Hel stands with her eyes closed in the middle of the bustling crowd. The words of the people around her, once foreign and unfamiliar, begin to make sense the more she listens. Languages have always come easy to her, along with glamour — abilities that help her blend in more easily wherever her travels take her, as one with a divine charge to protect the Tesseract.
But the Tesseract is not here. Something else is, however, and after a moment, she slowly makes her way through the crowd, inching closer to the stage. Up there, a human is showing off some sort of flying vessel of his creation. She frowns, wondering if it's dwarven-made, and how in the Realms could that have happened without the Tesseract. Or at least she wonders up until an explosion sends the car falling back to the stage. Very anticlimactic.
"Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology," she repeats under her breath after the inventor, her eyes trailing up to the letters on the stage. Stark Industries. Well, that must be the man's—
A boy knocks her a step back as he hurries past. He apologizes, but he's so harmless and scrawny that she can't believe he'd done it with any malice, and so she waves him off. She turns back to the stage to see what else might be next and why her instincts had led her here, only to lock gazes with a blue-eyed man in some sort of uniform.
Suddenly she can't breathe. She knows someone with those eyes, but he couldn't possibly be here. She'd left him for dead that night she'd fled with the Tesseract.
Bucky's determined to enjoy his last night until only God knows when the war effort would be over and he'll be able to come back home. The fair's something that they can walk around for a while, have some fun - chat up a dame or two, knowing him - and it'll help get any of those nerves that come along with knowing you're headed off to war first thing in the morning, from getting the better of him. And the worry that his best friend is gonna do something stupid while he's gone.
The display, even if it ultimately fails is an impressive one because it's like nothing he's ever seen before. He's sure it's the kind of thing that might be close to things he's read about in the dime novels he likes to pick up when he can ( when he's got a little extra to spend, something that ain't going to a date or something else to impress a girl ), but it impresses him and leaves him in awe for a moment.
"Holy cow," he mutters but realizes, that might not be about the failed attempt at the flying car but instead the woman his eyes end up locking onto. There's a brief moment where he thinks he's glad he didn't set up a double date for his last night, because it frees him up to stare at this woman. Then he wonders how long it's been and if the way he's staring is gonna lose its charm all of a sudden. It also means he's lost track of Steve and isn't running off after him, either.
It's not like the crowd is sparse, but as he comes in closer to this woman and speaks to her, all the other noise around them becomes unimportant.
"It sounds like something outta a science fiction novel, am I right?" He's saying as he glances from her then to the stage and back. He's talking about what they just saw without realizing he's making a remark on something else entirely. He gives her a smile after, already working on that charm of his to keep her from walking away.
He takes a step toward her, and the illusion, or whatever had washed over her, breaks. It's a different man, with eyes that remind her now of the blue of the Tesseract. She has half a mind to leave; she's not supposed to be mingling with the locals like this. She's supposed to be a ghost, her sole purpose the recovery and protection of the Tesseract. But why can't she look away from him?
Especially when he throws a smile her way. Disarmed, she barely realizes after the deed is done that she's smiled back at him too, a matching grin to his charming one. She doesn't even know what he's talking about, exactly. Science fiction? "Was there anything more before?" she asks instead, in English but with a clipped accent that sounds like Russian or German. "I just arrived." After a beat, she feels compelled to add, "From out of town."
While she won't see it, Bucky feels relief when she smiles and speaks to him, since while it's not like he's never struck out ( it's happened at least a time or two ) he'd hate that to be how he spends his last night before he ships out. He'll take talking to a beautiful dame over having to think about how he's heading off to war in the morning.
"I dunno, I kinda just got here myself. Not from outta town, but to the fair," he explains as he nods a bit to say yes, of course that makes sense. Her accent is different - she sure as hell doesn't sound like she's from New York, from Brooklyn no less. "Where're you from? Your accent sounds like you're a long way from home." She brought it up, being from out of town, he might as well go a bit further with it.
"I'm James," a beat, barely even half a second as he huffs out a quick laugh, "Bucky. Most people call me Bucky." His family might call him variations of James at times ( Jimmy, Jamie ) it's Bucky that's stuck ever since Steve became his best friend. Just like it'll follow him overseas and he might as well just accept it.
Sounds like you're a long way from home. Ha. He has no idea.
"Tønsberg, in Norway." It's not a lie. Though it's not the whole truth, either. Not that she intends on revealing that information to him — or anyone else, for that matter. Still, it would be good to see if word has spread about what happened back there. He looks sharp, like he belongs to some kind of military order. Maybe he'll have something.
"Bucky," she repeats as he laughs, and she can't help feeling like wanting to laugh now too. "I'm Hel." Distracted, it takes her a second to realize that she probably shouldn't be using that name, if only because she doesn't want to get linked back to the stories the people of Tønsberg had come up with in the many years she'd been asleep. It's better if nobody thinks about looking at her (and her background) too closely. "Helena," she quickly adds. There, now at least 'Hel' sounds like a nickname.
There's a low whistle at her answer as his eyebrows jump a little at how far away from home she is. That makes sense now, where her accent is from. "Yeah, you're a long way from home," he says in an amused tone, the warmth in it evident the moment it comes out. He's only put in the time it takes for him to become a sergeant in the army, so he hasn't become beaten down by the war yet - that's for his days starting with tomorrow - so it's easy for him to be like this with a complete stranger. "I'm headed outta town myself tomorrow morning. England. Not as far as where you're from, but still pretty far. Guess where you were probably looking to get away from the war, I'm getting thrown into it."
Other than knowing that Norway was occupied, he can't say he knows anything about what's happening where she's from outside of what he's heading overseas for as it is. The war. He doesn't think there's anything suspicious or out of the norm in what she's said so far, since he can see why someone would wanna get away from all of that.
"Nice to meet you, Hel." He throws on a wink at the end, forgetting all about how he's supposed to be keeping track of Steve - he hasn't even realized that his friend hightailed it out of there before he took notice of Hel in the first place. "Bein' from out of town and all, you don't have a chaperone hanging around here, do you?" It's his way of asking if she has a date, if there's someone who's arm she's supposed to be on because he might be trying to get her on his for the rest of the evening. He can walk her around the rest of the fair or take her dancing, to make sure he's not letting his last night of freedom go to waste.
Thankfully he does the talking, because she hasn't fully grasped Midgardian geography yet, only following the trail of magic left by the Tesseract — even if it meant crossing an entire ocean into a dead end. But he does confirm that he's involved in the war, and that piques her interest a bit more. At least she has a lead now.
Not that she isn't already interested in him. When he throws in that wink, she just thinks it's cute, and when he asks about her chaperone, she gets a sense of what he's really asking. While she still has the mission at the back of her head and the ghosts of her pasts... oh, what the hell. She hasn't had any fun in years. What's one night?
"Unfortunately not. Or should I say... fortunately not?" She didn't think it would be possible for her to slip back into her old, playful self, not after everything she's been through, but her lips lift easily and her eyes gleam knowingly. "You look like you could use some fun on your last night." And she knows she's a lot of fun. She always has been. The darling of the court, the realm's favorite princess.
A girl and a black dog materialize in the middle of the street, heralded only by sparks of light. The dog is disoriented, the girl more so; it's been a long time since she's traveled by portal, and it's not to a place she's ever been to before, so she's not sure if her attempt has even worked. That, and she'd already failed several times, each landing the pair of them in a different part of the Ironwoods, though progressively further away from her initial location.
There's a screech and the furious honking of a car. Her eyes open and she stumbles back, though she lunges forward a moment later to put her arms around the dog, catching him before he launches himself at the car. The driver is swearing, yelling at them, and she's considering turning him into a squirrel or something just as small if not for the dog's incessant barking. Above anything else, she'd hate to be noticed. Even if she's already glamoured herself to hide the ugly parts of her, it feels like the people around her are staring at her.
There are so many people.
"Sorry, so sorry!" Hel mumbles, backing into the sidewalk, where there are more people. Inside the buildings, walking along the streets. Damn it, maybe they should go back. But how? They're clearly out of the woods now, and she's not even sure she knows the way back. Not when the shop sign in front of her is exactly as she remembers from that picture: The Meatball.
She pulls out her phone to double check. Yeah, they're in the right place. Garmr starts to whine, also caught off-guard by their unfamiliar surroundings, and she sits down on the pavement next to him. Still feeling that people are staring, she pulls up her hood in a futile effort to hide her face, then texts Bucky:
No reason to get mad. I don't have a whole lot goin' on right now anyway.
Do me a favor and stay as close to that building as possible, alright? I'll come and find you.
It's not like the picture he took was a long walk from his place and it was only a few minutes away because it initially was about finding a place that didn't seem too busy and was still public. He's en route to the location after he sends that second text, not waiting for a reply from her because he hopes she'll trust him enough to stay put and not go anywhere.
He won't touch the fact he's looking for someone he only just met to trust him enough for that, because that's probably some kind of discovery his shrink would comment on and he's not interested in that line of thinking right now.
In being back in society in a much more open way than he was back when he was on the run, he's gotten a little more used to the crowds that he once felt at home in. New York wasn't a place that slowed down over the decades and the crowds of people only serve as a test of skills he can't help but keep fine tuned even if he's a civilian and not a soldier or a weapon anymore.
He's scanning through the people as he gets closer to the spot from the picture he sent to her, ready to curse that maybe she used up all the trust she had to extend to him in her travel here when his eyes land on something. He doesn't waste time with his strides over, because maybe he recognizes something in that need to be as hidden as possible.
"I'm hopin' it wasn't too hard to find the place." He's doing a bit of a teasing once he approaches and extends his flesh hand forward, his palm facing out for her dog with her to know he's not a threat. "You don't look like a Maiden of Hell, for what it's worth."
Well, sitting on the pavement right across the building should be close enough. She pockets her phone and reaches an arm out to tuck Garmr into her side so he doesn't wander off or bark at the people. Even then, and with the hood of her jacket pulled over her head as far as she can make it go, people still slow when they pass by. She's not sure if it's because she looks like a homeless person just sitting there like that, or if it's Garmr's size.
A few stop to try to talk to her, asking if she's lost. She shakes her head at all of them, with Garmr growling at them when they don't leave her alone after that.
She almost, almost just decides to start finding their way back when a man addresses her with a familiarity that couldn't come from a complete stranger. She lifts her head to find a normal-looking human standing over them — but a handsome one, with pretty blue eyes. Her cheeks grow hot as the thought occurs to her, along with the realization that, well, this is Bucky.
Garmr, picking up that she doesn't think the human is a threat, only sniffs Bucky's open palm.
Hel pushes herself to her feet, barely coming up to his shoulder. She's half-Jotun, yes, but because of the circumstances of her birth, she's small and frail, more human in countenance than the others in her family. She averts her eyes at his comment on her appearance, waving a hand to indicate the disfigured side of her face, which now looks completely normal. "Magic," she murmurs, uncharacteristically shy. "Hi, Bucky."
Without knowing that she's small and frail compared to others in her family, Bucky only sees this as her looking like a fair amount of people when they're next to him. He's tall, broad shouldered, gives off hard stares most often, is typically quiet and has a vibranium arm. It's when he covers up his arm and hides his hands behind gloves, all the while making a point to blend in, that he looks his most normal around everyone else.
The corners of his lips tick upward just a smidge, not a full blown smile or a dazzling grin but something pleasant if momentarily lapsing into apologetic. He should have offered his other hand ( the vibranium one ) out to help her up, because that would have been the right thing to do and he realizes that a moment too late. He was too busy trying to make sure that her dog realized he didn't mean any harm to Hel and let him approach.
"Magic or not, you don't look scary." He does bring his attention back to Garmr a moment later, because he notices his hand hasn't been bitten off. "Guess I don't smell like steak to him." He's keeping an eye on the people passing on the street out of his peripheral, something that he can't help doing despite not really needing to keep an eye out for threats like that and this being their first meeting in person. "Hi, Hel."
There's a quick glance behind them, as he's trying to make sure there would be a clear path for them to make their way away from the building and he'll make sure to lead her through the people walking through the streets, keep her protected.
"You gotta have a minute or something? I know you just got here..." He's asking because while they've planned a road trip to the Smithsonian, he's only gone through a portal a sum total of once and didn't get to think too much about it because a battle was going on at the time. He has no idea what that kind of travel is like.
"You didn't forget not to shower in steak," she says with a nod and a knowing smile. He'll find that she's great at paying attention, especially when it comes to matters pertaining to people who are important to her. They might not have known each other for long, but he's pretty much her first friend outside of the woods, which kind of already puts him in that 'important' category.
Garmr seems to have decided that he likes Bucky too, because the dog plops himself down in front of the man, practically sitting on his feet. Seeing that, she laughs. "Look at that, he likes you." So does she, but she's not going to ruin a platonic outing by being weird. Thankfully, Garmr knows just how to break the ice.
She glances uneasily around them. It's not fear he'll find on her face though, just discomfort. Which is reinforced when she tugs at her hood again, as if she can pull it further down over her face. "I'm alright from the portaling, if that's what you're asking." They almost got run over, sure, and people have been staring, but it could've been much worse. At least no one's actually injured. "I don't have the snacks and the books with me, though. I was just trying to practice for tomorrow and..." She smiles sheepishly. "Surprise?"
did somebody order a zombie apocalypse with a slice of hurt/comfort and only one bed?
It wasn't his fault that he had a gun pointed to his face, really. The house did look like it had been abandoned long before the outbreak, with a garden that had spiraled so out of control it had prevented the dwelling behind it from being noticed.
Until now, anyway.
He was the first person they'd seen in a good while. And she would've left him to his fate if not for the pleading of the boy she'd taken in. "He's hurt, Mom," the boy had whispered, peering through the cracks in the planks of wood they'd used to barricade the windows. "We have to help him."
They didn't have to, and since the boy had latched on to her and decided to call her Mother, she could've enforced that authority and refused. But the boy's eyes bored through her, reminding her that she was living a borrowed life, and making her realize that the little one had more heart left in him than she did, for he was willing to risk his own life to help others. Damn it.
She knew her gun was no match for the newcomer, but she held it to his face with both hands when she opened the door and stepped out into the porch. She recognized him, of course. Who didn't? He'd been all over the news in the months leading up to the outbreak, running around with the new Captain America.
"You're not infected?" She had to ask. Because that was where the outbreak had started: among the super soldiers.
HAHAHA NOT ME COMING TO THIS LIKE FIVE??? MONTHS LATER
When Bucky came limping up to the modest house that had a garden so overgrown it looked like it had been left abandoned and untouched for longer than a few months, he thought he was approaching...salvation. A place to rest, at least. Somewhere off the beaten path, away from others and unlikely to be found in the immediate future by the infected. If there was another name for 'em than that, he didn't know it and didn't care. They were people like him once, they were poor schmucks who got themselves injected with a serum be it willingly or forced on them - becoming weapons or test subjects, sometimes both - and had their humanity stripped away as they slowly became something more, something different. Something more than just a super soldier.
There's a gash across his forehead and a split along his lip, a deep wound along his leg - that explains the limp - and he can feel the heaviness within his bones, the deep seated need to stop because if he doesn't he'll push himself too far and his feet will come out from under him.
Even with that air of unending tired radiating through him, he doesn't flinch when she's pointing the gun at him, even if those piercing blue eyes of his are briefly flicking from the blonde holding the gun, to the young boy at her side. From what he can tell - and from her question - they're not infected either although he knows the infection isn't instant. And the outbreak ain't just solely within super soldiers ( even if it started there ), because people without any type of serum running through their veins had begun to change too.
"Do I look like I'm infected to you? I've seen some better days, but we wouldn't be talking here, if I were," he replies in that sardonic tone of his, before bringing his hand out to move the gun away - with half a mind to disarm her, to take it for himself - because while the gun doesn't unnerve him, not knowing if she's a hairpin trigger and he's moments away from having to dodge a bullet in the middle of his skull does. "If you were gonna shoot me, you'd done it already."
He lets that lie there for a few long moments and then he's trying his luck with taking a step forward because he doesn't have time for this. He needs to find a first aid kit and something quick to eat. Once he stitches himself up and grabs a few provisions, he can be on his way and find somewhere else along this path to stay. This might be the first place he's seen in a long while, but he's made it this long in his life - he might be able to wait it out to find somewhere else to hole up for a while.
i couldn't find an appropriate meme toplevel sooooo
[ Ashes blossom on the battlefield, and for a second, her heart stops. It's Wakanda all over again... until she realizes it's not her but her opponent that's crumbling into ash.
She's shaking from exhaustion. Her left forearm is still strapped to her broken shield, if only because she'd used the belts as a torniquet to stop the bleeding. She limps forward anyway, straining to see through the smoke and the damage and the bodies. She'll run through her list, make sure everyone on the team's accounted for. But she has to find him first. ]
Bucky! Anyone seen Bucky? [ He'd arrived with Sam, she was sure of it, but she'd lost track of him during the fight—
Her knees give way, but arms catch her before she crumples. She turns her head and lets out a sound that's half a laugh, half a sigh of relief as he lowers them both to the ground. He'd made it back, and he'd made it out of the fight that shortly followed. He looks like shit, but she probably looks worse. She can feel her injuries now that the adrenaline's wearing off, and she knows they're bad, even with the serum speeding up her healing. ]
Buck, listen. [ She drops Mjolnir to cup his cheek with a grimy, gloved hand. ] There's somethin' I gotta tell you...
[ Three times she'd thought she lost him. Three times he's come back, somehow. Yeah, she'd been an idiot. But this time, he will know he is loved. She doesn't care that he doesn't feel the same way — about himself, or for her. She's loved him since that day in high school, when they'd snuck out to Coney Island, and he'd convinced her to get on that damn rollercoaster with him then held her hair while she threw up into a garbage can afterward. It doesn't feel like she ever got off it. ]
[ He doesn't know how, but after being gone and then suddenly back in a blink of an eye, that battle had been hard but it felt like nothing. It felt like a goddamn dream until he could feel it in every step he took in the aftermath. Stark seems like he had been the biggest loss they might've had - he can't say he knows too many of the Avengers beyond the ones Steph is around the most and anyone who came through the portal from Wakanda - but he is scanning around for faces. Mostly he's looking for the people he's met, even if it's been in passing, because he knows it's what she would do but he's also looking for her.
It's instinct that has him rushing forward to catch her, to keep her from falling on her ass and is ready to launch into a tirade about how she never learns how to back away from a fight or to fall back when there's enough people around to take the burden for her, when he stops because he can tell it's difficult for her to get out words. He's motioning for anyone around, knowing that there's others who are looking for wounded or trying to take stock of anyone who's already dead, even if he's also following the line from her grimy glove down the rest of her arm, to see if it needs anything like the arm she currently has a make-shift tourniquet around. ]
Hey, it can wait, Rogers. I'm not goin' anywhere. [ He puts on an air about him, like he feels even a little bit confident like he would have, in the past. Instead he's worrying that these injuries might be worse than the ones he gave her on that helicarrier years ago now, because he's half ready to just carry her somewhere away from the battlefield and find some first aid in what was left of whatever the hell this place was. ] I think they got rid of all that shit in my head and from what I can tell, no one's left from that purple guy's army. We've got time.
You're back. [ That's what she fixates on. Not that they've won, not how exhausted she is, not the damage or the casualties. She drops her hand from his cheek to draw him into a hug, as tight as her injured body would allow. At first it seems like she's holding on to him because she's hurt, but what he initially mistakes for a cry of pain is actually a sob tearing from her throat. ] You were gone, for five years. I... I thought I'd lost you for good...
[ She'd mourned him, again, and still it hadn't been easy for her to accept. For all she talked about moving on to those attending her support group meetings in those dark years since, she was the one who couldn't. It wasn't just about failing the world — the universe — either. A huge part of it was him, because he was finally getting better, finally finding his peace... but she'd brought the fight to Wakanda, and even if she hadn't, the Snap would've taken him anyway. Why couldn't it have been her? Why was she, who had been born to die, the one who kept surviving somehow? It wasn't fair.
But now he was back, and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
She pulls back to look him over, as if she wasn't doing worse. A part of her had expected not to survive that fight. She certainly didn't expect Mjolnir to come flying into her hand when she had nothing else to fight with. But none of that mattered compared to having Bucky back. ] You okay? We gotta get you back to... I don't know, the Compound's totaled, maybe—
I'm back. You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm with you 'til the end of the line, remember? [ There's a hint of...something, an emotion that wants to clog his throat up, since there's a worry now, from the way she's talking. He left her worse than this ( he thinks ) when he pulled her up out of that river, but it's possible there might be injuries he hasn't become aware of yet. Maybe in the past five years something's happened with the serum he doesn't know about because he wasn't here and it has him worrying. ] I'm alright. I've had worse.
[ He's talking about losing his arm, waking up to find out he was being held by the enemy he'd been fighting against and his arm had been replaced and the time he lost most of the metal arm to Stark. It might not have been his real arm, but it was something that had become a part of him for long enough and was attached to him, so it may as well been losing something like that all over again.
He's glancing away from her - just for a couple of beats, nothing more - to get an idea of what was left of the Compound, his mouth forming a tight, thin line as he grows contemplative. ]
Doesn't look like there's much to get back to. Some rubble, but that's not gonna give a lot of cover for some medical care. [ He's not thinking of himself in this - he came in during the middle of this fight, he doesn't think he has any reason for someone to take a look at him - because his main focus is on her, on getting her somewhere she can rest and recover. ] Those sorcerers, they might be able to get us a portal out of here.
gen texting continuation — 11/17/2024 — @toomuchred.
"I'll see you in a little bit." is all the response he gives her, taking note of the pin she drops for him and doesn't take long before he's slipping in his ear piece that connects to his phone so he can get the directions to where he's headed on his motorcycle. He's armed, not just with the vibranium arm but with a few knives on his person and a gun, just in case - he didn't ask what she needed back up on, so he decides he should be prepared for anything - in case subduing whoever went and handcuffed her wasn't the answer.
Knowing her, it's someone with connections to the Red Room - by now most of the Widows ( if not all ) have found themselves free from subjugation but there's always someone out there who either slipped through the cracks or are looking to find the connections to bring things back - or someone who's not a fan of the Avengers and their ilk. He knows while she can handle herself, the rest of the Avengers - Steve included - would have dropped what they were doing to be back up if they knew, but she's stuck with him and he doesn't do things the exact same way as the rest of 'em do, even if he's not the kind of guy who kills these days.
He's smart, doesn't drive his motorcycle all the way to the location and cuts the engine just a street away so he can keep a little attention away from him showing up when he does. He's employing stealth as he makes the approach, aware of anyone who might be lingering nearby and not accidentally running into anything as he begins into the building, waiting for the sounds of anything that will tell him where Natasha might be.
His gun is within close reach - he'll prefer to punch his way out if it's needed, the gun would be warning shots and his knives would be to wound, not kill - but no one is jumping out at him yet and he knows better than to call out her name, even if it only takes him another minute before he's exchanging blows with one of the guys on the payroll of whoever it is that Natasha is dealing with and from the sounds of other footfalls, it seems to bring attention to him and hopefully away from her so she can find herself free of those handcuffs sooner, as opposed to later.
They find Zola in the last train car. Unarmed, but waiting for them. That's the unsettling part. Steph doesn't like it one bit. In fact, she's had a bad feeling about this mission even before they'd landed on the train, and it had nothing to do with the drop. (Damn heights. At least she didn't throw up this time.)
"Ah. Miss Rogers."
She levels her sidearm at Zola's face. Bucky comes up from behind her, shield at the ready, but while the scientist greets him with an amused, "Captain," the man's gaze flicks back to Steph right after. She sees Bucky tense, like he's seconds away from launching himself at Zola and beating the shit out of him. She reaches with her free hand to grab his elbow before he can do just that.
"Hands in the air, Doctor," Steph orders, shifting to a two-handed grip on her gun. If their circumstances had been reversed -- if Bucky had been the one taken and experimented on -- she would've beat the living daylights out of the scientist. Alas, they need Zola alive. That was what this whole op was for, not retribution for what had been done to her.
Zola complies. But as he raises his arms, he says... something. Steph doesn't know enough German to understand the words, but it doesn't matter. She suddenly goes rigid. Her eyes turn glassy, her expression blank.
"Ready to comply," she then says in shockingly perfect German, her voice low and unfeeling.
i was feeling some hurt/comfort today sooooo their version of shield au lol
[ It had been a closed casket funeral. There had been no point otherwise, given that they didn't have a body to bury. Steph had given her eulogy with a detached calm, like she was watching the scene unfold from another plane of existence, then she'd trailed after Bucky, who'd angrily limped out of the church.
Steve was laid to rest next to their parents. Or at least what they had of him anyway: a folded up flag, a framed sketch Steph had labored over the past couple of nights. She remains staring at the headstone as people take their leave, nodding absently at those stopping by to offer their condolences; Howard Stark, Becca, Stevie's friends from the Army.
Once they're alone, she takes Bucky's arm and drapes it over her shoulders, then slips her arm around his waist, to help him bear his weight. ]
Come on, let's get you back. It's about to rain, and I gotta make sure you didn't overexert yourself anyway.
[ She'd been by his side from the moment they'd transferred him into the hospital where she worked, and she'd cared for him since, spending her time off in his apartment and doing whatever he'd needed to recover. It helped, having something to do. Or else she'd drown from the grief of losing her brother — the only family she'd had left. ]
[ Unlike a certain Falcon turned Captain America they know, Bucky knows how to have his phone on silent when he’s in the middle of something that has the possibility of going south if the wrong thing is said or done. The last people he spoke to were her and Congressman Gary before he’d rounded up the team of misfits whose team he’s now a part of.
He won’t call himself the leader, he’ll settle for the position of co-leader with Belova even if he’s the one who talked them all into actually taking the fight to Val, to help Bob and not go scattering in different directions to hide.
And he sure as hell doesn’t know how he feels about being called Avenger. It doesn’t feel like something he deserves, even if he’s married to the former Captain America. Being married to one doesn’t mean he’s ever gonna be considered an Avenger to the rest of the world.
ASAP turns out to be closer to about two hours after her last text message - the trip to the others and taking them back to New York, the fight with Sentry, then the void and the press conference and the commotion after is tiring despite his claims he doesn’t get tired - but it does come eventually. ]
Dinner’s gonna be a little late unless we get it from one of the places around the Tower.
[ It’s confirmation of where he’s at, without outright asking if she’s already en route here and they’ll be able to talk about all this shit in person instead. ]
The kind of spot we're gonna have to give a different name to pick it up or they the kind of people that'll keep it quiet?
[ It's worth an ask because while her name doesn't get a lot of grumbling, after everything, there are still people with opinions and now those opinions could come to a head because his name isn't just tied to hers or the name the Avengers but also to de Fontaine now. ]
Le'me know what you want and I'll get us something, it'll be ready when you get here. You think you got any of that Asgardian hooch left laying around the place? We might need it with this talk.
The latter. The former will depend on how bad the situation is.
[ She hadn't had the chance yet to look around social media for the public's opinion. So far, she's only had to field phone calls from their friends. Sam, in particular, had been concerned.
As for the food, well, she'd rather Bucky choose since he needs it more than she does, but she also recognizes that he's stressed enough to likely have some kind of decision paralysis right now. So she makes the call: ] Chinese. Get one of everything in the house special, and two extra orders of prawn toast. Please and thank you. [ He knows which place. ] The booze should be in the studio.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
at the expo, 1943
But the Tesseract is not here. Something else is, however, and after a moment, she slowly makes her way through the crowd, inching closer to the stage. Up there, a human is showing off some sort of flying vessel of his creation. She frowns, wondering if it's dwarven-made, and how in the Realms could that have happened without the Tesseract. Or at least she wonders up until an explosion sends the car falling back to the stage. Very anticlimactic.
"Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology," she repeats under her breath after the inventor, her eyes trailing up to the letters on the stage. Stark Industries. Well, that must be the man's—
A boy knocks her a step back as he hurries past. He apologizes, but he's so harmless and scrawny that she can't believe he'd done it with any malice, and so she waves him off. She turns back to the stage to see what else might be next and why her instincts had led her here, only to lock gazes with a blue-eyed man in some sort of uniform.
Suddenly she can't breathe. She knows someone with those eyes, but he couldn't possibly be here. She'd left him for dead that night she'd fled with the Tesseract.
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The display, even if it ultimately fails is an impressive one because it's like nothing he's ever seen before. He's sure it's the kind of thing that might be close to things he's read about in the dime novels he likes to pick up when he can ( when he's got a little extra to spend, something that ain't going to a date or something else to impress a girl ), but it impresses him and leaves him in awe for a moment.
"Holy cow," he mutters but realizes, that might not be about the failed attempt at the flying car but instead the woman his eyes end up locking onto. There's a brief moment where he thinks he's glad he didn't set up a double date for his last night, because it frees him up to stare at this woman. Then he wonders how long it's been and if the way he's staring is gonna lose its charm all of a sudden. It also means he's lost track of Steve and isn't running off after him, either.
It's not like the crowd is sparse, but as he comes in closer to this woman and speaks to her, all the other noise around them becomes unimportant.
"It sounds like something outta a science fiction novel, am I right?" He's saying as he glances from her then to the stage and back. He's talking about what they just saw without realizing he's making a remark on something else entirely. He gives her a smile after, already working on that charm of his to keep her from walking away.
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Especially when he throws a smile her way. Disarmed, she barely realizes after the deed is done that she's smiled back at him too, a matching grin to his charming one. She doesn't even know what he's talking about, exactly. Science fiction? "Was there anything more before?" she asks instead, in English but with a clipped accent that sounds like Russian or German. "I just arrived." After a beat, she feels compelled to add, "From out of town."
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"I dunno, I kinda just got here myself. Not from outta town, but to the fair," he explains as he nods a bit to say yes, of course that makes sense. Her accent is different - she sure as hell doesn't sound like she's from New York, from Brooklyn no less. "Where're you from? Your accent sounds like you're a long way from home." She brought it up, being from out of town, he might as well go a bit further with it.
"I'm James," a beat, barely even half a second as he huffs out a quick laugh, "Bucky. Most people call me Bucky." His family might call him variations of James at times ( Jimmy, Jamie ) it's Bucky that's stuck ever since Steve became his best friend. Just like it'll follow him overseas and he might as well just accept it.
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"Tønsberg, in Norway." It's not a lie. Though it's not the whole truth, either. Not that she intends on revealing that information to him — or anyone else, for that matter. Still, it would be good to see if word has spread about what happened back there. He looks sharp, like he belongs to some kind of military order. Maybe he'll have something.
"Bucky," she repeats as he laughs, and she can't help feeling like wanting to laugh now too. "I'm Hel." Distracted, it takes her a second to realize that she probably shouldn't be using that name, if only because she doesn't want to get linked back to the stories the people of Tønsberg had come up with in the many years she'd been asleep. It's better if nobody thinks about looking at her (and her background) too closely. "Helena," she quickly adds. There, now at least 'Hel' sounds like a nickname.
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Other than knowing that Norway was occupied, he can't say he knows anything about what's happening where she's from outside of what he's heading overseas for as it is. The war. He doesn't think there's anything suspicious or out of the norm in what she's said so far, since he can see why someone would wanna get away from all of that.
"Nice to meet you, Hel." He throws on a wink at the end, forgetting all about how he's supposed to be keeping track of Steve - he hasn't even realized that his friend hightailed it out of there before he took notice of Hel in the first place. "Bein' from out of town and all, you don't have a chaperone hanging around here, do you?" It's his way of asking if she has a date, if there's someone who's arm she's supposed to be on because he might be trying to get her on his for the rest of the evening. He can walk her around the rest of the fair or take her dancing, to make sure he's not letting his last night of freedom go to waste.
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Not that she isn't already interested in him. When he throws in that wink, she just thinks it's cute, and when he asks about her chaperone, she gets a sense of what he's really asking. While she still has the mission at the back of her head and the ghosts of her pasts... oh, what the hell. She hasn't had any fun in years. What's one night?
"Unfortunately not. Or should I say... fortunately not?" She didn't think it would be possible for her to slip back into her old, playful self, not after everything she's been through, but her lips lift easily and her eyes gleam knowingly. "You look like you could use some fun on your last night." And she knows she's a lot of fun. She always has been. The darling of the court, the realm's favorite princess.
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There's a screech and the furious honking of a car. Her eyes open and she stumbles back, though she lunges forward a moment later to put her arms around the dog, catching him before he launches himself at the car. The driver is swearing, yelling at them, and she's considering turning him into a squirrel or something just as small if not for the dog's incessant barking. Above anything else, she'd hate to be noticed. Even if she's already glamoured herself to hide the ugly parts of her, it feels like the people around her are staring at her.
There are so many people.
"Sorry, so sorry!" Hel mumbles, backing into the sidewalk, where there are more people. Inside the buildings, walking along the streets. Damn it, maybe they should go back. But how? They're clearly out of the woods now, and she's not even sure she knows the way back. Not when the shop sign in front of her is exactly as she remembers from that picture: The Meatball.
She pulls out her phone to double check. Yeah, they're in the right place. Garmr starts to whine, also caught off-guard by their unfamiliar surroundings, and she sits down on the pavement next to him. Still feeling that people are staring, she pulls up her hood in a futile effort to hide her face, then texts Bucky:
Don't be mad. I think we're a day early.
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Do me a favor and stay as close to that building as possible, alright? I'll come and find you.
It's not like the picture he took was a long walk from his place and it was only a few minutes away because it initially was about finding a place that didn't seem too busy and was still public. He's en route to the location after he sends that second text, not waiting for a reply from her because he hopes she'll trust him enough to stay put and not go anywhere.
He won't touch the fact he's looking for someone he only just met to trust him enough for that, because that's probably some kind of discovery his shrink would comment on and he's not interested in that line of thinking right now.
In being back in society in a much more open way than he was back when he was on the run, he's gotten a little more used to the crowds that he once felt at home in. New York wasn't a place that slowed down over the decades and the crowds of people only serve as a test of skills he can't help but keep fine tuned even if he's a civilian and not a soldier or a weapon anymore.
He's scanning through the people as he gets closer to the spot from the picture he sent to her, ready to curse that maybe she used up all the trust she had to extend to him in her travel here when his eyes land on something. He doesn't waste time with his strides over, because maybe he recognizes something in that need to be as hidden as possible.
"I'm hopin' it wasn't too hard to find the place." He's doing a bit of a teasing once he approaches and extends his flesh hand forward, his palm facing out for her dog with her to know he's not a threat. "You don't look like a Maiden of Hell, for what it's worth."
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A few stop to try to talk to her, asking if she's lost. She shakes her head at all of them, with Garmr growling at them when they don't leave her alone after that.
She almost, almost just decides to start finding their way back when a man addresses her with a familiarity that couldn't come from a complete stranger. She lifts her head to find a normal-looking human standing over them — but a handsome one, with pretty blue eyes. Her cheeks grow hot as the thought occurs to her, along with the realization that, well, this is Bucky.
Garmr, picking up that she doesn't think the human is a threat, only sniffs Bucky's open palm.
Hel pushes herself to her feet, barely coming up to his shoulder. She's half-Jotun, yes, but because of the circumstances of her birth, she's small and frail, more human in countenance than the others in her family. She averts her eyes at his comment on her appearance, waving a hand to indicate the disfigured side of her face, which now looks completely normal. "Magic," she murmurs, uncharacteristically shy. "Hi, Bucky."
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The corners of his lips tick upward just a smidge, not a full blown smile or a dazzling grin but something pleasant if momentarily lapsing into apologetic. He should have offered his other hand ( the vibranium one ) out to help her up, because that would have been the right thing to do and he realizes that a moment too late. He was too busy trying to make sure that her dog realized he didn't mean any harm to Hel and let him approach.
"Magic or not, you don't look scary." He does bring his attention back to Garmr a moment later, because he notices his hand hasn't been bitten off. "Guess I don't smell like steak to him." He's keeping an eye on the people passing on the street out of his peripheral, something that he can't help doing despite not really needing to keep an eye out for threats like that and this being their first meeting in person. "Hi, Hel."
There's a quick glance behind them, as he's trying to make sure there would be a clear path for them to make their way away from the building and he'll make sure to lead her through the people walking through the streets, keep her protected.
"You gotta have a minute or something? I know you just got here..." He's asking because while they've planned a road trip to the Smithsonian, he's only gone through a portal a sum total of once and didn't get to think too much about it because a battle was going on at the time. He has no idea what that kind of travel is like.
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Garmr seems to have decided that he likes Bucky too, because the dog plops himself down in front of the man, practically sitting on his feet. Seeing that, she laughs. "Look at that, he likes you." So does she, but she's not going to ruin a platonic outing by being weird. Thankfully, Garmr knows just how to break the ice.
She glances uneasily around them. It's not fear he'll find on her face though, just discomfort. Which is reinforced when she tugs at her hood again, as if she can pull it further down over her face. "I'm alright from the portaling, if that's what you're asking." They almost got run over, sure, and people have been staring, but it could've been much worse. At least no one's actually injured. "I don't have the snacks and the books with me, though. I was just trying to practice for tomorrow and..." She smiles sheepishly. "Surprise?"
did somebody order a zombie apocalypse with a slice of hurt/comfort and only one bed?
Until now, anyway.
He was the first person they'd seen in a good while. And she would've left him to his fate if not for the pleading of the boy she'd taken in. "He's hurt, Mom," the boy had whispered, peering through the cracks in the planks of wood they'd used to barricade the windows. "We have to help him."
They didn't have to, and since the boy had latched on to her and decided to call her Mother, she could've enforced that authority and refused. But the boy's eyes bored through her, reminding her that she was living a borrowed life, and making her realize that the little one had more heart left in him than she did, for he was willing to risk his own life to help others. Damn it.
She knew her gun was no match for the newcomer, but she held it to his face with both hands when she opened the door and stepped out into the porch. She recognized him, of course. Who didn't? He'd been all over the news in the months leading up to the outbreak, running around with the new Captain America.
"You're not infected?" She had to ask. Because that was where the outbreak had started: among the super soldiers.
HAHAHA NOT ME COMING TO THIS LIKE FIVE??? MONTHS LATER
There's a gash across his forehead and a split along his lip, a deep wound along his leg - that explains the limp - and he can feel the heaviness within his bones, the deep seated need to stop because if he doesn't he'll push himself too far and his feet will come out from under him.
Even with that air of unending tired radiating through him, he doesn't flinch when she's pointing the gun at him, even if those piercing blue eyes of his are briefly flicking from the blonde holding the gun, to the young boy at her side. From what he can tell - and from her question - they're not infected either although he knows the infection isn't instant. And the outbreak ain't just solely within super soldiers ( even if it started there ), because people without any type of serum running through their veins had begun to change too.
"Do I look like I'm infected to you? I've seen some better days, but we wouldn't be talking here, if I were," he replies in that sardonic tone of his, before bringing his hand out to move the gun away - with half a mind to disarm her, to take it for himself - because while the gun doesn't unnerve him, not knowing if she's a hairpin trigger and he's moments away from having to dodge a bullet in the middle of his skull does. "If you were gonna shoot me, you'd done it already."
He lets that lie there for a few long moments and then he's trying his luck with taking a step forward because he doesn't have time for this. He needs to find a first aid kit and something quick to eat. Once he stitches himself up and grabs a few provisions, he can be on his way and find somewhere else along this path to stay. This might be the first place he's seen in a long while, but he's made it this long in his life - he might be able to wait it out to find somewhere else to hole up for a while.
i couldn't find an appropriate meme toplevel sooooo
She's shaking from exhaustion. Her left forearm is still strapped to her broken shield, if only because she'd used the belts as a torniquet to stop the bleeding. She limps forward anyway, straining to see through the smoke and the damage and the bodies. She'll run through her list, make sure everyone on the team's accounted for. But she has to find him first. ]
Bucky! Anyone seen Bucky? [ He'd arrived with Sam, she was sure of it, but she'd lost track of him during the fight—
Her knees give way, but arms catch her before she crumples. She turns her head and lets out a sound that's half a laugh, half a sigh of relief as he lowers them both to the ground. He'd made it back, and he'd made it out of the fight that shortly followed. He looks like shit, but she probably looks worse. She can feel her injuries now that the adrenaline's wearing off, and she knows they're bad, even with the serum speeding up her healing. ]
Buck, listen. [ She drops Mjolnir to cup his cheek with a grimy, gloved hand. ] There's somethin' I gotta tell you...
[ Three times she'd thought she lost him. Three times he's come back, somehow. Yeah, she'd been an idiot. But this time, he will know he is loved. She doesn't care that he doesn't feel the same way — about himself, or for her. She's loved him since that day in high school, when they'd snuck out to Coney Island, and he'd convinced her to get on that damn rollercoaster with him then held her hair while she threw up into a garbage can afterward. It doesn't feel like she ever got off it. ]
we make our own space to do things, duh!
It's instinct that has him rushing forward to catch her, to keep her from falling on her ass and is ready to launch into a tirade about how she never learns how to back away from a fight or to fall back when there's enough people around to take the burden for her, when he stops because he can tell it's difficult for her to get out words. He's motioning for anyone around, knowing that there's others who are looking for wounded or trying to take stock of anyone who's already dead, even if he's also following the line from her grimy glove down the rest of her arm, to see if it needs anything like the arm she currently has a make-shift tourniquet around. ]
Hey, it can wait, Rogers. I'm not goin' anywhere. [ He puts on an air about him, like he feels even a little bit confident like he would have, in the past. Instead he's worrying that these injuries might be worse than the ones he gave her on that helicarrier years ago now, because he's half ready to just carry her somewhere away from the battlefield and find some first aid in what was left of whatever the hell this place was. ] I think they got rid of all that shit in my head and from what I can tell, no one's left from that purple guy's army. We've got time.
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[ She'd mourned him, again, and still it hadn't been easy for her to accept. For all she talked about moving on to those attending her support group meetings in those dark years since, she was the one who couldn't. It wasn't just about failing the world — the universe — either. A huge part of it was him, because he was finally getting better, finally finding his peace... but she'd brought the fight to Wakanda, and even if she hadn't, the Snap would've taken him anyway. Why couldn't it have been her? Why was she, who had been born to die, the one who kept surviving somehow? It wasn't fair.
But now he was back, and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
She pulls back to look him over, as if she wasn't doing worse. A part of her had expected not to survive that fight. She certainly didn't expect Mjolnir to come flying into her hand when she had nothing else to fight with. But none of that mattered compared to having Bucky back. ] You okay? We gotta get you back to... I don't know, the Compound's totaled, maybe—
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[ He's talking about losing his arm, waking up to find out he was being held by the enemy he'd been fighting against and his arm had been replaced and the time he lost most of the metal arm to Stark. It might not have been his real arm, but it was something that had become a part of him for long enough and was attached to him, so it may as well been losing something like that all over again.
He's glancing away from her - just for a couple of beats, nothing more - to get an idea of what was left of the Compound, his mouth forming a tight, thin line as he grows contemplative. ]
Doesn't look like there's much to get back to. Some rubble, but that's not gonna give a lot of cover for some medical care. [ He's not thinking of himself in this - he came in during the middle of this fight, he doesn't think he has any reason for someone to take a look at him - because his main focus is on her, on getting her somewhere she can rest and recover. ] Those sorcerers, they might be able to get us a portal out of here.
gen texting continuation — 11/17/2024 — @toomuchred.
"I'll see you in a little bit." is all the response he gives her, taking note of the pin she drops for him and doesn't take long before he's slipping in his ear piece that connects to his phone so he can get the directions to where he's headed on his motorcycle. He's armed, not just with the vibranium arm but with a few knives on his person and a gun, just in case - he didn't ask what she needed back up on, so he decides he should be prepared for anything - in case subduing whoever went and handcuffed her wasn't the answer.
Knowing her, it's someone with connections to the Red Room - by now most of the Widows ( if not all ) have found themselves free from subjugation but there's always someone out there who either slipped through the cracks or are looking to find the connections to bring things back - or someone who's not a fan of the Avengers and their ilk. He knows while she can handle herself, the rest of the Avengers - Steve included - would have dropped what they were doing to be back up if they knew, but she's stuck with him and he doesn't do things the exact same way as the rest of 'em do, even if he's not the kind of guy who kills these days.
He's smart, doesn't drive his motorcycle all the way to the location and cuts the engine just a street away so he can keep a little attention away from him showing up when he does. He's employing stealth as he makes the approach, aware of anyone who might be lingering nearby and not accidentally running into anything as he begins into the building, waiting for the sounds of anything that will tell him where Natasha might be.
His gun is within close reach - he'll prefer to punch his way out if it's needed, the gun would be warning shots and his knives would be to wound, not kill - but no one is jumping out at him yet and he knows better than to call out her name, even if it only takes him another minute before he's exchanging blows with one of the guys on the payroll of whoever it is that Natasha is dealing with and from the sounds of other footfalls, it seems to bring attention to him and hopefully away from her so she can find herself free of those handcuffs sooner, as opposed to later.
i had this random idea soooo
"Ah. Miss Rogers."
She levels her sidearm at Zola's face. Bucky comes up from behind her, shield at the ready, but while the scientist greets him with an amused, "Captain," the man's gaze flicks back to Steph right after. She sees Bucky tense, like he's seconds away from launching himself at Zola and beating the shit out of him. She reaches with her free hand to grab his elbow before he can do just that.
"Hands in the air, Doctor," Steph orders, shifting to a two-handed grip on her gun. If their circumstances had been reversed -- if Bucky had been the one taken and experimented on -- she would've beat the living daylights out of the scientist. Alas, they need Zola alive. That was what this whole op was for, not retribution for what had been done to her.
Zola complies. But as he raises his arms, he says... something. Steph doesn't know enough German to understand the words, but it doesn't matter. She suddenly goes rigid. Her eyes turn glassy, her expression blank.
"Ready to comply," she then says in shockingly perfect German, her voice low and unfeeling.
i was feeling some hurt/comfort today sooooo their version of shield au lol
Steve was laid to rest next to their parents. Or at least what they had of him anyway: a folded up flag, a framed sketch Steph had labored over the past couple of nights. She remains staring at the headstone as people take their leave, nodding absently at those stopping by to offer their condolences; Howard Stark, Becca, Stevie's friends from the Army.
Once they're alone, she takes Bucky's arm and drapes it over her shoulders, then slips her arm around his waist, to help him bear his weight. ]
Come on, let's get you back. It's about to rain, and I gotta make sure you didn't overexert yourself anyway.
[ She'd been by his side from the moment they'd transferred him into the hospital where she worked, and she'd cared for him since, spending her time off in his apartment and doing whatever he'd needed to recover. It helped, having something to do. Or else she'd drown from the grief of losing her brother — the only family she'd had left. ]
end part of tbolts, you know what this is
Congressman Gary called, said he couldn't reach you. I told him you were handling things.
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You ARE handling things, right?
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[ Delivery notification for a grocery order, since their account is in his name and card. ]
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What do you want for dinner?
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[ Pic of the progress on her latest art piece. ]
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[ Link to a random TikTok about the latest season of Grey's Anatomy. ]
This show is still on?
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I'm on my way.
Call me ASAP.
Love you.
[ Whatever just went down in New York, it wasn't good. And then that press conference. Fucking de Fontaine. ]
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He won’t call himself the leader, he’ll settle for the position of co-leader with Belova even if he’s the one who talked them all into actually taking the fight to Val, to help Bob and not go scattering in different directions to hide.
And he sure as hell doesn’t know how he feels about being called Avenger. It doesn’t feel like something he deserves, even if he’s married to the former Captain America. Being married to one doesn’t mean he’s ever gonna be considered an Avenger to the rest of the world.
ASAP turns out to be closer to about two hours after her last text message - the trip to the others and taking them back to New York, the fight with Sentry, then the void and the press conference and the commotion after is tiring despite his claims he doesn’t get tired - but it does come eventually. ]
Dinner’s gonna be a little late unless we get it from one of the places around the Tower.
[ It’s confirmation of where he’s at, without outright asking if she’s already en route here and they’ll be able to talk about all this shit in person instead. ]
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[ She used to live in the Tower, after all. ]
But I'm still en route. Stuck for another hour or so on the I-95. [ Where's a damn jet when you need one? ] I can just meet you at the apartment?
[ They kept her apartment in Brooklyn for when he doesn't have to be in DC. ]
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[ It's worth an ask because while her name doesn't get a lot of grumbling, after everything, there are still people with opinions and now those opinions could come to a head because his name isn't just tied to hers or the name the Avengers but also to de Fontaine now. ]
Le'me know what you want and I'll get us something, it'll be ready when you get here. You think you got any of that Asgardian hooch left laying around the place? We might need it with this talk.
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[ She hadn't had the chance yet to look around social media for the public's opinion. So far, she's only had to field phone calls from their friends. Sam, in particular, had been concerned.
As for the food, well, she'd rather Bucky choose since he needs it more than she does, but she also recognizes that he's stressed enough to likely have some kind of decision paralysis right now. So she makes the call: ] Chinese. Get one of everything in the house special, and two extra orders of prawn toast. Please and thank you. [ He knows which place. ] The booze should be in the studio.