brushpass | threads

Bucky Barnes doesn't know much about the multiverse beyond the fact that it exists in some strange mess that Banner was ranting on about it. In truth he could only half pay attention in the pain of watching Steve move on to the past to live his life.

He misses his friend, but that's not the only thing he misses. Even though they'd returned him from the blip there was still something missing, a hole in his heart that he couldn't put a finger on or even explain why it was there. He writes it off to just the entire war that had happened, to the changes as he tries to go on with his life.

He helps Sam finally take the shield that Steve gave him. He speaks with Zemo about so many doors that had been left open.

He should have closer but there's still something no quite there.

Instead he's taken to watching the stars, even if he doesn't know why. He sits on the roof late at night watching them until one day there is a flash and Natasha thuds down right in front of him. His eyes go huge.

"You're supposed to be dead."

Natasha's been in some truly weird situations in her life. Too many to even count. So even though her head is spinning, she's already trying to catch up. She shifts position, moving into a crouch that she can get easily out of. Her surrounds are - more or less normal, even if they're not where she just was only seconds ago. And it's night.

Her eyes fall on Bucky, studying him in silence for a moment. The length of his hair, the stubble on his jaw. What he's wearing. The unusual color of his prosthetic arm.

"I could say the same thing to you."

His eyes narrow at that comment, unsure what it means. Why would he be dead? Where was she from, what time or place that it could even be true. He almost wants to ask but instead thinks he'll probably find out anyways.

"Only on ice for a few decades," he says with the tiniest bit of a grin curling against his lips. He moves to get up from where he was sitting and stands to cross the space over to her.

"Are you okay? How did you end up here?"

"Well, so long as it was only a few decades." The humor is dry and easy, an automatic response when she's trying to make sense of the situation. As he approaches her, she shifts position and stands up, her hands loose at her sides.

It's quiet for a moment before she answers him, and it's clear that she's assessing the surroundings again. When her eyes return to him, there's a half smile on her lips. It's her same old trick - pretending everything is normal until she figures out her footing. Granted, this might be a little bit beyond what she'd typically consider extraordinary circumstances, but there's still only one way forward.

And really only one inevitable conclusion.

"Weird cracks in the fabric of reality and a short bald dude with glowing eyes. He didn't bother to explain much to me. Just pulled me through and told me I was needed here." She tips her head, a spare gesture to indicate - well, everything. "What's been going on here?"

When she takes in their surroundings they'll notice they're on a rooftop of a brownstone in Brooklyn. He's dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and it's a warm summer night with the city lights illuminating the area.

"And reality just pulled you to my apartment roof in Brooklyn?" he asks eyes narrowing. It's not that he doesn't believe it, it's just weird in a way that everything in his life is weird anymore.

When she asks about what's been going on he shrugs.

"Got back from dealing with some kid super soldiers in Europe not long ago with Sam, he's Captain America here now."

Weird is the best word for it. Back where she came from, it's late autumn. She's still wearing a leather jacket despite the warmth in the breeze that tells her it's still deep summer here. That alone would have been enough to make her certain that she's not dreaming, but somehow - improbably - pulled through into another reality.

As if Bucky's presence isn't all the sign she needs.

"Did you wish on a star for a red headed spy?" the question is delivered with the same dry lilt of humor, though it's likely rapidly becoming apparent that she can't seem to look at him for long. Like she's still trying to draw her shroud of composure around her and she knows he'll be the thing that shatters the illusion.

She does glance back at him when he says what he's been up to, a half smile back on her lips. "You super soldiers are always making trouble. I bet that suits him." There's a brief pause before she tacks on, "we've been dealing with a Skrull infiltration."

The half smile turns to a full one when she makes the comment about super soldiers. It’s true, but it lasts a mere moment before he’s lost the smile again.

“I don’t know what a Skrull is. Some sort of cool slang word that’s lost on me?” He adds the second part of it as a sort of joke, he’s sure that anything that involves the term invasion can’t be good so he wants to lighten whatever the hell this is.

He turns away to look over the New York City skyline.

“It all looks pretty calm, outside of the dead Avengers dropping out of the sky.”

He’s not so sure how he’s managing the jokes, he’s hardly able to stand them since Steve left. That said, they just keep coming as if his brain is trying to calm things for him. He’d been inexplicably sad when he’d found out Natasha had died when he came back from the blip, but he still never figured out why that was. His brain wasn’t letting him understand.

Natasha pauses for only a moment, considering how much information is too much. And then settles on, "the skrull are shapeshifting aliens." Is it possible that they've infiltrated here too? She has to get her priorities in order, and there's about...seventy five things she needs to do before she starts worrying about the skrull.

"From my point of view, I just dropped onto the roof of a dead Avenger." When he finally turns to look at the city, she lets herself take another long look at him. The line of his jaw. The way he holds himself. How she can tell he's trying to make sense of the weird shit the universe literally threw at him this time. She's always been uncannily good at reading people, but is it strange that she can still read him like this when he's manifestly not the one she knows?

It's only the pain in her knee and arm from where she landed on the roof that keep her from asking if she's dead or dreaming. There's too many questions she has to ask to try to orient herself. What comes out of her mouth instead is, "didn't think I'd ever see you again."

His face frowns at the idea of being an Avenger. He doesn't think he could ever be that or do that but instead he just shakes his head. Where is he even supposed to go with this? He doesn't know, it's all just weird even though he's done weird a million times.

Sam would call this Wizard shit probably. Although the idea that shape shifting aliens are a thing certainly means maybe this isn't even Natsaha at all.

"And how do I know that you're not just setting me up to believe you and not secretly whatever it was you called it -- a skrull?" he asks half joking, his voice is playful and clearly he doesn't think it's that much of a stretch.

"How'd I die anyways?"

Natasha can't help but smile a little at the way he immediately frowns. "It was more of a moonlighting situation than a full time thing." It's sort of nice to see that this Bucky - and it's still weird to think of him as another Bucky - is similarly minded. It had always been less about being an Avenger and more about helping out her and Steve.

She can't help but chuckle at his question about the skrulls. "It's a good question. The problem is that skrulls can only skim recent memories. So unless we have some past in common here, that won't work. I can cut my hand if you want. Their blood isn't red." Though of course, given that he doesn't seem to know about the skrull, she could just say anything and he'd have no way of knowing.

There's a pause after he asks how he died. Really, the best way for her to get through this is going to be by pretending that she's investigating a skrull. Something she can't pin her hopes on. "Gathering the infinity stones. You jumped off the cliff at Vormir. How about me?"

Well, that hits a little too close to home for him to process. A world where he wasn’t dusted and was involved in whatever happened is certainly different even though some things might be similar.

He shakes his head like he can’t really believe it, taking a moment before he’s adding anymore words.

“Well, Barton says the same thing happened to you but we can’t be really sure because he was the only witness…” Okay, Bucky doesn’t actually think Clint would lie about that but he’s never really gotten along with the man even though he can’t explain why.

“I didn’t exist when that happened …” he says quietly. It’s guilt, not being there to help, being gone at important times were almost as bad as working actively for the other team like when he was the soldier.

This too was familiar. His odd sort of - not rivalry, really, but inexplicable dislike of Clint. In fairness, it was more or less mutual, though sometimes she suspected Clint just liked having someone to snark with. It was weird to imagine a world where she and Clint went to Vormir together, though she can see it. The love between them wasn't romantic. But he was her family.

Unless it was romantic here.

It was like a twisted sense of déjà vu and she couldn't quite catch up. It wasn't a feeling that she liked.

"Clint wouldn't lie about what happened." Her eyes shifted back to him when his voice dropped and she gave her head a little shake. "It must have been odd to come back after all that time passed in the blink of an eye. We can only do what we can do. I get it. There's work I should be doing back, uh, in my world, but." One shoulder lifted in a shrug. "I don't know if I can get back there. I don't even know if I can exist here."

Oh yeah. She was going to have to hold that existential crisis firmly at bay.

Bucky’s mind gets lost in thoughts of Clint when Natasha seems to have such utter confidence and fondness for him. He was almost ready to get hung up on the thought until Natasha mentions she might not be able to exist here.

It’s like a rock that crashes down in his stomach with ache. A surprise like it was when he’d heard she died in his world. He’d hardly known her and yet it hurt in ways he couldn’t begin to explain why. The idea that this one could disappear now was also, no, he doesn’t want to think of that at all.

“Who knows, everyone’s making their own lives in different worlds,” he mutters with a shrug. It’s an awkward statement holding some of the frustration he had with Steve that was lingering.

“Any idea what might have brought you here?”

His words feel like a dam. Like there's a tide of - something - just barely being held back by his composure and the weirdness of the situation. It reminds her so much of the way he - or the other him - had looked in the Red Room that it almost takes her breath away. The way she'd broken through his programming every time they'd put it back into his head. How he'd climb into her window at night to sleep next to her.

What does this Bucky have left?

"The little bald dude wasn't forthcoming. Maybe I'm meant to spearhead the skrull investigation here."

There's just a moment's pause. If she's thinking about him in the Red Room, perhaps she has to be the one again to try to resurface his memories. If he even has them here. She already watched him die. Maybe just him being alive here with no memory of her will be enough.

Maybe.

"Or maybe you really were wishing for a red headed spy, Мой милый, huh?"

"My dear?" He asks raising his eyebrows. It's safe to say that whatever world Natasha is from they were on a much better terms then the interactions he'd had here. It's the second time she'd made that joke about wishing on a star too.

He wasn't out here wishing for anything, but yet here she was.

"Not just going to call me Barnes and avoid me? Or did the Bucky you know not try to kill you on multiple occasions?" He's trying not to read too much into the fond language anyways, the Natasha he knew had always used playful names with Steve and Clint, it makes sense she'd do it for anyone she was friends with.

"No, he definitely did," Natasha answers with a chuckle that sounds almost - perhaps even inexplicably - fond. "He didn't do anything to me that I wouldn't have done to him if I'd been faster on the draw." And it was true through all the layers that had been between them. She'd never held back when they'd had to fight. And he'd gone over the edge on Vormir. They both knew each others moves backwards and forwards but he'd grabbed her last ditch attempt before she'd even thought to reach for it.

She folds her arms and looks away for a moment, off across the skyline towards what she can see of the horizon. The city looks more or less like she expects it to - she's going to have to do some mapping of it to figure out if anything doesn't match up.

Either this Bucky doesn't have his memories or they're different. Either way, she's known him when he hasn't had any knowledge of her. She can do this. She's been the master of compartmentalization for years.

"He was one of the people that trained me, in the Red Room. He helped me escape, they punished him for it. We fought a few times over the years before he got his memories back." Her head tips so she can look over at him with a sad smile. "I just wanted to see what memories you had. Sorry."

Well that's a lot of information at once and it makes Bucky frown. She asks about memories and he brings a hand up to his temple without even realizing he's doing it, rubbing like maybe it'll help it.

"They're coming back, slowly. I don't think I was ever in the Red Room though, I didn't work for the Soviets, just Hydra."

He's pretty sure that's an accurate statement, there's no way he wouldn't have had memories if something like that had happened. Right? His brain couldn't be that far locked away.

"HYDRA and the Red Room worked with each other for decades in my world," Natasha answers. There's more details she could give - missions, cover stories, associated organizations. But she's aware that would be a lot to share with him right on the heels of revealing that she'd known the other him.

Her mouth pulls to the side a little, like she's not quite successfully containing a smile. "This is pretty weird, huh?"

Was that a thing? Could it have been here? That would be crazy right, someone would have mentioned that. It would be in a file somewhere and someone would know.

"It's really fucking weird," he admits. He doesn't know what the right thing is to say or do, should he lead her off the roof? Does she want to go somewhere on her own? He wouldn't blame her if they had the kind of relationship he had with Natasha, attempted murder a few times.

"So uh, can I help with something or... I don't really know what to do here?"

There's a lot of things that she needs to do. Like, the money she has on her probably isn't good her. The likelihood of her phone working is slim to none. Her weapons will probably work, so at the very least she could go sell them somewhere if need be. She should poke around to see if this Natasha has any of the same secret caches that she does, provided no one cleaned them out for her. And she should probably tell Clint at the very least that she's here.

It's an exhausting list of things to do when it's apparently late in the evening. And she could use some time to get oriented. "Depends on what you're up for," she answers. "I could use a drink."

"I'm pretty sure I've got a bottle of vodka in the back of the freezer," he offers giving her a half hearted smile. He's not sure if she should even be offering the Black Widow vodka, is that too stereotypical? It's all he as though, he doesn't really drink because he can't get drunk, just keeps it around for the odd occasional.

He motions her to the door off the roof and leads the way back down to his building pulling his keys from his pocket.

"I'm sure there's many other people you'd rather be running off to around here, Clint, Yelena, Banner..." he says opening the door to an apartment that is depressing. It's sparse like barely anyone lives there.

Natasha's not sure it's a good idea to go with him, because he doesn't exactly look like he's keen for company. But she's also pretty sure it would be unforgivably rude to say 'I know the universe literally dropped me on your roof but I'm gonna scram.' So instead, she says, "sure. I'll be pissed if vodka tastes different here."

She follows him down the stairs, and quirks her brow when he mentions Bruce along with Clint and Yelena. "Banner and I don't really talk much. I'll find Clint and Yelena, though." Her head turns to look into the apartment as they step inside and she has to stop for a moment. It's the most visibly rattled her composure has been. She feels like she has vertigo.

It's his apartment, but...sad. Empty. None of his stuff is there. None of her stuff is there, left behind from the times she stayed over or purchased to leave there on purpose. It's the worst kind of déjà vu. "James," his name comes out of her mouth without her really thinking, and she's reaching for him as she turns toward him. Her hand stops halfway there, and she touches his shoulder lightly for just a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't know you here."

"Oh, in this world I think Natasha had some thing with Bruce, Steve mentioned it once.." he mutters softly with a frown. Was that awkward to say? He figured maybe she should know about that, it sounds like it might be something different then what she was used to.

As they're headed in and she touches his shoulder he pulls back a little instinctively. He hasn't been touched by anyone in that sort of friendly way in a long time and it makes him question what's going on. It's not right and there's something she's not telling him.

"Why are you saying that? What aren't you telling me about your world?"

"Bruce, huh?" Natasha considers it for a moment. It's not something she's really entertained before, but then again, no one else ever really stood a chance with her in her world. Not when there was a soldier that couldn't forget her no matter how many times the world tried to make him. The only other person that truly understood what it felt like to be a weapon in the shape of a person.

Her hand moves away easily when he pulls back, palm up as she moves her arms in careful arcs until they're folded. It's a fairly obvious gesture of contrition, a promise she won't touch him again. Maybe it's a little protective as well. A physical wall she can use to stack the bricks of her composure on.

The wall is still shot through with cracks. There's a moment of silence after his question, and she weighs the balance of truth against lie as she watches him. Her expression is mostly neutral, but her eyes are sad. Finally, she settles on, "when the other you died on Vormir, I was the one with him. He jumped to save me." Her mouth pulls to the side a little, like she's trying to make her face do what she wants it to. Something that's usually effortless. But the well of emotion in this confession is too deep. It has its own gravitational pull. Turns out she can't even escape it in another universe.

It's concerning, the way she knows just out to position her body to let him calm from the touch. Or at least it would be if Bucky had time to think about it. Instead that explanation hits him like a ton of bricks. Face staying surprisingly neutral but giving little hints that his brain is processing the rapid amount of new information and trying to keep composure.

They were on Vormir together wherever she was from. The idea that he chose to be the one to go over that cliff doesn't bother him nearly as much as he would have guessed. Of course he would jump, he's the one here with no family, no friends, no life. Quite frankly he probably would have been happy to do it in this world as well.

"I'm sorry you lost him..." he mutters because what else do you say about that and turns to his freezer to dig out the bottle of vodka before reaching for a couple of rocks glass in the cupboard. He keeps his back turned to her because this all starting to quickly all become too much and he can't even put his finger on why.

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Sorry holidays got busy!

no worries! i hope you enjoyed the holiday!

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