The permafrost of our souls

Bent over, Kara tried to make out the contours of her brother, but the dark figure seemed to absorb all light, denying even a chance to recognize familiar features. Gripping the cold metal, she pulled it from her pocket, weighing her actions. “You ready?” James, standing nearby, kept his distance to avoid intruding on their moment. He watched the clearly hesitant girl, thinking he might have to intervene after all. Without answering, Kara carefully slid her hand into the green mass, pushing through the gelatinous substance toward the head of what was once her brother. She stopped when the pistol barrel pressed against his temple. Hesitating, as if wanting to say something, Kara pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Andrew’s head and lodged in the mass. The next second, Bucky grabbed the girl by the waist and dragged her deeper into the chamber as the tendrils, sensing the loss of their core, began to frenzy. Long, massive appendages lashed through the cavern, battering the ceiling and walls as if intent on burying themselves forever in this man-made crypt. “The rocks!” Kara pointed to a pile of stones that had fallen in a corner. James, grabbing her hand, pulled her forward, dodging the tendrils trying to crush them. He climbed the rocks first, trying to smash the cracked ceiling stone with his bionic hand. Kara, climbing after him, stopped him with a light touch, then, gathering her thoughts in a surge of adrenaline-fueled fear, shattered the ceiling into dust with a green flash, opening a path upward. “So that’s why no one followed us,” she said, hands on her knees, looking down at the black patches of collapsed snow on the white surface. “They’re all in the tunnels, just like I said.” “Did your brother do this?” Bucky looked back, but the hole they had escaped from was blocked by rocks and earth. He had walled himself in so no one else would stumble upon what Kara had been fighting. Her fears were now buried forever underground. “He was protecting me,” she said softly, then wearily slumped her shoulders, looking at a nearby snowdrift. “Should we make camp?” “In your place, I’d want to get on a plane as soon as possible,” he chuckled, adjusting his backpack. “But you’re not in my place, are you?” Kara shrugged, heading toward the chosen spot. “Let’s honor his memory with some hot tea.” They silently built a fire to heat the water they had conserved during their journey, brewed tea, and poured it into collapsible cups. Kara sat on the edge, legs dangling into the void, watching the steam rise from her mug, thinking that for the first time in a long while, she felt free. From HYDRA, from guilt, from obligations, from everything. She flinched slightly when Bucky sat down beside her, warming his hands on his cup, but didn’t move away, afraid to ruin the moment. They sat side by side, jackets touching as if nothing had happened. Kara took a sip of tea, then buried her mug deeper in the snow and rested her head on James’s shoulder, allowing herself a moment of rest. Bucky tilted his head, as if closing a circuit between them, a circle of promises they had made to each other without uttering a word. Promises to always be there, to always stand by each other, no matter what. Each of them believed it would truly be so.