advanced | PSL for Renart

[It's late when Renart comes by Bucky's place. She's been out all day - since early this morning, in fact - and when she does she's an anxious mess. Her tail is curled tightly around herself and she bangs on the door, not at all concerned about being impolite. There isn't really any time to be polite when she's dealing with an emergency.]

Bucky? Bucky!

[She isn't sure who else to go to. Undertaker? She isn't really speaking to him. Maybe Gabriel or Royce or, hell, even Sherlock and John if Bucky isn't home.]

[Even after all this time, he still rarely spends time in his house. But out of deference for Renart and John, both of who worry about him, he tries to spend at least one or two evenings a week there.

It's lucky that this is one of them.

He's not expecting a house call and he nearly goes for a weapon before he hears who's voice it is coming through the door. It's only a few seconds after that when he's pulling the thick steel door open, looking down at her in concern.]

Renart? What is it?

I can't find Monty.

[She's blurting that out as soon as his door opens. At least she takes a deep breath, to try and calm herself down a bit before explaining.]

I went over to Monty's place this morning and he wasn't there. His home was completely empty, even his mailbox was gone.

[She's speaking rapidly, digging her fingers into her tail.]

I tried hunting him down, but every scent of his I could find was old.

[He remembers that feeling of anxious disbelief when Steve's house disappeared and his stomach sinks. He can't pretend that he's personally sorry that Monty is gone, he thinks the man was dangerous in multiple ways, but it's going to devastate Renart.]

Renart, you know what that means.

[It's hesitant and soft, stepping aside as an invitation to come in.]

He's gone, Unlost.

He might not be.

[She knows how unlikely that is, but the thought of Monty actually being gone is hard to take. Which is ridiculous, she knew this couldn't last, she was fully aware of this.

She knew it, but she never actually prepared for it.]

We should keep looking. Two people are better than one, you know?

[Needless to say she isn't going inside yet.]

[He just watches her for a moment, expression inscrutable as he decides what the best course of action would be here. He could keep her here, he's proven that he can take her in a fight if he has to, but she wouldn't thank him for it.

She knows the truth, she's not stupid, she's just desperate. It makes his heart hurt. She needs to come to this on her own, even if it means a few hours futile searching.]

Okay.

[He sets out of his house and closes the door.]

Where do you want me to start?

[This is so dumb, but she already feels a little bit better that he's willing to help (or rather, humour her).

Looking away, she starts glancing around.]

Maybe... I don't know, maybe the mountains? Or the islands? I don't really go to the islands.

[It's so stupid, there's no way he'd be out there alone without telling her.]

[It's a long distance to go for a wild goose chase, both locations are remote and not the easiest to get to. It doesn't stop him nodding without hesitation. If this is what she needs, he'll be here to do it for her.]

I can take either, but I know you're good in the snow, right? So I'll go to the islands.

[He's not much of a sailor, but he can probably swim there.]

Okay.

[That sounds good. They can split up and cover more ground.]

I'll meet back up with you here this evening.

[She hesitates, then adds:]

Thank you. For helping.

[He isn't exactly the best person to ask when it comes to something involving Monty, but she's very desperate.]

[It's not for Monty he's doing this, and he's not actually expecting to find him anywhere. If his house is gone, if his mailbox has disappeared, then he's not in the Meadous any more.]

Any time.

[He lets his hand rest briefly on her shoulder, giving it a fortifying squeeze, before he sets off for the beach. He could just stay on the beach all day, he knows Monty isn't at the islands, but he said he'd go and look and so he does.

It's pretty late evening when he makes it back, soaking wet and shaking out hair that's matted with salt water.]

[He's wonderful, she owes him after this.

She heads out to the mountains, not bothering to stop by her place to get some winter clothing before trying to hunt down Monty's scent. There's nothing of course, but she still has to look anyway. She even finds Winter and her kids and asks whether they've seen him around. They haven't, of course.

She's still out anyways, and she gets back to Bucky's place shortly after he does, still chilly and the reality of things finally settling in. Her arms are wound tightly around herself when she approaches him, partly from shock and partly from the cold.]

He's gone, isn't he? He's really gone.

[He's still dressed in wet clothes, but he abandons the towel that he'd been using to stop the worst of the dripping from his hair and walks over to wrap her in the tightest hug that he can one-armed.]

Yeah.

[No point lying about it, comforting platitudes aren't going to make him come back. What she needs is to let go for a few minutes, let herself shake and cry and fall apart, he can hold her while she does.]

I've got you, Renart.

[That he's soaking wet doesn't bother her - rather, it isn't something she notices, as she'd normally chide him for being irresponsible. She's a little too distracted by the reality of the situation as it finally sets in: Monty is gone, somewhere, probably home, and the chances of her seeing him again are so small they might as well be zero.

She leans against Bucky, still trembling, her voice soft and shaky.]

He's....

[And she bursts into tears, unable to keep the feelings of devastation from rising up and taking over.]

[He privately thinks they're all better off for Monty being gone, even her. She might have loved him, but people fell in love with bad people all the time. Judgement in love is never something anyone is smart about.

Not that he's going to voice as much, he's not cruel.

He just winds his arm tighter around her and lets her cry.]

I know, it's okay. Just breathe.

[She feels foolish for the outburst and tries to listen to Bucky, sucking in short breaths in between sobs. It's silly to be crying practically in public when she knew things would never last. She knew there was a time limit.

This hurts, and if someone she doesn't like sees her breaking down so easily it's going to hurt even more.]

I - I'm okay.

[She isn't, but she's trying her damnedest to calm down.]

[He gently tries to manouver her further into the house so that he can shut the door and keep things private between them, but he doesn't want her to think that he's pushing her away when she needs an embrace and so he ends up doing a sort of ungainly shuffle.]

No, you're not.

[It's soft and firm.]

And that's okay, being not okay is what you should be right now. It's what proves you cared about him, missing him like this.

[She readily moves into his house, grateful for the privacy.]

I -

[She needs to take a few more breaths before she can start talking again, shove everything down so that she can pretend she's okay.]

I knew this would happen eventually.

Does it change how you felt? Would you do it differently?

[They're mostly rhetorical questions, though he'll listen if she wants to actually answer.]

Everything ends.

[Those questions are too hard for her to answer, she just hiccoughs and sniffles miserably.]

I don't.

[That's the problem with having relationships, they're ephemeral and she isn't.]

I don't end.

One day you will.

[He understands what it means to be tired of life, of seeing people die and disappear while you continue, and he's nowhere near as old as she is. Most people wouldn't think a reassurance of their demise is a good comforting tactic, but Bucky isn't most people.

It would comfort him.]

Not even stories last forever.

[Renart can only shake her head stubbornly, and while she might regret saying this later when she's processed everything, right now she doesn't care how vulnerable it makes her.]

Only if my Story is destroyed. Otherwise....

[Otherwise she's stuck here, watching everyone else live and die.]

[He hums sympathetically. He can't lie and say she won't ever lose anyone again, and he doesn't know how best to comfort her because he has a feeling that he'd likely destroy his own Story if that was how it worked for him. If that was the only way out and everyone left to fight for had gone.

So he stays silent for a moment or two to think about what best to say, simply holding her in the meantime.]

Then he won't be destroyed either, will he? Him or any of the others you've lost, they're all in the pages. Everything you ever did or said or thought together, right?

[He isn't wrong. Her Story contains innumerable accounts of other people, Monty included. She nods solemnly, rubbing at her eyes.]

All my memories of him are in there.

[On the other hand, that's all she has left of him. Memories. But that's how it always is.]

I can't bring him back, so I need to be okay with only having those memories.

In the end, that's all most of us have left of the people we've lost.

[She loses more than most, but the grief of being left with only memories is a universal thing.]

It's okay to not be okay with it for now, but one day you'll be able to read his stuff in your Story and smile even though he's not with you any more.

[She knows she isn't unique, but it still hurts. It's too raw right now, and she can't deal with this pain the way she usually does, by running away, so she's left feeling scared and adrift.]

I don't think I'll ever smile at my memories of him.

[The pain of losing him won't ever fully go away.

Renart draws in a deep breath, taking a step back from him. She looks terrible after that bout of crying but she doesn't want to think about that.]

I shouldn't have bothered you with any of this. I'm sorry, it's my problem, not yours.

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cw: suicidal tendencies

cw: suicidal tendencies

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