Two years later...

          In the late afternoon's soft, golden light, I find solace outside my cottage, engaged in a ritual that is a way to soothe my pent-up anger and frustrations. The rhythmic thud of every knife impaling into the wooden target offers me an outlet. A way to gain control of my anger, and to take back my sense of control the world has taken from me. My knives gleam in the sunlight, my mind is consumed with the truths I've uncovered about myself. I thought I had known everything that happened to me, and I've been proven to be wrong. But the worst part is that I had to find out on my own.

But I am blinded by my own anger. Nothing seems to calm me as I continue to throw each knife at its target. Nothing can calm the storm that rages on within me–the secrets that have been purposefully kept from me, have been spilled out before me.

The Hydra file–my file–holds a sinister trove of information; information that was purposefully kept hidden from me for years. It holds photographs of the girl I was before I was captured–she was innocent and carefree, living a life without fear. And the monster who I became. Hydra casted their long, malevolent reach over my life. The subsequent images of myself after, casts a dark and destructive shadow, painting a much darker story of suffering, destruction, and death.

My heart pounds as I recall every last detail on the file. Most specifically each and every procedure I was forced to endure. Procedures that created me into an assassin, marked my body with scars both visible and hidden, and connected me with the person I love more than anything–Bucky Barnes. A chilling revelation laid within those pages; he had given me half his heart, quite literally, to save my life from my failing heart. This knowledge has fueled my anger–twisting my frustrations and gratitude into a knot that I cannot unravel on my own.

And then, there was the list–the list of people I was sent to kill. The compilation of people that Hydra deemed as a threat. Every name, face, and the memory of each kill, is etched into my memory. And I relive them with every nightmare I have. These revelations are too much to bear for one being, and yet, I've kept them to myself, for literal months. Because I've been holding everything in. Until I snap.

Each knife I hurl carries with a surge of emotions. It strikes the center with an unerring accuracy, briefly subsiding the fury that consumes me. That's when I sense Bucky standing behind me. If I wasn't filled with anger, I'd be excited to see him, but resentment grows in my heart. I don't acknowledge him, the one thing I can focus on is my target. The knife leaves my hand with ease, whizzing through the air like it's second nature. It impales itself into the top left corner, and I'm silently cursing at myself for becoming distracted.

He strides into my practice area, unaware of the circumstances that he's walking into. Four months without him has been lonesome, but it has opened my eyes to one thing; he never dared to tell me the truth. A truth that wasn't his to keep. In his eyes, he's walking into a safe haven, a place back to me. But to me, he's walking into a war that he might not win. A war that has raged within me for months on end–but now, I will make my truth be told.

In a fit of frustration, I let my knife fly. It whizzes past his head, barely missing him as it impales itself into the exterior of the cottage. Its wood splintering on impact, releasing some of the pent-up anger that has been building within me. His eyes widened in confusion, shocked at my reaction to his return. This action is a testament to the fury that simmers beneath the surface.

He breaks the silence, slowly inching towards me, but I take a step back. "What's wrong, Avalon?" He says, his face etched in confusion and surprise. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

My chest heaves, my right hand twitching on my last knife in my sheath. There is no easy way around this circumstance. I desperately want to run into the arms of the man I love. But the other part of me wants to scream at him from the top of my lungs. I close my eyes, steadying my breathing as I collect my thoughts. They open, a fire meets a storm. He's concerned, and I'm about to unleash my wrath.

"Oh, I'm just peachy, Barnes," I say, sarcasm dripping from my words, refusing to look at him. Avalon, you need to calm down. "Just found out I'm still an active operative for Hydra. You know, the organization that kidnapped me, tortured me, and turned me into a weapon. And guess what else? I just found out that you gave me half of your heart. That I'm literally walking around with a piece of you inside me."

As I reveal the truth about my discovery, a heavy silence pierced through the air like a dense, suffocating shroud. This isn't an easy revelation to digest, and the weight of the truth presses down on me. Bucky's face registers a mix of shock, quickly followed by his own guilt. It's clear he was never expecting this outburst of mine, but there was no way in hell I would let this fucking slide. Avalon, let me handle this.

He begins to speak, His gaze meets mine, shifting his weight from foot to foot before responding. "I didn't think you'd want to know, I wouldn't wan–"

As the pressure of the situation mounts, I can't bear to deal with these emotions. Do it, Red. The pain, the betrayal, and my own anger overpower me as I stand before Bucky. So, without hesitation, I let Red take the reins. When the shift occurs, it's like I'm stepping into a room, and coming out in a different atmosphere. Becoming Red is like wearing a suit of armor, shielding me from the pain and vulnerability that comes from these intense situations. With her taking my place, it's her turn to take control of the conversation. 

Give him hell, Red.

"I didn't want to know, I NEEDED to know," she cuts him off, not wanting to hear the depths of his intricate story. Of all the times, the opportunities he's had, he never once made it a point to tell Avalon point blank. Although I could've gone my entire life not knowing, it's the fact that he purposefully kept her from the truth that doesn't sit right with me. "I deserved to know what they did to me, what you did to save me, and–"

I watch, almost as an innocent bystander in my own mind, as Red continues on in her confrontation. A growing sense of detachment eases the emotions that I just carried moments before. But something's different about her. It's been happening for a while now, but it's like we're merging into one being. The part of me that used to show no emotion is threatening to blow her cover.

As she speaks, I can feel the fusion of our two identities merging, blurring the line between us. "What we–" she grimaces, I can feel the tears stinging in our eyes. Why is this happening to us? "What I became because of it!"

The usage of 'we' makes him look at me quizzically. He narrows his eyes, the subtle shift in his expression brings us to realize that he's catching on to the unusual change in my demeanor. We share an unspoken connection, and he knows the both of us better than anyone else. An understanding that something isn't quite right. He attempts to take a step closer to assess the situation, but I step back, wanting nothing more than to keep the space between us.

His scrutiny lingers, and she feels a mixture of relief and anxiety. I would be in shambles, but she's trying her damn best to keep us composed until we're out of sight. On one hand, I don't want him to question anything; to keep things as they are until I'm ready to admit what's really happening. On the other hand, I am longing to tell him everything he's missed while he's been away, and be in his arms again. But for now, I keep our guard up, not ready to reveal the extent of this intricate dynamic.

"I didn't give you half of my heart to make you suffer. It was a desperate act to save your life, to keep you with me," he confesses, his voice heavy with sincerity. His words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. "I cared for you before I knew you, and now, I can't bear to lose you."

His admittance reverberates the space between us, a testament to the depths of his feelings. I stand tall, feeling the emotions that were brought out of me, wiping a singular tear from my eyes. I care for the man standing before me; I understand the strength it took to make sure we would survive six decades ago. But I don't understand why I was the last to know. Until I understand this, I remain silent, letting the weight of his words settle on my heart. Without a response, I turn and walk away, disappearing into the cottage.

***

          I regain consciousness as I'm sprawled across the bathroom floor. The cold, tiled floor seeping into my skin and sending shivers down my spine. Confusion claws at the edges of my mind as I blink away my disorientation. My eyes adjust to my surroundings, everything slowly going into focus. But what I don't understand is how I got here. It's like my memory has been purged of the events following the switch. The control I used to have, my memory that was always in tact when it came to the switch, has failed me.

With the strength I can muster, I try to push myself upright, but the world starts to spin. I manage to sit back against the wall, trying to readjust myself. But that's when the panic sets in–I can't remember what happened during my lost time. It's a gap in my memory, a gap I cannot bridge. I've always been able to remember those moments, seeing things from within my mind, but this time was different, and I have no explanation for it. For a moment, I try to understand it. To find any signs in the bathroom around me, but it's eerily silent, offering me no solace in my predicament.

Summoning every ounce of my strength, I manage to pull myself up using the bathroom counter. My legs wobble beneath me, and I lean on the counter for support, desperate to regain my composure and get to the bottom of this. As I stand, my reflection staring back at me, my eyes show lingering traces of tears. She's starting to feel. She's losing her control.

"Red, what's going on?" I say to the reflection of myself in the mirror. I feel exhausted. My mind is hazy, and the only one who would know these answers would be her. "I..I don't remember everything clearly."

I feel her stirring within me. I look into the mirror and find myself looking into her eyes. "I think something is happening. I think we're...merging, becoming one person." She says, thoughtfully, but almost uncertain. This is the first time she hasn't been true to her own nature, and that's troubling to me.

Her words hang in the air, and I'm left stunned in silence. The implications of what Red just said are profound and leave me with more questions than answers. I knew at some point in time, we'd just coexist–we'd become one unique person with an intense set of abilities. But I thought it'd take time, practice, and a lot of patience. The idea of Red and I becoming one person has always intrigued me, but it also terrifies me.

Knowing I have to face my next challenge, I slowly exit the bathroom, my mind still grappling with this information I've discovered. The uncertainty gnaws at me, but it's overshadowed by the need to find Bucky. He knows me better than anyone, and I need him more than ever. If one person can understand this, it's him.

As I stepped into the living room, we made eye contact immediately. Bucky's gaze is penetrating, like he's able to see right through me. I know he senses something has transpired, something significant, something out of the ordinary. He's concerned, I know that much, but the gravity of the situation is beyond me.

Before he can utter a word, I move towards him, closing the distance with quick footsteps. Regardless of what happened outside, I have been without him longer than I wanted to be, and all I want is to feel his touch again. My arms wrap around his torso, and I press my face against his chest. It's instinctual, almost like a desperate need for his comfort. He reciprocates the hugs, his arms enveloping me, grounding me in my moment of uncertainty. But after a few moments, he gently pulls back, just enough to look down at me. His eyes, a storm of curiosity and concern, meet mine.

"Lonnie," he starts, his voice tender but concerned. Like he doesn't know who he's talking to. "What happened out there? I know something's not...right."

I look away from him, trying to find the right words to properly explain it. "It's Red. Something's happening," my voice quivers, like I'm ashamed of what's become of my alter ego. The once feared and dominating persona of mine, is becoming human. I sense him becoming confused, but I quickly find the words to say. "We are changing, evolving. It's like we're becoming one person. I can feel her emotions, what she's thinking, and she's feeling mine. Everything used to be separate, and now, it's not. "

My gaze meets his again as he absorbs this information, his brow furrowing as he processes what I revealed. Without a word, he guides me to sit down on the couch, his touch reassuring and warm. Momentarily, we sit in silence, my truth echoing through the air. I can see the wheels moving in Bucky's mind, and he's trying to make sense of what I'm saying.

"Oh, Princess, I know you may feel like you're losing her," he says, breaking the silence, his blue eyes locked onto mine. His voice is gentle, soothing the uneasiness of my nerves, "but try looking at it this way: she's becoming a part of you. Red is a fighter, just as you are, and she's always been there to help when things get tough."

His words resonate with me, and I nod, agreeing with them. "You're right," I admit, knowing that this is the first part of it that makes the most logical sense. "Maybe it's time to stop seeing her as a separate entity and start thinking of us as a team."

He smiles warmly at me, his thumb gently rubbing circles on the back of my hand. I rest my head on his shoulder, relaxing my shoulders that I didn't know were tense. His head rests on mine, grounding me in our moment.

Despite the comfort of our togetherness, I can't quite shake the guilt of my outburst earlier. I sigh, shifting slightly before speaking softly, "My love," he kisses the top of my head before I continue. "I'm sorry for how I reacted to the file. I shouldn't have let my anger get the best of me."

"No, don't apologize. You had every right to be upset with me," Bucky states, his tone eases my guilt with his understanding.  "I should've been more open with you about it. But I didn't want to tell you something you weren't ready to hear."

As I listen to him, I realize the significance of his ambiguous lines he used to drop, the ones that would keep me up at night. I never understood how I knew when he was around–I genuinely thought this was a purposeful implication of my existence–but now, I have solved the mystery.  "I realized now that you've been dropping hints all along, to prepare me for the truth. Those cryptic lines about my heart and someone looking out for me–they all make sense now."

His expression softens, offering me an affectionate smile as he recalls our past. "I wanted to protect you, Princess," his endearment sends a warm shiver that courses through my body. "I made a promise long ago. And although things are different now, I still stand by that promise."

His words and the depths of his true feelings are laid out in the open. It creates a cocoon of awareness and forgiveness around us. Our bond, forged in the depths of misery, continues to grow deeper than the chains that enveloped us for a lifetime. We have a lifetime to figure ourselves out, but luckily, this time, we have a choice on how to move forward.

As Bucky and I bask in the warmth of our reunion, a soft knocks pulls us from the moment. We exchange a puzzled glance, reluctant to be drawn away from each other. With a gentle sigh, he detaches himself from me and strides towards the door. Both of our curiosity peaks as we wonder who seeks our presence. With a gentle creek, the door swings open, revealing T'Challa.

I rise swiftly, a growing intuition hinting that this encounter may foreshadow something far greater than our current comprehension.

Whose war are we fighting now?

In the soft light of the living room, T'Challa and his men stand, holding boxes in their arms. Their contents concealed but foreboding. The mystery of them peaks my curiosity and hints at the gravity of this encounter. T'Challa's eyes, usually filled with a warmth and regal composure, hold a weight to them that tell me this is no ordinary visit. The air seems to hold its breath, waiting for the unspoken words to reveal themselves, and the apprehension in the room is palpable.

"I come bearing news of an imminent threat. A war is brewing on the horizon, one that threatens not only Wakanda, but the world at large," T'Challa breaks the silence with a calculated tone that carries the weight of responsibility. "You are needed."

A chill creeps up my spine, and I exchange a fleeting glance with Bucky, whose jaw is set with resolute determination. The weight of T'Challa's words settles over us. It was clear that this wasn't a customary mission; it was a call to arms, a summons to face an adversary of unimaginable power.

a/n: bavalon are going to fight side by side again!!!! my favorite duo :)) i hope you enjoy this!! I had fun writing this one! -k