The long lost Barnes

Acceptance

The tension in the air was palpable—like the very ground beneath their feet might crack at any moment. Bucky's eyes locked on Leia as the gunshot rang out. Time seemed to slow, his body reacting instinctively to protect her. He barely had time to think before he was moving.

His mind screamed, No. Not again. He couldn't lose her.

With one swift motion, Bucky dove toward Leia, tackling her to the ground. They hit the cold, unforgiving concrete with a thud, but it was enough. The bullet that had been aimed at Leia missed by mere inches, whizzing past them and embedding itself in the far wall.

Leia gasped as they fell, her body pressed against his, the shock of the moment making her heart race. Bucky didn't waste a second. He kept his arms tightly around her, instinctively shielding her as the world around them erupted into chaos.

The Avengers were moving in—Natasha and Clint were already at the entrance, weapons raised, scanning for Hydra agents. Steve and the others were closing in from all directions, but Bucky didn't care about anything except Leia. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths as he lifted his head to look at her, eyes wild with panic.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the sound of rushing footsteps, gunfire, and explosions fading into the background. It felt as though the universe had compressed everything down to this single, fragile instant—the two of them, together, alive.

"I won't let them take you again," Bucky breathed, his voice thick with emotion. His hands tightened around her, his metal arm pressing against her back, as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go.

Leia's face softened, but the wariness in her eyes didn't fade. She was here. She was alive. But everything was still raw, and the edges of her memories, the horrors of her captivity, were just under the surface.

She didn't speak at first. Instead, she simply stared at him—eyes flickering between disbelief and something more fragile, something Bucky could barely put into words. She blinked rapidly, her lips parting to say something, but nothing came out.

"I'm here," Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. He brushed her hair away from her face, his fingers gentle against her skin. His chest tightened at the sight of the bruises, the signs of the brutality she had endured.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, the words coming out in a hoarse, breathless rush. "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to bring you into this."

Her voice cracked, and for a moment, her vulnerability pierced through the hard shell of survival she had built around herself. Bucky's heart swelled with an ache that he couldn't quite name—guilt, sorrow, relief all tangled together. He knew she was hurting. And somehow, in some twisted way, he understood that part of her pain was his own. It was the burden of love, of survival, and of the choices they'd both had to make over the years.

Bucky's eyes softened, and he moved to pull her into his arms more fully, the urgency of the mission momentarily forgotten. "Leia," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You didn't hurt me. You saved me. You saved us both. Every day."

She didn't respond at first, and Bucky felt the weight of those unspoken words hanging between them. He could feel her pull away slightly, the walls in her heart still rising, despite the bond between them. She had lived with Hydra's programming for so long, had been manipulated into believing that sacrificing herself was the only way to protect him. The pain of that decision had cut deeper than anything Bucky had ever felt.

But he wasn't going to let her carry that burden alone anymore. Not now. Not when she was finally in his arms again.

He tilted her chin up gently, his thumb brushing her cheek. Her face was so close to his that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. She didn't flinch, but he could see the hesitation in her eyes—the uncertainty of whether she could truly trust him again, or if he would leave her just like the world had.

"I didn't leave you, Leia," he said, his voice low and steady. "You've been with me all this time, in my heart. No matter how far away you were, you've never really been gone."

Her lips trembled at his words, and for a long moment, they simply looked at each other. She was trembling slightly in his arms—not from fear, but from the emotional weight of everything they'd both been through. The fear of being lost, the fear of loving someone who might be torn away, the fear of losing herself in a world that had never given her the choice.

"I don't know how to forgive myself," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words shattered something inside Bucky.

He pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. "You don't have to. I'm not asking you to. You don't need forgiveness, Leia. You need healing. And we'll heal together. You don't have to carry this alone."

Her eyes closed for a moment, and she took a deep, steadying breath. When she opened her eyes again, the vulnerability in them was still there—but there was something else too. Something that had been buried deep inside her, something Bucky could see now: trust.

A flicker of hope.

She reached up with trembling hands, and for the first time since they had been reunited, she touched his face—gently tracing the line of his jaw. Her fingers were tentative, but there was something in the way she held him, something that told him that she was finally ready to accept the love he was offering.

"I never wanted to leave you, Bucky," she whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just... I couldn't let them take you from me. Not again."

The words hung heavy between them, but this time, they didn't feel like chains. They felt like the beginning of something. A new chapter. A way forward.

Bucky cupped her face with both hands now, his eyes locking onto hers. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly, almost reverently. The kiss was gentle at first, like the first rain after a long drought—tentative but full of promise. He didn't push for more, didn't demand anything. He just wanted to show her that he was here. That he was staying.

Leia kissed him back, and this time, it was with all the emotion she had been holding inside—months of pain, of loss, of longing. Her lips met his with a quiet intensity, her hands finding the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as if to reaffirm the truth between them.

When they finally pulled apart, the world around them felt both distant and immediate. Their breaths came heavy, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. Words didn't seem to matter. Not when they were finally together again.

"I'm not going anywhere," Bucky whispered against her lips, his voice hoarse. "I'm here. Always."

Leia looked up at him, her eyes soft now, the hardness that had once defined her giving way to something gentler, something more hopeful.

"I'm not going anywhere either," she whispered back. "Not this time. Not again."

And in that moment, it felt like everything they had both been fighting for—everything they had lost—was finally starting to fall into place.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The battle outside the compound raged on, but inside the small, dimly lit cell, Bucky and Leia had found something more precious than victory: each other.

The fight wasn't over. Hydra still had a stronghold here. But Bucky knew that no matter what happened next, they had already won something far more important.

They had won each other back.

And together, they would rebuild what Hydra had tried to tear apart.