As the Sky May Fall EirlysLavellan
The Avengers Marvel Comics
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Summary: Alice was always so sure of the way her life was going to go, however, her entire perspective is changed upon being forcibly added to the Avengers. After the Invasion of New York things quickly change and she realizes that everything she thought she was, is nothing close to what she ever imagined especially when she realizes that the man she had thought was dead turns out to be forcibly working for HYDRA as their Winter Soldier. She swears she will do anything to keep him safe even if that means going against the new family she has built.
Disclaimer: I am a poor college grad and am receiving no payment whatsoever to write this fiction. If I was, in fact, getting paid for this, I would not be a poor college graduate that I can assure you. All rights are reserved to Marvel, D.C. Comics, and Walt Disney Pictures and Columbia Studios as well as the amazing screenwriters, directors and producers, and actors who created this film. I only own the subplot as well as Alice Alexander and any other unrecognizable character throughout the plot.
Warning: Spoilers, character death, violence, suggestive themes (such as sexual assault/self-harm/depression) and vulgarity.
P.S. I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes you may see throughout this story. I tried to catch what I could, but I'm only human and I'm positive I missed things, haha. Thanks again for sticking with me everyone!
Author's notes can be found at the bottom of each chapter which include my thoughts as well as my thank you to any and all who favorite, subscribe and review ;)
As the Sky May Fall
Deadpool
32
Early July 2015
Bucky sat up violently, his head swimming as the room spun before his eyes.
He knew these side effects – the coming out of another nightmare – and was thankful that his stomach didn't lurch which meant that it wasn't going to be a horrible day at the very least. He tried to recall the terror that had awoken him only to sigh in frustration as the memory fled to the darker reaches of his mind. Since he had seen Alice in Sokovia a few months ago, he had been recalling things faster and faster, but he could only remember so much in time to write it down. As his eyes readjusted to the darkness of the small apartment he had settled into, he spotted the pager he had set off to the side the day before. It had become an odd comfort, a connection to the one person that he was most drawn to and the most terrified of.
Sitting next to the pager, however, were two notebooks that appeared aged and that he knew contained information about her, the dates for each written in a neat and slanted script that looked more like calligraphy than someone's actual handwriting – grandiose and dramatic yet seemingly so fitting to who he remembered her to be. He knew what lingered in some of the pages; the smudges that gave evidence to her being left handed and the blots of ink that proved she wrote with ink and a pointed tip rather than the smooth ballpoint pens that seemed popular in this century. The way her cursive rose and fell in smooth arches gave him the impression that she took her time when she wrote and every stroke had an intention behind it and he found that style echoed in his memories of her as well as the way she had appeared to him only a few months prior. He was still struggling with differentiating between the more modern Alice and the Alice that he had known and that he remembered and her notebooks, the two he had taken at any rate, had been helpful in allowing him to spot the differences and similarities between the two women.
It had been as she promised: she was neither the same woman nor much different than she had once been. The juxtaposition of the two women that were one and the same was both confusing and comforting because he was neither the same nor different than he had once been. He knew that Bucky or James (both names interchangeable depending on the situation as far as he was concerned) resided beneath his skin, but both were so very tainted by the Winter Soldier that he drew comfort in knowing that it wasn't unusual or odd to flounder between the ideals and presence of each.
Within the pages, however, she spoke in detail about her time within the Army Nursing Corps with scribbles along the margins made in pencil of different plants as if the thought had randomly jumped into her head and she needed to write it down before she forgot. It then went on to describe the war in which she had been shipped out from New York Harbor with the 101st Regiment as a member of the 71st Field Hospital and hadn't connected with the nurses in her unit and kept to herself; detailing about her feelings and the scenery she could see as they made their way through southern Italy with rough sketches that he had to admit weren't terrible, but he seemed to recall that Steve's art was much better. There was also a long entry in that book that detailed when she had been reassigned to the 107th and what would become the 80th Field Hospital.
He had shamelessly added small post-it tabs to the pages that involved him in some capacity as well as any that he deemed familiar to the memories he was continuing to detail out in his own notebooks – the pages not near as organized or elegant as Alice's had been.
With a deep sigh, Bucky stood from his makeshift bed – an old mattress and sleeping bag with a worn pillow tossed in a corner of what would have been his living room – and made his way to the table where her notebooks resided and picked up the one dated as 1920 November – 1963 September, his eyes briefly tracing the one entitled 1986 April – 2012 March and shaking his head briefly. He had attempted to read through the early parts of that book only to have to close it as it triggered his own trauma and made it very difficult to manage the darkness that quickly overtook him and so he promised to read it when he could fully control his memories and the darkness that lingered within them. Almost naturally he flipped to an entry that he had read at least one hundred other times dated 15th February 1943 and allowed himself a moment to fall into the comfort of the sure strokes of her pen and the faint scent of spiced chai that lingered along the pages from the perfume she used.
15.02.1943
Bologna, Italy
Of all the wars I've seen in my life, the devastation of this one just seems to sit differently within me.
The warfare is different and the lack of regard for human life is troubling. It reminds me how short human life is;
fleeting in so many ways and yet fulfilled in the same breath as if time is just that and not an impending ailment of life's cruelties.
I'm reminded this every time I come across another soldier too far gone to save or a civilian caught in the crossfire, but
no matter how many people I meet in these times there's effervescence in the heart and love of this generation. They're not perfect,
no, but they never have been. If there's anything I've learned from them over the many years of my life is that they learn and they
learn quickly from the mistakes made by generations before them and that some are capable of incredible things.
I find myself faced with the inevitability of such things. Johana, Daphne and Fiona are some of the most incredible women
I have ever had the pleasure of working with. We've become a small family of sorts and I will forever be thankful to them
and their friendship over the last few months. Though there is a fear ever present in regards to them. Recently, Colonel
Phillips has created a check-point hospital of sorts – I'm not certain how else to put it as we've been ordered to set up
closer to the field of battle than regulation allows for as the death toll continues to rise within our unit. The boys are
doing the best that they can with the resources they've gotten, but even then it's not enough to provide proper help as they continue
to push back the Axis line. I can't know for certain, but it's almost as if Colonel Phillips is looking for something. Regardless
it's putting our lives in danger, but I suppose that's what we've signed up for…that much has not changed in nearly one
hundred years. We've questioned orders enough and he's already threatened me with a court martial if I continue to question
our position and despite knowing I am right, these people cannot afford to lose me. I don't brag when I say that either, unfortunately;
Tabitha, God rest her soul, would not be pleased to know what's become of her knowledge, but I've used the gifts
she's given me to provide all that I can do this cause. Without her knowledge of plants and applications, I fear these people would
not have made it as far as they have and that truly terrifies me.
I find myself questioning much lately in regards to this time period and the people in it. Have I been wrong to shield myself
the way I have for so long? I know what heartbreak will follow such decisions, but I can't ignore what I so desperately
crave – what I've been without for so many years. Am I cursing my own existence by starving myself of friends…love?
Love…that's something I've not thought about for quite some time, nor have I wanted to. After Seamus I didn't think it possible
to love again; and then Jim came stumbling into my life and proved me wrong and while we'll always have love for one another
we weren't going to last. But recently? Recently I've found myself dancing with a partner with much more cunning than I could have
given him credit for and that terrifies me. He is wonderful and irritating in the same breath, but there is a confidence to him
and an intelligence that has challenged my own for perhaps the first time in many years. He speaks in riddles – fancies that he
must believe are the ways to a woman's heart whether by some advice given to him long ago or by some other influence I'll never understand.
I'd much rather he speak plainly, but I can't deny that there's a certain thrill to this odd cat and mouse game we've established.
He surprised me today, however. A side of him I'd never seen before. He wasn't overconfident nor did he dress his words to mean something
different than what he intended. He spoke of his sisters and their love of books and his own…even mentioning that he knew Jane Austin, a
surprise if I've ever seen one and especially from a man who seems to pride himself as a playboy…though I'm now believing that to be
a clever disguise he likes to hide behind, though I will never truly admit how charming he is aside from writing it here. He surprised me
not because of his approach, but because of his genuine interest in what I was talking about…I've never really experienced that before.
(The name James was scratched out and replaced with his name or nickname) Bucky is unlike many I've met in this time.
He's kind, vulnerable and dare I say actually intelligent and it's almost as if he doesn't want people to know that…it makes me
wonder if he feels the need to guard that part of him not unlike I do in an effort to hold onto the one thing that reminds us
that we're not the monsters people make us and this war has made monsters of many of us. Not once today did he try flirting with me,
or if he did it was very cleverly done and I missed it, but…I know what this all means and I'm terrified of what the outcome
will be. Should he find out about me…would he still be as kind as he is now?
There is much I fear in regards to continuing down this road and yet I can't stop myself. How can a person make you
feel as if you're completely whole just by giving you a stupid nickname or sharing thoughts on a book? Even after all this time,
when I should have all of the answers, I know next to nothing about what makes the heart yearn for another person.
Mother never spoke of this; she'd have rather marry me off be it by my own volition or not – a good match, a smart
match was much more important than what the heart yearned for…Father had even been told who he should marry and maybe
that part of me will never die no matter how many times I do, but maybe…maybe this time I can make my own choice and
damn the consequences.
Maybe I can be a part of this world at least a little and maybe he'd be willing to listen to
my story and who I am despite the challenges of what I am…but if he doesn't? If he fears me as much
as I fear myself…I don't know if I'd ever recover and I can't afford that heartbreak, but aren't I damned
regardless? To live this life and a thousand others without taking the chance on love, a true love? That would be
true damnation regardless of whether or not I'm cursed to continue beyond his life and into the next.
The entry finished abruptly, the smudge of ink that appeared proved that she had been disturbed while writing and considering the lack of further writing for that page she hadn't gone back to complete it. The words themselves had been confusing to him at first as he didn't have much context to go off, but after reading many of the other entries in this book in particular, Bucky was able to conclude that she had been honest with him when he had first broken from the Winter Soldier programming in Washington D.C. and again in Sokovia. Their odd meeting in Sokovia had further put the entry into context and given him more clarity into realizing that Alice was something more than a normal person and she feared that power greatly. She called it a curse, her damnation and he had never related to something more in his entire life.
As his memories of her had become clearer he could see the fear she carried behind honest eyes and yet she still took a chance on him. Even now she was taking a chance on him and her words suddenly made much more sense.
"I can't expect you to be the same man you once were when I'm not entirely the same woman I once was either. That'd be hypocritical at best of me."
Wiping a hand down the side of his still damp face he sighed softly and replaced the notebook back on the coffee table, his tired eyes straying to the pager that remained undisturbed.
Alice had said she had modified the device so that they could communicate if he so desired and after leaving Sokovia he had played around a bit with the interesting piece of technology to find that unlike pagers he had seen in the past during his time as HYDRA's asset this pager seemed to work on an alphanumeric characters and could send long texts like a cellphone could and had a projection screen that could support the longer messages, but the signal was blocked by the ever present cellular towers and people's use of them. She had also tweaked the device to also include Morse code should he prefer that method which he appreciated as it worked very similarly to the one he had recalled using with the Commandos long before his brainwashing.
With a deep breath he scooped the pager from the table and stood, his body suddenly jittering with nerves that he couldn't place. He toyed with the device in his hands for a moment before shaking his head slowly and yet he continued to hold the device as he peered beyond his newspaper covered windows into the quiet streets of Bucharest below.
Romania had been a place that lingered in his mind and at first he couldn't understand why, but as soon as he had crossed through the outer reaches of the country he felt what he could only describe as peace. It had later been revealed to him through his slowly returning memory that he had such a strong connection to the country because his grandmother and grandfather had been from the heavily forested, mountain encircled country. He had been able to recall that his grandparents and his mother had been from Bușteni which was located in the Prahova Valley at the bottom of the Bucegi Mountains and it had been one of the first places that he had visited upon entering the country. Unfortunately, people in small towns always noticed newcomers despite it being a tourist town of recent and his fluency with the language had made him stick out like a sore thumb and so he had decided it best to move on. After staying briefly in a few other cities and towns he had finally settled within Bucharest, the country's capital and the easiest place for him to hide.
He had created a life – or a semblance of one over the last few months and no one asked too many questions with the exception of his neighbor.
The man was American despite his insistence that he was actually Scottish and he had lost his accent from living in the States for most of his life and Bucky had taken to keeping his interactions with the man cordial at best. He was a tall man, even in height with him, with brown hair that naturally seemed to highlight in the warmer months and appeared a mousey brown and strangely vivid green eyes that seemed to know more than he allowed people to see. He had freckles that splattered across his definitive features that Bucky had to admit seemed startlingly familiar, but he hadn't been able to place why. Objectively the man was certainly handsome, but something told him that this man knew it and used it to his advantage as he appeared to be in the topmost physical health despite his bowed legs. He had introduced himself as Liam, his preferred name or so he had said and he claimed he had moved to Bucharest for a job. What the job was, Bucky hadn't asked nor did he care as he had his own troubles to deal with though he could sense enough to be wary around his new neighbor.
Shaking his head of his wayward thoughts he returned his focus to the pager in his hand, ignoring the sight of his metal fingers as he slid his flesh thumb over the screen and watching it come to life. With careful consideration of what he wanted to say, Bucky began typing out his message in Morse code, the periods, slashes and dashes coming naturally to him.
Do you have a moment to talk, was the message that stared back at him. It was simple and didn't leave much to suggest he wanted anything other than to talk, but the more he stared at the message the more he began to feel anxiety welling up in his chest. In a moment of fear he deleted the message before beginning to type out a new one before deleting that as well. This carried on for what felt like hours before he settled on his first message and hit send before he lost the nerve to send it at all.
As the moments ticked by, Bucky could feel his anxiety grow before a lingering feeling of disappointment began to settle around his heart. Glancing up at the clock that lay askew on the wall he could see that it was 4am his time, which meant that it was 9pm her time the day previous as she had told him she was returning to New York and so it was still early enough that he hoped she'd see it.
But what if she didn't answer?
Did that mean that she didn't want to talk to him? But hadn't she promised that the pager would be the easiest way to reach her? A thousand questions circled in his mind as he worried that he had overstepped and had too easily trusted the former nurse and the woman from his memory. Just as he was about to ignore the pager out of spite and to lash himself mentally for allowing himself to believe she'd reply, the device beeped in his hand and he glanced down to see the returning coded message.
Of course I do, the periods and dashes and slashes read. Are you alright?
Bucky stared down at the screen for a few moments, his mind completely blank as he tried to formulate a response. How was he supposed to answer a question he didn't actually know the answer to? Taking a moment to collect himself he debated telling her the truth or coming up with a convincing lie to manage her concern. In that moment he wished he could actually speak to her; maybe the sound of her voice would chase away the lingering darkness that seemed to hang about him like a ghost. As if she could read his mind, another message came to life on his screen.
Would you like to actually talk or are you more comfortable with coded messaging?
He stared at the code, an odd ease settling the anxiety that had built in his chest initially. It was as if she seemed to understand that the need to talk was due to the need to not be alone with himself in that moment and he suddenly wondered if this was a familiar feeling for her to experience as memories of her other notebook, vague as they were in some areas, hinted at the abuse and conditioning she had been through.
If I wanted to talk / how would I reach you?
After sending the message he sighed to himself, almost kicking himself for how ridiculous he sounded.
Placing the pager aside briefly he tugged on his jeans and tried to make himself presentable enough to venture out into the city. With a quick smell test to a shirt that had been tossed near the couch and deeming it clean he tugged it over his head just as the pager beeped. He tried not to get too excited at the faster reply and he glanced over the message to see a series of numbers with an area code and country code – it was clear she knew he wouldn't be in the United States and he made a mental note to ask her how she came to that conclusion.
001 - 845 - 313 - 5729 / my secure number and yours should you need it.
He couldn't help the amused snort that escaped him or the way his lips seemed to twitch as if he could hear her say the words directly. He imaged her alto throaty and drawl sarcastic partnered with a quirked brow and sly smile that he could remember from when she would tease him and it brought a sense of comfort that eased the remainder of his anxiety and pushed him to get himself dressed and presentable so he could find a phone to call from. Realization dawned on him almost too late that it would probably be smart to let her know he was planning on taking her up on the offer and so he typed out his message before stuffing the pager into his jacket pocket and grabbing his hat and gloves. Thankfully the weather was cool and rainy enough to warrant his current outfit as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his baseball cap just as he stepped out into the otherwise dreary weather.
Bucky had come to know this area very well and he knew the places he would need to avoid to prevent an altercation. He hadn't settled in the nicest part of the city, but he couldn't exactly afford luxury while on the run and so he had taken the monthly lease with little questions asked, especially when the landlord revealed that she didn't care to know anything about him so long as he paid her on time. He still got flashes of memories as he walked, but as time continued to drag on and he adjusted he found that they were easier to control unless a sudden sound startled him. Sirens were still the largest trigger he faced as well as some cars. Depending on the sound he would either see flashes of war or flashes of his time as HYDRA'S unwilling assassin, neither preferable, but when it came down to it he always preferred the memories of the war. Shaking his thoughts as he crossed the street he soon made his way into a local coffee shop that he had begun frequenting.
He had become friendly with the owner after he saw the elderly woman struggling with boxes of product and had silently offered is help. Since then, the owner (Rita, she had insisted he call her after an awkward introduction on his part) had allowed him to use whatever resources he needed. Most of the time it was the internet or the odd book from her bookshelf behind the counter, but he was hoping the old woman would allow him to use her telephone to make what could become a very expensive international call. As he stepped into the small shop he wasn't surprised to see Rita sitting behind the counter with a cup of coffee and a crossword puzzle open in her booklet before her.
"Ah James you are earlier than usual, eh!" She called without looking up at him, her pencil tapping a nameless rhythm as her eyes scanned the boxes in front of her. "You need the internet or another book?"
Bucky shook his head slowly, "I normally wouldn't ask, but may I use your phone?"
Rita lifted her head and stared at him from behind coke-bottle lenses, her dark gaze piercing before they softened and she nodded, "You're a good egg – not many like you anymore and always so polite. You need to talk to family?"
"Something like that."
Her gaze immediately sharpened, "Ah, I see. A pretty girl perhaps? And what would a pretty girl be doing getting a call from a handsome boy at nearly…" she turned to glance at the clock on the wall before returning her now teasing gaze to the awkwardly shifting super soldier, "5:30 in the morning?"
"Her time it's not that early…or late."
"So she is out of country?"
"You don't mind?"
Rita's thin lips curled in a teasing grin, "Boy, if I had one leu for how often I see you actually talk to people your own age I'd be a very poor woman. You know where the phone is so get to it."
Bucky couldn't help the way his lips twitched into a small smile before he nodded and stepped around the counter and towards where the woman's office lay just beyond the beaded curtain. Rita had reminded him of his mother when he began to finally remember Winifred Barnes; she was kind and patient but she certainly had a streak of fire that wove into her teasing nature and it had taken a bit for him to even remotely open up to the elderly woman. He had always remembered his mother to be someone he could speak openly with and he recalled that she had always seemed to know more than she let on when it came to her children and Bucky especially. Winifred Barnes had never said it, but Bucky was sure his mother had been aware that he wasn't only attracted to women in his youth as there was very little that got passed her. Rita had been an almost scary reflection of the woman who had raised him and she had the same stubborn streak his mother had and he assumed that was why the elder woman was able to break past his wall so quickly.
Shaking the thoughts of his mother, Bucky was fast to remove the pager from his pocket before he hesitated as the number lingered on the screen.
Was this a good idea? A thousand reasons argued that speaking with Alice would only make his situation worse and would bring about more memories that he would have no control over, but the few reasons that stood out to him that countered the onslaught of worries brought a calm he hadn't been expecting. Maybe she could better help him put his thoughts in order, answer questions that still lingered along the edges of his mind and remained too fuzzy to make out. He had his notebooks; he rarely went anywhere without at least one to jot things down as he remembered them, so he knew that taking advantage of this opportunity would be wise. With a deep breath he punched the number into the phone and nearly held his breath as the line rang.
"Hello?"
His mouth ran dry as Alice's voice echoed along the line. Her voice was soft with just a hint of throatiness that signified she had been on the cusp of sleep and he could make out the soft sound of what could only be a fan in the background. It took him a moment to collect himself, knowing that if he didn't speak then he would probably lose his chance.
"Alice…"
"Bucky, I'm glad you called." She sounded genuine albeit surprised which told him that she hadn't actually known who was calling her at that hour; the sleepiness that had been in her voice replaced with an alertness that surprised him at how quickly it had switched. "Is everything okay?"
"I…" he shook his head slowly before sighing softly, "I'm surprised you answered."
"Why wouldn't I?" The former nurse asked as she shifted, the rustle of clothing cluing him that she had probably been in bed. He shook his head immediately of the images that had begun to circulate within his mind's eye of more intimate moments that the two of them had shared and he found himself sighing.
"I don't know."
"I'm sure you do know, but I'm not going to pry mostly because that would require more brainwork than I'm willing to put out at this point." She remarked casually, a lilt appearing in her voice that told him she was teasing him. "I'm not even going to bother asking where you're calling from, again because that'd require me to actually be clever and I so do not want to be clever this evening." She chuckled.
He found himself frowning in concern, "Do you always just answer your phone for random numbers?"
"Depends on the hour," Alice answered blithely, "but for the most part yes. Normally it's Steve or any number of the people I work with calling me at all hours so I'm not ever really surprised when my phone goes off anymore."
"Steve…calls you?"
"He does."
Her honest answer surprised him, though he didn't know why as the woman had always been relatively straightforward. He couldn't understand why Steve calling her made him uncomfortable, but he couldn't stop the small pang of jealousy that sparked at her confirmation and he quickly concluded after a moment of deliberation that it was because the patriot had the freedom to see and speak to her whenever he wished and that was a luxury that Bucky couldn't afford. Besides what could he offer her but a broken visage of who she had once loved?
Shaking the thought he opened his mouth to speak just as Alice's voice echoed through the phone once more.
"If you're curious as to why, it's because he has nightmares just as much as any of us do."
Bucky cleared his throat, "What about?"
"Take your pick," the woman's voice huffed back at him though not unkindly. "It's a lot of residual stuff from the war, about not being able to save you not just once but twice, recent Avenging stuff, though it's rare that the Avenger work gets to him. We both have them and sometimes it's nice to just have someone to listen when you're barely hanging on."
"Does…does that help?"
"It's not a quick fix, but it does help a little."
It took him a moment to formulate his question. He could tell that Alice wanted to help him and that she had phrased her answer that told him that she was willing to listen to whatever it was that was bothering him, but he still wasn't sure if he should trust her with that information. With a sigh he ran a hand down the side of his face, his gloved fingers scratching at the beard that had begun to grow in since he didn't have a way to trim it at the moment and he would never admit how it made him feel more comfortable to look so different from James Buchanan Barnes and the Winter Soldier, despite his steady comfort with the idea of who he had once been. Shaking his head he returned his focus to the conversation and was surprised to hear movement from the other line as if Alice had decided the room she was in wasn't to her liking as the sound of a door clicking closed behind her sounded. There was silence in that moment with the exception of the odd muffled sound of voices and he wondered where she found herself, but he decided to ask his original question and one he knew he needed to ask in order to establish what he could say.
"Does Steve know?"
Alice seemed to have a way of conveying her expressions through her voice, something he was thankful for in that moment as it was harder to read her by her voice alone as she tended to fall behind a mask of aloofness when face to face. Her voice was open as if she was allowing herself to willingly convey her emotions and thoughts to help him read her better, her shifting over the line, however, told him that she was wrestling with something – be it herself or not, he wasn't sure.
After a brief moment she seemed to shrug, "Do you want him to know?"
He wasn't expecting that to be her answer as he sat back in the chair he had fallen into shortly after dialing her number. She hadn't told the patriot that she had seen him while in Sokovia which meant she was waiting for him to make the first move in regards to his old friend. It was clear that she wasn't going to be making decisions in regards to him and he supposed that made sense considering he was actually the one to seek her out five months ago. Bucky didn't know what he wanted, but there was something more terrifying about confronting Steve than confronting Alice and he assumed it was because Alice represented something completely different than Steve did.
Alice represented a future that at the time he didn't believe he would ever have again simply because he hadn't truly known if she was who she said she was as he struggled between the specter that had tickled along the edges of his memories and the woman that had helped him not once but twice of recent. She had told him that she had no expectations of who he was or who he had been because she wouldn't hold him to a standard that she wasn't willing to hold herself to and that had brought him a comfort he hadn't planned for and so she continued to represent a future for him, but it presented other problems. Alice certainly didn't seem to care that he was a fugitive and he knew if he asked she would not hesitate to drop what she was doing and join him – or at least that was what he could tell just by the way she had interacted with him in Sokovia – and he knew he couldn't rightfully do that to her. She had built a life without him and he couldn't ask her to throw that all away for him, not when he had nothing to offer her, no stability to offer her.
He had recalled the plans they had spoken of during the 1940s; the plans to move into the countryside with mountains and rivers and streams, and the plans to have a family and animals to complete the ideal picture of a future. He had cried, ugly and guttural, when the memory had come to the forefront of his mind as he realized that HYDRA hadn't just stolen that away from him, but had stolen it away from her and he knew it was something he couldn't ever have because of what they made him…what they had done to her by proxy. But still he held onto the hope that her acceptance and presence offered him because she didn't expect anything from him – all she wanted was for him to do things in his own time and to be safe.
Steve, however, represented everything that he had once been and that still terrified him because who was he really? Was he the suave and charming man of the 1940s or the killing machine that HYDRA had made him? Steve represented his past and the expectation that came with the knowledge of who he was – who he had been. He had started regaining memories of his childhood best friend shortly after he had managed to escape HYDRA after the events in Washington D.C. especially as there was a larger sum of information available to him in regards to Steven Rogers. He knew the very basics about the blonde patriot – as much as a person knows about a celebrity or any other historical figure – as well as the sacrifices he had made (a familiar feeling of exasperation had coursed through his veins when he read that Steve had nosedived into the artic only to be lost to time). Bucky found the he was fearful of the patriot because Steve represented everything he had once stood for and what did he stand for now? He was a fugitive on the run and scrambling to reclaim the autonomy that had been stolen from him. Steve was a reminder of what he could have been.
He realized suddenly that he was taking too long to answer and cleared his throat, "I…don't think so."
"Then he won't know."
"You would do that…why?"
She sighed, "Bucky, I've lived a long time and I understand the need for secrets."
She didn't elaborate, but she didn't need to. Bucky understood the gravity of her words as he had read her notebook several times in just the last few months alone to be able to understand her fear at being discovered, though he still couldn't understand what she was exactly, he respected that she had needed to keep her own secrets in order to remain safe. It was in that moment he felt he could trust her as relief he hadn't known he needed eased the tension of his muscles as he waited with bated breath for her answer.
"Steve is, of course, worried about you and he wants to find you," Alice continued after a brief moment of silence, "but he also understands that at this point you're not going to compromise your safety unless you feel comfortable enough and that's enough for him. Neither one of us are going to push you, but I do want you to know that Steve isn't going to disregard your comfort…he only wants to help and I know sometimes, especially from him, that it comes across as pushy, but he truly has the best intentions at heart."
"I know," Bucky's voice creaked before he sighed softly, "but I don't know him."
Alice was silent for a moment before he was able to hear movement once more as if she was pacing, though it was quickly followed by what he could tell was a chair of some sort giving way as she sat, "It will come in time…you do know him and I think you're afraid of what he means to you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
He didn't mean to come across as irritated, but her perceptiveness was frustrating. The woman only huffed a soft laugh as if she could read him as easily as if she were sitting in front of him and watching his expressions. "You're an incredibly smart man, Bucky, you always have been and I think you only want me to say it because it'll confirm something for you. Steve is the only connection you have to most of your life. I was only a part of your life for a short time in comparison and while I'm grateful for any time we're afforded I also realize that confronting Steve means coming to terms with the past. I would be nervous too…especially since Steve hasn't exactly stayed out of the public eye over the last few years."
"I don't remember you being so insightful."
"Don't insult me," She laughed. "I may have had a shorter amount of time to get to know you, but we knew one another better than most. And I know you believe that you're not the same man or that you've changed, but you're still you."
"And how would you know that?" Bucky asked, surprised at how relaxed he suddenly felt. "For all you know I could be everything they say I am."
"Depends on the answer you're looking for," Alice's voice smiled before she seemed to sober. "The truth is, Bucky, that if you weren't you anymore then I could hardly say that I'm me. I know that doesn't make sense, but I don't know how else to describe it. Relearning all of the things that are stolen from you is difficult…I can say that from experience, but I have hope that one day we'll be able to share what we once had."
His mouth ran dry at her admission and he found himself wanting the same thing she spoke of. He knew she understood his experience, the sincerity of her soft alto and the notebook he had taken years ago now had proven she knew what it was like. But for the first time he felt as if there were something to look forward to – something to work towards. He couldn't explain it, not truly, but there was a piece of him that so desperately craved her approval and if nothing else, he promised himself that he would strive to reclaim himself and become better for her.
"As the sky may fall…"
Her breath hitched slightly and he felt warmth spread from his chest when he realized he had said something to steal the words from her and he recalled a game the two of them once played. It had been stupid and juvenile, but she hadn't ever said no when he had proposed the idea as a much younger and cockier man. The game had been that should he ever leave her without reply that he would be allowed a kiss and he had only ever left her speechless once as the woman he had known was not without much to say and he believed Alice had always managed to have a comeback just to spite him. Now, however, there was a thrum of adrenaline that accompanied the memory of that game and he wondered if he should push his luck, deciding after a moment's deliberation that he truly had nothing to lose.
"That was our promise…because the sky can't fall." He spoke softly, purposefully. "I remember some things, but not everything…and I don't know if I remember this right, but wasn't there a game or bet we had in place?"
"There was," she confirmed after a moment, her voice breathy and thick with emotion. "And that wa-is our promise…and a bargain is a bargain so we'll have to make good on it I suppose…"
A smile began to twitch at his lips and despite the expression feeling strange, it felt right in that moment as he felt his heart flutter in his chest. "I suppose we will."
It took moment for her to reply and when she did he could nearly picture the flustered look on her face as she stumbled over her words, "I um…I mean…"
Bucky couldn't help the small, self-satisfied smirk that ghosted his lips. There was something nostalgic in leaving the former nurse speechless and flustered and while he couldn't name the feeling per se, he certainly relished in how whole it made him feel. After a moment the woman cleared her throat as if trying to regain some semblance of composure before her voice soft with an added huskiness that made his heart skip a beat and heat bloom along the back of his neck and ears and race towards his stomach as if a thousand butterflies had been released into the air at once.
"All this talk of change and yet you haven't changed at all...that's not a bad thing, you know...I know you fear it, the change you believe they caused, but I don't see it." Her voice conveyed a comfort that had softened the blow of her words and he couldn't help the way his heart now beat a thundering rhythm against his breast like thousands of horses racing through fields. "For all they claim to have succeeded...they failed spectacularly, Bucky they did and if you remember anything, remember this: you are not what they made you to be. You are James Buchanan - Bucky Barnes and you are so much more than the world has made you."
Swallowing thickly, he tried to stop the tremor in his voice, "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know you are so much braver and so much kinder than anything they ever presumed about you and I believe in who you are and have faith in that...I've never stopped..."
It took him a moment to truly understand the words that she had spoken, but when he did he felt something akin to predilection and a fondness for the woman who had clearly never stopped loving him even after all he had done and what he had become. She still believed there was good within him despite evidence to the contrary and he had to push the images of himself as the Winter Soldier assaulting her back into the darker part of his mind where he had learned to keep them. Alice could see something that he clearly didn't and there was a trust that he could rely on with her and that surprised him. He had been so terrified of what it could mean to see her again and she had welcomed him with arms open wide despite her own fear of how he would perceive her.
"It's getting late there isn't it?"
"I-it is, but…" she sighed softly seemingly understanding his need for retreat despite how he hadn't intended his words to come off that way, but Alice didn't seem to think the same thing he did as her voice light and airy echoed over the line once more. "I know It goes without saying, but if ever you need me don't hesitate to call…okay?"
"Okay," he nodded slowly with a small smile. "I'll talk to you soon?"
Alice seemed to regain her composure as she chuckled, "Promises, promises Mr. Barnes."
He chuckled good-naturedly, "Goodnight Allie…"
"Goodnight Buck." She seemed to want to say more, but stopped herself before murmuring another soft farewell before hanging up.
After a moment he replaced the phone back in its cradle and sighed softly. The conversation hadn't been what he expected nor had he spoken about anything he had intended to, but he found that that was okay and he knew there would be more time to speak with her as he silently promised himself and her that he would call whenever he could. With his heart feeling lighter than it had since he had seen her in Sokovia, Bucky left Rita's office and stopped by the counter to thank the elderly woman and order his morning coffee as he always had done since moving to the area. After bidding Rita a good morning and promising to see her the next day at the latest he made his way back to his dilapidated apartment.
Just as Bucky had crested the last flight of stairs that lead to what had become his home, his neighbor's door opened and the former soldier withheld the sigh that wanted to escape his lips. Standing there, fumbling with his keys and a series of notebooks was Liam Sterling. It took him a moment to notice Bucky but when he did he offered him a smile.
"Good morning, James."
Bucky dipped his head politely, "Morning."
He had hoped that the conversation would end there, but it seemed as if Liam had other plans as he quickly closed his door and locked it. "I was just about to head down to Rita's, actually, and didn't know if you wanted to join me?"
"I actually just came from there."
Liam's face seemed to fall slightly, the hopeful expression on his handsome features slacking before the man shrugged and instead offering him a light smile, "Maybe next time then. Anyway, I gotta get going…I'll see you around?"
Bucky only offered a brief nod before sliding into his apartment just as the other man waved and trotted down the stairs, just missing the lingering stare and the flash of the man's eyes before he disappeared. He didn't understand why, but there was something about Liam that made the former soldier uncomfortable.
With a deep sigh he closed and locked the door behind him before removing his jacket and sweatshirt and remaining in the t-shirt he had tossed over his head before leaving that morning. Glancing at the clock he could see that it was now nearly 8am and while he had woken up to horrors, Bucky couldn't deny that he felt the drain of exhaustion in his limbs. Shaking his head he hung his jacket up, tucking the gloves he had into the pockets as not to lose them before flopping back into the makeshift bed he had set up near the couch. His apartment was nothing special nor was it appealing to look at, but it was a semblance of home and most importantly it was his. It didn't take him long before he felt his eyes begin to close and his body unwind as he relaxed into the lumpy mattress, his last thought before falling into sleep once again was that maybe their promise would keep the nightmares at bay for a little while.
-0-
Longing
Oh, how you ache for gentle hands and familiar faces.
Yearning for a life stolen away.
You don't deserve it.
You'll never scrub the blood from your hands.
There is no one coming to save you now.
The images that swirled in his mind's eye were of Alice and himself – their time together and the small moments they shared. Suddenly he could see her from a few years ago, the near-feral way she fought against the Strike team to reach him, the way she begged for him to come to the surface of his programming and the way she had tried to fight against the Winter Soldier…against him. The shock on her face as she stared at Steve as if hoping he could confirm her worst fears and the tears that had stained her cheeks as she crumbled before him.
He saw Steve standing over him wearing a helmet and dressed in a jacket in the dimly lit room that he had been experimented on, the worry and fear etched into his youthful features. He saw the same man standing in front of him in his super hero costume with a tightened jaw and a resignation on his face that belayed the way his eyes shone with heartbreak. He hadn't wanted to fight him, but he would if only to save him from himself.
Bucky's brows furrowed tightly over his closed eyes. He knew the words his mind was echoing were wrong, he knew they weren't truthful and he told himself that they weren't. You're wrong, he told the voice in his head, the voice that was smooth as velvet and carrying a rich baritone that the former soldier had never heard before. Before he could truly force the words from his mind, the next word was beginning to echo in a cacophony of voices that melded into the single velvety baritone once more.
Rusted
Not the gleaming metal of your arm, no, they'll never allow that.
You're decaying on the inside.
Your mind a wasteland of busted parts that down turn the way they're supposed to.
Who are you?
Who were you?
Machine or human?
You don't know the difference, do you?
I'm human, Bucky screamed within his mind with a violent shake of his head. He knew these words were poison and he knew they weren't true. He never so desperately wished for the specter of Alice to appear in his mind before now, the ghostly form of the former nurse always brought a pain with her that was equal to the comfort she offered and yet Bucky knew he would prefer the woman over whatever this was.
His mind twisted with images of surgery after surgery as his body tried to reject the metal implant again and again before they managed to fuse man and machine together despite his wishes. During that time, he recalled, they had kept him as sedate as possible, not wanting to deal with the soldier who wished for nothing but freedom, or death depending what was granted to him first. Bucky's body shuddered as he gripped at his left arm where metal met flesh and he could feel the ghostly wounds he had inflicted upon himself as he tried to claw the metal arm from his body and leaving thick and twisted scars upon his chest in an effort to remove what they had given him.
A cold sweat had broken out on his brow as heat seemed to lick at his insides. All he wanted was a reprieve, but no matter how badly he begged he knew this was a dream he would be unable to wake immediately from, though the addition of the baritone was new and Bucky didn't want new when it came to these nightmares and so he pushed back as hard as he could.
Seventeen
Something inside of you is filled with anguish as you look at the pale face of the boy you've killed following orders.
He's tiny, all bloodstained blonde hair and empty blue eyes.
Something in your mind screams because he looks like someone you think you know.
They beat you for it.
You know no one.
You are a tool.
You've tried to remember why he was familiar, but there's nothing…only the bitter cold.
Bucky groaned, his body twisting and rolling right off of the mattress he had original settled into, the sleeping back he usually used twisting around his feet. He barely noticed his body reacting of its own accord as he pressed his face into the cool floor beneath him in an effort to give himself some semblance of reality.
Suddenly he wasn't fighting as hard as he stood before a scrawny 5 foot, 4 inch young man weighing no more than 95 pounds. The blonde's face was shaped in severe angles from the lack of healthy weight; his blue eyes stubborn and strong as they stared back at him; just as Bucky blinked the boy from his earliest memories suddenly grew into the man that would become known by the world as Captain America. But as the former soldier stared at the man that was once his best friend, his first love, he noticed a distinct hollowness to his expression and suddenly Bucky felt terror race through his veins as he was reliving the fight on the highway, metal hand clasped around the blonde's throat as the patriot fought to release the assassin's hold.
Daybreak
When was the last time you saw the sun?
You don't remember do you?
Even when you're outside, your skin is covered in black cloth and smeared with blood.
No amount of light can warm the frost from your bones.
The sun will never grace you with the heat again for you are a creature of winter.
The former soldier could feel the chill racing up his spine, the cold tendrils like nails as he shuddered against it and willing warmth to return to his body. He hated the cold and he hated the voice that continued to echo through his mind that reminded him of the ice that seemed ubiquitous in his very being. It wasn't always a literal feeling, but a metaphoric one as well. Bucky was very well aware that he could come off as cold, the wall he had quickly built around himself after escaping HYDRA had allowed for little compromise as he feared what he had become. Pushing people away was easier than dealing with the fallout of what could happen should they get too close.
But Alice is close, his mind seemed to whisper and breaking past the echoes that seemed vibrate his very skull. Alice is warmth.
Furnace
Explosions in trenches and the screams of men you no longer remember ring in your ears.
You can see those haunting blue eyes surrounded by flame, screaming for you to leave.
Not without him.
You'd rather die.
He felt his heart nearly stop in his chest as visions of the war assaulted him and the fear that accompanied that. He hated remembering the death that had surrounded him for nearly three years and not just within the trenches or at the field hospitals when he visited the men in his unit that had been wounded. He could still smell the gunpowder and smoke and he could still feel the earth quake and shatter around him and the screams of mortars in the air that drowned out the screams of men – boys – fighting a war that they hadn't been meant for.
His heart thundered in his chest.
Bucky could recall when he was first served his papers. He had been drafted into a war that he wanted no part of, a war that only a matter of years before had claimed his father and now he feared what would happen to his mother and his sisters should it claim him as well. No, his mind sobbed, it had claimed him! The former soldier could feel the sobs crack through him like lightning across the sky as his body heaved with the need of release yet he couldn't find one. He didn't know what he had done to deserve this special hell, but he knew this was something he needed to ride out.
Nine
Not the kind of hell that is fire and brimstone.
That's reserved for the lustful and the envious and you are neither.
You are in the ninth circle, encased in ice.
You read in school about the ninth circle being the Prison of Lucifer, remember?
You shiver with cold and realize you're the devil.
You've become him.
I'm not, he told himself, I'm nothing like him. If I was, Alice would have told me…or she would have feared me. His lungs shuddered as he tried to pull in oxygen, telling himself he needed to actually breathe, but his body continued to betray him. He could feel his fists tightening and releasing as he fisted whatever he could find in that moment. All the while he told himself that this wasn't true, begged for it not to be true. He was not the devil, nor would he ever become one.
Benign
There is still a part of you inside, locked away where they will never find him.
A part of you that is kind.
He weeps at what you've become.
Trapped in his own mind, screaming to break free.
When he manages to escape, they lock him back away with bloody fists and blue shocks of electricity.
He learns to stay huddled away where they can't hurt him.
Silent.
Broken.
Bucky couldn't help but notice the irony and suddenly he was fighting against the echoing baritone once more. How dare the voice tell him what he was and what he had been through!? They couldn't know what it was like to be made and unmade again and again with no reprieve. He knew the person he had been was not at fault for the person he had become and he knew that he could and would strive to become a better person.
He was able to make choices now and the person he wanted to be wasn't a killer.
Homecoming
Home is chaos and death and destruction.
Frost in your hair and a chill that never leaves.
It used to be a girl.
The one with the wide brown eyes that stay burned in your splintered memory no matter how much they beat you.
She's gone now.
You're never going home.
Another sob wracked through him as his body arched as if he were a cat prepared to fight for its life, as if arching away would lessen the pain of memory that had begun to take hold. He had spoken to her less than an hour ago! She was a continent away, sleeping in her bed and dreaming! She was alive and she was soft! He grit his teeth and bared down with as much strength as he could as if he did so physically would allow him to do so mentally. Alice was safe and she was temperance and love and comfort – she was all of the things that reminded him of what home could be – should be!
Like a warm cup of chai she came to him in his mind's eye, her brown eyes open and inviting as she gazed at him. Gone was the reserved and guarded expression on her face that she had worn that night in Sokovia and replaced with an open countenance that exuded hope and love. Her sandy skin haloed by the dark tresses of her long and waving hair made her appear as a dream was more present in this vision than he had ever managed to picture before. Bathed in light she reached for him, her lips curved into a smile that welcomed him warmly. She was home and he was going to do his damnedest to be a home she deserved too.
One
The lowest cardinal number.
Half of two.
Half of a whole.
Lonely, desolate, broken, hurt.
You are alone; truly and utterly alone.
No, he told himself despite the chills that wracked through him despite the fire that burned within him. He wasn't alone and he wouldn't be again. He could be whatever he wanted to be and he could make choices that were completely independent and worthy and he knew that the voice, despite the smooth quality and the strength it carried had a weak argument. Bucky knew that the voice was losing hold within his mind and he refused to give in as he imagined spiced chai – an intoxicating mix of vanilla and clove with a trace of cinnamon that always reminded him of Alice.
The voice was right about one thing and that he was a half of a whole and he knew that they would be stronger together and he knew to believe in that with all of his heart despite the pain that seemed to strike him with the memory of every abuse he had suffered. No longer was he desolate and no longer was he utterly alone – he was working on the broken pieces of himself one day at a time and he knew that with every step he took forward he was stronger than the day before.
Freight Car
Where it all began.
A glimpse of those terrified blue eyes – the brush of a gloved hand and then you're falling.
Falling next to white snowflakes as you hurtle toward the earth.
It's peaceful still and then you become one with the cold.
Your blood staining the pure white around you.
They drag you away, but that's not what made you.
It was the fall.
You've become the bitter chill of winter.
With a violent push in his mind, Bucky fought his way out of the nightmare and returned to reality. It took him a moment to reorient himself as he gazed around the apartment and taking note of the things within it. He had briefly read something about grounding in one of the many books he had borrowed from Rita and he dragged his hand through his now damp hair and grimacing at the way his body trembled.
He didn't understand where that had all come from, the addition of the deep baritone to his nightmares was unusual and the voice almost reminded him of Liam's. Shaking his head at how ridiculous that sounded he concluded that the voice only sounded like his neighbor because that was the last person he had spoken to. With a deep sigh, Bucky untangled himself from the sleeping bag before stumbling into his tiny bathroom in hopes that a shower would help ease his still shuddering body. As he caught himself in the mirror, the former soldier actively forced himself to stare at the man that peered back at him.
He took in the tired lines about his face, the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones that seemed to frame his lips that were hidden mostly by the regrowth of his beard. The blue of his eyes appeared more grey in this moment and had an almost haunted quality to them, but beyond that he could see his former self staring back at him; a young man full of dreams and aspirations. He felt sadness for that part of him and he mourned him, but buried there was a hope and one that Bucky knew he would need to actively feed if he ever wanted to become half the man he had once been. Despite his disheveled appearance he could feel the small sprouts beginning to bloom within him and in that moment he promised himself he would continue fighting.
He was going to fight for himself and he was going to fight to be better than he was. Bucky owed it to Alice, and more importantly himself, to actively heal so that he could navigate this world as best as he could and maybe he could find happiness in that.
Bucky Barnes was going to do his best and his best would have to be enough for the world.
End Note: Here we have it guys! So this chapter literally came so easily to me because I think we all needed a small reprieve from the main storyline to check in with our favorite brainwashed assassin ;) I had so much fun writing this one for you guys and I know, two updates in a week who is she!?
But enough of that let's get into some of the meat and potatoes here!
There's a lot going on with Bucky within my story recently and a lot of that centers around the insecurity of not really being able to sort through his emotions properly. He can identify certain ways he's feeling and he can assign them to certain memories or instances, but it's something he struggles with and this was taken directly from the way Sebastian speaks about Bucky during this time - more specifically during Civil War. Sebastian has said that the way he approached Bucky in Civil War was almost like a Alzheimer's sufferer as he tends to more easily forget things and so he has notebooks that he uses to prevent himself from forgetting because at this point it's his largest fear. Bucky fears losing himself and waking up to find that he's nothing again and that echos here.
Also, we get to see a passage from the notebooks he stole from Alice's home back in chapter 18 ;) You all thought I forgot didn't ya? Joking aside, Bucky spends time reading the first notebook as opposed to the second and there's a few reasons for that. Not only is he trying to learn more about her and get a better idea of who she is to him, but he's trying to understand her especially after she revealed herself as a mutant to him in Sokovia.
You'll notice that in Bucky chapters I tend to only address Alice is "former nurse" as opposed to "mutant" like I do throughout the story and that's because he doesn't see her as a mutant at all. He only really remembers her as a nurse and so that's why in these chapters I use it - it's a small world-building piece that I really like to use especially when doing selective POV work!
For those wondering: yes in my canon Bucky is bisexual!
I have a headcanon to his bisexuality that Bucky is and was 100% in love with Steve, but because Steve is interested in women and just awkward in general he never returned the same sentiment and so Bucky (again in my headcanon) decided that being friends with Steve was enough for him - taking the rejection as gracefully as one can and going about his business. And a small head nod to this (other than just saying it later in the chapter) was the fact that he objectively finds his neighbor attractive - but let's be honest, Bucky has more things going on than feeling any kind of affection for anyone let alone a complete stranger to him.
Speaking of - let's talk about the activation word nightmare...yeah I know what you're all going to say: LEAVE BUCKY ALONE *Chris Crocker voice* (for those too young to get this reference he was the Britney Spears fan that became famous for literally the "Leave Britany alone" meme). I know guys, but trust me there's a reason why I keep doing this and one of the main reasons is because this is the main source of trauma for him. Of course he's not going to really cross this hurdle until Wakanda as seen from the Disney+ show...ya know, CAATWS ;), but I feel like in between TWS timeline and CW this is what he's mainly dealing with.
Now, the words beneath each one...if anyone can guess who this is I'll be VERY impressed, but it's okay if you haven't put everything together yet. I will confirm one thing here and that it's an outside source that is feeding him these words. But in doing so, it's allowing him to hear what nonsense it is and to fight against it in an effort to reclaim a bit more of himself because we love a boy who can tell the difference between truth and lies, lol.
And then we have him gathering some courage to speak with Alice which is a huge step as I'm sure you could imagine!
All jokes aside, I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! And without further adieu, let's get into my favorite part of this whole end note bit!
A very special thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed/subscribed or just read this story so far! There's a lot here and I appreciate you all taking this journey with me!
Also a special thank you to kyro232 and Love. Fiction. 2021, for their reviews of the last chapter! I really cannot say how much I appreciate you all for taking time to review my story!
And if you haven't already - please check out my dear friend, simmerandcry's story "Show Me, Don't Tell Me"! It's an incredible and amazing and just truly wonderful Bucky/Steve/OC story and it's a real treat especially if you like some good fluff! She just finished this story and has posted her sequel entitled "Only For a Moment" and it's just incredible already and just 4 chapters in! Also if you love Alice as much as I do, she makes some special appearances in simmerandcry's timeline ;) Not only should you go and send some love for these two stories, BUT it was her birthday on Sunday and you should go wish her a belated happy birthday ;) lol!
Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful rest of your weekend and that you're all staying safe and healthy!
Love you all,
xoxo Eirlys
Next chapter: Wade's girlfriend/fiancé is kidnapped by Ajax, Alice and Sam argue The Real Housewives and the Bartons have a baby~!