2/3
It was over.
It was over and as a crippling consequence, the witty and unshakeable Man of Iron had fallen.
Gods. Royalty. Aliens. Superhumans. Wizards. All knelt to a mere mortal; a gifted one, but a mortal, a human, nonetheless.
While the dust settled and debris sat scattered, his widow wept. His unofficial adoptee not far behind her, physically or emotionally. His best friend also doing his best to keep himself together and scarcely succeeding.
And Bucky, dutifully and reverently joined them on his knee, his head flopping in despondency as a route to redemption closed itself to him.
What the Hell happened…?
The initial murmurs came with creased brows and raised eyebrows as friends they had only seemingly seen very recently bundled them into their arms and refused to let go. Clarity usually came with ashen faces and disbelief.
Five years… Bucky kept hearing, casting his eyes around at these strange reunions; Steve and Thor had taken it upon themselves to gently move Tony's body with Pepper at his side and Peter trailing behind like a lost puppy. Five years what…?
"They're sayin' we've been gone for five years." An unnerved Sam Wilson provided with an uncertain edge once he had located the ex-Winter Soldier; the mere concept of it still very much alien to him, enough to impart it to someone else to see if they felt the same. "Thanos got his way and half of us got full blast of it."
"That can't be right." Bucky tried to reason, looking around for something to back himself up. Or… just to be distracted enough not to puke. "It can't be. What-?"
"Look at Steve." The Falcon dropped his voice, following his own advice to their mutual friend in the distance. White Wolf silently complied, only for his stomach to plummet further. He had a beard… Like an hour ago, he had a beard… "I hate to say it… but it looks like it could be true."
Questioning and debating how seemed redundant. Steve and Bucky were a how and here they were. This whole shitshow of the Titan turning up on Earth (among a million other impossibilities manifesting themselves) was also a how. Taking it as it came just seemed easier than endless questions he may not understand the answers to didn't matter. Not anymore.
"White Wolf." A soft call roused him from behind and Bucky's heart jolted, but turning, he found Shuri instead. It's not her. Deflating internally, he had not even tried to unravel the outlandish concept (the mystery still too fresh) where his Lioness was concerned but he did know, his mind had first jumped to her. "We are leaving soon." She offered, tone remaining soft in respect for not just Tony Stark, but the others who had given their lives. "Are you coming with us?"
Of course, there was only one answer to that.
"Yeah…" Vacantly, Bucky's thin-lipped grimace radiated a mix of emotions, but his focus had returned to Steve exhaustedly making his way back towards them. "Yeah, just… gimme a sec."
Unlike the Quinjet, superior technology and materials made the Wakandan equivalent absolutely silent; both within and without.
Without that noise to drown out the buzzing in his skull, it made for a long flight back for James Buchanan Barnes. Furthermore, staring blankly ahead meant that no one attempted to engage with him. Both a blessing and a curse.
What else could he do but wait and replay his short conversation with Steve? Even in a vehicle of the most advanced and flawless technology, the journey still took time; each passing minute eating away at the lining of Bucky's stomach. His petrified fidgeting with his wedding ring did not go unnoticed as a King and a Princess exchanged concerned glances with little to offer in the way of comfort or insight; being as indisposed as him. It did not take much imagination, however, to deduce what plagued him.
"Where is she…?" Bucky had asked, anxious and breathless for innumerable reasons, when the battle had finally drawn to a close and he found his old friend mourning a newer one. Steve's hesitation had not yet registered as strange or suspicion-inducing; the guilt sparkling in his eyes had to be misplaced.
"She's right where you left her, Buck." Steve had answered with a sorrowful grimace and a clap to Bucky's upper arm. "Right where you left her, pal." He thought nothing of it, given the toll of the battle and the close loss the blonde had just suffered. With a promise to speak soon and a quick parting handshake with Wilson, Bucky simply joined T'Challa, Shuri and the rest of the present Wakandan forces.
Which brought him back to where he was now; none the wiser as he sat forward, both elbows braced on his knees, clenching both hands together. That's gonna take some getting used to on the farm.
If the farm is still there. If Elsa is still there. But Steve said… Steve wasn't one hundred percent convincing. He wouldn't let me walk in blind though? He wouldn't tell me that if he knew she was with someone else with kids everywhere? No… But he knew something…
Before Bucky could torture himself even further, movement from the corner of his eye prompted them to lift to the cabin around him.
They were landing.
If Bucky's perturbation on the plane had not been enough, it reached fever pitch when he found the farm in darkness. Had the clawing terror in his gut allowed him to think clearly, it would have been perfectly reasonable to assume because it was nighttime.
Well… A few hours left of it, at least.
Key still works He thought to himself, feeling a slight ease but paranoia refusing him much relief.
Inside, as sacred ritual dictated, Bucky took to the kitchen table to ease his boots from his feet; scarcely illuminated by dying embers of the fire from the night before. Those boots, caked with blood and dirt, would be disposed of at his first chance; never wishing to lay eyes on them again. With that done, he sat there numb for a moment as his anxiety climbed again.
Enhancement, in every part of his being, had been part and parcel of the Winter Soldier program. For now, the most tormenting element of that being his eyes, fixated through the dark on the bed directly across; specifically the lump in it. I'm so close. But it could all go so wrong, so fast.
Thump.
Bucky's eyes narrowed at the motion-prompted sound though the lump remained largely unmoving, the noise snatching him from his train of thought.
What the-?
Thump.
There it was again.
Thump thump.
Warily, James leaned back in his chair and clicked the small lamp on the kitchen counter only for the result to punch him hard in the chest.
No wonder I didn't see you. The words coming into his mind naturally, his front tooth catching his trembling lip in a bid to stop himself crying out to the chorus of a fresh batch of thumps.
Cody's tail on the mattress.
As if mindful of the bed's other occupant, the mongrel (mostly disguised in the dark by his colouring) sloped carefully from the bed and into his father's open arms; complete with heart wrenching sniffles and welling eyes. Cody, of course, brought his tennis ball.
"No, no. Not now." Bucky quietened, welling eyes flickering to the bed from over the dog's shoulder though he would be lying if he said he didn't find the smell of Cody's coat and the jet-black bristles against his face immensely comforting. Although…
Finding his feet, his breath shortening in his lungs, he resolved he had to do something and so, proceeded to pluck the ball from Cody's jaws, steeled himself, inhaled again…
And tossed.
"Cody…" Came the sleep-addled groan from the lump; the accent that had always driven Bucky's heart to the edge of bursting but now… Like on his wedding day, he fully expected to drop dead on the spot. "No. Go back to bed."
"Sorry." Forcing his tongue to work and wrap around an injection of hopeful cheekiness, Bucky spoke up; only to watch the lump stiffen, mid-avoiding squirm of Cody's seeking nose. "Sorry, that was me." He wouldn't have seen it but facing the wall, eyes of bright blue snapped open in utter astonishment, disbelief, and confusion as to whether she had heard it at all. Her face settled into heart-jolting realization and the resulting shock; even if she didn't fully believe it. And who could blame her? Wrestling through the impeding blankets, tiredness forgotten, the Lioness sat up and stared.
"Hey, baby." The White Wolf managed, on the verge of crumbling as he patiently watched her slow, stupefied realization (bearing in mind what he had been told about five Goddamn years) and let her come to him within her own comfort. "It's me. I'm home." He couldn't be sure if those last words had made it out or not; not when the force of his little wife's entire body collided with his and winded him in the process.
"Sshhh… Hey… Els, baby, c'mon… Don't cry, baby, please don't- Okay…" Pleading would obviously do nought; not when the explosion of emotion erupted into his chest cut him clean off and proved his words to be wasted. Instead, he opted to simply comfort them both by enveloping her tight to his torso, burying his nose in her hair and indulging in a few wispy breaths of his own. Rocking his beloved gently from side to side, the wracking heaving of her chest against his own rippling the self-doubt within his own; diminishing it significantly.
That did not last. Not for very long, anyway.
The Lioness had a reputation of care and consideration to others and so, when she finally looked up properly at her husband (not having changed very much, he noted), ruby-eyed and pink-cheeked, she swung into that role immediately. Seating his chin and lower jaw in her cupped palms, Elsa frantically looked him over for something to be rectified; scrutinizing every inch like he'd never been scrutinized.
"Are you hurt?!"
"No, doll, I'm f-"
"That's blood!"
"It's not mine, I sw-"
"Are you sure?!"
"I mean, I think so, but-"
"You need food!" Trust you, baby. With the greatest reluctance, he pried them apart and took her in, really took her in for the first time in the five long, torturous years he had known nothing about.
"I think all I want now is a shower and bed."
Through the haze of steam and the water's warm caress, Bucky's mind raced.
What do I even say to her…?
Do I kiss her…?
What if she doesn't love me anymore…?
What if there's someone else in the picture…?
Why wouldn't there be…? Five years is a long time, and she didn't know I was comin' back… I couldn't have expected her to wait…
The internal bombardment could hardly be exclusive to him, not when so many had vanished while in love, freshly married, or looking forward to building a life with someone who would ultimately survive the Snap. Or, in James' case, all three. He did not have the luxury of consultation with any of those people to compare notes with his wife (was she still his wife?) outside.
As it happened, she was right, and the blood was his but the bleeding from his arm and his thigh appeared to have stopped some time ago. With his mind preoccupied in limbo, he had not noticed. Just as he failed to notice the abundance of blood, mud and soot swirling at the bottom of the shower amid the suds.
Well… Bucky reasoned to himself with a sigh, taking one last inhale of lung-cleansing steam before shutting off the water. Only one way to find out.
Hair semi-dry (to the best of his towelling ability), James emerged from the bathroom to find that despite his declaration of just needing a shower and bed, crackers, cheese, chocolate, lunchmeat, and tea had been set out should he want them; whatever she could throw together on short notice. Out of appreciation, he nibbled.
"Uhh…" Looking around, Bucky's tongue unstuck a clump of wet cracker crumbs from behind his molar; all the while conscious of wife's curious gaze from where she had resettled in the bed. "Do you uhh… want me to sleep on the couch or…?"
"The couch?" Elsa repeated, curiosity intensifying; carrying from her voice into her features. "Why would I want you to sleep on the couch?"
"I dunno, I just-"
"I want my husband in bed with me, where he belongs. Where he should have been all along. Get your arse in here."
"It's really been five years, huh?"
"It has."
Relief, unparalleled relief, and comfort ebbed at Bucky's entire being; physically, mentally, emotionally. Back in his own bed, his own dog lining the bottom and his own wife back in his arms.
"I swear, it only feels like yesterday that I saw you at the palace…" Nose to nose, eyes locked, as close as they could physically be, a pair (still) very much in love savoured the reunion of incredible odds; a further sign that they were meant to be like no one else. However, the White Wolf felt his heart sink a little at the sad smile his comment elicited.
"It was a long, hard five years."
Bucky, without much of a comforting answer, simply shuffled himself closer and gifted the first life-restoring kiss to his little vet; the gesture meaning more than he would ever know.
"I'm back now." He promised resolutely, drawing back just enough to passionately hammer it home and look hard into her eyes to ensure she absorbed and never forgot it. "And I swear. to. God. I'm never leavin' you again."
Rather than being too drawn into the sentiment and upsetting herself again, Elsa's answer didn't manifest verbally but in an exceptionally clear signal when her lips found his again; a green light Bucky hadn't expected to get this soon.
"Els, you sure you wanna do this?" Came the murmur in the fresh semi-darkness, the kitchen lamp extinguished in favour of moonlight as he relished the taste he hadn't realized he'd missed but dutifully pulled back from anyway.
"I love how gentlemanly you are, James."
"No, I'm serious. You know what you do to me, you know I find it hard to stop when I get goin'."
"Yes. I'm sure. Why, don't you want to?" A laughable concept. James Buchanan Barnes had never refused sex and wasn't about to start unless he found his wife to be putting it forward for his sake over her own. That said, she had always been well able to tell him when she felt tired or unwell and ever the devoted partner, he would comply. Studying her through the pale glow emanating from the kitchen window, he found no such inclination towards offering just because. Rather, surprised, he found her just as eager.
"All you have to do is say the word and I'm good to go, doll. I'm just makin' sure."
"Will you do one thing for me then?" Mildly taken aback, James blinked. She only wanted one thing? He was prepared to offer a lot more than that and the desire for her to know it matched his previous dedication in never leaving her again.
"Baby, I will do anything for you. You just name it. Name it and consider it done-"
"Thank you, darling, I appreciate that. But…" The bite of hesitation prickled at him. This was what he had been afraid of: Putting her own wants and comforts aside to placate him. That had never been their dynamic and Bucky would rather not do it at all than impose upon her. However, nothing could have been further from the reality. "It's only been a day or so for you and… for me, it's been five years, so-"
"Wait… Five years?"
"Yes, love, I thought we'd established this."
"Yeah, but… Five- You're tellin' me there was no one in five years? I mean… If there was, it's okay. You can tell me."
That… That couldn't be right. Elsa was beautiful, she was smart, kind, gentle, hardworking, generous and (not to play too much on the angle but…) well off; both from inheriting the farm, the attached business, as well as the sale of her own assets back in England prior to her move. Why hadn't there been an orderly queue of potential suitors all the way down the driveway once it became known the Lioness was alone?
"There's nothing to tell. I was pining for my husband; as far as I was concerned, I never stopped being a married woman. I had no interest in anyone else."
"Not even Steve?"
"Steve is a discussion for another time. Preferably when I've had a drink." Playing down the fiasco with Steve was, for the time being, Elsa's best option and with his mind elsewhere, James seemed content enough to play along and not ask questions that might kill the mood.
"If you say so. Do we have a… Am I wearin'-?"
"Oh sweetheart," Elsa chimed sweetly, endeared as she nuzzled her nose suggestively to his lower jaw; feeling a stroke of pride as he melted against her. Still got it. "Any condoms we had are looooong since expired. You really need to relax, and I think I know a good way to start."
And that's how, after nearly eighty years, Bucky Barnes found his dog tags.