[ Being alone is one of the worst things in the world. Daisy's experienced far too much of it in her life, that feeling of being adrift in the middle of the ocean, so close to drowning in loneliness, desperate for any kind of real connection. She wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone, especially not someone as undeserving of it as Bucky Barnes.
Her expression is open and maybe a little bit nervous as she looks at him, taking in what he's said before finally nodding with certainty. ]
I am. If you're okay with seeing it. It's not always my prettiest side... [ She starts to say something else, stops, then tries again after a moment, hesitation laced through the words. ]
Up until now, I haven't pushed for you to share things about yourself and I'm not going to start. But if you want to, you can. Always, anytime. No topic is too heavy — I will always listen and I won't judge you. I'll only ever run because of my own bullshit, never yours. I promise. You're stuck with me, Barnes, for better or worse.
[ Those words twinge something in him. To the end of the line, he thinks. Except the line ended a while ago. And he's been— functioning, mostly but barely— since then. Bucky Barnes is affable and friendly enough these days, but he's also bristling with cheerfully defensive edges, constantly deflecting. He's been more honest with Daisy because it's absurdly, surprisingly easy with her, but those last hurdles are going to be trouble. He wonders what'll finally kick him over the edge. ]
Thanks. The same goes for you.
[ Is all he can manage for now, as he eases back against the pillows with an exhaustion partially from yesterday's parking lot collapse, partially from— this. These conversations. The delicate, stubborn work of prising open that shield over his heart.
But he looks back over at her: that hesitant, nervous look from her, those dark waiting eyes, and with a quirk at the corner of his mouth, he just says it because he can't resist. She practically tee'd it up for him. ]
[ It doesn't matter how long it takes to peel back those protective layers and discover the man underneath; Daisy is in this for the long haul. However long Bucky will let her be by his side, she'll be there — hell, she'll even fight herself if that's what it takes, do her damnedest to resist the inevitable urge to run. Because this is important, this is real, and she wants it. Bad.
Just when she worries things might have gotten too heavy, he steers them back onto the safe course, laying out the kind of line that has her raising her eyebrows and then bursting out in a laugh. ]
Oh my god, did you really just— [ And there's another laugh, deep enough to shake her body and rattle her arm. She only winces a little though, the pain meds starting to kick in. ]
Oh, c'mon, I tried. I was being earnest. [ But even Bucky Barnes' earnestness was often such a tongue-in-cheek thing, so he can't help his own laugh as Daisy just cracks and dissolves into laughter.
Even with Sam, he kept vacillating back and forth between teasing and genuinely wearing his heart on his sleeve. Pretending he hadn't been paying attention to the other man's heartfelt speech (Sorry, I was texting), before delivering the best compliment he could think of to give, even simple as it was: Nice job, Cap.
So it's the same with her. He couches it with teasing, with laughter, then with the occasional heartfelt compliment. ]
[ Damn, it feels good to laugh, and it feels even better to hear Bucky laugh with her. She would bet good money that he doesn't get to do that nearly enough these days, and it's not as if he doesn't have a lot of time to make up for. If she can help him have more moments like this... ]
You're a dork.
[ The words come out practically dripping with affection and there's no stopping the smile she wears. She's happy, and she has a feeling that he might be too. Scooting down so she's a bit more comfortable, she shrugs with her good shoulder. ]
Oh, well, as long as you like it, then you're stuck with it.
[ She's slumped down and curled against his side, and Bucky's eased back against the jumble of pillows and the wall, too. The morning dose of painkillers have had their time to start kicking in again, although they drag more on Daisy's edges, their kick more potent. ]
Bet you wouldn't've guessed from the history books and the Wall of Valor and the Smithsonian that I'm actually one entire idiot.
[ The outsize reputation — for better or for worse, the war hero or the cold-blooded assassin — had always sat wrong and uncomfortable with him. He hated when people looked at him with mistrust, but also hated when they looked at him with starstruck awe. So being able to puncture some of that rep and have Daisy just see him as good ole dorky James— well, that's better. ]
[ Like so many other times in the hours they've spent together, Daisy knows this physical closeness should feel weird or awkward... but it doesn't. These moments with him have felt completely normal and she can count on one hand how many people she's this naturally comfortable with. So while the pills make the edges of the world a little fuzzy like fluffy cotton being wrapped around her, she curls a little closer into the warmth that radiates from his solid body, feeling a bit like a cat gravitating toward a sunbeam. ]
My impression of you has been thoroughly corrected, don't worry.
[ He's a ridiculous, incorrigible dork who will make jokes and tease at every possible opportunity, and he's also more than a little nerdy with his love of space and Lord of the Rings. Those are things she hadn't known about him before but none of those facts make him less of a hero in her eyes — it's quite possible that nothing ever will, despite his best efforts. ]
What about me? How has your impression of me changed since we first met?
[ It's an easy question, posed lightly with the expectation of a less than serious reply. ]
[ On a regular date between regular people, maybe that question would've seemed like a trap: fishing for compliments, digging for him to say something aimless and nice about her. Petting the ego. But they've both been far more honest with each other throughout, and so his answer, when it comes, is sincere even while the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile. ]
When we first started working together? I thought hot, capable SHIELD agent. [ A flicker of a grin. ] Now: still a hot, capable SHIELD agent, but who can make me laugh and who's got seriously unexpected hidden depths.
[ Daisy certainly isn't fishing for compliments with the question. If anything, she's expecting him to absolutely roast her, pointing out some quirky flaw that she could be comically offended about. But, of course, he defies expectation and decides to flatter her with what she's discovered is his characteristic charm.
Well, she can't just sit and take that sort of treatment. ]
Hmph, more like seriously unexpected trauma. [ Because accepting genuine compliments is hard, okay? Smirking, she glances over at him with humor in her eyes. ] I am pretty hot though, you're not wrong about that.
Trauma, depths, what's the difference? [ It felt oddly refreshing being able to be so open and flippant about it: not having to tiptoe around it or walk on eggshells or try in vain to pretend either of them were completely 100% well-adjusted. A semi-stable 100-year-old man, he'd joked once, and that summary still held true. Part of what rankled so much was the gaping disparity between the man he'd been before the war and the man he was today, so acknowledging it felt like a small weight off his shoulders. ]
Just wait until this black eye goes away, [ which would be faster for him than for anyone else without his serum-overhauled system, ] and then I'll be back to my extremely dashing handsome good looks, too.
[ Is there really a difference? Maybe for other people but definitely not for them. And it really is nice to be able to admit that and not be completely afraid of the other person finding that the biggest turn-off. They don't know all of each others traumatic depths but they understand each other and that's a damn good start to whatever this is. ]
Yeah, I guess you're alright in the looks department. [ She grins and nestles down even further against the pillows, not intending to get up any time soon. ] For an old guy.
[ A second passes and then she grins at him, leaning hard into the teasing as inspiration strikes. ] Hey, do you get the senior discount at restaurants? That'd be real nice for a date.
[ He snorts; wrinkles his nose and tips his head back against the wall. ]
Okay, you're joking but this is actually, like, a real goddamn problem. Confession: The government hooked me up with a fake ID which says I'm in my mid-30s. Which is technically some kind of fraud, I guess, but it's way better than the Conversation™ I'd have to have every time I show ID at a bar or when I'm just trying to sign up for a library card. People are more likely to think it's fake if it says I was born in 1917. I didn't want to deal with that, and the authorities were okay with me going a bit more under the radar, as much as I could, so. I've got a fake ID, like some teenager.
[ It is an absolutely ridiculous arrangement and he's just waiting for the day Sam finally realises it and has a ball with the fact. ]
[ Daisy waves her hand dismissively, not actually dismissing his concern and irritation with his situation but moreso keeping the feeling of the conversation light. They'd had enough heavy stuff in the last 24 hours, they could use a break. ]
I never existed legally in this country, so technically, all my IDs have been fake. Well, the first one technically, the rest definitely. I'm really good at creating fake identities — and erasing real ones. [ She nudges his leg with her own. ] So welcome to the club, Barnes.
Well, yeah, but I still can't get over the fact that mine is government-sanctioned. Does that make it not fake and loop it back around to 'genuine'? Philosophical questions.
[ Hearing that Daisy's got an entire stable of fake IDs is, in fact, one fo the least surprising things he's ever heard about her. He exhales against the top of her head, where she's nestled into the crook of his arm. ]
[ Ah. A logical question considering the information she'd just shared. Taking a deep breath, she lets it out slowly, using those fleeting seconds to decide how to start. ]
I was a baby when HYDRA went after my mom because she was Inhuman. They took her and when my dad went after her, he left me in the village. [ She struggles with what to tell him, how much to say of the tragedy that had shaped her entire life. ] Things went... bad. Really bad. The SHIELD agents thought they were saving me by getting me out. They probably did; if HYDRA had found out what I was...
[ She turns slightly more toward him, the angle of her body shifting just that tiny bit, but she swears she can feel more of the warmth emanating from his body. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. ]
An agent dropped me off at the orphanage and made sure I stayed safe. A fake name, never staying in one place long enough to really make connections. It wasn't until I joined SHIELD that I learned it wasn't that no one wanted me, it was the family I was meant to have keeping me safe.
[ Hadn't she just been thinking they needed a break from the heavy stuff? Sighing, she turns her head toward his chest, breathing in the faded scent of his laundry detergent. ]
I know you've heard me sing the praises of SHIELD a lot and that I've offered you a bunch of chances to get involved with the agency, but I just want you to know it's okay if it's not your thing. And it's really okay if you're still uncertain about us. You have more right than anyone to be skeptical of what we are.
[ God, he should've known that that question would've meant stepping right into it. She really wasn't kidding about those depths of trauma.
But it's like piecing together a set of disjointed puzzle pieces, and having it all resolve into a cohesive image by the end: no wonder Daisy trusts SHIELD so much. No wonder she sees them as family, as rescuers, where he hasn't had those same experiences. He liked and trusted the SSR in its original form, but then he'd been involved firsthand in the corruption of SHIELD; Zola had experimented on him and seeded the agency with rot; the agency had still honoured the scientist even decades later; and so part of Bucky still kept half-wondering if HYDRA was still there, if the agents hadn't actually succeeded in ripping the corruption out from the roots. He wanted to believe it was safe. But it was hard to tell. ]
Yeah, I guess I'm still figuring that out. I'm starting to really see how they're your family, though.
[ When she turns her head into his chest, it gives him a better angle; Bucky's right hand absentmindedly brushes some of her hair back from her forehead. ]
I didn't know HYDRA went after your parents. I'm sorry that happened.
[ In pure selfishness— he's beyond relieved that the Winter Soldier hadn't been involved in that particular mission. ]
[ Daisy's eyes close at the touch to her hair, savoring the gentleness and warmth of his fingers that she can feel against her skin. If only this could be part of their everyday. Maybe something like this would help chase away at least a few of the nightmares that haunt her.
But who is she kidding? She'll never be able to escape the horrors of her past. ]
It was one man in particular.
[ The words come out on their own, the start of a confession she hadn't intended to make yet. He's just so easy to talk to and he deserves to know the extent of the mess he'll have on his hands with her if they really do this. ]
He was one of the top scientists in the war. He'd heard of a story about Inhumans and he went to find them. He captured my mom and when he found out she was different... But the SSR arrived before he could do anything. They put him in prison for forty years until HYDRA let him out. He went searching for Inhumans again and he found her.
[ Even after all these years, it hurts to talk about it. It might hurt even more now that she understands what her mother went through that day. ]
My mom didn't age. It was part of her gift. So when this monstrous old man saw that she was still young, he— He cut her to pieces. He took parts of her for himself so he could take her gift and be young again, and then he dumped what was left in a ditch for my dad to find.
[ Maybe it's good that her face is turned in against his chest, so she doesn't have to meet his eye and he doesn't have to look at her face; doesn't have to scrutinise the potential pain rippling across Daisy as she has to recount this absolutely horrific, fucked-up turn of events. ]
What the fuck,
[ Bucky says, and his voice is low and tense and strained. He sounds— angry, but maybe not as shocked as he could be. He knows what HYDRA's like. He was on the inside of it for so long, with a front-row seat to their atrocities. He'd been a part of it. Had perpetrated it. Had tortured targets, and trained others in said torture.
But knowing that something so terrible had happened to the mother of someone he cared for; that she'd been carved up like so much meat on a butcher's block... that was unspeakably awful. If he'd had a more accelerated healing factor, he knows without a doubt that HYDRA would've carved him up over and over to figure out how he worked, too. It was just how they operated. ]
I'm so sorry, Daisy, [ he says again. His arm encircles her, wrapping tighter. ]
I know what HYDRA's like, so I won't say I'm surprised, but— I'm pissed. I can't even imagine how it must've felt, learning that.
[ Hearing Bucky's voice sound like that hurts in a very different way. She knows all too well how it feels to know that someone you care about is in pain, and for once in her life, she trusts another person enough to not doubt their affection for her. And it... She'd never talked about it with anyone. Not like this. She'd never had anyone comfort her because of her grief over what was done to her mother.
Except for her dad. It had only been a moment and she'd still thought of him as a monster, but she can still recall the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder and the sound of quiet humming as he tried to help her cope with that horrible revelation. ]
He got away with it for 25 years until my dad finally found him. That whole day was... Coulson killed him, but my dad was trying to.
[ She tries to move the tiniest bit closer to Bucky, needing the comfort he offers even if it puts uncomfortable pressure on her arm. The only way she's going to get the next part out is if he doesn't let go. ]
Bucky, I need to tell you something and I can't answer questions about it, not right now. I just need you to understand—
[ What? Why she's as broken as she is? Just what level of trauma he's signing up for with her. They haven't even gone on a real date yet and she's already baring part of her soul to him, which should seem crazy but... doesn't. Even if this doesn't work out, she knows without a shred of doubt that they'll still be in each other's lives. This connection between them is too strong. ]
When we were traveling through the past, we created an alternate timeline, one where Gideon Malick's son never died. He saw me use my power and he— [ Her voice wavers slightly, like a ripple across still water. ] HYDRA families talk, he said. He found that scientist in prison and he learned how to— He did it to me. Not to the same extent, but...
When I wake up and the room's shaking, it's because of him.
[ It was bad enough, hearing that it had happened to her mother.
It's worse, knowing that it had also happened to her.
'I'm sorry' has lost all potency; the words feel woollen and meaningless in his mouth, and so he doesn't even try. Everything is inadequate: how does he comfort someone again? Bucky's practically forgotten, when so much of his coping mechanisms have revolved around batting people away.
There's that overwhelming ache in his chest to do something, anything, but even seizing the Dramatic Gesture™ wouldn't sit quite right, either. Taking advantage of a vulnerable moment. It isn't the right time and he doesn't want that moment to be marred with the recollection of this particular conversation, either.
So he just draws Daisy closer. Chin against the top of her head, and he breathes out.
Maybe, admittedly, part of this massive consuming fondness for her is in how fresh it feels. A storm finally breaking after years of simmering pressure. Bucky hasn't been able to care for someone like this in so very, very long; and as much as he's out of practice, he also has so many years to make up for, all that pent-up seratonin winging around with nowhere to go. But chalking it up to that would cheapen it, too. He's pretty sure there's more to it.
Because Bucky would murder this man for her, if he could, if there weren't alternate timelines in the way. The realisation settles in like bricks clicking into place, no ethical bellyaching over it. He would simply close the iron fist of HYDRA around the man's throat and squeeze until he stopped moving. (That irony wouldn't be lost on him, either.) It wouldn't be like all those years being aimed against innocent targets; this target would not be innocent.
But it's not possible and he strangles that anger, swallows it, and then simply says: ]
[ The way he feels about her trauma is the way she feels about his. She can't even begin to comprehend everything he's been through or the struggle he must have endured just in trying to get back to himself again. What she's been through, Hive and Malick and everything in between, doesn't hold a candle to his pain. He had been alone through it all — just the thought of it makes her want to cry and rage and scream. Haul the time drive out of storage and go back to stop it before it even started. But she can't do that and it's not what he needs from her. For now, as far as she can tell, he needs someone to help him feel something like normal again, and somehow their messed up versions of normal align.
And what she needs from him is for him to just be there with her. By some miracle, he hasn't run from her broken bits yet, even as she keeps revealing more and more to them. Just staying with her despite all the reasons she'd given for him to leave... that's all she needs. So when she hears those words from him, the tension drains out of her body and she feels—
Safe. ]
Thank you.
[ Two words that fail miserably to convey just how grateful she is for this feeling that's filling her up inside. Daisy has always felt physically safe with Bucky, both in that he wouldn't harm her and that he would protect her. But her heart is an entirely different matter. So many things could so easily break this fragile thing growing between them and she's been so worried about it, but now she's a little less so. Because of him. Because of the way Bucky Barnes accepts her.
She's quiet for a few moments before tilting her head back to look up at him. ]
Don't you have a birthday coming up soon?
[ Sorry for the emotional whiplash there, Bucky. ]
[ Bucky blinks; caught off-guard, not just by the abrupt topic shift but by the answer to the question at all. He'd fallen entirely out of the habit of marking or commemorating his own birthday. (For a while there, he hadn't even remembered what date his birthday was, until Steve and public record had filled in the blanks.) Between all the chaos and unusual circumstances of the last few years, he'd never really done anything for it. So it takes him a second to dredge up that unremarked-upon date, like something from the ocean depths. ]
I guess so. March 10th, yeah. Still don't really know how old I'm technically turning. Why?
We should do something. Birthdays are important and I want to celebrate the day you were born, even if it was a really long time ago.
[ Does she put a comical amount of emphasis on that last part? Yep, she absolutely does. They need to lighten the mood and joking about his age is a safe space for them. She's already contemplating all the ways she could possibly emphasize his being among the elderly for said birthday celebrations. ]
[ This is safer territory. And it's not like they're running away from it — she's still curled up against him, after all — but it's more like finding steady footing again, a less perilous foundation to stand on rather than the heavier subjects before. ]
Hmm. What do people do in the 2020s to mark their birthdays?
[ Daisy snorts out a very unladylike laugh and doesn't care one bit. ]
You're asking the wrong person. I've never done the big party thing, it's usually just dinner with cake if a mission doesn't come up.
[ She doesn't mention that she hadn't had any birthday parties growing up because she hadn't known her real birthday. That's back into the heavy stuff and a whole other kind of trauma.]
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Her expression is open and maybe a little bit nervous as she looks at him, taking in what he's said before finally nodding with certainty. ]
I am. If you're okay with seeing it. It's not always my prettiest side... [ She starts to say something else, stops, then tries again after a moment, hesitation laced through the words. ]
Up until now, I haven't pushed for you to share things about yourself and I'm not going to start. But if you want to, you can. Always, anytime. No topic is too heavy — I will always listen and I won't judge you. I'll only ever run because of my own bullshit, never yours. I promise. You're stuck with me, Barnes, for better or worse.
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Thanks. The same goes for you.
[ Is all he can manage for now, as he eases back against the pillows with an exhaustion partially from yesterday's parking lot collapse, partially from— this. These conversations. The delicate, stubborn work of prising open that shield over his heart.
But he looks back over at her: that hesitant, nervous look from her, those dark waiting eyes, and with a quirk at the corner of his mouth, he just says it because he can't resist. She practically tee'd it up for him. ]
Also, I dunno, I think you're always pretty.
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Just when she worries things might have gotten too heavy, he steers them back onto the safe course, laying out the kind of line that has her raising her eyebrows and then bursting out in a laugh. ]
Oh my god, did you really just— [ And there's another laugh, deep enough to shake her body and rattle her arm. She only winces a little though, the pain meds starting to kick in. ]
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Even with Sam, he kept vacillating back and forth between teasing and genuinely wearing his heart on his sleeve. Pretending he hadn't been paying attention to the other man's heartfelt speech (Sorry, I was texting), before delivering the best compliment he could think of to give, even simple as it was: Nice job, Cap.
So it's the same with her. He couches it with teasing, with laughter, then with the occasional heartfelt compliment. ]
Can't blame a guy for trying.
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You're a dork.
[ The words come out practically dripping with affection and there's no stopping the smile she wears. She's happy, and she has a feeling that he might be too. Scooting down so she's a bit more comfortable, she shrugs with her good shoulder. ]
But I like that in a guy.
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[ She's slumped down and curled against his side, and Bucky's eased back against the jumble of pillows and the wall, too. The morning dose of painkillers have had their time to start kicking in again, although they drag more on Daisy's edges, their kick more potent. ]
Bet you wouldn't've guessed from the history books and the Wall of Valor and the Smithsonian that I'm actually one entire idiot.
[ The outsize reputation — for better or for worse, the war hero or the cold-blooded assassin — had always sat wrong and uncomfortable with him. He hated when people looked at him with mistrust, but also hated when they looked at him with starstruck awe. So being able to puncture some of that rep and have Daisy just see him as good ole dorky James— well, that's better. ]
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My impression of you has been thoroughly corrected, don't worry.
[ He's a ridiculous, incorrigible dork who will make jokes and tease at every possible opportunity, and he's also more than a little nerdy with his love of space and Lord of the Rings. Those are things she hadn't known about him before but none of those facts make him less of a hero in her eyes — it's quite possible that nothing ever will, despite his best efforts. ]
What about me? How has your impression of me changed since we first met?
[ It's an easy question, posed lightly with the expectation of a less than serious reply. ]
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When we first started working together? I thought hot, capable SHIELD agent. [ A flicker of a grin. ] Now: still a hot, capable SHIELD agent, but who can make me laugh and who's got seriously unexpected hidden depths.
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Well, she can't just sit and take that sort of treatment. ]
Hmph, more like seriously unexpected trauma. [ Because accepting genuine compliments is hard, okay? Smirking, she glances over at him with humor in her eyes. ] I am pretty hot though, you're not wrong about that.
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Just wait until this black eye goes away, [ which would be faster for him than for anyone else without his serum-overhauled system, ] and then I'll be back to my extremely dashing handsome good looks, too.
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Yeah, I guess you're alright in the looks department. [ She grins and nestles down even further against the pillows, not intending to get up any time soon. ] For an old guy.
[ A second passes and then she grins at him, leaning hard into the teasing as inspiration strikes. ] Hey, do you get the senior discount at restaurants? That'd be real nice for a date.
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Okay, you're joking but this is actually, like, a real goddamn problem. Confession: The government hooked me up with a fake ID which says I'm in my mid-30s. Which is technically some kind of fraud, I guess, but it's way better than the Conversation™ I'd have to have every time I show ID at a bar or when I'm just trying to sign up for a library card. People are more likely to think it's fake if it says I was born in 1917. I didn't want to deal with that, and the authorities were okay with me going a bit more under the radar, as much as I could, so. I've got a fake ID, like some teenager.
[ It is an absolutely ridiculous arrangement and he's just waiting for the day Sam finally realises it and has a ball with the fact. ]
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I never existed legally in this country, so technically, all my IDs have been fake. Well, the first one technically, the rest definitely. I'm really good at creating fake identities — and erasing real ones. [ She nudges his leg with her own. ] So welcome to the club, Barnes.
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[ Hearing that Daisy's got an entire stable of fake IDs is, in fact, one fo the least surprising things he's ever heard about her. He exhales against the top of her head, where she's nestled into the crook of his arm. ]
How'd you get from China to here?
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I was a baby when HYDRA went after my mom because she was Inhuman. They took her and when my dad went after her, he left me in the village. [ She struggles with what to tell him, how much to say of the tragedy that had shaped her entire life. ] Things went... bad. Really bad. The SHIELD agents thought they were saving me by getting me out. They probably did; if HYDRA had found out what I was...
[ She turns slightly more toward him, the angle of her body shifting just that tiny bit, but she swears she can feel more of the warmth emanating from his body. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. ]
An agent dropped me off at the orphanage and made sure I stayed safe. A fake name, never staying in one place long enough to really make connections. It wasn't until I joined SHIELD that I learned it wasn't that no one wanted me, it was the family I was meant to have keeping me safe.
[ Hadn't she just been thinking they needed a break from the heavy stuff? Sighing, she turns her head toward his chest, breathing in the faded scent of his laundry detergent. ]
I know you've heard me sing the praises of SHIELD a lot and that I've offered you a bunch of chances to get involved with the agency, but I just want you to know it's okay if it's not your thing. And it's really okay if you're still uncertain about us. You have more right than anyone to be skeptical of what we are.
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But it's like piecing together a set of disjointed puzzle pieces, and having it all resolve into a cohesive image by the end: no wonder Daisy trusts SHIELD so much. No wonder she sees them as family, as rescuers, where he hasn't had those same experiences. He liked and trusted the SSR in its original form, but then he'd been involved firsthand in the corruption of SHIELD; Zola had experimented on him and seeded the agency with rot; the agency had still honoured the scientist even decades later; and so part of Bucky still kept half-wondering if HYDRA was still there, if the agents hadn't actually succeeded in ripping the corruption out from the roots. He wanted to believe it was safe. But it was hard to tell. ]
Yeah, I guess I'm still figuring that out. I'm starting to really see how they're your family, though.
[ When she turns her head into his chest, it gives him a better angle; Bucky's right hand absentmindedly brushes some of her hair back from her forehead. ]
I didn't know HYDRA went after your parents. I'm sorry that happened.
[ In pure selfishness— he's beyond relieved that the Winter Soldier hadn't been involved in that particular mission. ]
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But who is she kidding? She'll never be able to escape the horrors of her past. ]
It was one man in particular.
[ The words come out on their own, the start of a confession she hadn't intended to make yet. He's just so easy to talk to and he deserves to know the extent of the mess he'll have on his hands with her if they really do this. ]
He was one of the top scientists in the war. He'd heard of a story about Inhumans and he went to find them. He captured my mom and when he found out she was different... But the SSR arrived before he could do anything. They put him in prison for forty years until HYDRA let him out. He went searching for Inhumans again and he found her.
[ Even after all these years, it hurts to talk about it. It might hurt even more now that she understands what her mother went through that day. ]
My mom didn't age. It was part of her gift. So when this monstrous old man saw that she was still young, he— He cut her to pieces. He took parts of her for himself so he could take her gift and be young again, and then he dumped what was left in a ditch for my dad to find.
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What the fuck,
[ Bucky says, and his voice is low and tense and strained. He sounds— angry, but maybe not as shocked as he could be. He knows what HYDRA's like. He was on the inside of it for so long, with a front-row seat to their atrocities. He'd been a part of it. Had perpetrated it. Had tortured targets, and trained others in said torture.
But knowing that something so terrible had happened to the mother of someone he cared for; that she'd been carved up like so much meat on a butcher's block... that was unspeakably awful. If he'd had a more accelerated healing factor, he knows without a doubt that HYDRA would've carved him up over and over to figure out how he worked, too. It was just how they operated. ]
I'm so sorry, Daisy, [ he says again. His arm encircles her, wrapping tighter. ]
I know what HYDRA's like, so I won't say I'm surprised, but— I'm pissed. I can't even imagine how it must've felt, learning that.
[ A beat. ]
What happened to the guy?
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Except for her dad. It had only been a moment and she'd still thought of him as a monster, but she can still recall the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder and the sound of quiet humming as he tried to help her cope with that horrible revelation. ]
He got away with it for 25 years until my dad finally found him. That whole day was... Coulson killed him, but my dad was trying to.
[ She tries to move the tiniest bit closer to Bucky, needing the comfort he offers even if it puts uncomfortable pressure on her arm. The only way she's going to get the next part out is if he doesn't let go. ]
Bucky, I need to tell you something and I can't answer questions about it, not right now. I just need you to understand—
[ What? Why she's as broken as she is? Just what level of trauma he's signing up for with her. They haven't even gone on a real date yet and she's already baring part of her soul to him, which should seem crazy but... doesn't. Even if this doesn't work out, she knows without a shred of doubt that they'll still be in each other's lives. This connection between them is too strong. ]
When we were traveling through the past, we created an alternate timeline, one where Gideon Malick's son never died. He saw me use my power and he— [ Her voice wavers slightly, like a ripple across still water. ] HYDRA families talk, he said. He found that scientist in prison and he learned how to— He did it to me. Not to the same extent, but...
When I wake up and the room's shaking, it's because of him.
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It's worse, knowing that it had also happened to her.
'I'm sorry' has lost all potency; the words feel woollen and meaningless in his mouth, and so he doesn't even try. Everything is inadequate: how does he comfort someone again? Bucky's practically forgotten, when so much of his coping mechanisms have revolved around batting people away.
There's that overwhelming ache in his chest to do something, anything, but even seizing the Dramatic Gesture™ wouldn't sit quite right, either. Taking advantage of a vulnerable moment. It isn't the right time and he doesn't want that moment to be marred with the recollection of this particular conversation, either.
So he just draws Daisy closer. Chin against the top of her head, and he breathes out.
Maybe, admittedly, part of this massive consuming fondness for her is in how fresh it feels. A storm finally breaking after years of simmering pressure. Bucky hasn't been able to care for someone like this in so very, very long; and as much as he's out of practice, he also has so many years to make up for, all that pent-up seratonin winging around with nowhere to go. But chalking it up to that would cheapen it, too. He's pretty sure there's more to it.
Because Bucky would murder this man for her, if he could, if there weren't alternate timelines in the way. The realisation settles in like bricks clicking into place, no ethical bellyaching over it. He would simply close the iron fist of HYDRA around the man's throat and squeeze until he stopped moving. (That irony wouldn't be lost on him, either.) It wouldn't be like all those years being aimed against innocent targets; this target would not be innocent.
But it's not possible and he strangles that anger, swallows it, and then simply says: ]
No questions. Just here if you need me.
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And what she needs from him is for him to just be there with her. By some miracle, he hasn't run from her broken bits yet, even as she keeps revealing more and more to them. Just staying with her despite all the reasons she'd given for him to leave... that's all she needs. So when she hears those words from him, the tension drains out of her body and she feels—
Safe. ]
Thank you.
[ Two words that fail miserably to convey just how grateful she is for this feeling that's filling her up inside. Daisy has always felt physically safe with Bucky, both in that he wouldn't harm her and that he would protect her. But her heart is an entirely different matter. So many things could so easily break this fragile thing growing between them and she's been so worried about it, but now she's a little less so. Because of him. Because of the way Bucky Barnes accepts her.
She's quiet for a few moments before tilting her head back to look up at him. ]
Don't you have a birthday coming up soon?
[ Sorry for the emotional whiplash there, Bucky. ]
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I guess so. March 10th, yeah. Still don't really know how old I'm technically turning. Why?
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[ Does she put a comical amount of emphasis on that last part? Yep, she absolutely does. They need to lighten the mood and joking about his age is a safe space for them. She's already contemplating all the ways she could possibly emphasize his being among the elderly for said birthday celebrations. ]
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Hmm. What do people do in the 2020s to mark their birthdays?
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You're asking the wrong person. I've never done the big party thing, it's usually just dinner with cake if a mission doesn't come up.
[ She doesn't mention that she hadn't had any birthday parties growing up because she hadn't known her real birthday. That's back into the heavy stuff and a whole other kind of trauma.]
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yrs to wrap?
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