chrysalism. n.
the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension...
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New York, New York. July 2nd, 2017. Bucky's Bedroom. 2:47 AM.
Malone carefully tiptoed around Bucky's bedroom as he lay sound asleep in bed. She slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. While she was washing her hands, she heard Bucky grumble in his sleep. She quickly dried her hands and opened the door quietly, she could see him tossing around in bed, she walked back towards him. She could tell he was having another nightmare and decided to try out her new mind-reading skills. She stood a few feet away from him and closed her eyes, concentrating all of her energy on Bucky. She was careful though, just like Loki had taught her. She saw clouds of smoke and dust and heard the popping of gunfire. She realized she was standing on a bridge, staring at Bucky from behind. Only, the energy she was feeling wasn't Bucky's. It was colder and darker, sending a shiver up her spine. He strode heavily toward a man Malone recognized as Steve, fists clenched.
"Bucky, stop!" Malone screamed before she could stop herself. He turned to her and she saw how dark his usually bright eyes were. She realized that this wasn't Bucky, this was The Winter Soldier. He sprinted to her and grabbed her throat, before holding her against the ground. The scene faded as Malone's breaths grew shorter and she returned to reality. She expected her lungs to fill, but they didn't. A dark figure looked over her, still choking the life out of her. "James," she gasped. "James, come on."
She coughed a sputtered as she wearily raised her hand to grab his bicep. "James," she choked, as she started to get lightheaded.
___
"We got him," Tony called as he clapped his hands. Natasha strode across the lab floor towards him, with large bags under her eyes. Since Tony has been shot, the team had searched around the clock for Cole. They had to stop this, and soon, before another member of the team got hurt.
"I'll train her," Natasha mumbled through pursed lips.
"I still don't like this," Tony replied.
"It's our only shot."
"Buck will never let it slide," a third voice called from the door. The pair turned to see Steve solemnly standing against the door frame.
"She's got a mind of her own, right?" Natasha asked sarcastically.
"He's fought since day one to keep her out of harm's way-,"
"But she wants to go," she cut Steve off. "She's wanted to go for Cole herself since he left. All these men around her keep holding her back. I feel like there's a warrior in that kid, you people just have to back off for once."
Natasha huffed and stormed out of the room and up the stairs, Clint hummed as she walked into the large common kitchen. "What's got you tense?"
"They treat her like a helpless child, I'm so sick of it. She deserves our respect."
"I agree," Clint hummed. "But she's not you, Nat," he lowered his voice as she turned to look at him. "She's not trained for this, built for this like you were. You're right, she deserves to go, she deserves our respect. But if she gets hurt, or gets killed, Nat. You're going to take that personally. Is that really the next thing you want on your conscience?"
