Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

76

Bucky was inconsolable. Even he knew he hadn't been this barbarous in years -- fiendish and wild and so damn loud. He couldn't help it because even as he repeated his question, growing in volume each time, no one gave him the answer he wanted.

"Where is she?" He demanded. If the situation were anything else, he would've thought better about approaching the King of Wakanda so aggressively. But still, he was possibly the number one person to ask as he cared so deeply about all of his warriors.

And Bucky had been right, because before the full question could even boom from his mouth, T'Challa was directing him across the field, behind a large pile of rocks and overturned dirt.

The King's verbal silence made the whole situation so much more real to him. It made everything more daunting, more frightening, more alarming, and scary.

Bucky mindlessly wished he could run away, back to the anonymity of his broken life in Europe. Back to when he'd been hidden and alone, far from where he could bring hurt to the woman who meant the world to him. Back when she didn't have to arm herself tooth and nail, ordered to shoot and kill and maim if only just to live.

Bucky didn't do well with this uncertainty, this unease, couldn't function properly until he knew she was safe and uninjured. He felt like throwing up as he rounded a particularly large bolder; his mind was in a fog, thoughts dazed as tried to pick up the pace.

And, by god, she was there.

Bucky exploded into a full-on sprint, caring little for how untamed he truly looked now, probably reminiscent of the brainwashed soldier he'd been years ago. Because she was there.

He didn't let his gaze stray from her as he ran, afraid that if he did, she might disappear. His eyes burned with tears of simultaneous frustration and relief; he wished he could run faster. Uxolo didn't see him yet, was still helping those around her to their feet, knocking dirt from the backs of those who'd been knocked to the ground in the latest explosion. Bucky leaped over rocks and blocks of hardened dirt, navigated the horrendous, destroyed land with a sense of familiarity he refused to question.

And then finally, finally, he was close enough to reach his arms out and lift her into his hold. He pressed his nose into the crook of her neck, uncaring of the dirt and dust that marred nearly every inch of her skin. Nothing could hide those bright eyes of hers, peering down at him with such gentleness, such love, that he had to squeeze his own eyes shut to prevent a tear from falling.

Then, Uxolo said something that pried open his ribcage and ripped his beating heart out. She held his bloody, frail heart in her palm as she spoke. It cracked with each of her words, breaking apart at the seams, undoing all of the unease, all of the insecurities, all of the worry. Her words were quiet, gentle, and sweet. It made him want to cry full-on, to lock her body against him, and to kiss her.

"Ubuphi, sithandwa sam?" (Where have you been, my love?)

Bucky didn't respond immediately. His lips met hers instead, hard and strong, clashing.

Uxolo gasped at the contact but instantly melted against him. Each touch of his lips was like he was breathing life back into her. The dread and the cold, it was gone. The dark limbo she had been trapped in during those past few years, frozen between a whole life she thought she would have to mourn and the new terrible adjustments she would have to make, was definitely over. And this was a new start, an awakening, a way to escape from past nightmares.

He smiled, ignoring the tears that traced his cheeks and repeating what he'd said to her only hours prior, "Right where you left me."

He clutched at her with surprising strength, given the fact that, from his perspective, he'd gone from fighting one battle to another. He held her like she was some sort of raft. His very own lifeboat he did not want to let get away. She indulged him for a while, petting his head, burying her own face into his neck, filling her lungs with his smell, comforting him as much as he was comforting her.

"Let me take a look." He finally asked softly. She reluctantly let go of him, so he could study the damages on her body.

Uxolo smiled, taking a step back so she could stretch her arms out before him. "Just a few scratches and bruises."

The skin of her arms were littered with half a dozen big purple markings, bruises of various intensities from being tossed into the sky and landing amongst the rubble from the explosions. Although he couldn't see beneath her clothing, he knew that her torso would be painful to look at. Her hands also bore the marks of her misfortune, gashes caused by clashing weapons and terrible environmental conditions.

He had seen it all. The reds and the blues and the yellows and the many shades the human skin can take when it has been torn apart by a blade or a claw or a fist. Even the supernatural weapons some of the creatures had been wielding. Seen it on others. Seen it on himself.

But seeing it on her, it was different. It made him panic, breath hitching in his throat, muscles clenched, ready to fight, before realizing it was already done, it was too late for him to step in. And there was no revenge to be sought. No one to blame and hunt down and beat to a pulp.

There was nothing he could do. Pure unfiltered terror started to slither at the back of his skull, slowly smothering the light of hope her presence had cast into his dark sky. No, terror was not an option. His body and mind had gone through too much for him to dwindle on this feeling for more than a few seconds.

"Good." Adrenaline and instinct kicked in, powerful and familiar. If he couldn't search and destroy, then he would comfort and protect.

He kissed every patch of angry skin he came across, every bruise he encountered. He did so reverently, as if she was something precious and sacred, as if his lips could miraculously wash away the pain and the hurt. As he kept mouthing on the soft skin of her inner arms, it hit him.

What he could have, should have done didn't matter. Because she'd protected herself and defended those around her just like she'd said she would. She'd fought, and well, at that.

His other hand wrapped around her jaw, gently but firmly holding her chin to the side so he could have a better access to the fragile skin there, leaving open mouthed kisses on the plane where her shoulder met her neck. He murmured against her, if only to hide the tears that continued to stream from his eyes, "You really are a warrior, huh?"

"Yeah, I learned a lot from someone." Uxolo teased, cupping the back of his neck. She threaded her fingers through the dirtied, muddied hair at the nape of his neck.

Bucky shook his head. "You've always been a warrior."