Anyone in the MCU fandom that’s into Gamora, Valkyrie, Valmora, the Guardians, and Revengers that knows how to use goggle docs and into being a co-beta reader/help with plot?
You’d sound completely insane if you ever told anyone your greatest secret. Even so, you’ve often found yourself wondering how someone would react just on the off change that you did decide to share it with them. Would they laugh it off as a good joke? Scoff while telling you you’re an attention seeker? Hell, insist it enough and they might ship you off to an asylum.
To be honest, it hasn’t always been a secret. As a child, you were rather open towards expressing yourself and your inner thoughts, but of course, children are allowed to talk nonsense, aren’t they. Back then, people would just smile, impressed by your extremely detailed imagination and very ‘mature’ personality for someone so young. By the time you reached middle school, however, it was no longer cute to insist you don’t need school since you already have two PhD’s and will be eighty-four in the summer which, in your opinion at least, was far too old to be stuck with preteens gossiping about boy bands and wearing revealing shorts that barely covered their butts.
When the weird stares and hurtful mocking became apparent, you learned to keep your mouth shut and maintain the secret that you are two people at once…and no, this isn’t a case of personality disorder; you ruled out that conclusion by the time you were fourteen. No, this is a case of having been reborn again sixteen years after dying yet somehow maintaining all the memories your past life had experienced.
Beyond anyone else’s understanding and sometimes even your own, your story technically began on July 21st, 1919, in Richford, New York when you had been born as the second child and daughter of a far more modest Stark family. Your parents, ever so old fashioned, decided to keep with the 'H’ theme they began with your brother, naming you Hollie. As Hollie, you lived a wonderful life, having a fair share of both love and heartache before being murdered in 1974 which you honestly could’ve done without.
While death usually marks the end of most people’s stories, apparently good old Hollie Stark was too stubborn to go out after round one, instead deciding to come back as (Y/n) (L/n) in 1990; a life you’ve been living for the last twenty years now.
Despite how much you enjoy your life as (Y/n), it hasn’t been easy starting over again. You carry all the knowledge that comes with having navigated life once before and, with that said, the connections you had made as Hollie still hold strong within your heart yet remain high out of reach for someone as ordinary and young as (Y/n).
Regardless of whether others believe it, deep down you know that you are Hollie and long for the life that had been stolen from her throughout countless moments of her time. You miss your brother and nephew, you miss your best friend as well as the good you did together for the world, and most importantly of all, you miss your beloved James Buchanan Barnes; the man Hollie’s heart had been set on marrying only for the war to tear him out of grasp.
Most of whom you love are gone as are the exact opportunities you had as Hollie, but as you’ve come to stubbornly conclude, that doesn’t necessarily mean (Y/n) can’t try to follow in some of her footsteps, too.
“(L/n), he’ll be seeing you now.”
You stand to your feet with your resume folder in hand, bowing your head with a polite smile to the receptionist as you pass by into the office. While you’ve learned long ago not to ever get your hopes up, you can’t help but feel a bubble of confidence as you take another seat, eagerly prepared to start living your life where the previous one left off.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Director Fury. My name is (Y/n) (L/n).”
OVERVIEW: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinishedbusiness, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.
NOTE:Reader will use the name Hollie Stark and female pronouns during or when referring to past events, but will be use (Y/n) (L/n) and gender neutral for current events.
Summary: Two years after Marc’s return, life with him and Steven seems to be going the way you always wanted it to, until blood starts to drip again.
Warnings:Pregnancy, blood loss, possible death, breastfeeding kink? (Steven).
Feedback is really appreciated! If you like this comment please!
Italics are flashbacks!
Gif credits to their respective owner!
“Oh, Marc…” she moaned, throwing her head back as she felt herself on the verge of climax. Marc, who was underneath her, gripped her hips firmly and set a faster pace, further increasing the pleasure for both of them.
“Hold on a little longer, baby.” He growled after biting his lips and watching his wife, bouncing on top of him. He brought one of his hands to her clitoris and began massaging it again. She was so overstimulated, the slightest touch caused her to roll her eyes at the incredible sensation. “You’re a fucking goddess- Ah- Fuck, baby!” He brought one of his hands to one of her breasts and pinched the nipple.
“Kiss me. Marc, kiss me.” She moaned at the oncoming wave of pleasure. Marc slipped his arm around her waist, bringing them closer together. Or as close as possible. “Fuck, fuck. Come inside me. Oh—.”
Marc kissed her, and she finished, letting out a majestic moan that ended up encouraging the dark-eyed man to finish too, inside her, in the most intimate way possible.
“We’re very good at this.” He joked as he rested his forehead against hers and sighed contentedly.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him rather shyly. “So good that we ended up like this.” She whispered tenderly as she lowered her gaze to her belly, now rounded and covered with a thin layer of sweat, just like the rest of her and her husband’s body.
Marc brought the hand he had been holding at her waist up to her belly, which he caressed tenderly.
“Mourning for me is to give importance to something, to learn to live, to honour something. You have to name it and explore it, whether it was something that happened or not.”
“Like that life we could never have?”
“For example.”
“It still seems like a dream that we’ve come this far, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” He replied, “The life we thought we could never have… it turns out we’ve managed to create it. Quite literally.”
"I’m glad to be able to do it with you.” She caressed her husband’s face, looking intently at every detail of his beautiful face. At last, after so many years of suffering, it reflected serenity. “Steven and you are going to be the best thing our daughter could have. She’s very lucky, I’m very lucky too.”
“Lucky us, darling.” Steven spoke, taking control, for the first time in a while. He looked at her with awe and devotion, as if she were one of the Egyptian deities that fascinated him so much.
They loved her, they were lucky.
“I couldn’t agree more with Steven.” Marc said now.
After hearing those words, she kissed him. Well, them. Lovingly and passionately.
Round 2 perhaps was coming?
It was 3:17 in the morning when things started to get complicated. To get ugly.
An immense pain ran through her abdomen and back. Everything was spinning, she felt weak. Really weak. A few moments after trying to overcome the feeling of dizziness, she felt something wet and warm between her legs. She tried to sit up again and awkwardly put a hand to her crotch.
“No, no, no. No… it can’t be, it’s still too early.” whispered in panic. “Marc…!” She tried to call out to her husband in the darkness, she couldn’t see anything. “Marc?” She received no answer. “Ste-Steven?”
Trying to find the switch for the lamp, which was on the bedside table, another wave of pain came over her, but this time with much more intensity, causing her to groan in pain and clutch her belly. Once the light was on, she looked at her hand, which she had previously taken to the wet spot to see what it was.
However, she did not expect to find blood on it. Panicking, she pulled back the sheets that covered her and was able to see the whole thing, horrified and shocked.
Blood. A lot of blood.
The side of the bed where she slept was awash with the warm dark scarlet liquid. It wasn’t until she could smell it that she turned her head in the direction of the side where her husband used to sleep. “Marc.” She said panicking, her face pale, lacking its usual colour. Tears began to form. Marc was missing.
“So if it’s a girl, do you want to name her Layla?” Steven asked her as he tried to assemble the baby’s crib
“Yes.” Replied the soon-to-be-mom as she rocked in the chair, stroking her not-so-swollen belly. “Why? Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
Steven shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, the name is beautiful and I adore Layla…but do you think it’s a good idea to name your daughter after your husband’s ex-girlfriend?” Steven asked, tightening one of the screws on the crib. He looked at the woman who hadn’t answered him.
“I have you both because of her. She’s the one who made Marc come back to me, who made him come to his senses to fight for us and not let his fears get the better of him. Thanks to her I have you too, Steven.” She paused slightly as she stood up and walked over to stand next to him, where she sat down on the floor next to the man. “She’s a great person, and a very dear friend. I feel it’s the least I can do.”
“Well…” said Steven, placing a hand on his wife’s, squeezing it lovingly, as he nodded his head. “It sounds like the right name for our daughter. Well… in case it’s a girl.”
She planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad we agree.” She whispered with a goofy grin.
“I didn’t say I agreed.” Marc intervened in the conversation, being the one who took control of the body.
The woman sighed. “Ugh, Marc…” she complained, dropping her head on his shoulder.
“I like the name, I really do, but I think we’re overdoing it. I think it’s a little weird that my wife wants to name our daughter after my ex. Nothing more.” Spoke the soon-to-be-dad in an accelerated manner.
“And what do you think our daughter should be named?” she folded her arms, waiting for an answer from the dark-haired man.
“Well… I’m not sure, but I like this nickname, as a diminutive of-”
”-Tattie. He likes Tattie, as a nickname.“ Steven interrupted Marc, who as he regained control of his body frowned.
"Steven…” sighed Marc in exasperation.
“And what the hell is Tattie diminutive of?”
“Well, it’s short for-”
“-Taweret!” Steven cut Marc off again.
“Steven!” Marc exclaimed. “Stop interrupting me.”
“You want to call our daughter Taweret!?” Exclaimed the female before letting out a laugh. “I love Taweret, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to name our daughter after an Egyptian goddess. She’d get bullied at the playground. And besides, if I’m not mistaken, in Scotland they use that word for the potatoes. I think.”
“Hey, I didn’t laugh when you said Leyla. Besides, she’s the one who helped us get back from the Duat.”
The woman stopped laughing when she heard that part. The fact that she had discovered that Marc had died when he had left her to protect her was something that every time the subject came up, she shuddered. She felt guilty in a way, responsible for not being able to stop him from leaving, from dying. She always felt her heart sinking.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. You’re right, it makes sense that you would want to call our daughter that.” As she spoke, he caressed her cheeks and then placed a kiss on her forehead, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his lips on her. “But now that I think about it… Tattie makes sense, the baby won’t be much bigger than a potato now.”
“Small potato!” Steven exclaimed bringing his face close to the level of her belly. “Oi! How’s it going in there, sweetheart?”
She giggled, as she listened intently to the nonsense, the caresses and kisses that landed on her belly Marc and Steven, as they took turns doing it.
“You’re going to be a show as parents.” She commented in a murmur, shaking my head.
When she tried to get out of bed her whole body was shaking and everything was spinning, as she clumsily moved towards the door awkwardly, she kept calling out for her husband, who showed no signs of life.
“Where could he have gone?” she thought, over and over again. “Marc… Steven? I-I need you-” she tried to hold back her sobs.
It couldn’t be possible that this was happening.
“Guys…” she couldn’t hold back her sobs as she looked down at her legs and saw that her pajama trousers were completely stained with blood. She looked down at the floor as well, and could see the trail of blood she had been leaving from the bed to the door of her room. “Tattie…” she moaned in pain, in tears, as she put both hands to her belly.
She couldn’t lose her. Not her baby.
Not now.
“I want to try something. Well, Steven wants to try something.” Marc moaned as he thrusted inside her, again and again, fast and hard. Just the way she liked it so much.
God, how they loved to feel and hear her. To praise her, to touch her, to kiss her, to pleasure her.
“Oh? What-what do you want to try? You know you can- Fuck! Ow- oh! He can try anything he wants. He-he ah! He knows.” She closed her eyes, as she felt her husband’s lips on her neck, slowly moving down to her breasts, now larger and rounder due to her state. “Ahh… Steven do whatever you want to me. I’m yours, completely.”
Steven continued to thrust inside her with the same intensity. “You don’t know how much I love to hear that, darling.” He said, giving her a look, watching as she closed her eyes at the pleasure coursing through her body.
Seeing her reaction to his touch.
Then he took one of her breasts into his mouth and began to suck on it, not forgetting, of course, to massage the other one and play with her sensitive nipple.
“Sweet.” He murmured after his first taste of that white liquid that first came out of her breast. “You have no idea how sweet you are.”
“Don’t even think about stopping.” She moaned, clinging her legs to his hips as she ran her hands through his hair.
And so he continued.
The house was completely dark, except for the small light coming from down the hallway and passing under the bathroom door at the end of the hall. She could hear water running, possibly from the shower. It sounded like someone was in there.
“Steven?” she encouraged herself to ask in the dark, in a faint voice, as she slowly made her way forward, leaning against the wall. “Something’s not right. The baby…” she tried to contain herself, once again. “Something’s not right.”
Her legs failed as she stumbled over something on the floor. She fell to her knees and hands, and that’s when she came across something she hadn’t expected to see.
A gun, large caliber.
What the fuck?
She looked up as she heard the water stop, and could see a shadow, underneath the door, moving towards to open it.
It was a Sunday afternoon, the weather was fine and the breeze was warm, that was the day he first said those words.
“I love you.” Steven broke the silence, looking down at her. She was holding his head in her lap and playing with his hair. They were lying on the grass in the park, the one not far from their house. It was her favourite, because of simple details like that. “I love you.” He repeated with a big smile on his face.
“I love you too.” It was the first time they’d both said it, even though they’d already spent two years getting to know each other and living together as a couple. Well, as a trio rather. “Very much.”
“Fucking finally, man. I’m glad you said it already.” Marc commented, taking control of his body. “But just so you know, I was here first, Steven.” Marc joked.
“I love you too, Mr. Spector.”
“I know. How not to.”
“You cheeky bastard.”
That man, who appeared to be Marc or Steven, leaned against the door frame, arms folded, as he stared at her silently. He had a towel tied around his waist, water dripping down the rest of his body, from his tousled, curly hair. He looked at her with curiosity
“I need help…”
“I can see that.” Said that familiar, yet unfamiliar voice. It was like Marc and Steven’s, but different. More indifferent. Cold. Distant.
She gave him a glance right after hearing his words, she could see him approaching her. “There is too much blood.” He commented as he looked at the huge stain on her pajamas and the trail she had left behind her. “It’s not all yours though, don’t worry.”
It was then, thanks to the bathroom light that now illuminated the entire hallway, that she could see a pile of clothes, which belonged to her boys, stained with blood next to her. “Who the fuck are you?” She asked him through her teeth.
“Oh, right. We’ve never met before.” Spoke the man she didn’t recognise, as he squatted down in front of her. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to hide and not give any indication of my existence. It’s exhausting.”
She let out a grunt at what had been the worst wave of pain she had ever felt. She could feel more blood welling up, too, and trickling down her thighs to the floor. Still, she never took her eyes off the stranger.
Everything began to spin more and more. She knew she would not be conscious much longer.
“Excuse my manners, bonita.” He let out a small laugh, then grabbed her chin and made her look him in the eye. “My name is Jake Lockley, and I am the new owner of this body.”
Her arms and knees failed her, she fell back to the ground. She struggled to stay awake, to stay alert. She could feel, still, familiar arms pick her up off the ground and carry her firmly. She could smell their scent, Marc and Steven’s. That comforted her.
She didn’t know where the man was taking her. Jake Lockley. She didn’t have time to worry either, because everything went black.
She no longer felt anything.
But deep down she hoped that everything was going to be all right.
This weekend, hopefully tonight, I’ll post the second part of I CAN ALMOST SEE YOU! There will be a bit of Smut, Fluff, and Angst. We will also have Soft!Marc and Soft!Steven! So if you’re interested and want me to tag you, just interact with this post and check the fist part, perhaps?✨
Warnings:My blog is 18+ and though there’s no smut in this piece, minors DNI. Domestic abuse, break up, humiliation, mutual pining, friends in love, drink driving, car accident, coma, chasing justice/vigilante attitudes, fairy tales, Disney, fluff, lots of angst, anger, guilt, happy ever afters
Prompt: Fairy tale
A/N: So this is my contribution to the 500 follower writing challenge hosted by @tom-whore-dleston It’s a new one for me because I’ve had to use a fairy tale for this one. So I’ve tried to use the fairy tale to feed into a modern situation and at the same time reflect that the same fairy tale has importance to the reader. Sleeping Beauty is an important one to me as the first feature length Disney cartoon I watched, and I was in awe of it.
This hasn’t been beta read and all of my mistakes are my own. Please feel free to like, comment and/or reblog as I look forward to feedback and interacting with people who choose to read my work. I appreciate you all. I hope you enjoy it.
She was Steve’s. The point being ‘was’. Where was he now as she lay in the hospital bed in a coma? She was Steve’s but he never really cared for her. He picked her as the perfect smoke screen and made everyone believe he was in love. She was Steve’s, it was the excuse that always stopped Bucky from admitting his true feelings for her. She was Steve’s, the line she repeated in her head like a mantra even though she didn’t love him, she loved someone else and was terrified of Steve. She was Steve’s until he decided it was right for him and Peggy to go public by breaking up with Y/N via a Snapchat post, not even a one-to-one message but a post of him and Peggy while saying ‘Y/N, I got myself a real woman’ and it was posted for all to see. She was Steve’s no longer and was fighting for her life after a drunk truck driver careered into her car.
Bucky hadn’t left her side, the symphony of beeps from various machines stopped the silence creeping in and forming negative thoughts and nightmares of worst possible outcomes in his mind. She couldn’t die, he couldn’t lose her. She was his safe haven in a world that had become darker than he’d ever anticipated. Nat and Sam walked into the room and sat with Bucky. Nat handed him a cup of coffee from the nearby coffee shop instead of getting the mud in a cup from the hospital vending machine. He accepted it gratefully with a swift nod and looked back over to Y/N. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping. Blissfully unaware of the situation she was in, you could be forgiven for thinking she was in a complete state of calm. Sam placed a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
“Buck, you’ve been here since the accident happened three days ago. You need to go back to the compound, get some sleep” he advised. Shrugging him off with a light scoff, he took Y/N’s hand in his, rubbing her fingers softly with his thumb.
“If she wakes up, I need to be here for her” he insisted.
“What good to her are you if you are too tired to function?” Sam spoke quietly.
“Sam’s right Bucky, you need to sleep. We’ll be here if she wakes up. Sam will call you straight away as well” Nat offered seeing the pain in Bucky’s eyes. The internal fight to stop tears flowing because she looked helpless and fragile.
“But I should be here” Bucky tried to push.
“I know she’s your best friend, but she’d understand that-”
“You don’t get it Sam, she’s not just my best friend, I love her Sam. I’m in love with her!” he kept his voice low, but it was strained as though he was arguing. Sam’s eyes panned. He was about to speak when Nat walked over to Bucky.
“Buck, listen to me, what would Y/N tell you to do?” she asked firmly.
“To… to go home and sleep,” he sounded defeated and shook his head, “fine, I’ll go” he conceded, “but you must call me instantly if she wakes up” he instructed. Nat agreed and sent him out to the waiting car to be taken home.
Nat sunk down on the chair in the corner of the hospital room. Sam was still processing Bucky’s words. How had he missed it?
“You know it was obvious right” Nat said laughing at Sam’s inability to realise Bucky’s feelings towards Y/N were deeper than he’d anticipated. “She’s in love with him too, but she thinks he doesn’t see her that way”
“She was with Steve though” Sam countered looking even more confused.
“No, he coerced her into a relationship where he was bullying and abusing her. The trouble is no one wanted to say or do anything to stop it except Bucky. Even I was at fault there. She needed us and we let her down. I mean don’t you remember the quiz night Tony held with us where we were in teams of two and had to answer questions about each other to see who really was a perfect match” she chuckled at the memory. Sam’s smile spread across his face as he recalled that night…
Tony sat back looking all smug as yet another duo failed to get more than 10 out 15 in the ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner?’ game. In all fairness he was teamed with Pepper, but the others were teamed with friends. Bruce and Thor did pretty well achieving a solid 10, Wanda and Vision got 11 and Nat scored 11 with Clint. Sam was teamed with Rhodey and scored a 7. Originally Y/N wasn’t going to play. Steve was off on yet another ‘solo’ mission (a jaunt to Peggy’s) but everyone convinced her to take part and she agreed to work with Bucky, her best friend. She leaned into him, putting her face on his shoulder as she laughed uncontrollably at Peter scoring 5 with T’Challa. It was almost as bad as the 2 Y/N scored with Steve last time they played. Tony rubbed his hands together all excited as he sat forward.
“Y/N do you and Tin Man actually think you’ll beat mine and Pepper’s score of 13?” he was so confident. Y/N and Bucky looked at each other with a smile.
“We’ll give it a shot Tony. Friday has our answers and is ready to reveal them with each question asked”
“Let’s make it interesting” Tony beamed. Bucky looked at him with confusion.
“What do you have in mind?” Bucky quizzed.
“If you score higher than me and Pepper you will win two thousand dollars. If we have higher than you, then you and Y/N will be responsible for dinner for everyone for a whole week” he offered.
“You’re on” Y/N grinned.
Question after question was fired, each one was a correct answer. Question 10 came and went, then 11 and 12 all correct. Nat was enjoying her role as quizmaster for the couple and witnessing the faces on others as the responses kept coming back with a ‘ding’ from Friday.
“Question 13 – if going on a date, what physical preparation is made to show they expect sex?” Nat’s words were met with ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahhhs’ knowing this was quite an intimate ask. Silence fell upon everyone as they looked on at Y/N and Bucky. They were deep in thought and glanced at each other. Bucky’s lips curled into a cocksure smile as Tony waved them off with a scoffing laugh thinking there was no way they’d equalise.
“When Bucky goes on a date and is hoping to have sex he puts on extra cologne, brightens his teeth and ensures he has brand new underwear that doesn’t look like it’s got that washed and owned for a while look” she revealed.
“Friday?” Nat called for clarification. Friday dinged again and showed Bucky’s written response that was almost word for word. Bucky now needed to respond with the right answer to get the 13th point.
“Y/N will wear black underwear” he answered simply, watching her blush. As Friday dinged yet again, Tony’s eyes widened in shock as some of the other Avengers were equally as surprised. This wasn’t necessarily something all best friends knew.
“Question 14 – what would you want your wedding song to be?” Nat questioned.
“Bucky would pick Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller” Y/N didn’t even waste time and her reaction was met with Bucky letting out a laugh as he pulled Y/N to him and placed a kiss on her forehead. Friday confirmed the answer and Bucky divulged Y/N’s being From This Moment by Shania Twain. Y/N’s grin was so bright knowing he’d got the answer. They got to the last question and were currently 14 for 14. Steve stormed in interrupting them and demanding Y/N go with him. He was shouting at her saying she was an embarrassment. Dragging her away from everyone, people heard Y/N begging Steve to stop hurting her wrist. Her bruises the next day were proof that he stopped hurting her wrist and hit her elsewhere leaving her with a black eye and bruised ribs. She didn’t spend time with the rest of the Avengers for the next few days. Bucky had caught a glimpse of her and had a confrontation with Steve which ended up in more bruises for Y/N. Bucky’s heart was heavy with guilt and pain. He loved her more than anything and this was killing him. What he didn’t realise is that every tear she shed, every prayer she made was to let her out of her hell with Steve so that she could find some way of spending more time with Bucky and telling him of her feelings. With each passing day, new strike and inky bruise, she feared the day would never come…
Bucky tried to sleep, he tossed and turned in his bed. He knew that he’d promised to rest but he couldn’t get his mind off Y/N. Lying on his back, he rested his forearm over his eyes. The thin white bedsheet clung to him like a second skin as it sat over his legs and waist. He was angry at Steve. Angry at himself and angry at the drunk driver who only came away with a few scratches and a fractured finger while Y/N was in a coma, had suffered a ruptured spleen and a broken leg. He hated seeing her in pain, any kind of pain. She’d been through enough at the hands of Steve. He remembered seeing the bright smile on her face when Steve broke up with her. He was furious that Steve did it in a way to humiliate Y/N, but she just grinned at Bucky. He was trying to hide his fury at Steve. Y/N’s smile melted his heart but what disintegrated his tension were the words she whispered when he hugged her. She simply stated ‘I’m finally free’. How could he not be happy for her when she was relieved to be free from the violent clutches of Steve. It made him think of how she spent that night. Everyone was rallying around her in absolute concern.
Y/N sat on the sofa in the community lounge just flicking through a magazine as Wanda and Nat came in and sat either side of her. She looked from side to side at the women who were like Cheshire cats with the way they were grinning at her.
“You should come out with us tonight” Wanda suggested.
“Why?” Y/N asked slowly.
“After Steve’s actions, you need to get out there, show him what he’s lost out on” Wanda was trying to ensure Y/N wasn’t going to crumble, worried that Steve may have had some emotional hold on her.
“Or just have a good old-fashioned night out with the girls” Nat chimed in trying to steer the conversation away from Steve. Y/N closed the magazine and put it on her lap as she sighed.
“Nat, Wand I love you both. I really do but I’m fine. All I want is a night in, just relaxing watching a movie or something in the knowledge that everything is my choice” she explained to them. Disappointment flashed on Wanda’s face while Nat accepted Y/N’s response and patted her hands supportively to let her know they were there if she needed them. As they left Y/N to it, Bucky entered the room and joined Y/N on the sofa, he put his arm around Y/N, and she put her head on his shoulder.
“So what’s the movie choice tonight sugar-plum?” he asked.
“You can pick it, or we can watch the game tonight. It’s the Ravens versus the Falcons and you know I’m a Ravens girl” she chuckled.
“Game it is, I’ll order the pizza” he informed her. It wasn’t long before Sam and Clint joined them and were cheering the Falcons. Bucky couldn’t help but taunt Sam as he had to pay Y/N fifty dollars when the Ravens won. The conversation among the four of them drifted to cartoons and Disney, with Clint declaring how sick he was of Frozen. Likewise, Sam was fed up with Toy Story as his youngest nephew seemed to love watching it over and over. They then started talking about their first Disney film. Bucky revealed it was Snow White and he took Rebecca to see it, he was fascinated by the animation while Rebecca was in love with the story of a hero saving the day. Sam divulged that his was the Fox and the Hound and that, as a kid, he was convinced that the Owl was voiced by his auntie. Clint expressed his love for Robin Hood and proceeded to sing the theme tune that Y/N and Sam joined in with, reminiscing over the classic. Y/N then sat back and told of her first experience watching a Disney cartoon. It was Sleeping Beauty. It remained a favourite of hers because she felt that Aurora and Prince Philip had been destined to be together. He saw her when she was a baby, then met her in the woods where they sang and danced together. It was a love at first sight kind of thing and then he risked his life to rescue her. Bucky intently listened observing every little gesture she made. He felt butterflies at seeing her so free, so happy and so involved in a group chat. The dark cloud that once hung over her had been lifted and this was the true Y/N shining in front of him. He knew in that moment he would have to tell her how he felt. He didn’t just love her as a friend, he had fallen helplessly in love with her. But as fate would have it, the day he was planning to tell her was the day he received the news of her car accident…
Nat and Sam had sat by Y/N’s bed, nothing had changed. The machines beeping were like harpies screeching as they fought to take the life of their victim. Sam hated sitting there and knowing nothing could be done. He checked his phone and looked over to Nat.
“The driver has been released on bail. He is claiming that he was drinking to numb the pain of betrayal and heartache and that Y/N was driving erratically as he hit her. Andy has sent me the details of the guy” Sam spat with disgust. Nat almost twitched at the news.
“When Bucky gets here, I have something to take care of that you might want in on” she informed him.
“Does it involve dealing with this asshole?” Sam raised his phone indicating the drunk driver.
“Time for you to learn the art of creative termination Sam. Sometimes it needs to be done” her icy tone was enough to scare most people. Coupled with the look of hate in her eyes, Sam knew there was no talking her out of it. She loved Y/N like a sister and seeing Y/N in the state she was in was killing Nat.
Bucky arrived at the hospital again, he looked refreshed but felt disheartened by the lack of news regarding Y/N’s progress. He watched Nat and Sam leave and pulled the chair right up to the bed. He sat down and clutched her hand in his and began to tell her the story of Sleeping Beauty in hope that she might wake up. The doctor had told him that talking to Y/N would help because studies showed coma patients could hear people talking to them. He felt his heart lurch as there was no real response. He knew what he had to try. He had thought about it non-stop on the way to the hospital. He got up and sat next to Y/N on the bed. Holding her hand in his, he took a deep breath as he gazed down at her. Even in her fragile state, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear this. I… I… I hope you can,” he stuttered. “The day you were brought in here I… I was planning to tell you something,” he took a deep breath as he paused. “You see, ever since I’ve been back from Wakanda, you’re the only person who really goes all out to make time for me. You have spent time getting to know me and have become my best friend. I can’t and don’t want to ever imagine a life without you in it,” tears pricked the corners of his eyes at the mere thought of her no longer being around. “I remember watching you talk about Sleeping Beauty; you were so carefree I just wanted to kiss you and tell you how much I love you. And that’s the thing Y/N, I’m in love with you” the lump in his throat could be heard as he could no longer stop rogue tears from rolling down his cheeks; he sniffled and tried to wipe his tears away before continuing to speak. “The way you bite your lip when nervous, the way you softly smile and tilt your head when you’re listening to me talk after a nightmare, the way you hug me and reassure me when I’m having a panic attack, the way you kneel down and talk to children putting yourself at their level to make them feel at ease, your never-ending compassion and the time you make for all of us. It’s all those little things and more that I love. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to protect you from Steve. If you wake up and if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives together showing you that you are my princess and how much I love you. Just please, please wake up. I need you Y/N” his tears flowed as he bared his soul to the unconscious woman.
He leant down and placed his lips on hers in a tender chaste kiss. As he sat up, he observed her. Nothing. He knew he was being irrational hoping it would make a difference but the romantic in him had to try. That’s when he felt it – a slight twitch of her fingers. It happened again and her eyelids began to move, immediately Bucky pressed the button to call for a nurse. Rushing in, the nurse saw what was happening and called for a doctor.
He paced the floor waiting outside her room. He tried not to get his hopes up. He’d read of several cases where a patient would seemingly wake up but end up having a fit before their heart would give out. He wasn’t one for praying but he prayed that this wasn’t the case. He began to overthink it all. What if she could hear him but not being able to respond would result in a said fit and heart failure? What if he’d just killed the woman he truly loved? His mind was ruminating over the same thoughts over and over until the doctor came out.
“Sergeant Barnes” he enquired to get his attention. Bucky rushed to him instantaneously. The doctor could see all the questions and fear in Bucky’s eyes that he was struggling to manifest into words. “Y/N is awake and is asking for you. Her voice is rather weak, be patient with her. Give her some time as she is trying to make sense of things. The nurse is making her comfortable. Is there anyone I need to call?” he asked as Bucky’s face was awash with happiness.
“I… erm Wilson, Sam Wilson or Natasha Romanoff” he fumbled with his words anxious to see Y/N. The doctor nodded at him and let him into Y/N’s room.
She was propped up against the headrest. She looked weak but as she saw Bucky, her sunshine smile lit up the room. He sat next to her on the bed facing her. Their gaze was locked, and she nodded at his unspoken question as to whether she was ok.
“You’re… you’re awake” his voice almost a whisper.
“Because of you. I heard you Buck, I felt the kiss and I love you too, so much. Whenever Steve would drag me away, I just wanted to be with you. Safe in your arms. You are my everything Bucky” she croaked. He clutched her hands and kissed her knuckles before leaning towards her and kissing her with restrained passion so that he wouldn’t hurt her given her current health status.
“I love you Sleeping Beauty” he beamed, the love in his eyes just radiating.
“I love you too Prince Charming” she responded in kind as Bucky promised her that he’d make sure they have their own happily ever after.
I am super into mythology right now, and out of all kinds of mythology, Norse is definitely my favorite!! This myth in particular describes how Thor has to dress up as his mom, Frigga, in order to retrieve his hammer from a giant. Loki decides to accompany him as a bridesmaid to watch the whole event unfold.
summary: reader thinks she has no chance of Steven liking her after hearing about his date, without realizing all of the things he seems to notice about her, until she gets the help from donna of all people.
pairing: steven grant x reader
tags: not a lot of steven and reader, more so mutual pining, there is a little bit of self-deprecating thoughts from reader, (in my eyes; a bad ending)
word count: 4k (most I’ve written yet!)
notes: this is loosely based on ‘Please Notice’ by Christian Leave, I say loosely because there’s only a few things related to it, and although there aren’t any mentions of the Steven/Marc dynamic, please let me know if I ever write DID wrong! the last thing I would want it to hurt anyone from my writing! Leave any suggestions or comments, but alas enjoy!
You never wanted to fall for Steven Grant, the dorky gift shop-ist.
You never wanted to fall for him and yet here you were, leaning the top part of your body on the cool granite counter the museum had recently installed, your eyes trailing after the man. He had arrived late, again, and he threw a quick smile and wave at you as he made his way back to the gift shop. And it made your heart race as you gave a flushed smile and a small wave of your hand. You were hopeless.
‘Bet he’s trying to steer clear of Donna’s wrath.’
Listen, you guys were friends, the closest friend you guys had actually. You had taken some sight-seeing trips, and had a few movie nights here and there, but what you hadn’t expected was for you to grow a massive, school-like crush on one of your best mates. It was a cliche and you hated it! You hated how long it had taken for you to fall for him, for you to realize how much you liked him, especially since you would now have to watch him pursue one of your work-friends Dylan.
summary: Steven Grant hated coffee, but he loved the way it tasted on you when he kissed you. Marc Spector loves coffee, longing to taste it on your mouth.
pairing: steven grant x reader
tags: fluffy, steven is literally so soft for reader, this whole thing is really just making out (with a bit of grinding and lowkey alludes to smut) reader is aware of Marc and the business with Khonshu!
word count: 2.3k (small thing while i get a master list out!)
notes: hello, I hope you all enjoy this! It’s a short little thing while I try to figure out and get a master list all sorted out! As always, please let me know if I have made any form of mistakes with writing DID, it is never my intentions to hurt or misinform someone with my writing! But alas, please enjoy!
Stevenhatedthe taste of coffee, loathed the smell of it even more. But when you come home from work, begging for a cup and for him to hold you, it all goes right out the window.
He doesn’t care that the smell wafting around his loft is nauseating, nor does he care about the fact that you had spilt a small drop of the caramel brown liquid onto one of the random pages he had scattered around the desk. No, all he cares about is the weight of you sitting down against him, the smell of your coconut and honeydew shampoo wafting in his nose, immediately relieving the knots in his stomach, caused by the smell of coffee, as you let out a deep sigh, finally being able to relax.
I have been having the worst time with trying to write lately. I asked for some requests and got a pretty good response. An anonymous ask suggested this:
I wanted to write this But I think you could do it justice if you’re into the theme but it’s basically based on the reader being a princess and her guard being her confidant, Like the bodyguard they’ve confessed love tho but it’s still forbidden. There’s a scene in a story I just can’t remember, they torture him in the front of everyone to see as a punishment for smthn? he makes no sound coz the reader is there so she leaves but sneaks out later to him still hurt and tied and then good ol h/c.
And this is what became of that ask.
WARNINGS:THIS IS AN AU; this is set in medieval-ish times, so outdated and F’ed up thoughts and actions towards women will occur; royalty au, forced engagement/wedding, abusive relationship, public whipping, fevers, painful wound cleansing, suicidal thoughts, aborted suicide attempt, magic PAIRING: Princess Reader x Guard Bucky Barnes WORD COUNT: 11,000ish WRITING IN THE DARK BINGO FILL: Royal AU BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO FILL:Fevers AUTHOR’S NOTE: Title taken from “ivy,” by Taylor Swift Specifically the line“Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand.”
Near silent footsteps grew closer to the tree just past the garden. A smile played at his lips as he followed the trail of dainty footprints that stopped at the base of the tree. He slowly looked from left to right, turning to lean against the trunk of the tree, crossing his arms over his massive chest and speaking low.
“I know you’re up there.”
He laughed when an acorn popped him on the head. He let his arms fall and tilted his head back, dark hair falling off his shoulders with the movement. There you were, looking up, refusing to look his way.
“Come on, now. He’ll be here any minute.” “I don’t care about him.” “I know you don’t, but he could be a good one.”
You glanced his way then, long enough to make eye contact and narrow your eyes at him before you looked away again.
“That’s what you said about the last two.” “Prince Samuel was a good man, even if he did get on my nerves.” “But you were wrong about Prince Anthony.”
He nodded.
“That guy was a prick.”
You giggled, looking down as he looked up. His lips lifted in a crooked smile as he raised a hand. You sighed, shimmying down a little until he could reach you, taking hold of your waist and lowering you from the tree.
“There we go.”
You stayed close to him once he set your feet on the ground, hands gently brushing the tree debris from your gown. He made no movements away from you and you looked up into kind, icy blue eyes, your chin nearly brushing his chest as you spoke just above a whisper.
“I don’t want to marry them, Bucky.” “I know, Princess.” “Why can’t I just marry you?”
Bucky ignored the twinge in his heart, forcing a sad smile onto his face as he let his fingers trail over your cheek.
“I’m just a lowly guard, your grace. You deserve only the finest of princes.”
You shook your head, eyes drawn to your family crest pinned at Bucky’s chest.
“I don’t know, being solely responsible for the safety of the Princess is worthy of some nobility, isn’t it?”
Bucky smiled for real this time as you met his eyes.
“No one has ever accused me of being noble, my lady.”
You smiled, giving a laugh under your breath before he offered you his arm. You sighed again, looping your arm through his, laying your other hand on his thick bicep as the two of you slowly began to walk back to the castle.
“I feel as if we’re on a death march.” “You can’t look at it that way, my lady. He could be the love of your life.”
You swallowed hard, not realizing as you pulled Bucky closer.
“Who is he again?” “Prince John. A man worthy of you, according to the legends surrounding him.” “What legends?” “He’s defended his kingdom more than once. His father died during one of his battles and John saved the kingdom before returning home.” “So is he the king or a prince?”
Bucky let go of your arm, stepping over a small ravine. There was a fallen tree stretched across the ravine, one you’d hurried over on your way into the woods and up your tree. Bucky held out a hand and you grasped it tightly, lifting the skirts of your gown as you walked over the tree. Once you were safely to the other side, Bucky offered you his arm again.
“Technically he’s king, but he hasn’t had a coronation yet. His kingdom’s laws say the prince must be married first.” “And that’s where I come in.”
You stopped suddenly, dragged forward the slightest bit when Bucky hadn’t realized you weren’t walking with him. He dropped your arm and started to apologize, but you shook your head. He stood before you and you laid your hands on his shoulders, Bucky hunching over enough for you to reach him.
“I don’t want to marry someone just because it would be a good, strategic move for the kingdom. I want to marry forlove.” “I know, my lady. But couldn’t you grow to love him?”
You stared into those icy eyes, biting back the words on the tip of your tongue.
How can I, when I love you so?
You blinked, shaking your head. Bucky smiled, rolling his shoulder to make your hand fall, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of your palm, tucking your hand through his arm once more.
“I’m sure the Queen is wondering where you’ve run off to.” “She should know by now.”
Bucky’s smile widened as he thought to the first time he’d caught you in the tree. Your parents had arranged for Prince Ikaris, a boy you’d grown up playing in the woods with, to come and spend the summer. Only once the days shortened did they tell you that he was there as your suitor, and you’d end the year betrothed.
You’d stayed in the tree until your father ordered the tree cut down to get you out of it, and only by Bucky carrying you back to the castle did you relent.
It seems that Ikaris was only the first in a line of suitors, none deeming you worthy enough to play along with your antics. You were sure Prince Anthony had figured you out, and the wink he’d given you as he kissed your hand during his goodbye only cemented your belief.
No, the only constant through the parade of princes was Bucky, the one who’d sworn to protect you with his life when you were barely a teenager, and he barely a man. He’d kept his word, staying by your side through every attack on the kingdom. While seldom, the attacks did still come, and instead of fighting on the front lines, Bucky stayed at your side.
He also stayed by your side through every cold and fever and illness, keeping you in his sights through every lesson, every ball, staying outside your bedroom while you slept. You weren’t sure when he slept, but every time you needed him, he was by your side.
“Here we are.”
You looked up at the castle before you, glancing up at Bucky. He laid his other hand on the one you had currently gripping his arm.
“It will be fine, Princess. John will be a good man. He’ll be the one.”
You swallowed, pushing a smile on your face and nodding.
Even though you both knew it was a lie.
You paced the sitting room, skirts swishing as you walked. The words you muttered didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t sit still and you couldn’t be quiet. You didn’t look up at the knock on the door, your mother huffing out a breath when the door opened.
“Thank goodness. Talk some sense into her before she sends us all to an early grave!”
You rolled your eyes as you continued your pacing, stopping only when you saw the shiny boots step into your path. You lifted your head, closing your eyes with a relieved sigh when you saw the one constant in your life.
“Bucky.”
You laid your hands on his arms and he led you to the bench where your mother had been sitting. He sat beside you and you shook your head, taking hold of his hands.
“I hate him.” “You don’t know him.” “And I don’t want to!”
You shook your head, body vibrating along with it.
“There’s something about him … I can’t. I won’t marry him.” “You have to give him a chance, Princess.” “I did!” “No, you haven’t.”
You squeezed Bucky’s hands and he shifted closer to you.
“Just talk to him. Get to know him.” “I don’t want to get to know him!” “I know, but you have to.”
You lifted your eyes to his, seeing the pain in his eyes.
“What?”
Bucky looked down at your hands and you shook your head, giving his hands a squeeze until he lifted his head again.
“Bucky, what?” “Your father will force this marriage to happen.”
Your eyes widened, hands falling from Bucky’s. You shook your head, but he nodded his.
“You don’t have a choice anymore, my lady. You will marry Prince John.” “No, he … Father wouldn’t do that.” “He would. He will. Uniting John’s kingdom with ours would be a brilliant strategic move.”
You slowly nodded.
“Whatever is best for the kingdom.”
You stood on shaky legs, walking away from Bucky. He stood, the sword at his side softly clanging as he walked towards you. You stopped and lifted a shaky hand to your lips, closing your eyes as Bucky came to a stop behind you, his warmth surrounding you.
“Give him a chance, my lady. Get to know him.” “I don’t love him.” “You’ll learn to love him.”
You turned quickly, grabbing Bucky’s elbows. You watched his nostrils flare as his hands went to your waist, steadying you. His hands didn’t move from you, the warmth of his fingers burning you like a brand. You stepped closer, watching his eyes flash as he stayed still, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as his fingers flexed on your hips. The two of you stared at each other until you leaned even closer, your near silent voice echoing in the small space between you.
“I’llneverlove him.”
Bucky had made you promise to give Prince John a try, so you did. Sitting beside him at meals, strolling through the grounds with him. Standing at the entrance to the smelly barn as he brushed his horse and regaled you with tales of battle.
You couldn’t stand the man.
Bucky kept his distance when you were with John, brushing off the prince’s insistence that you were more than safe with him and Bucky could take the time off. Bucky politely declined, giving you and John space while still following you.
Now, you were on yet another stroll through the castle grounds, arm through John’s at his insistence, Bucky following a dozen paces behind.
“Is he always like this?”
You glanced over your shoulder, a soft smile crossing your lips.
“He’s duty-bound to protect me.” “And he’s always around you? Even in your private chamber?” “Well, of course not. He stays outside the door.”
John clicked his tongue, much the same way he did with the horses. The sound was grating to your ears and he shook his head.
“That’ll be the first thing to go.”
You blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
John gave you a patronizing smile.
“When you’re my wife, you won’t need a bodyguard. I’ll protect you.” “I would think as the Queen, you’d want as much protection around me as you can get.” “Of course, your grace. But I have my own men I’ll put in that position.”
You blinked a few times.
“I’ve known B—“
You cleared your throat.
“James my whole life. I trust him and I know he will protect me, no matter the cost.” “Well, I don’t need him.” “Youmay not, butIdo.” “You’ll need what I say you’ll need.”
You stopped, and John gave a hard exhale when you tugged at his arm.
“Come on. I’m tired of dealing with your attitude.” “I hate to break it to you, but the attitude stays.”
John gave a laugh, turning to stand in front of you and glaring down at you.
“I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you. Now do as I say.”
He grabbed your arm tightly and harshly pulled you forward, causing you to stumble. A warm hand grasped yours, the other on your waist as you were righted a moment before you were standing behind the wall of Bucky.
“I swear to God, if you touch her again—“ “I didn’t do anything.” “I watched you. I heard you.”
John laughed.
“And what will you do, guard? You think you can undermine the king?” “You’re not the king yet.”
John lifted his chin, a wicked smile coming to his lips as he stared at Bucky, glancing to see you peeking around Bucky’s wide frame before he spoke again.
“We’ll see about that.”
You sat up in bed at the sudden commotion outside your chamber. You pushed back the blankets and grabbed your robe, pulling it around you as you flung open the door. Guards wearing Prince John’s family crest were surrounding Bucky, trying to put his hands in shackles.
“What’s happening? What is this?” “Princess, go back inside.”
You shook your head at Bucky, reaching for him, gasping when a fist flew out, catching Bucky on the chin. He went to his knees with a groan, hands quickly shackled behind his back.
“Unhand him. Let him go!” “Orders of the Prince. Go back inside, my lady.” “No, I demand you let him go!”
Before a burly guard could force you back into your chamber, a hand reached out, placed in the center of the guard’s chest. The guard gave a nod, and Bucky was carried away. You turned quickly to see one of Bucky’s closest friends at your side.
“Steve, what’s happening?”
Steve sighed, gently ushering you back into your chamber.
“John put out the order. Said Bucky threatened him, threatened you. He’s going to use him to teach a lesson.” “Bucky didn’t threaten him. And he would never hurt me—“ “I know. I know, your grace, but I couldn’t go against the Prince.”
You looked in the direction that they’d taken Bucky, your heart feeling as if it were in your throat.
“What will he do to him?”
Steve’s eyes were cast down when you looked back to him, and you covered your mouth with your hand. Your hand drifted to your throat, as you spoke the words that burned like acid in your mouth.
“Will he kill him?” “I don’t think so.”
You closed your eyes, Steve’s quiet words slicing through your heart.
“But there are things worse than death.”
You opened your eyes again, knowing that despite the late hour, sleep would not come for you tonight.
John smiled as he adjusted the armor on his arms.
“Where is she?”
He glanced to see Steve at the doorway, who bowed his head.
“She’s coming, your grace.” “Good. I want to be sure she watches closely.”
Steve nodded, eyes cast to the ground. His eyes flicked up when he heard your gown swishing as you walked, clenching his jaw before he turned his head.
“She’s here, your highness.” “Excellent.”
John turned to see you in the doorway. Your eyes seemed tired, as if you hadn’t gotten enough sleep. John smiled, knowing his plan had worked.
“My Queen. Let’s take a walk.”
You glanced away when he was near, biting back a groan when he grabbed your chin and held it tightly as he kissed your cheek. He grabbed your arm and placed it through his own, pulling you forward.
“There’s something you need to learn. I’ve spoken with Samuel and Thor and Ikaris. I even wrote to Anthony, but I never received a response.”
You bit your lip to hide the smile at that.
“They all said the same thing. That you weren’t worth the time.”
You schooled your face into a calm, cool facade. You weren’t going to let his words get to you.
“Honestly, Princess? I have to agree with them.”
You clenched your teeth together as he went on.
“You may not be worth it, but your kingdom is. Well, your father’s kingdom. Let’s not pretend it would ever be yours.”
You straightened your spine, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
“But I can’t get the kingdom without you, so I guess we both just have to grin and bear it. But here’s the thing, sweetheart.” “Don’t call me that.”
John maneuvered your hand to where he was grasping it, squeezing so tightly you felt your bones grind together. You yelped at the sudden burn of pain and John sneered at you.
“Remember your place, Princess. I will be your husband and your king very soon.”
You blinked back tears as the two of you came to a sudden stop.
“Consider this the first of many lessons I’ll have to teach you. And you will learn, Princess. One way or another.”
John snapped his fingers and two of his men came to stand on either side of you. You looked from one to the other, noticing the crowd that had gathered. You narrowed your eyes when you realized you were standing on some sort of scaffolding, a stage of sorts.
John stepped near the edge of the stage.
“Citizens! Your future king has called you here for one simple reason.”
You tuned him out, glancing around the stage, looking through the crowd for a familiar face. You didn’t see one, save for Steve near the stairs, head bowed, shoulders tense. You swallowed as you studied the crowd, eyes falling onto a woman paces behind the rest of the people. She locked eyes with you and a shiver rolled up your spine. She lifted the hood of the cloak she wore, setting it on her fiery hair before turning and walking away. You watched her until you couldn’t see her anymore, blinking as if you’d been in a trance. Your eyes fluttered as the crowd began buzzing like a hive of bees, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched Bucky with his hands and feet shackled being led up the stairs. You started to step forward, stepping back when one of the men beside you blocked your path.
“You’re to watch this, Princess.”
Your heart throbbed in your chest as Bucky was led to the middle of the stage, the shirt he was wearing torn away. You met his eyes, saw the emotions swirling in the icy blue before he was forced to look away, his body wrenched to face the crowd.
“No.”
The word was barely audible, your eyes widening when John was handed a whip. You shook your head, reaching out, being stopped quickly by the thickly muscled arms of the men on either side of you. You looked to see Steve with his head still bowed, eyes squeezed shut, lips pulled tight in a wince. You took in a breath as John raised the whip over his head, hand flying to cover your mouth as John brought the whip down, the crack seeming to echo as Bucky’s body jolted forward.
Bucky tried to hold back, but soon every crack of the whip was followed by a scream of agony. You wanted to collapse at the first sound he tried so hard to hold back, but you stood firm. Bucky would want you to be strong. John looked back at you, wild-eyed with a wide smile on his face, and you glared at him, managing to stay still when the next crack of his whip was viciously hard.
When Bucky’s screams faded, you peeked around the man beside you, your heart falling to your toes when you saw how limp Bucky’s body was. The final lash from John’s whip had no reaction from Bucky, and John threw the whip to the ground as he turned and made his way to you. He stopped in front of you, smiling sadistically.
“Let this be a lesson to you, Princess. King or not, I own you.”
He glanced back over his shoulder.
“And this is just the beginning.”
You closed your eyes as John bent to kiss your cheek before walking away, whistling a tune as he did. The crowd began to disperse with quiet murmurs being exchanged, and you rushed forward, hitting your knees beside Bucky’s prone form.
“Bucky? Oh god. Buck, can you hear me?” “He’s unconscious.”
You looked up to Steve, seeing the pain on his face as he studied the lashes on Bucky’s back, blood oozing from the wounds. You shook your head, one shaky hand moving to the back of Bucky’s head.
“What do we do?” “I can help.”
You looked up at the new voice, quiet and thickly accented. The woman you’d noticed earlier that stayed at the edge of the crowd was standing over Bucky. You moved a hand protectively over him and she smirked.
“Don’t worry, Princess. I mean no harm. He’ll need these wounds cleaned to ward off infection.”
You nodded, looking down at the crisscrossing wounds on Bucky’s back. Shaky fingers gently touched his broken skin and you shook your head.
“I don’t … I can’t leave.” “I know, your grace. I have a few men who can help us.”
You met Steve’s eyes and nodded. He turned and nodded, and three men stepped out of the shadows. You recognized two of them, smiling sadly.
“Clint. Timothy.” “Your highness.”
The men bowed before offering hands to help you to your feet. You stepped back with the woman beside you, your heart clenching with every moan and noise Bucky made. The men managed to get Bucky on a horse, planning on taking him to Clint’s farm. The woman turned to you, and you would have sworn you saw her eyes turn red.
“I’ll do what I can, Princess, but he’s going to need you.” “Me?”
She nodded, a smile coming to her lips.
“I’ll send for you.” “How?” “You’ll know.”
She turned away and you blinked a few times before stepping forward.
“Steve!”
He looked back at you, crossing the space they’d already put between you. You took his hands.
“Be careful. You know there’s wolves in the woods.”
Steve nodded.
“We’ll keep an eye out.”
You nodded, squeezing his hands before he jogged to meet Clint, who was leading the horse away.
You stayed in your chamber with the door locked, refusing any visitors and the requests your parents and John made for you to come out. The only person you would allow into the room was the lady-in-waiting that had been by your side since you were a child, Lady Jean Grey.
You were sitting on the cushioned bench by the window, hands clasped in Jean’s as she knelt before you. You couldn’t speak, tears silently rolling down your cheeks as Jean spoke softly.
“He’s going to be okay, your highness. Steve will be sure to take good care of him.”
You hung your head and gave a soft sob. Jean always seemed to know just what you were thinking, even when you couldn’t put it into words. She knew how you felt about Bucky, how you felt about John, the hopelessness you could feel yourself slipping into. Your father had been delighted with John’s public show of power, and he was more determined than ever to make the marriage happen. You didn’t have a say in the matter, and seeing John’s self-satisfied smirk made your stomach turn.
Your head lifted, eyes locking with Jean’s before the two of you turned towards the window. You helped her to her feet, your gowns swishing as the both of you made your way to the window. The moon was high in the cloudless sky, and a chill rolled down your spine as a wolf’s howl broke the stillness of the night.
You turned to Jean, grabbing her hands.
“That’s it.” “Your grace, that was a wolf.” “No,shedid that. We haven’t heard wolves since the snow melted.”
Jean was incredibly smart and intuitive, and you saw goosebumps rise on her arms when the wolf howled again. You gave her hands a squeeze.
“I have to go, Jean. She said he was going to need me, and this is her sign.” “Okay. Okay, go.”
She sighed, looking to the door over your shoulder.
“I’ll stay here, pretend I’m you if I have to. I’ll ward off everything I can, but you must hurry back.”
You nodded, pulling her hands forward until you could kiss her cheek. She helped you into a gown more suitable for someone who wasn’t a princess, pinning your hair up and giving you her cloak. You knew there would be guards outside your chamber door, so Jean helped you climb over the balcony, using the blankets from your bed as a makeshift ladder.
You twisted your ankle when you dropped to the ground, wincing as you ran through the pain. You went in the direction you remembered Steve and Clint leading the horse that had carried Bucky away, the thought coming to you that you had no idea where you were going.
You covered your mouth with a hand when the wolf’s howl filled the air again, the sound sharp in your ears. You looked to your right, jolting when the howl sounded again, but turning that direction. You pulled Jean’s cloak tighter around you, eyes widening when you saw a curl of smoke rose towards the moon. Clouds were quickly hiding the moon, so you hurried towards the smoke, stopping when you saw a stone cottage. You made your way to the door, knocking on it and stepping back.
“Your highness. Welcome.”
You followed the woman into the cottage, removing the hood from your head. You untied the strings at your neck and she took the cloak from you, hanging it beside what you assumed was her own cloak.
“Excuse me.”
She turned to you, curls of her red hair framing her face.
“What is your name?”
She smiled.
“Wanda. Follow me.”
You did, stopping suddenly when Wanda walked through a doorway.
“Oh god.”
You hurried forward, hand brushing over Bucky’s sweat-soaked face. He was laying on his side and he moaned at your touch, his huge body shivering almost violently. You lifted your eyes to Wanda, who sighed.
“He’s got a fever from the infection. I’m doing everything I can.” “Oh, Bucky.”
You grabbed a cloth near his makeshift bed, dipping it in a bucket of water. You gently pressed the cloth to his forehead, a moan leaving his lips. The shivering of his body slowed just a bit, and you moved the cloth to gently clean his face.
“I’m here, Bucky. I’m so sorry.”
He hummed as you dipped the cloth back into the water, wringing it out and pressing it against his neck.
“How long has he had the fever?” “The wounds were showing the beginning signs of infection when we got him here.”
You lifted your head at that, and Wanda smiled as she moved to stand in front of a big bowl.
“They’re in the barn. Close enough that they can come if I call. The big one said it was unseemly for the men to be in a lady’s home.”
You smiled as you laid the cloth over Bucky’s heart.
“Steve.”
Wanda nodded, turning to grab a jar from a shelf on the wall.
“What can I do?”
Wanda took a few jars into her arms, setting them beside the bowl.
“You’re doing it. He’s stopped moaning. Perhaps he recognizes your touch.” “Is he delirious?”
Wanda nodded.
“He’s woken up a few times. That’s usually when I have to call the big one in to calm him down.”
You nodded, sucking in a breath when one of Bucky’s shaky hands touched your thigh. You moved the cloth back to his face, patting gently.
“It’s me, Bucky. I’m here with you.”
Your only response was a moan, and Wanda spoke from behind you.
“Can you fill this with water from the bucket?”
You took a small glass vial from her, dipping it into the bucket and handing it to her before dipping the cloth back into the bucket and wringing it out again.
“Wanda?” “Mm-hmm?” “The wolf howling. That was you, wasn’t it?”
She didn’t answer, and you lifted your head to see her dark eyes on you. She nodded, and you swallowed as you moved back to Bucky, placing the cloth against his neck.
“What are you?”
Your voice was quiet, your eyes on Bucky, watching his eyes move under his eyelids as his sleep was restless. You finally glanced over your shoulder, Wanda’s eyes still on you. You swallowed again and Wanda’s lips curled in the slightest semblance of a smile.
“Will you help me put this salve on his wounds?”
You nodded, watching Wanda stir whatever she had in the big bowl.
“We can get the big one in to help hold him down.” “Does it hurt him?” “It does, but it helps as well. I’ve already had to convince the big one that I’m helping him and not purposefully hurting.”
You let your fingers graze through Bucky’s hair, your breath catching in your throat at the way his head moved, as if he were seeking out your touch. You nodded, and Wanda walked to the window, unlatching it and pushing it open. She whistled a short tune, then closed the window. A few seconds later, you watched Steve exit the barn, wiping his feet before he walked into the room, eyes widening at the sight of you.
“Your Highness.”
You smiled at him and the short bow he gave, turning your attention back to Bucky. Wanda’s accented voice broke through the quiet.
“It is time to clean his wounds again.”
Steve blew out a breath, lifting a hand to rub at his bearded chin. You wiped the cloth over Bucky’s mouth, your fingers trailing through his hair. Steve stepped towards you, voice gentle.
“Princess, you don’t have to watch this. Clint will keep you company in the stables.”
You shook your head.
“I need to be here.”
Steve nodded, exchanging a look with Wanda. Steve murmured to Bucky as he gently began pushing him onto his stomach. Bucky groaned, painful moans escaping his lips as he went with Steve’s urges. You tried to shush him as best you could, touching his face and whispering to him. A horrified gasp escaped your lips when you saw the wounds on his back, how angry red they were, how some were seeping. Wanda and Steve exchanged another glance above where you had knelt at Bucky’s head.
“Your highness?”
You looked up to Wanda, who had a soft smile on her face.
“You stay there, try to keep him still. The big one and I can apply the salve.” “My name is Steve.” “I know your name, vysokiy.”
You and Steve exchanged a look, a smile crossing your face at the flush in his cheeks. The smile slid from your face as you met Wanda’s eyes, saw the compassion and sorrow there.
“He will fight. He may be weakened, but he is still strong. He won’t know what he’s doing and if he hurts you, he doesn’t mean it.”
You nodded, closing your eyes for just a moment.
“Brace yourself.”
You did, your heart shattering in your chest when Wanda laid a stripe of thick green paste over the lashes on Bucky’s back. Bucky gasped, then screamed, legs flying up as the salve burned into his skin. Tears came to your eyes when you listened to him scream, as Wanda gently layered the salve onto the lashes in his skin and you finally heard Steve calling your name, looking up.
“Talk to him! Calm him down.”
You shook your head, unsure of what to do, and Steve ground his teeth as he pressed Bucky’s shoulders down.
“Let him hear your voice.”
You looked back at Bucky, the tears sliding down his cheeks breaking your heart. He screamed again as Wanda spread more salve on his back and you knelt in front of him.
“Bucky! Bucky, calm down. Just breathe.”
Bucky’s eyes flew open, wild and glassy from the fever. You shushed him, taking his face in your hands.
“You’re okay. I’m here.”
He whispered your name and you nodded, smiling through the tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Hi, Buck.”
He groaned and you moved closer, resting your forehead on his, feeling the blaze of his skin against yours.
“It’s okay, Bucky. I’m here.”
He murmured your name again, one shaky hand reaching for you. You took his hand, holding it in yours, kissing his fingers before bringing it to your chest. He gave quiet groans as Wanda and Steve spread the salve over his back, giving your hand intermittent squeezes. You whispered to him, words that you weren’t even sure made sense.
When Wanda quietly announced she was done, Bucky’s body relaxed. You smiled, blinking open your eyes in time to see Bucky lean back just enough to brush his nose against yours. Your eyes widened as he moved, wincing the slightest bit. You took the hand Steve offered you and stood to your feet, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the chair he moved for you to the head of Bucky’s makeshift bed. You sat down and Steve moved the chair closer. He maneuvered Bucky just a bit, until Bucky’s head was on your lap. You stared at Bucky for a moment, shaking your head as you looked up to Steve, looking back down when Bucky gave a content sigh, quickly drifting back to sleep. You stared at his sleeping form, the furrow between his eyebrows that you gently smoothed away. Every touch of your hand seemed to relax him more, and you smiled as you ran your fingers through his hair, gently untangling the dark strands.
In the kitchen, Wanda smiled as she washed out the bowl she had used. Steve stood back, eyes in the room where Bucky slept on the Princess’ lap. He lifted a hand to his forehead, gently rubbing.
“Something on your mind, vysokiy?”
Steve swallowed.
“This … them … it can’t be. You mustknow that.” “I know that the heart is not something to be played around with.” “They can’t be together. This will just hurt them more in the end.” “Will it? You see him? He’s sleeping more restfully than he has since he regained consciousness. The infection is already calming.”
Steve shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. She has to go back to the castle and he has to go back to being a guard. Not her guard, because her new husband won’t allow it.” “Her new husband is not her husband yet. There has been no wedding.” “One is coming. The whole kingdom knows it.”
Wanda turned to face him fully.
“And you think she will go through with it?”
Steve stared at her, head tilting slightly.
“What are you talking about?”
Wanda’s dark eyes danced from you and Bucky back to Steve.
“Surely you can feel the love between them as I do.”
Steve looked away, looking back when Wanda stepped closer to him.
“You think she’ll go through with marrying the monster who broke her heart by nearly killing the one who holds her heart?” “She doesn’t have a choice.” “There’s always a choice, vysokiy.”
Steve grabbed her wrist, his touch gentling when her fingers gently caressed his wrist.
“What do you know?” “Nothing as of yet. Is only a possibility.” “What is?”
Wanda looked to you, saw you dip your head to press your lips to the crown of Bucky’s head. She nodded.
“I do believe your Princess would rather die than be forced away from him.”
Steve dropped her hand, eyes flashing back to you and Bucky, who slept peacefully in your lap.
You stayed in the chair with Bucky’s head in your lap until the sun came up. He stirred, groaning softly before blinking his eyes open. His eyebrows drew together, confusion marring his features until he looked up and saw you smiling down at him.
“My lady?” “Good morning, Bucky. How are you feeling?”
Bucky blinked, as if he were unsure you were really there. You gently slipped your fingers through his hair again and his eyes drifted closed. You continued, his voice deep and sleepy.
“How are you here?” “I snuck out. Lady Jean is pretending to be me.”
Bucky moaned softly, realizing where his head had been laying. His cheeks flushed as he pushed himself up with a groan, and you quickly moved to help him sit up.
“Take it easy. Just breathe.”
He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. You smiled, moving your hand from his bare shoulder to his neck. He groaned again, hanging his head.
“Just breathe, Bucky.” “When did you get here?”
You swallowed, gently rubbing the ball of his shoulder.
“Last night. I had to help Wanda and Steve dress your wounds. Which, it should be time to change the bandages. We had to apply them while you slept.”
Bucky watched as you lifted a strip of cloth from just under his shoulder blade.
“It might be easier if you lay back down.”
Bucky shook his head.
“No, I … I’d like to sit up.”
You smiled.
“Okay.”
You stepped away from him, going behind him.
“I’m sorry, this may hurt.” “I’ll be okay.”
You slowly lifted the bandages from his skin, some of the salve causing the bandages to stick. You pulled as gently as you could, wincing each time you heard Bucky hiss out a breath. When the final bandage was removed, you went to the bucket of water Clint had brought in before the sun rose. You dipped a fresh cloth into the water, bringing it back to gently clean Bucky’s back. He hissed at first, then moaned softly.
“I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. Just a bit tender.”
You nodded, tears blurring your eyes as you did your best to clean the wounds. Once the wounds were clean, you continued to pat the cloth over Bucky’s back, urged on by the pleased sighs leaving his lips. Soon, however, Bucky realized there was no rhyme or rhythm to your touches. The cloth was barely skimming over his skin, the gentlest of brushes.
“My lady?”
You didn’t answer, dropping your hand to your side, going back to the bucket and dipping the cloth back into it, wringing it almost dry.
“Princess?”
You laid your hands on the small table where the bucket sat. You hung your head, only turning when you heard Bucky move.
“Don’t try to get up. You’re weak.” “Why are you crying?”
You sniffled, shaking your head. Bucky held out his hand and you took it in both of yours, stepping forward at his gentle pull.
“Are those tears for me, sweet Princess?”
You nodded, closing your eyes as you moved one hand to brush his hair back from his face, the other grasping tightly to his hand.
“I’m so sorry.” “What could you possibly be sorry for?”
You lifted your head when Bucky gently pushed at your chin, tears shining in your eyes when his icy blues met yours. He shook his head and you gave a shaky sigh.
“It’s because of me. John did this to you because of—“ “Don’t…”
Bucky shook his head, clenching his jaw before he looked back to you.
“He did this. Not you.” “But he did it because of me. He wanted to teach me a lesson and he knew hurting you would be the best way to hurt me.”
You lowered your head again and Bucky shifted to push your chin up again.
“Don’t hide from me, Princess. Let me look at you.”
You swallowed, stepping closer to him.
“I hate him.” “I know.” “They’re going to make me marry him and I—“ “Shh.”
You were careful to keep your arms by your side when Bucky pulled you into his arms. You didn’t want to touch his back and cause him any sort of pain, but you couldn’t help resting your head against his shoulder. You lifted a hand to cup his face, closing your eyes when you felt his rough beard against your scalp.
“I know he won’t allow me to guard you anymore.” “I know.” “If I could change it, Princess …”
You lifted your head, nose brushing against Bucky’s chin.
“I wish it could be you.”
Bucky’s hands tightened around you and you gave a shaky sigh.
“My lady—“ “Don’t say that he’ll be a good king or that I’ll grow to love him. I won’t. I won’t ever love anyone, Bucky. No one but—“ “Please don’t.”
You couldn’t stop the sob, your hand tightening just a bit on his face, resting your palm against his cheek. Bucky closed his eyes, his voice pitched low.
“You have to go back.” “I don’t want to.” “I know.” “I get this terrible feeling that I’ll never see you again.”
You shook your head, moving back until you could look him in the eyes.
“I can’t live the rest of my life without you.” “You can, Princess. You’re strong.” “I’m not.”
Bucky reached out, taking your face in his hands, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.
“You deserve more than a lowly castle guard.” “I deserve someone who loves me, and that monster never will. I can’t live like that, Bucky. I can’t.”
He swallowed at the sureness of your words, rubbing his thumbs under your eyes again, causing them to close. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead, the place where your crown usually sat. You lifted your hands to hold onto his thick forearms as he spoke again.
“You have to go back.”
You shook your head, a smile coming to his lips at your stubbornness.
“You can’t turn your back on the kingdom.” “The kingdom doesn’t care about me. The only thing I’m good for is marrying someone who can rule because I never can.”
You opened your eyes, looking into his again.
“Do you know what he said to me while we were walking one day? He said maybe I won’t be as useless as my mother and actually give him a worthy heir.”
You shook your head.
“How can you say I should go back to that?”
Bucky looked down at your still-joined hands.
“It’s your duty as Princess—“ “I don’t care about duty!”
You let go of his hands and stood up, shaking your head as you looked at him.
“The only thing in this world I care about is you. It broke my heart when John tortured you the way that he did. Look at me, Bucky. I snuck out of the castle to get to you. I knew what a risk it was and I couldn’t help myself.”
You’d been pacing the small area, stopping and turning to him.
“He doesn’t love me. He never will, and I know that. Deep in my bones, I can feel it. But you …”
Bucky hung his head, putting his face in his hands. You could feel the cracks in your heart, the break beginning. The cracks only deepened when he lifted his head, pain-filled eyes meeting yours.
“I can’t give you anything.” “You think I care about jewels or gold?” “What about food? I have nothing, Princess. I am nothing.”
You shook your head, going to him and taking his hands as you knelt before him.
“You’reeverything, Bucky. If I never step foot in another castle, that would be fine with me. As long as I had you.”
Bucky stared down at your hands, shaking his head.
“You have to go back.”
You felt the cracks in your heart deepening even more.
“You won’t even try, will you?” “There’s nothing to try. My duty is to guard the castle and your duty is—“ “To marry a monster whose cruelty towards me brings him such joy.”
You shook your head, giving a sharp laugh at the tears welling up in your eyes. You stared into Bucky’s eyes, the pain you felt reflected in the stormy grey of his orbs. You slowly nodded, turning away from him.
“Princess…”
You didn’t turn back at his voice, as much as it hurt. Bucky noticed then the weight on your shoulders, the way every breath seemed heavy from your chest. He called you by your name and you turned, lifting pain-filled eyes to his. He went still, the sad smile you put on your face breaking his heart, along with the words you said.
“I love you, James. And I’ll never love anyone but you.”
The tears sparkling in your eyes made him want to run to you, but you turned away before he could move. He hung his head as he listened to your footsteps walk away, curling back up on the bed once the closing of the door signaled your departure.
“Your Highness? Prince John would like you to meet him in the dining hall. He wants to discuss the food for the wedding feast.”
You continued to stare out the window, taking a breath before you acknowledged Lady Jean.
“Tell the future king that whatever he desires is fine with me.” “He wants to get your input on some things, my lady.”
You pulled your dull, tired eyes from the window.
“I highly doubt that. But you know what I like, Lady Jean. Speak in my stead.” “It’s not my wedding, your grace.” “It’s not mine, either.”
Jean sighed, closing the door behind her as she made her way to you.
“You must leave this room, dear. Let’s take a stroll around the gardens.”
You turned your head towards her again.
“He cut down my tree. Did you know that?”
Jean knelt beside you, reaching a hand up to gently stroke your hair.
“He reinstated James. Did you knowthat?”
You shook your head.
“He’s a castle guard now, but he’s here. I could bring him to you.” “John would never allow that.” “Then we could take that walk and be sure to find him.”
You smiled sadly.
“I told him I love him. That I’d never love anyone but him.”
Jean’s hand fell from your hair. You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again.
“I think I’d just like to stay here.” “Princess…” “Thank you, Jean. That will be all.”
Jean sighed, standing to her feet, laying her hand against your head before turning and leaving. You took in a breath, folding your arms and placing them on the windowsill, putting your head on your arms and crying.
When the moon was high in the sky and the castle was at rest, you crept as quietly as you could from your room. The guard outside your door, one wearing Prince John’s family crest, was asleep. He had his chin against his chest, quiet snores leaving his lips. You shook your head and silently crept past him, pulling your cloak tighter around you. You went for the winding staircase, making your way to the castle’s roof. Once there, you untied your cloak, letting it fall to the stones you slowly walked across. You stopped at the edge, leaning over the railing there, your heart fluttering at the distance to the ground.
You took in a breath and let it out slowly, taking hold of the railing and lifting yourself up. You slowly stood on top of the edge of the stone balcony, looking straight ahead instead of down.
If you looked down, you’d never do what you set out to do.
You closed your eyes, trying your best to clear your mind. You didn’t want to think of Jean or your parents or John and especially not Bucky. You lifted your head, the night wind rolling over you like a cold caress, cutting through the thin gown you wore to bed.
“Princess?”
You opened your eyes, the breath catching in your throat.
No.
“My lady, please. I need you to step down from there.”
Not him. Anyone but him.
“Princess, I can’t make it down fast enough to catch you. So that means I … I’ll have to follow you.” “You’re not my guard anymore.” “Maybe not where the future king is concerned, but I’ll always protect you.”
You turned your head then, tears welling up in your eyes when you saw him.
“Is that what you did when you sent me away? You were protecting me? By pushing me towards that monster?” “Take my hand and we can talk.”
Bucky stepped forward, hand outstretched to you. You shook your head, the stone ledge digging into your bare feet.
“I can’t live like this. I can’t marry him. His cruelty is constant and I can’t even begin to imagine what he’ll do when I’m his wife. He already treats me like he owns me and I can’t … I won’t live like that.”
You squared your shoulders, looking back out over the kingdom.
“If you do this, then you must know that I’m coming after you.”
You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Bucky staring up at you on the ledge.
“I can’t live in a world where you’re not.”
Your shoulders dropped at that. As a quiet sob broke free from your chest, Bucky stepped even closer, hand outstretched towards you. You put your hand in his and he stepped even closer as you bent down, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slid one arm around you, the other under your knees. He held you close as you put your face in his neck, and he knelt to the ground, keeping you in his arms. You stayed holding onto him, the warmth of his body bleeding through his armor and into you.
You couldn’t say anything. Tears slipped from your eyes and onto him, but Bucky didn’t speak either. He just knelt there on the castle roof, holding you, for what seemed like hours.
You stood on the balcony outside your chamber, staring out over the hazy day. Dark clouds were rolling over the hills in the distance, an ominous appearance to what should have been the happiest day of your life. You hadn’t slept well, your dreams invaded with hopeless, dark images and wolf howls. You exhaled slowly, closing your eyes, blinking them open again.
You tilted your head, the hooded figure at the edge of the trees sending a chill up your spine. You instinctively knew that was Wanda, and you felt a pull towards her. You watched her come to a stop at the tree line, hands coming out from under her cloak, twisting and turning and you would swear they were glowing red. You would also swear that she was looking right at you, and you turned, hurrying from your chamber. You were halfway down the steps before you realized how empty the castle was, considering your wedding ceremony and feast were tonight. You lifted your skirts and ran through the open doors, hurrying down past the stables. The closer you got to the tree line, the further away it seemed Wanda slipped. You jumped at a crack of thunder, glancing over your shoulder to see Bucky stop in his tracks on a balcony of the castle. You stopped as he did, watching him shake his head and call for you.
You’re not sure what came over you. You felt as though your body wasn’t your own as you turned and ran into the forest. You called for Wanda, but got no response. You kept running, sucking in a breath when you heard the commotion behind you, of the guards mounting their horses to come after you.
“Wanda! I know that was you. Where are you?”
You went still when you heard a wolf howl, glancing over your shoulder when you heard snarls and yips close by. You watched a pack of wolves walk out of the trees and slowly surround you. You swallowed, closing your eyes and wishing you could have had one more moment with Bucky.
You gasped as a wolf snapped its jaws at you, and you backed into a thorn bush, cutting your arm. You yelped when another wolf did the same thing, gasping when a wolf bit your gown, tugging until it ripped. On your other side, another wolf did the same thing. You didn’t want to run because you knew you couldn’t outrun the wolves. But you noticed strangely that the wolves weren’t trying to hurt you. They seemed more preoccupied with tearing your gown.
You turned and cut your other arm on the thorn bush, your blood dripping onto the scraps of your gown on the ground. One of the wolves threw its head back and gave a loud howl, your eyes widening when a larger wolf stepped out of the trees. You noticed something in this wolf’s mouth, a vial that seemed familiar to you, but you didn’t know why. The wolf stopped directly in front of you, tilting his head to the side before dropping the vial at your feet. A strange crimson smoke wafted from your feet up to your nose, and you inhaled deeply.
You stared into the wolf’s eyes, your mouth opening as your breathing sped up. Pain shot through your body, and you threw your head back and screamed. You fell to your knees and screamed again, the pain seeming to completely encompass you. The wolves began snapping at you and howling, your screams interspersed with their howls. You gave a gasping, wet gurgle, feeling like your heart was trying to burst out of your chest. A quiet groan was the last sound you could make before you collapsed, the pain too much for you to handle.
You were hanging on the edge of consciousness, unsure of what was happening. You could swear you felt the wolves’ nudging you with their noses, causing you to roll over onto your belly. You were sure you felt claws scratch one leg, then the other, until a quiet yip sounded. You felt the wolves nudge you again, and you felt yourself be lifted, placed onto something soft and warm. You felt wind against your skin, and the cool drops of rain against your face was the last thing you felt before you lost consciousness.
As storms raged through the kingdom, a blanket of grief settled over the castle. Your mother refused to leave her chamber, demanding the curtains closed and shrouding herself in darkness. Your father seemed to be in a fog. John saw no reason to stay, leaving his condolences before heading back to his kingdom.
Lady Jean Grey was inconsolable, sitting in your chamber and weeping. The castle was quiet and dark, and from his place on a balcony, Bucky decided he’d prefer to be publicly whipped every day of his life than to have to live with this godforsaken pain.
He stood unmoving in the rain, soaked to the skin, completely numb. He kept his eyes trained towards the woods, hoping against all odds that you’d step through the tree line. Steve stayed beside him, sometimes trying to talk with him, most of the time just standing by.
Every time Bucky closed his eyes, he saw you. The sweet smiles you only gave to him, the way your eyes lit up when he was near. He could feel your gentle touch, reminders of the comfort only you could bring when he was at Wanda’s cottage. He could hear your laughter that only happened when he did something that tickled you, the soft way you said his name, the only one besides Steve who could call him Bucky.
It was a pain he never wanted, a grief so heavy and sharp he wasn’t sure he’d survive.
He’d fallen to his knees when he and the rest of the guards arrived at the clearing in the woods, in the midst of the remnants of what was to be your wedding gown strewn about, soaked with your blood. The howls of the wolves as they’d retreated had him reaching for his sword, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t take hold. He’d managed to pick up a scrap of lace that was tattered at one end, soaked with rain or wolf saliva, he didn’t know. It was now tucked close to the place where his heart once beat.
They hadn’t found your body before the rains fell, but from the noises he’d heard, your screams and the howls and snarls of the wolves, everyone knew your fate.
Now, Bucky just stood. If the castle fell under attack, he’d rush to the front line. He wouldn’t put up much of a fight, and perhaps one day they’d say he died a noble death. Steve would know the truth, but he wouldn’t speak of it. Until then, Bucky would focus on trying to breathe through the weight of his grief.
As the sun started its descent, Bucky gazed over the tree line. A hooded figure stood in the distance, face shrouded by a cloak. Bucky watched hands appear from under the cloak, turning and fingers moving, pops of red glowing around the digits. He turned to the guard at the other end of the balcony, found him with his eyes closed, chin resting against his chest. Bucky swallowed, looking back out to see the figure turn away, cloak falling to reveal a head of fiery red hair, hand flicking above her head as she walked away.
“Wanda.”
Bucky turned and left his post, hurrying into the castle and down the steps, not realizing how empty the castle was. He burst through the doors and ran for the trees, bursting into the forest before he heard—and ignored— Steve calling his name.
Bucky ran through the forest, armor clanging with every move he made. He stopped, a strange feeling coming over him as he quickly removed his armor, leaving it in a pile with his sword carefully on top before he continued running. He burst into a clearing, looking from left to right, going still when he heard the howl of a wolf much too nearby. He closed his eyes when he realized where he was, the same clearing where he’d found all that was left of you. He opened his eyes again to find wolves surrounding him, on every side and at every turn. He reached for his sword, hands falling to his sides when he realized his armor was far behind him.
As the wolves snarled and bared their teeth at him, his only thought was, if the gods had mercy on him, at least he’d see you again soon.
He closed his eyes, jolting when he felt a wolf bite at his pants, opening his eyes and trying to pull his leg away, only to hear the seam rip. The wolf shook it’s head with a mouthful of fabric before spitting it out and growling at Bucky. Bucky braced himself when the wolves charged at him at once, only to quickly realize they weren’t trying to hurt him; it seemed they only wanted to rip his clothes. Bucky hissed out a breath when his now-bare arm swiped a thorn bush, blood dripping from the cut onto his tattered clothes.
He went still when a much larger wolf stepped into the clearing, a strange vial in its mouth that seemed to glow red. Bucky stood as still as he could, until the wolf stopped before him, staring into his eyes until the wolf dropped the vial, deep red smoke curling from Bucky’s feet into his nostrils as he inhaled.
Bucky winced as pain shot through his chest. He coughed, choking a bit before a pain-filled scream left his lips. He couldn’t stop the screams as pain wracked his body, and he hit his knees, hands scrabbling at his chest as he coughed and moaned. He fell forward, landing against something soft, instead of flat on his face in the dirt. Quiet moans left his lips as he felt claws against his legs, and he felt his body being shifted. He managed to catch a glimpse of lightning streaking across the sky before raindrops fell against his overheated skin. As he felt wind whip his face, his only thought was of you, wondering if just maybe, you’d be waiting for him in heaven.
The damp, cool cloth felt like heaven against Bucky’s overheated skin. Fever raged through his body, but gentle caresses and the cloth helped. He kept hearing a soft, familiar voice repeat his name, but the fever kept pushing him down into unconsciousness.
“Sleep,” the gentle voice murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Bucky whispered the name of his lost Princess, asleep before he could hear the voice’s response.
“His fever should have broken by now.” “Perhaps he still had some infection in him.” “You said you got rid of that.” “I don’t know what to tell you, velichiye. Your fever lasted almost as long.”
Bucky was hovering on the edge of consciousness, two feminine voices reaching his ears. He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy. He gave a quiet moan, the swishing of skirts filling the space before a damp cloth was pressed
WORD COUNT: 10,251 (and I am NOT sorry) WARNINGS: Angst, drama, courtroom proceedings, talk of murder, talk of and actual illegal dealings, explicit sexual content, violence AUTHOR’S NOTE: This extra-long chapter is jam-packed and it is a doozy. Good luck, turtledoves. Buckle up for this ride.
Steve paced his bedroom, bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as his long strides took him from one wall to another. He no longer felt the sharp claws of panic digging into his chest; instead, a sense of dread was deep in his gut, so dark he wanted to gather you in his arms, crawl into bed, pull the covers over the two of you and never see the light of day again.
He stopped, clearing his throat, giving a hard shake of his head. He took in a breath, letting it out slowly, lifting his chin and once again rehearsing the words he’d say at the courthouse.
Today was his last chance.
Today would be the last day of your trial. A day of nothing but closing arguments, where Fury would lay out the facts he had presented, ticking off bullet points given by his expert witnesses, bringing up as many of Steve’s failures as he could. Natasha would sit at Fury’s side perfectly poised with her back straight, fiery hair smooth, the picture of Lady Justice.
After Fury gave his closing remarks, Steve would give an impassioned plea that the jury see you as he did, as you were: innocent. He’d do his best to lay seeds of doubt in the jury’s mind where Fury and Natasha were concerned, focusing on the holes in their stories.
Steve nodded, going into his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was in place, beard neatly trimmed. Once he got dressed, he’d be as poised as Natasha.
As long as no one looked in his eyes.
Steve sank to one knee, propping his elbow on his knee. He covered his mouth with one hand, the other gripping hard onto the counter. He closed his eyes and gave in for just a moment, allowing the horror nudging at his mind to wash over him.
“Steve?”
He opened his eyes at the gentle knock on his bedroom door, pushing to his feet.
“Yeah, come in.”
He heard the door open, heard the shuffling of soft footsteps before you were standing in the bathroom doorway.
“Sorry, I was …”
Steve flicked his eyes to the mirror, looking at you instead of his reflection. Your eyes were wide as you studied his bare torso, and they widened the slightest bit more when you caught Steve smiling at you. You looked away, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you fought the smile. Steve chuckled, grabbing his toothbrush out of the holder and wetting it, applying toothpaste and starting to brush his teeth.
You cleared your throat, glancing at the floor before you looked to him.
“I was just making sure you were ready. It’s almost time to go and I hadn’t seen you.”
Steve nodded, bending to spit in the sink before rinsing.
“I’m just in my head today.” “I expect today will be tough for you?”
Steve nodded, putting the toothbrush back and grabbing his bottle of mouthwash. He took a swig and started swishing the liquid in his mouth, letting his head fall back as he gargled before spitting the mouthwash into the sink. He pressed the hand towel to his lips, closing his eyes for a moment.
His eyes opened again at the gentle touch between his shoulder blades. He wiped his mouth and set the towel to the side, turning to face you, leaning against the counter. His hands went to your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs, and you looped your arms around his neck, giving a quiet sigh as he nodded again.
“Today is going to be tough. I’ve got to basically rehash everything we’ve said and done during the trial, reminding the jury of every misstep Fury and Nat took.”
Wouldn’t be too many of those, unfortunately. Steve sighed, licking his lips as he met your eyes again.
“Fury’s going to be tough on you today.” “But I’m not going to be questioned again?”
Steve shook his head.
“Do you remember in school, how we reviewed for finals?” “High school was a long time ago, Steve.”
He smiled.
“I know. But you remember, right? How the teacher had to basically sum up everything we’d learned that year, condensing nine months’ worth of instruction and homework and tests into one final?”
You nodded, and Steve gently squeezed your hips.
“That’s what I’ve got to do today. Bring up every aspect of how innocent you are, what Brock did to you, how even though the bastard deserved what he got, you weren’t the one to give it to him.”
You slowly nodded, closing your eyes as Steve pressed his lips to your forehead. You leaned closer to him, keeping your eyes closed as you rested your head against his bare shoulder. Steve sighed as he leaned his head against yours, closing his eyes as he held you.
“We’re going to get through this, Y/N. I promise.”
You blinked open your eyes, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You nodded, forcing yourself to smile.
“I know.”
You could see the lie in your eyes, thankful that Steve had his eyes closed.
You walked into the apartment and took your shoes off, walking in your stocking-covered feet to the windows. Steve was behind you, setting his briefcase by his shoes and undoing his tie. Bucky was behind him, and Peggy rounded out your crew. She slid her shoes off beside yours, following you to the windows. You glanced over your shoulder when she was close, and she smiled at you.
“That went very well.” “Did it?”
Peggy nodded.
“As well as could be expected. Bucky and I watched the jury, and Steve’s impassioned pleas got to some of them.”
You swallowed.
“Someof them.”
You crossed your arms over your chest and looked back out the windows. You closed your eyes when Peggy’s gentle hand touched your shoulder.
“We just need one, darling.”
You nodded, looking back out the window, seeing Steve’s reflection in the glass. He was staring at you, and you wanted nothing more than to run to him, bury your face in his chest and let him hold you. You didn’t feel like you could do that with Peggy there, so you let your arms fall, turning to face Peggy.
“I need just a minute.” “Of course.”
You stepped past her, going down the hallway to your room. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you made it to your room, closing the door behind you and leaning against it for a moment. You went to the closet, dropping your jacket to the ground on the way. You unbuttoned your shirt and pulled it free of your skirt, letting it fall as your shaky hands pushed through your clothes. You could feel your breath coming faster, feel your heart pounding in your chest. You finally found the shirt you were looking for, hands shaking too hard to get the shirt free of the hanger. You hung your head, looking over your shoulder as you heard your door open.
“Y/N?”
You couldn’t answer, but you figured he must know that. Steve poked his head in to see you standing there in your bra and skirt, and you shook your head.
“I can’t … I can’t get it down. I can’t …”
Steve stepped up behind you and pulled the hanger off the rack, carefully sliding it free, holding the olive-colored shirt in his hands. You watched as he slid the shirt over your head, and as soon as your arms were through the sleeves, he had you wrapped in his own. You gasped, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tightly, moaning softly when he tightened his hold on you.
“I got you. You’re okay. I’m right here.”
You nodded, putting your face in his neck. Steve held you against him, your heartbeat frantic against the steady beat of his own.
You whimpered as he bent his head, shivering when the heat of his breath washed over your neck. Your nails dug into his shoulders and Steve bared his teeth for just a moment.
“You’ve got to calm down, honey. Please. Just breathe for me.” “Steve.” “I’m right here.”
Your hand moved to his cheek, the softness of his beard tickling your palm. He lifted his head the same time you did, and with a gentle nudge of your wrist, your lips were on his. Steve gave a quiet groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand moving to cradle the back of your head. One of your hands slid into his hair, feeling yourself relax with each movement of Steve’s lips against yours. You sucked in a breath and let out a soft laugh against his lips when Steve’s hand slid beneath your shirt, the warmth of his palm burning into the bare skin of your waist.
“We need to stop before Peggy walks in.” “Okay.”
You nodded, making no moves to stop kissing him. Steve chuckled as your fingers slid through his hair, pulling him back when he tried to pull away.
“We’ll have a lot of explaining to do if Peggy catches us.” “You think she doesn’t know?”
Steve blinked as he looked down, watching your dazed eyes slowly blink a few times before you lifted your eyes to his. Steve smiled, leaning in to press one more kiss to your lips.
“I’d like to revisit this …”
He motioned between the two of you with one finger.
“A little later, when we’re alone.” “As you wish, counselor.”
Steve groaned, turning away from you and putting his forehead against the wall.
“You can’t say things like that.” “Like what?”
Your eyes were wide and innocent, and Steve laughed as he took you back into his arms.
“You okay now?”
You nodded, leaning your head against his.
“Thank you.” “Anytime.”
He kissed your temple before he turned and left the closet. You closed your eyes and gave a deep exhale, shimmying out of your skirt and pantyhose, pulling on a pair of leggings. You grabbed the cardigan Steve had given you, squaring your shoulders and nodding once before you left the closet.
Steve was looking over files as he sat on the couch while you tried to read a book. Peggy and Bucky had left after the four of you ate Chinese takeout for dinner, their talks of the trial mostly going over your head. Steve kept nudging your ankle with his toes under the table, smiling at you when you’d look at him.
“Are you ever going to turn the page?”
You blinked as you lifted your head from the book in your lap. Steve was looking at the paper he held in his hand, a smile on his face. After a moment, he set the paper aside, turning towards you. You stared at him, until a chuckle spilled from his lips.
“You’ve been on that same page ever since we sat down. You’re not reading at all.”
You huffed as you set the book aside.
“I can’t focus. My mind’s all over the place and I feel like I could crawl out of my skin.”
Steve nodded.
“I know. It’s the trial.” “I know it’s the trial, but why am I still acting like this?”
Steve stood up, walking over to your side of the couch and sitting beside you. You sucked in a breath as he scooped you up, sitting you in his lap, settling back and running his fingers up and down your arm. You gave a quiet whimper, relaxing into him and resting your head on his shoulder.
“You’re all wound up from the trial. Everything’s hitting you at once.” “I don’t like it.” “I know.”
Steve chuckled, letting his hand drift lower, until he was gently massaging your knee.
“I, uh… I think I remember a way to relax you.”
You raised an eyebrow a few moments before you sat back. Steve slowly turned his head to meet your eyes, and you watched his eyes dip to your lips before meeting yours again. You smiled, shifting until you were straddling his lap. You put your hands on his shoulders and he shook his head.
“This may be a bad idea.” “I think I’m due for a bad idea.”
Steve laughed as his warm hands moved to cup your cheeks. You gave a quiet sigh as he gently tugged you down, until your lips were pressed against his.
“How long will the jury deliberate?”
You and Steve were cuddled together on the couch, watching the snow fall outside the big windows. You had his cardigan wrapped around you, your back to his side. His arm was loosely around your waist, his other hand absentmindedly tapping on the arm of the couch.
“There’s no way to tell. They could come back now, or they could deliberate for the rest of the month.”
You slowly nodded, giving a deep exhale. Steve turned his head to kiss the top of yours.
“It’s going to be fine, babe. Whatever happens, you’ll be fine.” “That’s easy for you to say.” “Y/N, I promised I was going to get you out of this. I meant it.” “You did the best you could, Steve. I just …” “What? Hope it was enough?”
You looked down at your hands.
“I didn’t say that.” “I know. Honey, hey. Look at me.”
You shook your head, so Steve slid off the couch until he was on the floor in front of you. He gently touched you, lifting your chin until your eyes were on his. He shook his head again.
“I’m not going to let you go to jail.” “Steve—“ “No, I mean it.”
You shook your head.
“It’s not up to you. It’s in the jury’s hands now.”
Steve nodded, but something in his eyes made you stop. You tilted your head, shaking it slightly.
“Steve, what did you do?”
Steve’s blue eyes burned into yours, neither of you saying a word until his soft voice broke the silence.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” “Steve.”
He stood to his feet, holding a hand out for you.
“Steve, talk to me.” “When there’s something to talk about, we will. Until then, let’s go to bed.”
You stared up at him, a smile coming to his lips.
“Do I need to throw you over my shoulder caveman style? I’ll do it.” “I want you to tell me—“ “I will, I promise. Just be with me now.”
You closed your eyes, gasping softly when Steve bent to gather you in his arms. You put your face against his chest, looping one arm around his neck as he carried you down the hall to your bedroom.
You were standing at the stove, oven mitt on one hand, holding tightly to the glass bowl you had over a pot of simmering water. Your wrist was working a whisk, doing your best to ensure the hollandaise sauce turned out. Steve was sitting at the bar watching you, elbow on the counter, chin on his hand.
“Did it work?” “Not finished yet.”
Steve hummed to himself, biting his lip as he watched you concentrate. He watched as you slowed your whisking, lifting the whisk from the sauce, watching it drip silkily back into the bowl. You turned to him with a big smile on your face.
“It worked!”
Steve gave a soft laugh, sitting back as he watched you plate the breakfast you’d worked so hard on, spooning the sauce over the top of the eggs Benedict. You set a plate in front of him and he grabbed hold of your hand.
“Would you go to culinary school?”
You smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.
“I don’t know.” “Why not?” “I’m too old.” “Babe, you’re never too old.”
You looked down at your hand in Steve’s, the gentle way his thumb slid over your skin.
“I’d like to, but I don’t know if I’d make it.” “You’d make it.” “You’re just saying that because you like what I feed you. Cooking is a very competitive field.” “It doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to go to culinary school and then open your own restaurant and cook for kings. You could go because you love it and to hone your skill. Graduate and use the degree to cook for me.”
You gave a sharp laugh.
“Think that highly of yourself, do you?” “Let’s be honest, I’d gain so much weight if you did that.”
You laughed again, smiling when Steve lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“If you want to go to culinary school, we’ll make it happen. If you want to just watch YouTube tutorials and use me as your guinea pig, I’m good with that, too.”
Your smile softened as he took a bite, the groan of appreciation that left his lips causing your cheeks to warm. You ate your breakfast as Steve gobbled his up, and once he was debating licking his plate, you spoke softly.
“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
Steve finished the coffee at his elbow, shaking his head.
“Y/N, I’ve told you—“ “I need you to stop acting like me going to prison isn’t an option. There’s a very real chance the jury finds me guilty, Steve.” “They won’t. I made sure that they see you as I do and I—“ “Steve.”
You blew out a breath, shaking your head as you set your hands on your hips. Your eyes met his and you shook your head again, mouth opening, then closing as the doorbell rang. Steve shook his head, making no moves to get up.
“They’ll go away.”
There was a knock at the door this time and you sighed.
“I don’t think they will.” “Y/N—“ “I’ll just go to my room. I’m not feeling very up to company right now.”
Steve repeated your name, but you just touched your palm to his cheek as you walked by him, going down the hallway to your room, pulling his cardigan tighter around you. The knock resounded off the door again and Steve blew out a breath as he stood up and walked over to fling open the door.
“Easy, killer. Where’s the fire?”
Steve hung his head as Tony walked past him to let himself in. Steve closed the door and turned to lean against it, slowly lifting his head and opening his eyes. Tony raised an eyebrow and Steve shook his head, walking through the penthouse to his office, Tony following close behind. Once there, Steve locked the door, then turned to the man he considered his brother.
“Did you get it?”
Tony pulled out a sealed Manila envelope.
“Of course I got it.”
Steve nodded, taking the envelope and tapping it against his palm.
“How much do I owe?” “Don’t worry about it.” “Tony—“ “Hey. You want to protect her, I want to protect you. This is how it goes. If this ever goes down, there’s nothing leading to you.” “So, what? You’ll take the blame?” “Hell no. There’s nothing leading to me, either. I know there’s a song to the opposite and all, but you want to keep friends in high places, counselor.”
Steve snorted, tapping the envelope against his palm again.
“And it’s all in here?”
Tony nodded, eyes darting to the envelope before he let out a sigh.
“Look, there’s something in there for you, too.”
Steve’s eyebrows furrowed and Tony shook his head.
“I think we both know what’s going to happen when she finds out what’s in this envelope. I just know that if it were Pepper …”
His sentence trailed off as he looked at the envelope in Steve’s hands, then nodded. Steve swallowed, looking down, then back up.
“Tony—“ “Just …”
He shook his head, walking over and taking the envelope, using one hand to press it against Steve’s chest.
“The less I know the better.” “You’re in too deep as it is.” “Yeah, but I’m like a steel trap.”
Tony smiled as he patted the envelope against Steve’s chest. Steve took it, looking down at it as Tony walked to the door.
“Little brother?”
Steve lifted his head, a sad smile on Tony’s face.
“Whatever happens with this trial … whether you decide to use what’s in that envelope or not … I get it.” “I love her, Tony.” “I know. I’m just sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” “Tone—“
Tony shook his head, smiling back at Steve.
“We’ll talk when all this has blown over.”
For half a second, Steve wondered if Tony truly understood what he was saying. Tony’s smile slipped for a millisecond as he was unable to hide the wave of grief that slipped over his face, and Steve knew that Tony knew exactly what he was saying.
“Tony.”
Tony turned from his place at the door, one hand on the doorknob. He smiled again, nodding as he winked at Steve. Steve could only nod back, sinking into his desk chair as Tony walked out of the apartment.
You walked out of your bedroom, hoping whoever had been in the apartment had left. You were desperate to see Steve, to feel his arms around you and soak in his strength. You stopped in the living room, across from the wall of windows as he walked into the kitchen. He had a large envelope in his hand that he set on the counter, stopping and pulling his phone from his pocket. You watched a myriad of emotions cross his face as he read the text, and as his blue eyes lifted to you, you felt your heart sink to your toes.
“What is it?” “The jury reached a verdict. We’re due in court at nine A.M. tomorrow.”
You stared at him, slowly nodding as he slid the phone onto the kitchen counter. You turned to look out the windows and he made his way to you.
“Honey.”
You turned and threw your arms around him when he was near, body trembling almost violently in his arms. Steve closed his eyes, resting his head on yours.
“I’m here. You’re okay. I’m right here.” “What am I … oh god. Steve.” “Shh. You’re okay.”
You clung to him, holding him as tightly as he was holding you. Tears came to your eyes as you whispered almost silently.
“I’m so scared.”
Steve would have sworn his heart had broken then as he pulled you even closer.
“I’ve got you. Do you hear me, Y/N? I have you. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”
You gave a quiet whimper and Steve rubbed your back as he continued speaking.
“You’re okay. You’re going to be fine. You’re not going anywhere.”
You gave a shaky breath, then pushed your way out of his arms. Steve stared at you with worry in his eyes and confusion on his face and you shook your head.
“How can you say that?! How can you stand there and say everything is fine when it’s so clearly not?!”
Steve’s eyebrows raised as you shook your head again.
“Don’t stand there and say that I’m going to be fine because I won’t be.”
Steve pursed his lips and nodded.
“You’re not going to prison.” “You don’t know that.” “Yes, I do.” “It’s illegal for you to talk to the jury, so no, you don’t know.”
Steve turned and walked out of the room, and you closed your eyes, letting out a long breath. You lifted a hand to rub at your eyes, setting your jaw when he walked back into the room. He had the Manila envelope in his hand that he’d been carrying earlier, and he handed it to you. You shook your head, taking the envelope from him.
“What is this?” “Open it.”
You met his eyes, just staring at him for a moment before you bent the metal flaps at the back and opened the envelope. You looked inside, then back to Steve, walking to the bar in the kitchen and turning the envelope upside down, the contents spilling onto the bar. You glanced back at Steve as shaky fingers reached for the passport on top.
You opened the little book and your eyebrows furrowed. The face printed on the paper was your own, but the name was wrong. You shook your head, looking to Steve.
“What is this?”
He nodded to you, and you lifted a piece of paper. Your breath caught in your throat as you read the birth certificate. Most of the details were correct, such as the length and weight, but the location, the date, the name, and the names of the parents were wrong. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you looked back to Steve.
“What have you done?”
Steve put his hands in his pockets, slowly making his way to you.
“I’m not going to lie and say that I know all the business Tony does is above board. I’m not stupid or naive. I asked him for this.” “You asked him to … to what? Steal an identity?”
Steve chuckled.
“We didn’t steal anyone’s identity. We made you a new one.”
You could hear the blood rushing in your ears as you stared at the papers in front of you. You shook your head again, hand shaking as you laid it on the pile of papers before you.
“Steve.” “Look.”
He picked up the passport, looking at the name.
“Kathleen Michelle Barber. You could be Kat. Or Katie, Kate. We could call you Micki. Micki Barber doesn’t have anything to do with Y/N Rumlow. They don’t even know each other.” “Because Micki Barber isn’t real.”
Steve dropped the passport, taking hold of your hands.
“But she couldbe.”
You shook your head, pulling your hands free from his.
“I can’t pretend to be someone else. I’ll … I’ll spend the rest of my life on the run and I don’t want to do that.” “But you’ll be free.”
You shook your head again, raking your hands through your hair.
“I spent my whole adult life wanting to hide from Brock.”
You closed your eyes at the word, face screwing up as if the taste of his name was sour on your tongue. You shook your head again, meeting Steve’s eyes.
“I can’t spend the rest of my life as a fugitive. I can’t keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can’t, Steve.” “Even if it’s the only way?”
You went still, the weight of his words hitting you. You turned your head to see his eyes on the papers on the bar, lip bit between his teeth.
“Oh.”
He lifted his eyes to yours and you tried to smile.
“Oh.”
Steve shook his head and you lifted a shaky hand to rest on his shoulder. Your lips trembled as you tried to keep your tears at bay, tried to keep smiling.
“You think we’re going to lose.”
He didn’t answer you, just lifted the saddest eyes you’d ever seen to look at you. You nodded, gently squeezing his shoulder.
“You wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if you didn’t think we’d …”
You nodded again, looking at the papers and biting the inside of your cheek. Steve spoke softly.
“I’m so sorry.” “Oh, honey. No.”
You turned to face him, lifting your hands to cup his face. You smiled, giving a tiny shake of your head.
“You did the best you could. You did your very best, and I know that.” “It wasn’t enough.” “It was for me.”
Steve closed his eyes, tilting his head into your touch. You kept hold of his face, turning your head to stare at the papers on the bar. Steve pressed his lips to your forehead, the soft sound of his voice making you close your eyes.
“It’s legit. No one would ever question any of the papers. There’s a driver’s license, birth certificate, GED certificate. There’s a black card with no limit.” “I can’t use that.” “You can. Tony set up the account weeks ago. He won’t even notice the money’s gone. You could get a penthouse like this one. A little cottage in the woods. A bungalow on the beach. Anything you want.”
Your eyes slowly opened and your hands slid from his face to hang at your sides. You turned to face him, reaching up to his chest and taking hold of his sweater in both your hands.
“What if I want you?”
Steve stared at you, hands moving to your waist. You turned your head slightly when he kissed your temple, and you leaned over, moving the pile of papers. Your fingers picked up another small booklet, and you brought it between you and Steve, looking up at him.
“Why would I need two passports?”
Steve took the booklet from you, opening it and feeling his heart give a double-thump in his chest. You went on your tiptoes, peering over the passport to see the picture and name inside. You went back to your flat feet, staring up at Steve, waiting until he lifted his eyes and met yours. He shook his head, looking back down at the passport in his hand.
“I didn’t … I don’t …”
You took hold of his wrist, moving it until you could read the name.
“Andrew Stephen Barber.”
He met your eyes again and you smiled softly.
“Andy? Andy and Micki?”
Steve shook his head, staring down at the passport again.
“This is what he meant.” “Hmm?”
Steve met your eyes, waving the passport slightly.
“Tony, he said there was something for me in the envelope. Said he’d want it if it was Pepper.”
Steve looked back down, at the face staring back at him from the passport, rolling his fingers over the name. You reached back into the pile, a shaky breath leaving your lips when you slid the marriage certificate where Steve could read it. He looked from the paper to you, then back to the paper. You gently took hold of his wrist, waiting until he looked into your eyes.
“Would you come with me?”
He didn’t answer you, and you smiled.
“You have a whole life here, Steve. A family. A job. You can’t leave it.”
He threw the passport onto the bar, grabbing your waist and pulling you close.
“I’d leave it all behind for you.” “I can’t ask you to do that.” “It won’t matter if you’re not here.”
You lifted your hands to his face and he closed his eyes, blowing out a breath. He opened his eyes again and stared at you.
“I’ll do it.” “Steve.” “We can leave tonight.” “And what, never look back?”
Steve nodded, and you let out a quiet laugh. You moved your thumbs along the dip of his cheeks and shook your head.
“I can’t take you away from your friends and family.” “Well, I can’t let them take you away from me.” “Steve—“
He shut you up by laying his lips against yours, kissing you soundly as he pulled you closer. You felt the air seem to shift between you as you slid your arms around him, and Steve gave a soft groan as his lips moved against yours. You pushed your hands under his sweater and he groaned, leaning back to pull the sweater over his head. He gave a quiet laugh when you huffed a breath at his white t-shirt, pulling that over his head and letting it fall to the floor on top of the sweater. You looked up at him as you let the cardigan fall off your shoulders, pooling on the ground. You pulled your t-shirt off and let it fall, and Steve swallowed as he touched you, his big, warm hands skating across your skin, bringing goosebumps in their wake.
“We should slow down. I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.” “I’m okay, Steve.”
You weren’t trembling, nothing in your brain screaming at you to stop or remember how it had been in the past. All you could focus on was Steve, how good he smelled and how good his hands felt on you. You shivered and moved closer to him, and he smiled as he pulled you against his chest. His hands cupped your face as he spoke softly.
“I don’t want you to think we have to do this just because something might happen tomorrow.”
You shook your head.
“I don’t. I just want to be with you, Steve. I just want you.”
Steve held your face in his hands as he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sweet kiss. He let his hands fall, taking hold of your hand as he led you from the living room down to his bedroom. Your eyes widened at the sight of his huge bed, and he walked to it, sitting down on the edge and pulling you to stand between his thighs.
“You’re in charge here.”
You nodded, and Steve went on.
“If you want to stop at any time, just say so.”
You nodded again, and he gave your hand a squeeze.
“I want you to hear me, sweetheart.” “I hear you.” “I mean it. If you’re the slightest bit uncomfortable, we will stop.”
You slid your arms around his neck, shivering when his warm hands pushed you closer to his chest. You stared into his eyes and smiled.
“Move your hands up.”
He did as you asked, one eyebrow raising when you nodded for him to keep going. When his fingers came to rest at the clasp of your bra, you smiled while your cheeks flamed. Steve gave a quiet chuckle, opening the clasp and taking hold of the straps, keeping hold of your bra as you stepped backwards out of it.
He let out a long exhale as he stared at you, dropping the bra to the floor as he stood up and took a step towards you. You let him get a bit closer, then you took a step back. Steve stopped, holding up his hands and stepping back towards the bed.
“No, come … come on.”
Steve tilted his head as he stared at you, and you nodded, a smile on your face.
“It’s okay.”
Steve gave a slow nod, then took a step towards you. You took a step back, and the two of you continued that little dance until your back was against the wall. Steve smiled as he laid one hand against the wall beside your head, dipping his own to rub his nose against yours.
“You playing with me, sweetheart?”
You smiled, sliding one hand to his hip just above his jeans, watching his eyes close as you slid your hand to the small of his back. Steve leaned closer, making his hand into a fist and resting his forearm against the wall. Your eyes slid closed as your fingers flexed, gently pushing on his back. Steve moved closer and a breath caught in your throat.
“You okay?”
You nodded, opening your eyes to see him staring down at you, ensuring you were okay. You smiled, lifting your chin and pressing your lips to his. Steve kissed you back, moving a hand to hold your cheek. Your fingers shook the slightest bit when you reached down to undo his belt, sliding it through the belt loops and dropping it to the floor. Steve moved to rest his forehead against yours as he watched you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down. He kissed your forehead and you gave a shaky exhale, lifting your head so he could kiss your lips.
Steve slid his fingers under the waistband of your leggings, and you sucked in a breath. He knelt as he slowly pulled your leggings down, and you laid a hand on his shoulder as you stepped out of them. Steve turned his head and kissed your knee, standing up only to push his jeans off and step out of them.
He turned and put both hands on the wall behind you, and you closed your eyes, letting your head fall as you arched your back, bumping your chest against Steve’s. After a moment, you opened your eyes, staring into Steve’s. His eyes narrowed the slightest bit and you nodded, your eyes closing again when he dipped his head and kissed your lips.
You wrapped your arms around him when he lifted you in his arms, tunneling your fingers through his hair as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down, letting his hands slowly drift down your sides until he was at your hips. Your exhale was shaky when he dipped to press his lips against the center of your chest, and you closed your eyes as you felt his lips against your skin as he kissed his way down your body. You jolted when you felt his fingers slide under the waistband of your panties, and you lifted your hips to help him take them off.
“You okay?”
You nodded, and Steve spoke softly as he took hold of your ankle, silently urging you to bend your knee.
“Sweetheart?” “I’m okay.” “You’d tell me if you weren’t?”
You nodded again, taking the hand Steve reached towards you, lacing your fingers with his.
“This okay?” “Yes.”
You kept a tight hold of his hand, eyes flying open as a shocked gasp left you when his tongue slipped through your folds. He did it again, only for you to whimper and whisper an oh my god. He lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, his nose nudging your clit as he continued his ministrations with his tongue. He tugged on your hand, pulling it down to rest in his hair, his hand moving to gently grasp your breast.
“Steve.”
You moaned when he lifted his head, shivering at the feel of his warm breath against your damp skin.
“I’m here, baby.”
You nodded, and he gave an almost-silent chuckle when you pushed his head back between your legs. You gasped when you felt his tongue again, and the sweetest moan of his name escaped your throat. Your hand tightened in his hair and Steve increased his efforts. You shook your head, groans and barely coherent semblances of his name leaving your lips. You gave a sob when Steve gently pushed one finger into you, and as his fingertip brushed across a spot that made your blood turn to fire in your veins, you felt every muscle in your body tighten painfully for a split second. Then, bliss filled your veins and encased every nerve ending. Steve closed his eyes as your breathy chants of his name warmed his heart, and when your body collapsed on the bed, he gently moved to hover over you.
Your eyes were wide as you stared into his, your hand shaking so badly as you lifted it to his cheek you were afraid you might slap him. Steve covered your hand with his, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of your palm and you shook your head.
“You …” “It’s okay. Just breathe.”
You shook your head, pressing your palm more firmly against his cheek.
“I never … you …”
Steve smiled softly as he moved a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, his fingertips gently caressing your face. You closed your eyes and took in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly, opening your eyes to stare into his.
“You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like that.”
Steve’s eyes widened, one eyebrow raising. You felt your cheeks heat, but you shook your head, taking hold of his face and bringing it down until you could kiss his lips. Steve settled his body on top of yours and you moaned into his mouth, letting your hands travel down his neck, his chest, over his wide shoulders and to his tiny waist. You moved your hips, smiling when Steve groaned.
“Baby—“ “I’m okay.” “We don’t have to—“ “I know.”
You leaned up to kiss him again, speaking softly against his lips.
“I want to.” “Don’t do this just because you think I want it.”
You shook your head, and he sighed.
“I don’t want you to think I’m only making love to you because you might be going away tomorrow.”
You smiled, moving your hands back to hold his face. Steve closed his eyes, reveling in your touch as his hips unintentionally rubbed against yours. You gave a quiet gasp, and he opened his eyes to see you smiling at him.
“I just want to be as close to you as I can. No matter what happens tomorrow, I want this tonight. I want you, Steve.”
He lowered his head and kissed your lips. You bent your knees and moved your legs to either side of Steve’s hips. You watched him sit up, felt the bed move as he stood to take off his underwear. He moved to kneel between your legs and caught your eye.
“You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable?”
You nodded and Steve nodded as he reached between your legs, his thumb rubbing through your wetness. You gave a soft moan and he gave a shaky exhale.
“Steve?”
He lifted his eyes to yours and you nodded to him. He took the hint, moving to hover over you again, and you lifted up to kiss him. Your arms wove around him as the two of you kissed, and you dug your nails into his back when he started to push inside you. You broke from the kiss just to breathe, and Steve moved one hand to cradle your head. You shook your head, speaking softly.
“Wait.” “Okay.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Steve was pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and forehead until you nodded. You groaned when he pushed in deeper, sobbing out a breath when he ducked his head to rest his forehead against yours.
“God, you’re so tight.” “Steve—ohgod.”
His groan mixed with yours when he bottomed out, and he lifted his head to see your wide eyes staring back at him. He bent to kiss your lips, just soaking in the warmth and the feel of you. He groaned when you clenched around him, shaking his head.
“You okay?” “Move. Please, move.”
He did as you asked, your drawn-out moan radiating through him. He grabbed one of your hands and pushed it to the bed beside your head, his hand moving down your arm until his palm was flush with, fingers twined with yours. He groaned again, shaking his head as your hips worked to meet his.
“God, I missed you. I need you.” “Steve.” “Stay with me.”
Tears came to your eyes as you looped your arm around his neck, pulling yourself up to kiss him. Your head fell back when Steve increased his thrusts, your next orgasm taking you by surprise as much as the first one had. Steve groaned as you clenched around him so tightly he could barely move, and he buried his face in your hair as you gasped and breathed his name. Steve’s drawn-out groan seemed to rattle up from deep in his chest, his hips stilling as he reached his peak.
Steve lifted his head from your shoulder, gently pressing his lips to your skin before shifting to look at your face. You were staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving with every breath you took.
“Sweetheart?”
You didn’t answer him, and Steve swallowed as he moved into your line of sight.
“Y/N, talk to me. Please.”
God, he hatedhimself right then. He knew you weren’t ready for something as big as this. He pulled out as gently as he could, preparing to find his phone and call Peggy to see if she could bring you back when your hands quickly went to his back, stilling his movements.
“Hey, baby. Y/N?”
You met his eyes, your own full of tears. Steve’s heart fell and you shook your head, one hand moving to cup his face.
“I don’t want to go to jail.” “Sweetheart.” “I want to stay here with you.” “I know.”
You shook your head, a sob escaping your throat as tears slid down your cheeks. Steve lowered his body back onto yours, closing his eyes when you wrapped your arms around him.
“I’m so scared.” “I know, baby. I know.”
You cried into his shoulder as he held you, his soft murmurs barely registering with you. When your sobs died down some, Steve spoke softly into your ear.
“We’ll take those documents tomorrow and we’ll go. Just you and me. We’ll be okay, I promise.” “Steve.” “Shh. I got you. I’ll take care of you. Didn’t I tell you that? Haven’t I shown you that I won’t let anything bad happen to you?”
You whimpered as he closed his eyes, lips at your ear as he whispered the next words.
“Can’t you see how much I love you?”
You gasped at the words, pushing him gently until there was space between you to look up at his face. His hand moved to cup your cheek and he shook his head.
“Don’t say it back until you mean it. I don’t care how long that takes.” “I’m sorry.” “Shh, no. It’s okay. After everything you’ve been through, I get it. I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.”
He ducked his head to kiss your cheek before putting his face in your hair. One of your hands shook as you tunneled your fingers through his hair.
“Steve—“ “Don’t say anything.”
You gave a soft whimper and he pulled away, moving off of you, laying on the bed beside you. You closed your eyes and went to roll away from him, but Steve gathered you in his arms, pulling your back against his chest, curling his body around yours. You kept your eyes closed, one hand lifting to grip his wrist.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just rest.”
You nodded, then let go of him, pushing gently until he let you go. You rolled onto your side facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve pulled you closer, one of his thighs pushing between your legs until you wrapped your leg around his hip.
“I’m here. I’ve got you.”
He pressed his lips to your forehead, one hand moving to rest against the small of your back.
“Sleep, beautiful.”
You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder, sleep overtaking you before you knew it.
Your body was too hot, your skin feeling too tight when you woke in the middle of the night. You found yourself staring at Steve’s sleeping face, but you felt smothered, and you somehow managed to slither out of his hold without waking him up. He grumbled incoherent words, rolling into his stomach and shoving his arms under his pillow. You couldn’t help but smile, tiptoeing into the bathroom, then grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it over your head as you crept from the room.
The apartment felt cold as you made your way to the kitchen, and you wished you had your (Steve’s) cardigan. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, the cool liquid feeling like heaven on your parched throat. You took another drink, then turned to stare at the pile of documents on the counter.
You set the bottle aside, walking to pick up one of the papers. You read Kathleen Michelle Barber’s birth certificate, setting it aside. You picked up a driver’s license, staring at your face beside Kathleen’s name.
Micki. You’d liked Steve’s suggestion of calling you Micki.
You stared at the credit card with the smooth black face, shaking your head before pushing it aside. You picked up another document, staring down at the marriage license. Kathleen Michelle and Andrew Stephen, joined in matrimony on August third. You’d always thought you’d have a spring wedding, or maybe one deep in winter. Your bridesmaids would have stark red dresses that stood out against the snow.
You shook your head, rolling your fingertips over the signatures at the bottom of the license. It looked like your handwriting, but you didn’t really understand how. You lifted your eyes to the passports and papers and cards and shakily set the marriage license back down.
It would be so easy. You and Steve could disappear without a trace, you were sure of it. But you were also sure that Alexander Pierce would spend the rest of his life looking for you, and you couldn’t spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. You pressed a hand to your mouth, eyes darting up when you heard the commotion and the calling of your name, Steve running into the kitchen and coming to a hard stop when he saw you standing there.
“Oh, Jesus. Goddamn it.” “Steve?” “I … I thought …”
He hung his head and you went to him, laying a gentle hand between his shoulder blades.
“I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
He grabbed your other hand, holding it tightly as you gently rubbed his back. He shook his head, moving to take you into his arms, holding you tightly. You put your forehead against his shoulder, and after a moment, he maneuvered you until he could kiss you. His hands moved to cup your face as his lips moved against yours, and your hands came to rest on his hips. Steve lifted you into his arms, carrying you back down the hall. He laid you on the bed and moved over you, your hands digging into his thick shoulders as he pushed inside you. You moaned as Steve shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I can’t—“
He groaned as you dug your nails in, raking them down his back. You met his thrusts as best you could, feeling your insides start to twist as pressure started building in your core. Steve’s lips met your own, and on a particularly hard thrust, you turned your head and gasped as ecstasy burst through your veins. Steve groaned into your ear as his warmth filled you, his lips pressing against your forehead as his hips went still.
Steve rolled onto his back beside you, chest heaving as he stared at the ceiling. Your shaky hand slid into his and he pulled your joined hands to his chest. You turned your head to look at him, and he shook his head.
“That was … Did I hurt you?” “No, I’m okay.” “You sure?”
Steve turned his head to look at you and you smiled.
“I am more than okay, I promise.”
He shook his head.
“I didn’t mean to be so rough. I just … I woke up and you weren’t here and I … I panicked.”
You slid closer to him, leaning over him this time.
“I promise you, I’m not going to sneak out. I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Steve nodded, closing his eyes when you bent and kissed his lips. He lifted the hand not holding yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. You laid down beside him, putting your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heart lulling you back to sleep.
You were wrapped in a towel, gently dragging a comb through your wet hair. Steve was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. You purposefully weren’t looking at him, and after a few silent minutes, Steve sighed.
“You’re not going to use the papers, are you?”
You slid the comb through your untangled hair and looked into the mirror, meeting his eyes. You set the comb on the counter, then turned to face him.
“I’m not going to run, Steve. I can’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Steve nodded, looking down at his feet.
“I’m sorry.”
Steve closed his eyes, pushing off from the door to kneel in front of you.
“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t think you’d go for it, if I’m being honest. I just … I just want to make sure you’re okay and keep you from going to prison for something you didn’t do.” “You did your best to make the jury see that, honey.”
You cupped his bearded cheeks in your hands and he closed his eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, Steve. Even if they find me guilty—“ “The only way it’ll be okay is if you’re back in my bed tonight where you belong.”
You blinked as his sapphire eyes stared into yours, and he leaned forward to kiss you before standing to his feet. Your arms fell back by your sides as Steve went to the sink to brush his teeth.
Not for the first time that morning, you stood on shaky legs and silently prayed that everything would be okay by the end of the day.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” “We have, your honor.”
You stood at Steve’s gentle nod, glancing back to see Bucky and Peggy with grim smiles on their faces. You turned your attention to the jury and fought to keep your knees from giving out. Steve stood as close to you as he could without outright touching you, the fabric of his suit jacket brushing against your arm. You blinked and gave a shaky exhale as Pierce began to speak.
“In the charge of Murder in the first degree, how do you find?”
The foreman of the jury answered.
“We the jury find the defendant …”
You took in a breath and held it.
“Not guilty.”
You blinked, eyes darting from one jury member to the next. Some sat stoically, some refused to meet your eyes, but a couple gave you a nod or a reassuring smile. You lifted your eyes to see Steve smiling at you, and he bent to hug you. You closed your eyes as his arms came around you and you almost melted into his warmth.
“I told you so.”
You smiled, but it quickly left your face as Pierce spoke again.
“Well… members of the jury, the court thanks you for your service. However …”
Steve let you go, murmuring “no” under his breath. You looked to Bucky, whose face was like stone, worry evident all over Peggy’s features. Pierce had a smile on his face as he spoke again.
“I’m invoking a verdict notwithstanding and finding the defendant guilty.”
The courtroom seemed to erupt then. Murmurs and whispers rose from the audience, the jury, and Steve’s voice could be heard over all of them.
“You can’t do that! She hasn’t done anything wrong!”
Steve began spouting terms you weren’t sure of, cases that came before yours and the precedents they put in place. Pierce was yelling back, something about contempt of court, and you looked across the room to the table on the other side, seeing Fury and Natasha sitting calmly and quietly.
Toocalmly for attorneys who had just lost an important case.
“Psst. Hey.”
You turned your head to see Tony kneeling behind your chair.
“Steve’s about a second and a half away from approaching the bench and beating the shit out of Pierce himself. When he moves, Bucky will cause a commotion and you and I can sneak out the back.”
You blinked and Tony grabbed your knee, squeezing once.
“This is your last chance, kid.”
You shook your head.
“I’m not going to run.”
Your head shot to Fury’s table when a loud noise was heard. Fury brushed his hands off, the heavy textbook he’d just dropped on the table in front of him. Pierce raised an eyebrow, but Fury just brushed his hands over the front of his suit jacket.
“The people do not agree with your verdict, your honor.” “We’ll make a note of that, counselor. In the meantime—“ “No, actually, I have a question for you.”
The room was silent as Fury turned to Natasha, as she handed him a piece of paper that he carried to the bench.
“Judge Pierce, do you recognize this?”
Pierce put his glasses on his nose, eyebrows raising as he read the paper.
“Fury, what the hell is this?” “If that doesn’t jog your memory, perhaps this will. Can you read this for the court, sir?”
Pierce yanked the next piece of paper from Fury’s hands, scanning it before lifting his eyes to Fury.
“Are you out of your mind? This is illegal!” “Actually, sir, this warrant gave us permission for it.”
Natasha stood this time, heels clicking on the floor as she carried the warrant to the bench. Pierce shook his head, refusing to take the paper from her hand.
“This is a witch hunt!” “And you know what this little ‘witch hunt’ discovered?”
Your eyes were locked on Fury as he turned from the bench, as Natasha walked back to sit at their table.
“Multiple withdrawals from your account in the Caymans. ‘Anonymous’ deposits to an account that, after a few false leads and fake accounts, we discovered is used notoriously for … shall we call them mercenaries?”
Fury turned to Natasha, who shrugged her shoulders.
“Guns for hire?”
Fury mirrored her movements, lifting his shoulders and letting them fall as he nodded.
“Guns for hire who, when nudged ever so slightly…”
Fury turned to face the judge.
“Sang like a bird when asked about you.”
Your eyes widened as you looked to Steve, who was staring at Fury with his mouth open slightly.
“Oh, son of a bitch.”
You glanced behind you at Bucky’s whispered statement to see him with a hand covering his mouth. He leaned to whisper to Peggy and you watched her dark eyes widen. Natasha cleared her throat as she stood again.
“These payments were for a high-priority job, one that came with danger due to the high-profile target. One Brock Rumlow.”
Pierce shook his head, a sneer on his face.
“And you think a couple payments from an alleged account of mine proves that I set a hit on Brock? He was like a son to me!”
Pierce shook his head as Natasha nodded.
“See, that’s what we thought, too. Until the hitmen denied ever finishing the job.”
Pierce nodded, his sneer turning to a smug smile. Fury cleared his throat then.
“No. Ultimately, theydidn’t finish the job.”
You closed your eyes, bowing your head.
“No, sir. That was you.”
Your head popped up as Pierce laughed, shaking his head.
“Oh, Nick. I haven’t been on the receiving end of a good prank in a long time. Touché, son. Good job.”
Fury smiled, something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen.
“This isn’t a prank, sir. You were the one who killed Brock Rumlow.” “And you’re sure of this how?” “Because of the eyewitness testimony of an old friend.”
The doors to the court opened and you turned to see the woman you once considered your best friend, the woman your husband had cheated on you with. Her hair was shorter, platinum blonde instead of the dark brown you were used to. She met your eyes for a split second before Maria Hill pointed to the judge.
“That’s him. He’s the one who killed Brock.”
Pierce shook his head, mouth opening, but Maria cut him off.
“I let him in the door, told him Brock was upstairs. Next thing I knew, he was running down the stairs with blood soaking his clothes. He told me to call Y/N, get her there as quickly as I could or he’d kill me. He’s been paying me to stay away and keep my mouth shut.”
You looked to Pierce, then back to Maria, who was looking at you with sorrow in her eyes.
“I can’t let him punish you anymore. I’m so sorry.”
You looked back to Pierce, saw the sneer on his face and the anger in his eyes. You’d only seen that much hatred on Brock’s face before. You glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he watched Pierce. The buzz in the room only seem to grow louder, reporters standing to their feet as they yelled questions to Maria and the judge. Steve stood and faced Fury and Natasha, and you stood to lay a hand on his back. You couldn’t take your eyes off Alexander Pierce.
“What?”
You didn’t answer him, your eyes glued to Pierce as you watched his lips curl in a sneer, his chest rising and falling with the quick breaths he was taking.
“Y/N, what? What is it?”
Steve turned to you, taking your hands. You shook your head, watching Pierce finally take his eyes from you, his eyes darting around the room before landing on the bailiff beside him. You squeezed Steve’s hands as he spoke again.
“Y/N, talk to me. What is it?”
You couldn’t get the words out, lips trembling as you watched Pierce leap from his seat, yanking the bailiff towards him then pushing him away. Your eyes widened as you were finally able to speak one word.
“Gun!”
Steve’s head jerked to Pierce, seeing him level the gun he’d taken from the bailiff and point it towards you. Steve grabbed you and pulled you close, turning his back to Pierce and pushing you down to the ground, the courtroom silent again until a shot rang out.
Summery: after a traumatic event, you suffer from severe anxiety
A/n: please seek help if you can relate to this. Also I just wanted to write something inspired to this quote.
“Are the pills helping?” Your therapist asked you as you sat on the couch opposite of her.
“No, not really.” You honestly told her as you fiddled with your fingers.
“Are you taking them on a regular basis?” She asked.
“Yeah, every evening like you told me to.”
To say that you were tired was a complete lie. You were drained off of every little hormone that would make you feel enthusiastic.
You haven’t gotten a good night sleep in months and going outside made you anxious.
“Well we might have to put you on more meds to control the insomnia and anxiety.” She said as she wrote something down in her book.
“Have you been having nightmares lately?”
“I barely slept but if I did, yes.”
“What were they about?”
You didn’t really want to relive them but you knew that you had to be honest with her.
“About what happened. All of them were the same.”
“How did they make you feel?”
“I just wanted them to stop.” You honestly answered.
“Did you make them stop?”
“No, I always stay awake the rest of the night, but I already told you that.”
“Yeah, yes you did. Okay I’ll write you your new doses down and then we’ll see each other again next week.” She told you.
You knew if she could she would continue talking with you, but sadly your time was up.
You gave her a tired smile as you stood up and collected your things to leave the office.
—–
Dragging your feet up the stairs to your apartment, you could feel the exhaustion creeping up your body.
You went inside and got the water in your bathtub running, wanting to take a long and relaxing bath before maybe watching a movie.
Sinking into the bathtub, you closed your eyes for just a second.
Suddenly you were woken up by a loud crash.
Anxiety began to rise up and filled your stomach with a weird and uncomfortable feeling as you slowly went out of the tub and grabbed a towel. You were scared of your life as tears called down your cheeks.
Slowly you walked out of the bathroom and went into the direction the sound came from.
Your heartbeat fastened as your breaths became faster and faster, without catching much oxygen.
Memories of the worst day of your life flashed through your mind, as if this was a deja vu.
Walking into the living room, you expected the worst.
You expected your life to end for a second time, and for a short second you might would have welcomed it all to end.
Slowly your eyes scanned the room as you noticed some picture frames laying on the floor. You let out a long breath, knowing that they probably got knocked over by the wind blowing in through the open window.
Quickly you closed the window and expected your breathing to go back to normal, but it didn’t.
It became hard for you to take deep breaths as you slid down to the floor and leaned against the couch.
Slowly you tried to control the panic attack, just like you had to do already a thousand times.
A deep breath in, hold it, and then a deep breath out. You repeated the same thing a few times, until you almost had it fully under control again.
But you knew that everything was useless.
All the meds you would have to take, all the meetings and appointments with your therapist, all the self help groups and everything else there to control this anxiety.
You didn’t want to control it, you didn’t want control.
Day by day, Harper got stronger. She and Bucky still spent time together every day, but it was less than before. There was a growing tension between them when they were together, but they did their best to ignore it. Of course, it didn’t help that they always ended up entangled when she sparred with him. Sometimes he would just grab her around the waist and pull her in close; other times, he would let her knock him down so that she would be on top of him.
They both knew they had feelings for each other, but Harper was adamant about not acting on those feelings. She would admit that she owed him her life, but she didn’t want him to know that. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy his company; she loved spending time with him. He was a fantastic sparring partner, and he made her laugh more often than she thought possible. But it didn’t matter how much she enjoyed his presence; she couldn’t allow herself to get attached to someone.
Harper sat alone on the sniper range. The wind blew softly against her face as she stared at the targets through the scope. Her heart beat rapidly as she took aim at one of the targets, allowing her finger to dance over the trigger. The bullet hit true each time.
“Damn. It’s like you never missed a beat,” a voice behind her said. She turned and saw Bucky approaching. His hair was slightly disheveled, which usually meant that he’d been running. There was a proud grin on his face as he got closer to where Harper stood. She couldn’t help but smile, especially when he looked at her like that. Like he actually cared what she was doing or thinking. She could have gotten used to that look every single day.
“You need something?” she asked. Bucky shook his head. “Then why’re you here?”
Bucky shrugged and moved to sit in the empty chair next to her, crossing his arms over his chest. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I just thought I’d check on you.”
Harper smiled again, her heart skipping a beat. “You see me all the time, Barnes,” she reminded him.
He nodded. “That may be true. But I only see you when we train weapons or spar together.” Bucky paused, looking out toward the targets, “Besides, this is one of my favorite spots,” he chuckled, trying to ease the rising tension. Bucky turned his attention back to Harper, smiling gently.
She glanced up and met his gaze, returning the expression. “You want a shot?” she questioned, gesturing toward the weapon still propped on the ledge. He shook his head no, so she stood and picked the gun up, slinging it over her shoulder so she could head back to the compound.
The two of them continued to talk while they walked back to the building. As Harper and Bucky approached the doors, Clint stepped through to meet them. “Harley! There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” he said, walking toward her.
“Well, you found me,” she replied. “What do you need?”
“I found them,” he said flatly. “I think anyway.”
“Found who?” Bucky questioned, stepping up next to Harper.
“The men that attacked her,” Clint answered.
Harper rolled her eyes. She had figured Clint would find them, but a part of her hoped he would fail. “Are you sure it’s them?”
Clint nodded. “Positive.”
Harper sighed. “Okay, tell me what you found,” she gently demanded, leading them all inside the building.
Clint relayed everything he knew. From where they were living to where they were currently working jobs. All of which matched up perfectly with what Harper had already discovered from digging on her own.
“So, what’s our next move?” Bucky asked.
Harper stopped dead in her tracks, “Our? There is no ‘our next move’ soldier. This is something I need to do.”
“You’re not going alone, Harley,” Clint reminded her.
“The only reason you are allowed to tag along, Hawk, is because they pose a threat to you too. Trust me; I’m still not thrilled over the idea,” she pointed out.
“Harley-” Bucky began.
“No,” she interrupted, “You have done more than enough for me, Barnes. This… This is something Clint and I need to finish alone.” She watched as Bucky’s jaw clenched, obviously not pleased with her response but unwilling to argue further. She appreciated that. Harper turned to Clint, “When are you expecting to leave?” she asked.
“As soon as you feel ready, I guess,” he shrugged.
Harper nodded, “Then let’s get packed.”
The next evening, Clint and Harper arrived at a hotel outside Cedar Falls, Iowa. Harper had to chuckle to herself when she had found out where they were headed. How cliche for them to finally close this chapter in their lives, in the exact same place it all had started.
As the pair worked to unpack things for the task the following day, Harper looked to her brother who seemed just a little on edge. “You sure you’re ready for this?” she asked, propping their quivers and bows next to the dresser.
“It’s just another job, right?” Clint replied. “Taking out the bad guys to keep my family safe?”
Harper chuckled a bit, shaking her head. “These guys may be old, Hawk, but you saw what they can still do.”
Clint shrugged again. “If it was too easy, I’d start to question our own skills.”
Harper nodded, “Fair point.”
Clint closed up his suitcase, having only brought his bow, arrows, and a few articles of clothing. Harper, on the other hand, brought all of her favorite weapons. She pulled out two of her knives and her handgun, along with a few other items, before setting her suitcase on the floor. She took a seat at the small desk in the room and began wiping down her knives first.
Clint sat on the edge of his bed, watching his sister work. He couldn’t help but notice how calm she seemed in her movements. Clint realized that this was the first time, in their adult lives anyway, that he had ever truly seen his sister. They had been on opposing sides for so long that even when they did get along, there always seemed to be tension. But now, even though she was getting ready to kill someone, she wasn’t upset or scared, or even nervous. It was almost like she was going through the motions from pure muscle memory.
“Harley, can I ask you something?” Clint suddenly broke the silence between them.
Harper looked over at him, giving him a curious look. “Sure.”
Clint hesitated. His hands shook slightly from nerves as he spoke. “What… What happened to us? I mean, what really happened? We used to be so close. And then…” he trailed off.
“Is this really a conversation you want to have right now?”
“Yes, actually. I need to know, so I know I can trust you while we’re out there,” he told her. “I mean, it can’t honestly just be that stupid petty jealousy from when we were kids, right?”
“Petty jealousy?” Harper repeated, raising a brow in confusion.
“Yeah, Jacques overlooked you for me?” Clint questioned.
She blinked, “You honestly think that is why we had a fallout? Because some asshole with a sword and gambling issues chose you over me to be his little bitch?” she laughed.
“Then what? What happened between us, Harley? Why are we always fighting now?” Clint asked.
Harper shook her head, looking back down at her weapons as she set the first knife on the desk. “Look, I’ll admit, I was a little jealous when he chose you. I mean, let’s be honest, I’ve always been better than you with weapons. He knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. So yeah, I was jealous. But I grew up, Hawk. I got my life together, got my G.E.D., even had a couple really good jobs.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Clint pressed.
Harper finally looked up and met his gaze. “You know, Clint, there was never a day that passed that I didn’t think about my little brother. The years I was gone, never a day went by that I didn’t wonder if I did the right thing by breaking my promise to mom. Always questioning if you were alive or if you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“Wait…” Clint trailed off, “…Mom? What promise?”
“’You know how your father is, Harper Lee. You need to keep him safe… from everything,’” she began to recite. “’I’m trusting you to be his guardian angel. Promise me you’ll always keep him safe, Harley.’”
Clint stared at her in silence as he processed what she said. “Harley…” he trailed off, unsure if he wanted to continue.
“Then, on my first assignment as a rookie agent, not only does the house I’m working at get robbed… but it’s my brother who happens to be the one breaking in. At least I knew you were alive, though, right?” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Harper grabbed her other knife and began cleaning it as she continued her story. “After Buck left you behind that night, I got right back into that ‘big sister mode.’ He shot both of us that night… but I was older, stronger, I had to keep you safe. Nothing else mattered. But it was painstakingly clear that we couldn’t work together.”
“But… Why?”
“Hawk, you got hurt because you were more concerned about me than yourself.” She paused, glancing at Clint. He remained silent, waiting for the rest of her story. “So, once we were healed up, I left. I left my job; I left my life because I needed to make sure that my brother stayed alive.”
“That’s why you started using the symbol again. So no one actually saw us together,” Clint realized.
Harper nodded. “Yeah, pretty much,” she agreed. She put away her other knife, moving on to cleaning her gun. “I knew it wasn’t enough, though; staying away from you. So, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I called Fury. I told him I had a prospect for him to check out that would be a great addition to his team. Not to mention a perfect fit when he finally made his little Avengers club,” she chuckled.
“That still doesn’t explain why we fight every time we see each other. If you’ve been protecting me all this time, why is it always a fight?” Clint asked, confused. “You ruined my wedding… You…” he groaned, “I mean, for god’s sake, Harley, you shot me the last time we crossed paths. Why?”
Harper sighed, setting the gun back on the desk. “Because,” she began slowly, choosing her words carefully, “If I hadn’t kept you away, I was afraid something would happen to you. I’ve worked for some really bad people, Hawk. If they thought I cared for you, even a little, they’d use that as leverage.” She laughed a little, adding, “Except the wedding. That was personal. I knew Bird was no good for you.”
Clint rolled his eyes, “Wedding aside…” he started, “You’re saying, all these years, it’s just been an act?”
“Basically,” Harper shrugged. “When you started hating me for it, I was a bit hurt, but it made the act far more believable.”
“So, this whole time, I thought it was me. I thought it was my fault that you hated me. I thought I got the job on my own, and you were jealous again; I thought the reason my family was safe was because of the steps I took. And you just went along with that?”
“What would you have wanted me to do, Hawk? Tell you the truth? Put your kids’ lives in danger? Fuck that! I’d rather you hate me than have to go through the pain of losing a child,” she responded angrily.
“We could have kept them safe, Harley. We could have kept you safe,” Clint argued, his voice rising slightly in frustration.
“Iwas safe, Hawk,” she snapped back. “And you know, you’re right. If I had told you the truth, maybe you would have actually helped me when I came to you. But what’s done is done. So can we just focus on moving forward? Once these two are gone, I won’t need your help ever again, and your family will be safe. You can go back to hating me, and you’ll never have to see me again, I promise.”
Clint shook his head, looking at his feet, unable to respond. He sighed heavily.
“For what it’s worth… I am sorry, Hawk. For everything. But I did what I had to do. I made my choice, so you didn’t have to. I couldn’t live with myself if I caused anything to happen to you, the kids, or even Laura,” she explained.
He glanced up at her, his face softening slightly. “It’s okay, Harls,” he replied. “I’m sure if the roles were reversed, I probably would have done the same thing.” He paused, looking down as he continued, “The choice is yours, Harper Lee, but…” Clint took his time, searching for the right words. “Look, the kids seemed to really enjoy your visit. And…”
“Hawk, stop,” she interrupted him, causing him to lift his eyes from the ground. “I know what you’re trying to get at, and I appreciate it. But, I can’t be the sister I once was to you. I can’t stick around, and I can’t join your little team. I’m alone in this, and that’s how I need to stay. It’s for the best,” she explained, staring him in the eyes.
Clint looked back at her silently for a few moments before nodding, accepting the answer without arguing. “How about we agree to disagree? And we can talk about it after we’re done with this job?” he suggested.
“Sure, Hawk,” she smiled.
Harper left her weapons lying on a cloth on the desk. She bent down, dug out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from her suitcase, and made her way to the bathroom to change. Maybe working with Clint won’t be so bad. She mused as she pulled on her shorts, turning to look at her reflection in the mirror as she ran her fingers over the scars on her shoulder. Then again, I do my best work alone.
It had been a month since Harper was brought back to the tower. She had been going to physical therapy every morning, despite the fact that she no longer required assistance with anything, and she was finally feeling back to her old self. It would still take some work for her to use her bow, or a gun, at least as she once had, but she was determined to get out of the care of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers as soon as she could.
Fury decided that the best option for her was to move to the compound. She would be able to heal in peace, mostly, and she would be able to work with weapons any time she wanted. Harper begrudgingly agreed, if for no other reason than knowing she owed her life to him. What harm could a few weeks in a guarded vacation home do anyway?
Four weeks at the compound passed quickly. Thanks to the serum, she was healing rapidly, felt stronger than ever before, and was finally able to use her right arm without much issue. She still wasn’t a hundred percent yet, but she was close enough.
Bucky had stuck by her side as much as she allowed, helping her to regain her strength and accuracy both in combat and with weaponry. She trusted him enough to let him take care of her, but it wasn’t always easy. Harper had never been one to allow anyone to get close to her. She was always guarded, cautious, and wary. But Bucky made her feel relaxed in a way that she’d only ever been able to relax around him. Harper now knew what it felt like, to be vulnerable, and it wasn’t a feeling she ever wanted to experience again. Bucky understood this and was very patient with her.
One afternoon, they were in the gym sparring with each other. He was careful with her right side, knowing her shoulder had taken the brunt of the damage and had yet to heal fully, or so he assumed.
“Come on, soldier, I know you can do better than that,” Harper taunted him.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky protested.
“I’ve told you, soldier. I’ll be fine. After everything I went through, you’re nothing,” Harper retorted.
He scoffed, “And I’ve told you, call me Bucky. I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore, okay?”
“Fine… Bucky. Now show me what you got,” Harper challenged.
There was something going on with her. No one should be healing as quickly as Harper was. She was stronger too. Not wanting to press things though, Bucky just sighed as they both jumped into a fight stance, fists raised, ready to strike. They circled each other warily, sizing up their opponent and gauging if they could land any hit on them. Then Bucky threw a punch at Harper, who blocked it easily. She quickly retaliated with a kick to Bucky’s leg, causing him to stumble.
Harper followed that up by tackling him to the ground. She landed squarely on top of him, pinning his arms down underneath her. Bucky growled, trying to buck Harper off of him. She smirked and leaned in close to his ear. He froze instantly, his breathing labored.
She whispered, “Remember what happened last time we were like this? Remember how we nearly killed each other?” Bucky swallowed hard and nodded his head. A faint smile spread across her face, “Don’t worry, soldier… Bucky… This time is different,” she said softly.
Harper shifted her weight, so she was sitting astride Bucky’s hips, straddling his waist and allowing his arms to move freely once again. She saw something familiar in his eyes, something she had seen before when she was with the Winter Soldier. It was the same glimmer in his eye she remembered seeing each time he learned he would be working alongside her.
She knew it was wrong, but something in her heart pulled her forward. Something she had never felt before. That same pull grew stronger with every passing second until their lips met. Hard. Bucky responded by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.
After several minutes, they pulled apart. Both were panting slightly. Bucky rested his forehead against hers. He gently ran his fingers through her hair before resting his hands on her lower back. They stayed like that for a few moments until Harper finally broke the silence, “I’m sorry…” she muttered.
Bucky shook his head, “For what?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you…” she trailed off, sitting up on her knees still straddling Bucky’s hips.
Bucky smiled, “It’s alright.”
“No, Bucky,” she started. “I mean… we can’t…” she sighed softly, “It’s too dangerous.”
“What?” Bucky asked, confused.
Harper pushed herself off of him and stood up. “I’ve been walking this world alone for a long time, Bucky. It’s kept me safe all these years; I can’t risk doing something reckless like this.”
Bucky stood up, “I don’t understand, Harley.”
Harper turned to face him, “The last thing I need is someone getting hurt because I let my guard down,” she said firmly.
Bucky frowned, “Why don’t we just talk about this?” he suggested, brushing himself off.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky. It just isn’t possible,” she insisted.
Bucky stepped forward, putting his hands lightly on her waist, “Look, Harley, I understand… I really do. But you’re not alone anymore.”
She backed away from him, pulling out of his grasp. “Listen, soldier. I’m not staying. Once I can use my bow again, I’m gone,” she stated firmly. Harper sighed, shaking her head when she saw the disappointment in his eyes. “It’s safer this way… for everyone,” she finished quietly. With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Bucky in the gym alone.
Standing at the line at the archery range, Harper pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back. Taking aim, she released her hand, nailing the target perfectly in the center. Smiling, she placed another arrow to her string, lining up for another shot. The next arrow was much faster than the first and hit the target dead center again, just to the side of the first.
“Looks like someone’s back to themselves,” a voice said behind her.
Harper sighed and turned to face the man who had spoken. “Still not perfect, but I’ll get there.”
“How are you feeling?”
She shrugged, “Better than before. The shoulder still has some healing to do, but with as much damage as that arrow did, I guess that’s to be expected.”
“You going to tell me yet just how you managed to heal almost completely in just over two months?”
“I told you, Hawk, I don’t know.”
“That’s bullshit, Harley. Why won’t you just tell me the truth? What harm could it do?” he questioned.
Harper glared at him, “Why is it so important that you know?” she spat.
“Because you’re my sister, Harley,” Clint replied simply. “Here I am, trying to reach out to you, giving you a chance, and you just turn it into a fight.”
“You’re only bitching because you feel guilty, Hawk. I’m not stupid,” Harper retorted sharply.
Clint sighed, “Guilt or not; it doesn’t matter. I’m trying, Harley. Why can’t you?”
“Because I don’t need your pity, Clint. I needed my brother. I reached out to my brother. And you brushed me off like I was dust on your bow,” she hissed angrily.
Clint sighed, “I’m sorry, Harls. I should have listened… I shouldn’t have reacted so cold toward you when you first showed up. I’m sorry. Just -”
“Just stop, Hawk. Save your ‘sorry.’ I don’t need it. Not from you. Not from anyone,” Harper snapped harshly.
Clint flinched, “Alright,” he mumbled softly. “Then what do you want?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m healthy enough. I think I’m just going to go,” Harper answered.
“Go where?” Clint questioned.
“Back to work. Back to what I do best,” Harper answered.
Clint looked shocked, “You want to leave? To do what? Find the two people that tried to kill you? That’s suicide, Harley!”
“I have an advantage this time. I’ll be fine,” Harper assured him.
Her brother stared at her intently, studying her facial expression. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully before taking a deep breath. “The serum,” he murmured.
Harper gave him a quizzical look, “Excuse me?”
“The serum you were searching for. Fury told you where to find it, and you took it. Didn’t you?” Clint guessed. “That’s why you survived the attack. The serum was already trying to heal your wounds before Barnes ever found you.”
Harper nodded slowly; there was no sense lying to him. “Yes,” she agreed. “I injected a small dose before they ever found me. When Barnes brought me here, Fury found the vials in my bag and had Banner give me a second dose.”
“That explains it,” Clint nodded. “Listen, Harley. Why don’t we make a deal? One where we can both get what we want?”
“Like what?”
“Before you leave, give me two weeks. I’ll find the men that attacked you, and you have more time to heal and practice; get yourself back where you know you need to be,” Clint negotiated.
“Why?” she questioned. “Why help me now?”
“They are as much a threat to me as they are you. Not to mention, if you go at it alone and fail, they become a threat to my kids. They made us into what we are… so what do you say we end it the same way we started? Together.”
Harper hesitated before saying, “Fine. I guess we’ll see what happens,” she replied. “But only two weeks, Hawk. That’s it.”
Clint nodded, “Good enough for me,” he said with a smirk before heading towards the exit.
Two weeks had passed since Bucky found Harper clinging to life in Atlanta. One of the doctors helping to care for her in the tower felt that she was at the point that they could safely bring her out of the drug-induced coma. They began to lower the dose of the anesthetic she was being given in hopes of easing her awake slowly.
Though he had spent the better part of the last fourteen days by Harper’s side, Bucky was away on a short mission when they began the process of waking her. When he returned early the next morning, he rushed to the clinic and was thankful to see she was still asleep. Bruce was checking her vitals and I.V. medications when Bucky walked in. He froze for a moment when he saw Clint seated in a chair on the other side of Harper’s bed.
“Ah, Barnes, welcome back,” Bruce greeted. “She should be awake soon, so you’re just in time.”
Bucky looked over at Clint, who met his gaze. He could see the sadness in Clint’s eyes as if he was fighting with himself not to show it. Bucky swallowed thickly before walking over and taking a seat in an empty chair next to Harper. “Barton…” he began softly.
“I know,” Clint whispered before placing his hand gently on Harper’s. “She wouldn’t want to see me anyway. I just didn’t want her alone if she woke up before you got back.” He stood from his chair and began walking to the door.
“If you want to stay, then stay, Clint,” Bucky told him. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you first came to see her,” he said apologetically. “I know she is the only family you have left besides your kids, and-”
“Maybe by blood, Barnes, but Harley and I haven’t been family for a really long time,” Clint argued softly, opening the door of the room and walking out without another word.
Bruce watched him leave before turning back to Bucky, who was looking down at his hands before running them through his hair nervously. “He’ll come around. They both will,” Banner assured him. Bucky nodded but did not respond. Pulling out a book, he leaned back in his chair and began reading, trying to find some way to keep his mind off of everything that was going on.
Bucky was so lost in his book that he didn’t notice Harper had begun to stir ever so slightly. Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the light and surroundings. She gave a weak smile when she finally noticed who was in the room with her. “Well, hey there, soldier,” she said hoarsely.
Bucky looked up from his book, smiling slightly when he saw her awake. “Hey yourself, Angel,” he responded softly. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he closed his book and set it aside.
“I’ve been worse,” she joked, trying to laugh but instead wincing when pain flared through her body. “Where am I?” she questioned, confused.
“You’re at the Avengers’ Tower in New York,” he answered. “Try not to move too much yet. You’re banged up pretty good, and need to rest.”
“How’d I get here?” she questioned further. “The last thing I remember was being in a hotel room.”
“You were hurt pretty bad, Angel, and-”
“Please, soldier, call me Harley. Keep that Angel shit for work,” she cut him off.
Bucky hesitated slightly before nodding. “Alright… Harley,” he replied. “The short version, I guess, is that I found you in your hotel room in Atlanta. You were… in rough shape. You have a couple of gunshot wounds, some cuts, and scrapes, bruising, a couple of broken ribs, and an arrow wound to your right shoulder,” Bucky explained.
“Damn,” she muttered, trying to remember what happened. “How long have I been here?”
“About two weeks now.”
“Why’d you come looking for me?” Harley asked curiously.
“Honestly? I overheard Fury tell Clint that he was worried. He thought something had happened to you. Clint didn’t seem too concerned and said you could handle yourself. But you saved my life before, so, I don’t know, maybe I felt like I owed you one,” he shrugged.
“If Fury was involved, I can see how you knew what city to look at, but Atlanta isn’t exactly a small town. How’d you know where I was?”
Bucky chuckled a little, “I know you always stay in the most expensive hotel when you’re on a job. I also remembered the alias you used to use and took a shot. With a little white lie, I managed to get into your room. When I walked in, I saw you on the bed…” He hung his head as he finished his explanation.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For coming for me,” Harley added. “I know I’m not really worth saving, but thank you.”
“Youare worth it,” Bucky said firmly, meeting her gaze.
Harley smiled weakly, “You know that’s not true, soldier. You should know better than anyone.”
Bucky sighed deeply, knowing entirely too well why she felt the way she did. He also knew there was no winning the argument over the matter. “Do you know who did this to you?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I didn’t see their faces if that’s what you’re asking. But I know who sent them, and I have a pretty good idea of who the two men were that attacked me. And believe me, I am going to make them pay for this,” she swore, a fire burning behind her green eyes.
“Harley. We-”
“No, soldier,” she interrupted, causing him to fall silent. “This is my fight, mine, and I’m going to take care of it. They made the mistake of leaving me alive, and that mistake is going to cost them dearly,” she told him, determination burning behind her words.
“Harley, please. You don’t have to fight alone. You’re going to be out of action for a few months, at least. Let us help you,” he pleaded. “We can protect you.”
“No,” she shook her head adamantly. “I won’t allow you, or anyone, to put their life on the line for me. These people would give the Winter Soldier a run for his money alone, let alone as a team. I won’t let any of you risk yourselves for me,” she continued to argue.
The door to the room opened, pulling their attention away from the conversation. “Sorry to interrupt,” Bruce apologized sheepishly. “How are you feeling, Miss Barton?”
Harley offered a smile, “Been better. Been worse,” she joked.
Bruce smirked faintly, glad that she could still joke about all of this despite how badly she must feel. “There’s a couple of people who would like to see you, if you’re up for it, that is?”
She nodded, “Sure, why not.”
“I’ll go,” Bucky said quickly, standing from his chair. “I’ll come to check on you again later if you want?”
Despite the annoyance Harley was feeling at their argument moments ago, she found herself smiling at him as she spoke, “Yeah, alright.” He moved closer to the side of the bed and took her hand in his. Harley squeezed his hand lightly. “Thanks, soldier. For everything.”
“You’re welcome, Harley,” he answered quietly before grabbing his book off of the chair and leaving the room.
Once he was gone, Bruce turned to her. “Are you hungry?”
Harley nodded, “A little, yeah.”
“I’ll see what I can get for you,” Bruce said. “I’ll let Fury and Clint know that you’re awake, but to give you a little bit of time before they come to see you, okay?”
“That’s fine. Thank you,” Harper told Banner as he headed towards the door. As soon as he was gone, Harley laid back against her pillow. Her eyes drifted shut after a while as exhaustion started to weigh on her tired body.
Harley awoke again a few hours later to find her brother sitting next to her bed. “Hey,” she mumbled.
“Hey,” Clint said back softly. He reached out and brushed some of her hair away from her face. “How do you feel?”
“Like a semi-truck ran me over,” Harley replied with a slight chuckle that quickly turned to a groan.
“You look like it too.” Clint laughed.
“Thanks,” Harper said sarcastically. She sighed, trying to sit up but still unable to move much.
Clint watched as his sister struggled. He’d never seen her so helpless before. She was always the one taking care of him, always there to ensure he was safe. Now, when she had needed him most, he wasn’t there for her.
Harper could see in his eyes that he felt responsible. “I’ll be fine, Hawk. Really,” she tried to assure him. “I’ve been hurt before; this isn’t anything new.”
Clint looked at her sternly. “This is different, Harper Lee.”
“First, you know I hate when you use my full name. I’m not some kid in trouble, Hawk,” she scolded. “Second, how is this any different than any other time? I’ve been shot before, I’ve had bones broken before,” Harper tried to reason.
Clint just shook his head. “Not like this. This is different.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Clint paused. He took a deep breath. “Harley, you almost died. You needed blood transfusions and surgeries. You have so much morphine pumping through you that I’m surprised you feel any of the pain at all. For fuck sake, you were in a coma for two damn weeks. And now you’re trying to brush it off because your stupid, selfish ass can’t deal with being vulnerable.”
“You’re right,” she stated simply. “But you know what else? None of that is your fault, Clint. Not one thing that happened to me is anyone’s fault but my own. So why should I take the charity of you and your friends because of my own stupidity?”
“Harley-”
“No,” she cut him off. “I get it, Hawk. You’re my brother. You feel bad because it wasn’t you that jumped to my rescue. You blew me off, and now you feel responsible for what happened. But I am not a damsel in distress. I don’t need you, or your friends, to save me. I can take care of myself.” She glared at him. “I’m stronger than you think I am.”
“I know you’re strong, and I respect that. But damn it, Harley, you don’t have to be. If you had just told me you were in trouble instead of playing your bullshit games, I could have helped you.” He glared at her, willing her to understand what he was saying.
She stared at her brother. “It’s my fight, Hawk, not yours. This isn’t some back alley fight or a bunch of aliens from outer space. This is my life, and if I can’t handle it, then that’s my problem.”
“Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t about you or your bullshit jobs. This is about you getting hurt. This is about you almost dying for fuck sake!”
Harper rolled her eyes. “I’m. Fine. Hawk,” she snapped. Her tone was angry.
Before Clint could say anything, Director Fury walked into the room. “Barton, good to see you awake,” he greeted.
“I can only assume I owe you a thank you for saving my life?” Harper asked sarcastically.
Director Fury smirked slightly. “We’ll call it a personal courtesy,” he answered calmly. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, Barton. I know you need to rest. But I have to ask…”
“I know what you want, Fury. I didn’t see their faces, but I have a pretty good idea who it was. I’m not as worried about them as I am who sent them. If they found me in Georgia, I can only assume they found Scorpio.”
Director Fury nodded. “Don’t worry about that. They are safe,” he assured her.
Harper nodded. “Thank god.”
“We need to know who attacked you, though, Barton. We need to make sure that they won’t try to come after you here at the tower. It could put all of us at risk,” Fury continued.
“They think I’m dead, Fury. They won’t try to show up here as long as I lay low until I’m healed enough to fight again,” Harper stated.
Clint frowned. “And what if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not,” she glared at her brother.
“We can’t take that risk, Barton,” Fury insisted. “We need to know who targeted you.”
Harper shook her head. “Fury, this is all a personal vendetta. Against me, and you. They aren’t stupid enough to try to hit a S.H.I.E.L.D. location. That would be suicidal.”
Fury raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
“I did my research while I was figuring out their identity. Think about it, Nick. Who else do you think would involve Scorpio?”
He paused for a moment, hoping he was wrong. “Leviathan?” Fury questioned.
Harper glared at him. “Yes, Leviathan.”
“What are you two talking about?” Clint asked curiously.
“It is - well, it was, a Russian-based organization. They were similar to Hydra, but when they failed, the organization’s leader turned his efforts to destroying the other members of the Zodiac. I’m the last surviving member,” Fury explained.
“Then, who’s Scorpio?” Clint questioned.
“My son,” Fury replied simply. “It’s part of the reason I know your sister so well,” he continued.
Clint looked between the two, trying to decipher what they meant. “I don’t understand.”
“Fury and I met while I was enlisted. When I got out, he got me a job with the CIA working under him. But when he joined S.H.I.E.L.D., I left the agency and went rogue,” Harper answered. “He tried to recruit me, but I was making better money on my own. It didn’t seem worth it to give that up. So, instead, he gave me a job. No one knew about his kid, and he wanted to keep it that way, but Fury also wanted to ensure his son was kept safe. I still took on jobs for the highest bidder, but between jobs, I was with Marcus and his mother.”
“So, this Marcus, is Fury’s kid, andScorpio?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what mess Marcus got himself into or why he took up the moniker. I just know, I was contacted by Orion to take out Scorpio. As soon as I learned who it really was, I canceled the contract. Orion didn’t like that, so he sent people after me. The only two people that could actually pose a threat to me when teamed together.” Harper looked to her brother, her eyes pleading with him to understand.
“I thought they quit the game when they couldn’t kill me?” Clint asked, confused.
“They couldn’t kill you because you had help, Hawk. I don’t.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “But, now that they think I’m dead, it needs to stay that way until I can take care of things. If they know they failed, they will do what they can to get me out of hiding. That includes making a little trip to Missouri if they need to.” Harper’s words hit hard, causing Clint to realize exactly what his sister was suggesting.
“You’re not taking care of shit, Harley. This is far beyond anything you can handle alone. Not to mention the risk involved if you fail again. Screw your pride for once. You’re out of commission for a few months at least, so we’re helping whether you like it or not. This is no longer a personal problem for you, Harper Lee. It’s now an Avenger problem,” Clint spoke firmly, not letting her protest.
Harper sighed, knowing that arguing wouldn’t change her brother’s mind, but she hated that he was right. She’d be risking her life if she tried to go on alone. Harper knew this, she understood it, but… she still hated the idea of accepting help. She still wanted to prove to herself that she was stronger than she had ever believed she could be. She just wanted to prove to herself that she could do this, that she could defend herself against those who would attack her.
Clint left the room quickly before Harper could even agree with him. As soon as the door shut behind him, Fury spoke up again. “Are you going to tell them about the serum?”
“Clint is pissed enough. I think it’s best if I wait before I tell him,” she answered honestly. “He’s not ready to hear about it.”
“I think he deserves to know,” Fury responded. “They will all know something once they realize just how quickly you are healing.”
“Banner injected me with a second dose, didn’t he? Or at least a proper dose?”
“Your injuries were -”
“That’s a yes,” she sighed, cutting him off. “I appreciate it, Fury. All of this. I’m sorry it got to this point.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Barton. We share the blame on this one.”
Harper smiled ruefully at him. “Thanks for everything.”
“Anytime.” He nodded to her before turning and walking out of the room.
Harper leaned back against the pillows, running a hand slowly through her hair. God, she felt exhausted. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping the meds would help calm her thoughts and calm her nerves.
Bucky found himself in Atlanta the next afternoon. He knew enough about Harper that he hoped it wouldn’t take long to locate her. Opening the browser on his phone, he looked up the most expensive hotel in the area. Clicking on the number, he called the front desk.
“Hello, thank you for calling. How can we help you today?” a young female answered.
“I am looking for my wife, and I’m hoping you can tell me if she has checked out yet or not?” Bucky lied confidently.
“I would be happy to look for you, sir. Can I have the last name?”
“It should be under Samael,” he told the girl. It was the alias she had always used when working for Hydra, so it was worth trying now. “I’m not sure which first name she used, but it should be either Lilith or Freya.”
There was a pause, but he could hear the clicking of the keys as the girl typed on the computer. “It looks like she is still checked in and has the room booked for another couple of days, sir,” she informed him.
“Wonderful,” Bucky said, “Can you put me through to her room? She isn’t answering her cell phone, and I just want to make sure she is doing alright.”
“Of course, sir. Just one moment.”
After another brief pause, the phone began to ring. Bucky let the tone play through a few times and then hung up. Harper wasn’t answering, which could mean one of two things. Bucky could only hope that it meant she was out of the room, but he still had a bad feeling in his gut about this entire situation. Plugging the address into his phone’s GPS, Bucky made his way to the hotel.
He approached the front desk, where a young woman stood behind a large counter. “Hi, there,” he said, trying to appear friendly. “My wife is currently checked in here. I tried her cell phone and room phone, but there was no answer. Is there any way you can help me out?”
“Oh yes, you called for her not too long ago,” the clerk said. “Let me try calling her room since we don’t usually give out guest information. If she doesn’t answer, I will make an exception this once for you.”
“Ireally appreciate it,” Bucky smiled at her. He walked over to the seating area in the lobby and waited while she called up to the room.
The young clerk tried to call Harper’s room three times over twenty minutes before giving up and creating another key for the room. Placing it in the small sleeve with the room number, she walked around the counter to the lobby and approached Bucky. “I tried calling a few times, but there was no answer,” she explained, handing him the card. “Here is a key for the room. If you have any trouble, just let me know,” she smiled at him kindly.
“Thank you so much,” he told her.
She left the lobby and went back to work, leaving Bucky alone. He quickly made his way to the room, knocking on the door first, hoping that Harper might answer. When there was no response, he used the key and opened the door, thankful she didn’t lock it with the safety locks. Bucky stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind him, glancing around the room. He could tell immediately something was wrong.
Walking farther in, Bucky saw Harper laid out on the bed with blood staining the sheets. She was unmoving, and her breathing was shallow. Her skin was pale, and her usually bright blonde hair now had hints of a dull copper-red. She had been beaten pretty badly and was bleeding from multiple wounds all over her body.
Bucky’s heart ached. The Dark Angel was untouchable, just as he had been as the Winter Soldier. Seeing her so weak, so helpless, broke something in his heart that had never been touched before. He couldn’t help but kneel down beside the bed, tears pricking his eyes as he gently brushed a few strands of blonde hair away from her face. “Damn it, Angel,” he whispered with a sigh. “You’re going to be okay. I promise,” he murmured.
He stood back up, pulled out his phone, and took a seat in the chair at the small desk. Scrolling through the names in his contact list, he knew there was only one person he could call.
“What is it, Barnes?”
“It’s about the Dark Angel, Fury,” he replied.
“What about her?” the director asked.
“I found her, sir. And it’s not good.”
“Hang on a minute,” Fury responded. Bucky could hear shuffling on the other end for a few moments and then heard a door slam shut. “Where did you find her?” Fury finally spoke again.
“At a hotel in Atlanta,” he replied.
“Was she conscious when you found her?” the director questioned.
“No. She is unconscious, and her injuries are extensive.”
Fury groaned. “Is she breathing?”
“Yes, she’s alive, but barely. She is severely wounded, sir.”
“How serious are her injuries?”
“She was bleeding profusely, though it seems to have stopped for the time being, and has severe lacerations across her chest and abdomen. A wound straight through her shoulder, but I don’t know what from. She has bruises all over her as well. I don’t know what happened to her, but she’s in bad shape.”
Fury sighed. “Send me the location and room number. I’ll have someone come and collect her. Whatever you do, do not give them any information about who she is. Clean her up as best you can, and I’ll have a clean-up crew handle the room.”
“Understood, sir,” Bucky said, hanging up.
Setting his phone down, Bucky ran his hand over his face before standing and walking to the bathroom. He turned on the water at the sink, allowing it to warm up while he grabbed a couple of the small face towels. Wetting each and wringing them out, he shut off the water and walked back to the bed. Bucky gently began to wipe the dried blood off Harper’s exposed skin.
As he cleaned off her face, he heard a quiet groan escape her lips. Bucky froze. His heart was beating faster than usual as he looked at Harper. “Hey, Angel, stay with me, okay?” he whispered softly. Bucky placed his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around his palm. “I know you’re weak, but if you can hear me, please, try to squeeze my hand. Or twitch your fingers. Something,” he begged her.
Harper tried her best to close her hand around his, only able to curl her fingers a little. Her eyes flitted open briefly, and he felt a pang of hope. “You’re okay, Angel. I need you to keep fighting for me. We’re going to get you out of here and fixed up. I promise, okay?” Harper moaned again in response, squeezing his hand as best she could.
Once Bucky had gotten her as cleaned up as he could, he set about packing up all of her things. He picked up the room and ensured everything was where it needed to be. There was a knock at the door that took his attention. Approaching it carefully, he looked out the peephole to see a pair of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on the other side. Bucky opened the door and ushered them inside.
“We’re going to take her out the back door and directly into our van. She’ll be transported to the hangar, where we will be getting her onto a quinjet to fly her back to New York. Fury said you could fly back with her, if you want,” one of the agents explained to Bucky.
“Yeah, okay. What about clean-up in here?” Bucky asked.
“We have a team coming in. Just give us your room keys, and one of the agents will check her out once the room is clean,” he replied.
Bucky nodded at him and handed the man the two room keys. The agents thanked him, carefully picked up Harper, and walked out of the room. The second they were gone, Bucky grabbed her bag and made his way to the front of the hotel. He avoided the front desk and quickly got into his car to follow the van to the S.H.I.E.L.D. hangar.
Within two hours of Bucky calling Fury, he and Harper were back at the Avenger’s Tower safe. Bruce was hard at work figuring out just how extensive Harper’s injuries were. While he worked on the scans and tests, Bucky stayed by Harper’s side, watching the monitors, waiting for any answers Banner could give him.
Clint walked into the room while a nurse was cleaning up a few more wounds on Harper. “What happened, Barnes?” he asked, concerned.
“Why do you care?” Bucky asked him sharply, looking at him coldly.
“She’s my sister. Why wouldn’t I care about her?” Clint replied simply.
“You didn’t seem overly concerned when Fury told you he was worried something happened,” Bucky snapped. “What if I hadn’t overheard? Huh? What if I hadn’t flown down there to find her? If it had been left to you, she’d be dead, Barton!”
Clint put his hands up defensively. “Okay. Yeah. You’ve got a point. But she’s still my sister. We may not like each other, but I still love her,” Clint admitted quietly. Bucky stared at him for a moment in silence before turning away. “Do you know what happened?” Clint inquired after several minutes.
“No,” Bucky said bluntly, shaking his head slowly. “I took a shot in the dark that she still used the same alias, and I knew she only ever stayed at the most expensive hotels. By the time I got to her, she was unconscious and barely breathing.” Bucky paused for a long moment before continuing. “I called Fury, got her cleaned up as best I could, and we came back here. The doctor has her in a medically induced coma, but there’s no telling how bad things are yet.”
“Shit,” Clint muttered, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the monitors and frowned. After a few minutes of silence, Barton turned to leave. “If anything changes, let me know,” he called over his shoulder. Clint looked back at Bucky with a somber expression as he stepped through the door. “Thanks, Barnes,” he added, closing the door as he left.
Harper arrived in Atlanta and parked outside the house. It had been several years since she had last seen the mother and son that resided inside. The home was dark when she entered, but as soon as her footsteps fell upon the creaking floorboards, a form appeared in the hallway between the living room and where Harper needed to go.
“It’s been a while,” said the man who appeared before her.
“Marcus, now isn’t a good time,” she warned.
The man raised his left hand, aiming a gun at Harper’s heart. “Seems like that choice is up to me, not you.”
She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “I taught you everything you know, junior. But I didn’t teach you everything I know. Just let me do what I need to, and I’ll be gone.”
“Who sent you?” Marcus questioned.
“No one fucking sent me,” she scoffed. “I’m here to get something, that’s it.”
His finger slowly moved off the gun’s trigger, relaxing only slightly. “And just what would that be?”
“That’s my business, not yours.”
“So you’re not here for me? Or my mom?” he questioned.
“No. I’m not. You know damn well, if I was here for either of you, you’d both be dead already. I wouldn’t be standing here making small talk with you.”
He looked away from Harper, lowering the weapon and placing it back in its holster. “So why are you here?” he asked.
“The safe in the office. I just need to get something out of it. Then I’m going on my merry way,” she answered.
“How do you expect to get in? My mother has the key hidden, and neither of us knows the code.”
“I have the code, dumbass. Otherwise, I would have shown up when I knew your mother was here. Not when I thought the house was empty.” Harper took a few steps toward the hall where he stood. “Now, are you going to let me get what I came for? Or are you just going to cause a problem?”
Marcus stepped aside, allowing Harper to walk down the hallway to the office. “What’s in there that you need so badly?”
“Nothing you need to know about,” she stated. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to be quick. The longer I’m here, the greater the risk to you… and your mom.”
Marcus watched Harper until she disappeared around the corner and into the room. It wasn’t long before she reemerged, tucking something into the pocket of her jacket. She paused briefly at his side to pat his shoulder as she passed him. Once she reached the front door, Harper turned back to face the young man. “Listen, Marcus…” she started, locking eyes with him. “You’re like a brother to me, and you know full well I would never let harm come to you or your mother. I don’t know what kind of shit you got yourself caught up in. Hell, I don’t think I want to know. But promise me something, alright?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “I guess?” he replied, not sure of the question.
“Promise me you will reach out if it gets too bad? Your mom knows people to call. They can help protect you both.”
Marcus nodded his head, “I promise,” he assured her. “But what about you?”
“Keeping you two safe is the reason I can’t stay now, nor can I have contact with either of you until I know this threat is squashed. I know damn well that whoever you pissed off has someone tracking me, even if they’re doing a shit job of it. That’s why I have to get back to New York before they can find me here.”
He studied Harper’s face for another moment, trying to read some sort of emotion that he couldn’t see. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her words. She had always been cryptic, and he never really knew how much she meant by anything she said, but he could tell she meant everything this time. He trusted her. That’s what mattered most in this situation. “I understand,” Marcus told her. “Be careful.”
“Always am,” she assured him with a smirk as she walked out of the house.
It had been five days since Fury had seen Harper. He wasn’t expecting her to reach out once she had acquired the serum, but he had thought someone would have mentioned her visit. While sitting in his office, he decided to call once again.
“Hello?” a man answered.
“I’m looking for Nia,” Fury replied.
“Sure, just a second.”
Fury could hear some shuffling before a woman spoke up. “Hello?”
“Nia, has the Angel arrived yet?”
“She was here two days ago. As far as I knew, she was heading back your way. Why?” Nia asked.
“I haven’t heard from her. Not that I expected to, but what she said before she left has me wondering.”
“Nick…” her voice trailed off. He could hear the worry in her tone, though.
“I’ll figure it out. Just stay alert. When I know more, I’ll fill you in,” Fury told her, hanging up the phone without another word.
Fury sat there for a moment with a troubled look on his face. Things like this didn’t typically phase him, but knowing the people involved made this situation different. This was a possible threat to people he cared deeply for, not just friends and colleagues.
Standing from his desk, Nick walked out of his office and down to the archery range. He found Clint working with some recruits and called him into the empty hallway to speak with him. “It’s about your sister, Barton,” Fury began.
“What about her?”
“How much do you know about her life?” Fury questioned. Barton looked at Fury in confusion. “Let me put it this way,” he tried, “Before a couple of weeks ago, when was the last time you saw her?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Close to fifteen years. Why?”
“She was in my office last week, wanting that serum. She said there was someone after her,” Fury said.
Clint rolled his eyes, “There’s no one that could be a threat to her.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Barton. Someone, or something, has her spooked enough to seek me out.”
“Look, Fury, with all due respect, Harley has made more than her fair share of enemies through the years. I’m sure she is fine and just said what she felt she needed to say to get what she wanted,” Clint insisted.
As Clint and Fury continued their conversation about Harper, Bucky approached from a side hallway. Before he could turn the corner, he heard the two men talking. Stopping in his tracks, Bucky stood with his back against the wall and listened.
“Barton, your sister was last seen in Atlanta two days ago, and there has been no sign of her since. I’ve got a bad feeling that something happened to her,” Fury explained.
“And that makes it my problem how exactly?” Clint responded. “Just because she is my sister doesn’t mean I would go on some wild goose chase to find her because of some ‘bad feeling.’”
Fury sighed heavily; he couldn’t argue with that. “Look, I just want to make sure she’s okay. If she isn’t, then we might need to think about how to protect ourselves,” Fury reasoned.
The two men stared each other down for a few seconds before Clint turned around and headed back towards the range. “I’m sorry, Fury, but I can’t help you,” he said as the door shut behind him.
Bucky let out a breath and walked down the hall, back the way he had come. He knew the Angel, and he knew Fury. If something had the two of them worried, it wasn’t anything good. Bucky knew Clint wouldn’t do anything, not until it was too late anyway. Still… he couldn’t shake the idea that something terrible was going to happen, if it hadn’t already…
Fury opened the door to his office, flipping on the light as he stepped inside. He seemed unphased as the light revealed someone sitting in his chair at the desk. The stranger had their head tipped back and hands behind their head, eyes closed, and their feet kicked up on the desk with their ankles crossed.
“To what do I owe the visit?” Fury asked.
“I just have some questions… Director.”
“Those questions wouldn’t have anything to do with the files that you copied from S.H.I.E.L.D. servers, would they?” He stepped further into his office, closing the door behind him.
“They might.” The person lowered their feet to the floor and sat up in the chair.
Fury stood at the corner of his desk. “Then allow me to ask a question first,” he began. “Are we playing fair?”
“That entirely depends on you, Fury,” the visitor shrugged.
Nick took his weapon out of its holster and placed it in the center of his desk. The visitor stood, placed a knife on the desk and walked around to the other side, allowing Fury to take a seat in his chair. “What questions might you have, Barton?” he asked.
“I want to know where the vials from Project Gladiator are,” Harper answered.
Fury sat back in his chair. “You won’t find them,” he responded.
“You really believe that?” she challenged.
“I can assure you,” Fury answered, leaning forward onto his desk, “That no one can find those vials.”
“I think you underestimate me,” Harper stated flatly.
“What do you want them for?”
Harper smirked. “That’s my business.”
Fury sat up straight again. “It’s going to come out, either way, Barton.”
“Maybe,” she agreed, “But on my time, not yours.”
“So… you want it for yourself,” he reasoned.
“Never said anything to the contrary, did I?” She asked.
“No,” he confirmed. “But you know as well as I do that there are plenty of people who would love to get their hands on those vials.”
She took a seat opposite him, resting her arms on the desk with her hands clasped. “You’re right; there are. But none of them matter. I’m not doing this for the money. Now, we can either do this the simple way, and you just give me what I want. Or we can do this the fun way, for me anyway, and I take what I want. The choice is yours, Fury.”
Fury sighed, knowing that he couldn’t win an argument against her without giving something away. “Let’s be honest, Barton. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already have an idea of where the serum is. So you don’t actually need me to give you thatinformation.”
“Fair point,” she acknowledged.
“Why come then?”
The young woman smirked again, leaning back slightly. “Call it a professional courtesy,” Harper shrugged.
“I see,” Fury nodded. “Is that why no one has been hurt?”
“Yet…” she clarified. “No one has been hurt yet.”
Harper kept her eyes locked on Fury. She could tell he was trying to process all the information he had thus far. His eyebrows furrowed, thinking about how to proceed. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed, and his gaze became less serious. “Alright, Barton. Let’s make a deal.”
A smirk crept on her lips again. “What sort of deal?”
“Call it a personal courtesy,” he countered. “You get what you want, and no one gets hurt in the process.”
“What’s in it for you?” she asked.
“Answers, Barton. I want answers.”
Harper sat up in the chair, folding her arms over her chest. “How specific do these answers have to be?”
Fury looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Specific enough that I can justify what I’m agreeing to.”
She nodded in agreement. “Fine. But only out of respect.”
“Fair,” he replied. “Why do you want the serum?”
“Personal use,” Harper replied shortly.
“Personal for yourself?”
“Yes.”
Fury nodded, understanding. “What for?”
“Call it precautionary.”
“And why would you need any sort of safeguard?”
Harper sighed, “What are we doing, Fury? Playing twenty questions?”
“You could give me the short version if you’re in a hurry,” he offered.
Harper considered for a moment before responding. “Someone contacted me to take out a target. They wanted me to take down someone going by the name Scorpio. I took the job without question.” She watched Fury’s eyes widen slightly. He knew exactly who she had been sent after. “Once I found out this Scorpio’s real identity, I changed my mind. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t realize the reach the original contact had. Now… the hunter has become the hunted,” she explained.
Fury raised his eyebrows slightly. He had known Harper for many years and never knew her to be the one under attack.
Harper continued, “There’s not many that can do my job better than me, Nick. You know that better than most. I can’t take that risk this time around. Not without a safety net.”
Fury sat quietly for a moment. Then he nodded in agreement. “What happens next, Barton?”
Before she could answer, a knock on the office door interrupted them. A voice came through the door, “Director Fury?”
Fury looked towards the door. “Yes?”
Agent Hill opened the door, just enough to poke her head inside. “Sorry to interrupt, but they’re back, sir.”
Fury nodded, and Hill closed the door. He turned back to Harper, “Unless you want to see your brother again, I’d suggest heading out the same way you arrived.” He wrote some information on a piece of paper and handed it to Harper. “I’ll let her know to expect you.”
Harper took the paper and offered a respectful nod before standing up and quickly leaving the office. Fury sat in the silence for a while, taking in all the new information. He didn’t like the thought of Harper, or anyone, having those vials, but he was sure that he chose the lesser of two evils this time around. Besides, he owed her one for turning the job down. The least he could do was help her survive the consequences.
Fury stood from his chair and left his office, locking the door behind him. As he walked the halls toward the briefing room, his mind was racing with the possibilities of who could have Harper concerned enough to seek out his help, even if it was just to confirm what she already knew. And who had tried to hire her in the first place?
Fury walked into the large meeting room, took a seat at the head of the long table, and looked around at each team member seated around him. “So,” he began, “What did you find out?”
“Well, sir, I know who has been breaking into the different S.H.I.E.L.D. locations,” Clint spoke up first.
“And it is?”
“My sister, sir,” Clint answered.
“Do we know what she is looking for?”
“Not entirely. We know she wants information on something Laura worked on when she was with S.H.I.E.L.D., but aside from the name of the project, we have no idea what it is,” Clint said.
“She wants information on something called Project Gladiator, sir,” Steve added.
“It was a project intended to try to replicate the Super Soldier Serum. After some setbacks, Laura succeeded in not only making the Super Soldier Serum but a combination serum as well. Laura and I were the only ones that knew about that accomplishment,” Fury explained.
“What could she possibly want with that?” Natasha asked. “She seems to be going through a lot of trouble if she just wants it to sell to the highest bidder.”
Fury looked between the three Avengers, not wanting to reveal more than they needed to know. “I couldn’t say. Did she mention if she is working for anyone?”
“No. Not directly anyway. She mentioned something about a client, but there’s no telling with her if it was just empty words or not,” Clint replied.
“This isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it Barton? Possibly having to take down your sister?”
“No sir,” he assured. “She and I haven’t been on the best of terms in a very long time.”
“Good,” Fury stated. “Let’s keep our guard up then until we figure out exactly what her intentions are,” Fury instructed.
“Yes, sir,” the trio answered in unison.
Once Fury was back in his office, he locked the door and sat at his desk. After several minutes of debate with himself, he picked up the landline and dialed a phone number.
“Hello?” a woman answered cautiously.
“I’m sorry to call you like this,” Fury replied.
“Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m calling to tell you that the Dark Angel will be stopping by. Whether or not she’ll stop when you are at the house, I don’t know, but she is picking up something.”
The silence on the line lasted for what seemed like an eternity. “Are we still safe with her?” the woman finally asked.
Fury hesitated before answering. “I trust her,” he said.
A small sigh could be heard from the other end of the line. “That doesn’t answer the question?” she pressed.
“The Angel won’t do anything to hurt you, you know that. I’m sure she will make it a point to show up while you’re both away. She is taking something from the safe, and that’s all,” Fury told the woman.
“Okay,” she agreed. There was no arguing against him. The woman knew he would never lie to her. “Thank you.”
After hanging up, Fury stared down at the phone for a moment. I hope I’m not wrong.
Laura stood in the kitchen, quietly making dinner as she listened to the children play outside. She could see them from the small window above the sink as she washed a few dishes.
“Hello, Little Bird,” a voice spoke behind her.
She turned around quickly, coming face to face with a woman she hoped she would never see again. “What are you doing here?” Laura asked, feeling behind her for something to use as a weapon.
“No need to get hostile,” the woman said, putting her hands up in defense. “I just thought it would be nice to meet my niece and nephews, is all. Maybe see my sister-in-law again.”
“Harley… How did you find us?”
“I have my ways, Bird. You know that.” Harper took a seat at the small table in the kitchen. Her calm demeanor and honest eyes trying to ease the tension in the air.
Laura shook her head, turning back around to continue cooking though keeping her guard up just the same. “What do you want, Harley? I mean, what do you reallywant?”
Harper sighed heavily, looked down at the table, and then back up at Laura. “I told you, I just want to meet the kids,” she answered sincerely.
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it,” Laura stated calmly, turning her head to try to get a read on the woman sitting at her table.
“I promise,” Harper insisted. “Look, my niece and nephew are teenagers, not to mention your third kid is damn close to starting school, if not enrolled already, and I’ve never met any of them. I haven’t had any family in a long time. I want to change that,” she explained.
“I… I can never tell when you’re lying to me, Harley. But fine, you can stay for now. Just know, if you so much as look at one of my kids wrong, I will end you.”
“Of course, momma bear,” Harley agreed with a smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Laura shot her a quick glare before opening the small window and calling for the kids to come inside. They entered moments later, each wearing a confused look on their faces as they spotted the stranger in their home. “Kids, I’d like you all to meet someone,” Laura began, motioning towards Harley. “This is Harper Lee. She is…” Laura paused, thinking of how to explain this.
“I’m your aunt,” Harley cut in.
“Why have we never heard of you before?” the oldest boy asked.
“It’s a long story,” Harley answered. “But, I’m here now, so what do you say we start off on the right foot, huh?”
“And how do you expect to do that?” he asked.
“Well, first, why don’t you tell me your names?”
He let out a sigh, “I’m Cooper.” He gestured to his sister, “This is Lila. And our brother is Nate,” he finished, gesturing to the last child in the room.
“You can call me Harley. It’s nice to meet all of you finally,” she smiled at the three children.
Laura watched as they interacted briefly, never taking her eyes off Harper. “Why don’t you guys go wash up for dinner?” Laura suggested softly. The children nodded happily, walking off to wash their hands.
Once the children were out of earshot, Laura turned to Harley, “I don’t know what game you’re playing. But don’t act like their friend, if you intend to abandon them, because-”
Harley held her hand up, “I’m not going to do anything to them. Believe it or not, Laura, I’m not the heartless monster you and my brother seem to think I am.”
The five of them all sat around the larger table in the dining room, quietly enjoying a meal together. The kids talked about school and sports, and Harper answered some innocent questions about herself.
Once dinner was over, Harper helped to clean up the dishes and even helped the older two kids with their homework. Laura was surprised, she had expected something terrible to happen, but Harley kept to her word so far.
After the kids did their homework and put everything away from dinner, Harper decided it was the right time for her to head out for the night. “I should be heading back to my hotel,” she said.
“Do you have to?” Lila asked.
“I’ve put enough stress on your mom today,” Harper replied. “But don’t worry, I’ll come back tomorrow to visit again.” She looked up at Laura, who was still cautiously watching her former sister-in-law interact with her kids. “As long as that’s okay?”
Laura looked at her kids, who were all waiting patiently to hear an answer. Finally, she nodded. “I guess that would be alright,” she finally answered.
Harper smiled at Laura and gave each of the kids a hug before leaving the house. This is easier than I thought it would be, Harper thought to herself as she got in her car, waving goodbye to the kids as she drove off.
Harper arrived at the farm a little before the kids were due home from school the next day. She knocked on the door, waiting until Laura answered it. “Hey,” she greeted, “I figured if I came by early, I could maybe help you with some things before they get home.”
Laura looked at her skeptically. “Help me? Why would I want your help?”
“I told you yesterday. I’m not the monster you think I am. I’ve changed, Bird,” Harper stated as she followed Laura into the house.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you, Harley.”
“Believe me or don’t, it doesn’t matter to me,” she shrugged.
The two women set to work in silence - picking things up around the house, sweeping, mopping, washing dishes, regular everyday tasks that Harley hadn’t done in a very long time. With the help, Laura got dinner going and finished before the kids ever arrived home.
They all ate dinner together later that evening, chatting idly. The kids took turns talking about their day, telling stories, and making jokes. As Harley watched the kids, a small smile formed on her face as she listened to them talk.
Once everyone had finished eating and had cleared the table, the kids went to work on their homework while Laura and Harley cleaned up the dishes. With everything finished early and the sun still out, Harley suggested they all spend some time outside. “I know I just kind of showed up yesterday, but I brought a gift for each of you kids today,” she said.
“A gift? Really, Harley, you… you didn’t need to bring anything,” Laura said hesitantly.
“Yes, I did,” she replied. “I wanted to. They’re in the car, come on,” Harper urged.
The kids hopped up and ran off outside, following Harley to her car. Laura trailed behind slowly, not wanting to ruin a moment for the four of them but always skeptical of Harley.
After opening the trunk of the car, Harper pulled out a large bow and a quiver, “This set is for you,” she said, handing it to Cooper. She pulled out another set with a slightly smaller bow, giving it to Lila. Nathaniel stepped forward, looking into the trunk next to his aunt. “Don’t worry, little man, I got one for you too,” she said, pulling out a small plastic toy bow with a small quiver holding plastic suction cup arrows. Harper couldn’t help but chuckle a little as the little boy squealed with excitement.
“Really, Harley, you shouldn’t have,” Laura said, trying to sound grateful but failing miserably.
Harper walked over to Laura, “The arrows all have plastic tips so that no one can get hurt. Clint and I started when we were barely older than Nate is now. Besides, this is the only thing I know. Might as well keep the skill in the family, right?” she joked gently.
Laura didn’t reply but instead smiled weakly. “Alright then, I suppose I’ll allow it.” She turned away from Harper and headed back to the house, leaving the kids with their aunt and new gifts. Once inside and out of earshot of Harper, Laura took out her cell phone and called Clint.
Clint answered by the second ring. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked.
“Hey, are you busy?” Laura asked.
“No. No. Just going over some files, but it’s fine. Is everything okay?”
“I think so,” she said. “You just didn’t tell me that your sister would be stopping by the farm.”
“What?” Clint questioned, worry filling his tone.
“Well, I assumed you told her where we were…” Laura began, suddenly even more concerned than she had been the last two days. “But from the sounds of it, you had no idea.”
“Did she say what she wants?” he asked.
Laura paused briefly, glancing out a nearby window to see Harper showing Nate how to hold his little bow. “She showed up yesterday and said she wanted to meet the kids.”
Clint’s heart dropped. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered quietly.
“What does she really want, Clint?” Laura asked softly.
Clint stayed silent for a moment. “I don’t know, Laura,” he admitted.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Laura asked. “Do you think she’s safe around the kids? I mean, so far, she seems like an entirely different Harley, but I can never tell with her.”
Clint sighed heavily. “It’s not the kids I’m worried about. She won’t hurt them, that much I know. She wants something from you, Laura.”
“What do you mean?”
“Harley targeted S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities all down the east coast. She took any file that so much as mentioned your name. We don’t know what she is after or what she is doing. But you know my sister. If she’s going through all this trouble, it’s nothing good,” he explained.
“Has she hurt anyone?” Laura asked.
“No.”
“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?!” she yelled into the phone.
“I’m sorry. I thought we could handle it,” Clint tried to explain.
“Handle what? Your sister? Are you kidding me, Clint?!” she snapped.
“Look, we’ll be there tomorrow, and I’ll take care of it. Okay?” Clint pleaded.
Laura relented. “Okay. I trust you,” she said, sighing heavily as she ended the call.
She hung up her cell phone, throwing it onto the couch beside her. Laura sat on the sofa and rubbed her hands down her face in frustration. “Damn it,” she cursed, running her fingers through her hair. “I knew it was too good to be true…” she mumbled under her breath.
The elevator chimed, and Clint stepped out into the main room of the Avengers’ tower. The others had already arrived and were sitting on the various sofas and chairs around the center of the room. He could hear Tony throwing a fit, complaining about something, and arguing with the others.
“If nothing was taken or destroyed, I don’t see what the issue is, Stark,” Bucky stated.
“Because I don’t like knowing someone was going through my shit, Barnes, that’s what!”
“What’s going on?” Clint asked as he approached the group.
“Someone managed to get into the tower last night,” Steve told him.
“Shit,” Clint said softly. “Any idea who it was?”
“They left this,” Natasha slid a piece of paper across the table toward him.
“Damn it,” he said under his breath, looking at the same symbol he had seen in the photographs.
“Have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class, Barton?” Tony questioned, seeing Clint’s expression.
Looking up and seeing everyone staring at him, Clint placed the file he held on the table. “Um, well,” he began, taking a few of the pictures out and spreading them out. “It’s the same symbol that was left at every S.H.I.E.L.D. location that’s been hit,” he explained.
“Do you have any idea what it means?” Sam asked.
Clint leaned back in the chair he had taken a seat in, running a hand over his face. “Yeah,” he began, “Unfortunately, I do.”
The team sat in silence for a few minutes, expecting Clint to continue, but he never did. “Well? What does it mean?” Tony pressed.
Barton looked at each person in turn, taking in their expressions. “It’s-”
Before he could tell them anything, the lights flickered and went out. The room was plunged into darkness, save for the dim glow of the cityscape below filtering in through the window wall, though it wasn’t enough to make out anything of importance. They all stared at one another, not quite sure of what had happened.
“Fuck,” Clint muttered under his breath.
“What’s going on, Tony?” Steve asked.
“I don’t know, Rogers,” he replied. “But maybe Barton could give us some insight?”
“Well, well, well,” a voice spoke from the shadows. “Am I disturbing your little party here? My apologies, I guess my invitation got lost.”
Most of the team stood quickly, taking up a stance ready to fight. Barton, on the other hand, remained in his seat. He knew where this was headed.
“Who are you?” Steve called out.
“Depends who you ask. Some will say I’m an angel, sweet as can be. Others? They say I’m a devil,” the intruder responded. “I’ve been called a misfit, a schemer,” the stranger laughed a little. “I’ve even been called a traitor,” she snarled.
“Who are you?” Steve repeated.
“Why don’t we find out together?” the voice responded, still hiding.
“Or you could just tell us,” Tony quipped. “Save us all a lot of time.”
“Oh, I don’t mind wasting time,” came the response, though it sounded as if they had moved.
Everyone went quiet for a moment, looking around the darkness to try to figure out where the intruder had gone. After a minute or two, the sound of footsteps moving against metal drew everyone’s attention to one particular spot.
“Why does it always have to be a game?!” Clint called out. He could hear the person walking on the walkway above where the team stood. “Just tell us what you want. I know who you’re looking for, and I promise you won’t find a damn thing in the files you’ve taken.”
“Oh, Hawky. I don’t need the files for that. My client, on the other hand, will have a field day with some of the stuff I found,” she answered.
“Clint?” Steve looked at the archer, “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
Clint looked at everyone through the pitch black, knowing they were all staring back at him. He couldn’t read their facial expressions, but he could tell they were waiting patiently for an answer. Before he could give one, though, the lights flickered back on and revealed the stranger standing on the platform overhead.
She was dressed in black, with gold accents, a quiver of arrows on her back. She had already lowered her hood; her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
“I know you,” Bucky spoke up. “You’re the Dark Angel.”
Steve turned to look at Bucky. “Who?” he asked, confusion evident in his tone.
“She’s known as the Dark Angel, at least to Hydra. She’s an angel of death.”
“Come again?” Tony looked at Bucky in disbelief.
“An angel of death? Arguably the best assassin around. Never misses a shot, never leaves a target alive,” Bucky continued, ignoring the shocked looks on the faces of everyone else in the room.
Tony was speechless, unable to form a coherent sentence. “How… How do you…”
“We worked together on certain… jobs,” he explained before Tony could finish his thought.
“Good,” she finally spoke again, “Now, you all know me, and I, of course, know you. So what do you say we-”
“No,” Clint cut her off, “No games. I’m done with the damn games.” Finally standing from the chair, Clint walked forward and stood in front of the team, looking up at the woman. “You owe me an explanation.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” she snapped in reply.
“You break into S.H.I.E.L.D. locations, leaving that damn symbol in the debris. Then you hack into Stark’s security just to leave another damn note behind. Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.
“If it was obvious, I wouldn’t be wanting to hear it from you,” Clint growled out.
“Fine,” she shrugged. “Stark’s security? Was just a fun challenge. Proved to myself I could do it, though, huh?” she chuckled. “As for the little ‘notes’ I left behind? I knew you’d see them. I gave you a chance, Hawk. Before anything happened, I gave you a chance. But you couldn’t be bothered. So, now I do it my way,” she explained.
“What is she talking about, Barton?” Tony demanded. “Who the hell is she?”
“She’s his sister,” Nat answered before Clint could try to skate around it again.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right,” Tony started. “You wanna run that by me again, please?”
“Nat’s right,” Clint admitted, nodding in the woman’s direction. “She’s my sister. And that symbol she left behind everywhere is one we made a long time ago when we were kids. A way for the two of us to communicate, let the other know we were alright without speaking… and eventually without even seeing each other,” he explained. “The circle? It’s a halo for her. The whole angel bit is one she had long before she went rogue. The arrow is for me.”
Harper watched the team as they looked at Clint in disbelief. “But why would she leave it at each location?” Sam asked.
“She was telling me it was her doing the damage. We aren’t exactly on the best of terms,” Barton admitted.
“What does she mean that she gave you a chance?” Steve questioned.
Clint sighed, “She stopped at my house before she ever hit the headquarters in D.C.”
Harper couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. "You know,” she spoke up, “I just came to say hello, knowing you all would be here. But watching you turn on my dear baby brother? Is so much better.”
Steve stepped forward, narrowing his eyes as he glared up at the woman in front of him. “No one is turning on anyone.”
“No offense, Cap, but you don’t seem very intimidating,” the woman stated. “I mean, you play frisbee, that’s it. And your archer there can’t even hit me. What makes you think any of the rest of you would even stand a chance?” She smirked at the team, clearly enjoying herself.
“What do you want, Harper Lee?” Clint asked. “Just tell me what the hell you want so we can be done with this,” his tone almost begging.
“What do I want? Well, see, I already got all I needed from S.H.I.E.L.D.. So now? Now, I want to go visit some family that I haven’t seen in quite a while, baby brother.” She looked down at Clint with a smile.
“You don’t even know where they are, Harley,” Clint replied coldly.
“Of course I do. I know everything, brother,” she grinned again. “I really should be going, though. Got lots of things to do, places to be.” She laughed as the lights flicked, causing the room to go dark yet again. “See you later, Hawk!”
When the lights came back on moments later, she was gone. The team stood in silence for several minutes, trying to comprehend what had just happened. “You have some explaining to do, Barton,” Tony finally spoke up.
“Yeah,” Clint mumbled in agreement. “I guess I do.” He took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
The team sat around in silence for a while, deciding the best way to approach the situation at hand. As usual, Tony was the first to break it. “Alright, I’ll say it. What the hell, Barton?”
“Look, I know,” Clint replied. “I’m sorry, alright?”
“Why didn’t you tell us you had a sister?” Steve asked.
“Didn’t seem relevant, I guess,” he shrugged. “It’s not like we’re close. Until Harley showed up at my house, I hadn’t spoken to her in years. Like I said, we’re not exactly on the best of terms,” he explained.
“Why not?” Thor questioned.
“Harper Lee… Harley and I fell out when we were younger. We had different paths we wanted to take. She’s resented me ever since,” Clint answered.
“There has to be more to it than that, Barton. She’s your sister,” Bruce stated.
Clint sighed and said, “She got jealous… when we were teenagers. Our mentor chose me over her, and she hated him for it. But she never forgave me for going along with his choice,” he explained.
The team listened intently to his explanation, but Steve was the one who spoke next. “You two were kids, and he made a choice, not you. So, why would she be upset about that?” he questioned.
“Because she was better. And we all knew it.”
“Better how?” Natasha asked.
“From the get-go, there wasn’t a shot Harley couldn’t make. It wasn’t just archery either, give her any weapon, and she could wield it like a pro.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “But she was fed up with the life we had. She wanted something more, something better. So, Harley got her G.E.D. and joined the Army for a short stint.” Clint sighed heavily but continued with his story. “At one point, I thought she was dead. Learned that was a load of shit when Nat and I stumbled on her working with Hydra almost fifteen years ago.”
“So she decided to join Hydra to get back at you, for shit that happened when you were kids? That doesn’t exactly make sense, Barton,” Tony shook his head.
“Nothing she does makes sense, Stark. It’s always a game to her. If it made sense, it wouldn’t be Harley,” Clint rolled his eyes.
“She doesn’t work for Hydra, Stark,” Bucky spoke up.
“What do you mean? You’re the one that said you two worked together,” Tony turned to him.
Bucky nodded, “Yeah, we did.”
“Then how can she not work for Hydra?” He questioned.
“The Dark Angel is a freelance assassin. She’d work for S.H.I.E.L.D. if they paid her enough,” Bucky explained. “They would hire her for certain jobs, but she isn’t solely Hydra.”
“Why not?” Tony questioned.
“Because she has no interest in staying in one place. Like she used to say, ‘an angel of death goes where they are needed,’” Bucky answered with a shrug.
“So she just wants to kill people?” Steve asked.
Bucky sighed. “Not just anybody. She only takes jobs that she agrees with.”
“Look, this isn’t helping a damn thing!” Clint exclaimed. “What my sister has done before has nothing to do with right now.”
Tony let out an annoyed huff. “Fine. So what do we do about it then? What is her plan? Do you happen to have any insight on that, at least?”
“If I knew what she was planning, I would have stopped her, Stark,” Clint bit back, annoyed. “All I know is what Nat discovered,” he added, nodding in Natasha’s direction.
“And that is?” Bruce asked.
“The agent files that she took all have some connection to Clint’s ex-wife, Laura. She was an agent with S.H.I.E.L.D. several years ago and worked on a few projects. But she retired when she and Clint got married,” she explained.
“Do you think she’s looking for something to do with her?” Steve asked.
“Yeah. But what, I don’t know,” Clint sighed.
“What projects did your wife work on that would be of any interest to your sister?” Tony inquired.
“Ex-wife,” Clint clarified before shrugging, “And I don’t know. We never talked about work stuff.”
“You don’t think she’d actually try to find Laura, do you?” Natasha asked.
“There’s no way she could. I don’t have her information saved anywhere, and S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t have her information anywhere either. For her safety and the kids.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration yet again.
“Maybe, but there’s no telling how long your sister has been planning this. Especially since we don’t know what she is planning,” Bucky pointed out.
Three days had passed since Fury had informed the team of the attacks on the S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities. Whoever was doing the damage seemed to have taken a break from their efforts.
Clint had kept to himself for the most part since finding the symbol in the photographs Fury had given him. Barton hadn’t mentioned to anyone what he discovered, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong about what he saw.
By day four, Natasha was getting a little concerned. She found Barton in his small office, still staring at one of the photos. Walking in, Nat closed the door behind her and quickly took a seat at the desk opposite Clint. “Alright, spill,” she said flatly.
“What?”
“You have been unusually quiet the last few days, holed up in this office that you never use, and you’ve done almost nothing except stare at these pictures. There’s nothing there, Clint.”
“I really want that to be true, Nat. But…”
“But nothing. Just tell me what is going on with you and what is so bothersome in those photos that you won’t even talk about it. You know that you can talk to me about anything.”
Clint looked up at Natasha, taking in the sincerity and care she tried so hard to show in her eyes. He pushed the picture across his desk to her. “Look. Look close. Tell me what you see.”
She glanced at the image in front of her, shaking her head, “I’ve seen all of them. There’s nothing there, Clint,” Nat repeated.
“It’s not something that’s going to stand out. It’s not a drawing or an item left behind. Look at the mess, look at the detail, Natasha,” he pressed.
Nat sighed and picked up the photo, her eyes scanning it for any small detail she could make sense of. Clint watched her face as she stared at it. Natasha frowned, “There is nothing here, Clint, I don’t understand -” she started. Before she could finish, her mouth dropped open slightly, and her eyes went wide.
Clint couldn’t help but smirk a little, an ‘I told you so’ look forming on his features. “Found it, didn’t you?”
“It’s been years, Barton. It can’t be…” Nat trailed off as she shook her head, “This isn’t possible.”
“Those shapes aren’t made by accident, Natasha. It’s there for me.” Clint sighed, leaning back in his chair.
Nat sat up, leaving the picture on the desk. “So what are you going to do? You know you can’t handle this alone.”
“That’s just it… I don’t know what to do,” Clint groaned, running his hand through his hair, his mind racing.
“Why not tell Fury? Maybe -”
“Because,” he cut her off, “This is myproblem.”
“Not anymore, it’s not,” Natasha argued. “Those are S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, S.H.I.E.L.D. academies. This stopped being your problem after that first building was hit, Clint.”
“Yeah… Well…” Clint grumbled, knowing Natasha was right. “Look, just don’t say anything yet, okay? Give me two more days. If I don’t have a plan by then, I’ll talk to Fury,” he tried to reason.
“Fine. You have forty-eight hours. Then I make it everyone’s problem,” Nat agreed.
He could tell she wasn’t happy about it by how she walked out of the room. “Nat,” he called before she could close the office door. She looked back inside briefly. “Thank you,” Clint muttered.
She nodded once, closing the door behind her.
The next evening, Clint sat at home wracking his brain to figure out how he would talk to Fury and the rest of the team. At this point, he had no real choice in the matter. He had to tell them something, at least.
There wasn’t a single other clue left behind to point Barton to what the assailant’s next move might be. There was nothing to say what they were looking for, where they would hit next, or even if they would hit another location. The only thing left for Clint to do was try and come up with a plausible excuse for his lack of response.
Clint stood up from his reclining position on the couch. He pulled his phone from his pocket. Typing out a message for everyone to meet at the tower the next evening, Barton sent it before he could think twice about it. Making his way to the kitchen, he found a glass and poured himself a drink. He sat down, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, staring at the golden liquid before him. How the hell am I going to explain this to everyone?
Taking a sip of his drink, he felt the liquid burning his throat when a soft knock on the door caused him to jump slightly. Looking over at the clock, he noticed it was nearly midnight. He sighed, standing up and walking towards the door. His footsteps echoed loudly in the silence of the night.
Opening the door, he let out a breath of relief to see Natasha standing on the doorstep. He stepped aside, allowing her entry into the living room. Closing the door behind him, Clint turned to watch her walk to the center of the room. “What is so important it couldn’t wait?” he asked, almost annoyed.
“We need to talk. Now.” Nat looked at him, worry etched on her face, something Clint never saw often from her.
“About? We talked about everything yesterday,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow as he walked back to his drink, trying to sound unimpressed.
“I was going over the files that the assailant took. Only, they weren’t taken. They were just copied and then hidden in the systems. The agents’ files, Clint. The former agents’ files that they took? It’s all information on someone specific,” Natasha explained.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Natasha paused, thinking about just how she should tell Clint. Finally deciding on just being straightforward, “Clint, it’s all information on Laura.”
Clint froze mid-step as a sudden wave of dread washed over him. The words hit him like a truck. “No,” he muttered. “No, there’s nothing on her file anymore. There’s nothing -”
“All her past work is still in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database, Barton. It’s just the current events since her retirement that S.H.I.E.L.D. kept off the record.”
Clint took another step, feeling numb and hollow. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. “You’re sure?” he choked out, unable to speak.
Natasha nodded, “Anything with even a mention of her was copied from the different locations. The stuff on other agents was either somehow connected to her or was copied as a shit attempt at a cover.”
"Damn it,” Clint cursed, “Fuck. This doesn’t make any sense,” he mumbled as he ran a hand over his face. There was no denying things now. He had to tell Fury, and the team, everything.
Warnings:Slight language, moderate angst, vague descriptions of torture, etc.
Summary:He doesn’t know what it says about him, that one of his most cherished memories of her also happens to be one of his saddest. What he does know is that it doesn’t change a goddamn thing.
A/N:Are we on a roll or what?? Sorry this one tool a few days, I was wrestling with a few different styles of executions on the time jumps and things, but I think I finally figured it out! Also, can you spot our mystery guest character? As always, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Feel free to shout me out if you have any questions, comments, or just sweet words you wanna share :)
“Let me ask you this,” Raynor prefaces, folding her hands in her lap.
Bucky doesn’t even try not to roll his eyes, sinking further down into the green velvet armchair. He hates when Raynor starts out with that phrase, acts like she’s giving him the option to decline to answer when he knows that, really, if he doesn’t say anything she’ll start up with that notebook bullshit again. There’s nowhere he can go, nothing he can do to sidestep, avoid it. Even if he manages to change the subject, they’ll come right back to this one in the next thirty or so seconds.
He’s stuck, and Raynor knows it.
“Come on, Doc,” Bucky sighs, doing his best not to look cagey. “You’ve got me waiting with baited breath here.”
He doesn’t know what she’s about to ask, but he’s got a feeling he’s familiar with the subject matter. Bucky kind of hates it, but he knows he’s got no one to blame aside from himself. His karma, he guesses, for caving in so easily two days before during their Monday session. There’d been a reason he always held back from talking about the summer, talking about her. Stewing in misery in the privacy of his mind is easy, manageable. Something he knows like the back of his hand. But now that Raynor’s started him talking, he’s in murky, undefined, uncharted territory.
And if there’s one thing he really, truly hates, it’s going places he’s not at all familiar with.
Raynor clears her throat, breaking Bucky out of his reverie. When he looks to her face, he finds her staring back at him. “Where did you go just now?”
“Nowhere,” Bucky responds smoothly, giving a single shake of his head. He’s not sure why he even bothers trying; knowing Raynor, he could spend time reassuring her until he was blue in the face, and she’d still only continue her expectant staring. So, he gives up before she has the chance to chastise him. “My head. I was thinking.”
“About…?” Raynor prompts, tone cool and casual. It’s nearly enough to make him jump to his feet and shake his fists angrily in the air.
“How I’d rather not answer the question you’re about to ask,” he answers truthfully.
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“And I don’t need to,” Bucky goes on, shaking his head and glancing up to the bright lights of the ceiling. He stares long and hard at them, until violent spots of color begin dancing in his vision. He wonders if he’ll go blind, if he stares long enough, or if the super soldier serum would rob him of that kindness the same way it denies him the mercy of getting drunk. So eventually he gives up, and lets his eyes fall back down to Raynor’s face. “It’s about her, isn’t it? This is why I didn’t want to talk about her. Because I knew as soon as I brought her up, this would happen.”
Raynor arches a brow, eyes squinting in confusion. It looks sincere enough, Bucky guesses, but that does nothing to dispel the defensiveness steadily mounting in his chest. “What would happen, James?”
“This,” Bucky snaps, left hand tightening so hard on the velvet chair’s arm that he feels wood crunch in his grip. Shit. He’s going to have to pay for that. “This walk down memory lane that you’ve been concocting since you found out about her! You made me start talking about her, and all of a sudden she’s the only thing I can think about! Do you know what that feels like? To have all of these memories of someone you used to love just flooding your mind and having to know that you can never hold that person again? And not because they’ve died in some terrible accident, or because they kicked you to the curb and didn’t want you anymore, but because you were literally plucked out of your life and redesigned into a killing machine?”
He’s yelling, by the time he finishes that last sentence. He doesn’t even realize it until he hears his own voice ringing in his ears, feels the strain of the volume scratching at his vocal cords.
Oh, damn it.
Raynor hardly even blinks, not that Bucky finds this at all surprising. In her line of work, both during and after her military service, she’ll have had to build up a tolerance to soldiers hanging on by their last thread yelling at her for no especially good reason. Not that the thought does anything to make Bucky feel like less of an ass.
“No, James,” she murmurs softly, offering the slightest shake of her head. “I’m not sure anyone but you would know exactly what that feels like.”
And he doesn’t need her to tell him that, not really. It’s only the same thought he has each and every night when he lays down to try and fall asleep, though he usually doesn’t find much success. It’s the same thing that echoes in his mind when he sees happy couples walking along the streets, hand in hand and over the moon in love with one another. The same thing he knows when he goes out of his way to avoid children when he passes them in the street, despite the fact that he’d once been very fond of the idea of having a gaggle of his own.
He might have Sam now –– the one friend the world’s left to him, though he continues keeping him at arms length. He’d had Steve, up until recently.
But he lives here, in the city, alone. He wakes in the morning alone. He falls asleep alone. He goes about his life alone.
Bucky doesn’t need to hear Raynor say it, because he already knows.
“James, I can tell this is a sensitive subject for you, and I don’t want to push you,” Raynor sighs gently. Letting him know, in her own silent way, that she won’t be holding the outburst against him. He wants to thank her, but she goes on speaking before he can open his mouth. “Not past a certain point. But you know as well as I do that when you’re in mourning, it can be helpful to talk about the happy memories you shared with the person you lost. Cathartic, even.”
Bucky might have agreed, if he’d actually lost anyone. That was the irony of this whole situation, wasn’t it? The great, big joke the universe set in motion the day he shipped out on the draft? He’d never lost anyone. Not his mother, not any one of his three sisters, not… not her. No, they’d all lost him, yet somehow he’s the only one left still standing. None of them knew that he was still here, still breathing, still around to miss them, feel the pain of their absence. That he had been feeling the pain of their absence while locked in a prison made from his own mind for the last seven decades.
Not that knowing could have brought them any comfort.
Raynor allows him to sit in silence for a few moments, affording him the chance to collect his thoughts and find his composure again. He’s thankful for that, too. It isn’t often that he breaks, which she knows on account of the mandated three days a week she spends counselling him. Offering him the opportunity to collect himself is a special kindness all its own.
She taps her thumb against her wrist ten times before opening her mouth and trying again.
“You said something just now that caught my attention,” Raynor states, leveling him with a patiently cautious look. “And I’ve got a question, James, but you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. I understand if speaking about her is too hard for you right now. We can always come back to it.”
Bucky sighs, resignation digging its hooks deep into his skin. “I’m getting the sense that there’s a ‘but’ coming up.”
“But,” Raynor goes on, not even blinking at the snark which, ordinarily, would have earned Bucky a silent warning. “Like I said before, talking about her might help you to better process the loss you’re feeling. You said you loved her, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Bucky answers honestly. Despite how he’s been walking on eggshells the past couple of days, dancing around the memories of her which swirl on a constant loop through his mind now that it’s once again summer, he knows he’s telling the truth. “Yes, I did. Would’ve been awful hard not to. If you’d… if you’d known her, you’d understand what I mean.”
Raynor’s eyes soften at the fondness in his tone, lips lifting at the corners in an encouraging smile. “It isn’t all that hard to imagine, based on what you’ve told me about her so far. But what I want to ask you now, James, is this: when did you first realize you were in love with her?”
––
??? –– 1944
His name is James Buchanan Barnes.
He is twenty seven years old.
He’s beginning to forget how he came to be here.
He’s… a soldier. That’s why he’s here, kept against his will, denied any ample amount of food and water. There’s an IV inserted into a vein in his left arm, offering just enough fluid to keep him hydrated. But he can’t remember the last time he’d actually eaten anything, and he worries that if he doesn’t soon, he’ll forget how to. That seems to be their goal, the people keeping him here. They want him to forget, to fall dependent. He doesn’t know why, but they do.
And he also knows that giving them what they want spells catastrophe.
They don’t like it when he speaks –– this, he learns early on. When he asks who they are, what they want, when he demands answers with shouts and writhes hard against the restraints shackling his wrists and ankles to the cold, metal observation table, they speak harshly, angrily. Some of them snap at him to shut up, be quiet. Others backhand him across the face, so hard that the iron taste of blood pools in his mouth.
None of them gives him the answers he seeks. They only go on about their business, hovering over him, writing notes down on clipboards and muttering to themselves in a language he doesn’t think he speaks.
His name is James Buchanan Barnes.
He is twenty seven years old.
And when they come to poke and prod him with needles, his mind draws forward visions of you.
Your smile, so bright and vibrant that for a while he thinks he’s got it confused with his memories of the sun –– something else he hasn’t seen in days, or weeks, or however long it is that he’s been trapped in this cold, dark room. Your eyes, inquisitive and mirthful, hungry for knowledge and answers to questions you don’t yet possess. The soft feel of your palm in his own, smooth and supple, inspiring of comfort he has yet to figure out if he’ll ever know again. The sound of his name wrapped in your voice, falling from your lips as gently as snowflakes from clouds in the sky. That’s the one he holds onto most, the one that helps him remember he wasn’t always in this place. That somewhere out there, someone is waiting for him to get up, break free.
Even if he can no longer properly remember your name, he knows he’s meant to be coming back to you.
He’s almost positive that he promised he would.
His name is James Buchanan Barnes.
He is twenty seven years old.
And even though the last memory he has of you isn’t exactly one of his happiest moments, he clings to it as tightly as he can and plays it over and over again in his mind.
You’d been angry with him. He remembers this perfectly, can easily recall the exact shape of the frown bending your mouth, the fear in your eyes as you’d shouted angrily, begged him not to go. He’d desperately wished he could heed your words –– and he would have, had it been within his power.
But the sad, miserable truth of his life is that his will and wishes are not his own. He bends to the motives of the United States Army, exists as nothing more than a tool for them to use in their pursuits of the ongoing war. When they call, he comes running. When they say jump, he asks how high.
And when they placed him in charge of marching the 107th unit behind enemy lines in Azzano, in hopes of infiltrating a foreign weapons base that seemed on the verge of becoming a particular problem, he’d had no choice but to accept his orders and break the news as gently as he could.
Not that you’d taken it very well, in spite of his efforts.
“Go to hell,” you’d spit over your shoulder at him, turning your back and stomping off in a seemingly random direction. Not that this was very effective in stopping him from following in your tracks, especially given that one of his strides easily matched three of yours.
“Darlin’, come on,” he’d tried, only to have you furiously whirl around and jab a finger at his chest.
“Donot darlin’ me right now,” you’d hissed. The fiery anger in your eyes burned through him, right down to his soul. He’d wanted so badly to reach out and take you in his arms, wrap you up and reassure you that it would all be okay, that it wouldn’t be more than a couple of days, two weeks max, that he’d be gone. But he’d never been the best at lying, as often as he always tried. Something always gave him away. “Look, just–– just leave me alone, alright? Go away, and leave me alone. This isn’t… I can’t deal with this.”
And he would have done what you’d asked of him in that moment, had it been within his power. But he’d be leaving the camp bright and early the next morning, running headfirst into danger with no concrete guarantee that he’d come back out of it alive. As hopeful as he was that the outcome would work in his favor, that didn’t mean he was at all willing to pass up on the chance to say goodbye to you. He respected your anger –– some of it, he even felt for himself. But he couldn’t leave you alone. Not yet, not like this. Not without the chance to assure you that everything would be just fine, even if he didn’t one hundred percent believe it.
So he waited another few moments, letting your anger run its course, work its way through you, before reaching down to pluck your hand up from your side, cradling it with both his own.
“Listen,” he’d murmured softly, scanning each and every inch of your face and quietly committing it to memory. Just in case, he’d told himself. Just in case. “You know I don’t actually want to go, right? That I don’t want to do this?”
“Sodon’t,” you’d pleaded, glittering tears of frustration welling like raindrops in your eyes. “Don’t go. Tell them no. Say you won’t.”
“I would if it were up to me,” he’d sighed, running the pads of his thumbs across the soft back of your hand, the delicate lacework of veins patterning the inside of your wrist. “But once the orders come down, that’s it. I’m… I’m sorry, but I’m stuck. There’s nothing I can do.”
“You haven’t even tried,” came your accusatory sob, words cutting into his ribs like daggers with especially dull blades. They twisted in his chest something vicious, deep and straight to the bone. “And you have–– you have the nerve to ask me––?”
He’d used the leverage of his grip on your wrist to pull you into his chest, holding you close and letting you sob into his shoulder, smoothing your hair as you’d cried and cried. It haunted him, that sound. Made him feel dark and awful on the inside, reminded him that in the grand scheme of things, there was actually very little he could do to protect you from all the wickedness in the world. Funny, how all the pain he’d ever felt in his life didn’t hold a candle to that particular agony.
“It’s going to be okay,” he’d murmured into your hair, sighing deep so as to instill your scent into his concrete, long term memory. “You hear me? You’ve gotta know that it’s going to take a lot more than some stupid war to keep me from coming back to you. Tell me you at least know that.”
His name is James Buchanan Barnes.
He is twenty seven years old.
And he’s pretty sure that no matter what these scientists do to him as they conduct their experiments, he will always perfectly remember the way his heart fractured into two when you’d told him you couldn’t be certain.
––
July 13th, 1944
Two weeks, three days, six hours, and counting.
The time passed since the universe last saw Bucky Barnes affixed to your side.
Part of you wishes you could go back to that moment. Rewrite it. Change it. Tell him the truth, or a lie, or anything other than what you’d said to him that night, the last words he’d ever heard fall from your lips thus far. All that fear churning through your veins at the prospect of losing him had turned your blood to ice, and in response to the sensation of that you’d taken it out on him. He hadn’t deserved it, but you’d done it anyway.
Now, all you want is to be able to take it back.
“Oh, honey, he knows you didn’t mean it,” Sally crows in your ear one night, squeezing the arm she’s got slung around your waist in reassurance as you quietly cry into her shoulder. “This is war, y’know? Only makes sense that the thought of him going off to battle would scare the daylights out of you. Just you wait, you hear me? He’s gonna come back and you’re gonna realize it’s already been forgiven.”
Kinder words than you deserve, considering the nature of the ones you’d launched at Bucky during your sorry excuse for a goodbye. Even so, you let them wash over you like drops of rain, breathing deep and pouring what little energy you have left into hoping that Sally’s intuition is right.
One week, one day, two hours, and counting.
The time passed since forty six of the two hundred men of the 107th unit sent off to disband the foreign weapons plant in Azzano come shambling back to camp, worse for wear and wounded in ways you’ve never seen.
Your training kicks in as you set to work, the needs of all the injured men taking precedence in your mind over your own selfish hopes. Not that this does much to deter you searching, scanning, picking through the men and their faces even as you work stitches into one’s arm, hoping and praying that you’ll catch even a moment’s glimpse of the blue eyes you’re desperately looking for.
You never do find them, hard as you try. But you never stop searching, either.
Four days, one hour, thirteen minutes, and counting.
The time passed since the superior officers of the military camp declare the lost one hundred and forty four men of the 107th unit Killed In Action.
There’s a solemn mood which falls across the remaining members of the camp in response to the announcement. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear some poor girl let out an ugly sob of bereavement. It takes a moment to realize that the sound actually comes from your own lungs, and even then, you don’t fully understand what’s happened until Sally and Nora are bearing your weight between the two of them as they slowly but surely muscle you back to your tent.
Sleep evades in the coming night, and as you toss and turn and wrestle with the memories of that sweet, sweet man in your mind’s eye, the images of his face scrunched up in amused delight and the toothy smile you’d come to adore flashing like dying stars against the backs of your eyelids, you wonder if that isn’t more a blessing than it is a curse.
One day, two hours, six minutes, and counting.
Twelve hours, forty seven minutes, and—
Four hours, twenty two—
Five minutes and counting.
The time passed since you’ve shed tears for a man you shouldn’t already be so hopelessly smitten with.
It’s the littlest things that set them flowing. The blue of the sky, on account of how its clarity reminds you of the color of his eyes. The sight of the cot furthest from the entrance to the med tent –– the one he’d been stuck in for weeks as you nursed him back to health, so utterly insistent that you be the only one to tend to his wounds. The feeling of the sun warming your skin, reminiscent of the day you’d shared a lunch together beneath shady trees and traded stories of your home lives.
“Got three baby sisters who chatter like birds,” he’d chuckled, fingers walking freely across your open palm. “But I swear, I love them all more than I’ve ever loved anything.”
And, most recently, the sight of the warped hunk of metal that was the bullet you’d dug out of his abdomen upon your first meeting –– the entire cause of that incendiary argument you’d had with Bucky the very night before his departure. It takes the place of his hand in yours, winks rudely up at you in the low light of the single lantern you’ve got lit in your tent. Taunting, teasing, daring you to take your eyes away from it for even a second, if you can manage.
You never can, despite your efforts, and each time the bullet wins the battles of wills, it forces you to recall the night Bucky left it with you.
He walks you to the edge of the base that evening, a nice, cool spot beneath the sycamores he’d introduced you to a few days prior offering the two of you a false sense of privacy. Here, it’s easy to play pretend, to forget that you’re a nurse and Bucky a soldier, to ignore that something as pure as what you’ve kindled between the two of you was initially ignited and spurred on by war. Here, there are no expectations. Here, you’re nothing more than a girl and a boy, meant to eventually, someday, go dancing.
Here, he takes hold of your hand and smiles.
“I don’t like that look you’ve got on your face,” Bucky murmurs, smoothing his thumb over the back of your hand. “Come on, you. This isn’t any time for frowns.”
“Well, it’s certainly no time for smiles, either,” you shoot back, biting your lip as you cast your gaze to the ground. Beside the tree you stand beneath, the grass is green and lush. A pretty enough sight, but not one that has any hope in curing your melancholy. Not after the news of the orders the soldiers received just that afternoon. “They can’t make you go.”
Bucky sighs, a sadder sound than you’d realized him capable of making. “I wish that were true, but you know they can. Physically, I’m fit to serve, so they can send me out on any orders they want.”
“Then I’ll declare you unfit!” you insist, snapping your eyes back up to his face. It hurts your heart to see the remorse present in Bucky’s features. Almost as much as does the thought of him marching off and away, leaving you in this military camp, never to return again. “You just recovered from a gunshot, for Christ’s sake!”
“‘Recovered’ being the key word,” Bucky quietly points out, swallowing hard enough that its sound is audible. “Look, the bosses were real clear about this assignment. Everyone who’s able’s gotta go. I don’t know much about the weapons facility they’ve got us scoping out, but according to the rumors, it’s no joke. If we don’t do something about it a lot of people could end up dying.”
“Bucky,you could end up dying,” you snap. Even speaking the words as a hypothetical make your insides churn. “This isn’t right, them jumping the gun like this. This is how you got shot in the first place. They have to–– there are clearances they need to get, permission has to be granted. They can’t dothis.”
“They’re not supposed to be able to,” he agrees. “But they are, and I’ve got no choice but to follow orders.” He opens his mouth to say something else, but abruptly snaps it shut at the sight of the tears beginning to well up in your eyes. “Hey, hey. Darlin’, it’s okay. Alright?”
It’s not. Not at all. Not when you’ve spent the last few weeks with this man at your side, pulling giggles and smiles and blushes out of you in a manner so effortless it fascinates you as much as it endears you. Not when you’ve gotten close enough to know him, an admittedly foolish action you’d promised yourself upon signing up to be a war nurse that you’d never make the mistake of doing. Not when he’s only just asked you to dance with him someday, so shy and nervous the very sight of it made your heart sing.
Bucky stares at you a moment, contemplation warring in his eyes. You barely notice as he reaches down into his pocket with his free hand, still rubbing comforting circles into the back of yours with the other. You don’t piece together why he looks to be scrounging up any confidence he can until he once again opens his mouth, leaning down to press his forehead to yours as he does.
“I was wondering,” he murmurs, so soft and kind and sweet, with a bit of hope shining in his eyes, “if you wouldn’t mind keeping this safe for me while I’m gone.”
He lets his other hand come up to meet the other, unfurling your fingers and pressing a cool, small object into your palm before curling your fist closed again. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is, nor do you need to gaze into his eyes to know the underlying implications of what it is that he’s really asking you.
The feeling of a warm, gentle touch at your shoulder startles you from the memory, instantly causing the fine lines and details of Bucky’s face to dissipate from your vision like smoke in the wind. Blinking, you come back to yourself, finding the little bullet still resting in your outstretched palm and Sally’s concerned expression at your side.
“You’ve gotta stop doin’ this to yourself,” she sighs quietly, a sad lilt to her tone. There’s no judgement, not disappointment. Only genuine concern and worry. The kind offered by a friend who means well, but knows they’re operating outside their realm of expertise. “He wouldn’t want you feelin’ tortured like this.”
“I’m sorry,” you respond, closing your fingers around the bullet just as Bucky had done that night and drawing it close to your chest.
Sally only shakes her head, using the gentle grip she’s got on your shoulders to guide you over to your cot and urging you to sit down. “You missed that show the superiors put on to cheer up the soldiers,” she mentions as she bends down to untie the laces of your boots, pulling them off one by one. “Think there were enough leggy dancers to make a healthy man drop dead of a heart attack.”
The ghost of a smile flickers across your face. You can’t say for certain if it feels odd because of the misery still swirling through you, or if you’ve simply forgotten how to do it. “Well, I’m sure that went over well.”
“Mmm, it did,” Sally goes on, fluttering about. She peels back the blanket on your cot, then motions for you to get settled beneath it –– which you do. You’d learned early on that Sally didn’t much mind your perpetual state of melancholy, so long as you allowed her to care for you until you could once again find the strength to do it yourself. “At least, it did until they brought out that big, muscly fella they’ve been parading around to try and up the war bond sales. After that, it kinda turned into a free for all.”
“Shame,” you sigh as Sally tucks the blanket around your shoulders, ensuring that you’re situated before she drops down beside you, legs dangling off the cot’s end. Leggy enough to be a dancer herself, should she ever choose to be. “Was he alright?”
“Don’t really know,” Sally answers, stifling a yawn. “He disappeared after it was all said and done. Last I heard, Colonel Phillips is still lookin’ for him.”
“Well, I hope they find him,” you whisper, letting your eyes slip closed. God knows there have already been too many soldiers gone missing for comfort around here.
“They will,” comes Sally’s soft reply. “But don’t you worry your head with any of that. Go on and get some sleep, alright? I’ll stay ‘til the morning again, if you want.”
You nod once, too tired for anymore tears to slip down your cheeks. And when the bliss of unconsciousness finally comes to claim you, it does so without offering the comfort of a dream.
