#//Gaia has to prepare herself for her own final battles and encounters once she leaves him

[unboundtravels]

SHORT TRIPS; UNBOUNDNOVEMBER 21/23: TWILIGHT

"What about me?" "If there was something I could do about that, I would. I guess we're both just going to have to be brave."

 It feels like it’s raining. Although the clouds hang in the way of the sun, there is still an afternoon afterglow… and yet despite the months still creeping through the midst of summer, the wind is still very cold today in the city of Freedom. There is an almost unanimous silence save for the howling and the whipping of the wind… the beating of the flags that flow through the breeze. The water of the fountain is still, and the lights are low. The world almost looks distinctly colorless… absent of the cool aftertaste that’d follow a pleasant warmth. The world feels more absent today.

The People of Mondstadt did not care much for Lady Eula Lawrence. Her bloodline was responsible for many, if not most of, the issues that plagued Mondstadt so fiercely into its present. To this very day, The Knights of Favonius were working hard to clean up the mess of those who had come before. Of those Knights was Lady Lawrence, who was fiercely dedicated in her pursuit of redemption… and yet she dealt every day with the harsh whispers of those who could not separate the past from the present… those who did not understand the ever-changing nature of the human soul and its relationship to time. 

They were wrong about her. That is the truth of the matter. Eula was a beautiful soul, a kind and dedicated one. She looked out for those in need and did what she could to help the innocent. Considered by many of her allies to be a responsible friend and an excellent warrior, she was supported unconditionally by those under her command. Eula was the best of parts of Humanity condensed into one singular form… not bound by convention… solving her problems in a unique way and handling the world one day at a time. The people of Mondstadt were simply wrong about Eula Lawrence.

When the chips were down, The city of Mondstadt was threatened… when the whole of creation was threatened… Eula stepped forward, to act as a shield for her people and her home. She could’ve turned away, could’ve stood on the sidelines… but it was her nature and her responsibility to put her home first. There was no love lost between her and Mondstadt, but the fact of the matter was that there were people there who were counting on her, and she had to return. No one could fault her for that. Even if they’d fail, at least they’d fail together… and while they were together, nothing could dismay the Knights and their cause.

It feels like it’s raining.

It’s been a week since the threat of Celestia was quelled, and the people of Teyvat were freed from the confines of an oppressive destiny. The road there was not without sacrifice, however… and of those who stood and fought, not all came out intact. Among those who had fought and been claimed by the battle… was Lady Eula Lawrence. She died as she lived: Protecting those who meant the most to her. Her friends— the family she’d made after cutting ties with the clan that she’d disgraced. In the knights, she’d found new meaning and new purpose… or at least, the start of that new purpose, and she was happy. However, that would not stop her fellow Knights from mourning her loss.

The Funeral service ended an hour ago, and Outrider Amber stood near the entrance of the Favonious Headquarters, the wind biting at her skin. She wonders why it feels like it’s raining despite the absence of thunderclouds or rain. Perhaps Barbatos is allowing them to have the feeling and the sensations without the fuss. Amber is allowed to live in denial for just a bit longer, wiping away tears with her thumb as she shudders out an exhale. Despite the fact that the people of Mondstadt had cared very little about Eula, her last act of life had opened eyes and touched hearts. Everyone had been at her funeral… and she’d just escaped the fond wishes and condolences… but The Outrider’s mind was scattered.

The Captain of The Cavalry Guard and The Grandmaster had noted how distracted she’d looked… chalking it up to grief and attempting to comfort the Outrider over the loss of her friend. Although Amber had tried to explain with sincere genuineness that she was simply looking for someone in the crowd. She didn’t see him in the service, she didn’t see him in the wake, and even as the people exited the church and returned to their homes… she didn’t see him. She eventually, almost dejectedly, sat on the steps leading up to The Favonious Headquarters. A sigh escaped her, and her fingers grazed at a wooden box carefully. He was looking for The Spindrift’s companion, as Lady Lawrence had left one more thing for the one her heart belonged to. Amber was almost ready to give up until her eyes saw the crowd thinning… and there, walking toward the gate out of the city…

She was at first taken aback by the fact that she had failed to notice a man not wearing any black, wearing an outfit he’d wear as if it were any other day of the week. A green cargo jacket over a black T-shirt, fingerless cotton gloves, dark denim blue jeans, and high-top sneakers… with a messenger bag strapped across his chest. He had a sun-kissed complexion dotted with many freckles and hair that was swept into an almost bed-razzled look. The Outrider didn’t even hesitate to sprint toward him… to try and catch him before he vanished. 

“Doctor!! Doctor—!!”

She stopped at his side, expecting him to turn away… but when he turned to face her, Amber was again taken aback by The Doctor’s complexion. The Doctor was a very bright individual, usually. With Eula, he was fiery and charismatic… but also on occasion, he was icy and powerful. He clearly wasn’t of this world, and he made no attempt to hide that. She was just taken aback by how neutral his expression was. Numbness, and with eyes that sagged very low. He looked no older than twenty-three, usually. Right now, however, those eyes looked ever so ancient… as if they’d walked circles around the universe thousands of times over. Perhaps this is just genuinely what the man looked like when he was distraught, though… 

“I… didn’t see you at the service.” She started, trying to get any reaction out of him, any sort of sign that he was feeling some type of emotion. He looked like he was on autopilot, just blankly staring at her while he contemplated thousands of thoughts all in the span of a couple of microseconds. She wasn’t sure if she should really force him to stay, as he clearly was just stopping by out of respect for Eula. They had such an incredibly deep connection. In the few months before the catastrophe that recalled Eula home, The Doctor had appeared in Eula’s life almost like a sort of fairytale prince. He dropped from the sky, whisking her off into planets and skies unknown… showing her all sorts of things that defied the laws of logic and imagination. Amber knew, from the way that Eula looked at him…

It was love. In its purest form.

The Doctor needed Eula to find himself in a brave new universe, and Eula needed The Doctor to give her a home where she could truly detach from what defined her on Teyvat. The Doctor had a light in his eyes that ignited a fire within Eula’s heart. They were like sunshine, an unstoppable duo. Eula was gone though, and The Doctor was all alone, now. She saw the way that realization had cemented itself in his mind. She began to understand why The Doctor looked so numb, right now… simply by thinking it through, she saw a man who wanted to lock himself away from the world and cry because the world had become so much colder without his other half. Amber knew now that she should not keep him for long.

“She… wanted you to have this.” Amber found the words sticking in her throat, coming out through chokes. Completing this final request for Eula seemed to cement the realization in her mind that her friend was truly gone. “She—” Amber struggled to recall the details of what Eula had explained to her, about why she’d left The Doctor to return home. She was very vague, as always… but she seemed to allude to… the idea that… she had had no choice. “She knew this was very hard for you, Doctor.”

She saw his face twinge, and that was confirmation enough for her to know that he was not soulless, or on autopilot… but that he was bottling everything up to unleash in a space that was unrestricted and unjudging. She shouldn’t keep him, but she also knew that once he left… she wouldn’t see him again, and the idea of him having no one simply left her a little heartbroken. Amber choked on more words, but she forced them out simply because she knew he needed to hear it.

“She loved you very much.”

She saw another twinge in the face muscle. He acknowledged that but kept his mouth as tightly shut as he could for fear of breaking under the pressure of his own emotions. Hesitantly, he took the wooden box and wordlessly turned away from Amber. She had so much she wanted to say and yet she knew he probably already knew. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but he probably already knew that. She wanted to ask him if he was going to be okay but was sure he wouldn’t answer her. She looked for any indication that the man was going to be able to walk back from the edge and was scared to let him go because of it. Although her feet remained planted very firmly at the border of the gate… she watched that man walk toward the Police Box at the end of the bridge, entering it wordlessly.

The sounds of its engines echoed outward as The Box’s lantern began to flash… and the wind cleared so that it could fade away from reality. So many tears were slipping out, now. Amber’s hands remained clenched firmly toward her chest as she watched for a long moment as if she was waiting for something. All she could do was give a prayer to the wind that the man would be safe upon his travels, and that the spirit of freedom would follow him wherever he went. There was a light in his eyes that seemed to spread like an infectious warmth across the universe… The Outrider would be very upset if it went out… as would a great many others, as well.

The TARDIS was quiet. Its hum echoed out like the ticking of a clock in an empty room. Its lights were dimmer, the console quieter. The Wooden box was placed against one of the panels of the console as his jacket rested against the seat nearest to the console. The Doctor reached to flick for switches as the rotor in the center of the room sunk up and down. He wasn’t sure where he was going… but he was just going somewhere. His mind was buzzing with a silence that he couldn’t really describe. It was strange to be alone with his thoughts, especially when they weren’t uttering a single word. A heavy exhale left his chest through his nose as his eyes caught the box when it came into his peripheral.

He almost hesitated to reach for it, because he knew that looking beneath the hinges would cement the reality he was looking to ignore. As soon as he admitted to himself that he wanted to ignore it, he knew that he needed to face it. His hands found the box and he very slowly opened it. Neutral expressions immediately faltered beneath the weight of what the box held. Softened gaze began to tear up as brows furrowed together and a shaky hand reached in for one of the first items. His thumb traced over the glass texture of an extinguished vision. Eula carried it with her at all times… how could he not recognize it? His head tilted softly. It wasn’t indifferent to holding someone’s heart in your hands…

He slid the vision into his pocket, reaching back into the box to pull out the crest of her family. The Doctor had learned much about his human companion to learn about the crest of the Lawrence family, and how much weight it had carried. The fact that she left it for him seemed like a solemn admission that she had wished for more from him. His face softened again as he began to feel pain in his hearts over all the what-ifs that he’d missed. He wasn’t an idiot… he knew that what he’d had with Eula was more than intimate… but he began to feel pain in his chest over all the missed opportunities to tell her just how much she’d meant to him. Pressing the crest to his upper lip softly, he repressed more choked winces as he looked back into the box. 

This next item nearly killed him. He almost hesitated to grab it. Inside the box was a Cecilia that had wilted deeply since she’d given it to him. He knew that he’d kept it close by on the TARDIS, but she must’ve found it and taken it away with her into battle. Now she wanted it to return to its rightful owner. The Doctor’s face had sunken into something so low and deep now that his head felt like it had a weight. When he touched the Cecilia flower, he had to immediately put the box down. It was sort of like touching something that had gone from warm to cold… the realization that there was no more life within an object was cemented by that transition.

The Doctor exhaled, shakily. Tears had begun streaming down his face as he looked toward the rotor. There was silence as he kept his eyes away from anything aside from The Cecilia because looking back at it reminded him of their last conversation. Heal yourself. The memories of every moment he’d ever cherished with The Lady Lawrence crept into his mind and seemed to make every passing second more and more painful… and the tears came down in an abundance that left him a bit blind from the blurry vision. He wiped away the tears with the base of his palm and slid the flower into the control panel of the TARDIS. With his hands empty, he just stared up at the TARDIS rotor and let the tears stream down until he could get a handle on himself. Sometimes he’d stop, thinking that his emotions had finally calmed, only for them to start again. So there was a long silence, where The Doctor stood in silence over the controls and felt his eyes darting across the console room before eventually, he felt himself restraining enough to at least sink back into numbness. He heaved another sigh before he moved to look at where the monitor was taking him. His fingers traced against the vision in his pocket for a moment as his thumb flicked through the monitor’s scans. He needed to just… get back on the road, again. His eyes caught Cecilia again and eventually he just… stared off, again…. Toward the wall. The room felt much emptier without her, and when the realization that Eula Lawrence was truly gone sunk in…

The Console room was deafeningly quiet now. Save for the sound of the engines and the distant sound of the hum. He exhaled, looking down at the controls. History was repeating itself. Of course, it was. It always did. For a moment, sorrow melts into a deeper resentment of himself. The Timelord rests one hand in his pocket whilst he flips various switches and twists various dials before the second hand is deposited into his opposite pocket, and he's left just staring.

Imagine having the power to change whole moments of history. To alter the very fabric of reality. Imagine having the power to move heaven and earth for ordinary people... but never being able to use that power to save the people who really matter the most to you. Imagine being left with a gaping hole in your chest every time you re-enter this console room by yourself, knowing the home someone else had made for themselves was within yours... and realizing that life has just gone back to the bitterness of what it had been before.

The last time he was alone, he was wearing someone else's face. He had made connections, gained new titles, and lost just as much. He'd endured pain, suffering, and heartache. He'd seen the top of the mountain, breathed the clean air of victory, and lived out a wild dream of passion and joy.

Only for it to be back to how it was when he was at the bottom of the barrel. He'd done so much to come to peace with what had happened, with where he'd gone and what he'd done. He'd regained his title, come to terms with his fate, and he'd even conquered destiny itself. Or at least, he thought he had. Never had he been so humbled before, and the price of his arrogance was this.

The loneliness.

This is what it feels like to be The Doctor. Not the joy or the happiness of the never-ending thrill, but the crushing lonely bitter sadness that comes afterward. The sound of silence in a place people once called their home ringing through your ears. The pain of knowing that you had the power to save the people you cared about, but choosing to do your duty as the last of your kind instead. To maintain the web of time. Humbled again by the beast you'd thought you'd conquered: time. This is what it means to be The Last of The Timelords. Everlasting loneliness throughout all of time and space.

All he can do is endure. It's all he has left. 

He exhales, heavily.

"Goodbye, Spindrift." He remarks as he leaves another chapter of his life behind. 

There'll never be another like you. 

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

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