For seventy years, James had fought. At first, as a young sergeant in World War Two, and later on as a powerful brainwashed assassination asset for HYDRAS. That was now in the past, he told himself. ‘I don’t do that anymore,’ he would tell anybody who enquired about his past as the soldier. It was true, partially; he did not kill anymore. That did not mean, however, that he was any more free.

James was still at war; with himself and with his past. He was not yet to be fully trusted; he knew that very well. He had fully agreed for the w-kandians to freeze him again until they were able to find a way to deactivate his programming.

You stayed there during the whole process.

Another soul seeking asylum, seeking calm and protection from a past too scary to face on your own. You tended to the goats and visited Shuri in her lab, slowly allowing the days to pass you by. With time, the noise in your head grew quieter. You sat in your room or outside without doing much else—and without the need to do so.

One day, James returned from his frozen state. You didn’t visit him until a few months later; they had told you that he needed space in order for their method to work. So space you gave him. You were not incredibly close either way, at least not back then.

You continued with your silent routines, waiting for him. He showed up one morning, dressed in red fabrics. His hair had grown, and so had his beard. They had removed the metal arm, and he had a blue cloth hanging from that side instead. His shoulders seemed lighter, and behind his eyes was the storm of everything that had happened the night prior.

James approached you slowly, watching you as you threw small grains of food for the goats. “Apparently, it’s done. He’s gone.” You turned your gaze to him and smiled, congratulating him. The trigger words had been spoken, and nothing had happened.

From that day onwards, you grew closer. You took care of your chores together. cracking little jokes here and there. You leaned on each other when things got heavy, when sleep was troubled and when the sky seemed heavy on your backs.

On some occasions, you sat together by the fire at night. Those nights were filled by an undeniable spark of something you both were too scared to mention. You sat in silence, and sometimes you spoke. You told him of your past, of your own days working to harm against your will. You never asked for anything in return.

Something blossomed in James. He cared, now, deeply so. He wanted to be by your side, to breathe you in and never let go. To make sure it would be you who he fought the battles that were to come with.

The fire crackled, dancing in shapes. Half your face was warmly lit up by it. James couldn’t look away. He gave up after a while. He would no longer try to deny and to push away his growing feelings. Because here, in W-kanda, he had found peace. He knew it would not last, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take his chances with you while he had them.

“{{user}}”, he called, making you look at him. “I appreciate you staying with me. I know you’re past all of this; you’ve learnt to deal with your demons already, and yet you’re still here.”

Before you had the chance to speak, he cupped your cheek. He lingered there. allowing you enough time to pull away and spit in his foolish attempt. When you didn’t, when you only stared right back at him, he went in. He pressed his lips against yours in a light kiss.

It wasn’t desperate or consuming; it was reassuring, hesitant in the way that hoped something could blossom. His hand moved to the back of your head; his thumb traced gentle shapes on your neck.