[ There’s so much variety in these rooms as he passes through them. Some are loud and calamitous and violent; others are quieter, bleaker, conversational. Some people’s worlds collapsed with sound and fury, while other hearts broke in almost silence.
He doesn’t linger too long or try to get involved in any of them as he passes through; he’s just trying to find hers.
And when Bucky does finally step into the hangar, the scene he finds is almost disconcertingly understated. Someone standing there wearing Grant Ward’s face (except it can’t be a man, because that particular man was dead, he knew that much). Bucky’s gaze is drawn to the young woman on her knees in front of not-Ward, listening to the soft whispered Please take me back as he reaches for her face,
(pretty like the Skye, a flower, Daisy)
and Bucky walks right past that looping scene and their murmured conversation, to the other woman in the room. She’s older, her hair different from the version of herself talking to Hive. She’s more worn from years of experience and pain and happiness: there’s more laughter-lines and stress-lines alike etched into her face. His Daisy. The one he knows, now crumpled in on herself, hands over her ears, and his heart is cracking open at the sight.
He’d learned from personal experience that if you don’t try to disrupt the loop, it just keeps going, and so he ignores the rest of the scene. So after a moment, there’s a figure beside her and a warm hand at her cheek; not Hive’s, this time. Bucky’s voice, muffled through her clenched hands and her own murmuring anguish: ]
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He doesn’t linger too long or try to get involved in any of them as he passes through; he’s just trying to find hers.
And when Bucky does finally step into the hangar, the scene he finds is almost disconcertingly understated. Someone standing there wearing Grant Ward’s face (except it can’t be a man, because that particular man was dead, he knew that much). Bucky’s gaze is drawn to the young woman on her knees in front of not-Ward, listening to the soft whispered Please take me back as he reaches for her face,
(pretty like the Skye, a flower, Daisy)
and Bucky walks right past that looping scene and their murmured conversation, to the other woman in the room. She’s older, her hair different from the version of herself talking to Hive. She’s more worn from years of experience and pain and happiness: there’s more laughter-lines and stress-lines alike etched into her face. His Daisy. The one he knows, now crumpled in on herself, hands over her ears, and his heart is cracking open at the sight.
He’d learned from personal experience that if you don’t try to disrupt the loop, it just keeps going, and so he ignores the rest of the scene. So after a moment, there’s a figure beside her and a warm hand at her cheek; not Hive’s, this time. Bucky’s voice, muffled through her clenched hands and her own murmuring anguish: ]
Daisy. Hey. It’s me. I’m here.