The Archangel (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter Forty Two

The Wakandans took care of everything. Angel was put to rest in their tradition, as a warrior of Wakanda. But really, it was more a celebration of life than a funeral, there was dancing and lively music, just how she had lived. Bucky was beyond grateful to them but everywhere he turned was just another reminder of what he'd had . . . and lost.

After the festivities were over, he packed what little he needed and left, disappearing into the night without a trace. He never said goodbye. Not to Steve, not to his Wakandan friends, nor any of the Avengers. He became a ghost, disappearing off to no one knew where. Steve kept his promise though, no matter how much he wanted to break it, he didn't go looking for Bucky and wouldn't let anybody else either.

The following afternoon, Bucky stepped out of the plane that had jumped him over the pond, tossing the pilot a wad of cash, "thanks for the lift." It was humid and the heat pressed down on him through his leather jacket. In Wakanda, his arm was different but accepted. Back in the world, it stood out as an identifying feature for him. The jacket and a single black leather glove covered it.

It took him less than a half hour to find a bar on the beach. Stepping inside, he sat at the bar counter and signaled the bartender. "Whiskey, two fingers, no ice, and something fruity with an umbrella."

The bartender chuckled, "you waiting for someone?"

Bucky shook his head slowly, "just fulfilling a promise."

"Mind if I ask what kind of promise?" The bartender asked as he poured whiskey into a glass and slid it across the counter to him.

"My wife's dying request."

"I'm sorry, man, you wanna talk about it?" he offered as he set down the colorful drink with a tiny blue umbrella in it.

Bucky shook his head, "I'd like to be left alone." The bartender acquiesced and moved on to cleaning glasses at the other end of the bar.

Bucky sighed and peeled off his glove, clinking his whiskey glass against Angel's drink. He downed the whiskey and plucking the umbrella from the drink with his metal arm. He handled the little umbrella with a delicate grip, knowing that even the smallest increase in pressure could snap the little stem. "I did it, Angel," he murmured, "I hope you like it."

When the bartender turned back to his customer at the bar, he was surprised to find the man gone, whiskey glass empty, cocktail glass full, but umbrella no where in sight, payment left underneath the full glass.

Bucky returned to the same bar for a few weeks and ordered whiskey, each time he wound find himself spinning that little blue umbrella between his fingers, thinking of Angel and what might have been. Every day, he would disappear and leave payment behind, but would always return the next day. He was nursing his drink one day when the television caught his attention.

He called over one of the bartenders and asked her to turn the volume up. Steve was stood at a podium, all of the other Avengers present, including T'Challa and Thor, everyone was there except Angel and Bucky. "We've called this press conference to make an announcement, and I do so with a heavy heart. Approximately twenty four days ago, the partnered pair in our African outpost, the Archangel and White Wolf, were sent on mission in South Sudan. While saving the lives of millions, the Archangel was fatally injured and her partner is now comatose, we don't know when or if he'll ever wake, but he will always have a place among us. It was a dark day for the Avengers and we are still grieving their loss, as teammates and friends. We will not be accepting any questions at this time."

It was too much for him, he finished off his drink, left payment, and disappeared like the ghost he was, never to visit that bar again. It was good to know that he always had a place among the Avengers, but it would never be the same without her.