The Archangel (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter Forty One

*Bucky POV*

Opening his eyes, he was disoriented by the blast of bright sunlight that hit his face. The call of gulls hit his ears along with the rhythmic sound of crashing waves. Sitting up, he realized he must've fallen asleep, that was the only explanation for suddenly appearing on a beach somewhere. Looking around, there was nothing in sight aside from the beach and the ocean, but there was a second beach chair next to him; empty.

Then he heard a voice call to him, "Bucky!" That voice made his heart hurt and soar with joy all at once. Looking up, she had a brilliant smile on her face and held two glasses in her hand, both fruity drinks but only hers had the umbrella in it. "Here's yours, I hope you like Pina Coladas."

"Hey," he stuttered over himself as he accepted the drink. The sounds of gunshots and the smell of death and the feel of blood on his skin still lingered, like his memories from his time as the Winter Soldier.

"Hey yourself, soldier," she sauntered behind him, pecked his cheek, and lounged next to him in the beach chair, wings fanned out behind her. Snippets of memory flashed across his mind, vacant eyes, bullet holes, blood everywhere. Her head turned to look at him, skin pale, eyes dead, and smiled. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

He blinked a few times, her color becoming vibrant, eyes blazing amber, wings lush and whole. "No, it's just—it's nothing." Some small part of him knew it wasn't nothing.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he still couldn't feel that second heartbeat he had become so accustomed to in no more than a week. Somewhere in his mind, he recognized that he couldn't smell the salt of the sea or taste the Pina Colada in his hand.

"Bucky, you know you can't stay here." She teased, sipping on her drink.

"Why not? We're here together, aren't we?"

"For a visit, yes, and I'm glad you're here, but you can't stay, not yet."

"This isn't real." He stated, not really knowing if it was or wasn't and not really wanting to know the truth either way. He was content here, he didn't want to leave. Here, he could deny what had happened with absolute certainty, until he couldn't.

She shook her head sadly, "no. This place is somewhere between the dreaming and the dead." He found that he didn't care. He savored the moments of peace that had been robbed from him in the waking world, embraced what he knew would be gone when he woke.

Suddenly it was brighter and he couldn't see the beach, he felt soft breath against his cheek as Angel leaned over and whispered in his ear, "it's time. Be strong, my love. I am with you till the end."

He caressed her face like it would be the last time, "I don't want to leave you."

She smiled gently, "you won't be. I'll be waiting for you, when you're ready."

"Please don't leave," he begged. "I'm ready now!"

"No, you're not, and that's alright." She tilted his face to look her in the eye, hers were so brilliant now, so pure, "I'm willing to wait, just don't forget me, James."

"Never," he promised.

The fantasy faded and suddenly his eyes were opening in the real world. Shooting straight up, his mind still foggy with confusion, he asked, "where's Angel?" Looking around, the only one there was Steve, who was sitting in a chair next to where he was laying on a gurney.

Steve looked into his friend's eyes and suddenly Bucky didn't want the answer. He started shaking his head violently, denying the truth even as he read it in Steve's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Buck, she was gone before they got there."

He clutched at his chest, right where her heartbeat used to rest, as the pain spiked. It took him a moment to respond after the pain subsided, "I thought it was a dream." His heart broke all over again. Wetness rolled down his cheek but he didn't care. The one person he thought he could grow old with or die with had left this world without him. To fulfill his promise to her, he'd have to keep going, alone, he didn't know how to do it alone.

Steve must've seen the vacant look in his eye and was trying to draw his attention back from his thoughts, "how ya feelin', Buck?"

"Hollow," he breathed, barely vocalizing the response.

"I get it, Buck, after Peggy—"

"Don't." Bucky interrupted, "don't . . . compare them. What you had with Peggy and what I had with Angel couldn't be more different."

"I know you were close, but—"

"No, you don't." He interrupted again. Steve didn't understand—couldn't understand—what he was going through, "we literally shared a soul, I felt her die! To have a second heart beat right next to yours, and then for it to be silenced . . . you have no idea how that feels!"

Steve nodded, "you're right, I don't. But I'm not gonna say you're broken."

Bucky scoffed, "yeah? Well, I am." He took a moment to collect his thoughts but they just kept circling to the promise he had made Angel. Finally, he said, "I'm done, no more fighting, no more wars. I just wanted peace, Steve . . . and for a moment, I had it. Now I'm back at the start and I don't know who I am anymore. Tell the world whatever the hell you like, but the man I was died with Angel."

They sat in silence as Steve took in his words. This wasn't the Bucky he knew, the friend who was by his side come hell or high water. "Where will you go?" he finally asked.

"I made her a promise. After the funeral, I intend to see it through. You won't be able to find me, so promise me you won't look for me."

"I won't. So long as you make me one in return," Steve stated, Bucky didn't respond as he waited for the request. "Stay safe, and no matter where you are in the world, if you need me or the Avengers, you call."

"I'll try."

"That's good enough for me." The door opening drew both of their attention to Shuri who stood by the doorway holding a metal case. "Don't leave without saying goodbye." Steve said, gently squeezing his good shoulder. Bucky gave a sharp nod and watched him leave through the same door.

Shuri waited until after the door had closed behind Steve to glance up, but then she quickly looked down at her shoes. Bucky swung his legs over the side of the gurney and managed to quirk his lips up in a halfhearted attempt at a smile. "Hey, kid."

When Shuri looked up again, her eyes were filmed over with unshed tears. Without thinking about it, he offered out his good arm and she stepped into his one-armed embrace. "I miss her." She sniffed.

"Me too, kid, me too."

After a long moment, Shuri pulled away. "I'm glad that you're alright." To that, he had no response. She fiddled with the handle of the case that she had brought before explaining, "last time I saw her," she had to pause to compose herself as she placed the case on the open space of the gurney, "she, uhm," Shuri snapped open the latches and lifted the lid, "she asked me to make this for you."

Gazing inside, his eyes caught on the gold color in the joints. "Is that . . . ?" He couldn't seem to finish the question.

"From her feathers?" Shuri nodded, "she insisted."