ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕖

warnings: read at your own risk, understand there may be violence and angst

length: 1.1k words

When Taelyn flipped on the radio on the ship, she could hardly believe what the voice was saying. "Anakin, Ahsoka," she whispered, beckoning to the two playing Dejarik. "Come here."

The pair looked at each other before pausing the holo. Anakin rose first, his long strides leaving Ahsoka behind him when he bent down to listen. Clones--and some sith, too, apparently--were mercilessly attacking Kashyyyk for unknown reasons. Taelyn, however, had a sick feeling she knew what those reasons were.

The sith had taken a liking to using wookies as slaves for the places they couldn't be. After enslaving all the wookie on Kashyyyk, the Empire would use the planet as a high-tech base.

"We have to get down there and help, now," Ahsoka stated the obvious, having heard the entirety of the dispatch.

Anakin shook his head, even though he was watching Taelyn put in the coordinates to get to Kashyyyk in the quickest way. "Hold on, Snips. We've got to think this through."

A deeper, yet lighter voice came from behind the three. Taelyn turned to look at Obi-Wan. "Since when do you do that?" He asked Anakin with a smirk. Obi was already pulling on his gloves. "Well? Get ready, this one will be rough. Taelyn . . . you just get us there to start."

"Yes, sir." Taelyn didn't hesitate to grab Anakin's tall frame and pull him down for a quick kiss. "You heard the man, go get ready to kick some ass." She teased.

On Taelyn's other side Ahsoka lifted a brow and smirked, never tiring of Taelyn's stupid quips to Anakin. She dipped down to give her pilot a hug, before winking and rushing off to prepare everything she needed.

Taelyn didn't know when Obi had disappeared, but apparently, he had. Taking a deep breath, she reached up (she had to stretch a bit) to flick the switches above her head. She pulled on her headset and yelled out a warning before slowly pushing a lever forward to jump to hyperspace.

The stars turned into white flashes in the window, and it reminded her of Hoth, the way snow blew past your face. The ship beeped right before it dropped out of the hyperspace, which always gave a jarring jolt. Taelyn let a small gasp loose when she realized that in front of her eyes, Kashyyyk was being torn apart. She could see the fight from outside the planet's atmosphere.

Leaving the ship in orbit, she ran to Anakin's quarters, where she knew he still was. She burst in, almost missing the fact that he was painfully obviously shirtless. She gulped, keeping her eyes up. "You can't go down there." Taelyn finally spit out what she had originally come in to say. "It's bad."

Anakin gave a small smile and shook his head. "You know it's not something I probably haven't dealt with before. Besides, the wookies need our help. You know that." He took a few steps toward her. Hey, she didn't remember closing the door--

"I'll be fine, Taelyn. . ." His voice dropped, but not too low. Anakin had backed her into the door. His shirt that in one hand, his other using one finger to lift Taelyn's chin so her eyes met his. "I'll come back, I always do."

Abruptly, Anakin backed away, leaving Taelyn flustered and speechless.

"Go say bye to Ahsoka, then. Go on."

Taelyn and Ahsoka's interaction was simpler but full of friendly love. It was mostly filled with hugs, 'be safe's, and a quick secret handshake at the end. Taelyn and Ahsoka each had high respect for the other, but put them in a room alone for an hour, and they might turn back into giggling padawans. Their relationship was well nurtured, even if it wasn't romantic like Anakin and Taelyn's.

All four (Obi-Wan included) met back up, discussing the plan. Taelyn would fly them in low, and the three Jedi would do what they did best: save lives. After they had at least incapacitated the sith, backup would arrive and take them where they needed to go.

The plan was going so well, nearly too well. Taelyn liked it like that. Seamless, no fatalities yet. After having been given the signal by Obi, she opened the hatch. He jumped on (literally) with a smile on his face. "That wasn't so bad," he laughed. "Rather easy, really."

Taelyn laughed as well, keeping an eye on Anakin and Ahsoka. They were both running toward the ship, each done and ready to wait for more help to arrive.

Then, a dark figure with pale skin dropped behind Anakin. Taelyn panicked and looked down. There were no ships on her radar! Whoever this was had legitimately come out of nowhere. Before Ahsoka could stop and shout a warning to Anakin, there was a red saber through the very center of his chest. Anakin's mouth opened in a small "o" when he saw the red protruding from his chest. Even from her distance, Taelyn could see the burnt tissue around the edge of the saber mark what had happened. Ventress turned off her lightsaber and Anakin's body fell to the ground limply, in ways a live person shouldn't be able to bend. "ANAKIN!!!" Taelyn screamed out, leaving the controls of the ship unattended while they hovered. Her voice was in nothing but pure, raw, emotional pain. "You promised me!!" She sank down against one of the hydraulic poles that kept the hatch open, and the tears wouldn't stop coming now that she had started. She was too busy sobbing her heart out when Ahsoka made one final signal that the group had agreed was only to be used in extraordinary circumstances. Ahsoka meant to have Obi pilot the ship instead of Taelyn. In a split second, she had decided Taelyn needed out of here. Even if Ahsoka wasn't going to come with.

Obi-Wan allowed one single tear to fall as he looked down upon the battlefield where Anakin lay, and where Ahsoka would find him soon. Ventress' sabers grew a bright scarlet against her white skin. Ahsoka drew her sabers, ready to go down, but not without a fight.

Obi hit a red button in the cockpit before running back to the hatch to pull Taelyn back. As the hatch closed, the only thing Obi-Wan could hear were the screams Snips was making tight before she's see Sky Guy again.

"Hey, promise you'll stay here, right?" Steve gave the small figure in the king-sized bed a stern look.

Finley nodded with a weak smile. The cold rag on her face fell into her eyes, and Steve pushed it back into place with a chuckle, his fingertips brushing the soft skin on the bridge of her nose. "I wouldn't do anything that stupid," Finley remarked, biting her lip at the comment she was about to make. "I can't, not when you're taking all the idiocy with you."

Steve looked up at the ceiling as if he could see the reasons Finley would say such a thing. "Oh, right. Have you been hanging out with Buck?" He chastised, smiling and shaking his head. He was reluctant to leave her here alone with how high of a fever she was running—103.2 degrees—but he had a mission that was mandatory to his record with S.H.I.E.L.D. She had been sick for the past few days, her fever only climbing and her symptoms getting worse. But the fact that she was cracking jokes had him a little more confident.

"Captain Rogers, Director Fury just called and he said—he asked me to specifically say this—'Get your ass to headquarters.'" Jarvis' voice came from above their heads, causing Finley to cringe at the loudness.

Steve sighed and rolled his eyes, making a face at Finley. She laughed, knowing he was already annoyed with Fury for giving him a mission in the first place. "I've got to go, sweetheart. Be sensible, and ask Jarvis if you need something," He kissed the frail woman, winking at her as he pulled away. Her already hot face was turning a cherry red.

"Bye, Steven," she whispered, already missing him though he hadn't left.

Steve looked back at her with his striking blue eyes right before he closed the door, he couldn't stall any longer.

Even after napping, drinking some water, and napping some more, Finley was impatient. She wanted Steve back home, and she was worried about him.

Jarvis had brought her some crackers, it was all she could stomach. The eating kept her busy and kept her from thinking about Steve. But she was cold, and she wanted more, maybe the extra food would keep her warm.

She couldn't be cold, though. She had a fever. A fever of over one-hundred-three degrees. Cold wasn't possible. None of the blankets, the heater, or the action of discarding of the cold rag on her forehead. She was still shivering, the hair in the back of her neck standing up, accompanying goosebumps and chattering teeth.

"Mrs. Rogers, where might you be headed?" The A.I.'s voice startled her while she pulled her feet to the Aiden of the bed. "You promised the Captain you'd stay in your bed."

Finley sneezed. "I'm going to take a shower, it's sub-zero temperatures in here," she coughed out. Surely the warm water would help rid her of the normal cold symptoms as well.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea-"

"Shut it," Finley said shortly, gripping the wall to stay upright.

"Mrs., I really think-" Jarvis tried again, but Finley was already in the shower, basking in the hot water. She ran her fingers through her short black hair, helping the water through the strands and down her body. She didn't feel sick, anymore. Rather she felt rejuvenated, fresh.

The satisfying thunk of turning off the water was slightly disappointing, but she was ready for a fluffy towel. Finley yawned, stepping over her old clothes.

Then, it hit.

Her temporary relief didn't even fade, it was just gone. Her head- ooh, her head. It was a skull-imploding headache. Her temperature: skyrocketed. She weakly whimpered and pushed her forehead against the tile back splash of the bathroom, which were no soothing feel. With a blind and clumsy hand, she reached into the cabinet for a thermometer, soft groans escaping her irritated lips. Why was the pain so sudden?

A masculine, British voice was heard through the buzz of her pained head, but Finley couldn't quote make out the words.

It was hot, "This was a horrid idea. Too... hot," she breathed, slouching her left side against the bathroom door frame. Slowly, black spots narrowed in on her line of vision.

One last voice could be heard, before she fell unconscious, she wasn't sure whose it was, though it could've been hers. She didn't know.

"Help."

Captain America rushed into the tower, urging Jarvis to make the elevator go faster. He had some stories to tell to his wife, new ones, fresh from this mission. The disembodied voice was oddly absent, though. Steve thought nothing of it.

That is, he thought nothing of it until he could hear the British tone coming from his room. Finley's room. He furrowed his brows as he pushed the already ajar door to a fully obtuse angle. There he saw her, pale skin wrapped in a soft purple towel, breathing hard in a frenzied state. Her dark hair was plastered to her forehead, where a full grimace of pain was carved.

"Finley!" The captain yelped, dropping to his knees next to her, and he frantically began trying to get her to look at him. He soon came upon the realization that she wasn't even conscious. "Jarvis, why didn't you help her?!"

Jarvis stopped his droning, repetitive script. It seemed the artificial intelligence had panicked, and gone into where he was comfortable. Stating lines of code. "Sorry, Captain."

Steven angrily shook his head and pulled Finley into his arms as he stood up. Her limp form was a natural heater against his skin, too hot. He laid her back in the bed, hoping he could help her sweat it out while he checked her temperature.

106 degrees.

The soldier accidentally crushed the thermometer in absolute frustration. What the hell was she thinking?! If her fever climbed any higher...He put his elbows on his knees and tucked his head in so he could nervously pull at his blonde locks. "Finley Rogers, you beautiful idiot," he groaned. He didn't know how he would react if she had a heatstroke.

Before Steve even knew what had happened, he heard vague voices in the back of his mind. He was moved out of the way and remembered fighting someone. He didn't know why, until later, when he finally became aware of his surroundings once more.

He was in a chair, to the right of a hospital bed. Finley's hospital bed. He didn't know how long it had been, but a quick glance at all the machines showed that his wife was back to stable, normal temperatures. Her pale skin against the white sheets was every, and Steve didn't like it, not one bit. The slight flush of her cheeks made it a little more bearable. He looked at the way her chest rose and fell, just happy that she was breathing, and okay.

Finley coughed, and Steve's eyes flicked up, ready to help if he needed.

"On your left," she whispered, a smile gracing her lips, and her eyes just barely open, a tired and glazed look over them.

"You're lucky I love you," he shook his head and reached his large hand over to encase her small one.

"Remember, the goal is to capture him, not to kill." Nick Fury's voice came through the earwigs that Scarlett and her team were wearing. "Scarlett,” he specified with a warning in his tone, “we will not have a repeat attempted murder, like last time."

And frankly, Scarlett agreed. But last time, the evil snake had the audacity to flirt with her, even after he had been knocked to the ground, nearly unconscious. It was his little comments that had allowed him to escape yet again. He had made the sorceress angry enough that she had lost her focus.

Despite Scarlett and Loki's . . . "chemistry,” the team had decided she was the best opponent for the god. She was. Scarlett was the only one with enough power in her to even match Loki's tricks and spells. The only one strong enough.

So there she was, with her team, on her way to their next tip on where Loki was. They had to stop him before he caused any more destruction. Steve walked up behind her, putting his hand on the small of her back. "You okay? More importantly, are you ready?"

Scarlett nodded, leaning into her boyfriend. "Yeah. This will probably be the biggest fight we've had in a while. But I guess I'll listen to Fury and . . . not kill Loki. It's the most I can do, I suppose."

"Yes, it is," Steve affirmed, and ran his large hands down Scarlett's arms, trying to calm her down. Her tenseness dissipated when his hand enclosed itself around hers. "But you've got this."

Scarlett nodded and sighed. This was going to be a long ride.

~*~*~

The Quinjet touched down, and the adventure began. Scarlett could immediately tell that Loki was there. She could just feel it. The essence of Loki's magic made the hair on her arms stand on end; it was a chilling feeling, really.

"Be careful, and stay hidden," was all she advised her team (and Steve), before dashing off, following the feeling of the cold magic.

Scarlett had run quite a way before she felt the full force of the magic. There he was. In this land's abandoned city.

There were skyscrapers reduced to piles of rubble, and old supermarkets with their light-up signs on fire. Loki had already struck. But he hadn't left yet. That's why the force was so strong. It gave you the same feeling as smelling wet peppermint; Scarlett should know. She'd had to deal with it enough times.

Scarlett silently padded along, careful to watch her step. Stray metal was everywhere, and she didn't need to get tetanus. After all, she was still human. She stepped over a large block of concrete, disgusted to see it stained red. Loki was evil. She took another step, and she heard a yell

"Help!" The voice was a man's but it sounded like it was ripped and torn. Pain. You see, pain is hard to describe. But this, this was like this man had been pulled apart and pieced back together with a wooden post and barbed wire instead of a gentle needle and thread.

Scarlett responded like bees to honey. She jumped over the fallen billboard, finding her way to the voice. She tripped on a shopping cart that maybe an old sweet lady had been pushing a few minutes ago.

But this man that was crying out, maybe she could still save. And finally, when she thought she had made it, she made just enough time to see Loki, standing alone, a sadistic smile on his face. A dark look befell her face immediately.

“Where is he?" Scarlett hissed, and balled her fists, ready for anything.

“Oh, but my dear Scarlett.” Loki started pacing, his smile turned to a smirk. "Who might you be referring to? Me? Or maybe . . ." Loki's hand left his chin to sweep his arm out, toward Scarlett. The same pained yell reverberated through her skull, all around her instead of in one direction. Not that this surprised her, now that she knew, but how he did he do it without her being able to feel his magic in her head?

"You son of a bitch!" She cocked her head. "How'd you do it? How did you do it without me being able to feel it?" Magic took to her palms, the signature lilac color weaving around her fingers.

Loki smirked, yet again. The corners of his lips were pulled taut; he was enjoying every minute of this. "Oh, you know. Magic."

"You're sick."

“Maybe, but there are some diseases that can't be cured, after all." Loki twirled his fingers, and it was that moment that Scarlett realized he had tethered her in the space she occupied. She couldn't move.

Apparently, Loki could see the panic spread across her face because his smirk turned into a fake look of concern. "Is the dear Scarlett stuck? Pity. She can't defend herself now."

That ticked Scarlett off just enough. She could defend herself just fine, thank you. The girl let out a rageful yell, and her eyes matched the color of her magic. Loki couldn't help but notice what a pretty sight it was when she was angry. However, it was dangerous. He ducked out of the way just in time the purple blast hit where he had been standing mere seconds ago.

“And . . . there it is.” Loki let out that breathy laugh and the evil twinkle in his eye shined brighter.

Scarlett wrinkled her nose. "Gods, you disgust me."

"Goal met."

Scarlett whipped her hand toward Loki, and this time he wasn't clever enough to dodge it. The spell hit him square in the chest, and when he doubled over, Scarlett knew she'd cast the spell wrong. It wasn’t meant to hurt him. Just make him unable to move.

She dashed over to Loki and hesitantly rested her hand on his back, before pushing him over. His face—striking features, she just noticed—was scrunched up in pain, and his fists were clenched. "Loki?"

His eyes flew open, and he rolled away, before propping himself up on his elbows. "I thought you were better at enchantments than this," he grunted, scrunching his face up again.

"What do you mean?” Loki looked at her, with remorse in his eyes. But Scarlett didn’t know why. She pressed again. “What do you mean, Loki?!” Scarlett knew when a spell was cast on Loki, he could tell what kind of spell it was, just because he was that advanced.

“It’s a charm. It makes me attack people.”

Scarlett stumbled over her next words. “I mean, it’s not like you don’t already do tha–”

“People I love,” Loki finished, tired of fighting the spell already. "Run."

"If the spell only makes you attack the people you love, I'll be fine. I can stay here and keep you from attacking anyone you actually do love—"

Steve rushed through the murky hallways, trying to locate the source of the screams. He'd recognize them anywhere, anytime. It hit him like a bullet every time he heard the soft soprano turn into a shredded, broken howl.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he whispered as he ran, hitting a few thugs with his shield. They were no match for him if they were between him and his girl. "Hold on for a little bit longer, angel."

He cringed as another shriek filled the eerie, echoey, and cold hallways. Whoever was causing this---Hydra---would pay. He sped past a cement door, not thinking anything of it. That was until he heard the screams come from behind him. The sounds seeping under the cracks, where there was a freakish blue glow emitting from. His eyes widened, he knew that as Kory's magic. Whoever was hurting wasn't giving her enough time to defend herself. And he knew that hurt Kory more than anything. Feeling helpless. He backpedaled and studied the door, trying to figure out the best way to open it. He let out a broken sigh of exasperation when she screamed yet again. This time, he could hear the consecutive sobs.

"Stop!!! Please! I'll do- I'll do anything!"

That was all Steve heard before another shriek ensued. "I'm coming, angel!!" He yelled, which wasn't his brightest move. Her attacker now knew he was there. "Hold on for me. Hold on."

Steve stuck the edge of his shield in the tiny crevice between the door and the wall. Then, using it as a pry bar, he pushed the shield forward. The cement door scraped against the cold concrete floor, creating an ear mangling noise. The door opened enough to allow Steve to slip through, where he came face-to-face with a tall, muscular man with dark, devious eyes.

"Hello, Captain," The man grinned, with ugly yellow teeth before promptly being knocked out cold by Steve's vibranium frisbee.

The captain fell to his knees and dropped the shield, before crawling over to the limp form on the floor. Blue tendrils curled around her, in a protective shield. He reached out, prepared to scoop her into his arms if she was unconscious. She wasn't.

"No! Don't- don't touch me!" Kory screeched, flinching away from Steve's desperate touch. Kory's eyes were wild, her breathing fast and shallow, and her whole body trembled in uncontrollable fear.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Steve said, gently taking Kory by the hand and holding it firmly. Their eyes met. "Listen to me. You're safe and they aren't going to hurt you again. I'm here now. Trust me, I won't let anybody hurt you."

Steve almost expected Kory to yank her hand away in panic, but she didn't---instead, she relaxed a little, tears forming in her eyes, and let out a breath. "I . . ."

"It's okay," Steve said, forcing a smile, and pulled Kory into a hug she didn't resist. "It's okay, I'm here."

Kory let the sobs overtake her body, and she melted into Steve's arms. "I- I thought you had forgotten about me. It's b-been days!" She whispered, looking through teardrop-covered lashes.

Tony: *has no clue what it is because he's too high tech, even though he's older* wtf is that?

Peter: ...

Peter: It's a tape.

Peter: Old people like you used them.

The water was icy and felt like a thousand needles slamming into Elloise's skin as she was pushed into the half-frozen lake. She shot up but grunted as the Soldier's metal fist landed on her cheek, snapping her head to the side with more force than one should be able to handle. She had no time to recover and dodge. The Soldier had already grabbed her by the shoulders, and kicked her at the ankles, forcing her under the ice-cold water.

The Soldier grinned at his success for. . . for what, exactly? Never mind. Elloise fought with everything she had, thrashing her arms and legs against the Soldier practically sitting on top of her, keeping Elloise below the surface of the lake. She was running out of air, her lungs burning as she struggled to get up, to breathe.

She felt the gloved hands of her attacker yank her back above the surface. She gasped for air and then tried to exhale, but all that came out was violent coughing that shook her body as the Soldier held her up.

"Deep breath now," the Soldier hissed and pushed Elloise back underwater. "For Hydra."

The Soldier could see the water around the woman's head becoming stained red with where he tore her skin, brought her pain. Instead of pulling her out again, he pushed her further into the sand under the waves. Her arms thrashed, and her hands clawed at his bare forearms, leaving deep red scratches, but he didn't feel them. He only saw her face through the tinted aqua.

Her face.

"I see you've still got some moves, Sargent," A bright, happy voice, followed by a cheery laugh as someone in a bright blue dress spun in front of him, hands intertwined with his. His hands.

The Soldier blinked, and his focus was lost, long enough for Elloise to rocket her torso out of the frigid water and cough up a lot of it. "Bucky, please!" She hacked out between gut-wrenching coughs that made her whole body convulse. "You know-"

She was only able to get out so much before he seized her neck again and pushed her back down. He recognized that feeling, the feeling of her skin, even if it was bruised and torn. Bit he didn't know her. He couldn't.

A nervous giggle sounded, and shining eyes were in front of his before she closed those pretty grey eyes and pressed soft lips to his nose before following supple fingers to his neck.

"Buck!" The Soldier had lost his focus once again, found that the woman had stopped moving, and another man with blonde hair and blue eyes had yanked him away to pull the lady out of the water. She wasn't even shivering. Nor breathing. Just pale, with blood dripping down her left cheek and her arms. "Buck, what did you do...?" The man's familiar voice sounded desperate, weak, worried.

The Soldier sat back on his knees, thinking of what had just happened. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the baby blue dress on the woman he had just tried to drown. After a moment of contemplation, it fit.

Dancing with Elloise, every Friday, until he got drafted into the army. She had been so disappointed, especially when she found Steve was going, too. She wouldn't have either of her boys at home to keep her company. She wouldn't have anyone to cook for.

That was until she decided to become a nurse.

She and he had had quite the falling out the night she had told him. The next morning, they left to go to war. She didn't see him again, until she was treating him after he had been captured by Hydra, and experimented on by Zola. She had to step away and have the other nurses help, she had felt so bad, being unable to help. And tears streaming down her face as she watched.

They went dancing again, out between the tents, the following Friday.

And then the train.

And then back here.

He just tried to drown his best friend. His girl.

He was back to Bucky, but his actions were still there. Elloise still lay shivering under Steve's frantic attempts to warm her. She had lungs full of water and skin that felt like ice, fresh from the North. "Come, El. Come on." Steve begged, uncertainty lacing every inch of his voice.

Bucky crawled his way over, slowly and hesitantly. Steve's head shot up, and he instinctively pulled Elloise away from Bucky's grip before making eye contact with his friend. Bucky's heart shattered at the thought that this was his doing. He had put her in this vulnerable position, where she was unable to move, even breath, or open her eyes.

"Steve, please," he whispered, not taking his icy blue eyes off the captain's. "I'm... I'm me again. Please, please let me help her."

Steve hesitated before gently letting Elloise spill out onto the ground between the two of them.

"Oh, god, El. I'm so, so sorry," Bucky muttered and shook his head before carefully beginning CPR. Chest compressions. Chest compressions. Chest compressions. Breath. His hands shook when he finally stopped she still hadn't moved an inch. "No, please. No..."

As a last-ditch effort, Bucky leaned down to give Elloise one last assisted breath. The contact turned into more of a kiss. One Bucky thought could be goodbye. The last thing that she would have seen would be her best friend through murky, red water. And felt his hands around her neck.

Steve's quiet voice came from where he sat. "She's gone, Buc-"

Elloise coughed, the water from her lungs traveling to her mouth, therefore into Bucky's. He sat up in shock, sputtering before he tipped El to her side. She hacked up the remainder of the liquid and then promptly laid back down tiredly. Dying took your breath away. "Well." She rasped. "That was... q-quite an experience. Love you, Buck." She shivered and winked with an aura of exhaustion, depleted energy.

"Right," Bucky watched silently after that as El fell asleep right in front of him. On the very rocks he had attacked her on.

And she was a nimble-fingered woman. The seamless repairs on my suit showed that. They held, were nearly invisible unless you were looking for them, and I hadn't needed a new suit for years now since she came to the tower. We weren't at the tower now, instead, we were on an undercover mission as a couple, the new couple in small-town Kansas.

Why such an unknown, fly-over state? You might ask. And the funny thing is, that's exactly why, Charlie thinks. No one would suspect such a place. SHIELD's scanners had picked up on some overly radioactive disturbances here. Fury didn't even want to check it out, he thought it was just the native 'crazies' of the state screwing around. Charlie thought—and still thinks—different.

I fished a noodle out of the water on the stove. "Charlie," I responded simply, letting her know I had heard. I waited a moment to come to bearings with the noodle and tossed it against the wall. It fell to the floor, leaving a wet stringy mark on the wall. I nodded. They needed a couple more minutes in the water.

"When do you think this storm will let up?" She continued.

I shrugged, though I knew she's couldn't see me. "Who knows? In the file, it said to watch for extreme weather, and I think this storm could end any second, just as well as keep going for a whole day."

Charlie sighed, an annoyed one as well as one of recognition. "Alright."

I smiled and shook my head, pulling two bowls down from the small cupboard. With my height, it didn't take much effort to reach that top shelf. Much unlike Charlie, with a small five-foot vertical. That was the main reason I was the one preparing food, other than the fact that Charlie can't boil water without burning something. To be blunt.

I scooped the noodles into separate bowls, leaving a bit left in the pot for leftovers. With a gentle hand, I scooped the homemade red sauce over the tender carbohydrates. I brought the dishes out to the low table Charlie was doing her puzzle on top of.

I sank to the floor in silence, careful not to spill the meal. I watched Charlie's slim fingers graze over the pieces, a frustrated scowl on her face. "What's the matter?"

"I can't find this piece," she pointed to the framing of the puzzle, where a singular edge piece was missing. She huffed and placed a middle piece of it near the bottom corner. "And I've been looking since you started making—what was it? Ah, spaghetti."

I chuckled and handed her a bowl that she took with eager hands. "Your food, milady," I said in jest while digging into my sustenance. In a moment, after attentively searching the low table, I picked up a piece. "This the one?"

She looked up from her food, a little bit of sauce on her chin. She wiped it away quickly and inspected the piece before excitedly snatching it by the flat edge. "Thanks, Steve! Thank goodness, I think I would've gone crazy had I not found it."

"Had I not found it," I corrected around a mouthful of spaghetti. I set my fork in my bowl and picked up another piece, and began to help Charlie complete the puzzle.

We sat in blissful silence, eating and constructing the jigsaw, little by little. The rain pounded against the waterproof metal roof of the old house. The pitter-patter of the harsh rain was somewhat comforting until a loud clap of thunder interrupted it every so often.

We were down to the last couple hundred pieces of the picture when a blinding flash of lightning illuminated my hand when I placed a piece of the puzzle. As if right on cue, when the thunder followed, the house powered down.

The lights went out, the heat turned off, the refrigerator's hum had disappeared. All of the house's intermittent sounds were gone, the ones we didn't know were there until they weren't.

The stupid rain continued as if nothing ever happened.

Silence.

"Steve?" Charlie's frightened voice came across the table. "Are you still there?" Her soft soprano was even quieter than usual. Her panicked tone. Why would she be panicked? It's only a lights-out moment.

"I'm here," I assured her through the suffocating Stygian. Think, Steve.

"I can't- I… I can't see," Charlie breathed, stating the obvious. We both jumped as lightning flashed outside the rain-splattered windows.

I bit my tongue to keep back a snarky retort. I couldn't see, either. Then it hit me, as I remembered a previous mission that required climbing through dark ventilation shafts.

Charlie was claustrophobic.

This looming, foreign darkness was like a heavy weight on one's chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I mentally facepalmed at the remembrance, and let out a deep breath. "I'm going to come to sit with you, Chars, alright?" I narrated, so my movements wouldn't scare her.

I moved anyway, unsure if she responded or not. I kept my left hand on the table, so I knew where it was, preventing injury. I reached my other hand out slowly, and I felt Charlie jump when my hand slid over her knee. "I'm right here. I'm going to see if this old shack has an emergency generator hidden somewhere, or at least some candles. Would you like to come with me?" I extended the friendly offer so she wouldn't feel alone the moment I left.

She exhaled a shaky breath and coughed at the self-imposed lack of air.

"Breathe first," I advised.

It took a moment for her to recompose herself, and her hand grasped mine. "Please. Just don't leave me," she whispered. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and lightning flashed outside once more, interrupting the unwanted caliginosity. In that one moment, with her face illuminated with the eerie and stormy light, I saw the absolute terror in her soft brown eyes.

"Charlie," I said softly, and I heard her hair swish as she whipped her head to look at me. "Charlie, I'm right here. I'm not leaving you."

She must've nodded because she stood up with me. "Okay."

I took a deep breath, and her phobia felt like it was contagious. I dropped my hand to finding hers, shaking and unsure. I ran my fingers through Charlie's, intertwining them as her anchor. "C'mon," I led her to the dark hallway, where the bedrooms and closets were. I had forgotten about her for a moment and stopped abruptly.

She ran into me with a small squeak. "Steve!" Charlie gasped, swatting at me. I could practically feel her scared glare.

"Sorry," I mumbled, pulling open the wooden closet door. Charlie's hyperventilating was the only sound I could hear while I ran my fingers blindly down the shelves. Only towels. "Crap!" I cursed, feeling a splinter from the poorly made shelves lodge itself into my middle finger.

"What? What is it?" Charlie rushed to say, her grip on my hand cutting off circulation at this point. "What happened? Was it me? I'm sorry. . . "

"No, Charlie, it wasn't," I muttered, pulling the hand connected to hers up to pull the splinter out. to reassure her, I placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand before closing the door gently so it wouldn't cause a loud, startling noise. "Gee, if the power were on, I'd be able to see much better," I sighed with the quip, dragging her along with me to the next door. This one held several (lots) different kinds of flashlights. LED railroad lights, little tiny keychain lights, or just your average-looking light. I scooped some up and reached for Charlie's other hand. I could feel her wide eyes on me when she shied away at first.

"It's me, Charls," I nodded in the dark and pressed a small penlight into her soft palm before clicking the button. She could see me now, and I could see her. I brought my fingers up to push some of her light chestnut hair behind her ear.

Charlie shyly smiled and clasped the light with both hands, leaving mine free again. "Thank you, Steven. Sorry I'm such a child," her smile faded with her last words, and my face dropped. Is that how she thought she appeared, with the simple, logical fear?

I thought of something that might make her feel better immediately. "I'm scared of cold water."

"What?" Her confused tone matched her facial expression.

"You're scared of being confined, which is logical," I shrugged before making eye contact again. "I'm scared of cold water, like being surrounded by it. It reminds me of going into the ice. Worst experience ever. Zero out of ten, would not recommend," I smiled with the joke, as did she.

"You talk of it so freely," She laughed, leading me back to the table where we sat before. "Maybe you're right. I suppose I'm lucky I didn't get thrown into a frozen ocean, like you. I'll stick with my fear of small spaces, I guess."

Charlie dramatically slurped up a noodle. "Puzzle time."

Avery opened his eyes, and immediately felt his head pounding with pain. It was so bright. Where was he? He could see dark figures appearing in the light, and he blinked again, moving to rub his eyes.

Clink.

Moving to rub his eyes... apparently that wasn't going to happen. Something was holding his wrists, something cold.

Clink.

He tried again, to no avail. His ankles were chained, too. That's what it was, he discovered after his eyes finally adjusted to the light. Chains. The figures... they were people. People in bullet proof vests and white lab coats. But one. One was dressed in a nice, formal suit. Maybe even a tuxedo.

"It's the kid."

Avery heard the man speak, a deep, low tone.

"He's the one we could catch, sir—“ a white coat answered the man with a frantic and apologetic tone.

The man waved his hand. "No worries. None at all. This is even better.” Avery couldn't see it, but he could practically hear the sickeningly sweet smile forming on the man's mouth. Whatever he was planning, it wasn't good. Not at all.

Avery made a weak attempt to escape, trying to pull his arms off the wall behind him. The metal cuffs made a loud clang against the heavy chains, and everyone looked up.

He could see now. He could see the whites of each of the scientists eyes, scared, frightened. But... it wasn't for themselves. They were no longer worried about being punished for not grabbing one of the actual Avengers. They were terrified for him.

And that was frightening all in its own.

"Ah, you're awake!" the man said cheerfully, sauntering over. "Good to know, Avery."

Avery glared, trying to recognize the man's face. Well, he recognized it, but he just... just couldn't place it. He spat at the suit-clad man with the little saliva he had in his dry mouth.

The man looked up at Avery, disgusted. "Not going to be cooperative? Well then.” Streaks of pain flashed across Avery's vision as he was struck by the man's hand. "We're gonna have a bit of a problem."

Avery gasped for breath, chest heaving at the intense pain. He squeezed his eyes shut before reopening them. It shouldn't have hurt that much. How weak was he?

The man smiled in satisfaction. "Wondering why it hurts so much, pretty boy?" He sneered, and turned to face the room behind him. As if he were simply teaching a class, not abusing a teenager, he asked, "Can anyone tell me why he's in so much pain?" He pointed to a scientist who had shakily raised their hand.

"We injected you with a serum that amplifies your nerve endings, as well as your pain receptors," the white coat whispered, in an ashamed and hushed tone.

Avery looked up with wide eyes. That couldn't mean... no, they wouldn't. Not to a kid. Not to a kid.

The man seemed to read Avery's face. "Oh, we would, pretty boy. But not if you give me answers."

That’s when it clicked. The tone of voice, the face, the actions.

This man was none other than Alexander Pierce.

Avery decided to pretend to comply and give in at first, though he knew it would come back to bite him in a moment. "What do you need to know?" He rasped out, his normally projective voice nothing more than a breathless whisper.

"Where's Nick?" Pierce growled in Avery's face, before poking him with something rather sharp.

He hadn't even given Avery a chance to answer as the pain pushed a wave of oblivion over him, black spots clouding his vision. Avery gasped curled away from the pain naturally, only to tug on the tight restraints.

He couldn't get away from it, he was stuck. He panted heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could will the pain away. It was only then that it occurred to Avery that he was shirtless, his earned wounds would be available to the eyes of prying scientists.

"Where's your adoptive father?" Pierce snarled and poked Avery again, who let out a whine of absolute pain. It hurt, it hurt so much more than it should. "Where's Nick Fury?"

He had to stay strong, he needed to. He couldn't give anything away. "I don't know! I don't know," he said. Well, scratched out.

"I think that's a lie." Pierce frowned, voice going soft for a moment. "What do you say we go easy at first?" The head man waved a scientist forward that had three syringes with needles attached.

Avery squinted, trying to figure out what they were.

There was no need. "This—this is truth serum," Pierce held one up, and then pressed it into Avery's neck, though the boy squirmed as much as he could. The little prick felt like a fly bite timed a thousand. Avery cursed, his voice full of absolute pain and dread. Pierce smiled a Cheshire smile of satisfaction. "And the other two are more pain serums. We'll use those if you still don't cooperate."

Avery shook his head. He didn't want to do this. He knew where Nick was. But he wasn't going to tell anyone. Especially not Pierce.

After living with Fury for so many years, he had undergone a lot of training. Which included building up an immunity to truth serum.

"Where's Nick?" Alexander asked politely, sitting on the edge of one of white coat's desk.

In hiding, the voice in his head said. In hiding. "Dead!" Avery spat instead, ignoring his altered instincts. "You killed him."

Pierce's face dropped into a grim glare. "I'm going to ask one more time. And then the pain serum." He gestured to the shots. "Where is Nick Fury?"

"Dead," Avery hissed weakly.

"Alright then," Pierce said simply, picking up one of the needles, holding up to the light. The amber liquid inside shone like a topaz, adding to the terrifyingly calm effect that Pierce was trying to force onto Avery. The boy shook his head, shivering with horrible anticipation of what was coming. He didn't want it. He didn't want it.

But he got it anyway.

The needle ripped into his neck like it was lead pipe instead of a small needle. He yelled out in pain, not bothering to stop the tears that began to form. It hurt, so, so, much. The pain was excruciating. And yet it was only the second of three.

"Oh... our dear boy can't take another one, can he?" Pierce said sweetly, though Avery would have to be stupid to think it was a real question. The scientists shook their heads, they knew he couldn't. Not without passing out.

Unfortunately in this case, this was a boy raised by Nicholas Joseph Fury.

"He'll have to," Pierce finished with a growl, stabbing the second needle harder than the first.

And, oh my, did it do its damage.

Avery couldn't even scream, it hurt so much. It felt like he couldn't breathe, and all the whitecoats had to watch as he gasped for unreachable air. Well, not unreachable. Impossible to feel.

"Stop, please," Avery cried, the teen reduced to a whimpering child with a simple few needles. "Please..."

"Where is Nick?" Alexander demanded again, getting into Avery's face, ignoring the trembling of the boy. "Don't you dare lie to me! The director of SHIELD is not that easy to kill!"

"Dead," Avery whispered, head hung.

"Liar," Pierce hissed, and brought a small rectangular box out of his pocket. A lighter. He lit the box, the orange flame easy to see against the scarily white blur Avery saw. He met the boy's eyes before holding the miniature blaze under Avery's chin, forcing a sharp gasp, and him to look up. "Where is Fury?!"

Avery hyperventilated, his whole body shaking in hurt and shock. He closed his wet eyes. The tears that dripped down his face shown like dewdrops on a spiderweb. What a pretty sight, in the wrong circumstances. Avery could smell the flesh beginning to burn, the searing pain hitting a moment later. He screamed a bloodcurdling scream, only stopping when his voice was lost.

Everyone knows a burn under normal circumstances hurts, a lot. But with the serum... it was a whole something else. Unworldly.

Pierce pulled the flame away, with a satisfying click as the flame died. He grinned smugly before harshly squeezing Avery's neck, cutting off his air and destroying the freshly burnt skin even more. The boy was only so tough. He had to give in.

"Ready to speak coherent words?" Alexander asked, before lighting the box once more . . .

"That's enough," the super-soldier said quietly from over Nick's shoulder. "For all of us."

Nick buried his face in his arms, leaning his torso over the table in the cold underground of the rebuilding SHIELD. Most people thought the infamous director of the earth protection agency was an unbudging, emotionless, unyielding, diehard of a person.

And most of the time he was.

Except for when it came to the boy. This boy he had raised, trained, and shared meals with. He had come to love the boy like a true father would. And the boy treated him in return, in the right respects, always.

He didn’t sass back like a normal teen. He didn't storm off to his living quarters. He didn't sneak out. He was a trooper, he was. And Fury had let Pierce get to him.

Natasha looked between Steve and Maria, sharing the parental feelings that Nick had. They had grown to like the kid. But not the same way Nick had.

Nick closed the laptop, pushing it over to Maria. "Boss?" she asked softly, quietly, kindly.

Nick didn't respond. He simply looked up, staring at the eagle-shaped logo in front of him. "He got what he deserved," he whispered angrily, thinking of Pierce. Now that he knew who had taken Avery, he wished he could've been the one to pull the trigger instead of the Black Widow.

Steve nodded, and looked at the floor. He looked back up at Natasha, cocking his head toward the door.

She hesitantly patted Nick's shoulder, letting her small hand rest there before following Steve out. She glanced back, only letting her eyes lay on the shuddering and shaking balled form in the corner for half a second.

Nick waited until he heard the door close before meeting Maria's eyes and then letting his rest on the boy as well.

"Avery," he said quietly.

The boy with light hair looked up, with wide, scared, and empty eyes. "Please leave me... it hurts, don't talk to me... don't touch me," he rocked back and forth in a ball, the several trays of food beside him untouched.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Fury," Maria said softly.

But the dark skinned man just shook his head and sighed. "I can't, Hill."

The boy hadn't told Alexander a word.

The X-Men had arrived the compound a day before. The rest of the Avengers, save for Steve, Vision, Wanda, Sam, and Natasha, had yet to arrive. Steve and I had helped the mutants move in, due to a collaboration on a very, very annoying and ongoing mission. Our two teams had been chasing this anomaly for years, and for some reason Tony had just decided to agree to conjoin.

"Hank...Kurt...Alex...Scott," I greeted each one as they sat down sluggishly. With a small chuckle I stood up, telling Friday to get out the coffee machine and start running it. "Jet lag catchin' up to ya?"

Alex grunted in response and laid his head on the bar, tired. Scott looked to me, at least, I think he did, with a nod, then copied his older brother.

I smiled empathetically and pulled out a few mugs from the cupboard. "Oh, we'll need lots more coffee today, Friday," I muttered as I realized there were seven more people who wanted coffee today. "At least seven more cups."

"Yes, ma'am," Friday replied with her Irish accent, and I could hear Tony's mechanics whirring behind the walls.

Friday's disembodied voice seemed to have startled Kurt, because he looked at me with fear, scooting a little closer to Hank, who laughed.

"Is she a mutant, too? With weird ventriloquism powers?" he whispered to Hank, who just laughed again.

"No, Kurt. That was the building," he explained politely, not shaming the blue-skinned boy. "Mr. Stark has advanced AIs, Artificial Intelligence systems. Miss..." he trailed off, glancing to me, trying to remember my name. I opened my mouth, but he held up a finger as it came to him. "Dylan. Miss Dylan called this AI's name Friday. So if you need anything, just ask the walls."

I nodded, impressed with the way he worded that, and set out the six full mugs of coffee in front of each of them. I added two more when Wanda, Jean, and Sam woke and came in to join us. Wanda and Jean sat down, talking about their similar powers, while Sam stood, leaning against the counter, waiting to see how the newcomers would react to my usual morning initiation. Alex looked up and reached for his cup of coffee but I glared at him, and he retracted his hand, confused.

"You..." I pointed at Kurt, who had a surprised look. "...Don't drink coffee, right?" He nodded, surprised by my accurate guess, as I slid the cup that was in front of him to the left, in front of Logan. "You drink it for the taste, it doesn't affect you otherwise," he nodded as well, hiding his own confusion. I pushed a cup in front of Hank. "Mr. McCoy likes it with a spoonful of creamer." I poured a bit of creamer in, handing him a spoon, setting it down when he didn't take, in shock. I pushed two cups of coffee in front of the Summers brothers, and handed one to Sam. "You three drink it loaded with sugar and creamer. And you two," I pushed the final cups of coffee to Jean and Wanda, "drink it straight."

Mystique waltzed in, in her human form, just then. She sat down at the last stool of the bar. "What?" she asked me, while I was staring at her in indecisiveness. Then she did a double take at the shocked looks on her companions' faces, except Jean's, who could read my mind, and Logan's, who was hiding his confusion well. "What's up with them?"

I ignored her comment, and Wanda laughed along with Jean. "You're not a coffee drinker," I decided, dumping out the cup I had set for her. "You drink tea, like me. Except without the sugar.” I quickly whipped up a second cup of tea, besides mine, and set it in front of her, and her face flickered with shock before taking a sip.

"Just how I like it..." She frowned.

Jean chuckled. "She guessed it. All of it. By the way you look, and act," she sounded astounded.

I nodded and was about to speak again, when the Professor himself rolled in, along with Steve. "And we...?" he prompted with a kind smile.

I smiled back. "...Don't drink coffee," I finished, and walk over to greet them. "Good morning, Steve, Professor Xavier." I gave them each a hug, the best I could with him sitting down in his chair.

In a fluid motion the three mindreaders in the room glanced at each other, and had a quick conversation.

"You still feel uneasy around me? Around the girls? After all these years?" the Professor asked with a small smile, and I could see out of the corner of my eye that Wanda and Jean were still telepathically conversing.

I was shocked by the question, but hesitantly nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do..." I trailed off and avoided his eyes.

Look at me, please.

I jumped immensely and closed my eyes in frustration. "That, exactly, is why I feel uneasy."

He continued talking into my consciousness, disregarding what I knew he could see. Let's see, you don't like the idea of someone seeing your thoughts, reading your mind? Because of...oh, interesting...interesting...

"Charles..." I threatened, though it was an empty threat. "Please, stop."

As if I could feel him leave my body, he stopped talking into my mind. I saw a flash of guilt cross his face, but it disappeared as quick as it had shown.

"That's why," I said softly, barely audible. I knew he had seen.

"That killed the mood, rather fast," Steve spoke up from by Sam.

"Sorry," the Professor apologized, and then rolled around to 'park' next to Logan. "But you know what could uplift the moment?"

"I believe I do," a deeper voice came from behind me, and a pair of hands covered my eyes. In a mix of instinct and surprise, I drove my elbow back into the gut of whoever was behind me.

A grunt was heard, and the man's hands knocked lightly against my face. I recognized the feel and whipped around with a gasp. "Bucky! I'm so sorry!" I set my hand on his shoulder, my other covering my mouth. "I'm sorry!"

"I deserved that," he said, pained, and chuckled. He hugged me as soon as he had gotten over the minuscule poke in his stomach, and nearly squeezed the life out of me.

"Bucky, I'm sorry!" I laughed, breathlessly. "Please don't kill me by asphyxiation!"

"Don't worry," the Professor grinned and spoke up. "He has no intention of hurting you. It's good to see that you've gotten over your previous years," he complimented my boyfriend, and Bucky looked up, a small smile on his face.

"Thank y-" his eyes widened when he saw Logan, and he stopped talking abruptly. His hands dropped from my sides, and he stumbled backward. "No..."

Logan frowned for a moment, not an entire change from his usual demeanor according to Jean.

I looked between the two of them. "James, are you alright? Actually, you're both James, sorry. Bucky?"

Logan seemed to remember something as he dropped his coffee mug, almost falling off his stool.

I could feel my breath start to quicken, and I tried to calm down. "What's going on?" I asked desperately.

The Professor shook his head. "We can't get in. Something's going on..." Wanda and Jean shook their heads, too.

Bucky gripped my shoulder tightly, as if he needed me for support. Which I knew very well he could stand on his own. In a flash, I heard his dropping feet as he ran off, to who-knows-where. I looked to see where he went, but he was gone already. Everyone was staring at me and Logan in confusion. Unfortunately, I only knew as much as they did.

In a quick and rash decision, I stomped over to Logan and grabbed his collar, not minding the broken glass of the coffee mug lodging itself into my feet. "What the hell is going on?" I snarled, pulling him off the stool, which fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Dylan!" The Professor scolded in surprise, but I didn't listen. Something big had gone down between the famous Wolverine and the notorious Winter Soldier. Something very—

Dylan.

I cringed, bringing my free hand to cover one of my ears as if that would help. "Stop, Charles..."

No, let him go. Let him be. I'm allowing you to do this before I do it for you. I can't stop anything he does to you if he becomes angry.

"Charles! Get out of my head!" I shouted out, not loosening my grip on Logan's shirt. Suddenly, I felt six sharp claws pressing into my sides, threateningly. I gasped and held in my breath, as if any movement could impale me. Me, being the stubborn idiot I was, didn't let go...still. I needed to figure out what was going on, what had happened.

"Let go of me, Princess, and maybe I'll tell you," I heard Logan's low growl, for my eyes were still screwed up right in a grimace from Charles. The blades pressed a little harder.

Dylan, came Charles' voice once again.

Shaking, I let go, sinking to the floor. I sighed in relief when I heard the blades slide back into Logan's skin. The dull pain I had felt in my feet was gone, Wanda must've removed the glass.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, gladly taking Steve's hand to stand up. He gently hugged me, asking if I was alright. "Yeah," I answered softly.

Just then, the rest of the missing Avengers rushed into the kitchen. "Friday told us something was going on," Tony blurted, breathing hard. Natasha was leading everyone else, she had probably gone to meet them.

Vision came through the ceiling. "Yes, is there a problem?"

"I can't do this right now," I breathed, pushing out of Steve's arms, and running off. I had to find Bucky. Sam was going to come follow me, but Steve held his arm out.

"She needs this," the Professor said, and Steve nodded in agreement.

I ran through the winding halls of the compound, until I had to stop to breathe. I heard small gasps from the room next to me, Bucky's. I must've gone on autopilot, because I didn't remember telling myself to go there.

I pushed open the door, slowly, but making enough noise so I didn't startle him.

But I couldn't open it all the way.

Bucky was sitting right there, tearing at his hair, mumbling to himself, and what surprised me most, that made my heart break, were the wet tear tracks trailing down his cheeks.

"James..." I whispered, slipping in the door, closing it softly behind me. "James, it's me, Dylan. Dylan Kloster. Where are you?"

I'd only had to go through this a couple times before, this was a full panic attack, worse than his small ones he had every so often.

I heard him audibly gulp and he choked out a name. "Jasmine Falls."

Okay, that was a start. "I'm at—" I was cut off by his strangled sob. "James, I'm at the Avengers Compound, can you join me there?"

"Kill them," the man with the book said.

"Both of them?"

"James?" I asked again, trying to keep a steady tone of voice. "Can you join me?"

"Both of them. I don't care about the child."

"I..." he breathed, looking up to meet my eyes. But then he flinched and my progress was lost.

"Logan!" The wife called out, crying, begging. Itsu. That was her name. "Please, spare me! Please!"

But his job was to ignore those pleas, draw out the infamous Wolverine.

"LOGAN!"

And it was over.

"James, you're at the Avengers Compound, with me, in your room. I'm Dylan," I felt a tear slide down my cheek as I tilted his head up. It hurt to see him so vulnerable and broken. "I'm Dylan Kloster. Your girlfriend. Please. Come back to me. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."

The soldier waited in the shadows, he was always told to wait until he could hear the cries of those who found what he had done. He hated it, but he did what he was told.

"Itsu? I'm home, and have news," the gruff voice was heard from inside the cabin. "Itsu?"

Bucky clenched his hands around his head, trying to block out the sounds that were in his head. I shakily grabbed onto his hands, bringing them down, fighting against him. "James, look at me."

The cabin was silent, and he saw a figure dashing out the back door, carrying a bundle. But it wasn't the Wolverine seeking revenge on whoever murdered his wife...

The soldier ignored it. It wasn't his mission.

"Itsu, my darling," The soldier heard the whisper through the breeze of the air. "I'm sorry... I love you..."

"I love you," I told him, and his eyes snapped open, red, irritated. "I love you."

In the dry silence that filled the air as I stared into his eyes, watching him slowly come back to me, I felt my own letting tears slide down my cheeks, over and over and over.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching up to wipe away the wetness on my face.

I shook my head, grabbing onto his cold metal hand. "Don't apologize."

Then I pressed my lips to his, before pulling away.

But instead of turning away like he usually did, he guided my lips back to connect to his. He kissed me, long, slow, and deep. I let my eyes flutter closed as I reciprocated, not minding the salty taste in his lips. It seemed he didn't mind the taste on mine as he pulled me closer, sending a shiver up my spine when he dragged his calloused hand down my arm to my hip, keeping me in place.

He pulled away, leaving me wanting for more, but pressed a vibranium finger to my kiss-swollen lips.

"Stay?"

"Always."

--

Tony slowly rolled his way out of bed, tired, but unable to sleep. He made his way to the kitchen, where FRIDAY already had a cup of straight black coffee ready for him. Turning the corner to his workshop, he took a sip of the liquid and spotted you.

You're sitting at a stool, leaning over the desk in the middle of the room. You had needle nose pliers in hand, working on a metal sculpture.

Tony stood in the doorway, as a dad does, and watched. He watched for a decent amount of time, sipping the whole while. He wanted to scold you for not being in bed, but you were so peaceful, working on what you loved.

Sooner or later, you fell asleep at the desk, with the sculpture off to your left. Tony chuckled once he was sure you were asleep. What a mischievous thing, staying up so late. He padded to stand beside you, to see what you were working on.