The Shapeshifter - A Bucky Barnes Fanfiction

Prologue

For how much Steve wanted to deny it, the time to face the inevitable had come in the end.

Five years after the blip, five years after the biggest, toughest defeat he'd endured, he knew deep inside his soul it wasn't okay to let things be.

Natasha had fallen into a deep depression, living by herself in the compound and resisting Steve's attempts almost daily to keep everyday life as pleasant as possible even in the obvious unpleasantness of the situation. She'd started sleeping less and less, eating badly, pushing poor Steve away and trying to find reason in why— oh, why, she'd been spared and others not. She worked herself until her libs fell limp, arms aching from all the ballet training but it wasn't enough.

She kept trying to find ways to help others, even if nothing could have repaired what humanity— no, every form of life had lost five years prior.

The constant contact with the remaining Avengers, every hour of the day and night, had transformed Natasha into a ghost of herself.

Rhodey kept trying to talk some sense into her, God forbid he left one of the kindest souls to be swallowed whole by her shadows, but even him had given up eventually. Pleasure contacts became limited, and so did the few words that Natasha used on a daily basis.

So, when Scott Lang came bearing unexpected news, a single silver lining came shining through a wall made of despair and guilt.

Even Tony— fuck, Tony— agreed to help his former teammates and overall, the universe.

Steve's hand gripped the driving wheel tightly, knuckles turning white from pressure and he swore, while the thick trees allowed the last rays of sunshine to burn his tired eyes, he was definitely not ready for what lay ahead.

The earthy ground of the road kept raising dust as he sped, crunching noise echoing in the otherwise silent car until the path cleared, and through a tunnel of oaks a cabin finally came into view.

Its wooden frame, weathered by years of existence, embraced the rustic charm of the countryside. Tall poppies, defiant in their crimson glory, flourished around it, their petals a vibrant contrast to the cabin's earthy tones. It seemed to beckon with open arms, offering refuge and respite from the world's cares. It was a place where time slowed, where memories whispered in the wind and Steve breathed out almost in relief at the sight of it.

The sun's fading rays caressed the cabin's façade, casting a warm, golden glow that softened its rough edges. It stood as a sentinel of solitude, a sanctuary in the wilderness, a home.

"Wow," Steve murmured, voice low and husky from lack of use, the wooden house staring right back at him from a clearing so green the sunset couldn't alter its brightness, only enhancing those red, tall poppies scattered about. "If only Sam could see what you've done with this place."

He decreased speed, his feet firm against the brakes as he reached the end of a rocky track near a small shed, painted white and deep, rich red that stood adjacent to the cabin. Along its side, a few birdhouses hung in silent testimony to a simpler, gentler time. As Steve stepped out of his car, gaze wandering around the flowery bushes, the daisies surrounding the entire property, his breath hitched as his eyes met a pair of big, doe-like emerald ones.

"Oh..." He exhaled, his heart leaping in his stomach as he took in the tiny human staring at him with his mouth agape from the porch.

A fiery red nest of curls fell on his forehead and a small car, bright blue and monstrosity-like, stilled in his hand in the second it took Steve to close the driver's door as gently as possible.

"Huh?" The kid breathed out, sitting on his calves, his stare painfully locked in his, a pint-sized sentinel on the porch. Steve swore his heart had its own heart attack as he asked sheepishly, "Are you here to take mommy away?"

Steve shook his head slowly, not daring to step forward, not knowing if he was even able to.

"You better not," he continued more confidently, cocking his head to the side. "Or I'll fight ya, Mr. America."

"You've grown so much, Eddie." Steve said amusedly, wondering if a kid could even hear from such a distance.

"So does mommy say," the kid blinked, then continued with a nod, shrugging nonchalantly like it was the most obvious thing. "But I still can't go to bed after nine."

Steve smirked. "Well, I don't go to bed after nine either."

"She's right, you're an old man." He sighed, latching his voice with a dramatic flair Steve was so damn familiar with before resuming moving his tiny car back and forth with purpose on the floor. "You can come closer, ya know? I don't bite."

Tony was right.

God, Steve hated to admit that Tony had spoken the truth, that he knew something the others didn't, and that it wasn't about time travel or quantum physics.

"You'll regret going out there," he said, shaking his head. "She's finally free."

But Steve insisted under Natasha's stunned gaze, "We need all the help we can get, Tony. You know it."

"She's a mother, what do you think will happen when you go out there and take Azzurra back for another fight right in front of her kid? He's almost eight now, Rogers; he'll know what you want her to do."

Was their goal worth stripping such a special kid of his mother? Steve had wrestled with this question throughout his journey, spanning from the bustling streets of New York to the tranquil embrace of Greenbush, Virginia. He came down to a single answer, unyielding and absolute. Yes, it was worth convincing her to come back for a last fight for the greater good, that she was their friend, their teammate, a mother who'd want better for her son.

But looking back at Eddie's unruly head of curls as he walked toward the porch, he felt his guts twist, his heart ache, and in a kid's eyes Steve saw the pain of a much older person. It was a subtle yet unmistakable ache, a reflection of the turmoil lurking beneath his naive facade.

In those eyes, one could sense a longing, an unspoken yearning for something more, as though he had glimpsed the weight of the world through the eyes of the grown-ups around him.

"Mommy said you'd come one day," Eddie murmured just as Steve stopped, towering over his figure and leaving his shadow covering his tiny body.

"She did?"

"Yeah. She said you can't let things go because you're an a—"

"I'm sure she used other words."

Eddie glanced up at him, "Her thoughts were loud."

No arguing with such a brilliant answer, no arguing with the knowledge that Eddie's abilities were now far beyond Steve's understanding.

"Where is your mommy?" Steve asked.

"She's waiting for you inside, Mr. America." He replied slowly, sighing softly before sitting back on his calves, the blue monstrosity now abandoned on the floor. "When you take her away, please look after her. Give her some candies, I dunno. She always looks after me, but I can't really fight ya."

"I'll take your mommy back to you, Eddie. I promise, she'll be fine."

Eddie dipped his chin once, a solemn agreement sealed between them. Yet, his gaze remained locked onto Steve's, unwavering, as though harboring a secret, something only he knew.

But that was the truth.

The only lie laid in what would happen after.