This Is Stella's Reality

March 11, 2015 PT. 3

The team sat in a quinjet, bored and waiting for Steve and Tony to finish berating senators, congressmen, the president, and Nick Fury. Outrage poured over the internet as Tony had once again interrupted a certain intern's homework in order to secretly leak all of SHIELD's files.

Natasha had done something similar the day Bucky was saved, but Tony had been able to locate Hydra's sealed database within the SHIELD vault. With JARVIS and Peter's help, all of that information was released.

Our conditions were simple: SHIELD would be dissolved. The Avengers would become free agents of their own will. We would not be contacted by the United States government unless global catastrophe was imminent.

Steve and Tony had been on the phone, shouting and pacing outside for nearly an hour now. However, the inside of the quinjet was silent.

Bruce was cowering under a mountain of pillow, listening to music through headphones as Thor rocked him gently in his arms. Clint and Natasha were sorting through the mess of our weapons. Sam was sleeping gently on a row of seats. And Bucky held me securely against his chest as we laid on the cold metal floor.

He trembled slightly, and I dared not press his thoughts. I did not want to invade his privacy. I knew he hated sharing his trauma. All I could do for him was hold him close and press kisses to his skin.

My throat was sore from when the Winter Soldier had choked me, but I didn't mention it to Bucky. He knew. His fingers ghosted over the purple bruises that had begun to form, lingering for a moment where he knew his fingers had been. I leaned into his touch, silently telling him it was okay.

Steve and Tony triumphantly waltzed into the quinjet. Tony clapped his hands together, "Well, ladies and gentlemen, we are free agents." He tapped Bucky's foot. "And you, sir, will be happy to know the global governments have agreed to extradite and prosecute all outed Hydra agents to the fullest extent of their laws."

Bucky nodded, but he stayed silent. Steve stood over us and produced the red notebook from behind his back. He held it out to Bucky, "What do you want to do with this?" He asked.

"Burn it," Bucky's voice was hoarse. I curled closer to his side.

Steve nodded and walked back outside. "Come on," he called over his shoulder. I looked up at Bucky. His face was pale, sickly and stricken with grief.

Slowly, I sat up. The team exited the quinjet. Tony shook Sam awake and dragged him to the sun setting above us. Thor carried Bruce in his arms, gently lifting him from his cave of solitude.

Bucky's eyes shut so tightly, his whole face creased with effort. I brushed my fingertips over the lines in his skin. My lips leaned down to kiss his nose. His features softened a bit. Carefully, he opened his eyes. "I'm so sorry, angel." His hand reached up to brush through my hair.

I smiled down at him. "There's nothing to be sorry for, my love." My voice was nearly inaudible as it rasped from my burning throat.

He winced, hearing the damage he had done to my windpipe. I shook my head at him, Stop. I placed my hand to his forehead and smoothed his eyebrows. Nothing is your fault. I'm fine. You're fine. Everyone is fine.

I love you. I'm so fucking sorry, his thoughts were laced with sadness.

My eyes watered as I watched his face change again. His shoulder shook with the sobs that forced their way out of him. I fell into his arms and let him cry. I knew he needed to, no matter how much it upset me.

We stayed like that for a few minutes until Bucky couldn't cry anymore. His face was stained with salty rivers that dried and stuck to his skin. I wiped my thumbs over them and kissed his cheeks.