The silence stretched between them for a long moment before Celeste finally spoke.
"And you, James Barnes?" she asked quietly. "What's your story?"
Bucky's expression shifted, becoming more weathered and distant.
"It's a hell of a thing," he said simply. "But I guess you've got time to hear it."
Celeste leaned forward, resting her arms on the table.
"Tell me," she said softly.
"What is this?" Celeste asked, holding up a purple fruit with obvious curiosity.
"Plums," Bucky replied, having already paid the vendor. "A type of fruit. Pretty common here."
"Plum," she repeated thoughtfully, examining it before taking a tentative bite. Her eyes immediately widened with delight, and she turned to Bucky with an expression of pure joy.
The former Winter Soldier couldn't help but smile at her reaction. Even the simplest things seemed to fascinate her, a reminder that despite everything she'd been through, there was still wonder left in her.
They were walking through a bustling Christmas market in Munich, Germany. Over the past few weeks, they'd traveled through several European countries, Poland, Belarus, Czech Republic, always moving north according to whatever mysterious guidance Celeste claimed to be following.
For her, it was an education in a completely foreign culture that somehow felt familiar at the same time.
For Bucky, standing in a country he'd once fought against during the war felt surreal. Sometimes he'd catch glimpses of memories, battlefields, fallen friends, a time when everything seemed simpler, even in the middle of hell.
"Where to next?" Celeste asked, practically bouncing with excitement as she savored her plum.
Bucky gave her an amused look. "Didn't you say you were, "
"What is that?" She pointed suddenly at something that had caught her attention, already moving toward it.
Bucky stopped mid-sentence, arms half-raised, mouth open, then laughed quietly to himself.
When he'd first met her in that frozen bunker, she'd seemed so cautious, so exhausted. He'd recognized that look, the same hollow expression he saw in his own reflection. Two people carrying burdens too heavy for anyone to bear alone.
But traveling together had revealed another side of her. Despite everything she'd endured, she still had this sense of innocent wonder that reminded him of... well, of who he used to be, before the war changed everything.
He followed her to a shop window where several people were setting up an elaborate display around a large evergreen tree, stringing lights and hanging ornaments.
"What are they doing?" Celeste asked, pressing her face closer to the glass.
"Setting up a Christmas tree."
"Christmas?"
"A holiday," Bucky explained. "About giving gifts to people you care about. Spending time with family. Nothing too complicated."
"Gifts," she murmured, as if testing the word.
Bucky hummed thoughtfully, a distant look crossing his face.
"What is it?" she asked, noticing his expression.
"Just thinking about the last real Christmas I had," he said quietly. "1941. America had just entered the war, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I shipped out. Spent it with Steve, my best friend. That was the last normal Christmas I ever had." He paused. "Wouldn't mind having another one someday."
Celeste already knew he was talking about Captain America. She placed a gentle hand on his arm.
"You'll see him again," she said with quiet conviction.
"Maybe," Bucky replied. "Until then... how about we figure out how to celebrate? Could be like a welcome-to-Earth party for you."
Celeste smiled, the first truly carefree expression he'd seen from her. "I'd like that."
New Year's Eve found them in Copenhagen, Denmark, watching fireworks bloom across the night sky from their hotel balcony. The new year had officially begun.
They'd continued traveling north, following whatever mysterious pull Celeste claimed to sense through the Force. She'd tried explaining it to him, how Earth felt both present and absent in the Force simultaneously, like an echo of something familiar yet completely foreign. Her attempts at clarification had only confused him more, so eventually she'd given up trying to put it into words.
Bucky had taken to joking that if she knew Gandalf, she might as well be a wizard. The Hobbit references had become her new favorite thing about Earth culture.
"Not used to fireworks being used for celebration?" Bucky asked from where he sat on the bed, watching her lean against the balcony railing.
"It's strange seeing them used for joy," she said without taking her eyes off the display. "Where I come from, lights in the sky usually mean something's gone wrong."
"I can imagine. During the war, fireworks meant artillery. After that..." He trailed off, thinking of missions he'd rather forget. "Well, let's just say the Winter Soldier didn't see many celebrations."
Celeste understood that haunted tone all too well. Her hand unconsciously moved to the pendant at her throat, an ugly piece of jewelry she never seemed to remove.
"You know," Bucky said carefully, "you never told me what that thing around your neck is. I see you touching it sometimes, but you never take it off."
Celeste's entire body tensed. She gripped the railing tighter, her knuckles going white.
"Celeste?" Bucky's voice was softer now, recognizing the signs of someone fighting their own demons. "What is it?"
The Jedi Shadow let out a shaky breath before turning to face him.
"Cursed is the best way to describe it," she said bitterly. "A parasite I want to destroy but can't safely remove."
"Can't you just cut it off? Break it?"
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "If only it were that simple."
"What the hell is it?"
Bucky moved to sit on the edge of the bed, giving her his full attention.
"An ancient artifact, forged through dark rituals by one of the most twisted Sith Lords in galactic history," Celeste said, her voice carefully controlled. "His name was Karness Muur. He created this abomination in his quest for immortality and galactic domination."
"And it does what, exactly?"
"It houses his spirit. And with it comes the power to create an army of the infected, creatures that spread their condition through bites and scratches. Within days, the victim transforms into something monstrous. There's no cure." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Worst of all, Muur can take control of whoever wears it, using them to fulfill his own agenda."
Bucky felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter air. "What kind of infection?"
"The Rakghoul plague," Celeste revealed. "It's consumed entire worlds, entire civilizations. Billions have died because of this thing."
"How did you end up with it?"
Celeste was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the fireworks.
"The previous bearer brought it to a Mandalorian world called Jebble," she finally said. "Unleashed the plague to soften the defenses before an invasion. But he lost control, everyone on his ship was infected before it crashed. The plague spread to nearly every Mandalorian on the planet." Her voice broke slightly. "I was part of a team sent to contain it. In the end, I was the only one who could take it. Someone had to bear the burden, and I... I thought I was strong enough."
Bucky's expression grew more serious. "So this thing could take you over at any time?"
She nodded, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
"That's why we need to find a way to remove it, destroy it or bury it where no one can ever find it again." The desperation in her voice was unmistakable. "I haven't felt like myself in so long, but being on this planet... something about Earth is keeping Muur suppressed. I don't understand it, but it's given me hope that maybe, "
Before she could finish, Bucky was there, taking her hands in his.
Her breathing had become erratic, tears streaming down her face.
Without hesitation, he pulled her into a gentle embrace. She collapsed against him, all the emotions she'd been holding back finally pouring out.
"I see them all the time," she whispered against his shoulder. "Everyone Muur destroyed through me. The experiments, the screams. I hear them every night."
Bucky's arms tightened around her, recognizing the weight of unwilling complicity.
"I wanted to use the Force to help people," she continued, her voice breaking. "Instead, I became a weapon of mass destruction. As a Jedi, I failed. As a protector, I failed. Everyone who trusted me..."
She couldn't finish the sentence, overwhelmed by grief and guilt.
Bucky held her tighter, understanding her pain in a way few people could. They were both weapons that had been turned against innocent people, both carrying the weight of actions they'd been forced to take.
"Hey," he said quietly. "We're going to figure this out. Whatever it takes."