Avenger Arising → Bucky Barnes [3]

03|NOSTALGIC NIGHTMARE

When Ally awoke, she wasn't in her cheap hotel room in Germany; a week after unknowingly running into Bucky Barnes. No, she was in a small room with the walls painted a hazy blue. There was a desk in the corner, which had papers of formulas and pointless scribbles scattered across the top. She stood up with a certain nostalgia to her, her eyebrows furrowing together. For a moment, she just stood there, in the room of her old house in Brooklyn.

Without thinking twice, she dropped to the side of her bed and reached for the gun she had stored there since she joined the SSR. She patted around the old wooden boards but couldn't find the small handgun Jojo had given her as a security measure. Ally stood up from the ground and wiped the dust off of her nightgown.

"Bambina, vieni qui."

That voice. It sounded so painfully familiar, like it was once heard in a vast dream from long ago. It couldn't be true, Rosa Jones had died years ago. Ally made her way to the door, pondering if it was worth going down the steps.

She heard boyish laughing, so crisp and clear she could've sworn it was real. Ally looked back into the familiarity that was her childhood bedroom and then once more to the stairs that lead downstairs. She let her hands touch the soft fabric of her silk nightgown before stripping herself of it. She stood vulnerably in front of her wardrobe mirror, seeing nothing but the skin of a person that wasn't her.

Her skin bared no scars or stitches, her eyes were the soft hazel color she was born with. Her hair wasn't dyed darker, it was the golden color that she had gotten from her father. Nothing seemed physically wrong, she looked healthy.

She roughly swung open the wardrobe door and standing in front of her were all the outfits she had worn in the 40's. She couldn't believe it. The dress she wore on her last date with Peter Dunn, the sunglasses she wore to Coney Island, the blue skirt she had paired with a white shirt striped with the same shade of blue and a yellow bolero jacket she wore to look better than Bucky's date to the expo...

"What's taking so long Alchemy?" the voice of Kepler Jones shouted from downstairs. "I'm starving and Mama won't let us eat without you!"

"I'm coming," her voice was shaky as she responded, instinctively grabbing a pastel pink dress off a hanger. "I'll only be a minute more!"

She fumbled with her stockings, pulling them up her leg as she stumbled around her room looking for a pair of shoes to go. She tossed her long hair over her shoulder and slammed her bedroom door shut, meeting her family in the dining room.

It smelt like bacon and eggs, her father's favorite. Something about the smell was overwhelming as she came towards the table. All of their faces watched her take a seat. All of their eyes were on her. All of their dead faces. These people were dead.

She watched them die.

She's the reason they were dead.

"About time Alchemy," her father put down his newspaper. "We've got growing boys here, we can't keep them waiting."

"Of course not father."

"Did you have a good sleep bambina?" her mother questioned, smiling gently. "It sounds like you had a late night."

Ally's eyebrows furrowed. "Mama," she muttered. "How old am I?"

"You'll be twenty-six in a few days," Rosa Jones replied. "Why on Earth do you ask? You don't believe I'd forget how old my youngest daughter is do you?"

"No," Ally replied, watching as Kepler and Nico began to start eating. "What was I doing last night?"

"As if you couldn't be more obvious," Kepler rolled his eyes. "Bucky doesn't know how to keep his voice quiet when he's trying to sneak you in at two in the morning."

"Bucky?"

"Are you feeling alright Alchemy?"

"What year is it?"

"1946."

"Impossible," Ally froze. "I was in Italy in 1946."

"Are you hungover?" Kepler snorted. "How much did Bucky let you drink?"

"He wasn't alive—" she stood up from her chair, looking for some kind of an exit. "This is wrong."

"Alchemy Jones, sit down this instant! You're causing a scene," her father raised his voice. "What has gotten into you?"

As told, she firmly sat back in her place and began to analyze everything. No matter what false reality she was in, no matter how terrible of a nightmare she was experiencing, the torture of hearing that Bucky and Ally were together a year after he allegedly died was something far worse than just a silly dream.

"Can I be excused," she questioned. "I need some air."

"No—"

"Of course bambina," her mother quickly cut in. "Do you need someone to come with you?"

Her eyes glanced at Nico, looking so much more like a man than a young boy. Her heart broke a little more as she pointed at Nico, who followed her out of the dining room without asking any questions. Ally flung the back door open and basically collapsed onto the back porch, hugging her knees to her chest.

"What's wrong Ally?"

She turned to her younger brother. "Don't ask questions, just answer what I'm about to ask."

"Okay?" he replied unsurely. "Ask away."

"What have I been doing for the past five years?"

"Getting your degree in medicine at the university," Nico told her truthfully. "You went to practice on the field for a year but came back when Bucky was injured in combat."

"What has Bucky been doing for the past five years."

"He joined the war," Nico shoved his hands in his pockets. "But since he got shot, he came back to Brooklyn to heal. You haven't left his side since...you guys are engaged."

"And Steve?"

"He tried to join the war and they finally let him," Nico looked at Ally worriedly. "Alchemy he died two years ago."

"What?"

"He was weak, all skin and bone."

"That's wrong."

"What's going on?"

"This is all wrong," she shook her head. "What kind of sick trick is this?" she got up and pinched her arm. "I'm dreaming, I must be."

"Of course you're dreaming," Nico chuckled. "Maybe if you didn't try so hard to be more than what you are, it wouldn't have been a dream."

—

"Maybe if you didn't try so hard to be more than what you are, it wouldn't have been a dream."