stories-lost-in-trance

[stories-lost-in-trance]

In her blood // Bucky Barnes

Part II:  New alliance

Lowtown, Madripoor has become brighter with light than ever. New clubs, more buyers and new kinds of drugs have brought new clientele from all around the world. With a wide spread saying that you can have the best or the worst time of your life there, many adrenaline junkies and troublemakers made their way into the streets. Everyone was looking for a new fix, new deal, new story to tell. An opportunity. These new personalities became a light and colourful layer on top of the old, dark and dangerous regulars. You could witness a murder on one street corner and a young people trying to make a break into art industry on the other. If you listened to the ones who were engraved into Lowtown for generations- the voices were divided. Some would say that new blood brought enough business and talent for them to start taking Hightown piece by piece into their possession. Others claimed that their town has been taken by the weak scum that does not understand the history and business. Nor the etiquette.

It might be, indeed, hard to accept, but Lowtown had still had a set of rules, unwritten but binding and respected by most. If you wanted to make a serious business- you had to obey. Know how to talk, how to bargain and understand the complicated dynamics between gangs and kingpins of the streets. Many young entrepreneurs got lost and never found after disrespecting certain big names. Although some, like Alie, found their own way to buy themselves into the graces of just the right people.

Alie was a handsome man, in his own way. Where one could say he was lacking, Alie would compensate with charm and confidence. With his chest always up and smile always on, he was stealing hearts of the ladies and customers who came to bargain. His golden brown skin was covered in black ink from his hands up to his neck. Blond hair with black roots curled up nonchalantly due to heavy dampness of the climat. Alie was a smart man, came to Lowtown with little and within a few years became one of the most known art thieves in the city. All the fences knew- if you have a customer wanting something that nobody can get- go to Alie. His skill and fair amount of luck brought him enough money to buy one of the clubs, redo it and reopen it as a new hotspot in town. And if there was anything Alie loved more than stealing, it was being the soul of the party.

"Alie!" a low and crispy voice shot through the corridor. A tall and stout man has opened his arms and smiled with excitement of someone who's about to do a good deal. "My man, I was just looking for you!"

"I don't doubt that for a second." Alie hugged the man and gave him a stern pat on the back. "How's my favourite smuggler doing today?" He opened the door to his office and let his guest in.

"Amazing. Amazing. I am going to make your day amazing too." He threw himself onto a chair in front of a massive, mahogany desk. His massive hand evened out his long, grey beard and landed in the pocket of a leather vest. "I am here with an opportunity of your life," he said confidently.

Alie smiled widely as he sat in his wooden armchair. He has been offered an opportunity of his lifetime at least once a week. It rarely was, obviously. Alie had very specific goals and he knew what he wanted. Rarely straying away from his path. He did, indeed, loved risk but only when odds were in his favour.  He waved at his guest, signalling him to go on.

The smuggler pulled out a small vial of blue liquid and placed it on the desk. Then he sat back with so much confidence, as if he just became a king of Hightown. Alie pulled up his massive chair and leaned over the desk, placing his face within an inch of the vial. He looked at it curiously before grabbing it with two fingers and bringing it close to his eye. He shuffled it in his hands a bit, looked at the liquid from every side and placed it back. With his elbows on the desk and hands folded together he smiled at the smuggler. And said nothing.

The smuggler fidgeted in his chair impatiently and leaned over towards Alie.

"This is the new big thing, my man. And you are the first I am offering it to."

"But what the hell is that, Sadid?" Alie laughed and sat back. "For all I know you're bringing me blue vodka and that I have enough down at the bar."

"No, no, no, no!" Sadid smiled and grabbed the vial. "This is one of a kind, a form of art. One and only."

"For god's sake, Sadid," Allie huffed.

"Tell me, Alie," Sadid stood up and started circling the office, "have you ever heard of the Winter Soldier?"

"Obviously." The thief shrugged. "He was here not long ago, wasn't he? Demolished one of the pubs and got Selby Killed."

"Yes, but do you know about how he became who he is?" Sadid put on his mysterious voice.

"Sadid, I swear to myself. To the shore. "

"Fine." Smuggler put his hand on Alie's arm and placed the vial in front of him again. "This will give you all the powers, all the strength and instincts of a super soldier. For a few hours at least. No side effects, only a good ass kick."

Alie looked at the man and the vial surprised but cautious. Sadid, now sitting back in the chair, smiled even wider. Not long ago the last bit of the serum was destroyed. The word spread everywhere, everyone knew that. There was no documentation left, no data and no samples. And the only crazy scientist who was involved in this was shot in the head.

"That's not really possible though, is it, Sadid." Alie regained control of himself. "Isn't it one of these fancy shots that just makes you pumped up?"

"No!" Sadid laughed. "I'm talking about all of it. Healing, resistance to toxins, reflexes and... slowed ageing. This is basically everything good, nothing bad. And it's right in front of you."

"What about," Alie pointed at his head, "the mental state?"

"No problem, clear head. Won't affect your thinking."

Absolutely not, thought Alie. He read and heard enough to know that nothing good comes out of this serum except for Steve Rogers. And this dude is dead.

***

It's been months since Sadid's visit to Alie's office. Maeve was sitting on the desk with her legs crossed. Long, brown braid was laying on her back, almost touching the mahogany surface. They were closing in on one of the workers closing in The Factory. He could, possibly, lead them straight to the supplier of the new, hot thing. From the supplier they should swifty move to the creator and from there... take them all down.

The feeling of anxious anticipation was hanging over her, coming closer and closer. Alie was watching her carefully, she knew that, but she couldn't shake herself off that day, couldn't wait any longer. It was the day they were supposed to meet with a new source. They have never been closer, but they kept their hope in check because the source was an absolute mystery to them. There was not much communication exchanged except for a few scribbled notes on the back of a napkin. No name, no voice and no face. A meeting was scheduled at midnight, in the back alley of the French Cassino. Plenty of shady characters but fairly quiet, far from sober ears.

She was waiting for Alie to finish his business on the phone. He seemed so relaxed, laughing loudly and flirting his way through the sale. Stolen Van Gogh was hanging on the wall. His tattooed arms were dancing in the air, gesticulating to no one, but himself. Graceful as always, she appreciated for a second, before he finally finished the call.

"Shall we get to the serious business now, madam?" He smiled widely and grabbed his shiny, purple coat.

"Hardly inconspicuous fashion choice," she commented with judging grimace.

"If anyone saw me dressed down, they would know I am up to something."

"You are always up to something."

"Stop growling at me, my love." His disarming grim melted her a little, but the anxious cloud chased it all away. No matter how much he tried, she could not relax.

The atmosphere of anticipation was abruptly disturbed by a groan and a loud bang just behind the office doors. The guns were drawn and a silent plan made with barely few telling glances. Maeve quickly positioned herself behind the door with her desert eagle up in the air, almost touching her cheek. Cold steel of the gun reflected Alie's colourful outfit. His hand was tightly holding his favourite, gold plated colt and aiming straight at the door.

Sam walked in slowly, stepping only one foot fully in the office. One of his eyes appeared from behind the door.

"Wow." His empty hand went up in the air. "No need for the gun."

"Judging by the noise accompanying you at arrival, I'd argue." Alie smiled widely and tilted his head. "I would strongly suggest you to not move too quickly now, otherwise my friend is going to lay you to rest through my very, very expensive door." He gestured at Sam to come inside the office with a slight tilt of his colt.

Slowly, Sam moved into the room, turning his eyes and seeing Maeve pointing straight at his head. They both, very quietly moved in until there was no door between them.

"Damn," Alie invited Sam to sit down with an elegant wave of his hand, "Captain America in my modest office. Should I offer you something to drink or knock you out and run?"

Maeve pushed on Sam's head with her gun, prompting him to take a seat.

"I wouldn't push your luck." She heard a lazy, raspy voice just behind her and a metal muzzle touched her head before she managed to react. Her left wrist got grabbed with an unnatural strength when she tried to reach for another gun that was fixed to her belt.

It became apparent that they have reached an impasse. The only way out seemed to be diplomacy which was not Maeve's strong suit at all. She waited for Alie's turn. If anyone can get us out of this, it's him. The thief took a long, deep breath and lowered his gun as a sign of goodwill. He took off his garish coat and hung it over the armchair before sitting down comfortably. Although her left wrist was still being crushed, Maeve's right hand kept steadily pointing at the target, waiting for a plan to be formed. Grip on her wrist kept tightening, and with every second her heartbeat kept getting stronger. Slowly but steadily her senses got elevated to the next level, slowing her surroundings down and speeding up her reflexes. She could hear the man behind her, his breathing- composed, heartbeat- steady. She could smell him, clothes from the night before, at least. Both of them were too busy to go home and rest, she thought. Someone's been on a deadline. She felt his piercing eyes drilling through her head, body being ready to attack. Tense. Like a soldier. Slight shiver went down her back and arms and she shook it off quickly, confused. With Captain America in front of her, she knew the person behind was not an ordinary killer. Must have been highly trained, prepared and fast. Good enough to sneak up on her. She wondered if she was losing her touch for a moment, not often being caught off guard this way.

Alie's smile didn't return for a while and when it did, it was much more calculated. If one person shoots, everyone shoots, he thought.

"Let's lay our arms and relax a bit." He looked at Maeve but she didn't react. As long as she was being held at a gunpoint, she was not lowering her gun either.

Sam turned his head slightly.

"Let's."

Grip on her wrist loosed up until it was gone, but a gun was still pushing on her head. She didn't move.

"Damn, Maeve. Let the man go," Alie threw at her with slight annoyance.

"You're not the one with a gun to your head, Alie. Tell your bodyguard to go first." She nudged Sam's head.

"My man has trust issues."

"Sounds like his problem, not mine."

"Sounds like you're stalling," said the man behind her, annoyed.

"Sounds like you're being a baby," she snapped back at him.

"God dammit, Bucky," Sam raised his voice, "just let her go so we can move on from this."

Pressure on her head disappeared and she heard a gun being unracked further away. She relaxed and dropped the hammer of her gun as well. Sam finally turned his head fully and looked at her. He was tense, just like everyone else but she could sense something else from him. Determination. Desperation? He was there for a specific reason, there was something he wanted. And badly. He nodded at her and a pleasant, polite smile wandered on his face. Bucky walked slowly around, not letting her out of sight until he remembered where he'd heard her voice before. Their eyes met and they both, at the same time pointed their fingers at each other in confusion. Maeve's eyes wandered to his metal arm and something in her mind finally clicked.

It's been two years since the quiet night in the motel. He looked at her, standing right in front of him, baffled. For years it's been coming back to him, the feeling of longing. Longing back to that room, that fleeting peace and comfort. He tried to recall it a few times but it seemed unachievable. Impossible to recreate. With every try he grew more desperate to rest his mind like he did that night. To feel left out from the world for a few hours, but not alone like he did in Wakanda. Accompanied in quietness of the mind. For a long time he hoped that crossing all the names from his book of amends would bring him that peace, but it was not there. Not the same. It always had a different flavour, weird aftertaste of unidentified yearning.

"Look who's dragged his ass in the wrong place again." Maeve put her gun back in the holster with a smile. Still being on high alert but she allowed her body to relax a little bit.

"Are you creating chaos everywhere you go?" Bucky asked with a frown but a smile was creeping onto his face.

"Look, my friends," Alie bowed down lightly, relieved that they could use Maeve's familiarity with his guests to disarm the situation, "we are delighted to have guests but unfortunately we have a very important business to attend to. How about we meet tomorrow and talk about whatever it is that you would want to talk about?" He grabbed his flashy, purple coat again.

"That won't be necessary," Sam assured him. "The business you were supposed to take care of is currently in our possession. That's why we are here instead."

Maeve straightened up. Her mind and body started to tense up again. How on earth, these two just barged into Madripoor and found her informer? It took her weeks to get in touch with anyone from The Factory and if anyone was working this angle at the same time, she would, surely, know about it.

"I don't think I understand." The thief looked quickly at Maeve, making sure she was still composed.

"The guy," Sam confirmed. "We got him an hour ago."

"You took my informer." Maeve made a step towards Sam a little bit faster than she should. Her hand wandered close to the gun. Like on command, Bucky's gun was loaded again and ready.

"Hey, hey. Technically we got him before he became your informer."

She tilted her head and moved her body weight on one leg. Hand was getting slowly closer and closer to the gun. Blood started to boil inside her veins.

"You really don't want to stand between me and him."

"I already am."

"No, right now your one foot is in the door. I am asking you to move it before I rip your whole leg off and shove it up your..."

"Ok, ok. We got it. Your informer." Sam made a move and stood right in front of her. "We did not realise it was a big deal. How about we talk to him together?" He opened his arms with a smile. "We get you to him, have a talk and then we can deal with the drug problem."

"No. Hand him over. Now." Her hand was now resting on the handle of her gun. Ready to pull it out any time.

Sam looked at her hand and felt annoyingly close to death again. No matter how sure he was that Bucky would be the first to shoot and have his back, he wanted to avoid it at all cost. He knew he had nothing except for the informer now. And he refused to talk to them, he only wanted Maeve and Alie. His only way of dealing with this was to get them to work with him.

"I have been on this for over two years," she continued, "you don't even know what you are after, and you're telling me to take a backseat?"

"We are not telling you to take a backseat," Sam answered her seriously. "We want you to let us help you."

"Right now you are not bringing anything to the table, though," she pointed out. "You came here, without any notice, and announced that my informer, whom I was trying to recruit for weeks, is now being held hostage by you? And you say you didn't know it was a big deal? So you clearly have no idea what is going on. You think you can just fly in here, mister man-bird, and take what I have worked for? How are you going to help me? By having him," she pointed at Bucky, "stare down half the Lowtown? The only thing I need from you is what you have taken from me. I suggest you both take yourself back to whatever heroic land you came from and try to help people who need your help."

Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head. She was not easy to convince, but stubborn and hard to work with. Just like the staring machine, he thought. He realised that he should have prepared himself better for this conversation. This one was on him, but he has seen, first hand, what are the effects of the drug and he would not allow it to spread any further.

"Look," he started calmly, "I realise maybe I should have played it out differently and I'm sorry, but it already happened. I am willing to fix it now, before it gets out of control. I am not here to fight you both. I want to offer you anything you might need, it might not be a lot but if I know anything about this case, it's that it's much bigger than just the two of you chasing bad drugs off the streets. You might need man power and we both have skills and want what you want."

"Yeah?" Allie tilted his head. "And what's that?"

"Save lives." Bucky threw at him seriously with his arms crossed. "We saw what this drug does to people."

" Wow, how heroic," Maeve huffed loudly with disapproval and looked at Alie.

"Can we have a moment, gentlemen," he said and smiled politely again at Sam.

"I am not letting them take over, Alie. No way," she whispered angrily when they got close enough to have a private conversation.

"I am not asking you to. But, just think about it for a moment," he put his arm around her, "Captain America on our team can help. His guy is obviously useful in throwing people through walls and, don't take me wrong, you can obviously do that too, but he doesn't run out of juice. We both know who that is and what he's capable of. We have better chances with them on our side, you know that." He shook her slightly, forcing their eyes to meet. His eyebrows were raised high in anticipation.

She threw her head up with a sigh and nodded slightly. Alie patted her on the back and turned back to his guests. He opened a cupboard under his desk and pulled out a bottle of a glowing, red liquid with four glasses.

"Gentleman," he announced with his singing voice while opening the bottle, "looks like we have an agreement! Let us have a drink to celebrate."

A little bit of mysterious alcohol was poured into the glasses. Alie grabbed two of them and approached his guests graciously, passing the drinks. Sam and Bucky looked at the bright liquid distrustfully and then at each other when Alie finally grabbed his own glass and raised it in the air.

"To the new alliance!" Him and the girl downed the drinks at once, followed with hesitation by their visitors.

[stories-lost-in-trance]

In her blood // Bucky Barnes

Part I:  River becoming a lake

She ran fast as the fire started to spread across the corridors and haunted rooms of the village hospital. As fast as she could to outrun the heat and the smell of burned evidence. Listening to screams out there, somewhere. She knew the hostages were safe, tucked away on the other side of the fire, slowly making their way through the hole in one of the walls that she left for them. To the outside again, to freedom.

There was only one thing left to do. One thing to get.

She felt as if her shoes started to melt and stick to the heated, metal floor. The blood on her soles was turning black. The command room was there- she remembered the blueprint by heart. Just a few metres further, few turns and there would be only one keypad on a metal door between her and the disk and if she had to rip it all apart, she would.

She saw him with a corner of her eye, just past the Evidence Room 2. The only door with no markings on and only a small window with little grid. Her blueprint did not have this room on, there was not supposed to be anything there ... but there was. It was there with the door wide open. Smoke was getting in quickly through the ventilation system. She made sure no one would stay there and survive. His unconscious head hanging heavily was not pictured on a list of either hostages nor workers of the hospital. There he was: a man who was not supposed to be there in a room that was not supposed to exist. Blade in her hand shined slightly, reflecting uncontrollable fire that was creeping in dangerously close. She had to make a choice, and quickly. Risk not getting that disk out or leaving him for certain death.

Damn it.

She went in, quietly. Almost on the top of her toes. The man was seated on a wooden chair, just beside an examination bed that was badly stained with blood. She wasn't sure whose blood it was but if she could assume it was his, he would probably be one of the new hostages. Just brought in. Fresh.

With time running out and smoke closing in she, quietly but quickly, approached him with her small knife. Even when she gently pushed on his arm, he didn't move. There were a few syringes lying just on a desk behind him that read Ceroten on a little label. She was way too familiar with the drug so she knew- if they used that much on him, he was definitely one of the big three. She wandered chaotically around, looking for a dispensary cupboard and quickly went through tens of little bottles until she found what she needed. Little vial that will wake up the dead. Ceroten or not, he IS going to wake up.

The needle went straight through his trousers and to the thigh. Transparent liquid was released into his bloodstream. In one second his eyes were wide open and a loud, deep gasp came out of his mouth.

“Great.” She looked at the door and grabbed his arm. It was strikingly hard and felt almost non-human. “We really need to go. Now.”

One pull was enough for her to know, she wouldn't be able to just carry him out. Her energy was running low and there had to be enough left for her to get that disk. That bloody disk. She started feeling the shakes already and her vision was doubled. The man looked deliriously around and pulled out the syringe from his tight. He threw it to the side as he got up on his feet, knees bending slightly and hand looking for support. She tried to explain to him that the feeling of weakness in his body and the confusion will leave soon but as she spoke, his hand tightened around her neck and lifted her up in the air. With her feet hanging a few inches above the floor she had to gather the last bits of her strength to release the grip. With everything she had left, she grabbed onto his arm and put as much pressure on his elbow as she could until he let go, still in shock.

She gasped for air and made a few unsteady steps back. His hand was stiff, cold and strong. Too strong, she thought. The glove on his hand was worn down, harsh. With every second his consciousness was coming back, memories and strength in his body. He could hear her shouting but it sounded like she was standing behind a waterfall. Her hand kept pointing at the door and signalling him to leave.

I'm out of juice, she kept thinking desperately. Her legs were getting soft and breathing became shallow. Blurred vision was making it impossible to concentrate and she knew- she used herself up too much to finish the mission. Suddenly there was only darkness and harshness of the metal floor on her cheek.

Next thing she felt was grass, wet and cold. Shivers down her body and headache spilling behind her eyes and down her neck. In the distance, the hospital was completely consumed by the fire. She could hear a few screams in the distance as she pulled herself slightly up on her elbows. The man was standing next to her and tried to help her up but she pushed him away, desperately looking at the hospital.

“No, no, no, no,” she kept saying to herself. The disk. It's still inside.

With small bits of gathered strength she threw herself weakly on her knees and tried to get up, refusing his help again. Few frail steps towards the hospital was all she could get out of her body. There was no hope. Everything was lost. Year of work- gone. Her mind filled up with rage and she looked up at the man, now standing behind her.

“You just lost me so much” she growled. “I really hope your life is worth more than the harddrive in this hospital was.”

He didn't answer, just looked at the flames without expression for some time and left, down into the forest behind.

***

He put the disk quietly next to her on a dirty bar table and without a word turned back to leave.

“Do you drink?” she asked, raising her head but not turning towards him. Instead, she gazed exhaustingly at the wall of dusty, colourful bottles behind the bar. Droplets of sweat went down her neck. The night was hot and heavy and ventilation of the bar was non-existent.

He hesitated for a moment but finally dragged one of the high bar chairs out and sat heavily next to her.

“Same what she's got,” he said to the barman and the tall, heavy man glowered at him before reluctantly pouring another pint.

It was one of these obscure places by the road. Dusty and sticky tables, broken jukebox and few dodgy characters. At this time of night there was not much to talk about anymore. Whoever managed to this hour, was already too tired of life or too settled in silence to disrupt it. While a middle aged lady in an apron was lazily walking around tables to collect bottles and glasses, a few blokes were gazing at her bottom and getting lost in their thoughts. Few dimmed lights were flickering above the bar, exposing wet staines of alcohol and few flies stuck in it.

They drank their beers in silence. Just like they were parts of a painting, perfectly fitted into their surroundings. Her dirty of smoke t-shirt and blood stained boots went well with his ripped, leather jacket and bloody scars on his strong face.

“I guessed you would still want it,” he finally said, looking at the empty glasses in front of them. “There's always a copy with the big boss.”

“I know.” she admitted and grabbed the drive. Her hand weighed it for a moment and stuffed it into a dirty backpack.

He just then caught sight of bruises on her neck and realised where they came from. Awkward shame came through his body and he turned his head back.

“I’m sorry about the neck.”

“It's cool,” she shrugged. “I get it.”

Her answer surprised him but he suddenly felt at ease. He nodded in understanding that there was to be no bad blood between the two of them.

“So what brings you here, to this lovely place?” Her voice became a bit more lively and strong. She finally examined him a bit closer.

“I am making amends.”

“Judging by the state I found you in, I guess there were some serious mistakes made in the past and you're not dealing with it best.” She lifted herself off of the chair, stretched her back and leaned on the bar, facing him. “You look like shit,” she added after a brief contemplation of his face and he looked slightly offended. “Do you have anywhere to sleep?”

“I have a car.”

“Where is your car?”

“I'm not entirely sure,” he admitted.

She grabbed her backpack off the floor and made her way to the door.

“Come on,” she looked behind at him. “I have a couch you can crash on and a shower you really need. Just no funny business,” she added, pointing her finger at him and he noticed that her whole body seemed weak.

***

Her place was a spacious, although old room in a motel just behind the bar. Brown carpets with some burned cigarette holes were blending together with old, beige wallpapers and yellow light from a skewed chandelier. A double bed was unmade and TV was playing news quietly in the corner, in front of an old, brown leather couch. His eyes wandered around while she walked straight to the small kitchenette. She pulled two more beers from a mini fridge and looked at him, checking if he wanted it. He did. Suddenly it felt to him as he has not had a moment of peace in years. She didn't want anything from him, they didn't even know each other's names. No details. And it gave him some sort of weird comfort, to be not known and not funded out about.

Ventilator fan was buzzing constantly behind the window and fainted, the red light of a neon sign was lazily making its way inside. They sat on the couch in silence, again. It felt like an unspoken agreement between them- we can just be next to each other and do nothing. And it felt like peace. It felt like a river suddenly stopped and became a lake. Unbothered surface of water and a breeze that does not dare to disturb it. They both felt it- the comfort of being alone together.

He spent this night on the couch but as soon as he fell asleep he would wake up again, covered in sweat. After few hours of that torture he just sat up and switched the tv on with the sound off. Flashing images took his mind away somewhere else for a while.

“You have as much luck as me today,” her voice made its way through the room. She was sitting up in her bed. “It's too hot to sleep. You can always roll up your sleeves,” she suggested in confusion, seeing him completely covered.

“No, it's fine. I've got a... thing.” He winced uncomfortably.

She wandered through the room towards him. Her long, brown hair put in a braid hung over her arm and down her chest. She proceeded to lay on the floor with a pillow under her head. It looked as if she'd been awake for a while as well. He saw the exact moment when her mind drifted away. Her gaze was unfocussed and breaths became longer and deeper. He allowed himself a moment of curiosity. Was it the heat that kept her awake or is there something tormenting her, just like something is tormenting me?

“You know,” she started with a quiet, melancholic voice, “tonight we could be whoever we wanted. Who would you be now?”

He thought that she felt like him, happy to be no one. Or anyone. And that it was bringing her peace for a few, brief hours. None of them spoke of any details with each other. There was just the present. Everything else was a blurred, chaotic turmoil. He didn't answer her.

“I guess I would be a girl from a lovely home who just one day decided to buy a used car, quit her boring job and hit the road. Let it all go.” She drowned for a while in her own thoughts, imagining all the could be and would be. “What about you?”

“I guess…” he thought for a moment, “I guess I would own a wooden hut in the forest, far away from everyone. I would have an old motorbike and would spend days trying to fix it. I would fish every other day. Sometimes I would go to visit an old friend from the army and we would go to a local bar.”

She nodded in understanding. It was a good life that he would have. A hut, a hobby, peace and quiet. Simple things that seemed so far away, unachievable. She wondered how his past could be similar to hers in real life if they both wanted to be far, living straight forward lives. He understands. She slowly drifted back into her daydream as he drifted into his. Comfortable silence filled the room and they spent the next hour imagining how it could be. None of them familiar with the kind of connection they felt with each other.

“Do you think we could leave it all behind?” She broke the silence again. “Just freefall and drift away. Would life keep up, would it hang onto us? Would the pain and chaos catch up and grab our legs, drag us back? Or we could always sleep through the night at last?”

They both knew it would. It would drag them by their legs, back into chaos. Or maybe, they would seek it out themselves? Unable to live in simplicity and clarity anymore. He looked at her and caught her gaze. She knew as well, but it was still, beautifully hopeful thought.

They finally slept. Her- on the floor, him- sitting up on the couch. But it was a good few hours of sleep that we needed, he thought when sneaking out of the room in the morning. Amends need to be made.