#though some cause for him to be drawn to skylines and cities and urban jungles is interesting

[brucenorris007]

y’know that comment or tweet or whatever the hell about Sonic Prime that it seemed weird or even wrong to see Shadow in Green Hill?

how do you think he feels, being in that kind of environment?

he seems to go out of his way to avoid excessive greenery if he can help it; whatever time he was on the ARK with Maria was in a highly industrial and sterilized environment for her benefit, and most other times we see him, ShtH for e.g., he’s within eye line of a city, presumably by choice

is it an emotional thing, an attachment to the familiar, whether he recognizes it in himself or not?

(granted it’d also be hilarious if, say, it’s about his reputation and status as the Ultimate Life Form-yeah, I know, he regards Sonic as potentially the Real Thing-and he shouldn’t have any concerns about diseases or whatever but it turns out if he’s around grass for too long he sneezes for the first time in his life and he immediately decides it is Not Okay and No One can Ever Know)

[marvel-lucy]

The Fall, chapter 9

You want more overwritten melodrama? No? Well sorry, here’s some anyway. Complete story Masterlist is here

Steve flung himself forward, in a horrible mirror of seventy years before, but he was too late. By the time he reached the edge of the fissure, there was nothing to see.  The grinding sound of the earth gradually settled down but still Steve didn’t move.  He lay on the shattered floor, not caring as broken concrete dug into his body and dust settled out of the air onto his tear-streaked face.  For years, he had suffered the same nightmares, watching Bucky fall and unable to reach him, and now it had happened again.

Finally, eventually, the chatter in his comm-link seeped through his desolation.

Cap, Barnes, come in? Anyone got eyes on Cap or Barnes? Where were they last seen? That explosion’s blown out too many sensors, we’re rebooting but we’re in the dark here. Cap? Cap?

I’m here. I… Bucky’s gone.

He pulled himself up slowly to a sitting position. His heart was pounding, and his hands were trembling.  He rested his head on his knees and wept.

Stark found him. Sensors finally re-aligned after being blown out by the explosion, he made his way through the broken base. The building was quiet, cold and dark, all power out.  Small fires gradually died out on the cold rock, their red glow making the dark even eerier.

Stark’s helmet opened.

‘Cap, what the hell happened?’

Steve lifted his head. His eyes were red, and there were blood streaks and bruises on his face.  He looked human and broken.

‘The door was rigged. It blew when Bucky opened it, set another one off.  He fell Tony… He fell, I lost him, I couldn’t…’ His voice thickened and cracked, and he broke off, swallowing hard.  

‘My suit’s at 5%, I can’t go down there right now.  We’ll look Steve, we’ll find him.  We’ll try…’

Steve’s head dropped to his knees again and he shut the world out as Tony took control.  More people arrived. He felt hands on his shoulders, offering comfort; heard conversations flying above his head.  None of it made sense to him.  Bucky had fallen, and he was gone, where Steve couldn’t follow.

He felt the heat from Stark’s repulsors as two of the suits took off and flew down into the chasm, saw with unseeing eyes the light bouncing off rocks in the dark.  He was chilled through from sitting on the floor, but he would stay there forever, better than leaving Bucky again

The suits flew back.  He heard talk, movement.  Something fell into the dark and the echo rang back loudly in the room. The suits flew down again, and he heard the whine and scrape as the armour dragged parts of the mountain around, deep inside.

‘Cap? Cap…’

The voice finally cut through his wretchedness.  He looked up. Romanoff was kneeling beside him. He focussed on her.  There was a dim glow from one of Stark’s suits, but the hole in the ground seemed to suck the light into its depths.  He tried to nod, to be strong, to show her he was there. She rested her hand on his shoulder.

‘Steve.  Did you hear? They found him. They’re bringing him up now.’

He stood, his body feeling its age for the first time.  He leant on the wall and watched his breath misting in the chill air.  He heard the suit fly up before he saw it, then the rocks glowed red with reflected light, then it appeared.  Bucky’s body was draped over the suit’s arms.  His right arm was flung over the suit’s shoulder, his left hung limp and unmoving, the metal crushed and scraped.  His trousers were torn and the red light made the blood glow too brightly.  There was bone visible.  Bucky’s face was turned away from Steve, and he was glad that he could hold off from seeing it for a moment longer.

The Legion suit landed heavily, and Steve waited for it to set the body down, knowing he would have to step forward, and that it would then become real. It didn’t stop though, walking forward, through the cleared route to the back of the room, and on through the base.  He couldn’t stop it.  He’d wanted to see, here, so then it would be over, and he could just sit there with Bucky until he died too, but to find the energy to follow him out of the base seemed impossible.

‘Hey, stop!’ he called, his voice filled with dust.

‘Steve, there’s no time, we’ve got to get him to the jet,’ Romanoff spoke gently, as if to a child who wouldn’t understand.  ‘It’s touch and go, he needs stabilising fast.’

He looked at her, uncomprehending for a moment.

‘He’s not dead? But the fall…’

‘He’s not dead Steve.  He’s not doing great, but he’s not dead.  You thought…?’ She rested her hand on his arm, her face full of sympathy.  ‘No, he’s not dead. I guess it’s always going to take more than a fall for that one.’

His face trembled as he began to laugh and cry, taking in a deep breath as the world lightened, then he made for the exit and the jet.

-

She had tried, on the fifth day, to contact him.  It had taken her all day to summon the courage to press send on the simple message:

Hope you’re OK

When he didn’t respond, she started drinking again, to wipe out the hope she had felt for a while.  The only care she took was of her plant, the one concrete symbol that there had been someone in her life, someone who even just for a moment, cared.  The plant flourished. She did not.

She had changed her shopping habits, so nobody could notice how often she was buying alcohol. A little variety to the day, breaking up the drinking and sleeping.  She wandered to a new shop, stood in the queue with a large bottle of vodka, and let her eye run over the newspaper headlines: ‘Explosion destroys Alaskan mountain.’ She didn’t care.

Then, two days later, the vodka gone, another shopping expedition, another store. She was waiting outside as soon as they opened in the morning.  Papers, newly delivered, were stacked by the stand. Another headline: ‘Is This the End of the Line for the Winter Soldier?’. Two pictures of his face, one from the 1940s, the other with longer hair, the smile replaced with hateful blankness.  Her breath caught in her chest and she grabbed at the paper, stood by the stand reading, trying to focus on the words.

Word from Avengers HQ is that the infamous Winter Soldier, also known as Captain America’s oldest and best friend, James Buchanan Barnes, is on the brink of death.  The mystery explosion which toppled an Alaskan mountain earlier this week has been revealed as a bomb planted by Hydra, the Nazi organisation Captain Rogers and his team are working to end.  Barnes was caught up in the explosion which ripped apart the mountain, his fall into a crevasse causing massive injuries.  The solder is now seen as a victim of torture and the world’s longest serving POW, and was being rehabilitated and living with Captain America in New York’s Avengers Tower. The Avengers have said, via a spokesperson, that Barnes’ injuries are severe and life-threatening, despite the serum which has given him his long life and youthful looks.  Our thought and prayers are with the Captain and his friend.  For more on Barnes’ life, see page 21.  For an alternate view on the world’s deadliest assassin, see…

She let the paper drop back to the stand and stood for a moment, finding it hard to breath.  Then she carefully placed her basket of shopping on the ground, and walked out of the store, overwhelmed.  Outside, the panic overcame over.  Her fists clenched and each breath came faster, whistling through her lungs. Her eyes filled with tears and she knew only that she had to move, to keep moving, that as long as she moved, he would be OK.  She started walking, towards the Avengers Tower she could see on the skyline and tried not to think.

It took her hours.  The sun was bright overhead by the time she reached the Tower.  There were press vans parked outside, the reporters waiting for any sign of movement like vultures.  There were tourists too, posing for pictures beside the giant ‘A’ symbol, and bunches of flowers tied to the railings.  Her heart lifted a little at that, that there were other people who could see the good in him and wished him well. She pushed her way through a crowd on a tour, heading for the large reception desk, out of breath and out of focus.  

‘Bucky, is he…? I’m a friend, can I see…’ Her words slowed.  She realised how she must look. Hair uncombed, clothes none-too-clean, the scent of alcohol on her breath. The guard was well-trained and polite, didn’t recoil or laugh, but she could only imagine how she must seem.

‘I’m sorry ma’am, all the team appreciate everyone’s good wishes but I’m afraid there are no visitors allowed.’

‘Of course, it was stupid… I shouldn’t have…’ she backed away as she spoke, her face flushing into sudden heat. Pushing through the doors again, she felt ashamed and humiliated, stood for a moment pretending not to cry, refusing to turn and see if the guard was watching her.

A cab, caught in traffic, caught her eye.  She held up a hand and moved forward, opening the door and curling into the far corner of the seat as she gave her address.  The cab moved off, slow in the lunchtime traffic in this busy area. She scrubbed her eyes with her hands and stared out of the window, barely seeing the city move by.

‘Hey, stop, can you pull over?’

The driver grunted with mild annoyance, signalled and swerved through the traffic to the blaring of horns. She pulled out some money and passed it over, barely checking the amount.  Her eyes were drawn to the sight in front of her.

Tucked under the railway tracks, behind a shaped metal fence, there was greenery spilling over into the city.  A train rumbled overhead, and the noise broke through her reverie, setting her moving forward into the site and the building beyond.  She pushed through the gate and found herself in an urban jungle. Water fountains trickled in one corner behind bamboo screens while terracotta pots stacked high matched the rusting paint on the rail tracks above.  This was the kind of place she would once have spent hours wandering through, letting her fingers trail through leaves, breathing in the wet scent of freshly watered earth and the heady scent of flowers.  Now she only wanted one thing, and had to shut her mind to the life growing prolifically around her.

Bypassing shelves stacked with seeds and pots, weaving her way through the store, she read the signs hanging from the ceiling until she found the row she wanted.  Glossy green leaves massed in front of her, plants competing for space and sunlight on the crowded shelves.  She walked slowly down the aisle, one hand running along the rough wooden edge, the scratching helping to anchor her and hold down the panic. Finding what she was looking for, she picked up and then rejected two pots before finding the best specimen, tall and healthy looking.  She wrapped her arms around the plastic pot, clutching it to herself as before she had clutched the child’s cup, and made her way back to the front of the store to pay.

Holding the plant carefully, she was about to leave the store when she noticed her reflection in the glass doors. She was wide-eyed with exhaustion and tangled with fear.  She turned back, found an assistant to speak to.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, is there a restroom here I can use?’

The woman turned to her with a friendly smile and took in her appearance and the plant clutched to her chest. She rested a hand on her arm gently as if she was a frightened animal.

‘Right this way through the coffee shop, I’ll walk you there.’ She kept up a quiet stream of chatter, not seeming to mind the lack of response as they walked through the store.  ‘Just through here.  Would you like me to hold your plant for you? Peace lily is it, lovely choice. I’ll be right here waiting.’

She went in, saw herself fully in the mirror now, no hiding.  Resting her hands on a basin she stared at herself, refusing to back down or look away. This was what she had become. Hands trembling, she turned on the tap, used paper towels to scrub her face, then dug into her bag for a comb.  Tidier, she just looked sad now.  Her face had gained new deep lines of sorrow since last she had really seen herself, and she was surprised at how much her loss showed.

Back out in the store, the woman was waiting for her. She thanked her, took the plant back, her shoulders perhaps a little straighter now, and left.  

The Tower was not too far away, she hadn’t come far in the taxi.  Before she reached it, she stopped, rummaged in her bag again for a pen. Folding back the paper bag to the height of the pot, she wrote a message on the bag. Inelegant, but she had to try.

At the Tower, the security guard had been replaced as the shifts changed.  She straightened her back, plastered on a smile, walked forward as if she had the right to be there.

‘Hello, I’m sorry to bother you, I have a delivery here for Sergeant Barnes, from a close friend.’ She held the plant out, leaving the guard little choice but to take it.  ‘Please see the plant gets to him quickly, and isn’t left sitting on a shelf. It’ll need watering, of course.’

She’d done all she could now.  She knew she wouldn’t get to see Bucky, and that was right.  She wasn’t anything to him, in reality they barely knew each other, and yet she felt broken that somewhere in this building, he was lying, injured, and not knowing she cared.  She looked up to the guard again, to say goodbye, needing to get out now, get back to the oblivion that alcohol could give her.  He wasn’t looking at her but was staring over her shoulder.  Frowning with confusion, she turned to look. Blue eyes rimmed with red, above dark circles showing the signs of exhaustion and fear she knew from her own face.

‘I’m sorry ma’am, I heard you mention plants. Was that… a peace lily?’

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