James Buchanan Barnes was born with an odd sense of knowing.
Everyone in the world was capable of bonding with someone, but most people were normal: they went out dating, or had a one night stand, and found an alpha or omega they wanted to bond with. But James, or Bucky as most everyone in their neighbourhood called him, knew that there was someone out there specifically for him. As he grew older and began to make sense of the feeling that seemed to be anchored in his chest, he could even tell roughly where they were. They seemed to spend a lot of time in Manhattan, of all places, although occasionally he'd feel it stretch and thin as the person travelled somewhere else. Occasionally – and he hated those times; they scared him – the bond even stretched enough to all but disappear.
Most people thought he was just playing. He'd overheard one teacher tell his ma that he had "an incredibly overactive imagination". Some of the older kids at school said he was "jus' lookin' fer attention" and tended to try and beat him up for it.
Even Stevie – his best friend since . . . forever – tended to develop a little wrinkle right between his eyebrows, even as he was saying, "Ignore 'em, Buck, if you feel it, then you feel it!"
By the time Bucky was eighteen, he'd stopped mentioning it to almost everyone but Stevie, and by the time he was twenty one, he didn't mention it at all. But by that point, the feeling had grown so close and so strong that Bucky half expected to look up and meet a pair of eyes watching him every time he went out.
He was twenty five when it finally happened.
He didn't know what caused him to look up. He'd been helping Steve out of yet another alley – seriously, the punk beta just never knew when to let things lie – when the skin on the back of his neck prickled, and he raised his head to meet a steady gaze from across the street.
It felt, he absently mused, a little like being doused with ice water, and then struck by lightning.
The gaze belonged to a female omega. She looked to be only a few years older than him, and yet, at the same time, she looked as though she'd been around for centuries. Bucky had no idea what gave him that impression; something around her eyes, he thought. She was dressed in some kind of robes that were a bright, vibrant yellow.
"Buck?"
Bucky jolted; he'd forgotten Steve was even there.
"Ah, sorry. I was... I was just—" He couldn't say it, couldn't say "I was finally finding my omega." Right before I'm due to ship out.
Steve seemed to sense something of this anyway, as he frowned and scanned the street in front of them. But, just like everybody else seemed to be passing the woman by without seeing her, Steve said nothing of what was a strange sight, even for New York.
"C'mon," Steve prodded him. "No good standing round here all night."
Bucky snorted involuntarily. "Don't know what you're talking about," he said. "You damn near live in these alleys, the amount of fights you try an' pick in 'em." He turned his head to grin at his friend's indignant spluttering.
When he turned back, the female omega had gone.
Stepping out of the Stark Expo's grounds later that night, Bucky shook his head in resignation. He had no idea why Steve was so gung-ho about going off to fight in this damn war. Anyone'd think Steve was an alpha, the way he carried on. Hell, Steve acted like he thought he was an alpha. He couldn't just settle for helping the war effort at home.
It was bitterly ironic that Bucky was the one drafted when he didn't even want to go. He would have been perfectly happy to stay at home and work in the factories.
Something – the same tingle on the back of his neck as earlier – caused him to pause and look carefully around himself.
"I know you're there," he said out loud.
"As you should do," came an amused voice from the shadows just to his left. The same female omega from before stepped out of them, and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat, just like every cliched romance novel that his Ma read. Her looks might not be conventional – the robes, for starters, and then there was the fact that she'd shaved her hair off – but to him, she was beautiful.
She smiled at him but held up a hand when he took a step towards her. "Not right now," she said. "It's been a very long time, and the reaction might be rather . . . intense. Better to be somewhere safe."
Bucky opened his mouth to ask questions but was brought up short when his omega did something with her hands and a glowing circle abruptly opened up in front of them. It showed, very clearly, the interior of some building somewhere. Somewhere that was quite obviously not where they were currently standing.
"What the...?" he breathed.
His omega's smile widened, and she gestured towards the circle with one hand. "Don't worry, it's perfectly safe," she assured him. "After you."
Obediently, Bucky cautiously stepped through it. He ended up in a large room, decorated in lots of dark wooden panels and stone. He turned slowly to take in the surprisingly cosy-looking room as the omega came through the circle behind him. "Where are we?" he asked.
"Kamar-Taj, in the Himalayas," she replied, and flicked her wrist at the circle, which promptly collapsed in on itself until it disappeared. "Headquarters for the Masters of the Mystic Arts, of whom I am the Sorcerer Supreme." She gestured at a table that was set low to the ground, with pillows circling it in place of chairs. "Please, sit. Tea?"
"Nah, I'm good. Thanks." He picked a cushion and lowered himself to sit on it.
"Very well." She chose a cushion across the table from him and sat down a lot more gracefully than Bucky had. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? You're already aware that we are paired."
Bucky nodded, even though it had been a statement rather than a question. "Yeah. I've been able to sense you all my life," he told her.
Her smile this time was rather sad. "Unsurprising," she said. "We've been bonded before. A very long time ago. Unfortunately, to remain as the Sorcerer Supreme, I have had to do some . . . things that the rest of the Masters would frown upon if they knew. It rather goes against all that we stand for."
"How long is 'very long'?" Bucky asked. "And . . . what do I call you?"
"My title here is the Ancient One," she said. "Which may in part answer your first question."
Bucky gave a low whistle of surprise. By 'Ancient', he suspected she didn't just mean a few years over a hundred. Still... "Ancient ain't a name," he pointed out.
Her expression didn't change but Bucky still sensed her surprise. He wondered just how long it had been since anyone had used her actual name, rather than one of her titles.
"My name was – is – Aine," she said, finally. "You may use it if you want to." Her expression went sad again. "Although we don't have much time."
He frowned at her. "I know I'm shippin' out in the mornin'," he said. "But that don't mean that I won't try my damnedest to make sure I come back home."
"Oh, James," she sighed. "I am – so sorry. I've always waited so long for you, and now our roles are going to reverse."
"What?" A cold feeling crept down his spine. "What do you mean?"
"I can't tell you; it wouldn't change anything." She reached out across the table as though she was going to take his hand, but then remembered her own admonition ("The reaction might be rather . . . intense.") and sat back again. "Tonight is all we will have this time. Will you be able to handle that knowledge, James? If not, then you may leave right now, and we will try again in the next lifetime."
"Jesus." Bucky gaped at her a bit. "I was just hopin' to get laid, and here you're trying to palm off big questions like that on me," he complained, not entirely falsely.
Aine laughed at that, and Bucky felt something inside of him settle, pleased that he'd managed to amuse his bonded. "Life is full of such choices," she said. Then she sobered. "Are you ready to make yours now, or shall I give you some time?"
Bucky took a minute to really think about it. It didn't sound as though they were going to get a happy ever after – at least, not any time soon – but on the other hand, he'd been able to feel Aine all his life, even when she hadn't been there, and he'd been too young to put into words what it was he was feeling. He hadn't known it was her specifically, but he'd known someone was out there waiting for him.
Additionally, if things were going to go that badly, then she'd had the option of just . . . not telling him. Of just leaving him alone through whatever it was she'd seen coming.
Of letting him go through life alone.
When he thought about it, it didn't really need thinking about at all.
Before he could second-guess himself – and before Aine realised what he'd decided to do – Bucky reached across the table and laid his hand over hers.
Ugh, what happened?
Amusement. I warned you the reaction might be intense.
Huh?
Bucky blinked several times, trying to clear the white fog from his vision, and realised that his eyes weren't even open. He tried to remember what he'd been doing, and abruptly remembered reaching across a table to touch . . . his bonded!
Aine!
Yes. The answer came back to him calmly. It also came to him soundlessly, which was very odd. It gave Bucky the feeling that he wanted to dig a finger into his ear and wiggle it. You'll get used to it, Aine told him, still sounding amused. We're immersed in the bond at the moment. Once it settles, it won't feel so strange to speak through it.
Immersed in. Bucky considered the phrasing for a moment. That made it sound as though they weren't even in their bodies right now.
The amusement deepened. Do you really want a lesson on the mystic arts and how it relates to our bonding? Now?
Well, when she put it that way...
Although, on the other hand, how was he supposed to actually complete the bond with her if he couldn't see her?
Like this. Abruptly, Bucky could sense her around him, in him.
What...? He shivered. It felt like she'd rubbed raw wires against his brain, and all of his muscles were suddenly jumping and sparking. He was fairly certain this classified as the strangest sensation he'd ever felt. He felt her huff out a breath over what would have been his ear if they'd been . . . awake, or aware, or whatever she wanted to call it. You feel like that, too? he asked, sounding a great deal more breathless than he'd like.
Oh, yes. For the first time since they'd met, Aine's voice didn't sound completely steady. Bucky felt a burst of satisfaction over that.
It also made him wonder just how far from steady he could make her. It would be a lot easier, he thought, if he could see her, as then he'd be able to run a hand up her side to the neck of those robe things she was wearing. To grope his way through the fabric until he reached her skin.
Apparently, though, the thought was enough, as the feeling of Aine around him rippled as she gasped in surprise. Bucky shivered again, catching the backlash of the sensation.
Whoa... he breathed in amazement. Then his mouth twisted into a smirk that, if anyone had been able to see it, might have been called evil. He thought – very hard – about one hand curling around the back of Aine's neck, fingers brushing over where his bond bite would go, and the other hand heading for more...southerly regions.
Aine gasped again, in a higher pitch, and her form shimmered, triggering more of the raw wire feeling in Bucky's own brain. You learn quickly, she managed to say.
Always have, he agreed, and thought about leaning in to run his tongue over that special place on the back of her neck. Aine shivered yet again then retaliated by apparently imagining her hands roaming over Bucky. She was very thorough.
He gave her a warning nip and when she didn't object, he imagined himself biting down, right into the sweet spot.
And the world exploded.
If he'd thought it was intense before, that was nothing to the bond between them actually snapping into place. Well, 'snapping' was probably too tame a phrase; it burst into being, flooding over them both like a tidal wave. Bucky thought he made some kind of noise but was too busy burning and dying and drowning and being electrocuted and sensing absolutely everything to care or even notice.
James. My alpha! Aine cried out, and Bucky made a muffled agreement into her neck.
At least, he thought he did. It was really getting incredibly hard to focus on anything outside of the sense of omega. Aine's essence rippled again and then she did something, causing the sensations to – impossibly – amp themselves up higher and tighter. And then, abruptly, everything just . . .
Stopped.
He hadn't had many hangovers in his relatively short life – with most of his paycheque going to support his Ma and four sisters, there wasn't enough left over for him to regularly get drunk, and considering Steve couldn't drink at all, then it never felt fair to do so without him – but Bucky was sure he had one now. His head was pounding, and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet.
An unfamiliar clatter sounded from somewhere relatively close by, making Bucky jump – which, by the way… ow! – but also reminding him that he'd been somewhere else, with someone else.
Aine!
James. We're alright, her calm voice said. It took him a moment to realise that he was still not hearing her voice through his ears . . . and that, this time, he really should be. He forced his eyes open and blinked up at the ceiling. From the look of it, they were still in Kamar-Taj, lying on the floor beside the low table they'd been sitting at.
"Is everything okay?" he heard someone ask. Rolling his head to the side, he spotted a young woman standing in the doorway.
"Everything's fine," said Aine, calmly, rising almost effortlessly from her own position on the floor. Bucky was quite gratified to see that her legs weren't quite steady; she had to take a quick step sideways and brace a hand against the wall. "We don't require any assistance, thank you."
"Speak for yourself," Bucky murmured. He began the laborious process of hauling himself upright. His legs felt even shakier than Aine's looked, and he got no further than his knees, using the table to prop himself up that far. "This is your fault," he complained, giving Aine a mock-glare.
She gave him a brief smile. "You were the one who chose to go ahead," she pointed out. "I warned you it could be intense." Her smile died. "And I'm afraid it's morning."
"What?" Bucky spun round, looking for a window or something that would allow him to see outside. "No, it can't be!" he protested, turning back to look at his omega. "We . . . we hadn't even gotten to the bed yet!"
"That will have to wait, I'm afraid," she sighed. "And for what could be quite a long time. But for now—" She stepped forward, steady again, and held out a hand to help him up. "—give me one last kiss, alpha, and then you must go."
Bucky very nearly said to hell with it, but luckily his common sense overrode his brain. Instead he lifted his hands to Aine's face, cradling it as he pressed his mouth to hers.
The kiss lasted an eternity, was hot and sweet, brought their essences together into one unit where it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began, and, unfortunately, finished much, much too soon.
"This ain't goodbye," said Bucky, as Aine drew back and gestured with her hands to open the same sparkling circle he'd seen the previous night.
Aine met his gaze, her mouth twisted into a half smile. "No," she agreed. "It isn't." She glanced through the circle. "It's almost time," she informed him. "Your train's about to leave."
Bucky suddenly cursed. "My bag—" he began, but Aine shook her head to interrupt him.
"Ready and waiting for you," she said.
The sound of a train's horn floated in through the circle, and Bucky reluctantly stepped through it onto the station platform. He glanced back over his shoulder. Aine was watching him, her eyes sad but resigned.
I'll come back to you, he swore. Promise, Aine. Whatever happens, I'll come back to you.
You will. Eventually, she said, and with an abrupt gesture, the circle shrank and died away, leaving Bucky alone with his duffel on the platform.
Picking it up, Bucky grimly began striding towards his train. At least, he consoled himself once the train gave a piercing whistle and began to move, they were fully bonded now. He would only have to touch it to sense Aine. He would remember.
A century and a half later, the long-dormant bond sparked into life, as a baby omega came into the world with a strange sense of knowing.
Well, hello, there, James Buchanan Barnes thought with a mental smile. I've been waiting for you.