Chapter 69: Everything Was Red

There was nothing. No temperature, no sounds, no movement. He couldn't feel anything, see anything, smell anything. The only reason he figured he was still alive was that he was still breathing.

His mind was a blank. Who was he? Where was he? Breathe in, breathe out. Was he dead? Alive? Somewhere in between? Breathe in, breathe out. He tried to move his hands; one of them was silent and strong, and the other clicked softly as he clenched the fist. That's right, one of his arms was metal. He'd lost it, falling from a train.

Steve!

Bucky!

Bucky opened his eyes, the bits and pieces of his memories falling into place. He looked around to find himself alone and back in his old apartment; not the one in Romania, no. The one in Brooklyn, in 1943. Had the stones transported him back in time? It didn't seem like the worst explanation. He knew he wasn't in Hell, because he'd lived there already for seventy years and it was nothing like this. But he knew it wasn't Heaven either, because his arm was still metal and his girl wasn't by his side.

Mika. He had to find her, had to see if she was okay. What had she said right before the dusting? I think I'm...miscarrying. The words hit him for a second time like a ton of bricks, burying him until he couldn't breathe or move. His wife had been pregnant, and he hadn't stopped her from risking her life fighting. Hell, he hadn't even noticed. He was knowledgeable enough in biology to keep up, and yet he hadn't even suspected. He'd just figured she was stressed, or her cycle was changing from spending time with other women. He was so insistent in his own sterility that it hadn't even been a thought in his mind.

He needed to get to her immediately. He sat up, waiting for the headrush that usually accompanied the change in position, but it never came. The apartment was exactly how he remembered it, including the pictures on the wall and the record player on the end table. There was even a shirt still laid across the back of a chair, ironed and ready to wear out on a date he didn't make it to after getting drafted. He slowly climbed to his feet, listening for anything, but he didn't hear the uneven limp of Mr. Abernathy the apartment above him, or the crying of Matilda, the baby next door. It was all silent. He took a deep breath, trying to still his growing panic. He went to the window and laid against the wall next to it, looking through the little sliver between the glass and curtains to the street below, eyeing how the entire world seemed to be covered in a vague red glow. There were people down there, looking as lost and confused as he felt. The building across was different - he'd expected to see the laundromat, but now there was a coffee shop. He looked away, and when he glanced back again, the laundromat appeared for a brief moment before melting back into the coffee shop.

He opened the window, silently stepping out onto the fire escape and taking the steps up to the roof. Everyone was going down, looking for camaraderie, trying to figure out what was going on. He didn't care about them, he was only looking for one person.

The view from the roof was much better, the city sprawling out in front of him. He stopped trying to remember his Brooklyn, as every time he did, the landscape shifted. He could hear the murmur of people down below as they all looked for anyone they knew, or cried about those that had been left behind. He had no idea who was or wasn't stuck in this weird red purgatory, except for Mika. She was the only one he cared about, but if he was going to find her, then he was going to have to turn off the impulsive, emotional side of himself that had developed over the past couple years. He had to turn off his heart, and listen to his senses, his brain. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, just like Mika taught him a lifetime ago in that little gym room. He pushed the memory out of his mind, he could revisit it later. Right now he needed to focus.

He began his assessment, his eyes taking inventory of the people down on the street, and the way they visualized this Red New York. The buildings more or less stabilized as people's memories consolidated on a state of wear and tear on them. He could hear fragments of the conversations below if he listened hard enough, and they all seemed to be similar: woke up in my childhood bedroom - haven't been here in years - can't find my sister/husband/child. So the stone had sent them back home, to the first home they knew. So that meant Mika wasn't here, but back in Romania. How would travel in this world work? Would he be able to travel, if he didn't know the roads? Would they disappear if he thought too much about it, or would the collective memories of everyone who knew them be enough to hold them? He looked up at the sky, trying to get a sense of time, but there was no sun, just a blanket of red.

He stiffened as he heard footsteps on the rooftop behind him. They were quiet, too quiet. They were the careful, hesitant steps of an assassin, reading his target and preparing for every possible outcome. They moved slightly to the right, away from the metal arm. That was good, smart. So, this assassin knew him. He turned just slightly, readying himself. There was no sound of a gun, or a knife. Was he - or likely, she, based on the weight in the steps - planning to try and take him out by hand?

He waited until the steps got closer, just the right distance, before springing into action. He turned and lunged, reaching for the neck of whoever was sneaking up on him. But his fingers only met air as the assassin ducked under his grasp, the person moving in a blur to put three feet of distance between them. Huh, weird. Normally an assassin would go for his weak spots.

"Sorry, Mr. Winter Soldier sir! I didn't mean to sneak up on you, I just wasn't sure it was you, cause last time your hair was shorter and-and-and your arm, it was different, right? I remember wondering if it was made of titanium or stainless steel because it was so silver and now it's dark-" It wasn't an assassin at all. It was a kid in a metal suit with a giant spider on the chest.

"Who the fuck are you?" Bucky interrupted him before he could really get going. He recognized the spider suit, though it was different from the one he was wearing back in the airport in Germany. He'd never seen the kid under the mask, but the voice was the exact same.

"Oh, uh," the kid looked really awkward for a second, gesturing to himself before standing up a little taller and taking a minute to decide where to put his hands before putting them on his hips in an amusing attempt at a power pose. "I'm Spiderman."

"Yea, I got that. You got a real person name?" he asked dryly. This kid was annoying back in Germany, and he was annoying now.

"Yea! Uh, yes, sir. Mr. Winter Soldier sir." he said, trying to be professional or grown up or a mix of the two.

"You can just call me Bucky, kid." he said. This kid was throwing a severe wrench in his plan right now.

"Peter. Uh, Peter Parker." the kid said. He seemed surprised, though Bucky didn't see what was so shocking about his name. Didn't they make the kids learn about him and Steve and the Howling Commandos in school nowadays? But then again, when did kids ever pay attention to history lessons? "Where did you get Bucky from?"

"Nickname from my middle name. James Buchanan Barnes." he replied, though the name still felt foreign in his mouth. The kid asked a lot of questions, and he was quickly getting over it.

"Whoa. You have a real name too." he said. Bucky rolled his eyes and turned away from him, striding towards the fire escape again.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. Good luck." he deadpanned. Before he knew it, Peter was on the edge of the building, looking even more nervous than he did before. Bucky tried not to be startled, but somehow the kid seemed to sense it anyways.

"Sorry, um," he paused, searching for his words. "Do you, like, have any idea what's going on here?"

"We lost, kid. That's what happened." he said. He was tired, not in body (though how that was possible after the long, bloody battle he didn't know) but in mind. And he had a lot of work to do. He tried to go down the fire escape again, but Peter cut him off. Again.

"Where are we, Mr. Barnes?" he asked, and this time, Bucky didn't have an answer for him. He looked up at the red sky, which remained unchanged, though at least an hour had passed since he'd awoken. He let out a long sigh.

"I don't know." he admitted. "Best guess is we're stuck in the stone."

"Okay, well," his eyes flitted to Bucky, then away, and Bucky wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at, though it seemed like he was looking at a very complicated equation on a chalkboard. Then suddenly, he looked at him. "We have to find the wizard. Uh, I mean, Dr. Strange."

"I'm not finding a wizard, kid. I've seen that movie, it's just a normal guy behind the curtain." Bucky said, finally pushing past him and going down a floor. But Peter was stubborn, and swung down on some kind of rope, landing in front of him.

"No, I mean, that's just what Mr. Stark called him when we were on the space ship. He has powers, like - I mean, I don't think they're magic, but they're magicish. He said there was one chance for us to win this thing and-"

"And we didn't win." Bucky said. "I don't have time to find a wizard. I need to find my wife." He didn't give Peter time to respond, instead launching himself off the fire escape, landing on the street below. The people around him startled, some of them screaming, all of them stumbling away from him. Undeterred, Peter swung down next to him, jogging to catch up to him.

"Wait a minute, you have a wife?"

...

Mika had seen a lot of weird things over the past couple years, but this took the cake.

She laid on the floor for a long time after waking up, trying to convince herself to get up. Images of her life flashed across her eyes (which were closed), of her time with family, with Bucky. She remembered the battle, the feeling as her body disintegrated. And finally, after she came to terms with the fact that she was most likely dead, she opened her eyes.

She was surprised to find herself in her mother's house. Not the small cottage that she'd taken Bucky to for Christmas, but their childhood home. It still had all her posters on the walls, all the pictures from when they were kids. The bed was unmade, and there was an extra pile of blankets on a bean bag. She sat up, folding her legs underneath her and trying to take inventory of her body. Her hands immediately went to her abdomen and she held it lightly, as if she could feel the five week embryo. But it wouldn't be there if she was dead, right? What were the rules of pregnancy and supernatural stone snaps?

"Mum?" she called out, not knowing if she wanted her to respond or not. She was met with nothing. "Nicoletta?" she called out again, but still only found silence. So, either they'd been spared, or she wasn't alive. "...Raisa? Dad?"

No answer there either. Okay, so she wasn't dead. Maybe. Probably. She slowly climbed to her feet, expecting to feel some sort of soreness or lightheadedness after fighting aliens for so long but finding that she felt surprisingly fine. She looked down at herself, taking in the armor that Shuri had made her. Perhaps she should change? She tapped the bracelet, and was somewhat surprised when the nanites returned to their home. She suddenly felt very exposed, naked in her childhood bedroom, and breathed a sigh of relief to open her drawers and find her clothes the way she'd left them when she was going to university. She pulled on some jeans and a bra, but didn't care for any of the tight t-shirts that were in her drawers. She paused, considering her options before going down the hallway to her parents' bedroom. She opened the closet to find her dad's clothes, still hanging there, just as they were for years after his death. She pulled out his favorite flannel shirt, holding it to her face and smelling it. Somehow, it still smelled like him, though she had the distinct impression that it was all just a fancy facade. Now dressed, she went to explore.

The house was exactly the way she remembered it, which was eerie and uncomfortable. Though she was completely alone, she felt the ghosts of her family all around her. There was the dent in the wall, where Raisa had fallen down the stairs when Mika was chasing after her for a stolen shirt. There were the faded remnants of crayon on the wall, not completely scrubbed off after Nicoletta had decided to make it her first canvas. There was even an empty coffee mug on the counter as if she'd finished it and didn't quite make it to the sink.

If she was here, then where did that mean Bucky was? All the way back in New York? But would the stone send him there, when his first home after being held by Hydra was in Romania? She had to see, had to find out. She had to get back to their apartments in Bucharest. It was about one hundred and twenty kilometers from Piteşti to Bucharest. If she was able to walk about five kilometers an hour for eight hours of the day, then it would take her three days to get home. Maybe two and a half, if she could walk a little extra longer. She checked the cupboards, but there was no food there, and the sink didn't run whenever she turned the faucet. She wasn't hungry at the moment, but she wasn't sure if that would change with time. Speaking of, what time was it?

The clock on the mantle wasn't moving, and the digital ones just blinked for noon, as if the power had been lost. She looked around, but couldn't find anything that she could really take with her. Except, of course, the baseball bat leaning next to the front door. That may come in handy. She took a deep breath, suddenly scared of what she was going to find when she walked outside. But she had to be brave, had to leave so that she could find Bucky. She took another breath, and before she could think too hard about it, opened the door and left the house.

She was shocked by how incredibly red everything was. There was nothing in the sky - no sun, no moon, no stars or clouds. It was just red. There were other people out on the streets, looking up at the same red sky and trying to figure out what was going on. She suddenly realized that for once, she was the most knowledgeable one in the room. None of these people knew about the infinity stones, or Thanos, or the snap. And even if her information was the bare minimum, she at least had an inkling. She wondered if she should stop and talk to them, all these people from her neighborhood that she hadn't spoken to in years, to try and tell them what was going on. But there were so many people, and they looked so lost and confused, and she was suddenly so overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation that she could do nothing but put her head down and start walking.

She was somewhat surprised that her feet made noise on the concrete, but the steady sound of her steps helped to ground her, the rhythm and the thought of Bucky giving her enough motivation to keep going. She suddenly felt very small, and very alone, stuck in this strange world where everything was a mystery. She didn't realize until now how used she'd gotten to Bucky being there all the time, his strong, quiet presence a cocoon of protection around her. But now she was on her own, like she was before she met him. She gripped the bat a little tighter, feeling her muscles move and remembering all the things he'd taught her. Maybe he wasn't here physically, but he was still protecting her, because she knew now that she could handle herself if she had to.

Suddenly, the percussion of her footsteps was joined by others. They were heavier, and slower, and a respectful distance away. Before she met Bucky, she probably wouldn't have even noticed. But now, his vague paranoia had rubbed off on her, and she couldn't help but keep an ear turned to them. Maybe these someone elses had the same idea she did, just a group of people trying to make their way back home, back to somebody. Then she heard the whispers, the murmurs, and a low, low laugh, and she realized that she was probably going to have to use her newfound skill set sooner than she thought.

She stopped suddenly, but the footsteps behind her did not, and soon she was passed by two men she didn't know. For just a moment, she thought that she was just being silly, that they were just going to keep walking and not pay her any mind. But they slowed, and turned, and stopped, giving her smiles that instantly made her skin crawl.

"Hey there. Are you lost?" the first man asked. His facial hair was thick and untamed, giving him a slightly disheveled look that made him slightly more menacing. His friend was clean shaven, but it did nothing to help the predatory smile he gave her.

"I'm fine, thank you." she said curtly, choking up on the bat a bit. Their eyes glanced down at it before returning to her, and she wondered if they could sense the threat from her. Based on their postures, they didn't.

"It's not safe, being in this new world alone." the second man said.

"I'm not alone." she said quickly, even though it was fairly obvious that she was. "I'm going to meet my husband right now." she added, as if that would deter them. The bearded man's grin widened.

"What if he's not here?" he asked.

"I know he is." she replied. "But thank you, so much, for your concern." She walked around them, determined not to touch them. But as she strode by, one of them (she didn't care which one) grabbed her wrist. She easily turned and pulled, strong enough to escape his grasp, and pushed his chest with the end of the bat.

"Whoa there." he said, holding up his hands. It was the clean shaven one. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

"I said I was fine." she retorted, still keeping the bat up between them. Could they tell she was shaking? She tried to seem tougher than she once, for once glad for the height her father's genes had given her. They eyed her, sizing her up, and she could see how they were calculating exactly how much trouble she would be, and how much she was worth. And after the longest minute of her life (red or otherwise), their smiles dropped, and they turned away without another word, going back towards the town. Her breath left her in a rush, her head spinning as she came down from the adrenaline high. She could do this. She could handle this. She wondered if she should do something, anything, to stop them. But then she didn't know what she could do, and what would happen if she hurt someone in this world. Reluctantly, she turned to continue her trek, and almost ran face first into the very last person she wanted to see.

"Hey there, love. Miss me?" Dominic asked, his trademark smirk plastered across his face.

Fuck.

...

The silence was deafening around Steve.

He'd gone back to the palace, figured out the missing, and the dead. Rhodey had tried to contact Fury with no response, and had left to see what was going on back in New York. Steve elected to follow up with them later, saying he had some business to attend to first. He went back to Mika and Bucky's house, the windows dark and half of it caved in. He stepped into the wreckage, wondering how things could have gone so wrong that they ended up like this.

Anger suddenly bubbled up in him, and he picked up the nearest thing and threw it across the room, not feeling any better when it shattered into the wall. Something skittered across the back hallway, and he was immediately on alert, hoping that there was one last alien for him to slam his fist into. He quietly stepped into the back bedroom, ignoring the signs everywhere that said Mika and Bucky lived there. He checked the closet and the bathroom and found them empty; there was no way out except for the way he came in. The last spot was under the bed.

Steve took one step towards it, then another, angling his body to prepare for attack. Then, with one hand, he swiftly flipped the bed against the opposite wall, the mattress breaking the windows as it slammed into it. There wasn't an alien hiding under the bed, but instead a scared Luna, who whimpered and froze in her spot, her fear paralyzing her. Steve stopped, relaxing his hands and dropping to one knee.

"Hey there, sweet girl." he said as softly as he could, though his voice still felt too loud in the silence. She looked at him hesitantly before her tail started wagging, and she slowly uncurled and crawled over to him. He put his hand on her head and let her tuck herself next to him, her body shaking as she took in his friendly presence. "I know, that was scary. But we're going to figure it out, okay? I got you."

The dog seemed to understand him, getting as close as she could to him, as if she knew that Mika and Bucky were gone and that he was all she had left. He stayed there, petting her, until both of them were calmed down and ready to get up and continue on to their next step. She followed him all the way back to the palace, back to the hangar where a plane waited for him. His hands hovered over the coordinates, eventually selecting the ones for a little cottage outside Berlin instead of the Avengers complex in New York.

He was glad for Luna's company as they flew to Germany, and also as he walked up the driveway to Nicoletta's home. The light was on inside and he saw her shadow pass across the windows. It was too late for her to be up, but he wasn't surprised. He realized too late that he should have called, should have given her warning, but there was no way he could have withheld the news that he needed to deliver in person. He hesitated, garnering his courage before softly knocking on the door. He heard her footsteps as she ran to it, throwing it open with a look of hope on her face. He saw her eyes flitting, looking for anyone to be with him. Luna happily greeter her, and she absently reached a hand out to her, though her eyes didn't leave Steve's.

"Mika?" she asked quietly. He opened his mouth, but his voice caught in his throat. Instead, all he could do was shake his head. Tears filled her eyes, and her lower lip trembled as she asked, "Bucky?" His throat ached as he shook his head again. "Sam?" Another shake. She broke then, her hand going over her mouth as the tears fell. He moved to her, holding her small, shaking body against his as she cried. He knew he was dirty, and bloody, and must smell horrendous, but Nicoletta clutched his uniform like he was a life raft, and he held her to his chest as if he might crumble without her. And while he couldn't cry like she was, a few tears did trail down his cheeks and into her hair. They stood there on the porch, holding each other and letting out the feelings they couldn't vocalize, until her sobs slowed and his bones ached and they settled into the sadness that hovered like a fog around them both.

He limped into her house like a zombie and she followed, and they silently agreed that tomorrow they would try and do something about this. But tonight, they were just going to check out, and miss the people that they loved.

Aaaaaah they're stuck in the stone! And our poor babies are separated! I'm super excited for this arc so I hope y'all are too. And side note, who knew writing Peter Parker was so much fun?

Thank you all SO much for your love on the last chapter! I'm sorry it was so heartwrenching...ok I'm really not but now you know things are gonna be ok! I love hearing all your thoughts and feelings and outrage.

Please let me know what y'all thought of this one!

-XM