AnonymityIsFun

Karli.

A shaky breath escapes from your lips as your eyes slowly fall to your bloodied hand. Your legs buckle, bringing you to your knees. You fall to the ground, clutching your midsection. "Karli?"

"Poor, poor, Sunshine," Sharon condescendingly coos. She sighs with mock remorse, "If only you'd listened, it really didn't have to be this way."

"You're working for Sharon?" you weakly ask, clutching your stomach, doing your best to ignore the chilling sensation of blood trickling out of your wound. "What about wanting to change the world?"

"She made a good point," Karli stands before you, bloodied knife in her hand. "Once a SHIELD lackey, always a SHIELD lackey. Even just a dozen of you, people wouldn't go hungry. We'd have no need for the GRC or any government really. One world, one people."

"A SHIELD lackey?" you question. 

"Save it," Sharon snarks, cutting you off before you can tell Karli the truth, "I told her everything she needed to know about you."

"What did you say to her?" you seethe, flexing your other hand.

Your hand trembles, unable to remain steady enough for combat, any flame you muster flickers in and out like a candle in the wind. You can't defend yourself. Not like this. 

The pain surges once more, you double forward, one hand still desperately clutching the wound, the other rests on the concrete floor, trying to hold yourself up. 

Sharon circles you, taunting you like she's the predatory and you're her prey. This is it. She's got you exactly where she wants. Finally, she would win.

Vindication swells in Sharon's ribcage, inhaling and exhaling it with every breathe. You didn't know it, but this was about so much more than what she could take from you. It was proving something to everyone, to herself even. That she won. That, in the end, she was the last one standing. It should've been her. It should've been her all along. And tonight would prove that. "I told her the truth. I told her that you'll always be loyal to SHIELD, to Nick Fury. That you wouldn't never see the world like we see it."

"Nick Fury saved my life." You know it's the wrong thing to say. You should disagree, especially if what Sharon told you about Nick was actually true. You shouldn't be loyal to a man who betrayed you, but you can't bring yourself to believe it. You can't believe that the closest thing you had to a father figure saw you like everyone else did. Because then what? What would happen if he saw you as nothing more than a weapon for war, a tool for victory? So you refuse to believe it. You choose to remain loyal, because what other choice is there? You choose to believe in his faithless love one last time. "I never would've seen the light of day without him."

Sharon scoffs, rolling her eyes like you're nothing but a thorn in her side, "See? I told you."

"And how - how exactly do you see the world?" you grimace, speaking more to the floor than to either Sharon or Karli. 

"I see a world where we don't need superheroes, where the people can help themselves. A world without SHIELD. A world where we don't need you."

You place one of your feet flat on the ground beneath you, using all your strength to try to stand. You get halfway up before you lose your shaky footing and crash back to the floor, "This isn't how you help people, Karli. You have to know that. What you're trying to do, it's dangerous."

"Is it? Or are you just too scared to stand up? Too weak?"

You manage to bring yourself to your knees, looking Karli in the eyes as you tell her the truth, "You risk putting power in the wrong hands, Karli. Trust me. I've done it before. Fought the good fight for people who didn't deserve it. I know - I know that you want to believe that you're doing good, but this isn't the way to help people."

A twinge of remorse needles at Karli's skin at seeing your deteriorating state, but she had to do this, and it was either you or her vision of the world she desperately wanted, "It's the only way to help them."

"And what's to keep Sharon from turning on you the second she gets what she wants?" you ask her. 

It's what happened to you, after all. You'd given power to people who took advantage of a person who didn't know any better. You'd given everything to SHIELD, and they'd bled you dry. They tore you apart and discarded you. You never stood a chance, not then. It was only in hindsight that you saw you were never meant to come out unscathed. 

You knew better now. You wouldn't allow Karli to feel the pain of the scars left just beneath the skin from when they pulled you apart. 

Karli takes a long stride before you, her even tone wavers, showing a hint of defensiveness, "Sharon needs me." 

"And when she doesn't?" you prompt.

Karli's eyes shift toward Sharon with a precarious glance. At best, it's a shaky alliance. At worst, it's Sharon deceiving Karli to exact her revenge. 

You take their tense moment as another chance to escape. You plant your foot again, using momentum to swing yourself upright. You stand on a shaky leg, adrenaline beginning to pool in your stomach. The pain ebbs and flows with each and every movement as adrenaline flows through your veins. 

You barely make it a single step before you're knocked back down by the sharp pain. You gasp, a pained yelp leaving your mouth as you crumble again. 

You’re not even sure what you’re trying to run to. You know they’d catch you even if you made it out of this forsaken room. You’re just trying to get to the door. To get to a weapon. To do anything except lie there and watch your freedom be stolen from you all over agin.

No, you’re not sure what you’re running to, the door, a weapon, a hiding spot. You have no idea.

But you do it anyway.

You do it because you promised you’d fight with everything you had left.

And if they find you here, lying in a pool of your own blood, you could only hope both Sam and Bucky know that you fought with everything to get back to them.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Sharon taunts, watching your pathetic attempt at an escape. "Here, I'll give you a ten second head start. Go on." 

She's right, you know. You won't get very far like this. Blood seeps out of your back and stomach, weakness is slowly creeping up your arms. From pain or shock, you're not sure. You're in an underground labyrinth. No way to talk to Sam or Bucky. For all intents and purposes, you're in pretty bad shape. It doesn't look good for you. 

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus, to not allow yourself to succumb to the worst case scenario. 

For a long while, you resented the person that you once were. Naive, gullible, a person who believed in everyone, who believed in good. Some days, you hated her, you blamed the person you were for the person you became. You blamed her for where you ended up. 

Right now, you needed that person. You needed the person that believed in everything, that everyone believed in, the one that was never afraid to fight. You need her. 

She would get up. 

She would fight her way back to her friends. 

You look to the side of you, a piece of loose scaffolding beside you. It's almost exactly like the pipe you used to fight with in Madripoor. You watch it for a beat too long, willing it to do anything. It gently rocks and rattles against the floor, inching its way closer to your outstretched hand. 

Hope dies as quickly as it bloomed when you feel another gun press into your shoulder. A voice behind you tuts, "Ah ah."

"Perfect timing," Sharon praises. "And I guess, now that we've got you here, why don't I walk you through how the rest of your night is going to go?" Sharon speaks as though this is the most entertaining night of her life. Like she's the ringleader about to host the most grand circus the world has ever seen. This is all one big game to her, you realize. She wants to draw this out, to make it hurt. Sharon freely gestures to Karli, "You, of course, know Karli."

"And maybe you'll remember Batroc," Sharon gestures to the man looming behind you. You turn your head over your shoulder, recognizing the man that escaped both Steve and Sam all that time ago. "I'm sure he'd love to meet a friend of Steve Rogers, best friend of Sam Wilson. You know how much he loved those two."

He winds his hand in your hair, gripping it tightly. You jaggedly hiss as you scramble to your feet as he raises you up off the ground by your hair. "Do you realize what your friends have cost me?"

"Go to hell," you defiantly spit.

"You first," he darkly chuckles, tossing you back on the ground. 

"And," Sharon gestures to herself as you land in a heap at her feet, "I'd hope you'd remember the person that you and your friends abandoned."

You look up, once again trying to pull yourself up, "So that's it, huh? You got it all planned out?"

"Yeah, I do. And to think, we could've been a team."

“I will never help you.”

“I didn’t really think you would.”

"What do you think's going to happen, huh? That you'll just kidnap me and Sam and Bucky won't go looking for me?" you rhetorically ask. "That I won't spend the rest of my life trying to get away from you? I will never help you," you sneer. "I will never, ever stop fighting for my family."

"See, I thought you might need some incentive," Sharon crouches down before you, "Do you think even a super soldier could take a bullet between the eyes? What about Sam? Sarah? Poor AJ and Cass?" 

“They trusted you. We trusted you," you bark.

Something inside you breaks, snaps, back into place or further into a million little pieces, you're not sure. It fills you with a rage you never wanted to feel. It burns in the pit of your stomach, taints every bit of light and good you thought resided within you. You've spent your whole life trying to be more than the monster you were told you were. And with those words, you're not sure that you are any better.

“And don’t you worry, I’ll keep their trust. I’ll walk out of here, panicked. Maybe I’ll tell them I heard a gunshot, but I don’t know where Sunshine went. I’m so scared," Sharon fiegns terror, her voice trembling. "The three of us, we're gonna make such a great team! We'll search high and low, leave no stone left unturned. And still, no trace of you.” Sharon nonchalantly shrugs, “After a few months of tirelessly searching, some breadcrumbs will start appearing. A yellow shoe with drawings will pop up on the freeway. Maybe it’ll be those friendship bracelets. Now that, that would be heartbreaking.”

“You can’t do this,” you spit, planting your feet firmly on the ground again. 

“But I can. And I am. And you want to know the real kicker?”

She waits for you to reply, but you remain defiantly silent keep trying to stand up. 

“The real kicker is that I was just going to kill you. Put you out of your misery, if only because your incessant meddling was really starting to annoy the shit out of me," Sharon rants at you. "It would've made it so much easier - but then you got Nagel killed. And just like always, you ruined everything. And if I can't have the Sunshine Serum, I'll just have Sunshine."

You clammer your way back onto your knees, speaking through labored breaths, "You can't have me."

"Honestly, I'm a little disappointed, I expected more from you than boring cliches."

"I'll kill you."

The words slip out of your mouth without a second thought. You've never killed a person before. You've prided yourself on that. Blood has never stained your hands. In this moment, you don't care. You want Sharon Carter, you want the Power Broker, dead. It hits you like a ton of bricks. It hurts that you've sunk so far. The mighty have fallen. You've lived long enough to watch yourself become the person you never wanted to be.

And what makes you hate yourself even more, is that you really, truly mean that. 

"Wow..." Sharon chuckles, dragging out the word. "Big talk coming from Sunshine."

"If you touch any of them, if you hurt my family, I'll kill you without a second thought." The threat sounds weak when you can't bring yourself to fully stand. You prop yourself up against one of the wooden crates in the room, using it as a crutch you help pull yourself up. 

Before you can fully sit upright, you see Batroc looming over you in your peripheral. He looks to Sharon, then back to you. Batroc looks down at you for a long moment, watching you, examining you, no, it's a look that's far more sinister, he's appraising you.

He suddenly announces, "I want triple."

"What?"

A jagged hiss leaves your mouth as his hand winds in your hair, hauling you up to your feet again. He presses you against him, the cool metal running down your cheek sends a chill down your spine, "I want triple."

Sharon quirks an unimpressed eyebrow at him, "Or what?"

The forced ultimatum sets him off. 

One of his hands still wound in your hair, his other arm presses itself against your windpipe.

He presses his forearm tighter against your throat, suffocating you. You claw at his arm for much needed breath.

He lifts his arm higher, dragging you to the very tips of your toes, shoes barely scraping against the concrete floor. Still, Sharon looks unbothered at the life slowly draining from you. 

He flexes his arm around your windpipe, "You let us walk or I kill her now and no one gets her."

Sharon takes a moment, her mouth twisting at the sudden blackmail. Without a word, she turns her gun away from you and to Batroc. An expert marksman, she hits him in his temple without missing a beat. No negotiation. No remorse. It's as cut throat as you've heard the Power Broker can be. You shriek when you feel his blood splatter against your face. His arm falls limp on your throat, dropping you in an instant. 

You fall to the ground, gasping for air as Batroc's lifeless body falls behind you. You cough, a metallic taste flooding your mouth. Your breathing comes faster and faster as your lungs burn and ache from the lack of oxygen. 

Sharon approaches your convulsing body crumpled on the ground. She watches as your fingers twitch toward the pipe again, poising for an attack. She tucks her gun under her chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers. "Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Do you really want to bet that your powers are faster than a bullet this close to your throat?"

"You didn't let him kill me," you point out through your coughing fit. 

"Don't sound so pleased," Sharon rolls her eyes. "After everything I did to make sure tonight went just right, I'm not going to let anything get in my way. It all came together so beautifully, I'm not going to let Batroc of all people ruin this for me."

"You still won't get away with this."

"Sure, I will! And let me tell you, it was easy. It was so fucking easy!" she brightly exclaims. "General Ross did all the heavy lifting for me after he had you erased."

"What?" you whisper, frozen where you sit. You're not sure if you heard her right, but the revelation still hits you like a ton of bricks. For years, you'd lived with the fact that you'd hurt Tony so terribly he'd erased any trace of you and your mark on this world, that he erased any identity trace of an identity you'd built. You lived with the fact that he never forgave, nor would he ever forgive you. For years, you'd lived with the thought that you'd betrayed him so terribly that he erased you, he'd washed his hands of you. "It - it wasn't Tony?"

"Tony?" Sharon bitterly chuckles. "Tony was off living his life with his family, ignoring everyone else, leaving the rest of us for dead."

"It wasn't Tony," you whisper to yourself. You chuckle through your shaky breaths, tears welling in your eyes, "He didn't hate me."

"How nice," Sharon sarcastically remarks. "Your friend didn't hate you."

You look up at her, still caught up in the relief of a weight you'd carried for years now, "He didn't hate me."

"No, Tony Stark did not hate you," Sharon offers, mildly annoyed that your relief is overshadowing the pain she was trying to inflict on you. "But I did have a question for you."

You wordlessly grunt in response. 

“How does it feel? To go from SHIELD’s plaything to the Avengers plaything, I mean even if I didn’t take you, the UN owns you, Ross will be on your ass before you make it outside. You’ll always just be an asset, you're just a weapon. That’s gotta sting, doesn’t it?”

It does sting. It's always stung that you've spent years getting tossed around. Never meaning anything more to them than what you could do for them. It's an ache you don't think will ever truly go away. You school your expression, not wanting to give Sharon the reaction she's fishing for. 

Karli's head snaps up in that moment, a confused expression forming on her face. "What did you just say?"

"Stop talking, Karli," Sharon warns, her finger dancing over the trigger. "We're about to get everything we ever wanted, so shut up."

“Wait, SHIELD owned her? But you said she was a SHIELD lackey, you said she would always be loyal to SHIELD,” Karli frantically repeats, her eyes darting between you and Sharon, “What does that even mean?”

“What difference does it make?" Sharon seethes. "I’m helping your cause, not her.”

“You said she was a supremacist. That she wanted to get rid of us,” Karli accuses, pressing the subject with an urgency you hadn't seen from her since she watched a friend die before her eyes in Latvia. Karli looks at you, desperation flooding her eyes, "You - you said you were loyal to SHIELD."

You shake your head, "I was loyal to Nick Fury, I never said I was loyal to SHIELD."

Sharon petulantly sighs, shaking her head at Karli, “You couldn’t have just kept your mouth shut?” 

"You lied to me," Karli hisses through her teeth.

"And you stole from me. After everything I did for you when you got to Madripoor," Sharon reminds her. Sharon turns to you, disappointedly shaking her head, "She reminded me of a younger me. I took her in. I gave her an opportunity. And she betrayed me without a second thought." 

"You said if I helped you get her then we were even," Karli forcefully states. "You said we could change the world. Together."

For the first time since she's cornered you, Sharon takes her gun off of you. She pivots, swinging the barrel to face Karli. "What? Did you honestly think you were going to walk away from this? After you stole from me?"

"Sharon," you demand, halfway up on your feet. 

"Honestly, I was hoping you'd get caught, end up on the Raft, but if you want something done, you have to do it yourself," Sharon rants. 

Karli sharply inhales, staring down the barrel of Sharon's gun, “But you said-”

“Yeah,” Sharon unapologetically winces. “I lied.”

“Sharon, don’t!” you shout, unable to get to your feet before she pulls the trigger.

You don't think. You just do. You don't make it to your feet. And you're not quite sure the how or the why, if it was all divine intervention, or just the last ounce of power you stored somewhere within you.

All you know is Sharon trembles with rage as Karli stands before her completely unharmed. 

Karli’s eyes open after a moment and still no impact. Her eyes blow wide, the bullet curved downward, now embedded into the concrete before her. She looks at you bewildered. “You saved me?”

Your breathing comes harder and harder as you finally manage to prop yourself up against the wooden crate beside you. Your heart races like it's going a mile a minute. Sweat beads across your forehead, pain and adrenaline overwhelming you.

“Why?” Karli demands, her fists clenched and almost shaking, with unbridled rage that you can’t quite comprehend.

She’s angry. Angry you had the audacity to defy the archetype she’d built of you in her mind. Angry that you saved her, and by doing so shattered every ounce of contempt she had for you. Every justification she had, gone. She stabbed you in the back and you saved her.

“You’re just a kid,” you pant, darkness starting to envelope the sides of your vision. “We were both just kids.”

"As touching as that is, I'm about done here." Sharon raises the gun again, but this time you sloppily throw your body weight against her, with just enough force to knock the gun out of her hand. The gun clatters against the concrete. Sharon grapples with your weakening body for a moment before she shoves you back onto the ground. You fall in a heap, pained groans leaving your mouth as pain sears through you. Your hand reaches out, only to clatter against the cool gun metal. 

Once again, you don't think, you just do. You reach for it without a second thought. You sit on your knees, gun in hand and pointed at Sharon. Even as darkness starts to envelope the side of your vision, your anger wins out, "I warned you, Sharon." Sharon chuckles, not believing for one second that you'd actually go through with shooting her. "Do it, then. Kill me."

The gun is heavy in your hand. It weights down more than just your shaky hand, it bogs your spirit down. You feel yourself unraveling, something coming undone deep within you. You wonder the look in your eye was the same broken look you'd seen on Sharon's face at the start of the night. She'd lost her way. She'd gone down a path from which there was no coming back from. If you pulled the trigger, was that going down the same path? Would you permanently lock away your old self with one bullet? 

You think about that little girl in the picture you'd saved from before. It was you. You just couldn't recognize yourself. You'd spent years trapped, begging to be let out. That little girl pleaded every night, tears streaming down her face, screaming until her voice was completely hoarse. 

Like Bucky said, there was nothing that girl did to deserve being locked away, caged like an animal. You can't stand the thought of that little girl trapped at the back of your mind, begging for you to let her out. She deserved so much more than that. You can't be the person that seals away that little girl again. 

You just can't do it.

You can't bring yourself to pull the trigger. Your hand trembles in a way that has nothing to do with the blood loss, and everything to do with the fact that you can't bring yourself to do it. You can't kill her.

You knew how to use a gun, Natasha once showed you.

You knew that your family was in danger because of her.

You knew that this would be the end of it all.

And still, you can't do it. 

You toss the gun to the side, out of her reach. This wasn't you.

She was right, you couldn't beat her. Not like this.

She laughs again, taunting your inability to beat her at her game, "I knew you couldn't do it. You're pathetic."

"No," you wheeze, shaking your head, "You just can't have me."

Her eyebrows furrow as she stalks toward you. Before she can, you focus every ounce of energy, every cell in your body, every glimmer of power you could muster. Every fiber of your being screams at you, telling you to stop.

The dark spots in your vision grow, deepening with each moment you use your powers to stop the airflow to Sharon's lungs, you quite literally are sucking the life out of her.

A quiet, choking sound comes from Sharon's mouth. Oxygen seeps from her lungs, slowly dragging her to the edge of consciousness. She reaches for her throat, grasping for the air that simply won't come. 

Sharon sinks to the ground, her face turning an unnatural shade of red. It shouldn't be this easy for you, it shouldn't be this easy to hurt someone you used to call a friend, and though it makes you hate yourself, it is. It's that easy. 

You watch as the life bleeds from Sharon's face, until she slumps down onto the ground. 

Karli sharply gasps, taking a hesitant step towards Sharon's unconscious body. Her eyes flicker to you, "Is she...?"

"No," you definitively shake your head, slumping down onto the wooden crate. You can feel the last of the adrenaline and anger fueling you dying your veins. You've done it. You've truly given everything you had. Blood, sweat, and tears. All while holding onto the last part of the old you that you still had. "She's just unconscious." 

And just like that, it's done. It's over. You've won. That was it, it was finally all over.

You could rest now. 

Your breaths come slower and slower, and you're positive your heart has never raced like this. 

Clarity was in death, and you'd never been this close before. A stillness washes over you, a calmness you'd never known. You now understand why Tony was so still, so at peace in his last moments. There's a serenity in the moment as it all stops. The tension in the room fades. And the quiet lulls you to a dream-like state. It washes over you like a lullaby.

You could finally know peace.

Karli's eyes tear away from Sharon, only to find you on the brink of unconsciousness too. 

You hear panicked breaths as Karli rushes over to you. Your head lolls up to look at Karli, her eyes frantic when a pained yelp slips from your mouth as she places pressure on the wound. With all the force you can muster, you take Karli's hand removing them from the wound, you warmly smile up at her, "Karli, you have to go now."

Her eyes snap up to your sickly gray face. She swears that she can see the life slowly seep out of you. "What?"

"Go," your voice barely a soothing whisper, you gently pat her bloodied, "They'll find me."

"You'll die before they do," she spits back, blood stains her hands and face as she immediately continues applying pressure to the wound. 

You don't truly believe it, they won't find you, not in this underground labyrinth that you'd found yourself lost in. They won't find you, not until you've bled out.

But you knew if by some miracle that they did find you down here, Karli being here would cement her fate. They'd blame her. She'd never know freedom ever again.

And in spite of everything Karli had done, this could be her chance. This could be her way out.

And if it came down to you and the child sitting beside you, it was an easy choice to make. Sam would understand. Bucky would understand. You're sure of it. They had to understand. They just had to.

"I'm tougher than I look."

She glares at your attempt at a joke, pressing down even harder. Blood doesn't stop seeping out of the wound. She knows you're about to run out of time. She can't just leave you here, no one would find you in time. If she doesn't leave, she can't go get help. She almost forgets to factor in the fact that she's one of the most wanted people in the world right now.

"Just shut up and let me think," she demands.

"Go, Karli. Please, while you still can."

"I can't leave you," she whispers, tears streaking down her face.

Each tear clears a path of the blood on her cheeks. Karli had seen death before. She'd watched her friends die. Watched her family slowly wither with each passing day. This was different. This wasn’t just by her own hand. Not just out of cold blood.

But to probably the last person on the planet that truly believed she could still see the light. To the person that still believed she wasn't a villain. To the person that told her there was another way. To the person that still believed in good, not just in her, but in the world. 

There was nothing to do but sit there and watch the flame flicker in your eyes, watching the light slowly slip away.

Perhaps it was wrong for you to smile at the person who'd quite literally drawn first blood, but you did. You knew you'd done it. This was her making a choice, refusing to be the villain. 

You look up at her and see the little girl she never got to be. You see a child blinded by the treasures of war that no one ever seemed to win, lost in the illusion of the morning glory that never came. She'd seen past the mirage and freed herself from the trance.

It was confirmation of the good you knew was somewhere inside Karli. And though you may never know true freedom, you were content that she would.

You'd shown her that there was no morning glory, no justice to be had in war. If that was your legacy, then so be it.  

"I didn't know," she whispers, choked sobs slowly overtaking her, wracking through her body. "I swear I didn't know."

"I know, it's okay," you gently shush her. "It's okay." 

"You can't die. Please," she pleads with you.

"I won't," you promise as though it was entirely your choice.

After all, that's what it all boiled down to, wasn't it? A simple choice. The choice to allow yourself to succumb to that darkness that called out to you like a siren. The choice to slip away and embrace the inevitable.

You didn't get a lot of choices in your life, but this one, this one was entirely your own. Just one choice.

Life or death.

And, like most of the people you knew and fought alongside, you'd thought about your death, your legacy. You were all acutely aware that you'd have to go at some point. And you knew that this would be a good way to go. It was everything a person like you could ask for and more.

A hero’s death.

This could be your legacy.

It was everything and more.

And yet, still not enough.

Not when the feeling of Bucky’s touch still lingered on your skin. Not when the way your name fell from his lips was still echoing in your mind.

Not when Karli kneeled over you, begging you not to add to her list. You swore that the only blood that would stain your hands was your own, but now they were staining hers too.

And not when you promised Sam.

Your surroundings slowly fade away as you sink further and further away into the darkness. You can't quite put your finger on what's happening until you see a blurry figure approaching in your peripheral.

The darkness calls out to you like a siren trying to drown you in a stormy sea. You try to fight it off, but it's so enticing. It's just so enticing. You're so tired. You can't fight the current, it doesn't matter how much you want to. You keep sinking. Further and further away. It lulls you further down. It envelopes you in the warmth that feels so good against your cold hands.

You lose the light at the surface, until there's almost nothing left. 

Until you hear a voice bellow, "Karli!"

The Twin Flame Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛