[Quiet in the Chaos]

~38~

OHHHHHHHHH, this is a BIG ONE. Let me know your thoughts. I added this last piece in to show how being apart and the blip had affected them and to show how alone Bucky feels. They're both desperate not to be alone. :D Happy reading xxxxxxxxxx

~38~

"To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?
There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see,
To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?
Well if you won't, I must say my goodbyes to thee."

<'Ends of the Earth'> Lord Huron.

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HER SHOULDERS rise and fall with a heavy exhale. In this moment, the navy coloured bar in front of her seems huge, like a tsunami, shadowing over its victims. She drops her gaze, clenching her jaw.

Despite herself, despite her anger towards the man inside, she can't deny that she is worried for him.

So she steps inside.

She ignores the eyes that glance towards her as the door shuts. Her dark eyes flit around the room, landing on a broad back sitting at the bar. For a moment, she closes her eyes, composing herself.

Her expression impassive, she slides onto the stool beside him. "I'll have whatever he's having," she calls quietly, the woman behind the bar nodding and turning away from her.

She feels the familiar pair of blue eyes glued to the side of her face. She isn't ready to look at him yet. "It's probably a good thing you can't get drunk, or else I'd have to try and carry you out of here," she says, grasping the glass placed in front of her.

A few moments pass, neither speak and eventually, Danielle turns her head, meeting his piercing blue gaze. "James," she greets monotonously.

"Danielle," he breathes. His eyes are wide, the only thing that gives away any emotion.

She forces herself to hold his stare, memories flooding into her mind, his features seeming so familiar and comforting now. She pushes away the need to launch into his arms. Swallowing, she takes a sip of the liquid, her expression instantly contorting into one of severe distaste. "Jesus, what is this?" she coughs.

He looks to his own glass, swirling the drink around. "They told me I couldn't get drunk. People have been wrong before. I wanted to test the theory."

His monotonous tone, dripping with bottled emotion is too familiar. Like the soldier she met all those years ago, the weapon, the ghost of a man. Instant guilt envelopes her. Why wasn't she there for him? He needed her.

I needed him.

She swallows back the emotion, concern for him still lingering. Despite the time that passed, only a fool would assume their love had faded. His eyes have darkened, the large bags circling them, larger than her own. His shoulders are rounded, his head dipped.

Her brows crinkle suddenly, her eyes only now realising his hair. His short hair. Without thinking, her small hand reaches up, trailing down the side of his head. He stiffens, instantly snapping her back to reality and withdrawing her hand.

He mentally curses himself for flinching. Her touch, however minimal and simple it may have been, made his mouth water. Made him feel at home, safe, loved.

Heat comes to her cheeks and she turns back to her potent drink. He swallows, straightening, studying her, attempting to source conversation in anything. "I cut it," he blurts out. No shit, dumbass. Damn you, Barnes.