haven't exactly broadcast my New York arrival to him yet... Things are still
fifty shades of complicated, what with the way he left Paris. It’s relationship
purgatory.”
“Wait, you’re saying you guys haven’t talked since
then?”
Sarah chewed her lower lip, hesitating for a moment before
shaking her head. “I've been sprinkling my social media with Bucky breadcrumbs,
but he hasn't bitten once.”
“Ouch.”
“In his defence, it’s not like he sits on his phone
all day. For as long as I’ve known him, he only ever posts on social media when
he’s told to…”
Althea's lips curved into a stiff smile that
screamed "I'm not buying it". She'd been Team Bucky from the get-go, but
something in her gut was sending up red flags. Had Sarah's skyrocketing stardom
become too much for Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding to handle?
"I've been toying with the idea of a grand
romantic gesture," Sarah mused, "but Bucky's about as receptive to
those as I am to carbs. Any pearls of wisdom? Should I just ambush him at his
place like they do in the movies?"
Althea rolled her eyes so hard they nearly popped
out of their sockets, snatching Sarah's phone from the nightstand. "Honey,
please. That’s why man invented the smartphone. For men like Bucky, initiating
conversation is the grand gesture… It’s practically a marriage
proposal."
Sarah couldn't help but giggle, twirling a golden
lock around her finger as she delicately accepted her phone. Her heart hammered
against her chest as she dialled Bucky’s number. Weeks. It had been weeks
since his voice last graced her ears, and now, with each ring, the suspense
built like the climax of her favourite page-turner.
She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, her
body almost rigid with tension.
The ringing stopped, replaced by Bucky’s familiar,
albeit ridiculously simple, voicemail greeting. “This is Bucky. Leave a
message.”
Sarah’s heart sank, but she forced a cheerful tone
into her voice as she left her message. “Hey, I was hoping to catch you before
your day got crazy. I’m back in New York so I, uhm… I really wanted to come
over and make things right between us… Give me a call when you get this,
okay?"
She hung up, her shoulders slumping. Althea squeezed
her hand reassuringly. "He's probably just busy."
Sarah nodded, but her fingers were already scrolling
through her contacts. She paused at Natasha’s name; she figured there’d be a
33.3% chance he was with her. The phone rang twice before Nat’s voice came
through, slightly breathless.
“Nat, hey. Is Bucky working with you today? He’s not
answering any of my calls.”
“Sarah, I’m sorry, now’s not a really good time. But
the last I saw Barnes was late last night with Tony. Maybe try him?”
Sarah’s free hand twisted in the bedsheets. “Yeah,
of course. Thanks, Nat. I’m sorry to be a bother.”
She ended the call, her brow furrowed. Althea
watched her expectantly as she dialled another number.
“Tony, hey, hi, is Bucky there?” Sarah chirped into
the phone.
The urgency of her voice took Tony by surprise, but
not enough to withhold his signature sarcasm. "Well, hello to you too,
Miss Superstar. Yes, I'm absolutely fabulous, thanks for asking. Loving the new
album, by the way. How's gay Paree treating you?"
Sarah mentally face-palmed, her perfectly waxed
brows furrowing. "Oh, God, I'm sorry Tony. I'm being a total diva, aren't
I? I'm actually back home with Lily. How about you? How's life in the land of
the genetically gifted?"
"Relax, cupcake. I'm just yanking your chain.
Looking for your brooding boy toy?"
"Y-yeah," Sarah stammered, twirling a
strand of hair nervously. "Nat mentioned he was with you last night?"
"Hmm, hold onto your Louboutins for a
sec."
Sarah's ears perked up at the sound of rapid-fire clacking
on the other end. Whatever Tony was up to, it sounded as promising as a
last-minute seat upgrade to first class... back when she relied on Carter
money, of course. Suddenly, the typing stopped, followed by Tony's sharp intake
of breath.
"Huh… That's weird," he muttered, more to
himself than to Sarah.
"What's weird?"
"His tracker's gone MIA. Looks like Barnes
decided to ghost us all… electronically speaking."
Sarah's eyes widened to the size of golf balls,
meeting Althea's concerned gaze. "What do you mean, MIA? Can't you just...
I don't know, wave your tech-wizard wand and bring him back on the radar?"
"Oh, honey, if only it were that simple,"
Tony replied, his fingers flying across the keys again. "When it's off,
it's off. Barnes wanted it that way. He wanted the freedom to go dark."
Althea, sensing the shift in mood, placed a
comforting hand on Sarah's arm. "What is it?" she mouthed silently.
Sarah shook her head slightly, her mind racing. "Tony,"
she said finally, "what exactly does this mean?"
The typing stopped again, followed by Tony's heavy sigh.
"I don't know, kid, I’m sorry. Try your sister. They’ve clocked in quite a
few hours together, too."
The mere thought of needing Sharon's help sent a
chill down Sarah's spine colder than a breakup text. "Yeah, I'll...
consider that nuclear option. Thanks, Tony."
As Sarah hung up, she felt like she'd just stepped
off a roller coaster… dizzy, slightly nauseous, and wondering why she'd gotten
on in the first place. The hunt for her missing Prince Charming was turning
into a twisted fairy tale, and she was starting to think this story might not
have the happily ever after she'd been hoping for.
Catherine’s heart pounded as she raced down the
narrow Harlem alley, her boots splashing through puddles. Ahead, their suspect
darted around a corner. She glanced at her partner Tess, exchanging a quick nod
before they split up—Tess heading west while Cat veered east.
The alley opened onto a desolate street lined with
boarded-up storefronts and crumbling brownstones. Cat’s eyes darted left and
right, searching for any sign of movement. A flash of motion caught her
attention—a door swinging shut on an abandoned building across the street.
She approached cautiously, her fingers wrapping
around the grip of her weapon. The door creaked as she eased it open, revealing
a dark, musty interior. She moved deeper into the building, her senses on high
alert.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind her. Cat whirled
around, weapon raised, her finger hovering near the trigger. Her eyes widened
as they met those of the attractive figure standing in the doorway. As he
strode toward her, all the tension drained from her shoulders, her arms
lowering slightly as recognition dawned.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed, her
heart racing for reasons she refused to confront. “People could see you here
with me… My partner could see you! There are reasons I want you to keep
a low profile. You know that.”
His lips quirked into an infuriating half-smile.
"Couldn't let you have all the fun, could I?"
"This isn't a game. You shouldn't be
here."
"Me? You shouldn’t be here,” he
countered, his eyes sweeping the building before settling back on her. "What
are you doing in Harlem, anyway?"
“I’m not bound to a desk in Manhattan. My job takes
me all over the city.”
“Yeah,” he scoff-laughed, his eyes fixed on hers as
he stepped closer, “as evidenced by the subway situation the other night…”
“Bucky, please… you’ve gotta leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Cat grabbed his arm, willing him to listen to her.
"This isn't your job. You're compromising my investigation."
“I said I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, his
tone leaving no room for argument. “Not while you’re working this case on the
side. You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with. These people are ruthless.”
Bucky’s gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of
something akin to affection passing over his features. “Let me help you,”
he said softly, stepping closer. “I have
contacts, resources…”
Cat turned away, trying to ignore the warmth that
spread through her chest at his concern.
“Bucky, I appreciate that. I do. But I don’t need
your help. I have contacts and resources of my own. I never meant for you to
get dragged into this.”
Bucky shook his head, that stubborn set to his jaw
she’d come to know over the past two weeks, but remained silent.
“I have to go… Please, don’t follow me.”
Without hesitation, Bucky stepped forward, blocking
her path. “Wait. At least let me do the running around for you. Find out who
the real players are. It’s never as straightforward as it seems; there are
always layers. You’re a detective, you know that.”
Cat’s jaw clenched. “Bucky, I said no. Stay out of
it.”
Sarah hovered at the entrance of Sharon and Steve's
palatial upstate nest. This wasn't just Carter money at play, she mused. No way
Sharon's trust fund could've bankrolled this slice of domestic heaven. Nope,
this was a monument to their power couple status… the Brangelina of
S.H.I.E.L.D., if you will (if this were still 2004). Swallowing a lump the size
of her last royalty check, she forced herself to cross the threshold.
Her eyes devoured the pristine kitchen. She could
almost see Sharon there, giggling like a schoolgirl as she channelled her inner
Nigella Lawson, with Steve wrapped around her waist.
The living room beckoned next, and Sarah's traitorous
imagination—that drama-loving diva—went into overdrive, conjuring up visions of
them curled up together, her head on his chest as they binge-watched some sappy
rom-com.
Turning back, Sarah’s gaze locked onto an entryway table
near the staircase. The movie in her head rolled on… Steve, fresh from saving
the world (again), tossing his leather jacket on the coat tree by the door, eyes
dark with desire. Sharon, waiting for him, sat on the edge of that very table.
His hands would grip her hips, lifting her...
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, willing the mental
film reel to stop. But oh no, it persisted like a stubborn ex, taunting her
with the life that could've been hers. She pressed a hand to her stomach,
fighting a wave of nausea. This house, this life… it was the stuff of her
vision board, the dream she'd Pinterest-ed to death. And now? Now, it was all
her sister's.
Sarah took a shaky breath, forcing herself to focus
on why she was here. She had to get through this visit, had to paste on a smile
and pretend her heart wasn't shattering with every step.
“Quite a place you have here, Agent. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s
doing an outstanding job keeping you lovebirds happy, huh? You must be so
proud.”
"What can I do for you, little sis?" Sharon
began, her lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"What brings the famous actress to my humble abode?"
The underlying smugness in Sharon's voice made Sarah’s
skin crawl. But she swallowed hard and forced a smile, trying to ignore her
sister’s perfect life.
“I was hoping you could help me…”
Sharon's eyebrows arched, poorly concealed
satisfaction flickering across her face. "Oh? And what could I possibly do
for you that your Hollywood connections can't?"
“I’m looking for Bucky… Tony thought you’d maybe
know his whereabouts.”
“You came here looking for Barnes? Really?”
“Like I said, Tony thought you’d–”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time," Sharon
interrupted, “and I’m not buying it. You could have called… hell, you could
have texted. But you chose to come over.”
Sarah fought to keep her expression neutral. She
could feel the sting of her sister's eyes on her, searching for cracks in her
façade, revelling in this reversed power dynamic.
“It’s no secret we don’t have the best relationship.
I thought asking for your help in person was the civil thing to do.”
Sharon scoff-laughed, shaking her head
condescendingly. “Well, I’m afraid your damsel act has come to naught. Steve’s
not even home… and I’ve no clue where Barnes could be.”
The ballroom sparkled like a thousand stars had
fallen from the sky, filled with the chatter of long-lost relatives and the
kind of music that made even the stiffest great-aunt's toes tap. Cat glided
through the crowd, doling out air kisses to a parade of family members she'd
need a flowchart to navigate. She'd been about as excited for her father's
wedding as she was for root canal, but catching his megawatt smile from across
the room, she knew she'd made the right call.
Later, as she swayed on the dance floor with a
cousin so distant he might as well have been from Mars, Cat’s thoughts drifted.
Bucky’s face swam into her mind—those concerned eyes, the stubborn set of his
jaw. She could almost hear his voice, insisting on staying.
"You alright, dear?" her cousin's voice
snapped her back to reality.
Cat blinked, pasting on a bright smile. "Just
feeling a tad overheated. If you'll excuse me..."
She beelined for the floor-to-ceiling windows, craving
a moment of solitude. As she gazed out at the cityscape, she wondered where
Bucky was. The last time she'd seen him, she'd told him in no uncertain terms
to leave her alone. And now, for a brief moment, she feared he might have
actually listened.
************************
Bucky’s fingers flew across his phone, decoding Tess’
encrypted messages in search of Cat’s location. He pocketed the device, gritting
his teeth as guilt coursed through him. This was beyond breaching privacy; he’d
just hacked into the personal mobile of a US law enforcement official. But he
shoved his pesky conscience aside, convincing himself it was all in the name of
protecting another official.
In moments, he was astride his motorcycle, the
engine roaring to life. The city blurred around him as he wove through traffic,
his mind focused on one thing only.
As he approached the hotel, Bucky’s eyes scanned the
surrounding buildings. Without hesitation, he dismounted, sprinting toward a
nearby structure. His muscles burned as he scaled the fire escape, leaping from
one level to the next with insane ease.
Five gravity-defying leaps later, Bucky found
himself on the rooftop opposite the hotel. He crouched on a ledge, his breath
coming in short gasps. His eyes searched the glittering façade of the hotel,
finally locking onto a familiar figure.
There she was.
Cat stood near the window, bathed in the soft glow
of the reception lights. Bucky’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of
her in a dress, a far cry from her usual tough-girl,
could-kick-your-butt-six-ways-to-Sunday look. It was like spotting a unicorn at
a petting zoo. Once again, Isaiah’s words came to mind: “…fight it if you
want. But even time and distance won’t do shit to stop that feeling in the pit
of your stomach. You know the feeling… kinda feels like acid reflux after
Thanksgiving dinner, only worse…? That inexplicable pull will remain strong and
constant no matter what…”
************************
Meanwhile, across town, Sarah was doing her best Black
Widow impression, reaching above Bucky’s doorframe for the spare key. Her heart
pounded in her chest as her fingers found the key exactly where she knew it
would be. Score one for predictable boy behaviour!
Stepping into Bucky’s little apartment felt like
walking into a time capsule of their relationship—familiar yet oddly foreign,
like trying on last year's jeans. Sarah wandered through the space, her fingers
trailing over surfaces as if she were reading their love story in avant-garde braille. She mentally rehearsed her speech, hoping it sounded less
like a desperate rom-com monologue and more like the heartfelt confession of a
mature woman who definitely hadn't spent the last week obsessing over
this moment.
As the hours ticked by, with no sign of her brooding
beau, Sarah found herself curled up on his bed. She flipped through an old
magazine she'd left behind, briefly wondering if the dating advice within was
as outdated as her current ambush/grand gesture.
The soft creak of the floorboard may as well have
been a foghorn for how it made Sarah’s head snap up. There stood Bucky in the
doorway, looking like he'd just seen a ghost... if ghosts wore silk slips that
cost more than his monthly rent and rocked beachy waves that belonged on a
shampoo commercial.
Sarah's face lit up like Times Square on New Year's
Eve. But Bucky? His eyes ping-ponged around the room, never quite meeting hers.
"Hey... I, uh... I heard you were back,"
he mumbled.
Sarah’s smile dimmed. This was hardly the passionate
reunion she'd scripted in her head during those long, lonely nights. Where was
the Bucky she knew? The one with charm oozing from every pore, always armed
with a sharp quip? This guy looked… what, was that guilt?
"Bucky...?" she ventured, sitting up
slowly, feeling like she was trying to coax a spooked animal. "Is
something wrong?”
She held her breath, waiting for his response. In
that moment, Sarah realised that all her carefully rehearsed speeches had flown
out the window. Now, she was improvising in the scariest show of all... real
freaking life, where there were no commercial breaks or convenient plot twists
to save her.
Thank you so much for reading! 🙏 Your support means the world to me, so if you enjoyed this chapter, please show some love by liking the video and leaving a comment
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