Saving the world always seemed to come at a cost. The team had lost limbs and loved ones countless times, constantly having to rebuild themselves both figuratively and literally. Daisy Johnson had always known that one day that price would be her own life and when the day had come, she'd paid it willingly. There had been a chance she could walk away from the battle, a thread of hope they all clung to, but she'd made peace with the possibility that this would be it.
But then it wasn't. The Chronicom fleet had been destroyed and she'd been brought back from a frozen grave in open space — only to find that the intense quakes needed to break apart the ship had left her broken as well. Nearly every bone in her body was fractured and she'd been exposed to a dangerous level of radiation. Simmons had done the best she could with the upgraded tech on the Zephyr, but once they landed on Earth and everyone began to go about their separate ways, a call was made and arrangements set. She'd been in Wakanda not even a day later.
After two weeks, she's finally back on her feet, but she has weeks yet to go before Mack will let her return to SHIELD. Convalescence, they're all calling it, and she'd call it torture if it weren't for the fact that the country that's spent so long hiding from the rest of the world has better wifi than anywhere Daisy's ever been. She never thought she'd be walking around farmland outside a high-tech city, but here she is. Somehow it seems even stranger than fighting time-traveling alien robots had been.
It's not too often he sees someone out where he is. Sure, there are the kids that come down once in a while to pay the mysterious White Wolf a visit. They touch his hair, pinch at his beard when he's sleeping and when he stirs or opens his eyes, they run like hell. But they don't come around much anymore. It's been over almost a year since he decided to put himself back on ice; a decision he made while they figured out how to help him.
Now he's living as close to normal life as he can. There were still good days and bad and memories that made him feel the pain and agonizing torture of being brainwashed again. On those days, he moves further into the trees where they can't hear him. But that day, he's out moving feed to the cows in the pastures. It was the most at peace he's felt in some time.
Bucky catches sight of the woman making her way closer and stops what he's doing to see if it's anyone he knows. And by the time she's there, he can't help but ask.
"I'd ask if you were lost but that doesn't happen around here very often," That was the truth of it in Wakanda. You weren't there unless T'Challa said you could be there. He glances at her one more time before continuing his task.
It's one thing to hear that there are other high-profile enhanced people claiming sanctuary within Wakanda's borders. With King T'Challa's activities a year ago, it makes sense that he would offer his kingdom as a safe place for those who needed it most. But to actually come face to face with one of those people...
If this meeting had happened even just a few months ago, she might have fallen back into her old fangirl ways, barely able to contain her excitement at meeting the Bucky Barnes. She'd done a deep dive into all things Avengers after the Battle of New York, after all. Now, though—
"I might need help finding my way back, but right now I'm where I want to be," she answers, continuing her slow approach toward him. The choice of a long walk hadn't just been to see the area — she's trying to build up her strength again. Adjusting the backpack on her shoulder, she feels very out of place in her decidedly American jeans and t-shirt. "Could you use some help with that?"
Bucky stops and looks at her before giving a slight bob of his head. His face will neither confirm nor deny helping her get back to the city, though when the time comes, he absolutely will. At least to the ridge where one can see all of Wakanda and the paths back to it.
"I don't know if you want to be right here," he steps back and lowers to grab another satchel of feed with his only hand and moves it over to rest against a large metal trough. "The way these cows say thanks is by letting it loose if you get what I mean."
She will need to watch where she steps.
He reaches his hand back and pulls out a hunting knife before slicing the top open. As he grabs the bottom and heaves it over the side, Bucky looks at her again.
Okay, that gets a smile from her, and even a quiet laugh. It feels good to laugh, even if it's nothing like what she used to experience. She has every reason to celebrate their victory, to take joy and pride in helping to save the world yet again, but when it comes down to it, she just can't shake the lingering threads of trauma that cling to her like spiderwebs.
Stopping a few yards from where he's working, she nods with an open expression. "I am," she confirms. "But I'm here for medical. Getting to meet an old timer like you is just a bonus."
One she hadn't expected but that she's suddenly grateful for. He'd gotten the worst deal of any of them and she can't help but wonder if there's some way she can help him.
The bag empties and Bucky's shoulders lift in a silent laugh, though the smile on his lips is a good indication that he doesn't take the ribbing too seriously. He was old and very tired, even despite looking like he was still in his early 30's. There were still some days where he did nothing but sleep in his hut. But there were also days when he'd wished for a little more to do; to be useful in some way.
"Ah, makes sense now," Bucky glances her way before grabbing another bag of feed. "Princess Shuri sent you down here, didn't she?"
She always sent people down there to see him. Even Okoye from time to time. No, Daisy didn't have to answer that. He'd have a hard time believing her if she did say no.
The smile looks good on him. Instantly, a few dozens years seem to drop away, even if only for a few moments. Maybe that's what she can do for him while she's here — help him smile a little more. It's worth a shot, anyway.
Crossing her arms casually, Daisy puts on a very unconvincing Spy Face and informs him, "I can neither confirm nor deny who sent me."
But yes, it had absolutely been Shuri who had suggested she head in this particular direction. There had been a nagging suspicion in Daisy's mind that there was a reason for the suggestion but she'd written it off because she trusted the princess. That stance might need slight reevaluation later.
The slightly comical Spy Face drops away as she answers his second question, though. In a deliberately nonchalant way, she shrugs and explains in far too simple terms, "I kinda blew up a spaceship while I was still inside it."
Bucky's lips twitch and he's nodding in a way that clearly conveys that the Spy Face is very unconvincing. He'll be sure to call Shuri on it, too, the next time he has to go in for another evaluation and some testing. It was a small price to pay for the sanctuary that he was able to have. It took the worry of being hunted off his mind.
A brow shoots up. "How the hell did you do that?" he asks, dropping the next bag against the metal bin. He stands straight and looks at her. There's no disbelief. He's not a man to underestimate anyone, let alone a petite gal like her. She works for SHIELD. They don't train agents to be passive heroes.
It's very hard not to laugh at that question — it isn't the first time she's been asked that since arriving in Wakanda. Shuri herself had been the first to pose it when Daisy had been wheeled off the Zephyr.
A slightly smug smile crosses her face as she tilts her head to the side and oh so casually answers, "With my superpower." As if that's a completely normal explanation for such an abnormal feat. But then the smile fades and she looks down at her shoes, the boots a bit dirty from the walk but thankfully not caked in cow droppings. She makes a show of lifting checking so she has an excuse not to watch his reaction as she adds, "I'm an Inhuman."
Daisy Johnson is used to people hating her for what she is, whether that hatred is earned or not. She isn't ashamed of being an Inhuman, she takes real pride in it and tries to instill that pride in others as well. Somehow, though, knowing the opinion of one Bucky Barnes on this matter is a truly terrifying prospect. She's suddenly understanding why they say you shouldn't meet your heroes.
The admission gets a quiet lift of his chin and a deep sound of understanding; the type of reaction one would have for reminding of an everyday trivial fact. Not that he wasn't a little more interested. He had heard the term being used before, knowing at least the basics of the people who are termed as such. But with his own problems, Bucky hadn't the time or attention to be letting his focus stray beyond his own recovery.
He's about to cut the top of the next bag when he stops and looks at her, quietly regarding the woman and feeling something different. Something he didn't expect -- not with someone he barely knows.
It was a connection.
"And what does that mean beyond you've got a superpower?" Bucky was very serious with his question, especially since once she admitted it, the bottom of her boot was more important. Why was she worried about his reaction? "I've got a metal arm. Doesn't.."
He pauses, suddenly not so sure he believes the words himself. So, why try to convince someone else of them in their own case. Another moment passes and finally, he goes for it anyway since he's not sure if she was the type to press, albeit in a lower voice.
It's not the reaction she was expecting, but it is one she'd been hoping for. Deep down, she'd been hoping so desperately that he would turn out to still be some semblance of the man she'd read about, the man Coulson had talked about so many times in all his history lessons. Then, with just a handful of words, he proves without a doubt that he is still that man, and it means the world to her.
Taking a deep breath, she nods her head, looking up from the ground to give him a small, grateful smile. "You're right, it doesn't." She shrugs off her backpack then, setting it down on a clear patch of ground. "A lot of people think it does. I've been called an abomination and a weapon of mass destruction. I've had death threats thrown at me and been refused service in more places than I can count. But..."
Lifting one of her hands palm-up in a meaningless gesture as she works her way through what she wants to say, she finally tells him, "Being an Inhuman — it's what I am, and it is a big part of who I am because those experiences have shaped me. But it's not all of me."
And then, because she wants it to be very clear where she stands on the matter, she takes two steps closer to him and addresses the issue head-on. "I think the same thing is true about you and what you've been through."
He can see that his reaction is a bit of a surprise to her and he's oddly satisfied that it was. At least he is until he realizes she's using his words against him even though he knows his brain is already trying to find fault in her statement. He understands that their stories are probably not so different, but rationalizing that isn't an easy thing to do when someone's List of Bad Things I've Done seems to go on and on and on and span 50 plus years. Still, it's the fact she feels sure enough to say so that forces him to not protest and just listen.
Bucky pauses for a long moment, the struggle in his head evident by his body language; his step back and his eyes casting off before he turns fully to fetch another bag of feed all classic signs of avoidance. Almost as if he feels that he can't see himself any other way than the monster he is because he deserves the agony of knowing that.
And yet, he's still there and very present in the conversation.
"Then you also know it's not an easy thing to make yourself believe that."
His reaction to her words makes her heart break. She might only know pieces of what he's been through, fragments constructing the outline of the puzzle but still so much missing, but she knows that he deserves every bit of help the world can give him. But, since world leaders have decided to shove their heads up their collective asses, it's been left to the people of Wakanda to do what they can for this slightly broken hero.
And her. Some part of Daisy wonders if Shuri knew this would happen when she sent her this way.
"Yeah, I do," she confirms with a nod, already settled on the decision to drop this particular topic. For now. So, a change of subject is in order. "My name's Daisy. In case you were wondering."
Is that a little bit of flirting in there? Agent Johnson, what are you doing...
He's been told to expect more bad days than good for the first little while. It's still a reprieve, no matter how off-kilter the day to trauma episode ratio manages to swing. But, it's going on 13 months and things have been good. Bucky really feels he's making progress until Shuri requests him back at Mount Bashenga.
Removing HYDRA's program was proving to be a bit more difficult and after some stress tests, that progress was knocked back several steps leaving Bucky feeling angry and erratic and unstable. Enough that they had to subdue him and put him in a room and let the episode lose its momentum naturally; he had the tools necessary to do that but he had to take control of his own mind for them to work.
Only it was looking as if he couldn't get through it on his own.
Shuri considers who to call, knowing that someone will need to pull him out and after some thought and realizing Steve Rogers was too far in hiding to be able to help, she remembers someone else who helped the soldier more than she likely expected.
When Daisy hears that Bucky Barnes needs her help, she drops everything to go to him. Literally. Her tablet with a handful of half-written SHIELD reports had been haphazardly discarded as she hurried to leave the little apartment she'd been staying in while finishing her recovery.
Worry ate at her the entire way to Mount Bashenga, even minute feeling like an hour. The handful of conversations she's had with Bucky during her time in Wakanda have endeared the man even further to her, opening something in her heart she'd worried was closed off forever. After everything he's been through, the broken hero deserves nothing but a little peace in which to get his bearings, but goddamn HYDRA keeps rearing another head to attack him, even if it's just in his mind. She knows better than anyone how that can be the most dangerous battleground.
She doesn't hesitate to inform Shuri that she's going into that room; there's no consideration whatsoever of there even being other options. Bucky's in there, so she's going in too. And she can handle whatever he throws at her because that's what he needs right now.
Without his arm, he poses no real physical threat to anyone and that was very much something Bucky wanted in place as soon as they took him out of were still there, even if the words that activated the Winter Soldier weren't. Now after over a year, he's not sure he'll ever be rid of HYDRA.
Shuri leads Daisy towards a door and when she opens it she listens, then lets out a sound of relief as she nods vaguely in the direction of where the agent will find him. "Just be careful, Agent Johnson. I would not have called you had I felt you could not help him out of this. But I cannot be sure who you will get in there."
An agonizing cry bellows down the hall, one that seems to convey his pain in an almost palpable way. It's only when Daisy sees him that she might understand how horribly stuck he had to feel to be pressed into a corner of the room, a bloody hand holding the side of his head while fingers tangle in dark hair; his face twisted and contorted in silent suffering.
The closer Daisy gets, she will hear him mumbling over and over as his breathing becomes more laboured and irregular.
"Just get out of my head.. get out of my head... get out of my head... I need to get out of my head..."
Shuri's warning is noted with a nod but Daisy still moves inside without a second thought. Even when she hears that cry, it only serves to make her walk faster, adrenaline racing through her. It kills her to hear him like that, remembering all too well her own struggles, and seeing him...
Seeing him breaks something in her that might never be repaired. It's one thing to know what HYDRA had done to him — seeing the way those monsters still affect him makes her wish she could kill Gideon Malick all over again. Him and all the others who had ever played a part in doing this to an innocent man.
When she's close enough to feel his heart beating in his chest, she stills, both hands held out and open at her sides. Keeping her expression calm and even takes every bit of her training. She pitches her voice low, careful, approaching him the way you would a wounded animal since she can't know which way his instincts will fall.
The world is different now. Even moreso than in the days after the Battle of New York, everything feels like it's changed. Irreparably so in some cases. The governments of the world are struggling, forming coalitions and offices to deal with these changes, and all of it seems to be going pretty damn horribly.
One small benefit of the Earth being too caught up in its own problems, at least, is that no one seems to be paying much attention to what SHIELD is doing. They've been able to ramp up their recruitment, finding the best new faces to fill their own newly established offices and teams to deal with the threats that are still out there in the universe.
It's those efforts that give Daisy the idea that nags at her for weeks, especially as she looks more into the situation and becomes increasingly concerned at the possibilities. But when she talks to Mack about it, he supports her, giving her the official Director's stamp of approval.
Which is why she's sitting in a coffee shop in New York City, plenty of people around but not so many that it feels crowded. It's comfortable, the table tucked against the wall between two doors, two cups of steaming coffee waiting to be enjoyed. She just hopes she won't be drinking them both.
The invitation left in his mailbox had been clear. Handwritten in her slightly sloppy script and paperclipped to the top of a folder filled with files, she had an offer to make that would be best given in person. By way of introduction, she'd given him a copy of most of her SHIELD file, with some of the more interesting mission reports included. When she'd learned she was Inhuman, the battle with Hive, Aida and the Framework, traveling to the future and then to the past... And there were scans of newspaper articles as well, all from her time as Quake when she'd been a vigilante and on the run.
It wasn't the normal way of asking someone out for coffee, but since when did normal play any part in their lives?
Generally, meetings with people he doesn't know are advised against by the very people who want to make sure he doesn't fall back into old ways. They track him closely, watching every move he makes. His therapy appointments are monitored and the only time they seem to look the other way is when he is handing over whatever HYDRA stragglers are left to the appropriate government officials.
So, when the note and file are slid under his door early in the day, he can't help but wonder why the hell he's being set up. This was obviously a test and Bucky isn't interested in being locked up on the Raft because he broke some condition that was in the fine print. The folder is promptly tossed and left there until later in the afternoon when he goes back and retrieves it.
For a good hour, he looks over the various documents and reports and something compels him to consider it even though he knows it might end poorly for him. But he looks at the note attached to the front and decides he has nothing really left to lose.
When he shows up, he's wearing a baseball cap, hoodie and leather jacket, his typical look when he's trying not to purposely give himself away. Still, he lingers, watching her through the window to make sure this wasn't some kind of takedown. And when he enters the shop, he stops and looks at her suspiciously before making his way to the booth.
He doesn't sit down.
"It's Daisy, right?" he says, knowing full well it's her. Bucky eyes the second cup of coffee and then glances out the window again. "So, what exactly is it you want?"
It's really him. Everyone always says you shouldn't meet your heroes and usually she'd agree with that sentiment, but not this time. Right now, she's so glad he's come to meet her that she can't hide the small smile that grows even as he makes it clear that he's not entirely pleased with the situation at hand. She doesn't blame him — he's been dealt the shittiest hand she's ever seen.
In the hours between dropping off the file and sitting at this table, she'd rehearsed what she might say, weighing a dozen different approaches. It's only now that he's sitting here that she decides to just dive right in, no bullshit runaround.
"To talk," she answers, reaching over to take that second cup of coffee. She takes a sip of it herself before placing it back down in front of him, just in case he's worried she's trying to drug him or something. "I've been... monitoring your situation and, frankly, it sucks. You're basically on house arrest without being stuck in one place. You don't deserve that."
The thought may have crossed his mind, but her file also said she was Inhuman, which he knows very little about besides what was written in. People who claim to have powers tend to list that as a generalization and not bullet point specifics. She included a lot of things in the folder and for all intents and purposes, it got him there. For how long was a matter entirely up to her.
Bucky looks at the coffee, reaches down and moves it to the table beside before sliding into the booth. But before he lets her begin, he waves down the waitress and requests a fresh coffee. Only after one is brought over does he give Daisy his undivided attention.
"Who cares what I deserve. They don't. Why do you?" he replies, his tone definitely defensive and more than a bit skeptical that someone from SHIELD would want to help him. "What's in it for you? A promotion?"
She watches the coffee exchange, glad that it's working in her favor. He's not drinking the one she'd ordered, which she doesn't blame him for, but now she knows that he's planning on hearing her out. That's all she'd needed.
"SHIELD doesn't work like that anymore," she tells him, her words less defensive and more a simple statement of the nature of things. "It wasn't ever supposed to. The agency was founded under the core principle of protection and HYDRA corrupted that. More people should have seen it happening and been able to stop it, but that didn't happen and you suffered as a result."
how come your love's so patient, i kind of feel insane (♫)
A date. A date with Bucky Barnes. Were they actually calling it a date? He'd asked her out, yes, but Daisy has a very strong suspicion that it was at the behest of one Sam Wilson, who seems to have taken it upon himself during each of their joint missions to find some way of pairing her and Bucky together. Not that she minds, of course — he's Bucky freaking Barnes. She just hopes that the evening doesn't turn awkward enough to mess up their working relationship; they work well together, as well as he and Sam seem to. (Though he and Sam don't flirt nearly as much as they do on a regular basis.)
She'd splurged on a new outfit for the occasion. Said occasion being the first date she's been on in seven years. For some reason, most guys just seem to find the idea of going out with Quake to be a little intimidating. Or a lot intimidating once they see her in action. Bucky doesn't though.
Hoping for something when nothing is likely to come of it... Well, she tries to resist, but she finds herself getting nervous as she puts on the finishing touches to her hair and makeup. What if this—
When Sam told him about the date he'd set up for them, Bucky was a little perturbed, which turned into a mild panic the closer they got to the actual day. There was no way out of it and after several pep talks by his best friend and having it pointed out that she was the best person to go with given how well they get along.
He had a point that even Bucky couldn't argue.
The restaurant didn't take him long to get to given it was in Brooklyn and he knows there's a joke behind it given how it was literally less than a 10-minute walk from where he was now living. So, he arrives a few minutes early, dressed in what he'd consider first date (was it a date?) attire and waits nervously at one of the tables beside the wall.
It took a bit longer than 10 minutes to get to Brooklyn from SHIELD HQ, but Daisy doesn't mind. She takes the subway rather than call a cab or use a 'company' car, enjoying the solitude among the masses. With her hair curled, earbuds in, and sunglasses on, she even manages some anonymity in the crowd and gets to skip the usual round of recognition and requests for photos.
She'd never planned on being a superhero, complete with action figures and posters on kids' walls, but her life never really had gone according to plan.
The restaurant isn't hard to find, and, when she catches sight of it, she's impressed. Her opinion of it rises even higher when she steps inside. It's warm and cozy, intimate without feeling forced. There's an almost rustic feel to it, but in a classy way that feels like old-world chic. And when she sees Bucky waiting there looking like he's ready to launch himself through one of the windows—
Damn if she doesn't find that endearing.
"Hey there, old-timer," she teases affectionately when she reaches the table, a little black purse in one hand into which her sunglasses have disappeared. "You never said you clean up this nice. I think you've been holding out on me."
He wasn't going to tell her that he had to request the aid of someone to help him with what to wear. Going on a date back in the '40s wasn't much different, all in all. But being out of the game for nearly eighty years meant learning about what had changed and fashion was definitely something that had changed.
Bucky gets up and grins, shaking his head. Yes, his cheeks might be a little pink after the compliment he was paid.
"It was a toss-up between this and wearing an argyle sweater with suspenders. You're welcome." he shoots back playfully, waiting for her to sit. Daisy will no doubt be able to tell the kind of gentleman he was back then.
"And look at you..." Bucky looks her over. "You look amazing."
During the time they've worked together, Daisy has gotten a pretty good idea of the type of man Bucky Barnes is. He's been through more pain than anyone should ever have to endure, yet he's still a genuinely good man. She's seen him help people without hesitation, in big ways and small, and there are little gestures here and there that hint at the time he'd grown up in. Having been to both the 1930s and 1950s, she thinks it's clear that he picked up the better parts of the era.
But even knowing that he's still a gentleman at heart, it sets something in her chest fluttering when he stands and waits for her to sit like that. And when he compliments her in return... Well, he's not the only one who's smiling and turning a subtle shade of pink.
"It must be the shower," she replies in her own playful tone, needing something to distract from how flustered she's suddenly feeling. "I should really try that more often. You know I'm usually a huge slob."
(She isn't, at least not in her appearance. Her room at the base, however...)
"It must be," he agrees, giving her a smirk and a nod. Once they are sitting, the server comes by with two wine glasses and a couple of menus as well as a wine list. He does his spiel of the specials and wanders off to give them time to decide.
Of course, it was a little easier when they were out on missions to talk and tease and banter away like the three of them did. That seems to come easier than this and within moments of his last words, he's already trying to figure out where to navigate the conversation.
"I hope you like Italian. I wasn't even sure what I liked and then... " Bucky slides a menu over and opens it up. "It's like the reservation made itself."
Fun fact: This is the first actual date that Daisy Johnson has ever been on. If you didn't count celebratory 2am burgers after a 12-hour hacking session, which had ended in copious amounts of alcohol and some questionable decisions. This is the complete opposite of that, and she can't help but be a bit nervous.
Which is ridiculous. She's faced aliens and killer robots and the end of the world, but sitting in a nice restaurant with a nice guy is what makes her nervous? Get it together, Johnson.
"Just like magic," she comments with a knowing smile. Who knew the new Captain America liked to play matchmaker. "But I do like Italian, yes. A lot. I'm not a picky eater in general, but it's up there on my favorites list."
She picks up the wine list and gives it a comical grimace before exchanging it for a menu. "I will admit that I have no idea what to do with that, though."
Bucky laughs, only slightly awkward. He's pretty sure she knows, but the fact she's not saying anything and is seemingly okay with it, puts him a little more at ease.
"Yeah," he looks at the drink menu. "I guess we're going to be the only ones in here drinking something different. Beer?"
It's getting easier. The atmosphere is helping but Daisy is making things relaxed and normal and without that, he's pretty sure he would have botched the whole thing and took off without a word.
If it had been anyone else behind this arrangement, she might have minded. Daisy is very particular about being in control of her own life. Sam, though — he's a friend, an unexpectedly good one, and that changes everything.
"Oh god yes," she answers with a relieved laugh, glad they won't be bumbling their way through trying to choose a 'proper' wine. "Beer is much more my speed."
She's quiet for a moment, her mind whirring a mile a minute as she tries to settle on a topic, before she finally lowers the menu she'd been pretending to study. "Cards on the table? This is the first date I've ever been on."
It's not something she'd specifically planned on sharing, but she's less worried about possibly being teased for her inexperience than she is concerned that he feels comfortable. He's had to adjust to so much that if she can help in even some small way, she will.
but when i'm half-expecting you to leave, you remind me of what i'd be missing(♫)
[ The storm wasn't supposed to hit for another two hours. They were supposed to be able to secure the stolen intel with plenty of time to spare for evac, even factoring in possible run-ins with the locals. Instead, mother nature decided to screw up all their plans — the blizzard fell upon the city like a predator upon prey, whiteout conditions cutting off their escape route and making it too dangerous for any of the quinjets to come for them.
Thank goodness SHIELD has been rebuilding its network of safe houses. In her time alone, they'd had to scrap their locations at least three times, but they have to assume this one is safe — they don't have any other option. There's too much risk in going to a hotel, all of which are probably overcrowded with stranded travelers anyway, so here they are, wading through the rising snowbanks as they trek what feels like halfway across the city to the row of tall, squished townhouses.
When they finally reach their destination, she can barely feel her fingers, and her feet are more than a little numb as she leads the way up the steps to the front door. It's a triple lock protection to get inside, but it's a relief to finally shut the door against the biting wind. ]
Okay, where's that thermostat... [ She grumbles to herself as she turns away from Bucky, wrapping her arms tight around herself to hopefully hide just how badly she's shivering. Her coat hadn't exactly been blizzard-appropriate, and ever since the incident in space, she hasn't been able to handle the cold as well. But so long as the power doesn't go out and they can get the place nice and toasty, she'll be just fine. ]
[ It's the kind of weather that triggers a bunch of different memories, both good and bad. Missions he's been sent on. A really bad snowstorm in '35 when 18 inches dropped on that forced New Yorkers to stay inside for close to a week. Siberia.
When he fell off the train.
But, there's some ease in knowing that he's not alone this time. Daisy has been something of a grounding point since SHIELD decided to pair them up in between the bigger threat events that most are jaded to believe happen less often than they actually do.
When they get inside, Bucky immediately checks the entire house out of habit. It's a small hunting cabin with one room, and a bathroom the size of a closet with composting toilet and washbasin. There's a make-shift counter with a couple of propane lanterns and a box full of canned food and plenty of dehydrated packets of food to last for weeks.
Over in the main area is a fold-out couch and wood-burning stove with logs stacked up along another wall across from it. He points to it. ]
[ The glare Bucky receives in response to that is one that would stop a dozen SHIELD agents in their tracks. She does not appreciate your sense of humor, old man. ]
You're hilarious. [ Those flat words are muttered (but well within his range of hearing) as she moves toward the stack, walking stiffly from muscles tightened against the onslaught of shivers. After a few moments of staring miserably at the pile, she groans and turns back to him. ]
I'm really hoping you know how to do this because I skipped Fire Making 101 in training. [ Her voice stutters slightly while her jaw trembles. ] And sure, I could probably figure it out, but I might burn the place down before I get there.
[ But he's Bucky Barnes, surely his time in the army taught him a thing or two about survival, right? Hopefully? ]
[ A grin cracks into the corners of his mouth and he knows he should probably tone it down before the next few hours/days don't become unbearable. She was already miserable with being cold, best not to make things worse.
Somehow, he didn't expect her to know, or not being entirely experienced, with starting fires. He wasn't nearly as cold as her. In fact, Bucky was taking off a layer when she approached the idea of him taking over.
Within 10 minutes, the heat began radiating off the stove and five more minutes after that, it was starting to fill the small room quite quickly. As he shoves another log in, he wanders off and finds a couple of sleeping bags. When he emerges again, he's unrolling one for her. ]
[ If he'd kept up with his shenanigans, he might have ended up with a faceful of her fist. Not that a good punch to the nose would have done much to him, supersoldier healing and all, but it would have been satisfying in the moment. Though at this particular moment, she can't even feel her hands, so it's really a moot point.
While Bucky works on the fire, Daisy tries to stay still and fails miserably. She sits on the couch, then stands and leans against the wall. Back to the couch. Up again to stiffly pace. It's not until the room finally starts to warm that she settles properly onto the couch, arms still wrapped around herself. The part of her that hates being cold (which is a very large part, in fact) wants to go stand as close to the stove as she can safely manage, but the more practical side recalls one of Simmons' many warnings about how to safely come back to temp after prolonged exposure to the cold. She can practically hear Jemma in her head, reminding her of the hours after she'd been rescued from space. ]
Starting to. [ She answers with a slight nod, the shivers no longer stuttering her words. But then she frowns and looks up at Bucky in concern. ] Are you doing okay? With all the... everything?
[ He'd spent the better part of a century being frozen again and again. She'd been frozen once (under very different circumstances) and can't begin to imagine what this must be like for him to be so starkly reminded of those horrible times. ]
The verbal confirmation helps, even if he still feels the heaviness of being alone on his darker days. It is a process that he's told will take some time to break free from, but Bucky can't seem to shake the blame and guilt he carries for what he did and the fear of becoming the evil responsible for doing it again.
Moving the next bag of feed to the trough it was going into, Bucky turned his face up to her and offers a smile.
"I was wondering, actually," he says, his tone shifting to something more spirited. "Ever since you walked up this way."
Something about that makes her irrationally happy. Even if she'd only caught his interest because she was a stranger coming into his territory, it was something. She smiles again, and it feels easier this time. Almost normal, even.
"You might also hear people refer to me as Quake," she adds, calling up that playful nonchalance from before. "My powers let me control vibrations. Cause earthquakes, that sort of thing. So if you feel the ground shaking anytime over the next few weeks..." She shrugs. "It's probably just me."
Not that it's likely to come to that but better to offer fair warning. Shuri and T'Challa are well aware of the possibility and have taken precautions, but she doesn't know if something like that might bother Bucky more than the average person.
He's become a lot less acutely aware, that much was true. But that was only because of how safe he felt where he was. Away from people, judgement, government officials and anyone trying to pedal their tech for the sole reason of tracking his every movement. Even if he's still not sure he trusts that the brainwashing has been reversed, the only one he would trust is Shuri's technology.
He glances up as the bag empties and nods before straightening. "Would that be you doing it voluntarily? Or is that why you're here?" Because it isn't voluntary. There's enough in her words that explain that the plane incident and what might have come before it wasn't.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
finding peace in wakanda—
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Now he's living as close to normal life as he can. There were still good days and bad and memories that made him feel the pain and agonizing torture of being brainwashed again. On those days, he moves further into the trees where they can't hear him. But that day, he's out moving feed to the cows in the pastures. It was the most at peace he's felt in some time.
Bucky catches sight of the woman making her way closer and stops what he's doing to see if it's anyone he knows. And by the time she's there, he can't help but ask.
"I'd ask if you were lost but that doesn't happen around here very often," That was the truth of it in Wakanda. You weren't there unless T'Challa said you could be there. He glances at her one more time before continuing his task.
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If this meeting had happened even just a few months ago, she might have fallen back into her old fangirl ways, barely able to contain her excitement at meeting the Bucky Barnes. She'd done a deep dive into all things Avengers after the Battle of New York, after all. Now, though—
"I might need help finding my way back, but right now I'm where I want to be," she answers, continuing her slow approach toward him. The choice of a long walk hadn't just been to see the area — she's trying to build up her strength again. Adjusting the backpack on her shoulder, she feels very out of place in her decidedly American jeans and t-shirt. "Could you use some help with that?"
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"I don't know if you want to be right here," he steps back and lowers to grab another satchel of feed with his only hand and moves it over to rest against a large metal trough. "The way these cows say thanks is by letting it loose if you get what I mean."
She will need to watch where she steps.
He reaches his hand back and pulls out a hunting knife before slicing the top open. As he grabs the bottom and heaves it over the side, Bucky looks at her again.
"You from SHIELD?"
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Stopping a few yards from where he's working, she nods with an open expression. "I am," she confirms. "But I'm here for medical. Getting to meet an old timer like you is just a bonus."
One she hadn't expected but that she's suddenly grateful for. He'd gotten the worst deal of any of them and she can't help but wonder if there's some way she can help him.
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"Ah, makes sense now," Bucky glances her way before grabbing another bag of feed. "Princess Shuri sent you down here, didn't she?"
She always sent people down there to see him. Even Okoye from time to time. No, Daisy didn't have to answer that. He'd have a hard time believing her if she did say no.
"Medical, hm? What happened?"
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Crossing her arms casually, Daisy puts on a very unconvincing Spy Face and informs him, "I can neither confirm nor deny who sent me."
But yes, it had absolutely been Shuri who had suggested she head in this particular direction. There had been a nagging suspicion in Daisy's mind that there was a reason for the suggestion but she'd written it off because she trusted the princess. That stance might need slight reevaluation later.
The slightly comical Spy Face drops away as she answers his second question, though. In a deliberately nonchalant way, she shrugs and explains in far too simple terms, "I kinda blew up a spaceship while I was still inside it."
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A brow shoots up. "How the hell did you do that?" he asks, dropping the next bag against the metal bin. He stands straight and looks at her. There's no disbelief. He's not a man to underestimate anyone, let alone a petite gal like her. She works for SHIELD. They don't train agents to be passive heroes.
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A slightly smug smile crosses her face as she tilts her head to the side and oh so casually answers, "With my superpower." As if that's a completely normal explanation for such an abnormal feat. But then the smile fades and she looks down at her shoes, the boots a bit dirty from the walk but thankfully not caked in cow droppings. She makes a show of lifting checking so she has an excuse not to watch his reaction as she adds, "I'm an Inhuman."
Daisy Johnson is used to people hating her for what she is, whether that hatred is earned or not. She isn't ashamed of being an Inhuman, she takes real pride in it and tries to instill that pride in others as well. Somehow, though, knowing the opinion of one Bucky Barnes on this matter is a truly terrifying prospect. She's suddenly understanding why they say you shouldn't meet your heroes.
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He's about to cut the top of the next bag when he stops and looks at her, quietly regarding the woman and feeling something different. Something he didn't expect -- not with someone he barely knows.
It was a connection.
"And what does that mean beyond you've got a superpower?" Bucky was very serious with his question, especially since once she admitted it, the bottom of her boot was more important. Why was she worried about his reaction? "I've got a metal arm. Doesn't.."
He pauses, suddenly not so sure he believes the words himself. So, why try to convince someone else of them in their own case. Another moment passes and finally, he goes for it anyway since he's not sure if she was the type to press, albeit in a lower voice.
"It doesn't completely define who you are."
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Taking a deep breath, she nods her head, looking up from the ground to give him a small, grateful smile. "You're right, it doesn't." She shrugs off her backpack then, setting it down on a clear patch of ground. "A lot of people think it does. I've been called an abomination and a weapon of mass destruction. I've had death threats thrown at me and been refused service in more places than I can count. But..."
Lifting one of her hands palm-up in a meaningless gesture as she works her way through what she wants to say, she finally tells him, "Being an Inhuman — it's what I am, and it is a big part of who I am because those experiences have shaped me. But it's not all of me."
And then, because she wants it to be very clear where she stands on the matter, she takes two steps closer to him and addresses the issue head-on. "I think the same thing is true about you and what you've been through."
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Bucky pauses for a long moment, the struggle in his head evident by his body language; his step back and his eyes casting off before he turns fully to fetch another bag of feed all classic signs of avoidance. Almost as if he feels that he can't see himself any other way than the monster he is because he deserves the agony of knowing that.
And yet, he's still there and very present in the conversation.
"Then you also know it's not an easy thing to make yourself believe that."
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And her. Some part of Daisy wonders if Shuri knew this would happen when she sent her this way.
"Yeah, I do," she confirms with a nod, already settled on the decision to drop this particular topic. For now. So, a change of subject is in order. "My name's Daisy. In case you were wondering."
Is that a little bit of flirting in there? Agent Johnson, what are you doing...
visuals —
- need a place to hide, but I can't find one near
Removing HYDRA's program was proving to be a bit more difficult and after some stress tests, that progress was knocked back several steps leaving Bucky feeling angry and erratic and unstable. Enough that they had to subdue him and put him in a room and let the episode lose its momentum naturally; he had the tools necessary to do that but he had to take control of his own mind for them to work.
Only it was looking as if he couldn't get through it on his own.
Shuri considers who to call, knowing that someone will need to pull him out and after some thought and realizing Steve Rogers was too far in hiding to be able to help, she remembers someone else who helped the soldier more than she likely expected.
So, she calls Daisy Johnson.
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Worry ate at her the entire way to Mount Bashenga, even minute feeling like an hour. The handful of conversations she's had with Bucky during her time in Wakanda have endeared the man even further to her, opening something in her heart she'd worried was closed off forever. After everything he's been through, the broken hero deserves nothing but a little peace in which to get his bearings, but goddamn HYDRA keeps rearing another head to attack him, even if it's just in his mind. She knows better than anyone how that can be the most dangerous battleground.
She doesn't hesitate to inform Shuri that she's going into that room; there's no consideration whatsoever of there even being other options. Bucky's in there, so she's going in too. And she can handle whatever he throws at her because that's what he needs right now.
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Shuri leads Daisy towards a door and when she opens it she listens, then lets out a sound of relief as she nods vaguely in the direction of where the agent will find him. "Just be careful, Agent Johnson. I would not have called you had I felt you could not help him out of this. But I cannot be sure who you will get in there."
An agonizing cry bellows down the hall, one that seems to convey his pain in an almost palpable way. It's only when Daisy sees him that she might understand how horribly stuck he had to feel to be pressed into a corner of the room, a bloody hand holding the side of his head while fingers tangle in dark hair; his face twisted and contorted in silent suffering.
The closer Daisy gets, she will hear him mumbling over and over as his breathing becomes more laboured and irregular.
"Just get out of my head.. get out of my head... get out of my head... I need to get out of my head..."
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Seeing him breaks something in her that might never be repaired. It's one thing to know what HYDRA had done to him — seeing the way those monsters still affect him makes her wish she could kill Gideon Malick all over again. Him and all the others who had ever played a part in doing this to an innocent man.
When she's close enough to feel his heart beating in his chest, she stills, both hands held out and open at her sides. Keeping her expression calm and even takes every bit of her training. She pitches her voice low, careful, approaching him the way you would a wounded animal since she can't know which way his instincts will fall.
"Bucky? Bucky, it's Daisy, can you hear me?"
a new start —
Re: a new start —
So, when the note and file are slid under his door early in the day, he can't help but wonder why the hell he's being set up. This was obviously a test and Bucky isn't interested in being locked up on the Raft because he broke some condition that was in the fine print. The folder is promptly tossed and left there until later in the afternoon when he goes back and retrieves it.
For a good hour, he looks over the various documents and reports and something compels him to consider it even though he knows it might end poorly for him. But he looks at the note attached to the front and decides he has nothing really left to lose.
When he shows up, he's wearing a baseball cap, hoodie and leather jacket, his typical look when he's trying not to purposely give himself away. Still, he lingers, watching her through the window to make sure this wasn't some kind of takedown. And when he enters the shop, he stops and looks at her suspiciously before making his way to the booth.
He doesn't sit down.
"It's Daisy, right?" he says, knowing full well it's her. Bucky eyes the second cup of coffee and then glances out the window again. "So, what exactly is it you want?"
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In the hours between dropping off the file and sitting at this table, she'd rehearsed what she might say, weighing a dozen different approaches. It's only now that he's sitting here that she decides to just dive right in, no bullshit runaround.
"To talk," she answers, reaching over to take that second cup of coffee. She takes a sip of it herself before placing it back down in front of him, just in case he's worried she's trying to drug him or something. "I've been... monitoring your situation and, frankly, it sucks. You're basically on house arrest without being stuck in one place. You don't deserve that."
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Bucky looks at the coffee, reaches down and moves it to the table beside before sliding into the booth. But before he lets her begin, he waves down the waitress and requests a fresh coffee. Only after one is brought over does he give Daisy his undivided attention.
"Who cares what I deserve. They don't. Why do you?" he replies, his tone definitely defensive and more than a bit skeptical that someone from SHIELD would want to help him. "What's in it for you? A promotion?"
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"SHIELD doesn't work like that anymore," she tells him, her words less defensive and more a simple statement of the nature of things. "It wasn't ever supposed to. The agency was founded under the core principle of protection and HYDRA corrupted that. More people should have seen it happening and been able to stop it, but that didn't happen and you suffered as a result."
anyone else but you —
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He had a point that even Bucky couldn't argue.
The restaurant didn't take him long to get to given it was in Brooklyn and he knows there's a joke behind it given how it was literally less than a 10-minute walk from where he was now living. So, he arrives a few minutes early, dressed in what he'd consider first date (was it a date?) attire and waits nervously at one of the tables beside the wall.
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She'd never planned on being a superhero, complete with action figures and posters on kids' walls, but her life never really had gone according to plan.
The restaurant isn't hard to find, and, when she catches sight of it, she's impressed. Her opinion of it rises even higher when she steps inside. It's warm and cozy, intimate without feeling forced. There's an almost rustic feel to it, but in a classy way that feels like old-world chic. And when she sees Bucky waiting there looking like he's ready to launch himself through one of the windows—
Damn if she doesn't find that endearing.
"Hey there, old-timer," she teases affectionately when she reaches the table, a little black purse in one hand into which her sunglasses have disappeared. "You never said you clean up this nice. I think you've been holding out on me."
Because wow. Just... wow.
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Bucky gets up and grins, shaking his head. Yes, his cheeks might be a little pink after the compliment he was paid.
"It was a toss-up between this and wearing an argyle sweater with suspenders. You're welcome." he shoots back playfully, waiting for her to sit. Daisy will no doubt be able to tell the kind of gentleman he was back then.
"And look at you..." Bucky looks her over. "You look amazing."
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But even knowing that he's still a gentleman at heart, it sets something in her chest fluttering when he stands and waits for her to sit like that. And when he compliments her in return... Well, he's not the only one who's smiling and turning a subtle shade of pink.
"It must be the shower," she replies in her own playful tone, needing something to distract from how flustered she's suddenly feeling. "I should really try that more often. You know I'm usually a huge slob."
(She isn't, at least not in her appearance. Her room at the base, however...)
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Of course, it was a little easier when they were out on missions to talk and tease and banter away like the three of them did. That seems to come easier than this and within moments of his last words, he's already trying to figure out where to navigate the conversation.
"I hope you like Italian. I wasn't even sure what I liked and then... " Bucky slides a menu over and opens it up. "It's like the reservation made itself."
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Which is ridiculous. She's faced aliens and killer robots and the end of the world, but sitting in a nice restaurant with a nice guy is what makes her nervous? Get it together, Johnson.
"Just like magic," she comments with a knowing smile. Who knew the new Captain America liked to play matchmaker. "But I do like Italian, yes. A lot. I'm not a picky eater in general, but it's up there on my favorites list."
She picks up the wine list and gives it a comical grimace before exchanging it for a menu. "I will admit that I have no idea what to do with that, though."
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"Yeah," he looks at the drink menu. "I guess we're going to be the only ones in here drinking something different. Beer?"
It's getting easier. The atmosphere is helping but Daisy is making things relaxed and normal and without that, he's pretty sure he would have botched the whole thing and took off without a word.
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"Oh god yes," she answers with a relieved laugh, glad they won't be bumbling their way through trying to choose a 'proper' wine. "Beer is much more my speed."
She's quiet for a moment, her mind whirring a mile a minute as she tries to settle on a topic, before she finally lowers the menu she'd been pretending to study. "Cards on the table? This is the first date I've ever been on."
It's not something she'd specifically planned on sharing, but she's less worried about possibly being teased for her inexperience than she is concerned that he feels comfortable. He's had to adjust to so much that if she can help in even some small way, she will.
the weather outside is frightful —
no subject
When he fell off the train.
But, there's some ease in knowing that he's not alone this time. Daisy has been something of a grounding point since SHIELD decided to pair them up in between the bigger threat events that most are jaded to believe happen less often than they actually do.
When they get inside, Bucky immediately checks the entire house out of habit. It's a small hunting cabin with one room, and a bathroom the size of a closet with composting toilet and washbasin. There's a make-shift counter with a couple of propane lanterns and a box full of canned food and plenty of dehydrated packets of food to last for weeks.
Over in the main area is a fold-out couch and wood-burning stove with logs stacked up along another wall across from it. He points to it. ]
Right there.
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You're hilarious. [ Those flat words are muttered (but well within his range of hearing) as she moves toward the stack, walking stiffly from muscles tightened against the onslaught of shivers. After a few moments of staring miserably at the pile, she groans and turns back to him. ]
I'm really hoping you know how to do this because I skipped Fire Making 101 in training. [ Her voice stutters slightly while her jaw trembles. ] And sure, I could probably figure it out, but I might burn the place down before I get there.
[ But he's Bucky Barnes, surely his time in the army taught him a thing or two about survival, right? Hopefully? ]
no subject
Somehow, he didn't expect her to know, or not being entirely experienced, with starting fires. He wasn't nearly as cold as her. In fact, Bucky was taking off a layer when she approached the idea of him taking over.
Within 10 minutes, the heat began radiating off the stove and five more minutes after that, it was starting to fill the small room quite quickly. As he shoves another log in, he wanders off and finds a couple of sleeping bags. When he emerges again, he's unrolling one for her. ]
You getting warmer now?
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While Bucky works on the fire, Daisy tries to stay still and fails miserably. She sits on the couch, then stands and leans against the wall. Back to the couch. Up again to stiffly pace. It's not until the room finally starts to warm that she settles properly onto the couch, arms still wrapped around herself. The part of her that hates being cold (which is a very large part, in fact) wants to go stand as close to the stove as she can safely manage, but the more practical side recalls one of Simmons' many warnings about how to safely come back to temp after prolonged exposure to the cold. She can practically hear Jemma in her head, reminding her of the hours after she'd been rescued from space. ]
Starting to. [ She answers with a slight nod, the shivers no longer stuttering her words. But then she frowns and looks up at Bucky in concern. ] Are you doing okay? With all the... everything?
[ He'd spent the better part of a century being frozen again and again. She'd been frozen once (under very different circumstances) and can't begin to imagine what this must be like for him to be so starkly reminded of those horrible times. ]
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Moving the next bag of feed to the trough it was going into, Bucky turned his face up to her and offers a smile.
"I was wondering, actually," he says, his tone shifting to something more spirited. "Ever since you walked up this way."
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"You might also hear people refer to me as Quake," she adds, calling up that playful nonchalance from before. "My powers let me control vibrations. Cause earthquakes, that sort of thing. So if you feel the ground shaking anytime over the next few weeks..." She shrugs. "It's probably just me."
Not that it's likely to come to that but better to offer fair warning. Shuri and T'Challa are well aware of the possibility and have taken precautions, but she doesn't know if something like that might bother Bucky more than the average person.
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He glances up as the bag empties and nods before straightening. "Would that be you doing it voluntarily? Or is that why you're here?" Because it isn't voluntary. There's enough in her words that explain that the plane incident and what might have come before it wasn't.
There is no digging, just curiosity.