In a modest hotel room dimly lit by the glow of Kathmandu's city lights, two figures lay sleeping. One of them stirred restlessly, caught in the grip of another nightmare.
James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky to those who knew him, tossed fitfully on the narrow bed, his shoulder-length brown hair damp with sweat. Beside him, a woman slept peacefully, seemingly undisturbed by his distress.
His eyes snapped open suddenly. Bucky bolted upright, gasping for air, his right hand trembling as he wiped cold sweat from his forehead. The familiar weight of dread settled in his chest like a stone.
A soft murmur came from beside him. He glanced down at his companion, relieved she hadn't been woken by his abrupt movement. A brief smile crossed his face before fading as his gaze drifted to the sliding doors leading to their small balcony.
Careful not to disturb her, Bucky slipped out of bed and padded barefoot to the glass door. He slid it open and stepped into the cool mountain air.
Below him sprawled the ancient city of Kathmandu, Nepal, a place as far from his past as he could imagine. Prayer flags fluttered in the distance, and the scent of incense drifted on the night breeze.
"That old wizard better be right about this," Bucky muttered under his breath.
As if summoned by his words, flashes of memory struck him, cold metal tables, electrical currents, voices speaking Russian commands. His body tensed involuntarily, and he gripped the railing with his flesh hand while his vibranium fingers unconsciously clenched into a fist.
The nausea hit him like a wave. He doubled over, retching, his enhanced hearing picking up the soft mechanical whirs from his prosthetic arm.
He was so focused on fighting the panic that he didn't hear the quiet footsteps behind him.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder blade.
Instinct took over. Bucky spun around in a combat-ready stance, his metal arm raised defensively. For a split second, his eyes held that wild, dangerous look, the Winter Soldier surfacing briefly before recognition dawned.
The woman facing him didn't flinch at his aggressive posture. Instead, she reached up and cupped his face with her palm.
"Easy, soldier," she whispered.
Bucky immediately relaxed, his arms dropping to his sides as he leaned into her touch with a shuddering exhale.
Celeste Morn stood before him, her pale blue eyes reflecting the city lights. Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders, freed from the practical wrappings she usually wore as a Jedi Shadow.
"Another nightmare?" she asked softly.
"Different this time," he said, his voice rough. "Different mission. Different targets."
Instead of responding with words, Celeste stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, her hands resting against his bare chest. Bucky responded immediately, pulling her close as he felt his racing heart begin to slow.
"You're safe," she murmured against his collarbone. "We're both safe. Like you said, we're in this together."
He nodded, resting his chin on top of her head.
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, then rose on her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. When she drew away, her expression was tender but determined.
"Come back to bed, Barnes," she said with a small smile. "I need my personal heater."
Bucky let out a dry chuckle. "Is that all I am to you, Celeste? Just a warm body to keep you comfortable?"
"Of course," she replied with mock seriousness, though her eyes sparkled with affection. "What else would I do with shoulders this broad? They make an excellent pillow."
"Lucky for you, you don't weigh much," Bucky murmured, touching his forehead to hers.
"Come on," Celeste whispered, her hands moving to his neck. "We've made it this far."
Bucky sighed but allowed her to lead him back inside. He settled onto his back while Celeste curled up against his side, her head finding its familiar spot on his chest.
As she got comfortable, Bucky caught the glint of golden metal at her throat, a necklace that seemed to pulse with its own inner light. His body tensed slightly.
"Relax," Celeste whispered, sensing his discomfort. "The enchantment is holding. As long as we wear these, your programming can't be triggered remotely. Once we find what we're looking for here, we can get that poison out of your head for good."
"You really think these... mystics can do what they claim?" Bucky asked quietly, running his flesh fingers through her dark hair.
During missions, she kept it bound up in practical wrappings that allowed her to move like the shadow she was named for. But here, in these quiet moments, she let it fall free, and to him, she looked almost otherworldly.
"This entire planet defies everything I thought I knew about the Force," Celeste said, tilting her head to meet his gaze. "I may not be able to sense it the way I normally do, but there's something incredible here. Something powerful enough to help both of us heal."
"You sure about that?" Bucky asked, flexing his metal fingers unconsciously.
Celeste's hands gently guided his face back to hers.
"I'm sure," she said with absolute conviction, then leaned up to kiss him again, soft and reassuring. When she settled back down against his chest, she added with deliberate lightness, "Now get some sleep, soldier boy."
Bucky smiled despite himself, tightening his arms around her. "Yes, ma'am."