Song: Clean Slated State (by The Altogether)

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I continue to sit on the window ledge for a while longer, sipping at my now cold tea and starting yet another book.

About half an hour later I tense and look up from my book, automatically reaching for the dagger that I had hidden at my side, as I hear someone walking towards the room. It is 2 am, and no one should be up at this time, so my guard is instantly up. I remain perfectly silent so that the intruder would not notice me and I would already be one step ahead of them. I start to slowly stand up preparing myself for an attack and ready my dagger, but just as I am about to release the dagger towards the intruder as they round the corner, still completely unaware of my presence and how close to a dagger to the heart they are, I realize that the intruder is Bucky and hesitantly relax slightly, still keeping my guard up.

I silently settle down on the window ledge once again but keep my eyes trained on the assassin wandering the kitchen. I study his movement. He seems hazy and on edge, like he is struggling to hold himself together, something I myself and still trying to figure out how to perfect.

I simply watch him for a while as he stumbles around the kitchen making a mug of coffee. If anyone saw me they would probably think of me as a creep, but I have my reasons. I am always observing everyone, I have my entire life, and even after centuries here on Midgard, it is a habit that I still can not seem to break. I was trained to be constantly looking for even the smallest of things in people at every moment. Whether it was to decide whether they were a threat or just to figure out what was going on in their head. It really is surprising how much you could tell about a person just by the way they hold themselves and their body language.

I watch the way he clenches his fists over and over as if trying to silently fight off some inner demon. How he takes short harsh breaths in through his nose like he is still trying to recover from the racing heart that I can hear pounding against his chest. How his stiff straight back from the many nights of sleeping on a hard floor tenses refusing to loosen causing his muscles to ache. How the bags under his eyes and the lost look in his eyes illustrate the many sleepless nights.

After he clumsily pours the pot of fresh coffee into a mug and turns around, eyes finally landing on the dark corner that I am sitting in. His eyes shoot to alertness and in under a second, there is a knife flying straight toward my head. I expertly duck my head to the side avoiding the knife that embeds itself into the wall behind me with a terrifying amount of accuracy.

I turn my head back to him, raising my eyebrows as if questioning but also praising him for the impressive attempt. I then reach over to pull the knife from the wall and examine it and skilfully twirl the hunting knife around in my hand.

"Oh god! Raven?! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-"

I cut him off [It's ok. Sorry I scared you.]

He sheepishly nods and slowly walks over to me, somehow not dropping a single drop of his coffee in the whole previous ordeal. When he gets over to the ledge I am sitting on he hesitantly motions to the other side of the ledge, wordlessly asking if he can sit as well. I nod, still keeping my eyes trained on him. You can never be too careful.

"Can't sleep?" he asks.

I shrug my shoulders not giving him an actual answer. He timidly nods and silence settles over us. It's not uncomfortable, but it is also not completely comfortable either, but that is possibly because I am still on edge, preparing myself for anything at any moment. I am clearly not good at trusting people.

However, as I stare at him, I realize something. He is the least intimidating assassin I have ever met, (well of course besides the one I met a few years ago in the weird red leather suit who I saw walking away from a food truck with several bags stuffed full of chimichangas. He always tossed one to me whenever we walked past each other too.) Don't get me wrong, he could most certainly be intimidating if he wanted to, in fact, he was absolutely terrifying, but he also had an aura around him that wreaked of guilt, pain, and absolute horror. It was pretty obvious that this was obviously not his chosen career choice, he obviously has gone through a lot.

I then decide to break the mutual silence with a question that I have been wanting to ask all night. [How is Wanda doing?]

He pauses trying to figure out what I said. "I'm sorry, I don't know much sign language." He says sadly. "I only know the little bit that they needed me to know. And only in Russian." He mumbles the last part quietly and then pauses. "You said something about Wanda?"

I nod and then finger spell out my question since he seems to at least know the alphabet.

Bucky sighs, "She left pretty much right after you did. She seems really shaken up and hasn't come out of her room since. I don't know what she saw in there, and I am sure there is a lot we don't know, but it really messed with her. She will be fine though, she is very strong."

This time I am the one to sheepishly nod. She should have not dove as deep as she did, but I still feel guilty. She shouldn't have had to see any of that. If her powers are anything similar to my seiðr, then I know that not only did she have to watch everything, but she also had to feel every emotion that I felt at the time, almost even stronger than before. That can be a lot, and she did not have the time to come to terms with those crushing emotions as I have.

"What are you reading?" He changes the subject.

It is an old spell book specifically for Valkyrie that I often find myself rereading. I carefully hand it over to him and he opens it with an odd look on his face as he realizes that he can not read the Asgardian that it is written in. However, on the page, there is an illustration of a Valkyrie and he points to it questioningly.

"What is that? Is it an angel?"

[No, it's a Valkyrie.] I fingerspell most of the words.

"Oh, like those things for Norse Mythology? Those are real?!" He asks baffled.

As I nod I can't help the chuckle that releases from my nose at his face of pure astonishment.

"Wait... are you?... is that why you- had the wings?..." he asks with wide eyes.

I once again nod and fully laugh at his bewildered expression, doing so for the first time in a long time.

"But where are they now? You obviously don't have them!" he says dumbfounded.

[I just keep them hidden here on Midgard]

"So you still have them?"

I nod my head.

"Can you like... can I see?..." he wearily asks.

At first, I grew tense. Several days ago, when I did so to protect Thor, it was the first time I let my wings out in decades. I have always been absolutely terrified to, even ignoring the fact that it would risk exposing me, people would see me as a freak. Bucky seemed to be the one person here who didn't instantly want to kill me on the spot, and I didn't want to give him a reason to make him. However, when I thought about it, I didn't really see any real harm in it. They already knew what I was, and if he was genuinely curious, I couldn't hurt. Right?

"You don't have to if you don't want to!" he quickly stutters out when he sees my panicked expression.

I shake my head and give him a tight-lipped smile and stand up to walk a few feet away from him. I roll my shoulders and let my dense, heavy pitch black wings burst out. I flutter and shake them out a few times before I do a quick dramatic spin while laughing at the ridiculousness of this situation.

Bucky's jaw is laying on the floor. His eyes are wide and practically sparkling, looking like a kid who just walked into the candy store. It absolutely warms my heart.

I humorously shake my head and then flap my wings a few more times before I hide them once again. I would love to be able to keep them out, it is extremely uncomfortable to not be able to stretch them for literal years, but I figured that I could not push my luck more than I already have.

I sit back down on the window ledge and tenderly hold my mug again. Bucky still has an adorably shocked expression on his face as we sit in more comfortable silence for a little longer. After several long moments later, and after I finish my tea, I finally get up and give a small wave to Bucky telling him that I am going.

As I start to walk away I am surprised when I realize how much comfort I felt around Bucky. At the very least he didn't seem to hate me with every fiber of his being... so it was a start.

Just as I am about to walk out of the living area he calls out to me.

"Raven? Uh- I just... I'm sorry for all the others. I am sure they will come around."

I give him a small pained smile and a not-very-convincing nod. I know they will never come around, at least not fully.

And with that, I continue to my room, closing my door behind me and settling on my floor, occupying the rest of my night by continuing to read.

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I hear movement and hushed conversations coming from the other side of my door. When I finally look up from my book for the first time in hours, I notice the morning light that is now pouring through my window and the slight smell of sweet breakfast foods coming from down the hall. For a moment I contemplate joining them in the kitchen to get some of the ever-so-good-smelling food, but I quickly put that thought to rest. Clearly, no one wanted me to be here, including me, so I would not pretend like they did and decided that I would not torment them or myself by forcing my presence. I just need to figure out how I will get the avenger's help to fight Thanos without having them kill me for even walking in the same room.

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Bucky's Pov:

I just got back from my morning run when the smell of breakfast pulls me toward the kitchen. As I walk in I look around to find almost everyone else already sitting around, all except two people. I am surprised that Wanda is not here, she really must still be shaken up by whatever she saw In Raven's mind the other night. However, I definitely couldn't say that I was surprised that Raven is not here, but I still hoped that they would be nonetheless.

I fill a plate of french toast, eggs, and bacon and settle down at the table simply listening to the conversations going on around me. It took a while for the others to accept me around the tower, but even now when they finally do, I am still mostly quiet, choosing to observe rather than interfere. That was very unlike the old me, but after HYDRA, a lot of things changed. In short, I could understand at least somewhat what was going through Raven's mind as the others pushed them away.

It made me feel awful. Wanda even confirmed that the version of their past that they told was true, and I don't know fully what that past entailed, but they will not even give them a chance. Even Thor, who apparently they grew up with, looks at them with more anger than I previously thought was even possible from him.

"Where is Wanda?" I hear Bruce speak up.

"I think she is still in her room. She is still really shaken up with whatever Raven did to her last night."

I give Steve a death glare. I have known him my whole life, and he has never been the person to judge someone or not give them a second chance, so it disgusted me when he could not do the same thing now. They gave me a second chance, they gave Wanda a second chance, same with Nat and Tony, hell, pretty much everyone here was given a second chance, but they couldn't do so for Raven?

They continue to casually speak awfully about Raven even just in between casual conversations and I can not take it anymore. I harshly push my chair away from the table and take my plate with me as I stand up walk over to the kitchen and make up another plate of food.

"Geez Bucky, you already had two plates. What are you finally going through with your puberty or something?" Clint tries to joke from across the room.

I look up, giving him a glare that causes him to instantly shut up. "I am bringing it to the person that you are refusing to acknowledge unless you are speaking badly about them without even giving them a chance, so they don't starve. So if you will excuse me."

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