#i also desperately want him in a team where i can support him full heartedly

[scuderia-hamilton]

a crazy thought just popped into my head, so hear me out... Oscar Piastri to Aston Martin in 2027. put him in that Newey designed rocket ship and guaranteed he will bring home that world championship.

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 10

Maul x Sith Reader 

Word Count: 2.6k

WARNINGS: Pining, death canon and non-canon, blood

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       Maul had given into your desires as he stayed behind on Zanbar while you boarded one of the Death Watch ships with Savage and Vizsla. You scoffed at the loosely hanging Pyke robes attempting to pin them back so the extra fabric wouldn't get in your way. Savage was muttering specifics with Bo closer the rear of the ship while Vizsla eyed you.

"Allow me." He sauntered over to you and expertly gathered some of the fabric behind your back, fastening it with a safety pin.

"A warrior, leader and seamster I presume." Slightly annoyed how your flesh reacted to touch. Only your master had touched you outside of combat for the first time in years. You weren't attracted to this human. Your body simply reacted because of biology, or something, you reasoned.

"I'm sure you'll come to find I'm a man of many talents." He hummed with a smirk on his face.

    He dug the mask out of your pack and held it in his hands, looking deeply into the eye holes with a stoic look on his face.

"I need to ask a favor of you." His tone was firm but some kind of anxiety lay behind it. You narrowed your eyes at him expecting bile to spring from his lips.

"What?"

"I know you are powerful, a gifted fighter and I'm assuming strong with the ways of the Sith." You had no clue where he was going with this so when he paused you waited, searching his eyes for something his words didn't tell you.

"What I don't know is what stake you have in this... conflict."

"What is the favor you're dodging around Mandalorian?"

"These aren't your people. This isn't your planet. Although your current role in this siege is to make a fuss for us to stop, I ask that the chaos you spur on sticks to the script. These are my people; this is my home. I know civilians will die and I know buildings will burn but please... please don't destroy everything. I may not be a force user but I can sense that, you could."

    You sighed. Why does he have to care? In a way he reminded you of the Nightbrother you loved. Commanding, fierce, taking what he wants. But encased with a hard exterior that cracked, leaking a gentle and soft core. You shook your head. Why must men be these complicated yet predictable creatures. You'd much rather go back to viewing everyone in the same light as the slaver except for Savage and Maul. It was so much easier that way, but you couldn't.

"I assure you. No one who doesn't need to die to get the point across will fall by my blades."

    He actually looked relieved. Much too trusting this bald and scarred man was. You weren't lying but how could he tell?

"Thank you."

    He handed you the mask, just hardly brushing his fingers against yours. Your skin still tingled when he pulled away and walked to the cockpit. You were thanking the stars that your Master had stayed on Zanbar. Simply biology. You continued to sooth yourself. Maul may not have sensed it but Savage not far from you definetly did.

    He would never say anything about it however. He understood the wanting of the heart and the body often intertwined but were also separate. He held no romantic love for you but sometimes when you sparred something would stir in his belly that had nothing to do with his heat cycle. It's probably a touch starvation symptom. He knew this but also knew that Maul wouldn't be so understanding if he ever found out so he wouldn't say a word.

       You had stowed away with a few Pykes in a cargo container currently being lowered onto the shipping docks. The four of you smiled and chuckled with an excited anticipation. You had given your sabers to Savage remembering the discussion that took place in the makeshift strategy tent on the moon once everyone had left but the three of you.

"We need Vizsla to be the face of our rule so the Jedi are none the wiser until I'm ready for them to come." Maul seethed in that velvety growl that never failed to make you tremble.

"One Sith causing trouble, especially if he leaves no survivors won't give us away but two or three? They'd come in full force and we aren't ready for that just yet."

The grip on your newly acquired viroblades tightened. Of course, he was right. Your master was always right. A slight wave of guilt for doubting his reasoning in the first place tugged at your heart.

    You had almost lost yourself in your thoughts when the cargo entrance opened, revealing several Mandalorian guards. Every cargo container down the line burst open with Pykes pouring out, pointing blasters at the shocked men in uniform. You slashed open the throat of the one nearest you, blood spurting from his neck and spraying your loth wolf mask.

"Surrender, these docks are now under the control of the Pyke syndicate," the leader of this faction spoke smoothly.

    The remaining guards nodded furiously with their arms in the air, glancing down at their slowly dying brother as he writhed, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. You threw your knife and stuck it square between his eyes just to quiet his chocked groans.

    Within a matter of hours many 'hot spots' were taken under various syndicate control. The Pykes had taken the docks. The Black Suns had control of a number of public meeting grounds, leaving the city center for Death Watch to make an appearance. Savage was currently overtaking the banks with members of the Hutt Clan's minions. All was going according to your master's plan.

    The following day you had hidden away your costume and disappeared into the crowd of citizens as the Duchess made her address to the people. Of course, she tried to calm them, ordering they wait this out, refusing to retaliate. You rolled your eyes so hard they could've fallen out of your head. She's making this so fucking easy.

    But when Vizsla broke the skyline, hovering in front of her with his guard your stomach turned at the sight. She couldn't have been quicker to accuse him of these attacks which if course he denied. He turned to speak to his people, giving a proper introduction and spoke with authority. He kept his speech short and strong. Promising to save the planet that the Duchess had so easily and eagerly weakened. You could sense the relief and admiration from the thousands gathered in the city center through the force just before cries of joy echoed throughout. It made your heart flutter. Surely you were just picking up on the peoples' emotions you reasoned.

    Slowly but surely across the city members of Death Watch were rescuing the guards and citizens from their false imprisonment. Effectively dropping Pre Vizsla's name once the scripted gangsters were in custody.

    You tore away from the main vault just before Savage activated the detonator. "Keep up you weaklings!" He called to the Pykes as the two of you led the retreat eliciting a feral giggle from you. The both of you were throwing bystanders over the rail as you ran. Only one out of five actually fell to their death before they could be saved by the surviving guard.

You're supposed to rid the galaxy of fear not ignite it!

    The voice boomed in your mind causing you to halt just around the corner, shaking your head furiously, confused. Death Watch was waiting for you as planned. It was Vizsla himself who fought Savage with the dark saber. Coming out of your confused stupor only sent you reeling into a new one at the sight. It was choreographed for sure but still, you did love a man who could wield a weapon of the sort. He submit Savage and turned his attention to you with a smirk on his face. Thanking the gods that the mask hid your blush as a binding cable shot out of his gauntlet, tethering around you. You fell to your knees and although that was the plan, your emotions had clouded you and it was not necessarily a false win on his part.

    At this point of the plan Maul wanted you to keep a close eye on the Death Watch leader. Vizsla had his own reasons for wanting you by his side so it took little convincing for him to lend you some spare armor and a helmet as he stormed the palace with you and his team. As predicted, Satine didn't struggle and he shot you a victorious glance nudging his elbow into you. You couldn't stop the bubble of excitement as it manifested itself in a stifled giggle.

    That night you stood by his side on the tallest terrace while Savage, the leaders of the Pykes and the Black Suns knelt in binders below. The crowd of Mandalorians chanted Vizsla's name as Bo Kataan addressed them, announcing that Vizsla would lead them forward if the people would accept him which they whole heartedly did.

"Its gone even better than I could've hoped."

    You turned your helmeted head to face him. The voice you heard just before your capture never stopped echoing in your mind. You knew this was wrong. Your role in it anyway. You shoved your subconscious down deeply inside yourself as you responded to him.

"The people love you. They think you saved them."

"I wouldn't be where I am without you."

"Or without the Pykes, without the Hutts or the Black Suns. Truly at its root you wouldn't be here without my Master. I fear you forget, he orchestrated all of this. You'd still be on that moon grasping at straws without him." You straightened your back and looked back towards the crowd calming the storm that raged within you. Sensing his twinge of displeasure through the force as your loyalty was solidified before him.

      In the throne room Maul finally joined your band of criminals. You quickly returned to his side earning an approving glance from him. Vizsla's eyes narrowed finally understanding exactly how far your loyalty lay with your master.

"Good of you to join us Lord Maul." His annoyance was adamant and you felt something uneasy stir in you. Maul seemed to sense it as well as Vizsla's guards slowly formed a half circle behind you.

"The transition of power will be seamless; we now have the support of the people and Satine to bait Kenobi." Vizsla continued, confident as ever. "With his demise our deal will be complete."

Maul crossed his arms over his chest inadvertently flexing his biceps and his chest as he rumbled.

"Your oversight requires correction... we now have a base, an army and the means to expand into other neutral systems."

Vizsla scoffed. "It wasn't an oversight. It was intentional. I don't have an interest in another systems. Your vision no longer matters."

With blasters pointed at your heads you and your master growled as the members of Death Watch placed you in binders while Vizsla took the throne.

"Oh don't fret, I'll still honor our deal. Kenobi will be dealt with but now you'll do as I say." You snarled at his words. You fucking hated the way your arms were trapped behind you. Baring your teeth, you shot daggers into him as he turned his attention to you, an almost pained look in his eyes.

"You however darling I will give one and only one chance to rid yourself of this angry brute." He loosely waved his hand in Maul’s direction. Your Master's pupils dilated and his chest vibrated in fury.

"Join me. Rule by my side and I will give you everything you could ever want." He extended his hand out to you as Bo Kataan reluctantly guided you to him.

    Maul roared with a bestial, primal rage filled roar that shook the windows while his guard pressed the blaster harder into the back of his head. You smirked and leaned forward so your face was inches apart from the false king and you hummed seductively.

"You sweet, foolish human man. You have nothing I could ever want. You will never have anything I could ever want." You straightened and cleared your throat, spitting in his face.

    He angrily wiped the spit off of his cheek as Bo fired her blaster that had been set to stun, dropping you to the floor at his feet.

"It’s a shame really." Vizsla grieved. "Such a waste of someone so beautiful and powerful." He kicked you down the stairs that led to the throne.

"Take them away!"

  "We still have time to put in place a ruler that will bend to our will. By putting us in prison he has only placed us within reach of viable candidates." You stirred at your Master's whispers.

"Then we shall find one!" Patience gone from Savage's tone, you opened your eyes and took in your surroundings. A thick glass door, starkly bright white walls of the small cell the three of you were crammed into. You sat up on the cold bench you had been resting on. Rubbing your temple as Maul sat beside you wrapping one arm around your waist.

"Your loyalty to me is astounding and appreciated my young apprentice. You will be rewarded in due time." He traced your jawline with a finger while he turned his attention back to Savage.

"Calm yourself brother we will find one. Vizsla has imprisoned the Duchess here and various other political figures who will serve our purposes well."

"Hey! Quiet you monsters." A guard called out to the three of you.

"Savage, I wish a tour of this facility."

    Maul helped you to your feet and Savage smirked, using the force to shatter the glass subsequently launching the mouthy guard over the rail and far down below. Without your sabers you reached your hand out to one more guard as he gripped at his throat. Your teeth bared you clenched your fist pulling a delicious crunching sound from his now limp body, tossing it aside.

    Once you found the Duchess it didn't take long for her to point you directly to the kind of man you sought. She had thought she was being clever, sassy and insulting but like all other areas in her life; she failed.

"Thanks blondie." You taunted as the three of you made your way to the next cell. The former Prime Minister called Almec was confused that Maul was interested in him and the cause of his imprisonment. Once he explained that he was here on charges of corruption for dealing in the black market his suspicion that you were in league with Vizsla was satiated at the death of a third guard. Killed by Savage for firing a stray blast in their direction.

"I can see you are powerful but how would you overthrow Vizsla? Just the three of you?"

"He is a solider therefor bound by honor. I will challenge him to single combat and once I defeat him, take possession of the Dark Saber, the Death Watch will follow my rule. You will then act as my puppet, ruling falsely in my stead while I take control in the shadows."

"Yes. Yes that will work. According to the ancient laws of Mandalore his men will be bound to follow you."

    The four of you smiled with determination as you led Almec from his cell, killing the few and far between guards that stood in your way of the throne room.

[wkemeup]

Guiding Light (6)

summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 7.3k warnings: torture, angst™, graphic descriptions of violence, the peak of the angst ive been warning yall about 🖤series masterlist // series playlist

You laid on your stomach upon the hard lumps and broken springs of the mattress, the weight of your body heavy, impossibly aching, and somehow feathery light at the same time; like your body was not your own, like you were just barely inhabiting your own skin covered in bruising and dried blood caked into your hair, bones protruding where thick muscle once sat. Unrecognizable.

Lids heavy, you dragged your arm up to the corner of the ground under the mattress, shifting slightly and taking up all of your energy to do so. A few scratches in a single line amongst forty-seven marks of the same; tiny white lines along concrete.

Forty-eight days in Hydra’s captivity.  

“How you doing over there, Y/n?” Danny’s voice called carefully through the wall.

You closed your eyes, turning your head to face the wall, staring at the crack that allowed you an ounce of sanity in your imprisonment. Your fingertips reached out and brushed the line in the wall. Tiny rocks fell from the fracture, sharp edges scratching at your skin.

“M’okay,” you replied, though the rough tone of your voice betrayed you.

You could still feel the worn muscles and aching joints from where Cain had beat you senseless for the sake of the camera a few days prior. He had yet to explicitly tell you what your purpose was in Hydra or why they bothered keeping you alive at all, but you could tell they were ramping up to their endgame soon. Whatever it was, had to do with Bucky.

You suspected it from the beginning. They were too quick to taunt him in your face and he had become the main subject of your interrogations as of late. You had handled the videos up to this point as best as you could. It was what you were trained for, but the moment you saw Bucky’s name listed upon the cue card, you broke.

You had outright refused to say his name aloud in such a place and Cain, in his unending frustration with you, had cut off your air supply with the grip of his hand until you lost consciousness. He only released long enough for you to come back to, and then he’d close his gasp again. He did that four times before he relented.

So, despite the tears in your eyes, the awful break in your voice, and the sickening guilt in your stomach, you spoke his name at the demands of the same nature of men who had tortured and mutilated Bucky Barnes until he resembled something outside of himself.

You spoke his name and you told him he was at fault just before Cain nearly beat you to death for the second time.

When you regained consciousness hours later, you couldn’t stop crying. Heaving and desperate to catch your breath, just to picture his face as you spoke those words, words you had so carefully worked to convince him of otherwise in the three years since you’d known him. Those words were never supposed to come from your mouth, never should have parted your lips, echoed in your voice. They were lies; vicious and cruel because you knew that Bucky would latch onto them and take any excuse to give into the dormant fears in the back of his mind that constantly wondered if he really was to blame for all the bad in the world.

You had so vigilantly kept your mind away from Bucky since you’d been here, focusing only on old memories, on his smile and the blue in his eyes, on something warm and kind you could hold onto, but then suddenly, all you could think about was what he was doing without you, if he’d retreated so far into himself he resembled the withdrawn, self-loathing man you first met in the kitchen before sunrise drinking coffee or if it was worse than that, if he dove back into missions and reckless behaviors and gave into the empty part of himself he reserved for the soldier.

You weren’t sure which was worse, but having to think of him being anything other than the incredibly kind, gentle, wonderful man you knew tore at your heart in ways you couldn’t explain. You didn’t want to think that you could hold that kind of power, that being ripped from his life would alter him in such a way. His recovery was too important for that. And yet, if you let yourself think of it, if it had been Bucky that was taken forty-eight days ago and you were the one left behind, you knew with certainty that your world would have come crashing down. It has.

“When's the last time you ate?” Danny asked as a tear slipped over the bridge of your nose, bringing you out of your thoughts. You brushed it away, glancing through the small hole in the wall. Danny had been working on making it bigger, just enough so to slip a few spare bites of food to you in the days Cain ordered the agents to withhold your food as punishment.

It wasn’t large enough to catch a real glimpse of the kid in the cell beside you, but the most you could gather was the orange waves of his hair having grown from the buzzcut over the month since he arrived. Soft freckles on his paled skin and the tan camouflage pants of his military uniform.

“Don’t know,” you replied honestly. Your body had stopped growling for food weeks ago. The pangs turning into numb aches that never quite seemed to go away. Danny didn’t say a word as he pushed a bite of bread throw the wall and it dropped to the concrete by your mattress.

“Danny, don’t,” you urged, though your fingers brushed over the bread, your mouth already watering as you touched the spongey surface. “You need to eat, too.”

“They feed me on a daily basis, Y/n,” he countered, pushing through another piece. “I can afford to share with you. Please, eat.”

You brought the first bite to your mouth and swallowed it before you could even taste the stale texturing. It brought relief for a brief moment, though not nearly long enough, and you picked up the second piece.

Danny let out a groan as he attempted to push another piece of breath through the wall for you, a side effect of the beating he took shortly after yours. He estimated he had a few bruised ribs and some swelling around his eye, but insisted he was unharmed, better off than what they did to you, he would say.

You still didn’t know why they took Danny in the first place or why they were keeping him alive. This young, inexperienced soldier who was too kind and too naïve to second guess breaking protocol to help a stranger start their car. It didn’t make sense. He had no information he could give, no secrets he could expose. He was just some kid.

You mumbled a thank you as Danny took a steady breath, ripping the bread into pieces.

“You're the Avenger here, you know,” Danny chimed in light-heartedly as another bite landed into your outstretched hand and you smiled through your cracked lips, “you need to get your strength anywhere you can grab it so you’re ready for when your team comes for you.”

As easily as it came, your lips fell back to a straight line. You swallowed back the last bite he was able to offer you.

You spent the rest of the day curled up on the mattress, trying to find sleep despite the horrible aches in your body and the likely concussions you had sustained. You were still waking up after you fell asleep, so that was a decent sign at least.

The only good thing about filming those awful videos was the fact that Cain and his men left you alone for a few days. Even if it meant no food, it also meant no torture, no questions you’d refuse to answer, no nails pulled from your skin, no knives carving into you or fists barreling against your bones. It meant peace, if only for a little while.

“Hey Y/n?”

“Yeah, kid?”

Danny paused before he spoke again, a nervous shift as he turned on the squeak of his mattress. “Will you tell me about the Avengers? What they’re really like?”

You turned so your back fell against the mattress, a wash of relief over your muscles. Staring up at the ceiling, you studied the water stains and fractures in the tiling as you considered his question.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” Danny quickly retracted. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No. No, it’s okay,” you sighed, the soft semblance of a smile aching over your lips as you tried to find comfort upon the mattress. You had tried to keep your friends away from this room for so long, that the thought of having them with you, in memory, in spirit, in conversation, brought a kind of warmth to your chest you hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Who do you want to know about?”

First, he asked about Steve, which made sense as Danny had enlisted young without any other prospects. It didn’t surprise you that he idolized the man who went from the small, scrawny kid to a decorated war hero. What did surprise you was that Danny was more interested in who Steve Rogers was than Captain America.

So, you told him the story of when you first met Steve; how he was shyer than you would have expected and had a serious aversion to following rules. He was reckless for the right reasons and passionate for what he believed in. You told him about how Steve volunteers with Sam at the VA and helps facilitate support groups for veterans with PTSD.

Danny listened intently as you talked, asking questions here and there. He was still so young and full of the kind of awe you’d see on the streets of New York when you’d race through the city on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle as Tony and Sam flew above the crowd, chasing behind Steve as he ran at exceptional pace. It was the kind of genuine excitement of a generation who grew up with superheroes in their backyards.

Then, you told him about Tony, how he was far kinder than the media gave him credit for. You told him that he was a good man under all that sarcasm and wit and about how he routes his charity donations through international banks just to take measures to keep it anonymous. You told him about the lavish parties he throws to raise money or help improve the Avenger’s public image and how he somehow became known as the modern day Gadsby, which he had explicitly states he resents.

He asked about Natasha with a slight tremor in his voice, like he was almost fearful of even saying her name, but you told him she was witty and compassionate and fearless unlike anyone else you knew. You told him she was your closest friend and that she had spent countless hours of her own free time to train with you when you first joined the team. You told him that she always wore socks around the compound, even on the hottest summer days, and made the best homemade bread you’d ever had in your life.

You told him about Sam, who was always your main source of laughter, who had a comeback for just about everything and the heart of someone twice his size. You told him about the time Sam once drove five hours just to get a specific type of chocolate from his childhood in the days after you came home from a mission that had more casualties than anyone had expected, hoping the sweets would bring back even an ounce of your smile.

Danny was enthralled the entire time, so eager to learn more and asking the kinds of questions you’d only get from someone who genuinely cared, who spent most of their life looking up to superheroes and wanting to embody them as he got older.

He asked about what it was like living at the compound, if superheroes ordered pizza, what kind of shows secret agents watch on Netflix, and what you did when you weren’t on missions. He got you laughing enough to forget about the pain in your body and the warmth of the memories allowed you a brief distraction from horrors of the room you laid in.

“They sound awesome,” Danny exhaled with a laugh and you could only picture the grin that spread over his lips, cheeks aching from smiling for so long.

“Yeah, they kinda are,” you chuckled, surprised to find you had been smiling too. Even through cracked lips and discolored bruising on your jawline, a smile still found its way back to you. How it was possible this kid was able to bring that out in you, you didn’t know.

“What about, um,” Danny started with a nervous tick in his voice, “what about Sergeant Barnes? You haven’t mentioned him...”

You clenched your jaw as you focused on the watermark on the ceiling above you, suddenly a dry ache burning in your chest that wiped away your smile.

“I know the papers talk a lot of crap about him,” Danny went on to say, “but I don’t believe that garbage. He served his country, spent decades as a prisoner of war for it, and this is the way we treat him when he comes home? It’s bullshit. He’s a veteran who got dealt a shitty hand and he shouldn’t be treated like an enemy. All these assholes talk a big game but if it came down to it, none of them would have been able to survive what they put Sergeant Barnes through, let alone resist all the brainwashing Hydra forced on him. They’re all a bunch of cowards. He’s a hero if you ask me.”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. It wasn’t often you came across someone who so adamantly and without persuasion believed in Bucky’s innocence. Sniffling back tears, you pressed your hand to the crack in the wall, like it was an extension of you, like maybe Danny could feel your appreciation through the barrier. The small glimpse of him you were able to see through the hole in the wall turned to you, a soft smile on his face as he pressed his hand to the crack.

You let your hand fall away, taking in a deep breath as Danny settled in against his own mattress.

“Bucky is the best man I know,” you said, the words flowing out easily, because they were true and because just being able to talk about Bucky, to have him with you like this, might have been the only thing keeping you from falling apart. “He still has a hard time accepting what Hydra did to him, what they made him do, but he’s come so far. The progress he’s made has been just... amazing to watch. He’s so strong and he cares so much but he holds the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. I just wish the rest of the world could see him the way you do.”

“I’m sure they’ll get there,” Danny replied. “They just got to get to know him, right?”

“It’ll take time,” you chuckled softly, thinking back on fonder memories.

So, you told Danny about your first interactions with Bucky nearly three years ago; how he had sat at the kitchen table hunched over his coffee at the early hours of the morning, silent and brooding for weeks before he so much as spoke to you. You told him about the first time Bucky stuck around in the kitchen as you stretched before your run and how avoidance turned to tight lipped smiles, which turned to mumbled greetings until he stood dressed in running shorts and worked up the courage to ask to go with you.

“Takes a while for him to warm up then?” Danny chuckled.

“Didn’t let me carry a conversation with him until after a few days of running in complete silence,” you confirmed, smile brimming at your lips.

You told him about the day you dragged Bucky into Brooklyn and brought him to the bookshop where you purchased a series of novels on your catch-up list. The first one he read was To Kill A Mockingbird and he had latched onto the character of Scout, pulling you aside at every opportunity to talk about what she stood for and why she was so important as a character. He asked if you would help him find essays and articles about the author and what inspired her. It was the first time you had seen him excited, eager, like he had a kind of hopefulness and light in his eyes he was lacking.

You told Danny about the playlist you started for Bucky, how it had started out as records of music from the decades he missed and the best of your generation before it turned into something else. He learned he leaned towards the acoustic trends of the 70s and 80s in bands like Fleetwood Mac and artists Jim Croce, but he’d find himself asking about your favorite music, songs you’d put on when you need uplifting, songs that made you cry, songs that he’d relate to, and he’d ask if you’d put those on his playlist, too, even if you weren’t sure if he’d like it. He told you he’d love anything you did. You’d hear the playlist echo down the hall at all hours of the day.

You told him of your first mission with Bucky in Vienna, how you would have bled out in the combat zone if Bucky hadn’t carried you out of there. You told him that Bucky was incredibly brave and selfless behind all those layers of guilt he carried upon his shoulders. Even in the months he was suffocated by the shame of it all, before he was able to start swimming back to the surface, he was still impossibly kind for the cruelty he had experienced.

He found a way to step back into the light and you could only pray he hadn’t fallen back to the darkness.

“You really care about him, huh?” Danny sighed.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to picture Bucky’s face. Details were starting to fade away, like the two freckles in his forehead and the patterns of gold trimming on his left arm, and that was what scared you the most. But you could still picture the blue of his eyes, the soft wave in his hair, the smile that left crinkles along the side of his face, and that was what kept you from succumbing to Hydra’s torture, to their demands.

“I love him,” you exhaled as tears slipped from the corners of your eyes. You had only said the words aloud once, from behind the glass barrier that kept you from him on the day you were taken. Saying it now, so far away from the man who needed to hear it tore at your chest but it made it real. It reminded you that it happened, that you had loved someone so deserving and so beautiful and that it was worth it, even if it led you here. Even if you’d never get the chance to tell him again.

Danny didn’t say anything, but you could hear the gentle sounds of his breathing as he listening intently. His hands brushed over the crack in the wall, the shadow casting into your room, and you mustered a sad smile, knowing it was his way of letting you know he was still there, still listening.

You brushed your nose, sniffling back more tears. “I um, never had the courage to tell him until I realized Hydra was going to take me prisoner. Thought I might not ever get the chance again and I couldn’t let him go on thinking I didn’t love him, that he wasn’t worth it or didn’t deserve of something more, because I know he thought those things of himself.”

“Does he feel the same way?” Danny asked cautiously, sincerely.

“Don’t know for sure,” you shrugged, running your fingers under your eyes to wipe at the tears. “I think he might. It’s hard to believe he would so willing open up to me the way he did, trust me with his burdens and the horrors in his dreams if he didn’t, but I...” you let out a heavy sigh, one that crushed on the weight of your chest, “I don’t think I’ll ever know.”

“I don’t understand,” Danny paused, a soft shuffling as he adjusted on his side of the wall, “of course you’ll know. You can tell him again when he gets you out of this hell hole and I’ll knock sense into him myself if it’s not the first thing he says to you.”

You chuckled through the tears on your cheeks, biting at your lip to keep your voice from breaking. “I don’t know about that, Danny.”

“But you said they’d come for you,” he questioned and a lump burned in the back of your throat.

“I know,” you confessed, “but things don’t always work out the way they should. I know my team is doing everything they can to find me. I know Bucky is doing everything he can but… people like me, in this job, we don’t always get happy endings. I’ve done more good than bad, saved more people than I’ve killed, than I’ve lost, but… the universe doesn’t take that into account. We’re all the same in her eyes and she won’t favor me because of who my friends are or how much evil I’ve prevented.”

Danny took in a careful breath after a moment of consideration, and then, “you don’t think you’ll make it out of this, do you?”

You wiped your hand over your eyes, wet tracks on your skin.

You thought of Steve and Tony, who you were sure were tirelessly working around the clock and overworking their staff to track down leads they ultimately wouldn’t find. You thought of Sam and Natasha who would spend every waking hour in the gym if they weren’t out in the field because neither of them ever learned how to sit still when something was out of their control, how Sam would resort to his charm and wit to pull the rest of the team from their hopelessness and how Nat would put on a smile and pretend like she was handling it better than she was.

Then, with a broken heart, you thought of Bucky; of ocean eyes and warm smiles, of the smell of old bookshops in Brooklyn, and sitting at the floor of your bedroom listening to music and introducing him to new books. You thought of sitting at the kitchen counter at five in the morning and the bitter taste of black coffee. You thought of morning runs and sparring in the gym, of his laugh and the glances he’d steal in your direction.

You thought of the look on his face the last time you saw him, how he had promised he would find you, lips read through the glass barrier, and how wholeheartedly you had believed him.

But that was forty-eight days ago.

“I’m not sure anymore.”

***

Later that night, you found Bucky in your dreams. At the end of an impossibly long hallway, dark shadows in overcast shielding the lights, locked doors on either side as you sprinted towards him. He stood still, impossibly so, and the floor seemed to stretch under you as you ran. Your legs were too weak, pace too slow. He was getting further and further away despite the hot breath in your lungs and the ache of your legs.

You screamed for him, but your voice was gone, broken and raspy, coming out in only a whisper. He reached out for you but the darkness was pulling him in. It wrapped like tentacles around his wrists, his ankles, his neck, but you were gaining on him, just a step away and your fingertips brushed his in a sweet moment of relief until he was yanked back sharply from your grasp.

Into the darkness he fell and you tried to follow, but you couldn’t see. You felt around aimlessly but there was only the cruel mask of empty space around you. Heart beating painfully, sobs racing through your body, and you shouted his name. A broken, desperate plea, to be unanswered.

Suddenly, you were pulled from your sleep with the series of loud clicks at the door; locks unfastening quickly resulting in a sharp twist in your chest as your heart rate increased, a conditioned response even on the verge of consciousness.

“Rise and shine, princess!” Cain’s voice barreled into the cell as the door slammed open.

You groaned, pressing your face into the mattress as the influx of florescence filled the room. Even your nightmares were better than whatever Cain had in store for you. At least you saw Bucky in your dreams.

Harsh hands gripped onto your arms and yanked you from the mattress. You tried to walk, to carry yourself to the chair bolted to the center of the room, but these men wouldn’t allow you the dignity of that. They tossed your body around like a rag doll and threw you into the chair, quickly fastening the restraints.

They were cowards. If you were at your full strength you could have taken the pair of them down, and yet, even weakened and starved and beaten, they still felt the need to cuff you under metal sheets that punctures and burned at your raw skin, red and swollen.

You turned to Cain who was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, and an obnoxious, smug smirk curved upon his thin lips.

“What do you want?” you rasped, voice still altered from the last time his hand was wrapped around your throat. He chuckled at that, whether it was your taunt or the state of your voice, you weren’t sure.

“You should watch your mouth,” Cain warned, “especially since I’ve come with news for you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Means your little boyfriend and your team of insufferable idiots just captured one of our men,” Cain replied casually, though the hardened tone of his voice remained. He pushed himself from the wall and he began to pace around you. His hand touched your shoulder as he rounded your chair, fingers sliding up your neck, around your back, and down your left arm until he faced you again

You watched him carefully, chest panting a little harder, heart in your throat.

“Jennings is a seasoned agent and he will bide us time, but it won’t be enough,” Cain continued.

A dread settled in your stomach. “Enough for what?”

“The Avengers are getting too close,” Cain said, blatantly ignoring your question, “and we will have to resort to drastic measures to get them off our tracks.” He looked to the door and Moira, the blonde woman behind the camera you had come to know, stepped through the door. Cain pressed a kiss to her cheek and she kept her eyes on you the entire time, like it was meant to be an affront. The video camera hung from her left hand.

“We’ve got a new video to shoot today,” Cain smirked, “ain’t that right, baby?”

Moira nodded. “Got something real special in store.”

They stepped aside and a new figure was shoved into the room, bound and restrained by agents, one that made your heart stop completely. It wasn’t possible, not as far as you knew and you knew pretty well from your trips to see Shuri with Bucky. This kind of technology was far beyond SHIELD’s capability and Wakanda hadn’t even breached the surface on this yet.

It wasn’t possible.

Heart in your throat, your lips parted in shock, unable to process what you were seeing.

Cain smirked, amused by the panic coursing over you and he turned to Moira, black mask curling into his right hand.

“We go live in ten.”

***

Bucky’s breaths were heavy in his chest; calculated as he filled his lungs every few steps, legs burning as he raced down the busy streets of Manhattan. A silver Toyota Highlander weaved in and out of traffic fifty feet ahead, carrying inside a Hydra affiliated scientist who had been rumored to know where they were keeping you, had maybe even laid eyes on you in person within the last three weeks.

Jennings was the one to give the scientist’s name after days of interrogation: Anton Sokolov, a geneticist known for his work on those with enhanced abilities. Sokolov’s father was one of the men Bucky became familiar with in his years under Hydra’s rule. It appeared an affinity for experimenting on unwilling human subjects ran in the blood.

“I’ll cut them off on 42nd,” Steve’s voice echoed through the coms, accompanied by the roar of his motorcycle.

“Why the hell are they heading to Times Square?” Sam grunted from several hundred feet above Bucky’s head. Wings expanded as he dove through the sky, just ahead of Bucky, enough to keep a watchful eye on the SUV. “They’re not going to escape through there. What are they playing at?”

“Capture first, ask questions later, Wilson,” Nat said through the coms in her usual teasing tone. Wind captured in her mic as she held onto Steve’s back.

Bucky skirted out of the way of a cyclist passing through the intersection as he ran straight through a red light in effort to keep up with the SUV. He was gaining on the van, closing the gap the closer he got to Times Square, the heavy traffic of pedestrians increasing with every block. Only, Bucky wasn’t running any faster. If anything, he was losing energy from the sheer exhaustion of running after a car for nearly thirty-six blocks.

They were slowing down.

“Something’s up,” Bucky panted into his mic. “They’re leading us to a trap.”

“There’s nothing out ahead of you,” Tony reported. “I’m above 42nd and 7th. You’re clear.”

“Bucky’s right,” Steve said, the roar of his engine pulling to a halt. “If they were trying to run, they took a wrong turn about forty blocks ago. They planned this.”

“Guess we better be ready for anything,” Nat replied, a tone of excitement in her voice. She was always ready for something like this. Wasn’t trained for anything else.

“Here we go,” Tony sang as the SUV passed 41st street. From above, Bucky could spot the red and gold shimmer of the iron man suit suspending in the air as he aimed an open palm at the ground ahead of the van, shooting a single blast that took out the front two wheels.

Pedestrians were screaming, running away from the scene; tourists paused to pull out cameras and iPhones at the sight of the Avengers in action while native New Yorkers kept their heads down, headphones in as they continued their commute without interruption.  

Tires broke and tore from under the van, rubber flying out to the sides as a deafening screech rang through the streets. Electric sparks burst from under metal as it scrapped along the pavement until ultimately, the SUV skidded to a stop.

Tony and Sam touched down on either side as Bucky sprinted up to the side door, denting the frame as he crashed into it. He released a guttural scream and ripped the car door from its hinges, throwing it several feet down the street.

Inside, he was met with a man in a white button-down shirt, glasses, and a black tie, holding his arms out to the side in defense. The two men in the front seat were hunched over the dashboard, the blast from Tony’s suit rendering them unconscious as blood dripped down the side of their face from the impact.

“Soldat, it’s so wonderful to see you,” Sokolov smirked, thick Russian accent as he taunted the very man who carried vengeance in his veins. Bucky gripped the cold metal of his left hand around Sokolov’s collar and yanked him from his seat, tossing him into the street and he skidded along the pavement on his back.

Bucky pushed Sam aside and stalked towards the Hydra scientist until he stood above him. Sokolov laid on his back, making no effort to run away as Bucky slowly knelt above him, his right hand curling into a fist as he raised it, ready to strike.

“I’m done with these games,” he growled. “Tell me where Y/n is, now!”

“Buck, you’ve got an audience,” Steve said carefully, appearing just a few paces ahead of him. Bucky glanced up slowly, eyeing the crowd of people who had gathered on the sidewalks, standing at a careful distance though they held their cameras and phones out to capture the Avengers in action, to capture the Winter Soldier beat a man to death.

“Yes, Soldat,” Sokolov taunted, “don’t want to upset the balance of your public image any more than you already have. You’re already a monster in their eyes. Do you wish to prove them right?”

“Shut the hell up,” Bucky spat, clenching his metal fist around Sokolov’s shirt, his right arm shaking as he held it above his head, closed into a fist. He looked up at Steve, panting, sincerely trying to bring himself back from the brink of darkness but he couldn’t find the end of the tunnel, not without you. “He knows where Y/n is.”

“That’s right, I do.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, gaze snapping back to Sokolov, who seemed quite pleased with himself. Even Steve and Sam, who stood above him wore the shock evident upon their features. Nat and Tony who had been carefully controlling the crowd to keep them from coming closer froze as they heard it through the coms. It was one thing to hear it through rumors, but another for it to be confirmed.

“But you’re too late,” Sokolov finished, pursing his lips, satisfied with the way desolation quickly replaced the ounce of hope swimming in the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “You wasted too much time, Soldat. She cannot be saved.”

“You’re stalling,” Bucky sneered, glancing up to Steve for support and he mustered a short nod.

“I was with her just days ago,” Sokolov grinned through yellowed teeth and dried lips as Bucky’s heart dropped, his stomach twisting into painful knots. “You have not seen her the way I have. She is weak. Pathetic. You do not see how she cowers in fear, how she cries out your name, begging for you to save her while we tear her apart!”

“No, you’re-- you’re lying,” Bucky accused but his throat had run dry.

“Am I?” Sokolov jeered, a laugh on his tongue. “Do you really think so, Soldat? You think that she is strong enough to withstand what we did to you? You think she could survive the torture and the pain you remember so well? You think we would even allow her to live!?”

Bucky let out a scream and dove his fist to the side of Sokolov’s face, a deafening crack of cheek bones as his knuckles hit flesh. He couldn’t stop himself, tears in his eyes and weeks of desperation and hopelessness rushing to the surface, and he swung again and again until his fist was bloody and broken and Sokolov had stopped laughing, stopped smiling, stopped taunting Bucky of the very nightmares he couldn’t remove from his head.

“Bucky,” Steve gasped, his voice distant, fearful, looking elsewhere, but Bucky could hardly hear him over the ringing in his ears.

Sokolov had slumped over, his body limp; unconscious, though still alive. Bucky panted, sweat dripping from his brow onto the man’s white dress shirt now dampened in red. He fell back from his knees, muscles aching and tiny rocks of the pavement imbedded into his right hand.

“Buck,” Steve said again, an urgency laced through his name that made Bucky narrow his eyes up at his friend. Steve swallowed, glancing down at Bucky with a kind of horror he had never seen in his eyes. For the first time, Steve Rogers was speechless.

It was then Bucky noticed the crowds had silenced completely save for a few murmurs behind hands clasped over mouths. A pin drop could be heard in the middle of Manhattan, at the center of Times Square. Steve nodded up to the sky and hesitantly, Bucky followed his gaze.

There, upon every screen in Times Square, replacing each advertisement and billboard down 7th avenue, was you.

Bound and strapped to that same God forsaken chair, silver tape covering your mouth for the first time, and tears streaming down your cheeks. Your heavy, exasperated breaths could be heard echoing through the street, your eyes frantically searching for something Bucky couldn’t see. In the top right corner of the screen was a single red dot. He realized with a horrible pang in his stomach, that the video was being streamed live.

Bucky scrambled to his feet, rushing a few yards forward, though he had nowhere else to go, no way to reach you through the projection of the screens. He spun in a circle, catching every monitor you were visible on, surrounding him from all sides.

“People of New York,” a voice called out, grainy and distorted, as a man in a black mask stepped into view of the camera. Hushed gasps came from the hordes of pedestrians watching in horror as the man grabbed a tight hold of your hair, enough for you to whimper. Bucky’s hands were shaking at his sides.

“Hydra has no demands. Only, a message to the Avengers,” the man continued. He pulled a silver handgun from behind his back from the waistband of his jeans. Bucky’s heart was in his throat as the man dragged the barrel of the gun suggestively up the side of your arm, over your collarbone, along your cheek, until he settled it at the nape of your neck.

Your breaths were coming in too fast, panic in your eyes Bucky hadn’t even seen the day you were taken, a kind of helplessness that shook him straight to his core.

“You are nothing compared to the reach of Hydra,” the man growled as he pressed the gun harder against your neck, forcing you to twist your head in search of relief. “These so-called heroes are weak, defenseless, and they cannot save you. They are made up of war criminals, assassins, soviet spies, washed up army brats, and arrogant billionaires. They will turn on you. They will turn on each other. They. Are. NOTHING.”

Bucky glanced back at his team, wide eyes fearful and powerless, his own voice lost to him.

Tony was cold faced, jaw clenched tightly as he watched the monitors. Sam knelt by the edge of the SUV, hands clasped over his knee, head bowed save for the moments he dared to look at the screens. Natasha was pacing back and forth relentlessly, hands curling and uncurling into fists by her sides, muttering under her breath as she glanced up at the projections, only to turn away as quickly because seeing you like that wasn’t something she ever thought she’d have to face. Steve stood just a few paces behind Bucky, watching him more than the monitors, his chest rising and falling at a speed that betrayed the calm nature of his expression.

There was nothing they could do. Entirely helpless but to watch.

“You will learn,” the man stated, straightening his back as he took a step away from you, withdrawing the gun and Bucky sighed of relief, though it was impossibly short lived. “You will learn that your heroes are no better than us and that, above all else, they are... mortal.”

Bucky heard the gun fire before he saw it.

The worst of his nightmares paled in comparison to the fear that coursed through his veins, the paralyzing shock that ripped and tore at him in ways Hydra had never been able to when he was held under their fist; not even under the sharp edge of a scalpel, or the machine that obliterated his memories.

The sharp echo of the sound punctured straight through his heart and he stumbled backwards, breaths short, uneasy, excruciating; watching in horror as you slumped forward in the chair, blood spraying onto the wall, dripping down concrete in thick beads.

“N-no,” he gasped out, rushing forward, staring up at the screens as blood soaked through your hair, your body unmoving. His hands curled against his pants, his jacket, shaking violently, and he couldn’t breathe. His vision was closing in, too blurry from the wet tears burning in his eyes.

Upon the screens, the man gripped at your hair, yanking your face up to the camera and Bucky heard a wail from behind him; Natasha. Your features were slack, eyes staring off far beyond where he could see and clouded over in a cold, unforgiving stare.

“No!” Bucky cried out, his voice breaking in the effort and burning raw in his throat, “no, n-no, please... God, no...”

The man shoved the chair until it tilted on its side until you fell from frame. The man laughed, a cold sinister kind of sound that curled its way into Bucky’s chest and lit him aflame. He stepped towards the camera, close enough that Bucky could see the color of his left eye, green, and the scar that rendered his right useless.

“And you dare to worship the Avengers like Gods,” the man sneered, his lips curving in a satisfied grin.

Bucky let out a scream and it echoed through the silence of the streets as he yanked the gun from its holster on his thigh and fired the entire clip into the closest billboard he could find. Bullet holes pierced the monitor, altering the image’s frame as it fragmented around it, shards of glass and plastic falling from the sky, and then it turned black. He felt no relief as he turned to the dozens of projections lining the streets, taunting him.

Then, the man stepped away from the camera and the video went dark.

Silence took over Times Square and Bucky stumbled on his feet; legs too weak to hold him. Muffled whimpers could be heard from the sidewalks, tearful cries as bystanders huddled together, holding one another, hundreds of pedestrians rendered witness to the murder -- the execution -- of an Avenger.

Bucky heaved, desperate to catch his breath, but he was too light headed, darkness tunneling in his vision and he fell to his knees. Rocks in the pavement punctured his skin through the layer of his pants but he couldn’t feel much of anything. Hands grasping at the fabric of his suit, trembling violently as a sob racked through his body, enough for it to echo amongst the silence.

A pain so indescribable burned and festered in his chest, unable to find a release, he pushed it from his body in a cry so heartbreaking, it cracked his voice, tears streaming down his face; no energy to care about the hundreds of onlookers.

He’d been subjected to so much evil in his life, so much hatred and cruelty, and you had been the good to come out of it. The one thing that led him through the darkest parts of his mind to the end of the tunnel where the warmth of light touched his skin again. You held him and encouraged him and helped him find his own footing so they he could walk there himself, towards the light he so desperately craved.

But that light had extinguished. Smothered and suffocated.

It died with you, leaving Bucky surrounded by the cold arms of darkness.

Alone.

------

This is the serious angst I’ve been trying to warn you about... Theories anyone? 😅

tags 🗽 @musiclover1263​ / @pies-wands-and-more​ / @buckygrantbarnes​ / @mywinterwolf​ / @breatheeagainnnn​ / @jewelofwinter​ / @panic-naran​ / @fairislesheets​ / @kaliforniacoastalteens​ / @captain-hammer-of-asgard​ / @daydreamsquad​ / @deanssweetheart​ / @maybesomedaytho​ / @montypythonsholysnail​ / @saharzek​ / @jillybeaner13​ / @chubby-dumplin​ / @searchingforbucky​ / @alohafromhell1​ / @tabalugax​ / @shesalatesh​ / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp​ / @aliensbecameourstyle​ / @bucksgoat​ / @serpensortiaaa​ / @trash-rats-unite​ / @hungry-pasta​ / @nervosaa​ / @lbuck121​/ @get0verit​ / @obama-mia​ / @imsoft-barnes​ / @this-broken-band-girl​ / @michelehansel​ / @itz-kira​ / @forever157​ / @grey-water-colors​ / @sebastianstan-posts​ / @sarcastic-and-cool​ / @no-clue-whats-happenin​ / @capsgrl​ / @happyeyesandsunshine​ / @slithredn​ / @13sunken-ships13​ / @thefandomplace​ / @sweetheartbarnes / @jennmurawski13 / @galaxkay / @moonlessnight14 / @wxstedhexrt

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 202

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 Go Go! 04 - “Deliver Urara’s Script!” Date watched: 19 December 2020 Original air date: 24 February 2008 Screenshots Transformation Gallery Project info and master list of posts

Sometimes you get an episode that shouldn’t work, but it just does because of the sincerity of the delivery. You may correctly assume this is that episode. It’s a mundane episode about returning a lost item, but the emotions on display are heartfelt and passionate. Let’s dig in.

The Plot

Syrup arrives at Natts House to deliver more letters from Milk and is startled by Urara tearfully proclaiming she has to leave. It turns out she’s practicing for an important audition and the other girls, especially Komachi, are giving her feedback. Syrup is still a bit confused since he’s not familiar with the concepts of acting or performance, but he watches anyway. After the intro, we go over to Eternal for a few minutes, where Anacondy praises Bunbee’s report writing after the last episode and tasks him with gathering more information, passing him a huge stack of papers. He wanders down the hallway and runs into Scorp, asking him for help in a gag that involves him calling him a different name every single time: Scorn, Stamp, Slipper, Skunk, and even Slump. Scorp is not amused and leaves to retrieve the Rose Pact. Back at Natts House, Coco and Nuts detect the presence of a Palmin, and they go outside with everyone to try to find it, while Urara prepares to leave for the audition. A glance at her script reveals it is absolutely filled with notes, and she gives it a hug. However, she looks up and sees the Palmin, so she sets the script down and tries to snapshot the Palmin when her manager Washio interrupts her.

She hastily grabs her bag and rushes him out the door, accidentally leaving her script on the table. They arrive at the site of the audition, where a dozen other girls are already practicing, making Urara neverous. This is when she realizes she forgot her script, and at the same time, Nozomi and the other girls discover her script. Without hesitation they agree they need to deliver it to her, and they ask Syrup to do so, but he says he only delivers stuff for work. SIDE NOTE: as far as we know, he isn’t paid, so them asking him to deliver something is as much a job as delivering letters to and from the Palmier Kingdom. But whatever. Since Syrup won’t deliver it, the girls drag him along with them as they travel by foot to the audition. They take a “shortcut” that involves them climbing a hill with a ton of switchbacks, and Syrup really doesn’t like that. (BITCH, YOU CAN FLY) Nozomi and the girls explain that Urara will be worried without her script, and that her feelings are very important to them. They press on, despite Syrup’s complaints. They finally make it to the top exhausted, when suddenly Scorp shows up to rain on their parade. They protest that they’re on an important mission but he counters that obtaining the Rose Pact is equally important to him and he’s not moving, so the girls implore Syrup to take the script while they fight Eternal, and be begrudgingly agrees.

He dodges past Scorp and runs off while Nozomi, Rin, Komachi, and Karen transform and fight Scorp’s Hoshiina, which he has made out of the cobbled road itself. They throw it around but it manages to sneak in some hits on them and they lay on the ground, weakened, engaging in a battle of words with Scorp about the importance of Urara’s dream. Syrup reaches Urara and gives her the script, only for her to explain that she already has it memorized, but having everyone’s notes in it lets her feel like they’re right there with her. She picks up that something is amiss and demands that Syrup explain what’s happening to her friends, and he spills the beans but tells her to focus on the audition. It’s her turn to go up, so she enters the audition room and faces the panel of judges, and then.... she says she’s worried about her friends, tears up, apologizes, and runs out of the room.

Syrup delivers her to the battlefield, where the Hoshiina is just about to deliver the final blow. She tells Scorp she won’t let him hurt anyone anymore, then transforms, and the full team of five leaps into battle together, in a wonderfully animated sequence as they lay into Scorp and declare again that their strength comes from their bonds. Lemonade unleashes her new special attack, Prism Chain, where she creates two chains made of butterflies and swings them from behind her to directly in front of her in a pincer move, causing the chains to wrap around the enemy and dissolve them. Scorp dodges the attack but it manages to destroy the Hoshiina.

now watch me whip

Later, back at Natts House, Nozomi laments that Urara had to leave, though she assures her it wasn’t her fault. Washio shows up, telling Urara he heard about the audition, and he understands, he’s not mad, there will be plenty more opportunities for her. As he says that, his phone starts ringing and he takes the call. Syrup is still confused that she only needed the script for encouragement rather than the contents, so Coco and Nuts explain that the girls’ feelings are very important and powerful, they’ve left an influence on each other as well as the fairies of Palmier Kingdom, and they show him pictures that Milk has sent of life in Palmier to demonstrate. Just then, Nozomi notices a Palmin, and Urara captures it to make up for missing it earlier. Everyone gathers around to see what it turns out to be and..... it turns into the King of the Donuts Kingdom, one of the four monarchs!

The Analysis

As I said in the cold open, this episode doesn’t seem like it should work. It’s another cheesy filler plot with no stakes, not really any room for character growth, no impact on the plot (until the end). However, the writer for this episode has a knack for turning mundane premises into strong scripts, and a good director and animation director were tasked with bringing it to life, so it all comes together to be a strong episode.

Although it’s not as much about him as the previous one, this episode is framed mostly from Syrup’s perspective. This means we come into Natts House at the same time as him, in the middle of Urara practicing, and we see his confusion. This is actually clever, because while most of the audience already knows that Urara is an actress from watching the previous series, there’s always new fans who may not have seen the last season, so explaining Urara’s profession from the perspective of another outsider is an unobtrusive way to acquaint, or reacquaint, viewers with her. Furthermore, we stay with Syrup throughout, even when the focus shifts to other characters it’s still largely seen through him. He objects to delivering the script but they drag him along anyway up the cliff. When Urara asks him what happened to her friends, the cut to their fight is also framed such that it could be his vision of what’s happening, while simultaneously being what’s literally happening. And then, once again, the episode ends with Syrup ruminating on Urara’s acting process and the symbolic importance of her friends, as represented by her script. He’s starting to learn what makes the girls special and why their friendship is powerful. It’s a multifaceted framing device.

The real star of this show is Urara. She’s really pouring her heart into this part, but it’s the unquestioning support of her friends that keeps her motivated. This is most directly manifested by her script, but of course her concern for their well-being is incredibly powerful. She is absolutely terrified that Nozomi and co are going to be defeated by Eternal and that supersedes everything else. There’s obviously a tinge of irony that delivering her script to help her out is the catalyst to her leaving the audition. If they hadn’t, or if only Syrup had gone, then they wouldn’t have run into Scorp and Urara probably would have gotten the part. However, all four girls decide without a moment’s hesitation that they have to deliver Urara’s script and so they encounter Scorp, and this leads to her saving them at the last minute. This, as I say sometimes, is peak Precure. Her little speech to the panel of judges where she says she has to leave to save her friends is so emotional. Ise Mariya puts forth a strong performance but it’s the animation that really sells this sequence. She’s teary-eyed, and then the run down the hallway is well-drawn, and it culminates when she steps outside the building. There’s a gorgeous 360 degree turnaround as she scans the horizon for signs of her friends. This sort of shot is hard to do in 2D animation.

Also the music swell helps to sell the intensity. Urara’s desperation is tangible. She wants nothing more than to rescue her friends in this moment, and nothing can stand in her way. When she arrives at the battle, her friends are on the verge of defeat, but as soon as she joins the fight the battle turns around. It’s a fast-paced fight with the girls swooping in, beating up Scorp, and then unleashing the finisher. It’s another well-animated sequence and the contrast between how the team of 4 and the team of 5 fights is night and day.

Once again you’ve got the continuous spinning camera that helps sell the scene. The distortion of the characters, especially Scorp, actually works in favor of the speed and excitement of the scene. This is what Urara brings, this is what they can do when they’re all assembled. That’s what I mean when I say this episode is better than it ought to be on paper. It’s a threadbare plot but the emotions and the artwork come together beautifully.

The major theme of the episode is support. Nozomi, Rin, Komachi, and Karen support Urara’s goal whole-heartedly. They help her rehearse, giving her tips and people to play off of. They run to her aid when she needs it without a second thought. Even fighting Scorp is a way of showing their support, they’re keeping him from attacking Urara during her important audition while sending Syrup to give her the script. And at the end, Washio is also being very supportive, and I appreciate that. He doesn’t act sad or disappointed or upset at her for bailing on her big audition, he understands that she had her reasons and just says there will be another chance. The support network of friends who have each other’s backs, who care about each other, who are stronger together, that’s what makes this larger team dynamic work well and stand apart from the duo series. There’s obviously something powerful about the two girls who can only transform together, and I love the Futari wa shows for it, but the larger team of heroines who can operate independently if necessary but are exponentially stronger together is also wonderful, and this episode really exemplifies that.

Also a quick note, I wanted to briefly discuss the geography of this town. In the middle of the episode, there’s a gag where the girls are climbing a huge cliffside because it’s the shortest way to their destination.

If you recall, all the sweeping shots of this pseudo-French town have shown it to be fairly flat. For there to be a cliff face somewhere in the middle of it with a bunch of switchbacks is incredibly unusual, and I don’t think this setting has been seen before or since. It’s just there for the gag of them running up this huge thing.

All told, this was a phenomenal episode and I’m glad for it. After a disappointing first couple of episodes, this one really hit the mark.

Next time, on Precure Daily, Karen is taking suggestions for the school! Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 kettei!

[thelastofthecrazypeople]

After having jumped directly from ME1 into ME2 I had some feels about my Shepard and Kaidan and I needed to put them somewhere, so here we are.

I’m gonna tag @pineapplemountain because they said they might want to read it. Everyone else is also invited to read it of course.

The truth is I'm too tired to play pretend

I never thought coming back to life would be like this. Then again, I never really thought about what being reborn might be like before now, you know.

On the other hand, I also didn’t picture dying like this. Floating out in space, the wreck of my ship – my home – in front of me, terrified and alone.

And then nothing for a long while.

Until I woke up – I woke up from death – terrified and disoriented, with strangers looming over me, just to be put back to sleep and woken up again with sirens blaring in my ears.

This part though, was the easiest of them all. Snapping back into action, arming myself and moving through a foreign base while taking out things out to harm me, was more a reflex than a conscious action, something I’d done so many times before that I clicked into it seamlessly.

It didn’t leave me time to think about, well anything, either. That would come later, after fighting through the shooting mechs and meeting Jacob and Miranda. After my first meeting with the Illusive Man.

The foolish thing was that for a moment - a brief second - when I stepped foot into the new Normandy and greeted Joker and hadn’t really had time to process anything; a small part of me thought, hoped that it could be like before.

I could gather my old crew together, as much of it as was still alive.

I could finally see Kaidan again. That thought - finding Kaidan, making sure he was alright with my own eyes - stole my breath for a tic and almost blinded me with want, before I could remind myself that more important things were at stake.

Duty comes first - the golden rule of any good soldier. The word of the Illusive Man that Kaidan - any of my crew really - was alive and well would have to be enough until I had taken care of some of the more imminently pressing matters.

Of course, hoping things would return to the way they were was a foolish thought to have. As much as I declined working for Cerberus, I was still to some extent a part of them. I still used their resources and their money and their people to further the mission. I still owed them my life.

And a big part of me knew that that was something Kaidan could never forgive. Not after what we’d seen them do. Not after what we’d fought against.

Settling into the Normandy was strange and uncomfortable.

I can’t count how many times I walked into Miranda’s office deep in thought and ready to sit down at my desk, before seeing her face and remembering that this wasn’t my office anymore. She took it gracefully, let me fumble through an excuse or a hastily thought of question before allowing me to excuse myself.

How often I almost reflexively walked to the space where Kaidan’s workstation used to be just to find myself faced with the kitchen and a puzzled cook.

It was disorienting in a way how the ship was familiar and just different enough to make me feel vertigo whenever I searched for the stairs up to the CIC, just to find myself facing the observation deck and remembering that the stairs are no longer part of this ship – were never part of this ship.

It’s the same with the crew in a way, people manning stations I expect somebody else to stand behind leaving me distracted and disoriented.

Of course I put effort into getting to know my new crew, I’m still the CO of this ship.

Their lives are still mine to protect.

It is still my duty to support them in any way I can.

And me knowing my team, knowing what makes them tick and where their strengths and weaknesses lie, what their hopes and dreams are is still the most integral part of securing the success of our mission.

Yet it still feels lonely sometimes - with things so achingly familiar and yet so foreign.

Then there’s Garrus. Where I spent two years healing, my body knitting itself back together, he had time to grieve and to try to cut out a new living for himself. He - like this ship - is the same and yet changed.

Of course he is; I wouldn’t blame him if I could and I hardly can. But his presence is a strange reminder of everything we were and everything we could have been. It feels like we are both walking wounded and neither really knows how to help the other but damn are we trying.

Things look up for a bit, we recruit talented new people and I can feel the crew - myself included - growing closer. I feel like I’m making progress.

I don’t stumble into Miranda’s office quite as often or startle the cook by searching for a workstation that has never been there. I use my cabin more, even if I still don’t like how it isolates me from the crew just by being too far out of the way of everyone else.

I can feel myself getting back into the rhythm of an active ship.

I can feel myself adjust to new routines.

And then Horizon happens.

The whole mission is a clusterfuck of immeasurable dimension and yet at the end of it, after living through it all, the biggest hit lands.

After every way I tried and failed to find him, Kaidan Alenko walks right up to me.

That hug was the best thing in a while, even sweaty and bloodstained and exhausted as I was after that battle.

Maybe especially after that battle.

But I let my guard down too soon. I should have known Kaidan wouldn’t take my alliance - however tentative - with Cerberus lightly. And I did know. The logical part of me knew all along that he wouldn’t be okay with it. Even if we saved him and as many colonists as we could - not enough by any margin.

Even if he still loved me.

But my heart - foolish as it was - yearned for him with a wordless hunger and it hoped without hope.

I wasn’t prepared for his words. I’m ashamed to admit that I took them badly, replied angrier than I wanted to instead of explaining calmly, trying to make him understand why I did what I did. Why I had to do what I had done. Why he could still trust me and believe that I was the same Shepard he knew before, not some cruel copy.

In the shuttle back to the Normandy, his words still reverberated through my brain. I was sure it would be the last thing I ever heard from Kaidan.

I spent hours that night tossing and turning, mourning something that had barely begun to be; a promise given before a suicidal mission, a light to cling to in dark times.

Our time together haunted me worse than before I’d seen him. Not just that night before Ilos; we had been friends long before starting to become something else. The silent conversations, knowing looks and easy silences left just as big a hole as the physicality of our night together. Maybe even a bigger hole.

Morning arrives too soon and not soon enough and I revel the fact that I have to get up and face the day as much as I curse it.

I’m well into my daily routine when Kelly Chambers notifies me of a received message. I get until the word “sorry” before I have to log out of the message and excuse myself from the CIC. I practically flee into the elevator and for once I’m actually grateful for the fact that my quarters are well away from everyone else.

The message is like a punch in the gut - even just those first few words: “Shepard, I’m sorry”

The fact that my crew doesn’t see me like this - ragged and barely keeping it together, blinking away tears - is a godsend right now.

They don’t deserve a commanding officer like that. They deserve a CO that is level-headed and calm not crumbling at the edges.

I make sure to seal my quarters after entering them – I don’t want any of them accidentally walking in on me like this.

I hesitate before walking to my desk and the private terminal set up on it, try to take steadying breaths, to steel myself for whatever else the message might entail.

Part of me wants to delete it unread and unseen, run from everything it could mean for me and him.

Part of me wants to desperately cling to every single thing still connecting me to the man I love.

In the end, I can’t quite bring myself to stay away, so I sit down and open the message to read what else Kaidan has to say:

“Shepard, I’m sorry for what I said back on Horizon. I spent two years pulling myself back together after you went down with the Normandy. It took me a long time to get over my guilt for surviving and move on. I’d finally let my friends talk me into going out for drinks with a doctor on the Citadel. Nothing serious, but trying to let myself have a life again, you know? Then I saw you, and everything pulled hard to port. You were standing in front of me, but you were with Cerberus. I guess I really don’t know who either of us is anymore. Do you even remember that night before Ilos? That night meant everything to me… maybe it meant as much to you. But a lot has changed in the last two years and I can’t just put that aside. But please be careful. I’ve watched too many people close to me die – on Eden Prime, on Virmire, on Horizon, on the Normandy. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you again. If you’re still the man I remember I know you’ll find a way to stop these Collector attacks. But Cerberus is too dangerous to be trusted. Watch yourself. When things settle down a little… maybe… I don’t know. Just take care. –Kaidan“

All the air in my lungs rushes out of me with that last line. It’s too vague and too full of maybes and just hopeful enough to hurt like a dagger buried between my ribs. My next inhale shudders through my lips and I can feel the tears I’ve been holding back dislodging without my permission.

For a while I stare at the screen blindly, still trying to comprehend what this means for me. What it means for us.

But answers aren’t forthcoming – the screen gives me nothing more than what I already know and so I turn away from it – my gaze gliding half-heartedly over the model ships over my desk, the armour locker next to my bed, before coming to a halt on the fish tank.

The deep blue of the water and the movements of the fish inside have always calmed me down, helped me ground myself and I hope they will do the same for me this time around as well.

I don’t know how long it has been since I fled the CIC, how long I’ve been staring at the fish – just that I’m not crying anymore and the dutiful part of my mind has been screaming at me to get up and go back to work for a while.

Usually I’m unable to turn that part of, ticking away inside of me, aware of every minute, every second and how I could make more of it.

Usually it’s one of my favourite parts of myself, constantly driving me to be better, to do more.

Usually I’m not drowning in my own feelings with a suicidal mission looming ahead.

Usually I’m not playing with the idea that dying for real might not be such a bad thing this time.

Now it’s just an empty howl in the back of my mind – overshadowed with by a lethargic detachment in the rest of my body.

It’s not until EDI chirps in her corner and informs me – with more tact and professionalism I’d expect from an AI – that my presence is required in the CIC, that I finally gather myself enough to get up.

“I’ll be down shortly” I reassure her, before turning to my bathroom to splash some water in my face. It’s bad enough that I just abandoned them in the middle of the day – my crew doesn’t have to know how emotional this whole thing has made me.

I take care to rinse my face thoroughly, hiding any evidence of ever having cried – carefully putting myself back together as I work with methodical, precise movements. Once the person staring back at me from the mirror looks suitably presentable - looks mostly like myself – I straighten out my uniform one last time before heading back to the bridge.

I still feel like there’s a hole in my stomach, threatening to swallow me whole – but right now is not the time to indulge in it.

My crew needs me.

And I will be there for them.

[bioticgoddess]

The Mountain

Notes: this is a drabble/short series, started working on it when I was (coincidentally) in the mountains...just not the mountains in question.  

Pairings: Bucky x OC (Taryn Lantz), 

Series Summary: The Avengers (Tony really) finds the HYDRA base where Bucky underwent surgery to replace his arm and initial/secondary conditioning after his fall from the freight train. 

The Mountain: Five Days 

Chapter Summary: When they go to investigate the Alpine Base everything goes to shit.

Chapter Warnings: Implied death; Grief/Mourning; A lil Fluff; A lil Angst.

---

They had found it. Well, Tony had found it. The HYDRA base where Bucky had been taken and worked on immediately following the fall from the freight train. It was deep in the Alps and, much like Siberia, any paved roadway to it was blocked in by snow. The base’s main entry was carved into the foot of the mountain, meant to be hidden and difficult to access for any who didn't know about it. Inside, the team had paired off in order to recon the abandoned facility - Steve and Bucky, Nat and Clint, Sam and Taryn.

That had been where everything went FUBAR. They had relied on their Intel; it had been very wrong. The base was not only active but staffed, albeit a skeleton crew compared to most of the HYDRA facilities the group, even Bucky and Taryn, had run into since the fall of HYDRA. They’d gotten into fights with the agents and, surprisingly well armed/trained, technical staff. Right until one of them slipped past Steve and managed to trigger the base’s fail safe.

After that, and for the first time in years, Bucky woke from a nightmare and Taryn wasn’t there to help him out of the fog and back to center.

He cried.

After the HYDRA agent had triggered the self destruct, the team had scrambled to evacuate the facility. Even sweeping up as many unconscious HYDRA staff as they could. As charges went off around them, knocking out supports and walls, it brought a part of the mountain down in multi-ton chunks. Everyone managed to get out at higher levels within the base except Taryn. The Inhuman had been in the vehicle bay, heading for the main garage access door when she’d been trapped inside. Some of the rock ceiling and fallen at the end of the tarmac and blocked the outer door.

Pushing out of his bed, Bucky walked heavily to his desk. Lump in his throat, mouth dry and cottony, his mind played everything over from that mission. It was like a rerun of a bad horror movie. A photo of he and Taryn from their first few weeks back in the states greeted him. One from before he had mustered up the courage and kissed her. She smiled out of the frame at him.

“I’m so sorry doll,” he whispered, reaching out to run his fingers along the image of her cheek.

Closing his eyes, their last conversation replayed in his mind. “Guys, I...I don't think I’m getting out,” she whispered into the comm. They could hear the rock coming down around her.

Desperation colored Bucky’s voice as he started to answer her. To try and keep her focused on getting out, “We’ll come get you, where in th-”

“Bucky there’s no way to get here! I'm stuck behind a wall of rock.” She cut him off, crying, he could hear the her voice break, “Bucky I -,” then her com had cut out. That had been five days ago. Five days. And he felt like he’d lost a limb all over again.

---

Day 1:

She'd found an alcove, a drainage access cut in the wall of the mountain where HYDRA must have once pumped out water and G0d knows what else. It had been a split second decision and has lost her both her com and her cell phone in the process. The way she landed cut a couple nasty lines down her right thigh and calf, but she was able to get a barrier up around the outside of the corrugated metal tube. Inevitably the rocks stopped falling, the world stopped shaking, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Well this is a fine kettle of fish you've landed yourself in Lantz. Brilliant,” she chastised herself softly, trying to staunch the bleeding on her right leg.

“Okay,” she took a deep breath, stripping off the first of the two tank tops under her jacket. With some help from her pocket knife, the Inhuman split the garment into strips and wrapped them around the worst of the gashes. “No use bleeding out,” she muttered, taking in her surroundings. The whole tunnel was reinforced and led farther out of (or into) the mountain, she wasn't sure which.

“And no use dying here,” she added, pushing herself to stand faster than her bloody leg appreciated. Clenching her jaw against the bolt of pain she steadied herself.

Limping along, she made up her mind and headed further down the tunnel.

---

Day 5: 1255 Hours

On the flight home, Bucky required sedation. A lot of it. It was that or he was going to jump out of the Quinjet - even if he’d had to fight the others to do it.

Thankfully, Clint’s perfect aim wasn't limited to his weapons, or golf. He’d hit the other Avenger from the pilot’s seat with a syringe full of enough sedative to knock out the Hulk. All things considered, it seemed like the best course of action at the time. Even now, five days later, he was under constant watch. Steve and Natasha, with the help of FRIDAY, kept him from drowning in the wake of Taryn’s death. Their goal: keep him on some sort of routine so he didn’t have time to let the next hit be his last.  

“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY said, the AI’s lilt jarred him from his work out enjoy that the punching back swung back and hit him.

“Oof. Yea FRIDAY,” he responded slowly. He’d barely broken a sweat. For the first time in years felt like an utter failure in ways he couldn’t yet articulate. That said, it made his lackluster attempt at boxing less than surprising. There was a long pause that made him physically uncomfortable; he called out “FRIDAY?”

The AI’s voice rang out in response, “Apologies Sergeant. Mr. Stark was correcting the time but there’s a meeting at 1700 this afternoon in the media room. I haven't been given any specifics beyond that” She apologized again to Bucky before signing off.

Looking at the clock he sighed heavily. It was 1300, he had time to prepare for the meeting. To steel himself against more bad news. The last one, three days earlier, had confirmed what they all knew: HYDRA had brought down the base with a number of precision demolition charges. While unlikely, SHIELD was going to search for survivors and bodies alike.

He swallowed, he needed time to try and get his head on straight for the meeting and whatever it was about.

Since returning to the Compound, he had even less love for group activities right now. In a lot of ways he wasn't sure he would ever be okay being social again. Even with Steve. At least not like he had been before this last mission. He swallowed, dragging himself to the men’s showers. “C’mon Sarge! You can do better than that,” he could hear Taryn tease him about the work out. Something she did even when he was in fine form.

“Yea, well, you aren't here to make me now are you,” he grumbled, the double doors swinging behind him.

---

DAY 2:

Between her biotics and what brute force she could muster, Taryn had found her way out of the drainage pipe. It had, thankfully, found the outside of the mountain. She’d slid down the steel and bruised her tailbone before the thing leveled out. As she ambled down the mountain, dragging herself through the the woods towards what looked like a village, she breathed heavily. “Alright Sarge, got any words of wisdom for me?” If only he were there.

Everything hurt.

She tumbled back down the last few feet of the incline, landing face first in the dirt and laughed at herself. “Keep your feet under you doll,” she muttered, half mimicking Bucky’s intonation and tone. It also added a number of additional bruises and minor scrapes to her hands, arms and a nice one along her left cheek bone.

There was an old gas station near the edge of the town in the valley before her, closer to her than any of the other buildings. If she was lucky there would be an first aid kit and a functional phone. And people would be easy to avoid.

Like a depressing majority of her generation, Taryn didn't know most of the phone numbers she’d received in recent years. Those she did recall were old and probably disconnected. Nor was it like she could call an operator and ask to be connected to the Avengers Compound or the mobile phones for Captain America or any other Avenger. No, all their phone numbers were unlisted and the devices heavily encrypted. Even the one she lost in that mountain.

Then she it on it, a Eureka moment and one number for a friend from college came to her. And one who owed her a favor.

Several favors.

----

Day 5: 1400 Hours

He’d been hit with a wave of emptiness almost immediately after he’d gotten back to his room from the gym. The bed looked empty, the kind of empty that made him so acutely upset he’d actually thrown up. It came from knowing that she wouldn’t be curled up next to him again. The second he’d been balanced enough to do so, he practically ran from the room.

Ultimately, Bucky found Wanda in her room.

Wanda, he knew, felt Taryn’s loss as acutely as he did. The girls had become thick as thieves during their time in Wakanda. From what he understood, she was the closest thing to best friend (besides himself) the Inhuman had.

“How are you holding up,” he asked, half startling the brunette from her thoughts.

She smiled half heartedly, “It's not as bad as Pietro, but…” She trailed off, hand skimming a long some photos of the two women from earlier in the year. From some party Stark had thrown in the compound - one of the two or three done shortly after the others returned to the states. “How about you,” she asked after a moment, closing the album.

He shrugged. Bucky hadn't really come to talk about how he felt. He'd come to be around someone else who was to Taryn. His hesitation was almost palpable. Swallowing he managed, “Like my whole world’s gone...again.”

“They don’t want to declare her dead, not til there’s a body to bury,” Wanda said, palming the pendant sized urn around her neck. It was all she had left of Pietro, physically at least. Of his person. The way he’d influenced her life, however, was there to stay. Running her thumb over it, she whispered, “My brother, it was...easy, well easier, to give him a proper send off. His body came back with us. Her...I just hope they find her soon. She deserves better than this.”

Bucky nodded. He couldn't argue there.

---

DAY 3:

There had been a phone. Praise Jesus there had been a phone! Even better, a set of keys for one of the cars in the gas station’s lot - practically begging her to take them. She’d dialed the phone number she remembered and prayed - to whoever was listening - that her college buddy still had the same number. It had been a miracle when the Frenchman - Luca - had answered. It got even better when he confirmed his sister - Juliana - was refueling the family jet for a trip.

After some cajoling...and agreeing this would set the pair even, they’d set up a rendez-vous point just outside the mountain range near Zermatt. Which, based now what Taryn told them about her location, was the closest town to where she’d fallen out of the mountain. Juliana could land just about anywhere. Including water if she had the right plane.

It had taken several hours of careful driving, and a few panic attacks about driving along mountain roads, but the Inhuman made it. Idling by the side of the roadway that Juliana and Luca had picked out, Taryn checked her bandage. “Well this’ll be a nice scar,” she muttered. The first aide kit she’d picked up from the gas station left much to be desired but with it she’d managed to do the job.

Settling in the back seat of the car, injured leg propped up, Taryn drifted off to an uncomfortably restless sleep.

---

Day 5: 1545 Hours

Steve had found him, isolated in his room, and brought food he hoped the other centenarian would eat.  

Bucky merely picked at his food. He maybe ate half the sandwich and didn't touch anything else on the plate at first. There were some chips, a couple pickle slices, and a cookie. Things he’d have practically swallowed whole in any other situation. He’d always had the bigger appetite out of the two, even now. Well, until the second trip to the Mountain. That was two things the Alps had stolen from Bucky.

“I can't tell you it gets better. But you're not alone,” Steve said, squeezing his best friend's shoulder. He had, as they all knew, lost Peggy for the final time just before finding Bucky in Romania. Despite his relationship with Sharon, the void left by her aunt was always there. Changing his tone some, he added, “But, you also know how much crap she'd give you for not eating.”

That made Bucky chuckle and he finally pulled a chip off his plate, crunching it slowly.

Bucky ate his way through half the chips before the nausea hit. And it hit every time he even thought about eating, and that assumed even had any appetite at all. Clint had noticed it before Steve, that he had had next to zero appetite. He had pointed it out to him on their second day back that Bucky hadn’t eaten, or even drank, anything since getting back to New York.

Between that and the nightmares this was most time they had spent together in one room since the mission.

He wouldn't even speak to Sam, who'd been paired off with Taryn in the base. Despite protocol, the two had split up to investigate opposite floors. They hadn’t even been in line of sight to one another by the time HYDRA started bringing down the mountain. If they had, both men surmised, then she would be in the infirmary not buried under G0d knew how many tons of stone.

---

Day 4:

The sound of the airplane descending woke her from her fitful sleep. She looked up, rubbing her eyes, as the sleek hunk of metal practically danced its way to the ground.  If she hadn’t known better, Taryn would have sworn it was a QuinJet the way Juliana piloted that thing.

“Where to cheri,” called Luca from the main door as his friend extricated herself from the old SUV.

She chuckled, limping up the passenger on-ramp, “The Avengers Compound, upstate New York. Google it.”

“Oh! I know where it is,” Juliana said as her brother and his friend settle in for the flight. She updated the computer with the new nav data and took off. Everything she did in the cockpit was fast and precise, almost like watching Clint or Nat pilot the Quinjet.

The g-force rattled Taryn, pinning her to the seat temporarily as they took off unceremoniously. “Why does it not surprise me that she knows where the Compound is,” she muttered, wincing as the pressure released.

“Terregensis made my sister, and her eidetic memory that much more annoying” Luca laughed. She had been one of the few dozen Inhumans teens Taryn ferried through New York to pick up points for a couple of the Inhuman enclaves around the world. Places they would, if everything worked, be afforded the opportunity to go through Teregenesis.  

---

Day 5: 1540 Hours

“Hey Taryn! This thing wants some authorization codes or something,” Juliana was frantic, waking the other woman from the first real sleep she’d had in several days. It sounded, however, like FRIDAY was ready to send out the Air Force - or more accurately Tony - to handle the plane.

Clearing her throat, the Inhuman clicked a button on the comms layout, “Relax FRIDAY it’s me. Got some friends to fly me home.”

The AI practically stammered a response, if that was possible, “Voice print confirmed. Now where the hell were you!?”

“Ha. Ha,” she groaned, “Hi mom. So can we land? Because I need one of Bucky’s hugs and a massive cup of coffee.” Caffeine pills had been no substitute for the glorious taste of one of Nat’s or Wanda’s concoctions. “And do me a favor,” she added quickly, “Don’t tell Tony. He’ll want to tell everyone.”

There was a pause before FRIDAY continued, “Go ahead. The team is having a debrief in the media room regarding the Alps Incident shortly, 1700.”

Juliana began landing procedures.

Shaking her head, Taryn asked, “FRIDAY...where’s Bucky?”

“In his quarters,” the AI replied. “Shall I let him know you’re en route?”

Taryn carefully pushed herself up from her seat as the plane landed, “No. I’ll go there first. Thank you FRIDAY,” she said, heading from the plane to the main compound. Only after she made sure he was alright could she let herself do anything else. It had finally, as they landed, dawned on her just how long she'd been gone. The way her comms were cut off, what the team must have thought. What Bucky had to be feeling weighed heavily on her most of all.

She'd been so preoccupied in getting home that she had had time to contemplate anything else.

--

1642 Hours

He had thanked Steve for the food and, unceremoniously kicked his friend out of the room. Stating that he needed some time to himself before the briefing.

He laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes burned from the tears he'd tried to hold back today. He didn't want to go to this meeting. He wanted to stay here, in his room with those things of hers that had migrated down from her room to his in the last few months. Today had been the first day he hadn’t cried for hours already.

Rolling over on his side, Bucky could see out over the lawn of the compound. That had been one saving grace in the room placement. That being able to see the open space and freedom meant Bucky never felt confined even when he wasn't allowed to leave the compound. It had always helped that his Inhuman companion could coerce him into doing something other than stare out the windows or train.

He wrapped his arms around her pillow, burying his face in it - the smell of her was still there. “You’d have something to say about all this wouldn't you,” he whispered, no energy left in him to cry.

Almost unbidden he could hear her tease him “Like how you shouldn't have your shoes on the bed.” Her voice was soft. No...it was too loud to have been his imagination. It was almost like she was...

Bucky sat up and spun around with one kick of his legs. His breathing quickened and he felt the dump of endorphins and adrenaline in his system at the sight before him.

Leaning heavily against the door jam in her torn and soiled combat suit, Taryn gave him a soft smile. Her hair was sweaty and matted in those places it had fallen out of the braid over the last five days. She was covered in dirt and dust and looked like she needed a bath more than anything else. “Taryn,” he whispered, pushing himself up to stand, half afraid she'd disappear. Like this was a cruel hallucination, right until she limped over and wrapped her hands around his waist.

“You’re alive,” he said, bowing his head and pressing his face to the crown of her head. The brunette was still standing, in truth she wasn't sure she'd be able to get back up if she sat down right now.

She whispered into his shoulder, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Bucky.”

“You're alive,” he repeated, “That's all that matters.” He was rubbing circles between her shoulder blades.

Smiling she laughed and he kissed the top of her head, “I missed you too Sarge.”

“Hey Buck we -,” Steve called from the hallway going slack-jawed when he saw them. “Taryn! When did…y’know what, never mind. ” Bucky glared at his best friend, he didn’t like the interruption - not at all. And to hell with Tony’s meeting. After a moment, Steve regained his senses, and pulled the door closed. He clicked the lock on the door before it closed - leaving the pair to their reunion.  

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Feedback welcome! I hope y’all enjoyed it! The next part will be up this time next week or shortly thereafter. 

Requests/Asks are open. :D