Fifty
.
XXVI
Ink
.
Scowling down at the sixth question on his homework sheet, Teddy Lupin scratches lightly at the side of his temples, wishing not for the first time, that Harry hadn't had to go off somewhere. To go off somewhere for Bucky.
He doesn't begrudge the older male the chance to track down what could be the only person from his past; Teddy knows for sure if someone from their old world turned up he'd want to go racing after them too.
He's pleased that Bucky's going to be spending more time with Harry, and he really hopes that when they get back, they'll acknowledge the fact they've got something great going on.
Even as a kid, Teddy could recognise that.
Bucky'd make a good uncle, a cool uncle. He was teaching Teddy how to defend himself without magic, and he had all these great stories from back when he worked with Captain America and he made Harry happy.
That was a big, key point, right there.
He wasn't even upset that they'd had to have a very quiet Christmas last year, back when Bucky had first joined them.
It just meant there's be three of them this year. Which meant more presents and more holiday cheer.
"Teddy?! Finished your homework yet?!"
The tawny haired wizard jolts in surprise, scowling harder when his grip on the pen split the plastic right down the middle.
Ink pours out, splattering across the page, across his hand, but by the mercy of God, misses his answers.
Pushing the sheet away, Teddy leans back in his chair, looking at Maise Carr as the smiles back at Teddy.
He likes Maise, she's always happy and friendly, and she's never had a mean moment like all the other kids at school. She's on the swim team like he is, and she's good at what she does. Teddy does it because he likes winning, but Maise swims because she likes to swim.
The fact she always wins against the other girls is just a bonus.
"Just one more question," Teddy murmurs; Harry had sheepishly admitted she'd never put in too much effort when it came to school, and she had always just asked Teddy to try his best.
But since Bucky joined them, he'd sit down with Teddy and help him with anything he could.
Part of it was Bucky readjusting to the new time, but Teddy knew the other male liked to learn new things.
They'd been to more science museums in the past six months than all the years they'd been here before.
Bucky liked it, and Teddy had quickly grown to like it too.
Fingering the compact mirror that rests in his pocket, Teddy considered ringing Harry again.
She'd already called Maise's mom to say she was going to be late, and Teddy hopes that they'll both make to his match.
More than that, he hopes neither of them will get injured, that they'll both come back okay.
Even if it means missing his football game.
.
XXVII
Ambrosia
.
HYDRA don't even get a chance to figure out what descends upon them.
There's a flash of light, and Harry has stunned three of the Strike Team before they've even realised what's happening.
Bucky goes for the rest. They've got knock out gas, guns, tranquilliser bullets. But they don't stand a chance with him close up, not when he has Harry protecting his back.
He's punching the first one, metal fist meeting skull, before they even realises his dropped between their ranks.
The Soldier bristles within his mind, and he ducks out the way of a tasers prongs just in time, the electricity taking out another HYDRA agent instead.
Bucky doesn't bother to move when the shoulder of his metal arm 'tingles', the runes Harry had long since carved into the surface for warning him of and incoming attack.
The Soldier whips to a side at the last second, and Harry's spell catches him in the chest, pulling him up and away from the group, at the same time her curse hits home.
Blood pours from the vicious slices that appear on one agent, and several of them swear.
The Soldier grins, and as Harry taps the tune on his elbow, the one that distorts his form to the human eye, he drops back into the battle with a renewed sense of justice.
The victory is like ambrosia on his tongue, sitting heavy and pleasing on his palate.
Three are dead, bullets'll having passed through their brains, put their by their on teammates. HYDRA never was one to look out for friendly fire.
The rest are all unconscious, tied up by Harry's magic as she stands and frowns over them. With her hair falling around her face in a wild mane of fury, she looks like an avenging war goddess.
The Soldier approves.
What he does not approve of, is-
"There's a HYDRA agent upstairs, in the control room."
Harry's teeth work her jaw, the muscles clenching as her face reflects her anger, her rage.
The Helicarrier shakes as another blow is dealt, and Bucky effortlessly keeps his footing, flesh arm shooting out to steady Harry's wobbling form.
For a moment, the ferocity of her emotions disappears, as she sends his a soft and grateful smile. But it returns, as powerful as the burning sunrise, when her eyes land upon the agents once again.
"I think we should see how well Fury lives up to his name, no?" Bucky agrees.
While HYDRA can run, while they can hide, they'll never manage to survive the wrath that Harry no doubt has planned, never-mind what Fury would attempt.
The Solider purrs, a rumbling sound of approval that trembles through Bucky's chest as his eyes scan the surroundings for any trouble that could possibly appear.
He didn't want to drag Harry into this mess, but it seems she was going to invite herself in anyway, wading in so that she could help.
So, they might as well start by cleaning out this ship.
.
XXVIII
Wraith
..
Harry's a wraith of righteous vengeance as she moves through the halls, steps soundless and shoulders squared.
Bucky slinks alongside her, an ever present shadow, the cold expanse of space that presented the burning sun.
Her strides are purposeful, butter soft leather boots dancing quick across the floor, whereas his own thunder, announcing his fury with ever step he takes.
Two agents take one look at them and scramble out of the way, ducking into the smouldering wreckage of what had once been some form of scientific laboratory.
Bucky doesn't care.
He takes a moment to register Steve's presence, -Steve, safe and sound and right in the thick of things, as always- before he tore across the control room, allowing none to hinder him.
Metal fingers curl into the sharp cut suit, and the Soldier throws the HYDRA mole right across the room, until he lands right before Harry's feet.
There's guns on the two of them now, but the mole's already far too close to Harry.
"You've got a mole, Fury," Harry snarks, face tight and frown stern.
Bucky orbits, drawing closer and closer, the ever vigilant presence that rests within the hazard of his mind sharp and clocking every twitch around him.
"What are you tal-"
The HYDRA agent doesn't even get a chance to finish his sentence, Harry points her wand at him and then he screams.
Steve surges forwards, a look of horror upon his face, but Bucky catches him.
The Soldier surges too, but it's with pleasure, delighted to see the ones who hurt him suffer so.
In all honesty, Bucky's not too upset over this turn of events either.
"What's the matter? You didn't seem to have much trouble bragging to Bucky when you had him tied down, shocking his brains out."
Steve goes stone cold. He's not even breathing, Bucky's got his arms wrapped around his chest, he'd know.
"What." It's not a question that leaves Captain America's lips, it's an order.
He's marmoreal, but it's the stillness of a bomb before the explosion. Bucky yearns to see it.
"Yeah, slapped me 'round a bit, seemed pretty dead set that I wasn't getting out of it. Funny how five hours later Harry's plucking my half dead body out of the snow."
Harry looks magnificent, with her myrtle eyes ablaze and the light of war gleaming within, she has a heavy, dangerous mien. She was probably a sight to see during her war.
The Soldier is conflicted, because while the ferocity excites him, another part remains mournful. She's done enough fighting, he's done enough fighting.
They shouldn't need to be here. They could just leave, fortify Grimmauld Place, ignore the rest of the world.
The Soldier likes that plan; Bucky Barnes doesn't mind it.
Harry will dislike it though, so Bucky tempers his tongue from spewing forth such ideals.
Instead, he releases Steve, who socks the HYDRA mole in the jaw. Huh, that looks fun, maybe they'll let him get a punch in too.
.
XXIX
Buckles
.
Sitwell is the mole's name, Bucky learns.
He watches, eyes alight with feverish delight, as the man is pulled away, still shaking in the aftermath of Harry's curse.
And then, Fury does the unthinkable.
He releases Bucky upon his minions.
While the rest of the hodgepodge team gathers together to collaborate their response to the latest attack, Bucky has been unleashed upon the mass of SHIELD agents. He stalks down the lines, truculent eyes taking in the lines, edges and curves of each agents face.
Harry stands back, a grim set to her face even as her eyes gleam with the lustre of justice.
Her hands are tight on the railings, lace white skin taunt as it draws across her knuckles.
His lips quirk up in a predatory grin, before quick as a viper he snatches the second HYDRA agent from the crowd.
It's the only other one he knows of, Fury has done well to pick such a group, only two rotten.
The female instantly starts to sweat beneath his cold metal hand, he can smell the perspiration in the air, beneath the smoke and oil of the Helicarrier.
The Soldier wants blood.
Craves it.
Bucky desperately hungers for it too, but he knows, deep in the cockles of his heart, that he needs to be the bigger man.
It doesn't restrain him from kicking at the nearest console, and the hyaloid metal gives a rueful screech of protest as it buckles from the force.
A multitude of agents jump in fright.
But then Harry's right there, threading her fingers through his and pulling them to her face, where she wraps her lips around one knuckle and gives a quirky suck/kiss combination.
God, he's got no idea why he just doesn't ask her to go dancing, not when ardent eyes glance up at him from thick lashes, worry laced into her brow.
They live with one another, shower each other with as much affection as they held within this hollowed bodies, she is everything his family would have approved of. The words catch in his throat though, encumbered by the weight of his tongue and the gravity of his feelings.
Instead, Bucky presses his forehead to hers, nipping lightly at the soft skin of her knuckle before she lowers their hands.
"We have an alien invasion to kill," Harry whispers, voice low, though the words echo like rain on asphalt.
Up close, the aroma of home clings to her form, and Bucky wonders if he too smells of Grimmauld Place. If the scent of fresh apples, mud from Teddy's trainers, and homemade stew embraces him as much as it does her.
He seems to be stuck, to be in a constant loop, fighting bullies, fighting interlopers who threaten his way of life. The assholes of Brooklyn, the Nazi, now goddamn aliens.
But, he seems to gain something to fight for as well.
Steve.
Teddy.
Harry.
so whatever madness that continues to barrel his way, it's clearly worth it.
.
XXX
Smoke
.
They're heading off to fight aliens. Aliens.
Bucky shakes his head again, but it still doesn't compute, doesn't register fully within his head.
Aliens.
He remembers reading War of the Worlds, remembers finding it all pretty damn interesting.
Bucky Barnes likes science, has always liked science. The Soldier sees the advantage it can give, and he too pays it attention.
Aliens though? Really?
Bucky grimaces, and while the Soldier completes his third weapons check -total stock; 7 guns, 12 smoke bombs, 15 knives, 23 magazines, 1 soldier- Bucky looks to Harry instead.
She's sat opposite him, face so devoured of emotion he wants to pick her up and leave.
The Soldier seconds that action, but Bucky protests.
He can't leave Steve. Can't let others fight for a good world when he can actually help too.
Everything in him rebels at the thought of deserting.
Harry feels the same, he can read it in the lines of her shoulders, the sharp contractions of her ribs as she breaths.
She doesn't want to be here fighting, but an even bigger part of her protests fleeing. Protests cowardliness.
He hates this, the tension that descends like death in the night, the preemptive thoughts before battle.
It sits heavy, and they all should have the atlantean shoulders bear this burden.
Certainly not the whipcord thin expanse that Harry passes off as shoulders, he can completely cover then just by cupping his hands atop them.
"ETA five minutes," Barton speaks front he cockpit, a confirmation of what Bucky already knew. He was watching a digital representation of their approach upon one of the small tablet screens, a miniature jet approaching New York at speeds he'd have believed impossible, were he not currently residing in the future.
He speaks before he can stop himself, now that another battle is imminent, now that there's another chance he's going to wade into a war he can't pull himself out of.
But he's got a good team, a team that can do extraordinary things and there are no mountains for him to fall off in New York.
And that, is why he asks.
"Hey Potter?"
She looks up, green eyes keen and body relaxed. The kind of relaxed that comes from being ready to move at a seconds notice. The Soldier appreciates her readiness, her survival instincts.
"If we make it through this, wanna go out dancing?"
Somewhere to his left, Steve groans in exaggerated disbelief, but right now, Bucky only has eyes for Harry, she's not changed her facial expression, but something about her suddenly seems so much brighter.
Like a star that's suddenly not fighting with light pollution, and can now shine as nature intended.
"I'd love to go dancing when we get back." She says it with such finality, with such emotional force behind her words, that Bucky can do nothing but grin.
Because once this is over, he's going to have Harry twirling about in a pretty dress.
And that's something to look forwards to.
.
And Uni deadlines once again get in the way. Sorry about that my beloved readers, I do hope to have this done in time for Christmas, so fingers crossed.
Tsume
xxx