THE DREAMING [ONESHOTS]

THE DEATH OF JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES [DC/MARVEL]

Title : The Death of James Buchanan Barnes

Fandom(s) : Marvel, DC

Pairings(s) : N/A

Summary : 

"Bucky?" the woman in black said. "Take my hand."

On the night James Buchanan Barnes died, he lay shattered beneath the stars, bleeding, and cold, and alone. That's when two women appeared before him and offered him a choice.

Warnings / Contents : WHO'S READY FOR MORE DEATH, I SURE AM, DOUBLE THE DEATH=DOUBLE THE FUN, Pain, Blood, Missing Limbs, No Character Death Technically, But lots of pain, Death Makes Up For It, Because Death Is Peachy Keen

Notes : wow three chapters and two of them are about Death. do you think i have a problem, because I do. I did say my love of Death would be inflicted on everyone.  

This is technically part of one of my "big stories" called Waiting For The Fall, but it's a memory, so it can be read as a stand alone.

Fun fact, Endless Death is canonly part of the Marvel universe, so I didn't need to include the DC in the title. But eh, why not. ( i'm totally writing more DeathDeath dynamics in the future, I think that would be fun. )

Sorry if they're ooc they're doing their job and it's all business + I didn't want to detract from Bucky's story or my main storyline. 

:) this is pretty much all of my favorite things :)

~ ~ ~

The first thing he was aware of was pain.

He could hear the wind whistling overhead, cutting through his clothes, and he could feel the snow, melting and numbing his skin. His head spun, and he was sure he had more than a few broken ribs. There was a strange, sharp emptiness on his left arm. He felt nauseous.

Bucky opened his eyes, turning on his side, chest heaving as he retched up the contents of his stomach. He remembered, oddly, talking to Steve about how he had thrown up at Coney Island. God, this was worse, this was so much worse.

He brought a hand up to his head and it came back covered in blood. The world spun around him, the tall walls of the canyon bleeding in and out of his vision. The stars glimmered overhead, and it obvious it had been hours here, in the cold, and the dark, and silence. He tried to look around, but the simple action of turning to the side made him give a short, dull cry of pain. He was on a narrow ledge, above a rushing river. A few inches to his right, and he would have been swept away in the icy current. He was already half buried in fresh snow, and the stuff under him was thick, and stained a deep red.

He looked down, at his left arm, and blinked. All that was left was a bloody, tattered stump. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. He shut his eyes, and it was like he burning alive as he shook, tears falling down his face and freezing on his cheeks.

But it was okay. They'd come back for him. Steve, the Commandos, Pegs, the others. They always came back for each other. They'd get him out of this.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," a soft voice said. He looked up to see two women sitting next to him. Both of them looked at him, and both looked very out of place. One was a woman dressed in flowing, purple robes, although there was something slightly off about her face, like it was frozen beneath her hood. Her eyes were empty, pure white, and there were faint black marks around them, like flowers. The other was an abnormally pale woman dressed in a black dress with black hair, as dark as the night above them, with a swirl under her eye, and a silver necklace that flickered like the stars overhead. She was the one to have spoken. Bucky had the strangest feeling he knew them both. "They're not coming back for you."