What's left to say?
These prayers ain't working anymore
Every word shot down in flames
What's left to do with these broken pieces on the floor?

I'm losing my voice calling on you

'Cause I've been shaking
I've been bending backwards till I'm broke
Watching all these dreams go up in smoke

Let beauty come out of ashes
Let beauty come out of ashes
And when I pray to God all I ask is
Can beauty come out of ashes?

Ashes, by Celine Dion, from the Deadpool 2 Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, released in 2018


Bucky was staring at the court documents in his hand. That's what they were, court documents. He wasn't sure how to feel about this- the fact that they'd actively gotten to him, or what they held in them. The letter was formal, a bunch of different paragraphs grouped together, giving him many different ways of saying the same thing. But what it was saying, was something that reached him inside deeply.

Things hadn't been going too well for them. They really hadn't been. Clint had been out of Wakanda more then he'd been in it, dancing between country lines, pulling favour after favour in the name of seeing his kids. Laura had changed her number, had ignored all of his attempts to find her, had ignored every attempt at contact he'd tried.

He was getting frustrated, angry, but overall concerned, and worried about his children. Bucky didn't blame him; he would be in the same position. He knew that he'd somewhat blown it with Sparrow: these papers helped to prove it, hammer it home, and it made him question, for the first time, the rights and wrongs of this situation.

Stevie would say that they were in the right and that Sparrow was manipulated. But Sparrow was smart, and more importantly, lived her life in HYDRA. She knew manipulation when she saw it, and had that been the truth, there was no possible way she'd stay with Stark.

She was no child, despite appearances.

It was difficult to believe that one piece of paper could make The Winter Soldier have doubts, but it was the truth. Sometimes it took something to be right in front of their face before they realised it. Bucky wasn't the smartest- he wasn't stupid, but he certainly wasn't on Peter levels or Sparrow levels. They were far brighter than he could ever be.

Had he really done the best thing in leaving with Steve? He knew for a fact that Steve was as clueless about modern politics as he was: he just put on a good show of understanding it. Steve had always been like that, "faking it until you made it" as it was said.

He was so convincing at times, that even Bucky struggled to call him out in a lie. The hardest kind of lie to notice was one that the liar believed themselves. That might sound obvious, and while he had been trained and bullied to the best of HYDRA's ability, he himself wasn't infallible.

Plus, it could have something to do with a bias towards Steve. Tentatively speaking, Steve was a reminder of the past, of James Buchanan Barnes. He grounded Bucky to the present, in a way that nobody else could. Steve grounded Bucky to the character, the persona, of James Buchanan Barnes, whereas Sparrow reminded him of Season, of The Winter Soldier.

Perhaps he'd been hasty in adopting her. He himself hadn't been straightened out fully, and by leaping into it so wholeheartedly, he'd hurt them both. He could realise that now, looking back. He loved her, he really did, but sometimes his head was so scrambled in PTSD or trauma or memories, that he couldn't tell whether he was James Buchanan Barnes, or, Season, The Winter Soldier.

He'd been floundering at the same time Sparrow had been, and to be selfish in saying it, she'd clung to an identity he'd been trying his best to repress. It was the exact opposite of what his therapist had been saying to him, but well, she wasn't around to talk to him any more because he'd gone and fled the country after attacking Tony, twice.

And Sparrow, if the news were to be believed.

Which they likely were telling the truth in. Bucky's relationship with Tony was strained- absolutely blown to pieces after footage of the murder was found, his face mid blank stare as he wrapped his hands around Howard's throat- but Bucky doubted that he'd maliciously spread lies about Red Wolf.

The newbie to the Avengers, one who everyone knew was on the young side, by voice alone. One of the ones they didn't have an identity for. If only they knew the actual truth.

He stared at the paper, looking at it again, the letters jumbling around like his memories from long ago. What was the right thing to do? Well, he knew the right thing to do was to surrender himself to the USA but did he want to do that? It was selfish of him, but he didn't want to get arrested.

And though Stevie held some sway over him, the same worked in reverse. It didn't take a genius to figure out that if Bucky's name was involved, Steve would do anything. It was a dangerous realisation: they had become outlaws because of the effect of the Accords on him.

He couldn't blame Steve for his mistakes, because no matter how scrambled his mind was, Bucky was an adult. He had been getting better, only to fall back to square one once he'd left the US, had stopped talking to his therapist because "he could leak where we were." He'd not questioned it at the time- though he did now- but thinking on it, weren't counsellors forced to have a confidentiality agreement?

He couldn't have told Tony or the government, even if he'd wanted to.

"Bucky?"

Sam asked, striding into the room. The room- his room- was empty and spacious at the same time, simple and plain, as plain as anything could be in the advanced Wakanda. He rolled his shoulders, tensing his arms as he turned to face Sam, unable to stop his body from tensing, analysing every exit in the room, out of habit.

He fixed his eyes on the man, with Sam shuffling his position awkwardly. He removed his eyes from his friend- though he said that word hesitantly with the way everything was going- and looked at the paper. It was crumpled and the edges were bitty from where he'd been thumbing the edges, and he placed it down, smoothing it slowly with the back of his hand.

"What's that?"

"Documents."

He grunted roughly, looking at him. Sam narrowed his eyes, before positioning himself on the bed, staring at him analytically. Sam was fairly neutral, but most of their merry little band of outlaws just gave him a wide berth- no matter how much therapy he'd gotten, or how much he got his head on straight, they still treated him like he could fly off the handle at any given moment.

Although, he thought to himself, eyes downturned, staring at the wall as though it held life's answers. Isn't that what I did?

"What did you want me for?"

Sam groaned, before fixing his eyes on Bucky. They met, and as Bucky stared at the man who was the Falcon, he shifted position, arms folding together as he crossed his legs.

"Do you ever think we're doing the wrong thing?"

Had he been any less of an ex-HYDRA weapon, his eyebrows would have twitched. It wasn't entirely unbelievable that someone else was having second thoughts- and it did pay credence to the suspicion that maybe they weren't exactly doing the right thing. Bucky liked to think he wasn't a bad person- that is, Bucky, not the Winter Soldier- but he was so eager to jump in feet forwards that he didn't think about consequences.

Sam looked like he was itching for an answer, rocking slightly on the bed. He took a breath, nodding briefly with a tilt of his head, an answer but not quite. Regrets were something that Bucky quickly learned to let go of- though in this case, they built up fairly quickly. He placed the documents down on the desk, spinning around slowly to stare at him once again.

"Sometimes."

Sam nodded, continuing on undeterred from Bucky's admittedly hesitant, answer. His legs were placed firmly against the bottom of the floor, not rocking or bouncing at all. That was one thing Sparrow certainly did better than him- relax with small gestures.

"It's just, I jumped too quickly into Steve's side; I didn't think it through. And with hearing everything that happened…"

Bucky looked at him, with slightly intrigued eyes. What does he know?

"…I'm just having some second thoughts."

He concluded. Bucky nodded, feeling like he was slightly betraying Steve. But, he should really think for himself instead of thoughts that Steve had a hand in. Everyone had their blind spots, something that blindsided them every time, but he couldn't help but think that sometimes, he got hit with that just as much as anyone else did.

"Steve… sometimes is rash. He jumps into it far too quickly and doesn't think. And sometimes… he can spin good enough of a story that anyone believes it. Even me…"

Bucky said. He found that taking an impersonal standpoint made it easier to explain like he was an outsider looking in. It took away any personal stakes he had or investments he had in what happened and made it easier to be objective. Steve had always been rash, even way back in the war. He jumped into things like the Nazi encampment, without thinking of an infiltration or exfiltration plan.

And nobody ever criticised him, because who would they be to tarnish the reputation of the great Captain America. And criticising Steve meant bringing down morale between the soldiers, and there wasn't much morale to share in the war.

"Do you regret it?"

Sam asked, and Bucky was reminded of the documents, waiting for his signature so they could do it the amicable way. It didn't matter now whether he regretted it or not, because in the end, he made a mistake- several of them. Those papers were waiting for his signatures, a reflection of the last tie he had with Roe- the last tie between an old relationship that he'd cherished for so long, yet thrown away so easily.

"Yes."


"Hey, readers! Bet you weren't expecting me! Or maybe you were- I was mentioned a couple of chapters ago! Nobody could forget the amazing, the fabulous, Deadpooooool!"

Roe looked to Peter who looked to Tony. None of them was sure what exactly to say, but they were all thinking the same thing: this guy is nuts. It wasn't as if they were wrong to come to that conclusion, anyway, one just had to look at his psych eval- or lack thereof.

Apparently, he'd killed the psychiatrist halfway through the evaluation, because of some kind of "disagreement." There were very few files on Wade Wilson, but that was less because of anonymity and more because of his habit of slaying anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

Was he really the kind of person they wanted to help them fight? He seemed a little… unhinged, and though Professor Xavier had warned them of it, it was a different thing to see it upfront. Deadpool definitely looked intimidating, with his katanas on his back, slickened with blood, and his suit red and black.

Apparently, red was the new in colour for superheroes; Iron Man, Spider-Man…. A lot of red-themed superheroes. That was ignoring Roe's alter-ego as Red Wolf. Roe didn't even like the colour red… it was synonymous with many other things that she'd rather not think about.

"Oi! I'm still here! Stupid writer not focusing on who is truly important here: Me."

They looked at one another again, raising their eyebrows. They were all dressed up- for lack of a better word- in their respective suits, Tony in Bleeding Edge, Roe herself in her suit that Tony made, and Peter in his normal spider-suit.

They cornered him- relying on FRIDAY and JARVIS' analysis of his habits- in one of the many side-streets of Manhattan. So far, he didn't seem openly hostile… which was a good thing, she guessed. Roe was wary and hesitant, but so far, he wasn't openly hostile.

Roe was tired. She had been seeing Helen and her therapist and talking to Peter, but she'd still been sleeping minimalistic, almost as if she had been fighting a war. The idea of winding down was still difficult for her, and though she wasn't scared of her nightmares, it disturbed Peter. With him trying to sleep besides her to calm her down- or at least, let her sleep through undisturbed- and not letting Roe tell him to go back to his room, she knew it was affecting his sleep schedule.

"Hellloooo? Now is hardly the time for an existential crisis."

"He's crazy."

Peter commented quietly to Roe's ear, despite the fact that Roe could have heard him just as clearly if he'd pulled away. Roe nodded almost solemnly, and they both looked at Tony, staring at the blue glow of both the Arc and the eyehole slits.

"I think so too."

Tony cleared his throat, staring at Deadpool- or Wade Wilson, depending on what you wanted to call him- staring at him with the emotionless plate of the Iron Man armour. Tony rolled his wrists in the suit, momentarily flashing the repulsors, before speaking again, in the brief gap that Deadpool provided, in between mumbles of something like "…. Japan… really?..." and "what do you mean, she doesn't like my character."

"We have something to talk to you about, Mr Wilson."

He was like a kid on Christmas, acting more like a young child than one of his age. He was bouncing from foot to foot, the crinkles of his mask raising into a cheeky-looking almost grin, and his eyes were wide, hands reaching up to his cheeks.

"Ooh, is it something to do with cutie boy over there?"

Peter's eyes widened, and Roe could practically sense his awkwardness behind the mask. Spider-Man was confident, but Peter was not. And sometimes, it was hard for Peter to separate the two: trying to pretend to be someone he was not.

"No."

Roe told him bluntly, her voice neutral as she bristled slightly. She knew she was broadcasting annoyance, but Roe got the feeling that it would take something completely unsubtle to get it through his head,

"It's more like something to do with a large-scale battle that might involve innocents dying."

It didn't shut him up, but his entire demeanour seemed to shift, as he focused on them both with an odd intensity. Similarly to Peter's mask, the eyeholes narrowed, and Deadpool's fingers itched by his side, almost in a reflex.

"Alright then, sweetie, tell me what's this about."


Author's Note

I'm sorry that this is so late! I spent a lot of time studying last night and fell asleep really late... and decided to post the update the morning after. Though, morning suddenly turned into evening.

Oops?

I hope you enjoyed Deadpool. I found him a little difficult to write- seriously, he breaks the fourth wall every five seconds- but listening to Ashes from the second movie helped me quite a bit.

Anyway, I'll see you next week!

~Cait