•{Condemned}•
/kənˈdɛmd/
/Adjective/
Sentenced to a particular punishment.
She has a home. She has a family. But what happens when a ghost from her past returns? Will she throw it all away for him? Can she find it in her to forgive him?
In which B...
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[26] •Almost•
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SHE WAKES in the morning, her eyes landing on a sleeping Bucky strewn across the floor. She smiles slightly. Inhaling deeply, she arches her back, stretching her stiff muscles. Her head feels lighter. Not wanting to wake him, she carefully slips out of the bed, sliding open the wardrobe as quietly as she can manage. She risks a glance back to the sleeping man, still shut eyed. She pulls out a hoodie and a pair of leggings and pads to the bathroom.
She shuts the door softly, tugging on her clothes and brushing her teeth, not bothering doing her hair, except to pull it into an untidy ponytail. Splashing a handful of water on her face, she steps back into her room, to find the floor clear of any body.
She glances around the empty room before walking to the elevator. She goes to the lab first, due a checkup. Her interaction with Bucky had eased her mind. She feels more... like herself.
"El!" Shuri sings from behind her desk, looking up from the iPad she was entranced in.
El holds no anger for her friend after her sleep, offering her a tired smile. "Hey."
"Happy birthday," a familiar voice greets from behind her.
She turns to Bucky, unsure of the appropriate response, but Shuri interrupts pulling her into an eager embrace. "The cake is outside, but your present," she pulls away to pick up a wrapped gift from behind the desk.
"You didn't have to get me one," the teen awkwardly replies, followed by a rushed thanks.
Shuri practically tugs it from her grip, tearing the wrapping off. El's eyes fall onto a knitted sweater, colourful wools entwined in it. "It's a traditional Wakandan sweater," she chimes.
El studies her, unsure of whether she's joking. "Thank you, really."
Brushing off another few eager happy birthdays, she slides onto the metal table. "Can I use my powers yet?" She inquires quietly.
Shuri narrows her eyes. "I'm not sure if it would just worsen your symptoms."
"What if it did the opposite?" She juts in quickly. The princess pauses. El continues, "Last night I used them a little in my sleep, maybe it's just coincidence but I feel better I guess."
Her friend chews at her bottom lip absently. "That might be a possibility. There's only one way to find out."
Bucky runs a hand through his hair. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?"
"Everything we do is dangerous," El mentions pointedly. He sighs.
Deciding there's no time like the present, the girl raises her hands, closing her eyes as she draws her energy to the tips of her fingers. Her lips almost pull upwards, the warm buzz familiar to her.
She breathes deeply, exhaling the power to the surface of her skin, trailing up her arms. She straightens, her body growing stronger with it. Her creased forehead relaxes as she feels the constant throb in her head almost disappear. She holds the energy for a few seconds before she opens her eyes, unclenching her fists. The energy becoming harder to contain, she allows it to dissipate within her.
Both Shuri and Bucky stare at her with raises eyebrows. She grins. "I'm a genius."
"Incredible," the princess marvels, "it's regenerating your energy internally. Can you do this with physical wounds?"
El shakes her head, for a while she had thought it might work but she had tried it once and it hadn't. She sighs a breath of relief, the dull ache her body had endured the past few weeks, non existent.
>>^^<<^^>>
The Wakandan princess spent the day dragging her around the city, telling everyone it was El's birthday. She appreciated the effort, immensely, but spending the day with Shuri's friends wasn't exactly entirely appealing to her. At least not the whole day.
So she bid a sincere thank you and ambled back to the facility on her own, finding Bucky sitting on the steps, turning an A4 brown envelope over in his hands. He looks up, placing it beside him and pulling his lips into a small smile when he sees her.
She returns the gesture, casually letting herself down beside him. "How are you?" She asks seriously after a pause. He glances up, mulling over her words. He can tell from her concerned eyes it's not a 'I'm good' answer she's searching for.
He tilts his head. "I'm OK," he nods, pressing his lips in a line.
"You don't have to be, you know," she replies, glancing out to the city. "I get it. You don't have to act OK for me. I want to help you too."
In any ordinary situation, this statement might have brought amusement to the adult, receiving this advice from a new sixteen year old. But it isn't a normal situation. And she's right. She does get it. And whether he wants to admit it or not, he needs just as much help as her, maybe more. So he doesn't laugh at her. Instead, he replies with a small, appreciative smile.
She nods and watches him pick up the envelope. "I have something for you," he ponders unsurely. "For your birthday. It's not much of a present, but I'm not exactly up to speed on picking out birthday presents."
She blows a soft amused breath. She accepts the envelope, carefully opening it and pulling out a few single sheets, one name written across the top.
Johnson.
She blinks, her mouth drying. Bucky studies her, her shoulders tense. He isn't sure what her reaction would be. Her eyes flit up at him impassively.
She looks back to the photo, a recent photo. The pages are taken up with information and security camera photos.
"Natasha told me the you lost the files, something about an evil robot," he trails off toward the end. He studies her. "I don't know, I just thought you should have them, you know in case you ever wanted to see them or your Dad's grave. I just thought you should know where it is."
His eyes scan over her still impassive expression, her teeth clamped around her bottom lip. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
"I'm sorry," he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not very good at this, I just thought, I don't know, I don't know how to do this. If this was the wrong thing to do-"
She can't stifle the laugh that she releases. "Relax, Buck."
He breathes a heavy sigh of relief. "Right."
She smiles absently, reassuring him with slightly squinted eyes. "Thank you."
He nods stiffly. She glances away, JB cantering down the steps, sliding to a stop between the pair. "You weren't really creative with the name were you?" He teases, gesturing to the pet.
She rolls her eyes, her cheeks ringing crimson. "Shut up, I was emotional," she tilts her head, "And hormonal. Besides, you should be honoured to share your name with a legend like him."
The older man chuckles quietly, shaking his head. "It's nice here," he says after a few moments silence. "Peaceful."
She inclines her head. "Yeah, almost makes you forget about everything."
