stardustchibiwriter

[stardustchibiwriter]

RADIOACTIVE (BUCKY BARNES)

"I want to go back to the time you first told me your name."

Rhiley, Howard Stark's twin sister, finds herself wrapped up with the one and only James Barnes. The next time she sees him, she's on her new assignment with the 107th Infantry Regiment. She's always been strong-willed and powerful, but will she be able to handle what is to come?

[stardustchibiwriter]

RADIOACTIVE (BUCKY BARNES & OC)

"I want to go back to the time you first told me your name."

Rhiley, Howard Stark's twin sister, finds herself wrapped up with the one and only James Barnes. The next time she sees him, she's on her new assignment with the 107th Infantry Regiment. She's always been strong-willed and powerful, but will she be able to handle what is to come?

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CHAPTER ONE -

Stagehands rushed like clockwork soldiers, adjusting curtains, whispering cues, and fussing over lights. The auditorium buzzed with anticipation.

Rhiley Lucia Stark tapped her boot impatiently, her chipped nails scratching along the hem of her glove. She watched her brother from across the room; Howard Stark: the brilliant showman, the "next big mind of the century," the man with ink-smudged hands and a head too full of gears and glory to notice the rest of the world spinning.

"You mind not drilling a hole into my skull with your eyes?" Howard didn't look up from his notes, but his irritation flared in his voice.

Rhiley arched a brow. "Well, excuse me for being the emotional support twin

"Emotional support implies you're emotionally supportive." He spun in his chair, waving a stained hand. "Talk to people. Mingle. Pretend to be human."

"I already have friends," she said dryly, lighting a cigarette with a sharp flick of her lighter.

"I'm your only friend." Howard gestured to her entirely. "People think you're gonna bite."

"You just gestured at me."

Howard groaned dramatically and ran a hand through his hair. "For the love of God, go flirt with a soldier or something."

"Gladly," Rhiley mused, stepping away from the wall with catlike grace. "Maybe one of them will be less of a smartass."

"I meant emotionally connect, not whatever that was." He looked up too late. She was already gone.

Howard sighed. She was going to be the death of him, and he'd never invent anything good from the grave.

Rhiley moved through the crowd like smoke, there and then not. This was familiar: weaving through strangers, ghosting through lives. It had been three months since the incident, the one no one dared name. They'd yanked her from the field and put her on forced rest like she was some broken doll they were scared to wind back up.

She hated it. The soft prison of concern. The tight leash Howard kept around her like he thought she might vanish if he blinked.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Howard's voice boomed overhead, snapping her from her thoughts. "What if I told you that, in just a few years, your automobile won't need roads at all?"

Rhiley smiled, despite herself. There was her brother, selling the dream, painting futures from thin air and metal. Even when the car sputtered mid-hover and wobbled back to earth, he didn't flinch.

"I did say a few years, didn't I?"

The crowd laughed. So did Rhiley.

She headed toward the bar, intent on teasing him for the glitch, but barely made it two steps before someone barreled into her. Hard.

"Shit—" She hissed, landing awkwardly, her hand grabbing her lower back.

"I am so sorry," came the voice, sheepish and warm.

Rhiley looked up, scowling, and froze. A hand was extended toward her. And the face attached to it... well, damn. Whoever he was, he was grinning like he'd won a prize.

"I wasn't watching," he said, not apologizing again so much as offering the moment.

She slapped his hand away and shoved herself up. "Clearly. Next time, you'll be the one on the floor."

"Fair enough." The soldier chuckled. "But, hey, I can't say I regret bumping into a pretty lady like you."

She squinted at him, suspicious. His confidence wasn't the usual kind. It was relaxed. Easy.

"Name's James," he offered, hand still hanging in the air like a peace treaty.

"I didn't ask." But she took it anyway—mostly to prove a point. The second their hands touched, a jolt snapped between them.

"Whoa," James said, eyes wide. "That's a first. Looks like we've got a spark, Angel Eyes."

Rhiley's expression turned ice cold. "Don't call me that."

He raised his brows. "Okay, what should I call you, then?"

She hesitated. Then muttered, "Rhiley."

"Isn't that a guy's name?"

"My parents were stubborn. Surprise girl. They didn't budge."

James laughed. Loudly. "Well, Rhiley, I'm glad I ran into you. Literally. But I'm supposed to be dragging my friend out before he does something stupid."

Rhiley hesitated. Why was she still standing here? Why did her voice come out before her brain stopped it? "Need help? I'm good at preventing stupidity."

He looked genuinely delighted. "You don't say? It'd be nice to have company."

She nodded stiffly, and they started walking through the crowd.

"What does your friend look like?"

"Blond. Blue-eyed. Determined but in a kind of 'please don't do that' way. Actually—about your height."

Rhiley gave him a look. "Name?"

"Steve Rogers."

They wove through dancers, the noise a blur behind them.

"Are you just with your friend?" 

"We're actually on a double date." He looked behind him as if trying to look for the woman he had abandoned to look for his idiotic friend but found himself looking back at Rhiley within seconds. "You here alone?" he asked. "Or on a date?" 

"With my brother. Twin, technically." She shakes her head. "I don't date." Why did it sting when he said he was here with a girl? 

"Twin?" He grinned. "Never met twins before."

"Well, now you've met half of one." Her tone was dry. "Thrilling, I know."

James chuckled. "Is it true you can feel what the other feels? Get hurt when he gets hurt?"

"That's a dumb myth."

"Shame." He paused, then: "Why don't you date?"

She shot him a look. "That's personal."

He just waited.

She sighed. "Because I'm not built for the housewife fantasy. I don't cook, I don't care about curtains, and most men can't handle a woman who talks back."

James smiled. "I think you'd be surprised."

Rhiley didn't meet his eyes. Something warm was creeping up her neck. "Is that him?" she asked, pointing.

James lit up. "That's him."

She stayed behind as he rushed over to the blond kid. Their voices carried just enough.

"Steve!" James said, exasperated. "You doing this again?"

Rhiley listened, arms crossed. Steve Rogers didn't look like much, but the way he spoke... it was like something burned in him. A flicker of something fierce.

"I'm not gonna sit on the sidelines," he said. "This isn't about me."

Rhiley caught herself smiling. Then, she caught herself feeling—which was worse.

As James and Steve hugged, she stepped back. Just a stranger, just a ghost again. This was temporary. He had a date. A life.

Still, she watched as he turned, like maybe he'd look back.

He didn't.

"See you around, James Buchanan Barnes," she muttered, vanishing into the crowd.

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The music swelled behind her, brass and strings weaving into a lively backdrop as Rhiley made her way back to the bar, her expression unreadable. She ordered something strong without speaking, just a raise of her brow and a look that told the bartender not to ask questions.

She took a sip, then leaned her elbows against the counter, watching the blur of dancing bodies. The weight of the evening pressed down on her—not heavy, just... constant. A dull ache in her chest she wasn't used to recognizing as loneliness.

"Twins," she muttered to herself, "always getting the raw end of the sentiment."

Howard's presentation was long over. He stood in the corner, laughing loudly with some politician or general, already moving on to the next deal, the next dream, the next invention.

He caught her eye and raised his drink in mock salute. She raised hers back, unimpressed.

"You disappear and leave me to my adoring public," Howard said, finally walking over. "And here I thought you came to support me."

"I did." She gestured to the bar. "I supported you with alcohol and second-hand embarrassment."

Howard smirked. "Admit it. You were impressed."

"I admit you didn't blow anything up this time. So, yes, consider me mildly surprised."

"You okay?" he asked, voice softening just a touch.

Rhiley didn't answer right away. She stared down into her drink like it held a fortune. "I met someone," she said finally, not sure why she did.

Howard blinked. "Met someone as in... a guy?"

"Relax. It's not a scandal. He bumped into me. Literally." She took another sip. "Soldier. Name's James."

Howard frowned. "That Barnes kid?"

"You know him?"

"Not personally, but his file came across my desk when we were doing background checks for the SSR recruitment project. Good soldier. Loyal to a fault. Best friend, Steve Rogers."

Rhiley's brow ticked up. "The one trying to enlist under fake names?"

Howard nodded. "That one. Heart of gold, paper-thin chest. I like him."

Rhiley hummed. "They're trouble. Both of them."

Howard gave her a look. "So of course, you like them."

She gave a half-smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Doesn't matter. It was a blip. He's on a date. I'm a Stark."

Howard's eyes narrowed slightly. "That supposed to mean something?"

"You know what it means." She finished her drink. "I don't get soft stories. I get secrets and shadows."

He sighed. "You don't have to be a ghost all the time, Rye."

"Maybe I do," she said, shrugging on her coat.

Howard opened his mouth to argue, but someone called his name, and he was pulled back into the crowd. Rhiley slipped away while he was distracted, vanishing like a breath in the cold.

-

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-

Outside, the air bit at her skin, and her boots echoed against the stone steps. She lit another cigarette, letting the smoke curl between her fingers, then paused.

She wasn't alone.

"Couldn't let you disappear without saying goodbye," James's voice said softly.

Rhiley turned her head, startled. He was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, that same damned smile on his face.

"You ditched your date."

He shrugged. "She had a friend. He's taller. I think they'll be fine."

Rhiley huffed. "You've got guts, Barnes."

"I'm impulsive," he corrected. "There's a difference."

They stood there for a beat. Then—

"You said something earlier," he began, "about no man respecting the person you are."

Rhiley tensed. "Don't repeat it. I was being honest, not fishing."

"I know," James said. "That's why I wanted to say something."

He stepped a little closer, not enough to threaten, just enough to be real. "You don't need to be easy to love. You just need someone strong enough to try."

Rhiley looked away, overwhelmed by the weight of the words. No one had ever tried to see past the sharp parts before. Most people flinched.

But James just stood there. Waiting. Giving her space to speak or leave.

She flicked her cigarette aside and muttered, "I don't do relationships."

"I don't do promises," he said. "But I do chances. So... maybe I'll see you again?"

She hesitated, then allowed herself the smallest smirk.

"Maybe."

Then she turned and walked off into the dark.

And for once, she didn't feel like a ghost.

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