Radioactive | Bucky Barnes

THE AVENGERS: CHAPTER EIGHT

Rhiley's head pounded, her thoughts buzzing with an uncomfortable sharpness that she couldn't shake. She hadn't wanted to see anyone, least of all anyone who might look at her like they understood. She was tired of the looks, the pity, the constant feeling that she didn't belong. The Helicarrier, with its endless hallways and its even more endless feeling of waiting, felt like a cage she couldn't escape.

"Then why wait?"

She froze. The voice wasn't real. It couldn't be.

But there he was. Howard. Standing in the middle of the hall, the same sharp eyes were watching her with the same frustrating mix of care and judgment that only he ever managed to pull off.

Rhiley turned slowly, her expression tight with disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Howard shrugged, that familiar, dismissive gesture that still made her blood boil. "Why wait?"

Her fists clenched. Her brother had been dead for how long now? Yet here he was again, haunting her thoughts as if he'd never left. He was a ghost. A presence she could never shake. He looked like him—exactly like him. The sharp, angular face. The stubborn set of his jaw. The eyes that held more intelligence than any man had a right to possess.

But he didn't act like him.

"Figure it out," Howard said casually, almost bored with her hesitation. "You're a big girl."

Rhiley's throat tightened, the familiar swell of frustration bubbling beneath her skin. "And what exactly am I supposed to do instead?" she shot back. "Just walk away from all of this? Pretend like it doesn't matter?"

The hall felt too wide. Too empty.

She couldn't do this again. Couldn't keep pretending that the people who looked at her like they understood could see what she was, what she'd lost.

With a sharp turn, she walked away, hoping the ghost of her brother would just vanish, finally giving her the peace she desperately craved.

"You're breaking, Rhiley."

His voice cut through her thoughts like a blade, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.

"Rhiley."

She kept walking.

But that didn't stop the memories. She could feel them coming, unbidden and sharp, like a flood that crashed over her in waves.

Time snapped.

She was standing in front of Dylan again.

The last moment before everything was stolen from her. The split-second before she couldn't scream, couldn't fight, before he took her voice and left her hollow. He had destroyed her. Not just physically, but every inch of what she had been.

And there it was again, the same pain. That same terror. It pressed against her chest, filling her lungs like concrete, suffocating her.

"Rhiley?"

She jerked back to reality, gasping for breath.

The hallway was empty again. Howard had faded away, like he always did. Gone like he never existed. Only the heavy beat of her heart remained.

Her hands were shaking.

"Rhiley?"

She spun, startled, her eyes locking on Phil as he approached. He stood there, at the end of the hall, quiet and watchful. She knew the look in his eyes—he could see it. The cracks she didn't want anyone to see.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, careful. His eyes searched her face, trying to read what she was hiding, but she wouldn't let him.

She swallowed hard, trying to push the fear and the grief back down, but it was too much, too thick. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "I hate waiting."

Howard, Dylan, everything that had shaped her... she shoved it all to the back of her mind, tried to bury it under a thousand layers of duty and distraction. She wasn't going to break again. Not like that.

"I hate feeling useless."

Phil's expression softened, and his gaze lowered for a moment. He was silent for a beat longer than she liked, then nodded slowly. "I know."

Rhiley didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know how to explain the storm inside of her. So she simply nodded and turned, ready to walk away again, to find somewhere—anywhere—that felt like a place she could exist without falling apart.

But she knew deep down, there was no running from the pieces of herself she was trying to outrun.

"Rhiley."

Phil's voice followed her again, not forceful, but tethered with concern.

She stopped just barely. Her back was still to him. Shoulders rigid. The corridor felt colder now, like even the walls were watching.

"I know you want to be alone," he said, quietly, carefully. "But I also know what it looks like when someone's drowning with their eyes open."

Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing.

"Please don't pretend you're okay just to make me feel better," he added, softer now. Closer.

That hit something in her.

Slowly, she turned. He was only a few feet away now. Still giving her space, still patient but she could see it in his face. The worry. The weight. The way he always managed to make room for her pain without asking for anything in return.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," she admitted, her voice cracking despite the armor she tried to wear around him. "I used to. Even when things were bad, I knew who I was."

Phil's eyes didn't waver. "And now?"

"I feel like a weapon someone forgot how to use," she said. "Or worse—something they're afraid will be used again."

Her voice broke at the end, quiet and raw. The hallway swallowed the sound.

Phil exhaled a slow breath like he'd been holding it in the whole time. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Not to stop her. Not to restrain. Just to ground her.

"You're not a weapon," he said, calm but firm. "You're Rhiley. You're smart, you're stubborn, and you've survived more than most people ever will."

She looked away. "I'm tired of surviving."

"I know."

They stood there in silence. It wasn't awkward. It was... heavy. Real.

"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," Phil added. "Not even to yourself. You don't have to fix everything. Or be okay all the time. Just... be here."

Rhiley looked up at him, eyes rimmed red but still burning with something fierce beneath the pain.

"I don't know how to just be here."

"Then we'll figure it out," Phil said simply. "Together."

She let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "That's very mentor-y of you."

Phil smiled faintly. "Well, I am annoyingly consistent."

Rhiley managed a small smile, and for a fleeting second, the heaviness in her chest loosened. Not gone. But not strangling her anymore.

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

Phil gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then let go. "Take a walk. Clear your head. Come back when you're ready."

She hesitated, then turned to go, this time not to run from herself, but just to breathe.

And as she walked, the ghost of her brother didn't follow. For the first time in what felt like years, he stayed gone.

For now.