After She Left

but never truly leave

"You there, you're better off here

You there, you're better off here

Funny it takes no time to fall back down

Funny it takes the time to get back up"

Aquilo's "You there"

It wasn't hard to track Sam Wilson down. With his skills he learned as a soldier under the manipulative tactics of HYDRA, he was an expert at finding people. Even if HYDRA had used O to do a lot of that work, there had been many, many occasions where Bucky was awoken from his Cryo chamber while O still slept. Looking back at that, he saw it as a kindness when they left her alone. They didn't see her for what she was, they refused to see her full potential – or rather, they had been terrified of her full potential. And perhaps that had been some sort of blessing.

Because when Helmut Zemo discovered what Ophelia's full potential was, he added a piece to the complicated puzzle that resulted in her death.

Bucky had been a piece.

Tony Stark had been a piece.

Zemo had been a piece.

It killed him to know that Tony Stark was the hero of so many stories, but the villain in his. It killed him to know that he was the villain of Tony's story, but not to O's.

Seeing things from one angle, refusing to look at another side of it, that was the reason why people were dead. It was the reason why so many people were still dying. Eyes shut. Ignorance is bliss.

Tracking down Sam had been a step Bucky hadn't intentionally taken – not really. But before he knew it, he knew where Sam was headed – to take on a terrorist organization that apparently just wanted the world to go back to the way it was for five years.

A peaceful world.

A younger Bucky might have believed that the world was peaceful at half-capacity. Then again, maybe not. The world he lived in when he first became a soldier had significantly less people than the world today did. And they still fought, killed, maimed, murdered.

There would never be a peaceful world.

But that didn't mean that there couldn't be moments of peace. For individuals – that's where Bucky had his faith.

Sam Wilson's flight was scheduled for the following day, to Germany. A place Bucky knew very well. Both from World War II and when he fought alongside Steve, O, Sam, Wanda, Scott, and Clint in a senseless battle. It was dangerously close to another place he knew well; Romania.

Though he would have a long day tomorrow, both aiding Sam and grilling the hell out of him for giving away that shield, he stepped out of his apartment with wet, tousled hair. He wore long sleeves and gloves, as always, and headed towards his friendly neighbour's apartment. Giving a brisk knock, he heard her approach with socked feet.

Lillian opened the door, this time not in pajamas. Instead, she wore a sports bra, a sports jersey, and jean shorts.

"Hey stranger, it's been a while," she said. And it had. Though they chatted, it hadn't been like that one night when he came over at two in the morning. And she'd let him in. Not a lot of people would have done that, but she did. She looked him up and down. "Come on in."

Bucky did just that, shutting the door behind him gently. He followed Lillian into her apartment that mirrored his, only with furniture and personality. Lots of art with brilliant colours that popped off the boring walls jumped out.

"Lillian... I'm going away for a bit, I've got some things I need to address," he explained. Not certain why he came here just to tell her he would be away. Worried that she might miss him? He scoffed internally at the thought. No one alive today would miss Bucky if he just up and disappeared.

Except the government officials tasked to keep tabs on him, and Dr. Raynor. But that wasn't genuine, that was orders.

"Can I get you some tea? Something stronger?"

He almost said yes to something stronger – but decided against it. "No, thanks."

"But you want to talk about it? Where you're going?"

"I shouldn't..."

"You're here..."

Life is so damn beautiful.

So go live it.

Talk to your neighbour.

"There is something you should know about me, before we go on. Before, whatever is going on between us becomes more. And I don't mean romantically, I'm still a little messed up from losing my wi-..." he hadn't said the word before, it crossed his mind now how horrifying it was that he was a widow. He couldn't say it, so instead he said, "my girl."

"That's not what I've been doing here," she explained, hopping up on her kitchen island. Her hands wrapped around the overhang. "I just wanted a friend, and I hope that no matter what you've got goin' on in there, you can still be that."

"I..." he stammered. "I do. Yes. I want that."

"Okay, so I'll do what friends do... We listen," she said with a nod towards the opposite counter. Bucky hopped up on it, worried he might break it. But it held his weight. He felt sturdy, secure, and safe in Lillian's apartment.

"My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I'm one hundred and six years old. I was Steve Rogers's best friend long before he was Captain America. I've lost the love of my life twice, and also my best friend. I was controlled by HYDRA for the majority of my life, and sometimes I wonder if... If I'm better off dead. The world is better off with me dead. Sometimes I get so lost inside my own mind that... I..." he stopped, tears were sliding down his stubble-covered cheeks. He wiped his hand over his face and dropped his head, closing his blue eyes.

The sound of padded feet hitting tile floor didn't startle him. But hands on his shoulders and the warmth of a body pressed against his knees did.

"Maybe you are a little messed up, yeah?" she said, with a little smile tugging at her lips. "But you're not better off dead."

"What am I accomplishing here?" he asked, his voice near to begging.

Begging for a reason.

"You're allowed to be broken, for a while. We are permitted that, no matter what they say. When someone leaves us behind... we feel like we've been torn in two, we feel every good thing bleed out of us... But then we pick up the pieces and stitch ourselves back again. And the parts we can't reach, others assist. Let me assist, Bucky," she said.

He looked at her, soaking in her words.

"Whatever it is you're leaving for... should I be worried?"

"No," he said with the shake of his head. "No, I'm... reaching out to a... friend."

"Sounds like you're already putting the pieces together," she stepped back, leaning against the island again. "And I think you're stronger than you know."

Thanks to all who have read through the rest of the series recently and have made their way to this book is shambles and rambles. (That should be my blog name)