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The Happenings In the Art of Starting Over

Summary:

James Buchanan Barnes is a broken man who is whisked away to the remote and serene land of Wakanda. His colleagues begin to believe if there is anyone who could try and help him it will be Irene. And try she will. But healing Bucky won't come easy, he is stubborn and scared and wants nothing to do with Irene and her powers. Helping Bucky will be a journey of trials and tribulations, Irene knows that. And yet, she still saunters over to him with a smile.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!Mutant! OC

Word Count:

I do NOT give permission for my work to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. My work is my own.

CHAPTER TWO

Irene preferred the cold. Perhaps that's why she enjoyed sleeping in a tank top, and training in a tank top. She at one point believed in her past lives she was some species of cold-blooded reptilian. Perhaps a gecko, as they too could change shades.

The last week had been horrific. Although she was locked in the compound, Irene hadn't spoken to Wanda. She knew her friend was furious she had signed the accords. Vision claimed Wanda felt discarded by Irene's decision.

But Irene just wanted her to see it from a different perspective. The consequences that came with their continuous freelanced heroism. Ross was right, they were practically vigilantes. And Irene just wanted to do what was best for them all.

But Alas, Wanda hadn't seen it that way, and she wasn't the only one. Of course Tony gloated about the compound knowing his precious Irene has taken his side—Natasha too.

But Irene couldn't ignore that Steve skipped out on their usual morning coffees as she taught him more sign language. Or how Sam slightly chuckled at her jokes now and didn't bellow out like he'd use too. She was observant, her family felt betrayed. But secretly, so did she.

Irene walked into the kitchen. With her presence, Steve and Sam's conversation ceased. She rolled her eyes, this act was getting old. If they had something to say, the could just say it.

"Don't stop on my account.' She spoke up, pulling the eggs from the refrigerator. "Not like I can hear you anyways." She pointed to hear ear lobes that were missing her hearing aids.

"Why don't you have them in.' Steve sat his coffee down, steam still rolling from the lip of the mug.

Irene shrugged, moving from the refrigerator to the seasoning cabinet. "Felt like painting them today." She closed the appliances.

"Isn't that dangerous." Sam said, as she continued to read their lips.

She shrugged once more. "Why do you care, you've barely spoken to me in a week."

Sam scoffed.

"That doesn't mean we don't care." Steve signed.

"I did what i thought was best, for us." Irene signed back, the room suddenly silent.

"So did I." Steve signed again, watching as Sam's eyes drew back and fourth between them.

"You're going to get arrested,' she said this time, letting loose a shaky breath free from her chest. "or worse."

"We will be fine.' Steve said. "It's you I worry about."

"Why?' She frowned. "I'm not the one turning myself into a vigilante and posing as a hero."

"That's how you see us?" Sam interjected.

"Right now, yes! You're being unreasonable and pretending it's an act of selflessness." She glared between them both.

"Irene, cut it out!' Steve shouted. "You wouldn't know selflessness if it fell right in front of you."

Irene stepped back from Steve as her eyes widened then narrowed. She slammed the egg carton down, forgoing her breakfast. Some days she despised being partially deaf. Today, was not one of those days. Because the last thing she wanted to do was hear what Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers had to say as she flounced away.

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Irene knew Steve could be stubborn, he was an old man after all. But she never knew he could be so mean. What had she done to deserve being called selfish? Her actions weren't selfish, and even if they were, they were her choices. And she refused to let anyone take that away from her, again.

Irene wiped the teal paint off onto her pants, carefully dipping the paint brush into the acrylic paint. She hadn't had much to do these days, so she decided on a fun project for herself—a distraction she hoped.

She dipped one paint brush into a brownish red shade and painted small flowers over the teal she had coated her hearing aids in. She still remembers the day Tony gave these to her. The moment she had put them in, it had given her life a whole new meaning.

Tony couldn't cure her partial deafness. But with the hearing aids sounds became somewhat coherent, they were just muffled. Nevertheless she could hear what was important, and that's all that mattered.

Without them, an ill ringing noise pieced through the cabinet of her ears. But so many years with that sound, she'd just gotten use to it.

Irene smiled at her hearing aids, blowing on them to give them the extra push they needed to dry. She sat up and readjusted her posture, cringing as she heard her back bones crack. But as her back arched over the top of her desk chair, she saw Friday in the corner of her room flashing red.

She immediately stood up, looking at her door then looking back at Friday's flashing lights. Tony had told Irene why he'd installed the lights for her around this compound and others. And it only meant one thing—danger.

Quickly, Irene slipped on a pair on gym shoes and a sweater. Walking through her bedroom door her eyes widened in fear. Bands of people whisked past her face running away from the foreseen danger down the hall.

Irene watched the hysteria on the faces of those who ran by. She rolled up her sleeves in preparation of what she might face. But before she could round the corner a man was thrown into the glass behind her, shattering it. Splinters of the glass slicing into her calf.

She winced, bending down to assess the wounds. On the floor she was at eye level with a pair of black boots that slowly stalked over to where she was knelt down.

Her eyes slowly peeled up and was met face to face with a man. She'd seen this man before. Not only in Steve's head, but on the news. This man was the winter solider.

Irene was typically the avengers defense. Using her shapeshifting and psionic abilities to distract their enemies. She was not an offensive fighter, and from what she'd heard about the winter solider, she was screwed.

Irene quickly stood up, turning to make a run for it. But it seemed before she could even move, his hands were grappled around her waist. And in a split second she was thrusted above his head and tossed behind him, landing in a pile of glass. She cried out in pain, rolling in the glass as she cradled her side only making it worse.

She used her palm to push herself up from the ground. With slick thinking the outline of her body flashed purple, suddenly changing shades into Steve Rogers. She walked over to Bucky slowly.

"You know me, Buck." She held out her bloody hand, feeling confident in Steve's shape. "It's okay." Her voice was soft.

But that only seemed to anger him as his nostrils flared. He raised his metal arm slapping Irene in the face. She flew backwards, her body doing somersaults in the air until she made a painful landing onto a wooden table. It collapsing when she collided with it.

Steve's facade dissipated, her nose burned and bled. She had no time to react before Bucky's hand was around her neck, squeezing tightly. She clawed at his face, her eyes pouring with tears. Her legs dangled and flapped around like a fish out of water as he lifted her higher into the air.

She didn't know what came over her, rather it was the grace of her maker or just the fear she held inside at this moment. Irene let go, the veins that painted her body suddenly glowed purple along with her eyes.

A new energy emerging within her, she lifted her shaking hands and grasped them onto Bucky's temples almost ritualistically. His blue eyes widened at her warm touch, before his iris's matched the purple which coursed through Irene's body.

And as if she was heavier than a ton of bricks, Bucky dropped to floor along with Irene's body. The world around them settling into black.

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Irene gasped, like a baby being born, like it was her first breath. She frantically touched her body. She was wet, and oh so cold. The kind of cold she didn't like. This chill frightened her—like winter.

Irene stood up, her bare feet sloshing around in a freezing pool of water that waded up to her knees. She could have swore she dawned shoes before this.

She shivered pulling her soaking sweater closer to herself as she marched through the water. Suddenly taking in an even stranger part of this harrowing territory. It was black, pitch black. The only source of light seemed to be the one that illuminated her frame and casted onto her like a shadow.

"Hello?" She yelled, the only response was her own.

"Hello!" She tried again, her voice rasping in horror as she trailed along.

"Somebody!" She ran, her legs burning as she pushed through the water. Her eyebrows bunched as the water picked up pace going from still water to a rapid current.

Irene yelped out, tripping and falling face front into the water. Then being pushed through the current. She paddled trying to keep up with the waves.

"Help me, Tony!" She choked on the water that only seemed to get deeper.

She struggled more against the waves, then suddenly her back slapped against a slab of ice. Tears poured down her face as the water drained away, almost as if someone had flushed it out. And now the chill had returned, making Irene tremble, but not from the cold.

She used the ice she had been pinned against to help pull herself up. Her legs wobbled as she was exhausted. She wanted this nightmare—this hell to end. But she would soon find out, it had only begun.

Irene screamed in fright. The cold object was a block of ice and within that a man stuck out, the man who had previously tried to kill her. And suddenly it dawned on her. She was physically inside the mind of the winter solider.

"No." She whispered to herself, falling to her knees.

"No.' Irene clenched her eyes closed, slapping her temple violently. "Snap out of it, Irene! Snap out of it!" She shouted.

But as she opened her eyes, to her gloom dismay she was still there. Still alone with Bucky's frozen body. She didn't know what to do, was this how she died? Or was she already dead and trapped here within his mind.

Irene fell to her knees, cradling herself in defeat. She had never physically brung herself into a mind before. She had only transferred thoughts, dreams and illusions—even nightmares. But this was a first, she felt completely powerless and out of control once more.

She allowed more tears to stream down her face as her throat closed up. And within a brisk moment, something cold, colder than anything she had already been surrounded by rolled onto her feet. It was a chunk of ice, she looked up as her eyes were blurred by the tears that welled in her eyes.

And before her was Bucky, coughing up water. Only he looked different, his body was frail and his hair was short. Irene got up onto her hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him. She didn't speak, she wouldn't be able to hear him without her hearing aids.

The closer she crawled towards him the further he crawled away. It was a game of cat and mouse until she finally opened her mouth.

"I won't hurt you." She said gently.

"Get away from me." His voice was hoarse and agitated.

Irene's eyes focused on his lips. "Please, I'm scared too. I only want to help you."

"There's nothing you can do!" He hollered, punching the remaining ice besides him.

She crawled closer to him. Kneeling before him, as he hide his face within his legs. Slowly, she steadied her hand and placed it onto him.

"I want to try something, if you'll let me." She asked, making sure her eyes were already on his lips as he looked up at her.

"What?" His eyes rimmed with tears, he was just as frightened as her.

"I'll show you." Irene grabbed his hand, her heart pained slightly as she felt Bucky flinch underneath her touch.

Irene closed her eyes, her finger tips pressing into Bucky's temple. They both groaned and trembled in pain. Irene screamed out, her body feeling as if it was being ripped in two. And just as before, she and Bucky laid weightless, their bodies colliding with the cold water. Again the world fading black around them both.

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Irene's scream broke through the ceiling of the abandoned warehouse. A set of strong arms wrapping around her as she hyperventilated, unable to stop herself from crying.

"Sam." She gasped for air, her heart rate slowing down.

"It's okay." Sam put Irene's hearing aids in, the world stoped piercing around her. "You're safe."

"Irene." Steve kneeled down in front of her, his body dirty and bruised. "What happened?" He spoke softly as Sam caressed her curly hair.

"I—I don't know how." She took deep breaths, holding her hand against her thumping heart.

She turned around, jumping in fright as Bucky sat discombobulated behind her. His head weaving back and forth, he was just as exhausted as them.

"I got in his head, Steve." She sniffled, pointing at Bucky. "I don't know how, but I was there; It was so cold, and dark."

"What do you mean, you always get in peoples heads?' Sam questioned. "And why are you so wet?" He pulled back from her, observing his now damp clothes.

"That's just it!' She popped up. "My mind wasn't in his head—that I'm use to. It was both my mind and body somehow."

"That's why I'm wet." She peeled off her sweater.

"You try that shit again,' Bucky's voice was as hoarse and agitated as Irene remembered. "It won't take the  words of hyrda for me to hurt you."

"It was an accident." Irene whispered.

"Accident or not, I don't need you in my head. I got enough of that going on." His fist pulled tightly together.

"Buck." Steve sighed, placing his hands on his hips, condemning his best friend.

"No it's fine.' Irene held her hand up. "It was a fluke reaction to you squeezing the life out of me." She pointed to the browning bruises on her neck.

Bucky's head hung low as he shook it back and forth. "Yeah, what else did I do?" He grumbled.

"That doesn't matter," Steve said as Sam wrapped his jacket around Irene. "What matters is Irene pulled you back."

Irene gave Steve a dazed look of bewilderment. "What?" She folded her arms over her small chest.

"Whatever happened between you two, it stopped him on his psychotic rampage." Sam said.

"Oh my gosh.' Irene slapped a hand to her forehead, pacing. "How could I be so stupid." She scoffed.

"What?" Steve questioned her.

"I think I spoke to his subconscious." She revealed breathlessly.

"What does that even mean?" Sam retorted.

Irene took a seat on one of the dusty crates that were scattered about the place. "When I was inside Bucky's mind, there was a version of him.' She began. "And I'm assuming since this Bucky doesn't remember our conversation too vividly, I wasn't necessarily speaking directly to him."

"So you spoke to the parts of his mind not tainted by hydra.' Steve said.

Irene nodded, sighing now. "The parts I believe even they can't get to. Parts only someone like me can."

Bucky's eyes frantically flickered back and forth between both Steve and Irene as they communicated.

"What is she saying." Bucky stood up abruptly, making Irene jump.

"She's just saying she can help you, Buck. Calm down." Steve said as he watched Bucky's chest heave and fall with anger and confusion.

"I should leave," Irene announced as she stared at Bucky who could hardly face her. "Tony's probably running frantic looking for me."

"I'll get her halfway," Sam announced, wrapping his arms around Irene.

"Why only half?" Irene paused their walk.

Steve turned to look at her, his hand still holding Bucky's shoulder. "Because like you said early, we're vigilantes now."

Irene shook her head. She knew this would happen eventually. That in the end, they would all be the architects of their own demise. It was simply fruition now.

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@buckybarnes @klausmikaelson @deanwinchester

girls when they see the most stressed out, anxious, pent up man riddled with grief: i need him

Hey, I’m not sure if it’s just on my end but on your story “what to expect” the links for chapter 2 and chapter 3 are mixed up with each other. Just thought I should let you know.

Omg thank you so much for letting me know! I’ll fix it!! ❤️

Hi! I’m working on the next part to ‘what to expect when you’re not expecting.’ It’s just challenging me a little more creatively than I thought!