SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 4 OF FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER!
"I like 40's music, so…"
James Buchanan Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Season 1, Episode 3.
Nine Weeks Pre-Snap.
"I wanna marry you. As soon as I can. I feel like… it's… I dunno, like… the final piece? Is that weird? Does that sound corny?"
If there was one thing Bucky could never quite get his head around, it was cooking. Yes, he could nail the basics down but when the person in question is a Brooklyn soldier whose last culinary memory is a hotdog stand, I think it stands to reason that James Buchanan Barnes was not fussy. Hence, the standard he held his own cooking to was not very high. Lots of… Bucky called them cans. Elsa called them tins.
His imminent wife, on the other hand… Despite a career of her own, knowing how to cook came as expected in the elitism she had been raised in; for a girl, at least. And since she was the only one in her family…
Thankfully, Elsa had thrown a firm middle finger to that system, pissed off to Africa, met the love of her life and, at that moment, was in the throes of wedding plans. Where did cooking come into it? Well, why shouldn't she and her partner/fiancé/(soon to be) husband enjoy good food? Even if it was thrown together after a day of work? Preparing and eating it together ensured quality and bonding time that their busy work lives limited. And it meant Bucky cooking remained a last, desperate resort.
Leftovers? If they existed after the ex-Winter Soldier filled himself? It simply ensured more time in bed.
The Very Thought of You, by Al Bowlly, a pre-war classic, droned low from the countertop; the sentiment of it prompting Bucky to gently tighten the sating squeeze on his little vet's waist as she stirred.
The very thought of you…
And I forget to do…
The little ordinary things…
That everyone ought to do…
Eyes closed. Forehead aligned with the top of her spine. Inhaling slowly. Exhaling just as slow. Could he restrain the grin as she reached back and buried her spare hand in his hair, massaging her tips into his roots oh so soothingly? No. Definitely not as she tilted a scarce few degrees back into his hold to just… be closer.
"Absolutely corny but also possibly one of the most adorable things you've ever said so I'll allow it."
"You'll allow it?" He managed, playfully incredulous in his laugh without compromising their stance. "Wow. Thanks… Is that what I'm gettin' into? Might change my mind…"
I'm living in a kind of daydream…
I'm happy as a king…
And foolish, though it may seem…
To me, that's everything…
"I feel a big but coming on. You want to marry me, but…?"
"Only big butt 'round here is… yours."
Endeared to no end and fully expecting such a response, Elsa simply shook her head and placed the pan towards the back of the hob (stove) to simmer; the rice would not take long.
"Bright spark strikes again." She jibed softly, coyly, moving for the first time but only to safely relocate herself a few inches away from the hot rings; she took her White Wolf with her. "You're deflecting, love. With the same level of maturity Cody would if he could talk. And the big butt has its mutual advantages. Or, so you've pointed out more than once"
"You keep distractin' me." Small of her back resting against the counter, the lioness accepted the resumption of his guarding mantel over her and the adoration-laced kiss that followed.
The mere idea of you…
The longing here, for you…
You'll never know…
How slow the moments go…
'Till I'm near to you…
"All I have to do is walk past you to distract you, the big butt being the usual culprit. So, allow me to put you back on track so I can no longer be accused of distracting you. You want to marry me as soon as you can but…?"
I see your face in every flower…
Your eyes in stars above…
It's just the thought of you…
The very thought of you, my love…
Hesitation. She found it in the uncertain side-flicker of his eyes and the thinning of his freshly released lips. In the exasperated sigh and the removal of his arm to rub the back of his neck. Clearly, the words required careful choosing.
"But... I need to know its fully gone before I can do that. I need to know that I can't be weaponized and hurt anyone ever again. Especially you. You more than anyone else…" Once more, Bucky faltered; marinating in his own brand of self-doubt. Despite their engagement and regular, undying declarations to each other, sometimes he truly realized how deep said doubt ran when it reared its ugly head. Certain topics stoked it, like the very mention of them to her would send her scarpering, never to be seen again; like it was too much of an assumption, so he broached it carefully.
"And… I'd be scared bein' a dad if I couldn't trust myself once and for all."
The mere idea of you…
The longing here, for you…
You'll never know…
How slow the moments go…
'Till I'm near to you…
Naturally, being as driven to parenthood as Bucky (as evidenced by a heart wrenching negative pregnancy test), Elsa did not bat an eyelid at the mention of children; wanting them as dearly as he did. Rather, her concern centred on this fixation.
"I'm confused, sweetheart. I thought Shuri got it all out? What more could you possibly-?"
"There's only one way to find out, Els. When I came here, I was so sure I never wanted to hear those Goddamn words again but now… I think there's no other way for me to know it's safe for me to move on with my life; to have my wife and my kids and leave the Winter Soldier behind."
"Don't forget Cody."
"Technically, he's our first kid. But uhh… some two-legged one's'd be nice too. I'd just prefer not to be a risk to 'em."
"Well, if you're sure then I will-" The little vet, in all her practical and supportive seriousness had the fullest of intentions in making the process run as smoothly as possible. Her fiancé, on the other hand, had other plans; delivered with yet another kiss and the impish, mischievous grin that usually involved Steve, Cody or both.
"Nuh-uh. Nice try but I'm doin' this to keep you safe so you're stayin' as far away from that shitshow as I can keep you. Just in case."
"So what are you going to do? Shuri? T'Challa?"
"No. T'Challa has enough to keep him busy and I don't wanna undermine Shuri's confidence if the triggers work so… Ayo. If anyone can keep me in line, it's one of the Dora. She's already said she'll help me." The next best thing, Elsa could concede, but… what if he needed comforting? What if he needed to be held and cuddled? Jealousy did not enter the equation, it simply came down to: No one can look after him like I can. I've had plenty of practice.
"Darling, as much as I trust Ayo, I do think-"
"It's not happenin', doll. At least I know that if somethin' happens and I get outta hand, you're outta harm's way and Ayo can handle me. She can call in more of the Dora if she needs to."
"I can't say I'm not disappointed."
"I know but… I couldn't face myself if somethin' happened. One of our first nights I had a terror and grabbed your wrist… I think about that a lot. Kick myself about it a lot. So… you'll stay here? Please?"
I see your face in every flower…
Your eyes in stars above…
It's just the thought of you…
The very thought of you, my love…
"Alright, James. You win."
Eight Weeks Pre-Snap
Dusk, of a critical night. The air hung still, the starry evening clear but fear crackled around one particular individual.
"I love you..." Came the dread- tainted murmur meant for one and one only; the one he clutched close, his nose lined with hers. "I love you so Goddamn much, you've no idea..."
"Everything is going to be fine." The little vet, his saviour in steel toecaps, crooned; cupping her fiancé's cheek to stroke the stubble she adored with her thumb. His response? Twisting his chin to plant a benign kiss to her palm.
"If this doesn't work… Or… if it does… you have every right to call off the wedding. I'll totally understand, you know that, right-?"
"Christ, and I'm dramatic?"
"I'm just sayin'… If you don't feel safe, I won't hold it against you."
"Is this your way of breaking up with me?" Elsa prodded, injecting a much-needed shot of humour with the sweet trademark beam to match; a massively appreciated gesture that Bucky, despite being on the verge of terrified tears, could not help the coughed laugh rumbling in his chest. "You can't laugh and cry at the same time, love. That's cheating. Pick one." With that ultimatum (and another laugh), Bucky chose the former.
Though the farmyard and the surrounding enclosures had been empty for the past hour or so with no animals out there as an excuse for their presence, something else kept the couple in the cool, night air.
"Guess that's my cue." Watering eyes lifting from yet another clinging embrace, Bucky spotted his summoning from over his beloved's shoulder; the calling dance of a bonfire on the hillside in the woods. "I better go."
"I love you." The lioness took her turn in the declaration that seemed to increase in its meaning with use and time, rather than decrease. One last kiss solidified it. "I'll have food ready when you get back." Poor Bucky: so consumed with nerves, food had held no appeal at dinnertime; a very unusual thing indeed.
She watched him go, after reluctantly disentangling himself from her grasp; heading into the darkness she had routinely warned him against.
"The White Wolf has already vanquished the Winter Soldier." She called confidently, matter of factly, to his retreating back, prompting one of many, longing turns on his backwards trek for the reassurance of his beloved.
"Go back inside, baby. It's cold."
"It is time."
The fire that had called Bucky to the woods on the hillside was not the only one but, as a purposeful beacon, it was the largest. Several smaller ones provided light and heat; with that, Elsa would be satisfied that he wouldn't be cold.
Els… He thought, staring into the crackling, sparking flames; mind drawn to their fireplace in the "kitchen", the same one that heated the whole hut and kept him and the beginnings of his family warm when the curtain of darkness fell. Such a small thing, a simple thing but… he would discover that those seemingly insignificant details would prove invaluable for what he was about to undertake. Still, petrified, James Buchanan Barnes had to ask.
"You sure about this?"
Ayo, in her full Dora Milaje regalia, complete with Vibranium spear made for an impressive sight; even in the dark. As Bucky took to the ground where she indicated, he could not be sure if it relieved him or not: Seeing her so battle-ready. With any luck, she would not have to break a sweat that night. So steady, strong and regal, Ayo embodied the very spirit of the Dora and their ancestral home of Wakanda. As the backbone of the royal family's security, only the best were handpicked, and Ayo was no exception; the truest of loyalty on a parr with Okoye.
"I won't let you hurt anyone." With somewhat rare gentility, Ayo took him in from above, his reasonings still solid in her head. She had seen him and the lioness at her recent naturalization practically enveloped in each other, heard the surprised gossiping from all who laid eyes upon them. More to the point, Shuri's screaming announcement of their engagement to her and Okoye the next day merely galvanized it: The White Wolf had found his mate. That night took it further: He would do anything to protect her.
With that, they began.
"Желание…" Longing…
Bucky took a breath and focused on the fire. The ever-present fear bubbled in his stomach but even with the mere first word, he would seize control and refuse to let it go. The first one usually tended to be the easiest to resist but he held out hope that it would not get more difficult.
"Ржавый…" Rusted…
Breath through it… He remembered his beloved saying; her nose buried in his neck that morning while trepidation surfaced early at the thought of the night ahead. Think about what you have. What you want to keep. And everything you have to gain. Think about me, waiting here for you. If what you're saying is true, sweetheart, that should be all you need.
"Семнадцать…" Seventeen…
James Buchanan Barnes resisted the fog that usually began to cloud his brain by now. The fog that only got denser with each vile word. Still, the flame kept his unwavering, unblinking attention; crucial to riding out the grip of the Winter Soldier once and for all. Even if it was not overly apparent by looking at him. The near-blank stare, combined with the words, more often than not ended in a rampage.
"It's not gonna work." He croaked in English, unable to keep the break from his voice. Was he telling himself that in a bid to reinforce it to himself? To strengthen this commitment to himself and his lioness? Or… In a more hopeless vain… Had he given up, finding the pull of whatever little Hydra remnants lingering too strong? Ayo did not stop to find out, just prepared herself.
"Pассвеt …" Daybreak…
The White Wolf (and he so badly wanted to keep that title) forced another heaving inhale; ever loyal to the fire, ever loyal to his soulmate waiting for him but blinked for the first time, fighting his way through without moving a muscle.
Memories began to flood, churned up by the words that Ayo recited with purpose; as if she wanted the Winter Soldier to make an appearance. She may not have wanted it, but she steeled herself for it nonetheless.
If Bucky could separate a tiny portion of his brain, he may have been grateful for refusing food at dinner. With the cramps folding into his stomach, even his favourite dish would more than likely have ended up all over the ground by now.
The first flash before his eyes embodied something as inconsequential as a notebook; a red leather one with a black star. He had owned many notebooks, prized them even, but thinking of them only brought him a dip of sadness that he was mostly able to overcome; lost after his arrest in Bucharest and never to be seen again. They did not, however, inspire unintelligible rage like this one did.
"Печь…" Furnace…
The latest prompt spawned more memories; fleeting, jumbled, colliding and morphing but collaging into a nightmare. Still, Bucky Barnes weathered them with Vibranium-clad determination. He breathed through first-person relived kills, hand-to-hand combat (training and in the field), stoically receiving orders, untold carnage and victim after victim after victim…
In short: Unimaginable violence. Senseless… All of it.
But Ayo, resolute in her promise, kept going.
"Девять…" Nine…
There remained no trace of Hydra poison in James Buchanan Barnes, a genius princess had made sure of that. So it was nothing of Hydra's design that caused the snarling contortion of Bucky's normally amiable (since meeting Elsa, at least) features; certainly not the Winter Soldier coming to the fore.
"Доброкачественные…" Benign…
Rather, like his nightmares, the sheer trauma elicited involuntary reactions of pain and overwhelming guilt. Now… The only difference was being awake. More flashes, more agony, some of it resonating almost physically from God knows how long ago; the chair in the middle of a Siberian bunker with that contraption strapped to his head… That alone would do it.
"Возвращение домой…" Homecoming…
Keeping with his namesake, Bucky bared his teeth in pure steadfast perseverance; the title of the White Wolf would be earned truly earned that night, never to be stripped from him. Tears of both strain and unexchangeable blame glassed his eyes as more acts of irreversible barbarity rolled on before them but the flames kept him firm.
I need to do this… I need to get through it and get home to my wife… She's gonna be my wife if I can do this… The Prettiest Girl in Brooklyn, The Best Vet in Wakanda is gonna be my wife…
"Один…" One…
A sudden… decompression…claimed the White Wolf's entire being; ebbing initially at the edges of his consciousness so subtly he almost didn't notice. The pressure, despite the words being yet incomplete, had started to subside; manifesting itself in a single tear, spilling and snail-trailing down his cheek.
"грузовой вагон…" Freight Car…
The last word served as little more than a formality.
He felt… nothing. Or rather… He had the consciousness to know he felt nothing; even if the realization took a few seconds to click.
No blinding smog. No disabling hold of his autonomy. No pre-programmed and involuntary disposition to have his will bent for someone else's ends. James Buchanan Barnes just felt like… James Buchanan Barnes. Immediately, Bucky lightened; the fear, melancholy and strife dissipating and in their place?
Relief. The likes of which he had never felt and probably never would again. So deep and so meaningful, he did nothing to wipe or swat the tears that followed.
Ayo took a breath, proud and endeared all at once; even allowing herself the barest ghost of a smile. Through it, she finally declared:
"You are free."
In hopeful disbelief, watering, leaking eyes heightened to where Ayo stood; as if, in some terrible, twisted turn that he had heard her wrong. With an assuring nod and the smile unwavering, she softly confirmed it once more.
"You are free."
The Winter Soldier… was dead. Slain by the White Wolf once and for all to claim his own peace. The gravity of it clenched his lungs, squeezed his eyes and forced the most wonderful sob ever tumble from human lips. And another… And another. While reality hit.
"I have played my part, White Wolf." Ayo drew his attention from the spot of nothing ahead that seemed to have ensnared him; so taken up with the newfound freedom that any spot would do while he unravelled. Red and stinging, obscuring their usual blue, Bucky's eyes followed her benevolent interjection. "I leave you to someone else now."
Before confusion (and further distress) could land, or before he even noticed the light sound to his left, a thump reverberated on the moss-smothered ground beside him. Chest still heaving and weeping unstemmed, he did not have the time or inclination to fix himself before the envelopment of arms around his shoulders and the grateful press of lips to his cheek registered.
Elsa indulged in a sniffle of her own.
Instead of berating her (if he could have even formed the words) or scolding her for ignoring his wishes, Bucky simply folded and clung to his lioness like he never had before. Don't let her go. Never let her go. Ever, ever again. The running joke of his "favourite place to be" being buried in a polo shirt clad chest (usually minus the polo shirt for maximum comfort and effect) took on an intensified and deeper meaning at that moment; solace and closeness abound. While her fiancé soaked her polo shirt with liberated tears and wracked her entire body just by holding it to his, Elsa made it her business to seek out Ayo from where she had been anchored to the ground.
"Thank you…" She sniffed, indebted; sharing a special moment between a beholden bride and the selfless Dora warrior who had been prepared for war alone. With little more than one last nod and a grimace, Ayo departed; leaving the lovers to each other.
"Bucky… Sweetheart..." Elsa, in her concerned gentility, leaned in and pressed yet another kiss to her partner's head; anything to try and rouse him. "Come on, darling. Let's get you home."
I see your face in every flower…
Your eyes in stars above…
It's just the thought of you…
The very thought of you, my love…
Who would you rather see Elsa slap?
Helmut Zemo or John Walker?
If it's just one slap... I'd try and line them up, get them both together. Then set Bonnie loose to chase them off!
50 chapters in, folks! Thanks for sticking with me! It's a long'un! Over 3,000 words!
Apologies to Russian readers/speakers. I did my best!
Do review if you enjoyed!
Contemplating another actual Falcon and Winter Soldier fic. Thoughts?