Work Text
Present
New York, NY
Avengers Tower
9:26 PM
As I trudge through the entryway, the crowd's part like the Red Sea. The looks they shot me were unnerving, but it was understandable seeming as I was currently covered from head-to-toe in dirt, ash, and a hellish amount of other people’s blood. The fear in their eyes was visible to anyone with sight, but I was too far lost in my head to even notice. Just keeping my gaze cast to the floor, I slowly made my way to the stairwell on the west wall. Even just thinking about riding in the elevator with all those innocent, unknowing souls, made me nauseous beyond belief. And while Tony was sure to throw a fit about the stains I was tracking though the lobby, I just couldn’t bring myself to care, and just kept walking to my planned destination. Home. Him. If he’d still have me after all the stunts I’ve pulled recently... I vaguely hear the squeaky voiced receptionist calling out towards me, in order to stop and make me go through the proper security procedures. She seemed to not recognize me under all the grime, even though I do in fact work here. I’m on the damn team after all. She made no real moves to stop me. Smart. I don’t have time for her shit anyways. I have important places to be, important people to see. I thought that a hike up thirty-two floors would give me enough time to get my breathing under control. That it’d be enough time to get my thoughts under control. I was stupid to hope that would be the case, nothing is that easy for me. Nothing. My brain still swarmed with the images of her. Of what I did to her. What I did to all of them. Whilst trying to literally shake the thoughts from my head, I clumsily run directly into Steve Frickin’ Rogers. It takes his eyes a moment to register who I am, but it’s clear when he finally does. Many emotions go across his strong features. Shocks turns to confusion, then to anger, but sorrow quickly takes residence in his cobalt blue eyes. He starts to speak, “Y/N, where the hell have yo—” I cut him off with a hand on his chest. “Steve, I promise I will tell you all the nightmares I just went through, just... just not tonight. Okay? I really can’t do this tonight. Not with you. I gotta talk to him first. I need him first. Please understand that.” I plead with him, a hint of desperation in my voice, something that’s never there. The look he was giving me made me believe I was in the clear. A silent agreement. We would dwell on my sudden disappearance tomorrow. He would hold me to my promise and let me go for now. As I pulled my hand from his chest and shuffled a couple steps away from his broad form, he reached for my hand. I turned back to him, eyebrow raised in question. “I’m really glad you’re back, Y/N. The compound hasn’t been the same these last few weeks. We all missed you.” The last look he fit me with had me sniffling, before I dropped my stiff shoulders and faced him again. “I missed you too, Stevie.” And with that, I stretched onto my toes and placed as chaste kiss to his cheek. I couldn’t look at him any longer, so I turned back without sparing him another glance. As I reached the familiar oak door, I blew out the breath that I had been holding in since the night I left. What a fateful night that was. Her fate was sealed that night. My fate was supposed to be sealed right along with hers, but I got lucky. I let out a humorless chuckle at that thought. Luck? That’s what that shit was? Lady Luck must have been a real bitch. Through my misery, I manage to lift a shaky fist to knock on the heavy door. It’s an odd feeling to knock on your own door, but I suppose it’s the right thing to do under these circumstances. In case he doesn’t want to deal with me anymore. By chance he doesn’t want me anym— My self-deprecating thoughts are cut short when the door swings open and I’m met with the glorious sight of Bucky Barnes, still in his dark grey sweats and one of his black compression t-shirts. He must have just gotten back from his nightly workout. Being a super soldier gave him a freakish amount of energy he had to find a way to burn off. I helped him with that the night I left, leaving only a stupid note in my wake after he basically passed out from exhaustion. I quickly turn my head down, unable to meet his surprised gaze, and shuffle back a little. God, I’m so fucking stupid. I shouldn’t have come back, this is only going to burden him even more. I should leave, run so no one, not even him, will find me. Somehow always knowing how to read me and where my heads at, he breaks the tense silence first. “Y/N? Doll, is that really you? This isn’t another nightmare is it?” His voice sounded so breathy and oh, so broken. The thought of him in pain because of me is what brought on the first wave of tears. A sob teared its way from my throat and I covered my face, to hide my shame. The whole ordeal rocked my axis more than just a little, and I stumbled towards the hard floor. But before I could hit said floor, Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around my torso and held me tight to his chest, while I sobbed into the crook of his neck. His flesh hand went into my hair and rubbed soothing circles on my temple with his thumb. He did this for quite some time before he tucked his cybernetic arm under the backs of my thighs and lifted me, realizing that this was a serious situation that didn’t need any on-lookers added into the mix. Once he shouldered the door closed, he walked the two of us to the bed and sat down, me still curled up in his lap with my head under his chin. During this time, the smell of him calmed me significantly, turning my sobs to weak whimpers. Deciding that it was now or never, Bucky slightly lifted my chin to get me to look at him. “Doll, please look at me?” his voice was soft, inviting. I shook my head and burrowed further into his neck. I knew that we needed to talk, that I needed to tell him about her, but I just couldn’t do it while looking into those baby blues. “I can’t.” “You can’t?” I nodded and he continued, “What’s goin’ on, sweetheart? You’re really worrying me. Where were you?” Though he posed it like a question, I had an inkling that he probably already knew the answer to that question. It was all too much. I couldn’t be the only one who knew anymore, I had to tell him. “She’s dead, Buck. Alice is dead. And I’m the one who did it. I put a bullet between her eyes.” He didn’t speak after that, obviously trying to process the new information and trying to figure out how the hell I’m here with him right now. His silence was deafening, driving me nuts. I reluctantly pull myself out of my arms, using his expansive shoulders to steady myself as I stand. I hug myself as I start pacing a hole into the carpet, trying to gauge his feelings. But man, when the guy wanted to be, he was as difficult to read as a brick wall. His face was impassive as he watched his hand pick at an imaginary piece of link on his sweats. I let out another humorless chuckle, just as I did at the door, and start to recite a line from Robin Hood. “What is done is done; and the cracked egg cannot be cured.” The line leaves my tongue in a low voice as I resume my pacing. This seems to pull him from his reverie as he recognizes the quote immediately, and he looks at me with a serious expression. “You’re not a cracked egg, Y/N.” He doesn’t want to ask the obvious question, “Are you okay?” He knows me, knows that I'm far from okay. He can tell I'm still in shock, that this hasn’t fully hit me yet. He is trying to figure out what to say that isn’t going to send me spiraling. The room is falls into silence once again, as Bucky stares at me from the bed. I feel his gaze burning into me, even after I look down at my shoes. I take this time to finally look at myself, seeming I haven’t really had the courage to since it happened. I’m covered in a layer of grime that is now caked onto my skin, completely obscuring my view of the tattoos on the tops of my hands. Good. I haven’t been able to stomach the thought of actually looking into a mirror, seeing our face, but I can only imagine that it looks like a bird has taken residence atop of my head. Bucky is obviously also in shock, which is unsurprising after what I just told him. There are a million ways that he could react that would be completely understandable. I just told him my worst nightmare, though he has yet to say anything on the subject. When I do finally look up at him, I see nothing. His look is one of nothing. But at least nothing was better than pity or disgust, right? When the silence is broken a few tantalizing minutes later, he says something that’s was so surprising, yet so unbelievably Bucky all at the same time. “What do you need from me? What can I do to help?” The way he speaks is so calm and unwavering. How this is possible? I’m not sure, seeming as I’d be freaking the fuck out if I was in his shoes right now. Hell, I’m freaking the fuck out in my own shoes. I look towards the right a little, right at a photo on his side of the bed’s night stand. Bucky and my smiling faces stare directly back at me. Taking in a deep inhale, I breathe out, “I don’t know, Buck. I don’t know,” gently shaking my head and looking deeply into his eyes. He seems to always know what to do, because what he offers next sounds heavenly. He stands, putting on a brave face, and makes his way over to me. Once he’s as far in my bubble as he can be without actually being in my skin with me, he puts his flesh hand on my cheek, thumb stroking lovingly. Bucky starts with a little chuckle, “Hate to break it to you, doll, but you stink. How ‘bout a shower and some rest before we get into the hard stuff? Both figuratively and literally, I still have that Jack in the freezer.” He ends his statement off with a small wink, obviously trying to make me feel a tad less shitty. It works, I manage to crack out a small smile and an even smaller nod. His ability to create humor out of thin air, even during difficult times, never ceases to amaze me. “I haven’t showered in four days... I must look awful.” I whisper. “No. You look beautiful.” His reply is immediate. Liar. But it’s a kind lie. The two of us make our way hand-in-hand to the en suite bathroom; a place that I considered my ‘safe space’ when I first arrived at the Tower two years ago. I finally catch a glimpse on myself in the mirror to the right of me, I can tell why everyone has been grimacing after the tinniest look at me. Wiping the side of my face with my palm, I look down at it scrunch up my nose slightly and frown. During my appearance and I’s little reunion, Bucky starts the shower and makes sure the water is nice and hot, just how I like it. When he turns to retreat out the door, I start to panic and reach for him. “You’re not leaving, are you?” If I was my normal self and not this whiny version, I would absolutely think that I sounded pathetic. He shakes his head and spins around to face me, “I’m not going anywhere.” His tone is firm and honest. “I just didn’t think you’d want to air dry afterwards. I’m going right outside to grab us some towels. I’ll be right back. Promise.” When James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes makes a promise, he damn well keeps it. He was back not even half a second later. Bucky undressing me is always an intimate affair between the two of us, no matter the situation, sad shower or no. And while this is not the sexiest of times to be doing this, especially given these circumstances, he still makes me feel like the prettiest girl in the world. If I had to take a guess, I’d say it’s a talent of his. He removes all the weapons from my body one by one: one Glock 19 on my thigh, the other had gone missing during the fight, the Beretta M9A1 Pistol on my lower back, all four Gerber Guardian Back Up knives from my boots, and even the remaining Widow Bites attached to the rows on both sides of my abdomen. He then unstraps the empty utility belt on my waist, the extra magazine clips had been left with the rest of the burning compound three days ago, along with the now also empty holsters. All that’s remains is the vibranium wrist guards that are wrapped around both of my forearms, and he unstraps them and throws them to floor along with the rest of my gear. Bucky drops to his knees in front of me in order to untie my dirty, muddy, bloody combat boots. When he furthermore goes to take off my socks, I grab his shoulder to steady myself. He looks up at the contact and smirks, then returns his gaze to the task in front of him, completing it easily. As he rises to his feet, he tilts my head back and gives me a peck on the lips before he murmurs, “I love you, ya know that? I’m really glad you’re home, angel.” The nickname rolls of his tongue in complete and utter adoration. The dorky smile on his face is still there when he turns me around. The chilly metal of his left hand makes me shiver involuntarily when is lands on my trapezius muscle, his other hand going to the zipper at the top of the stealth suit I’m wearing. The zipper being pulled down and mine and Bucky’s shallow breathing are the only sounds to be heard in the large bathroom. He helps me climb out of the suit, holding my hand to make sure that I don’t fall. The last pieces of clothing remaining are my sports bra and plain Jane cotton panties. Bucky puts his fingers under the elastic band and trails his fingertips across my chest, pushing up until the piece of fabric falls to the ground. Instead of dropping to his knees again to remove my underwear, he hooks a finger into the top and pushes down until they fall and join the rest of my clothing on the floor. He pulls open the glass door and shuffles me inside, while he makes quick work of his own clothes. It’s less lustful, but still visually pleasing and worth watching. If he sees me gawking, he makes no comment on it and continues to undress quickly. The look on his face when he enters the steamy shower is one of love and relief. The previously mentioned look from before, soon turns into a combination of small actions that can relay the same message. Bucky places his hands on my hips and drags me into a kiss; a kiss that goes from a few sweet pecks to a hot and heavy make out session in a short amount of time. It’s all teeth and tongue, but it’s beautiful and full of passion. He pulls away all too quickly and pops the bubble of sensual silence the two of us created. “Hey, are you crying?” From the look he’s giving me and the now apparent whimpers I’m hearing, I’m beyond sure that Bucky’s right and I am indeed crying, but I still lift a hand to check. There are definite tears on my cheeks, tears that seem to just keep on coming. Shit. The old Y/N was never this big of a baby. Pull it together, damnit! I drop my forehead to his right shoulder and let the hand that’s currently resting where flesh meets metal, rub out the tension that’s building within him. His scar always hurts during stressful situations, and he just so happens to be dating someone that stressful situation’s stick to like magnets. He lets out a breathy sigh, while I also let one out, mine is just heavier and full of pain. “I’m sorry. I swear I’ll pull it together soon, I just... I just need a minute.” I had painted my toenails a deep purple for a date we went on about a month ago; it was easier to look at the chipping paint rather than those cobalt blues. Not having any of that, he puts both palms, flesh and metal alike, on my cheeks and lifts my face to look him in the eyes. “Never apologize for something like this. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Do you understand me?” His voice his firm, it doesn’t waver throughout his statement. It’s almost enough to make me believe that there is no false truth in what he’s saying. Almost. I can only nod in reply. It’s not much, but he seems to be pleased with it. Bucky smiles bright and grabs the wash cloth and the Old Spice off the shower caddy. It always made both me and Bucky feel special when I smelled like him. He goes on his merry way and washes me head to toe, literally. Scrubbing the bird’s nest that is my hair, he manages to get almost all the grime out. After pumping body wash onto the cloth, Bucky then takes a knee and washes me from bottom to top. Once he gets my body the cleanest it will be after only one wash, he starts, “I’m going to make you feel better, okay?” Since I’ve known him, he’s always been like this: asking permission. He has to make sure that what he’s doing isn’t the wrong thing to do. Maybe it’s has something to do with the fact that he was a Soviet brainwashed assassin for over seven decades, and it’s now ingrained into his psyche. Bucky is still afraid of getting punished, whether he realized it or not. And while there is an unspoken consent to most things, seeming as we’ve been together for almost a year and a half, it is obvious that we both needed it. We needed to communicate in all the ways possible, to strengthen the bond that was previously weakened. I close my eyes, let out a breath, and let a small smile break free. Adding to the communication, I nod weakly and say, “Please.” I lift my left hand and rest it on his shoulder, both massive pieces of metal and flesh now partially covered with my dainty palms. When I open my eyes again, after readjusting to the bright lights in the bathroom, I see that Bucky is positively beaming with joy. And maybe something a little darker, but who can blame him? After gently placing a large hand on my sternum, which at some point had made its way right above my breasts, he presses me against the shower wall. Without taking his eyes off mine, Bucky slides his palm down my body, slowing dropping to his knees. He leaves kisses in every place his fingers drag across. He spends a few extra seconds tracing my navel with his tongue. By the time he reaches his destination, I’m panting. While he kisses my lower lips, his fingers draw random patterns into my belly and chest. The forgotten sensation of his skin on mine sends me spiraling into a memory.
Two and a Half Weeks Ago
New York, NY
Avengers Tower
7:02 PM “Say it. I know you want to, doll, just sa—” Bucky smirks from his temporary spot above me on the ring’s mats. I spit out a cocky reply before he has a chance to finish, “I’d rather rip out my voice box, Barnes.” “Awe, baby, you wound me.” He even has the audacity to put a pained look on his face. Adding those stupid puppy dog eyes into the mix, he continues, “Come onnnnnnnn,” Bucky whines, “Just say that I’m better at fighting and I'll get off you. Really, this hurts me more than it hurts you.” “Doubt it,” I scoff. Though Bucky Barnes looks like one scary SOB, when it comes to me, he’s a big ‘ole softie. I wiggle my hips a little, to adjust my position under him, and realize that he is anything but soft right now. Deciding to use this to my advantage, I wipe the scowl that’s currently residing my face off and put a seemingly innocent enough smile on my face. “But Buck, what if I don’t want you to get off me? What do I do then, huh?” My voice is sweet, full of promises. The complete 180 shift of my mood should have made him realize something was off, but instead it guides him right into my trap, just like I knew it would. “Well...” he pretends to think, as if he doesn’t already know what he wants to do to me, “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll flip you over and fuck you right here in the gym where anyone could walk in and see us.” To support his statement, he inches his hand down my torso towards my hip, giving it a small squeeze for emphasis. Stupid move really. He proceeds to say, “Is that what you want, Y/N?” He practically purrs my name, which almost makes me feel bad for what I'm about to do. Almost. Without waiting for my answer, Bucky closes his eyes and begins to lower his head closer to mine. I don’t take my eyes off his face when I grab the hand on my left hip with my right hand. Once I get a good grip on his shoulder with my other hand, I lock my leg around his ankle and bridge my hips. This move effectively helps me flip our position, putting Bucky on his back with my thighs straddling his torso. All of this is done with my eyes fastened directly on him. I lean down to whisper in his ear, “Now what was it that you wanted me to say?” Bucky huffs. A pout graces his face, but he still manages to plant his hands on my hips to make sure I don’t try to go anywhere. He’s about to say something when there’s a retching sound behind my back. The noise causes the both of us to jump, seeming when we’re not distracted our senses are usually better than that. Tony Stark’s irritated voice fills the room before I even have the chance to turn around. When I do in fact turn around, his face is just as irritated, if not more so, than his voice. “No wonder Starboy out there didn’t want to come in here to talk to his best bud, probably knew he’d be walking into a damn porno. Bleh,” he blanches, “See if I ever do something kind for any of you again.” The mention of Steve has Bucky abandoning his decision to completely avoid Tony, and to look up over my thigh at the man standing rather uncomfortably in the doorway. “What does Steve want?” If it was just us, Bucky would say “Stevie”. The thought causes me to giggle, which I cover poorly cover with a cough. The noise makes both men throw glances my way but return to staring each other down, not even two seconds later. “What? Oh right, the dear Captain America wants you, Manchurian Candidate, to go on a run with him tomorrow morning. That is if you can get away from the ball and chain.” Tony ducks back into the hallway before my shoe can hit him in the head. Laughing, he states, “I’ll take that as yes. Good luck with Hit-Girl over there, Barnes!” “Ass!” “Aye-aye, Stark!” The bastard salutes. He has it coming. The sound of a smack followed by a thundering laugh reverberates throughout the rest of the Tower’s floor. 1:53 AM Bucky and I didn’t spend much longer “working out” after Tony interrupted us, instead deciding to retire to bed early. Though we went to bed, sleeping wasn’t on the night’s agenda for a couple of hours. Just like how Hansel and Grettle left the bread crumbs, we left our clothes in different places from the gym to our bedroom. While most of our undergarments (I.e. his and my panties) stayed on, my new purple sports bra drew the short end of the stick and remains in pieces in the elevator. The fabric of the curtains rustling together, and Bucky’s soft snores are the only sounds to be heard in the quite room. The small slivers of light from the moon that shine through the windows cause shadows to dance across the sharp plains of Bucky’s face. After a few minutes of watching the shadows do their routine, his jaw starts to twitch and his breath quickens. I run my hand through his recently cut locks and start to concentrate. Before his handsome face can contort into something of pain, I start my projection.
The crowd is cheering, Marilyn Maxwell and Kay Kyser's Band’s “One Girl & Two Boys” plays in the background. Bucky is dressed in his Military uniform, hat tilted slightly to the right, while I’m wrapped in a navy-blue swing dress. Our friends and fellow Avengers linger somewhere in the mass of people, all dressed to the nine’s in respectable 40’s attire.
Bucky’s face lights up as he turns to me,
“Now how’d I get so lucky to get dizzy with a dame like you?” The admiration in his voice makes me swoon and giggle all at the same time.
“Sorry sailor, I couldn’t tell ya, I’m quite the catch.” Which is rubbish, since I’m the one that doesn’t deserve him, but I finish the statement off with a wink anyways.
“Sailor?” he playfully scoffs and brings his metal palm to rest across his chest, “You’re speaking to James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th Infantry Regiment. US Army. Ain’t no sailors ‘round here, doll.” And while he’s trying to chastise me, he's only making my giggling increase.
“Alright, alright Mr. Army man ask a lady to dance already.” His smile widens even further, if possible, and he grabs my hand in his flesh one, bringing it up to his lips.
“Sorry sugar, the memory is a little hazy sometimes. Do an old man a favor and dance with him?” Bucky finishes off his question by kissing the top of my hand, right on my tattoo. He loves even my bad parts, even here where things like his past or my past don’t exist, and the kiss just seals his love.
“I thought you’d never ask, James.” He visibly shivers when I say his first name, but he shakes it off and leads me into the beginning of the Swing Out dance. A few kicks here and there, some tapping of the feet, and a few spins. Steve even steals me away for a couple of steps.
The moves don’t matter, it’s the love engulfing this place in Bucky’s head that’s important. He missed out on a lot of times like these, and he feels the loss deep in his heart, whether he likes to admit it or not. I’m in his head, he can’t hide the longing from me. In our earlier days, I used to just set the scene then leave, to let him enjoy it here in peace. I didn’t want to pop his bubble of serenity; he should get to have his moment, even if it’s just in his dreams. But once after he was hit during a mission, while he was drugged out on pain meds, he told me he didn’t want to spend that time with people who didn’t matter to him anymore. I’ve joined him ever since. I’m glad he lets me share these moments with him.
The song is close to coming to an end when he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my neck,
“Are you ready, baby?”
Lifting a brow, “Ready for what, James?” Of course I know what, we’ve been doing this same night over and over again for months now, but I like to indulge in this fantasy for him.
He places his arm across my stomach, his hand gripping my side, and uses his metal appendage to help lift and flip me over his arm. I land on my feet when the song ends, Bucky pulls me right back into his arms. Billie Holiday’s “I’m Yours” starts playing and the two of us begin to sway.
Ask the sky above
And ask the earth below
Why I'm so in love
And why I love you so
Couldn't tell you, though I tried to
Just why I'm yours
“Thank you, doll.” He rests his cheek on my temple as we continue to move slowly from side to side. The music starts to fade out, along with the dream.
When you went away
You left a glowing spark
Trying to be gay as
Whistling in the dark
I am only what you make me
Come take me
I'm yours When I wake, my fingers are still carding through Bucky’s hair while he now sleeps peacefully, his dreams no longer plagued with nightmares. His now even breathing turns into gentle snores, which starts to lull me to sleep. In fact, I’m almost asleep when my phone vibrates on the bedside table. It buzzes precisely three times before I let out a groan and roll over to grab it. When I press the power button, the brightness blinds me. It takes me a few seconds of my scrambling to turn it down. The light may have blinded me momentarily, but the words I read paralyzed me permanently; I may never completely move on from this point in time. TEXT RECEIVED FROM UNKNOWN NUMBER (740)-555-3291 Unknown: 1 Thessalonians 5: 1-2 Unknown: The Lord made His move. It’s your turn now, Mephistopheles. Unknown wants to send you a picture. Do you accept?
Yes No
Y/N accepts the picture The picture shown is Alice, my twin, also known as Azza: the fallen angel whose name means “the strong”, chained to a filthy floor. She is bounded from head to toe, that damned mask covering her mouth. Her clothes are ratty and torn to pieces. Growing up, it was always easy to tell who was who because her hair was always longer than mine, but is seems they have completely buzzed it military short; an act to show their control over her. The fact that she has tears in her eyes means that she is still her for the time being. Awfully enough, she’s still feeling; which is yet to be determined whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. The first thing that needs to be done is to find out what that verse is. Jumping out of bed, I quietly tear the closet apart until I find the Bible in the very back. It’s one of the few things I took with me before we escaped, I haven’t had it in me to get rid of it yet. I flip to the thirteenth book of the New Testament.
1 Thessalonians 5:
“1 Now, brothers and sisters, about times and dates we do not need to write to you, 2 for you know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. “ I blow out a deep, painful breath. What the hell? Why now? Why her? They obviously have been keeping tabs on me and they managed to hack Tony Stark’s tech, why didn’t they just take me instead? Why did it have to be her? None of those questions matter. I have to go get her out of the evil clutches of that man. Now. At whatever cost. I pull on some underwear and a new sports bra, grabbing sweats to cover the rest. I start throwing my belongings into a few different bags, making sure to grab only the important things. I carefully pull up the floor board, snatching the go bag under it, the one that Bucky and I put there over a year ago. I make my way to the door whispering to myself,
Don’t look back.
Don’t look.
Don’t. Looking over my shoulder at the man sleeping butt ass naked in our bed, I decide to at least give him something. I hurry over to the desk to get a note pad off of it, and scribble down a note that only he’d get. Something between us. A goodbye note, if you will. “’Lo, God! I am Thy handiwork. I have sinned and I have done great evil, yet I am still Thy handiwork, who hath made me what I am. So, though I may not undo that which I have done, yet I may, with Thy aid, do better here after than I have done heretofore.’ I have to use Thy’s handiwork one more time. I’ll be back, don’t worry too much, love. Yours always, Y/N” At least I hope I’ll be back. After throwing him into another projection, one chock full of love, I lean down to give his forehead a kiss. I make it out the door without looking back but hurts like a bitch. Pushing my pain down, I rush down the hallway, into the elevator, and down to the armory where all the suits and weapons are kept. I strip out of my sweats and into my stealth suit. Once I've shot back up from lacing up my boots, I turn towards the weaponry. I shove an assortment of random weapons into a duffle on the floor, then load my body with my regular set pieces. I’m not going to need a whole lot seeming as I plan on using my head most of the time, but I grab a decent amount anyways. I don’t want to be totally exhausted when I tear Abaddon apart limb from limb with just my mind. I’m pulled from my morbid thoughts by someone clearing their throat behind me. Turning around, I see Natasha leaning against the doorframe, an almost sad look on her face. I turn back to loading the clips before I speak, “What are you doing up, Nat? Did I wake you up?” I ask innocently. “Don’t try that shit, Y/N. What’s going on? Where the hell are you going?” “I promise, it’s better if you don’t know. This is my drama. Not yours.” She signs loudly, in a disapproving matter, then slips into the room fully. I follow her movement with her eyes and watch her go to her stationary. Natasha pulls out twelve Widow Bites, two side holsters, and the wristband to activate the Bites. She makes her way over to me, pulling me to sit down with her. Nat places the items in my hands and signs again. “Where ever you’re going, just don’t die. Okay? Barnes would be a mess without you. The team would be at a major disadvantage without you here.” Meaning: ‘I’d miss you.’ The mention of Bucky makes my heart hurt, but I manage to not show it. Knowing I can’t make any promises, not to Natasha-I-know-when-you're-lying-Romanov, I set the Bites the side of the bench and drag her into a bone crushing hug. “Thank you, Nat. You’ve been good to me and I'll appreciate that until the end of my days.” Which could be sooner than expected. We both let out a few sniffles here and there during our hug, but neither of us say anything about it. She takes ahold of my shoulders and pushes me back so she can look me in the eye, which a wet just like hers. “What can I say? Us badass women have to stick together, right?” It’s rhetorical, but I answer anyways. “Right.” My smile is real, hers is too from what I can tell. I pick up my bags off the floor and my remaining weapons and walk to the door. Without fully turning, I carry on from over my shoulder, “Take care of Wanda, yeah? She’s the future of badass women, but she needs someone to help her be a badass teenager for the time being.” I don’t see it, but I can only assume she nodded. This is good. Nat will make sure to hold the fort down. She did before I got here, she can do it again. I check my person to make sure I have all I'll need, and I step out the Tower’s front doors for what could be the last time. I hope this isn’t for nothing.
10 days after the message
Murray City, OH
9:29 AM While I’m no Natasha Romanov when it comes to hacking, I’ve managed well enough. The talent I had forced myself to learn while I was on the run became very helpful in deciding where to start with my search for Alice. The phone that was used to contact me was a burner unsurprisingly and I could not pinpoint the exact location, but it wasn’t shut off immediately; I was able to at least determine that they were somewhere in Ohio. Luckily, I have friends in the state. Jacob and Melissa were the first people to leave The Fallen. No one left. Ever. I remember hearing rumors, which were considered “scary stories” back then, about the ones who tried to leave in the past. The wrath of God was cast upon them and they were never seen or heard from again. The followers were so enamored by Abaddon and his promise-filled words, that they didn’t question these disappearances. They didn’t realize that he was conditioning them to relinquish their control to him. Relationships were forbidden in the compound, breeding was the only reason behind coupling. When the two were found behind an abandoned silo, all hell broke loose. Their punishment was a “cleansing”, meaning they were to be wiped in front of everyone, then retaught the ways of The Fallen afterwards. The only mistake Abaddon had made in his planning was that he waited to perform the ceremony, and the lovers used that time to make their leave. Melissa used her last moments at the compound to slip us a communication device; she always knew we weren’t happy being Abaddon’s lap dogs. When Alice and I escaped a year and a half after they left, we tracked the couple down. They welcomed the two of us into their home with open arms and taught us the ways of streets. Jacob and Melissa had learned how to disappear, and we needed to know how too. Apparently, they fell into some business with a couple underground trading rings that dealt with the black market on multiple occasions. Afraid he would find them, the two used their newfound connections to move around a lot. We traveled with them for as long as we could, until it wasn’t safe for me and Alice to be together anymore; we were an easier target when we were in the same place. Last I heard, Jacob and Melissa were hiding out in one of the larger cities in Ohio. After a series of prestigious knocks on an old wooden door of a deserted warehouse, I was pulled inside by a pair of strong hands. From the outside of the building, with all the tags from gangs and graffiti artists, it seemed sketchy. Once I made it inside though, my original doubts about the place were thrown overboard. The floor was covered in different forms of technology, from, generators and standing shop lights to computers and other tracking tech. The strong hands from before pull me into a hug, the flannel he’s wearing rubs gently against my cheek. Taking a whiff of the fabric of his shirt, I smell coffee and a motor oil, which is strangely comforting and familiar. A gruff voice fills the room, his chest vibrating under my ear. “Well howdy there, partner. How have ya been? Where’s your—" “Jake, honey? Who are you talkin’ to?” Melissa slowly makes her way to the entrance, bare feet slapping against the concrete. She is still in her pajamas, seeming to have gotten up at the disturbance. Her eyes widen, corners crinkling slightly, when she catches sight of me from behind her husband. “Y/N! What’re you doin’ here?” Her voice is full of excitement but drops to something filled with concern once she sees the broken look on my face. “What is, sugar? What’s goin’ on?” The worry in her features is what cause me to fall apart for the first time since getting the message. I run into her now open arms and let my tears out on her shoulder. 10:16 AM I manage to tell the couple what’s going on through my sobs. They immediately start firing off ideas on how to find her. Jake leaves the table that they sat me at earlier, to go call a few associates to see if they knew anything. I did that on my way here, trying to find anything and everything on her whereabouts, but the few I called didn’t know anything. Most of his contacts are different than mine anyways, so it wouldn’t hurt to try. “We’re going to find her. I just know it.” I’m looking into the steaming cup of chamomile tea, watching the froth at the top slowly circle the cup a couple of times. When I do meet her eyes, I let out an exasperated sigh. “But what if we don’t? Or what if I get there too late? I don’t think I’ll survive if I lose her, Mel.” Melissa opens her mouth to say something, but Jacob rushing through the door cuts her off. “I think I have a guy who can trace it.” There’s hope in his voice. I sigh again, “It was a burner, there’s no way to track it unless they turn the cell on again. They aren’t all that tech savvy, but I don’t think that they’ll be that stupid.” He gives me a look, one that screams “trust me”, so I go on with a shrug. “But what the hell. Call your guy and get him over here.” The three of us all nod at each other and dive into our first attempt of getting Alice back.
12 days after the message
Murray City, OH
11:34 PM As expected, Jake’s friend couldn’t track the cell used, but he did manage to snag an area code: 740. It was exciting until we realized it was the area code used for a little over twenty-six different cities, that’s thousands and thousands of miles to sort through. It’s basically like trying to find a needle, or in our case a mutant with super strength, in a giant ass pile of other, only slightly different, needles. With my eyes glued to the screen I’m looking at, trying to look though as much of the 740 cities as I can, I almost miss the incessant chirping coming from below me on the desk. Taking a quick glance around the room, I count heads to see that everyone that has this number are in this room, well minus a few contacts that call, not text. I ditched my Stark phone when I left, so I couldn’t be followed, and grabbed the burner phone I used when I was running. Once I finally look down at the burner’s screen, I see six different coordinates are shown across the screen. Worried, I start to turn towards Nicolas, Jacob’s friend, but the phone chirps again two more times. I scroll down to the new messages and my worry dissipates. My frown drops for the first time in almost two weeks, and a smile takes its place. Unknown: I did some digging and came up with these. Unknown: Be careful, Lovets snov. Nat. I should have known she wasn’t going to keep her nose out of it. I’m positive that she did this on her own though, without the other Avengers, using her old connections to help me. Something must be floating around underground about me looking for something important. Rolling over to Nic, I start, “Get me a map for each of these. I think we may have a lead.” He raises his brow but nods anyways. “Alright. It’s gonna take some time, though.” 3: 17 AM A nudge to my shoulder is what starts to pull me from my slumber, but it’s the “We found her,” that has me shooting up. Finally.
15 days after the message
Shadyside, OH
2:48 AM It took four full days to plan out the rescue mission. In that time, it was decided that I’d go in alone. It was me Abaddon wanted—it was me he was getting. So, I packed my bags and said my goodbyes to Jacob and Melissa and headed East towards Shadyside. The drive was exactly one hour and fifty-two minutes with me going 80mph down I-78. The compound that’s holding my sister is about a mile in length. Either this place is also storage lot for old train cars, or the man in charge of this hell hole changed some of his standards and started dealing with other countries. Based on the symbols on the side of the cars, I’d guess China, Russia, and maybe Germany; all have known HYDRA bases. The main cement walls stand around fifteen feet tall, while the watch towers stand twenty-two feet. The chain linked and barbed wire fences that surround the place had been easy to get through, only needing a few cuts to make a hole large enough for me to shimmy inside. Now crouched behind a cement wall, clad in my gear, I start focusing on trying to sense where all the guards are. Inhaling,
Six guards in the three watch towers.
Each carrying M&P 15 Sports, thirty-one rounds each, shouldered.
Fifteen guards in the West.
Eight guards in the South.
About eleven guards lingering in the middle.
Each carrying twin 504 Luger’s with twenty-five rounds each, one in-hand, one holstered.
Every soldier has at least one hunting knife on their ankles. Exhale. Well, this should be interesting. Slowly shuffling out from my place behind the wall, I make my way towards an empty train car. Being sure to keep my steps light, in that creepy I’ve-been-an-assassin-for-years type way, and hop inside. Hidden from sight, I let my eyes dart around the all soldiers and their current positions. After taking a deep breath, I steel my features and step out on the other side, landing hard. I start a small projection, For now, guards in the watch tower, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Those on the ground take notice of me a soon as they hear my boots crunch the leaves and sticks beneath me. For a moment nobody does anything, only watching my every move. Taking a few steps, I wave and call out, “Oh boys! Does the big bad wolf have you all on the look-out for little ‘ole me?” The innocent look on my face confuses most of them. For the others, I decide it’s time to pull out my far from innocent Glocks. I point the gun in my left hand up to the clouds and fire a warning shot. With everyone now on their toes and their guns trained on me, I take a few more steps forward. One of the soldiers in front, they all look the same from my distance, yells to me, “You! Drop your weapons and surrender, no harm will come to you this way!” The brainwaves he’s giving off tell me that he’s lying, but I don’t have to be partially psychic to know that. Men like these always lie, it might as well be written in the job description. It’s time I break my streak of not hurting anyone with my powers. It’s been a good couple of years. All while keeping a sly smile on my face, I start digging into their fears. Jesus, where did he get these guys? A fucking playground? It’s the usual: burning alive, drowning, a few hate spiders, getting stabbed in the back, nee— wait. Getting stabbed in the back would be a fun way to kick off this shit show. Watch tower guards, aiming your guns towards the men in the middle is the only way to save them. Man, in forefront tower, save your comrade by aiming your weapon at the middle man on the ground. I cough obnoxiously and nod towards the men under my spell. A few turn around, but the man from before refuses to take his eyes off mine. One of the men flanking him whispers into his ear, I actually let out a chuckle at the startled look in his, from what I can now tell since I'm closer, green eyes. “I wonder what they're gonna do now? Hmmmm.” I reholster my guns and hold up three fingers. “Three.” Mr. Bigshot in front there, thinks I’m bluffing. Well isn’t in he in for a treat. “Two.” The watchman in the middle tower cocks his rifle. I look towards him. “One.” As soon the word leaves my mouth, a loud shot rings out. Fire to save him. By the time my eyes find the spot where the man from before was standing, he’s lying face first in the dirt with a wound the size of a quarter in the back of his head. Everything turns to chaos from there on. Men speed towards me, the ones from the middle closest, but before they can get to me, more shots ring out and 10 men are now dead. The eleven men in the middle have all been killed. Now, I’m going to try to get to that door without killing anymore, do what Steve does and just incapacitate them.
Men on the ground, you all see the compound and the ground around catch flames. Extremely large spiders are also closing in on you, ready to poison you. Fight and knock out the other members in order to keep from being poisoned or burned to death.
Watch tower men, you have been chloroformed. Your body will now shut down and you will be unconscious for the next four hours. Making 23 men fight and knocking out 6 other men out, after killing eleven, takes a lot out of someone. While I hoped the strong-minded people of the group wouldn’t be able to fight off the projection, I expected a few to snap out of it. As of right now, only three could fight it. While most of the men fought in front of me, the remaining fling themselves at me. Evading an incoming blow, I swerve to the left. This puts me directly in one of the others hit zone. He manages to clip me. Thrown off guard, I stagger right into a kick. The blow hits me in the ribs and I wheeze. My legs are kicked out from under me and then someone is on top me. Looking towards the others that are fighting each other, I notice that most are laying on the ground unconscious, but a few had been able to fight the trance dew to my injuries. They shake the haziness away and start making their way towards me. I rip a Widow Bite off my holster and stick it to this man’s back. Bringing my feet to his chest, I activate the disk right as I kick up. He convulses in the air, then continues to as he hits the ground a couple feet away from me. I jump to my feet and swiftly dodge the right hook aimed at my face. Grabbing one by the shoulder straps, I bring my knee up and lead his face into it. I quickly throw him into the other, effectively knocking the two of them down and out. One locks my hands at my sides, so I slam my head into his and grab the Glock on my thigh. When he tries to regain the upper hand, I aim at a kneecap and fire. Doing it to the other when he falls to his back. His cries could be heard from miles away, I'm sure of it. Someone kicks my gun out of my hand. Taking a quick inventory, I still have knives I have yet to use. Bending over at the hip, I slide down and grab one of the knives. When he tries his next kick, I swerve to the right and into someone’s grip. I stomp my foot hard and he yelps, I then throw my head back and hit him in the nose. I quickly twist out of his hold, turning to throw my knife into chest of the kicking guy. I walk over with the intent to pull my weapon from his chest, but I am pulled back and pushed to into the dirt. Huffing, “Okay, you bag of dicks, you’re irritating me.” I get back to my feet, pull the M9A1 from my lower back. When he takes a step towards me, I empty the clip into his abdomen. I release the clip and add a new one before stomping over to get my knife. By the time I have everything holstered, the last of the bunch staggers up. He runs at me, full speed. Bite in hand, I slam it directly onto his forehead. He drops like a fruit fly. I put my hands on my knees and take a couple shuddering breaths. “Fuckers,” I mumble. After checking one last time to see if everyone was out, I rush to the door to get in. It’s locked, of course, so I place a Widow’s Bite on it. After I fry the circuits, I head towards the sounds of Alice’s screaming. “I’m coming.” I whisper under my breath.
Present
New York, NY
Avengers Tower
10:41 PM “I’m coming.” I whisper under my breath. “Okay baby, cum for me.” Bucky’s smoky voice startles me out of my reverie, causing me to jump a little bit. He looks up in question, but he doesn’t stop. Sucking my clit into his month one more time, he pushes me into my orgasm. Bucky stays between my legs until the little shocks of pleasure sizzles out. He turns the water off then steps out of the shower. After he grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist, he grabs one for me and dries me off. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers while I struggle into clean panties. I fall into the soft sheets with a sad sigh. Bucky goes about cleaning up the bathroom. Placing the weapons in a pile by the door, he makes a mental note to take them down in the morning. He throws my suit and his clothes into the hamper. Just as he wipes the mirror, he hears sniffling coming from the bedroom. Either it was because of how comfy I was or something else, I begin to cry. It starts as just small whimpers, but soon escalates to heavy sobbing. It’s at this point that Bucky gets into the bed with me, pulling me into his bare chest. The familiarity of the whole situation has me bawling even harder. I dry heave into the crook of his neck for quite some time. Bucky calls to the ceiling, “FRIDAY, please turn off the lights.” “Of course, Sergeant Barnes.” She replies instantly, the lights dimming to complete darkness in a matter of seconds. He pets my hair while whispering sweet things into my ear. The late-set exhaustion begins to kick in once the lights shut off and my eyes start getting droopy. My sobs become small whimpers again, then into just a few shudders here and there, then stop all together. I play with his chest hairs, swirling my finger around and around. After a while, I stop and press a kiss to his breast bone. “I love you. Please know that,” I utter against his skin. He presses a kiss to my forehead and murmurs, “I do know that, doll. I love you too,” another kiss, “Now try to get some sleep.” With his soothing words and gentle breaths, I manage to eventually drift off into the dream world. Or in my case, nightmare/flashback central.
3 days ago
Shadyside, OH
3:59 AM Her screams ring inside my head. I run as fast as I possibly can towards the noise. As I’m making my way to her, a few remaining guards attempt to stop me. I try to listen to the sound of me firing my gun at them, then reloading the magazine, mask her pain. It doesn’t work. I finally make it to room she’s in and wretch the door open. The tap of keyboard stops the screaming. Abaddon turns around slowly, making a real show out of it. When I finally see his face, his eyes are still as beady and evil as ever. “My, my Mephistopheles...” he pauses for a moment, taking in my appearance with a grin, “My have you grown. Your wings have begun to sprout. You’re almost ready.” I bite the split in my lip, no doubt reopening it, to keep from strangling him with my bare hands. He’s the only one who knows where my sister is. “Don’t fucking call me that, you dick-less waste of human tissue,” I hiss. The insult does not faze him, in fact, it makes him chuckle. “We’ll have to get rid of that mouth of yours when you go through the cleansing. Don’t want you to out-wit Azza, now would we?” Cleanse? What in the bloody fuck is he talking about? Out-wit Azza? What does he mean by th—oh. Oh no. “Where is she, you piece of shit?” His grin only widens, his pointy teeth show themselves. “She is exactly where she’s supposed to be. Right where you’ll be soon enough, my dear.” Just as the words come out his rat snout, the large metal door to my right slides open. What walks in after, is my worst nightmare becoming reality. “Oh, Ali, what have they done to you?” She does not answer, only goes to stand by her creator. The look, or lack thereof, in her eyes is soulless. Her face colder than it’s ever been before. I realize the worst thing in that moment: Alice, my twin, my other half, is no longer with us. She has been cleansed. Her body remains, but Azza has completely taken over. Abaddon leans over to whisper in her ear, more like stage whisper, “Get your sister. I would like to have the full set again by sunrise.” He talks about us like we’re objects, but to him, we are. She starts to walk towards me, pace increasing by every second that goes by. Knowing that there is no way in hell I’ll be able to take her, seeming as her super strength could literally tear me to shreds. I realize then what must be done. I have to take her out. Using my remaining strength, what I was saving for the Devil reincarnated over there, I start to project. You will save yourself if you kneel. She rejects the projection, not caring about what happens to her. She starts to close in on me, her strong grip going around my neck. Looking into her dead eyes, I try again with a different approach. You will make your creator, Abaddon, very happy if you kneel right now. Azza, a member of The Fallen, whose name means “the strong”, now kneels at my feet. Her hand only a memory around my throat. She who carries the power is under my spell. The one carries my sister’s face, my face, must now leave this world. My lip trembled, my eyes burned, but I refused to look anywhere else but hers. She would not die alone. Part of me was going with her. Speaking up, “It wasn’t your fault, sissy. It’s all going to be okay now.” I wipe at the tears falling and continue, “I’ll see you in the next life, okay Ali? Okay.” I blow out a breath, “I love you so much, I'm so sorry this happened to you. Goodbye.” Bang!
Present
New York, NY
Avengers Tower
2:06 AM The gunshot shakes me out of my slumber. I sit up and try to even out my breathing again. That sound and the look in her eyes are never going to leave my brain. It’s like they’re fucking branded in there. I scrub and hand down my face, slowly turning to look at Bucky. The sweetest boy of in all the lands. Despite being a deadly assassin, the man couldn’t hurt a fly. I’m lucky that he chose me. I never thought that anyone would want me, let alone someone as kind-hearted as him. Alice would have loved him... He starts to stir, so I start to project a night in the 40’s with Steve to him. I don’t have a sound enough mindset right now to put on a happy face for 40’s Bucky. I push love into his head, and his breathing evens back out. I get up and pull on one of Bucky’s shirts, then I dig through my junk drawer. When I find what I'm looking for, I open the balcony and sit down with my legs between bars. I light the Marlboro and lean back, trying to see the stars through the smog. I French inhale when door behind me reopens. “I would have joined you, baby.” his voice is soft, in that sleepy kind of way. Leaning up again, I pat the seat next to me. “I know, but you just looked so peaceful in your dream that I didn’t want to wake you.” A blanket fall over my shoulders and then he sits next to me, thigh to thigh—skin on skin. “Yeah thanks for shoving Stevie right into the middle of our date. He really was a great addition.” His small chuckle causes me to giggle. Bucky pulls me close, basically into his lap, and tilts my head back to kiss me. He rests his forehead on mine and asks the dreaded question, “Where’d you go, baby? Will you please tell me what happened?” he was pleading for me to give him something, anything. “That night, before I left, I got a text while you were sleeping...” I tell him about Nat ambushing me on my way out, about the trip to bumfuck Ohio, about Jacob and Melissa, about the men I killed, about my sister... 3:56 AM “...and Abaddon was gone when I turned around. Hopefully he crawled back into his hole of awfulness, I don’t think I can deal with much more of him.” I had chain smoked about five cigarettes while telling my story, my mouth was now exceedingly dry. Stupid cotton mouth. I cough a little before continuing, “One of the guys I killed had a grenade belt on him. I blew the place to fucking smithereens. Azza included.” Bucky grabs my hand for support. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’re going to find him, as a team,” he playfully glares in my direction,” and he’s gonna get what he deserves.” I can only nod. Bucky and I stay out on the balcony until the sun starts to rise. I must have fallen asleep against him, because next thing I know, I’m tucked under his arm in our bed. His light snores lull me back into a deep sleep. We can face the world and it’s shit tomorrow, right now I want to nap with my man, and that is exactly what I'm going to do.