Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When will this ever stop?

When will life make sense and stay that way? Each and every time you tried to put yourself out there, to move on and move passed, he always pulled you back in. He’s always there. A ghost lurking in the corner, not causing destruction but shuffling things just barely out of place. Just enough for you to notice - to always wonder and lust for what was and fear what is right now.

Every damn time.

Your stomach clenched, acid churning. You could throw up. You wanted to throw up so, perhaps, maybe, you can be rid of this nausea. You wanted to be rid of this pain.

Please let this be a lie. Please let this be a lie. Please. Not now. Not now.

You watched Peter pick your phone off the floor. You vaguely remembered dropping it as those words were uttered. There was no greetings from the caller - your caller. There was no easing into in. No. Never can it be easy for you or this family.

Screaming or crying. Which one would erupt first?

Either seemed appropriate yet you were arrested, watching your son’s face as he continued on the phone. He said something and then hung up. He delicately placed your phone on the sofa, walked to the stairs, and hollered for his sister to come down.

He came back to the room as he held eye contact with you. As his fingers threaded yours, you knew the truth. Your eldest could never lie to you. He was always open and sweet and caring.

You dropped to your knees. You were going to throw up. You scrambled and crawled to the nearest bathroom to release your agony.

It had only just begun.

Chapter Text

The neighborhood lanes blurred into city streets and highways. You were out of control - numb yet shaking; you tried to remain calm but felt your reality unravel. You were their mother. You were supposed to be the pillar of strength but all you wanted to do was crumble into his arms. You needed your caller and not that damned ghost.

Why can’t things just stay? Just make sense?

Nothing stuck to you as you watched your children leave the car. Nothing registered as you waited by the compound doors. Nothing reminded you of this once peaceful, safe home of metal, glass, and superheroes.

Your periphery was hazy from the tears and the confusion. This can’t be.

Eyes downcast but your body was taut with exhaustion, fear, and a touch of hope. In that moment, you thought you were a horrible mother. You were supposed to take care of them. You were the one who was supposed to hold Peter tight in an embrace - not Tony. You were supposed to stroke Jade’s hair as she leaned into your side - not Sam. This wasn’t supposed to be your life.

Eyes were searching, pleading, and pitiful. All of them were on you. The room was thick and hot and you wanted to run so far away. You weren’t strong like you used to be. You weren’t steel like all those years before. No, you were lead - all soft, dense, and ductile.

And then his voice sounded, filling you with warmth. He would always say that you were gold - shining and precious and pure.

You reached out behind, hand begging for your caller, your protector, your whole new world. And, without missing a beat, a warm hand slid into yours. With a simple tug, you fell into his arms, head pressed against his broad chest. You clawed at the back of his shirt tucked underneath his tactical jacket. The front buckles and snaps dug into your cheek but you didn’t care.

“Jamie. Please, Jamie, tell me this is a fucking terrible lie. Tell me that he’s a shapeshifter or Skrull or whatever. Please tell me this isn’t happening. I can’t handle this. Our kids can’t handle this. Shit, I know I can’t handle this.” Breath escaped you. Muffling your gasps, you turned your head to fully bury your face into his solid chest.

His metal hand was cooling as stroked the back of your neck. His fingers gently massaged the base of your scalp. “Breathe, sug’. Breathe.”

“I’d rather pass out.” You pouted.

The rumble in his chest was the only evidence of his mirth.

“I’m being serious.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, “I know, love. At this point, all we can do is laugh and celebrate. This is a good thing. It’s him. All the tests -”

“Those can easily be manipulated.”

He leaned further down, shoulders hunching to accommodate for your lack of stature. “Tony, Banner, Scott, the Pyms...all the eggheads figured it out and pulled him from the quantum realm.”

That acidic bile burned your stomach, flooding your veins yet again. Absolute fuck.

The tears brimmed again but you dragged them back down into your soul. You had to find that steel again. You couldn’t continue to be lead and you couldn’t be his gold.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and stepped away from James Buchanan. Shaking your head and finger-combing your tangled hair, you pulled the hairband from your wrist to create a tight bun. It was time to be serious.

Jade’s eyes shone with hope - so much hope. You smiled at Sam as you placed a kiss upon the crown of her hair. Her curly hair smelled sweet with a hint of Shea and Johnson and Johnson’s. She was so very young. At eleven years old, she’d seen too much. More than too much. Just like her older brother.

As you move towards Peter, he stood taller. “You okay, mama?” He will always be your strong, loving boy.

Smiling softly, you brush your palm against his cheek.

“Where is he?” Voice devoid of the stress, fear, and hollowness you felt.

The others in the room looked to Bucky. Earth’s mightiest heroes (sans the galaxy heroes) were lost. Heads hung low, fingers twitching, legs fidgeting; all were turning to you for final confirmation. Their hesitancy was off-putting but, somehow, fueled your resolved. Only you could truly be sure.

That’s the way love goes.

“Where?”

Bucky came beside you. His jaw tight, eyes composed, hands relaxed. He was prepared for a battle.

So were you.

The quiet walk down the hall was comforting. You saw the handful of vetted technicians, doctors, and other personnel move around you as you stayed the course.Though your James was leading, you knew you were guiding.

Ghosts always need a guiding force, right? An anchor to this realm that kept them here and now. Was that you? Were you willing to be the connection between realities?

He pushed open the last set of doors. You knew them well. The medical floor. This was it.

White, sterile lights illuminated the large area. Glass walls gleamed. Metal instruments, industrial grey and vinyl accented area. Curtains here and there. All around you were ghosts. Terrible spectres that always let you know how dangerous this life was and will always be.

You scanned the 180 degree view and just barely saw the outline on a bed off to your left. All the way to the back.

Tucked in the corner like all ghosts are.

“I love you.” His voice. You turned to look behind you.

Oh did you love this man. You took in his disheveled hair, wisps stuck to his face. He’d grown it out again. But, damn, that first time you saw him with a proper hair cut - for a brief second all other moments, circumstances, and precipitating events be damned. He took your breath away.

His grey-blue eyes morphed, softened as you locked gazes. “I love you, too.”

Clearing his throat, Bucky ducked his head. “Right in there.”

Just before taking that first step, you collided with your Winter Soldier as he held you close. Nose buried in the crook of your neck, his fingers latched onto the belt loops of your jeans.

This time you gave him comfort. Your hands pulled his long hair out of its tie. Gingerly threading your fingers through his hair, you soothed him. Words of admiration, gratitude, love, and just a hint of lust were murmured as a weary smile settled over your lips.

A few moments later, he pulled away. “I don’t know -”

“One step at a time.” Stepping up to give a reassuring kiss, you hesitated, maneuvering your dried lips to touch his cheek.

You felt more than heard his sigh.

Untangling from your new life, you began to agonizingly put one foot in front of the other. As you slowly pulled from his orbit, his cool hand latched around your wrist.

“What?” You uttered with more bite than you intended. As you took him in, you instantly regretted it. Reality hit you hard thanks to your ghost.

Strangled, mangled, bereft, haunted, wistful, and agonizing.

Those were but a few words that attempted (and failed) to accurately describe this exact moment. And yet your heart still crackled, smoldered, and burned for him.

“My god I want to kiss you so hard right now. But...”

“I know.” He couldn’t meet your gaze. Your James. Your Jamie. Uncle B to your children.

“So,”

“This.”

His metal fingertips barely brushed against your hand.

Oh dear fuck Lord no.

“You know it’s true.”

Your eyes cut into his. You hated that he remained calm through this. You hated that he thought of all this. You hated that he brought this on. You hated that you would have to hide him.

A wrangled sob pathetically crawled from your lips. “I know. I can’t. Will you? I know it’s too much but please. James, love, please.”

You hated this. You hated ghosts.

You just knew that with what science has proved, what your clients have shown, what secrets that were privy to you, what extraterrestrial truly looked like, what circumstances, battles, skirmishes, expectations, actualities, dreams, desires, brutalities, truths, power, freedom, trust, and every motherfucking thing else that was now out that there that, indeed, ghost were real. What you knew about it all was that they could be mists, memories, plasma, or fleeting. They were true. They were real.

And this ghost was more than real. He was solid.

He was here. And, hopefully, not.

With yet another squeeze, your Jamie caught your attention. “Keep playing. I won’t go in there.” It was an flailing attempt of a joke yet there was more truth than hilarity.

The sound of your name drifted across his red, cracked lips. “I’ll keep this for now.”

His thumb rasped over the ring on your left finger. Watching his gunmetal grey thumb pass over the beautiful, inspiring blue-green sapphire ring, a new set of strength locked within. This should have done the opposite yet truth was always more grounding for you.

“Oh,” You watched as he took off your engagement ring, pocketing it.

Yet again did the bile rise.

There are still moments when your ghost gave you dreams and promises. You hated that a tiny piece of you ached for him even with James laying solid and humming with desire beside you. In those fleeting flashes, you felt like you were borrowing from...something - someone. And now those debts will be collected and you weren’t sure you were willing to cash out.

Oh-ho. Typically, paying out would be nothing to you at all. However, prices fluctuates. You may not be able to afford this one at all.

Seeing your naked hand, you strode towards the the fifth room.

Miraculously, your stomach stopped roiling. You muscles stopped twitching. Your clenched jaw slackened. Your demeanor shifted.

As you approached that specific medical bay, you felt numb. A different sort. A heartier sort.

Eyes locked on the metal push button, you took the leap.

Crisply clean air and a singular bright light was what first assaulted your senses. You couldn’t look.

You heard the clinical sheets rumple and crinkle as he shifted.

Ghost don’t crinkle the way he did. At least, that’s was your opinion.

And then your name was uttered. All lovingly, desperately - familiar.

All too familiar.

Taking your own solid and practiced advice, you slowed down. You allowed yourself to take in the linoleum floor. The grey bed wheels that were in the locked positioned.

Again that damned rumple-rustle.

You saw the beige base with two large shelves embedded. The cushioned bed with guard rails. Before you could see the owner of the pair of quilt-sheathed feet, you glanced over your right shoulder.

James was there. Well, a mix of the Winter Soldier and Bucky was positioned by the door, peering into the door window.

There was a sigh. A sigh that was not your own. You turned back around.

It’s time. You are more than capable. You ARE more than capable.

With one last exhale, shallow as it was, you looked up.

There was man in a barely loose white T-shirt sitting on the hospital bed. His shoulders wide and waist tapered. His visage familiar and not even aged - regardless of technology, bio-mechanics, and quantum mechanics and physics.

He looked just like that day. Like that day he deceived you.

Forearms slopping and etched in veins that throbbed regardless of the harm or nurturing activities they thrived in.

Echoes reverberated between the four walls. That’s it.

Your eyes locked onto his. They were blue. Bluer than blue. And his intense gaze drained you.

Moments ticked by.

There he was. There was your husband.