Decided to spare y'all the cliffhanger. Throw your thoughts at me, the constructive ones. Please don't use my reviews to whine about how you wanted this story to go. I love you all and value your opinions, so please do the same. This is mainly directed at one particularly negative comment, the rest of you are gems who I think of as my own. Much love!
Once you become something more than human, the transition back is something like shoving worms into the can from which they've been unleashed. As it was, I felt rather like a squished worm, no bones, slightly suffocated, and definitely in need of a long scalding shower.
Sally was seated at my side, offering an attempt at a scolding look down at me. At her side was a snoring Scott stretched out in a sleeping bag. "That was foolish," she said.
"I'm not dead?"
"Rather human, though, anything but boring. Samuel flew me in, rather excitingly I might add, and I do mean flew. I used what I knew of Menzel's research to slow down the serum removal process. Or the cure, as she calls it. That allowed your body to begin functioning on its own terms, without the aid of extraterrestrial blood."
"Your heart stopped twice," Sam deadpanned from his position holding up the wall. His meaty arms were crossed and he looked down his nose at me irritably. Probably more at the fact that he had to fly out here to save my ass instead of at my actual deeds.
"But I restarted the fickle thing and everything appears to be in order," Sally assured. "Now," she straightened from her chair. "I'm going to go sort through your files and do a bit of fun reading since everything is back to normal. I thank you for you willingness to test the serum. I know it is a bit of a nasty thing."
She strode from the room and Sam shifted instantly to occupy the vacant spot. He scooted the chair until his knees were in line with my face. He didn't speak at first, just glared at me with a gaze that would wither an entire acre of crops.
Finally, he knocked his knuckles lightly against my shoulder and let an exasperated smile take over his face. "You ever gonna stop pulling moronic stunts on me? Tornados in Wakanda? Running away from Clint? Giving yourself up to Hugh? Stabbing yourself for that maniac?"
"Red Wing appreciates me keeping things interesting," I replied.
Sam snapped his fingers, pointing them at me accusingly. "Hey, woah. Don't bring the little man into this. He knows better than to fall prey to your antics."
I grinned up at my friend and he rolled his eyes. "Get some rest. Get better," he instructed, seeing himself out.
I tossed my pillow at Scott, watching him jerk to life. "No, no doc. The history of antibiotics is fascinating. Continue. Will there be a test after this?"
"Bonus points for keeping your word," I said.
His gaze flew to me, dancing with relief. He was on top of me, hugging and kissing my hair and face, and making embarrassing conversation with himself. "I knew it. I knew you'd be alright."
"No you didn't. You were crying you big softie."
"Well you tried to die. Again."
"Rather tiring business."
"Of course. Of course. Want me to get you water?"
"Yeah," I breathed to get some space for a few minutes.
He left and the healing drugs in my system floated me back onto the dream river for a few hours. The moon had risen when I woke and the hut was filled with far more voices than it seemed capable of containing. The clay walls on either side of me perspired in the steaming night. My blankets somehow had become tangled over the unlit kerosene lamp in the corner. Star light petered in through the cutout of a window, illuminating the undecorated room.
A throat cleared, drawing my attention to the source of my wakeful state. When I looked up to see who stood in the doorway, the ache in my gut shifted to wrap around my heart. Bucky hesitated on the threshold, his face hidden behind the veil of dark hair hanging over the cast down expression. He glanced through thick fringes of eyelashes to look at me, to cut straight through me with the ice picks of his eyes.
I shifted on the cot, dragging my feet to fold beneath me and offering him space at the foot of the bed. Bucky walked over soundlessly, his booted feet sliding over the dirt floor until he planted his ass across from me. The metal of my makeshift hospital bed squeaked under the addition of his weight and I reached out to touch his arm and he just stared at the gesture, hurt lacing the air between us like a poison.
"I didn't want to die," I said quickly.
"You valued the mission over your own life." Bucky spoke with such an even voice guilt lacerated my lungs.
A shaky breath flew through my gritted teeth before I dipped a nod. "Tell me you haven't done that before."
A tight smile, cracking the little fissures of his chapped lips. His metal hand reached up to cover mind where it rested on his denim covered knee. "I'm not mad at you for that. I'm not mad at all, actually. I just…I don't think I'm ready to have anyone else close to my heart yet. I fuck it up enough on my own and I really don't need help there. And I don't think you're ready either, or you need someone a hell of a lot more stable than me."
Oh there was the knife, and he was twisting it, but blood didn't pour from this wound, just tears. I sniffled pathetically, smiling through a sharp shake of my head. "Are we breaking up?" I asked.
"Maybe not forever. Maybe we just need to focus on the mission for now. You had the right idea with that. And whatever happens after it's over…"
"We can figure that out then," I agreed.
Bucky leaned forward, pressing his lips roughly against my forehead, fingers curling beneath my chin. He pulled away only fractionally, breath fanning over my fevered skin in quick bursts. "Hold on to this for me, will you?" he pressed his half of the locket into my palm and I nodded pathetically, fresh tears brimming.
With only the ghost of his touch lingering, Bucky strode from the room.
I crawled to the edge of my cot, grappling for my jacket hanging on the back of the chair Sally occupied when I woke. When I pulled it onto my lap, I dug out my locket half from the pocket and positioned them both side by side. The clasp was broken and I doubted I had the means to fix it in this secluded hut in the middle of the rainforest. So, I merely slid his piece onto the chain mine occupied and nestled them together. Then, I latched it about my neck and tucked it beneath the thin white tank top I wore, so Bucky could rest right beside my heart.
A half hour passed before my door opened again. This time, Wanda entered, her arms crossed over her chest, and her long hair piled into a bun away from her sweat glistening skin. "We're discussing how to proceed," she said.
"Since when do you guys bother including me in things like that?" I demanded.
"Since you put the world's safety above your own. Since you sacrificed your own mental well-being to stay with Menzel and that creature to make sure she produced the cure. So we could stand a chance of taking him down. I know we've doubted you before, a lot, but you've proved yourself."
Wanda tapped my wrist. I looked up at her with wide eyes. They thought I sided with them. They thought it was a selfless sacrifice for me to help Joy and Hugh. But they were like me. And now one of them was dead and we had to end the other.
The Avengers played at being my family, and while their intentions were good, they weren't home. Not even Costa Rica was home anymore. My birth family lay under six feet of earth and my makeshift parents, who only ever strove to protect me, were soon to join them.
"Need help?" Wanda asked when I reached for the cane positioned beside my bed.
Ever move was painfully human. Each shift a reminder that the air around me was now as foreign as my own body. I was a stranger in this skin. My thigh was wrapped tightly where the needle as thick as my thumb plunged in. It throbbed when I put the slightest weight on it, so I relented and made use of the bamboo cane.
Wanda led the way into the compact living area. The two chairs were unoccupied, Earth's mightiest heroes contenting themselves to stand about bickering over the proceedings. My escort made sure I claimed the comfier of the two chairs before migrating to a man whose skin was as red as her magic.
T'challa commanded the room, his powerful stance intimidating even from the opposite side. Steve stood at his side, thumbs hooked in his utility belt, nodding along as the King spoke. Every damn Avenger that there was, or ever had been was crammed into this room, except Bruce who was an unstable isotope we didn't need anywhere near the nuclear reactor that already was Hugh. And that god, who we couldn't really summon at will.
Tony was stiff, closest to me, farthest from Bucky, his eyes fixed purposefully on the ceiling. Differences aside, Civil War pinned carefully out of mind, they were back together to take down a threat too much for any one alone.
And I was a human who needed a cane to walk.
"I'm all for stealth, your grace," Natasha spoke up. "But perhaps, a distraction is needed as well. We could send in those better equipped to take the brunt of his force, while a smaller team strikes from behind."
"Or I could go alone," Vision offered.
"No offense, buddy, but you fly to get shit done. Know how you do that? Air," Clint input.
"But I do not require oxygen," Vision argued.
"We could wear face masks," Clint offered.
"How fast do you think he'll rip those off?"
The fighting picked up to earsplitting levels and at one point, I swear I saw Clint reach up and just shut off his hearing aids completely. When Rhodey had to insert himself between an aggressive Sam and a kid bouncing on his toes, Spider Boy I think.
Scott sighed and wove his way through the mayhem to claim the stiff chair beside mine. He leaned over, hands folded on his lap. "He has no physical weaknesses," he said.
"Joy was his weak spot, but she's dead," I replied.
Scott was staring at me pointedly. I closed my eyes, taking a moment to accept his unspoken point. I seized my cane, pushing myself to my feet. No one noticed. I looked to Scott for help and he cracked his knuckles before cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Hey, is that Hugh?" he called, pointing dramatically out the window left ajar to allow a steady stream of air laden with moisture into the room.
The room silenced like a concussion, a dozen sets of eyes focused on the single door that could provide entry.
"This is your moment." Scott nudged me. "False alarm. But keep quiet, will you?" he called to the crew.
I cleared my throat, and their gazed fixed on me. The only one I wanted to meet, however, was fixed on the locket that had fallen on top of my shirt instead of hiding beneath it. Twin ice sheets glanced up, melting me all over again making me want to throw this damn locket at Bucky's face and forget everything else.
Instead, I said, "He thinks I'm his daughter, Mercy. He won't hurt me. You can use me as bait or a hostage or something."
"Like he didn't hurt his own wife?" Steve clipped.
"She died from touching him. So I won't do that. We can put the cure in tranquilizers or something. Barton can shoot. I know Bucky is a good sniper. We lure him out, keep his powers quiet long enough to fire off a good shot that puts him down."
"And if he kills you instead?" Tony demanded.
"Give me another needle so I can take him down with me, I guess."
I didn't break my gaze from Bucky's to say that. And I watched as the wary expression morphed into one of pure fury. The room hummed in agreement, now fiddling with details and resigned acceptance to the storm that was barreling down on us faster than a meteor.
Bucky migrated to Sally, talking to her for a brief moment and taking something from her cardigan pocket. Scott patted my knee, ducking away before Bucky's rampage could draw him to a halt in front of me.
"Maybe you do want to die," he hissed.
"It's our only plan. And you gave up your piece of the locket, so you get no say," I snapped.
"Fine, just tell me this isn't a suicide jump and I'll stop fighting you."
I opened my mouth, finding it dry. A thick swallow forced me on. "I'm just trying to be logical. I fought off the serum once, so I think I can handle one of its occupants."
Bucky's hands fisted into his loose hair, pulling down while he fought to keep from shouting in the calmed atmosphere. "You don't have to live for me. In fact, don't. Just live. Okay? You were given a second chance. Use it. Don't give up on the home stretch. Can you promise me that if it comes down to it, you won't do something stupid and reckless?"
"No. Could you forgive me for dying?"
"Only if you forgive me," he sighed tiredly, dejectedly, his entire face dragged down by a weight any normal man would be crushed beneath.
"For what?" I asked, feeling a pinprick in my side.
He was sedating me. I swayed and Bucky placed steadying hands on my biceps, easing me back down into my seat. "I'm sorry." He muttered, touching my face tenderly before the darkness blotted him and everything else out.