[ 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.]
Dinner with cake sounds nice, honestly. I could invite Sam, if you wanted to meet him. I'm— not really one for the big party thing either.
[ A beat, a near-misstep before he tilts his left shoulder into a sheepish shrug. ]
I'm not a fan of crowds, but my invite list would be the saddest thing anyway. Even any acquaintances I know are scattered around the world instead of based here. Barton's in the midwest, Lang's on the west coast, Wanda's over in Europe, even the Asgardians are in Norway, I think Sharon's in DC... there's not much left of anyone I know.
[ Damn, the team really had scattered to the wind, hadn't they? Everyone was off living their own lives and here was Bucky, just trying to figure out how to have one again. ]
Well, it's the quality of friends that counts for things like this, not the quantity. So absolutely invite Sam. He can join me in giving you a whole lot of shit for being an old geezer.
[ Daisy grins suddenly, very pleased with the thought she's just had. ]
[ Oh, she will fight for her share of cake, he doesn't need to worry one bit about that. Food is a very good motivator for one Daisy Johnson. ]
Of course, we can make it ice cream cake. What flavor do you want? Or flavors, I'm pretty sure you can get just about any combo these days.
[ And if he wants something weird, she'll find a place to make it, even if she has to go to the other side of the city. He deserves a good birthday after everything he's been through. ]
[ Oh, the fun she is going to have planning this birthday celebration. He has so much time to make up for and she is now determined to give him some good memories to help counter all the bad.
Her expression shifts from delighted excitement to peaceful happiness. Once upon a time, that question was a devastating one, but not anymore. ]
[ 1988. Oh god, she's a baby. Well— no, she's actually around the same age as what his body ought to be, but the number still feels strange. She was born 71 years after him. Don't think about it for too long, Barnes.
So instead, he just casts a thoughtful look to the ceiling and goes for an astrology joke, from the vaguest thing he can recall of summer signs. Amused: ]
[ If she's not over here feeling weird about him being born in 1917, he can get over her being born in 1988. Their lives are weird, just deal with it, Barnes. ]
A Cancer, I think? Is that the crab? [ Trying to recall a chart she once studied, she scrunches her nose for a moment, then shrugs her good shoulder. ] Astrology's never really been my thing. Probably because I didn't know my actual birthday until I was 26, so I didn't really have a reason to care.
[ She's still feeling good, her mood calm and happy again because of the turn of the conversation. (And also possibly because of the pain meds.) ]
Well, then it's probably a good thing I fed you this morning, huh?
[ He can tell she's already blurring again, getting lightly punchdrunk and loose on her painkillers; an echo of last night. Bucky readjusts his position with a sigh, stretching out so there's less pressure on his ribs.
He's not particularly eager to get into the outside world again — not yet. Not when they're both injured and Daisy, especially, could do with the recovery time. She needs the rest. ]
You wanna nap a bit before heading back into SHIELD? [ He crinkles his nose fondly; remembers an episode of Friends. ] The One With The Nap Partners.
[ Through the thickening blissful fog of painkillers, Daisy recognizes that he's made a reference to something, the phrasing is too particular, but she doesn't know what the reference is to. Mentally, she makes a note to ask him about it later, though she probably won't remember. ]
A nap sounds good... [ She murmurs the words and is out not even ten seconds later, her eyes closing as soon as he suggested the idea. All she needed was permission to drift off; her last thought is of how she wishes it could always be like this. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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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[ A beat, a near-misstep before he tilts his left shoulder into a sheepish shrug. ]
I'm not a fan of crowds, but my invite list would be the saddest thing anyway. Even any acquaintances I know are scattered around the world instead of based here. Barton's in the midwest, Lang's on the west coast, Wanda's over in Europe, even the Asgardians are in Norway, I think Sharon's in DC... there's not much left of anyone I know.
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Well, it's the quality of friends that counts for things like this, not the quantity. So absolutely invite Sam. He can join me in giving you a whole lot of shit for being an old geezer.
[ Daisy grins suddenly, very pleased with the thought she's just had. ]
Besides, fewer people means more cake for me.
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He eats like a pig and so do I, so you'll have to stay on your toes.
[ A beat. ]
Can we make it ice cream cake?
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Of course, we can make it ice cream cake. What flavor do you want? Or flavors, I'm pretty sure you can get just about any combo these days.
[ And if he wants something weird, she'll find a place to make it, even if she has to go to the other side of the city. He deserves a good birthday after everything he's been through. ]
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[ As if she hasn't already, continually, all the time, surprised him. ]
When's your birthday?
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Her expression shifts from delighted excitement to peaceful happiness. Once upon a time, that question was a devastating one, but not anymore. ]
July 2, 1988.
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So instead, he just casts a thoughtful look to the ceiling and goes for an astrology joke, from the vaguest thing he can recall of summer signs. Amused: ]
July 2nd? So what does that make you, a... Leo?
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A Cancer, I think? Is that the crab? [ Trying to recall a chart she once studied, she scrunches her nose for a moment, then shrugs her good shoulder. ] Astrology's never really been my thing. Probably because I didn't know my actual birthday until I was 26, so I didn't really have a reason to care.
[ She's still feeling good, her mood calm and happy again because of the turn of the conversation. (And also possibly because of the pain meds.) ]
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[ He flashes her a grin; a cheesy pun, a cheesy joke, incorrigible as always. ]
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You might feel differently once you've seen me when I'm sleep-deprived and hangry.
[ Not that she's never not sleep-deprived, but add in hunger at the end of a very long day and she's not always her usual charming self. ]
yrs to wrap?
[ He can tell she's already blurring again, getting lightly punchdrunk and loose on her painkillers; an echo of last night. Bucky readjusts his position with a sigh, stretching out so there's less pressure on his ribs.
He's not particularly eager to get into the outside world again — not yet. Not when they're both injured and Daisy, especially, could do with the recovery time. She needs the rest. ]
You wanna nap a bit before heading back into SHIELD? [ He crinkles his nose fondly; remembers an episode of Friends. ] The One With The Nap Partners.
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A nap sounds good... [ She murmurs the words and is out not even ten seconds later, her eyes closing as soon as he suggested the idea. All she needed was permission to drift off; her last thought is of how she wishes it could always be like this. ]