The Archangel (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter Forty

Time seemed to stand still as the realization dawned on him, but he was paralyzed with disbelief, with denial. She couldn't be dead, she couldn't be gone, it wasn't possible, he would know, he would have felt it.

But he did know and he had felt it. Felt as her heart stopped beating next to his, felt as their joined soul fractured, felt as his heart shattered. The proof lay right in front of him, where she still lay lifeless in his arms, but he wasn't strong enough to confront it.

He knew, somewhere in the logical part of his head, that she was gone, that he couldn't stay there, that the sun was hot and there was no water, that he had no idea when or even if help would come. But the logical part of him wasn't what he was listening to right now. He wouldn't leave her, he couldn't break that promise. He had made her so many promises and wasn't certain exactly how many he'd be able to keep, but he wouldn't leave her, not now, not after everything they'd been through together.

It might have been minutes or maybe hours later, that the buzzing in his head started. He ignored it, it was persistent and annoying, but he wanted nothing to do with it, too focused on denying the truth to give it any attention. Eventually, it was the ever growing pain in his chest that drew him out of his denial, the pain where her heartbeat used to sit. Suddenly, he couldn't deny it anymore, his Angel was gone. No, not just gone, dead.

The realization pushed through his shock, and with it, a torrent of suppressed emotion came with it. Pain the likes of which he had never felt before and hoped to never feel again. Clutching her body close, he threw his head back and howled his anguish into the sky.

His dulled senses never picked up the voices of the Wakandans as they searched through the wreckage not a half mile east. It was as if he existed outside of his body, not really processing what was happening outside the little bubble he had created around himself and what remained of her. There might have been people coming, he didn't really care. Were those voices? He didn't try to make out what they were saying. Was that his name? So what if it was, he couldn't really be sure who he was anymore. It was supposed to be Angel by his side as they fought together, maybe even died together. He didn't know how to do it alone.

A hand on his shoulder brought him forcefully back to the present. Why were they tugging at him? He fought against their hold, not recognizing any of the familiar faces as friends. "I won't leave her!" He roared.

"Sergeant Barnes! It's Okoye, put the knife down," the woman in front of him urged, hands up in a nonthreatening manner. Confused, he looked down, unaware that he had picked up a knife at all. "Sergeant Barnes? James?" He flinched as she called him by his real name, "are you hurt?"

He didn't respond to her question, "I won't leave her."

"We are here to bring you home, Sergeant. Both of you." He glanced up into her face and for the first time realized that she was also grieving the loss of her friend.

He dropped the knife carelessly next to him and returned his gaze to Angel's face. Holding her body to his chest and balancing her knees with his mangled metal arm, he cradled her wings just as he used to, her head resting on his shoulder as if she were sleeping. He stood, and after a long moment, said, "take us home, Okoye."

Mindlessly, he followed the Dora Milaje warriors and their general to whatever flier they had used to get there. The flight was both eternal and short, none of the warriors attempted to approach him—possibly still wary of him attacking, but more likely to give him the space he needed. He hadn't relinquished his grasp since she had died, he stood the entire plane trip with his other half in his arms, using every ounce of his strength to keep himself standing while the rest of him fell apart.

He didn't notice the flier had landed until the doors opened. Off to the side, a minuscule part of him noticed the quinjet, so they had made it after all. His strength was sapped as he disembarked the flier in front of the palace. Looking down into her face, he whispered, "we're home, Angel, we're home."

Tears slipped from the corner of his eyes as they closed. He was so tired, and maybe this was all a dream, just a terrible nightmare. His legs finally gave out and he allowed his battered body to drop, hoping that if this wasn't a dream, that he would never wake. The shouting voices around him muffled as his vision descended to darkness, and then were silenced altogether. Quiet. Peaceful.

***

Several Wakandans ran toward the flier that had just arrived. Steve turned to see the commotion and immediately started running too as he watched the bodies of his friends hit the tarmac. It didn't matter that he could run faster than the Wakandans, they got there first and already had them both on a hovering stretcher when he got to their side. Angel was in clearly worse shape but Bucky didn't look too good either.

"Stay here, Captain, we will do our best, but you will only get in the way." One of the Wakandans said as they rushed inside, the stretcher matching their pace.

Okoye put a hand on his shoulder, "Bucky will be fine, he was conscious until just now."

"And Angel?" He asked. Her silence was answer enough. "I thought you said the wreckage spread across a square mile? How did you know where to find them?"

"We didn't. We were doing a grid search through the wreckage when we heard the wolf howl. It is not a sound one would wish to hear but it lead us to them."

Steve sighed at her words, glad that they were able to find them but not under the circumstances. He slowly followed after where the Wakandans had disappeared, he didn't want to be in the way, but he had to be near enough to hear the verdict.

He rounded the corner just in time to see the Wakandan doctors' face drop and move away from the gurney that held Angel. Seeing him through the window, the doctor shook her head. There was nothing they could do except pronounce time of death.

A sorrow filled him that he was familiar with, he had lost friends and soldiers in battle before, this was no different.

The doctor joined him in the hallway outside the advanced med bay. "I'm sorry, Captain, there's was nothing we could have done even if we got her here still alive. The nature of the wound and her unique atomical nature make it impossible."

He nodded his understanding, "what about Bucky?"

She sighed, "he's unconscious right now, dehydrated. Best estimate, they were stranded for three hours without water in a severe heatwave. He's got some minor bruises and cuts, you know about his arm. As for his mental state? That is to be determined when he wakes." After a brief pause, she suggested, "you should be there, it will be hard enough for him with his wife gone."

"Wait, wife? Buck isn't married." Steve adamantly insisted, "I would know."

Her head tilted and eyebrows scrunched, "he did not tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Your friend and Angel were married in Wakandan tradition, it is not legally binding in your country, however it is spiritually binding."

"What does that mean?" Steve asked, so confused.

The doctor looked sympathetic. "They bound their souls together in the eyes of Bast. He may not be the same man that you remember without her."