James Bucky Barnes, the former soldier, doesn't think he's got any gentleness left in him. But Grace Juniper Cunningham, the former child prodigy, strongly disagrees.
;
"𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯."
"𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴�...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Stark and I were trying to kill each other when Steve found us and broke us up. I couldn't remember why or how, but I wrecked his armor worse than the explosion had, and Steve wrapped an arm around me to support my injured leg. I shook him off.
Stark left, sparking and clanking. Steve tried to steer me back toward the hallway with him.
"I don't want to leave her alone," I said thickly.
"Okay. You wanna stay with her until SHIELD gets here?"
"Yeah."
I sank back down onto the floor. I couldn't look at her. I pulled my knees up to stare at them, just so I'd have something to train my eyes on, but there were bloodstains on my pants from when I'd knelt to check her pulse. I closed my eyes instead.
Steve sat right next to me. He didn't say anything. I didn't want him to.
When SHIELD arrived, I told them what happened. I'd have to do the paperwork later too. I wondered how many times I'd have to retell it.
No one spoke back on the Quinjet either as we waited to take off. Steve and Sam patted me on the back sympathetically when I passed them. Vision shot me concerned glances.
I wanted to be alone. I was starting to wish I'd stayed in the desert. I wanted to walk and walk and walk until I finally collapsed. Would I collapse eventually? Would the serum let me rest like that? Or would I just keep going until I died of old, old, old age?
"It's her, right?" I asked Colin when he limped onto the jet, half supported, half dragged by Natasha. She dumped him onto a seat. "It's not a clone?"
He shook his head solemnly. "I've never seen another one of her."
"Me neither," I said. Never had. Never would again.
I stood up from my seat. I needed to pilot. I needed to think about something else. I needed no one to bother me. Sam had clasped Natasha comfortingly on the shoulder, and she stood up at the same time as me, shrugging him off, apparently with the same urge as me.
"Oh. Go ahead," she said, nodding toward the cockpit when we made eye contact.
"Come and co-pilot," I said. "You're the only one I trust not to talk."
I kept eyeing Steve, dreading a speech. He wouldn't give one, though. Not when he knew what it would do to me right now.
"You sure you're okay to fly a jet right now?" Natasha muttered to me as we went toward the cockpit.
"No." I blinked and saw Grace's body again, like it was seared inside my eyelids.
"Me neither. I want to hit something, but everything in here is valuable."
"I'm not." I stopped and crouched down a little, at a good swing level for her. "Hit me if you want."
I didn't need to tell her twice—a second later, her fist connected with my face, and I felt blood pouring from my nose. "You feel better?" I asked her, pulling my shirt up toward the bleeding.
