We Can Have This.

Chapter 1

Snow drifted upon the ground from an unfamiliar sky that was beyond foreign; in fact, he knew it was alien. He was walking through the desolate landscape; the horizon was a shade of purple he'd never seen on Earth, with an eclipsed sun providing the only light. The shrouded star's pink hue glinted across water pools and rippled dunes. He stood before a towering mountain too straight to have occurred naturally. He climbed as drifts of snow ruffled at his hair, but it didn't melt on touching his skin, nor was it cold. The planet was eerily quiet; he appeared to be the only person here. At the top of the mountain, he thought he saw something or someone. He squinted against the unnatural light as he walked towards the shape. Yes, it was a person, a woman dressed all in black, a long plait running down her back, a red braid the end tipped blonde. But it couldn't be her; it was impossible. The figure turned, and even at that distance, he saw hope and recognition flicker across her features.

"James?" his whispered name upon her lips.

"Natalia!" Bucky sat up on the floor of his apartment, wrestling himself out of the blanket. His hand instinctively went for the dog tags about his chest. The dream again, the nightmare. The planet Barton had told him of where Natasha had sacrificed herself to undo what had been done- Vormir. So vivid and real as though he'd been there rather than Barton, but he hadn't, and now Barton's memory was his recurring nightmare.

He pulled himself from the floor and walked over to the full-length windows overlooking Brooklyn. The skyline had changed significantly from when he and Steve had lived here; it had been the natural city to return to despite no family or friends.  The pale blue light was barely perceptible over the high-rise shimmering towers; dawn was breaking. Bucky was a terrible sleeper since Hydra, although he no longer drank vodka by the bottle nightly to aid in what sleep he got. However, his use of sleeping apparatus hadn't changed; he rarely used his bedroom or bed when resting. Feeling his usual sense of agitation and unease following the nightmare, Bucky decided to go about his morning routine.

Ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one-hundred, he lowered himself off the bar with an almost silent pad of his bare feet onto the wooden floor. Sitting, he began his sit-ups, watching the sunrise hues through the doorway: pink, orange, yellow and white. One, two, three. Next would be the press-ups, one-handed like the pull-ups, right arm only. When you were a super-soldier with a bionic left arm, using both arms or just the left felt like cheating.

Bucky stood in his boxers in his kitchen after his workout, sipping at a steaming cup of black coffee; his hair, still damp from the shower, was combed and tucked neatly behind his ears, the ends almost dry. He was considering what to do about the nightmare. Should he speak to Sam? Sam knew how he suffered nightly, but then the nightmares had been memories; this was different. He hadn't been on Vormir; he'd been snapped away by Thanos, just like Sam and billions of others, nothing but ash and a memory, a legacy and not a particularly good one at that. Captain America's best and oldest friend turned brain-washed assassin turned would-be Avenger? He took another sip of coffee, stopping his mind from burrowing down the rabbit hole he feared falling deeper into.

If Sam was at the new Avengers compound, perhaps today he should go. Sam and others had previously asked him to join them, but everything was different. No one was in charge; it felt disorganised, and he certainly didn't want to take the reigns; no one did. It was strange that following the snap and his return into a time that did not feel like his home, he was one of the only ones coping. Wanda had disappeared after the incident with the Hex in New Jersey. Barton had tried to retire again or, at the very least, withdraw to be with his family but had been caught up in something involving the assassin Ronin and the crime lord King Pin in New York. Thor was off-world, as was Carol. Bruce was withdrawn, focused on something to do with ancient intergalactic rings. Scott and Hope were present, but without Tony, Natasha or Steve, who led those that were left? Sam? He'd taken up the mantle of Captain America after the incident with Carly and the flag smashers with some gentle nudging, but no one, including Sam, wanted that responsibility. The Avengers were scattered, divided and leaderless.