Radioactive | Bucky Barnes

THE FIRST AVENGERS: CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Back at the camp, Peggy stood stiffly in front of a cluster of senior officers. Her eyes locked on Senator Brandt as he delivered the news in a clipped, cold tone.

"Captain Steven G. Rogers went missing behind enemy lines on the 3rd of last week."

"I regret to report," Peggy added sharply, but Brandt wasn't listening.

"Corporal, go get yourself a coffee," Brandt said to the younger soldier in the tent. As soon as they were alone, the gloves came off.

"You're lucky Stark's a civilian. I can't touch him. But you—you should be in irons."

"You'll have my resignation by morning," Peggy said flatly.

"I can probably make it so you avoid court martial."

"With respect, sir, I don't regret my actions. And neither do Captain Rogers or Agent Stark."

Brandt scoffed. "I took a chance on you, Agent Carter. I expected something like this from Stark, but not you. And now, men are dead. All because you had a crush."

Peggy met his sneer with steel. "I could learn a thing or two from Agent Rhiley. I had faith in them. I still do."

Brandt rolled his eyes. "Well, I hope that comfort keeps you warm when they shut this division down."

And then—commotion.

Boots pounding. Voices rising. Peggy stepped out of the tent, eyes drawn to the camp entrance.

They were walking in. Steve, James, Rhiley—and a crowd of ragged, rescued men behind them.

Steve's uniform was torn and bloodied. His shield was battered. But he walked like a man who had just rewritten history.

Phillip Brandt stood frozen.

Steve saluted. "Some of these men need medical attention. I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action."

Rhiley stepped in beside him, arms folded. "I'm not surrendering myself to anything."

Peggy bit down a smile.

"That won't be necessary," Brandt muttered, annoyed. "Just how many orders do you plan on disobeying, Captain?"

Steve grinned. "Yes, sir."

As Brandt stalked off, Peggy glanced at Rhiley—who, despite everything, looked completely unbothered.

-

-

-

Later, James and Rhiley found themselves at the edge of camp, sitting on the same fallen tree where she and Steve had spoken before the rescue.

"So... Steve and Peggy?" James nudged.

"They're disgusting," Rhiley said immediately. "Like watching two lovesick teenagers orbit around each other."

"What does that make us?"

Rhiley raised a brow.

James threw up his hands. "Hey, I'm not hiding anything. I like you. I really like you. I'm not dancing around that."

"You never have," she said. "You've always been... honest."

"And patient. Don't forget that."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"I'll wait," James said.

"For what?"

"For you to tell me how you feel."

Rhiley looked down at her hands. They still felt hot. "James... we're in the middle of a war."

"So? Every war needs a love story."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Save that line for Peggy and Steve."

"You think I don't see it? You push people away before they get too close. You wear this armor like it'll protect you from ever being loved."

Silence.

"And if you knew the things I've done..." she whispered, voice cracking. "You'd think twice. You'd run."

"I don't want someone else," he said, softly but surely. "I want you. Exactly as you are. Powers, scars, fire—whatever you think is too much."

Rhiley blinked at him, chest rising slow and unsteady.

Rhiley sat quietly on the fallen tree trunk, staring off into the woods at nothing in particular. Her hands rested on her knees, palms scarred and raw, still tingling with the faint echo of the fire she'd pushed back. The world felt quieter now—like the storm had passed but left her wrung out in its wake.

James sat beside her, arms resting loosely on his thighs. He glanced at her, unsure of where to start or if he even should. But the silence wasn't sharp. It wasn't uncomfortable. It was just... full. Full of things they weren't saying.

"You scared the hell out of me back there," he said at last.

Rhiley didn't look at him. "Which part?"

"All of it." He gave a half-laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You walking into fire like it meant nothing. Dropping like you did after. I didn't even know if you were breathing."

"I was." Her voice was quiet, steady.

James nodded. "Still. I panicked."

She finally turned to him. Her expression softened. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah, well. You did."

They sat there a moment longer. The camp buzzed distantly behind them—shouting, boots on gravel, the occasional clang of metal. But none of it reached this corner of quiet.

"You don't have to explain," James said after a moment. "What you can do. Where it comes from. All that."

Rhiley tilted her head toward him. "You're not curious?"

"I'm not entitled to it." He shrugged. "If you want to tell me, I'll listen. But you don't owe me that."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It eased something tight in her chest.

"You're the first person who hasn't looked at me like I'm dangerous," she admitted.

"I've seen dangerous." James glanced at her hand, still faintly marked with heat. "That's not what I see when I look at you."

Rhiley looked away, blinking hard. "You should be careful with words like that."

"Why?"

"Because people say stuff like that, and then they change their minds."

James leaned back slightly on his hands, gazing up at the trees above them. "Well, I don't plan on changing my mind."

Rhiley didn't answer right away, but her shoulder brushed his. Not on purpose. Not on purpose.

They sat there like that, shoulders barely touching, and it felt more grounding than any words either of them could've said.

After a while, James spoke again. "You think Steve's gonna get himself court-martialed?"

Rhiley snorted. "Probably. But they'll pin a medal on him first."

"Reckless idiot."

"Takes one to know one."

They fell into easy silence again. This time, it wasn't heavy at all.

Eventually, James stood, brushing off his palms. "You ready to head back?"

Rhiley looked up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Yeah."

He offered his hand.

She hesitated for half a second before taking it.

When he pulled her to her feet, he didn't let go right away. And she didn't ask him to.