‹ Prequel: From Darkness
Status: Updates Weekly
Absolute Gravity
Chapter Twenty-Three
I stared at the lights on the ceiling for a long moment, wondering why it didn’t look like the ceiling in Malibu. I could hear someone in the lab with me. The tap of electronics being used or set down, the creak of a chair, a sigh of frustration.
“You’re awake,” he said. Are you hungry?” I turned my head only enough to see him. It was Bucky—the back of him, anyway—working at Tony’s workbench.
“No,” I said. My throat was sore and parched like I’d been screaming in this body too. Tears were already leaking from my eyes from the pain.
“Let me rephrase that. Is Jo hungry? Remember that her body has to eat. Even if you don’t think you need to.”
“I’m not hungry, Bucky.” He stood up and walked over to me. He was scowling, angry at me just for existing. He didn’t realize he was looking at me. He thought he was talking to something else.
“You need to eat,” he insisted. I shook my head slowly.
“How did it happen?” He paused. He wasn’t scowling anymore, but his eyebrows were furrowed.
“How did what happen?”
“How are you here?”
I saw the moment he realized who he was talking to. He moved to my side and held my face with his hand. I reached up to squeeze it.
“Jo?” I nodded. He sighed in relief. “You have no idea how good it is to see you. The real you. You’ve been aware less and less.” I almost laughed.
“You were dead, Bucky. I think I have a pretty good idea of how good it feels.” He smiled, but it still looked pained.
“Maybe I should have worded that differently. You have no idea how unsettling it is to see you walking and talking and know it isn’t really you. You’ve been gone for a long time this time.”
“I couldn’t get out. I was trapped. I tried to—call out for you.”
“I know. You lost it—yesterday afternoon. You were screaming. We couldn’t calm you down.”
“I saw it happen again. When Clara turned to dust right in front of me. She made me watch it again.”
“I’m sorry.” I still felt tired and hazy, but I didn’t want to lose this moment of clarity.
“She showed me something else after. A memory I wasn’t awake for. She had control of my body. After it happened. I think it triggered an episode. A bad one. All I remember is Clara turning to dust, and the next thing I knew, I was in bed a few days later. But apparently she was aware during that time I was out. I don’t think she knew how to control me fully yet. She talked to Happy. She said she couldn’t feel me.”
“She says that a lot.” I looked back at him.
“She talks to me sometimes.”
“We guessed that it was a lie.” I sighed deeply. I was so tired. But I didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to lapse back into another memory. I didn’t want to see what came next.
“How?”
“It’s complicated. I don’t really know, actually. Just that one moment, I was in Wakanda, fighting. Again. And the next thing I knew, someone was telling me five years had passed and Steve needed help. I jumped right back into another battle.”
“Five?” He must have heard the panic in my voice because he stroked my face again and nodded.
“You were out for three of those years, Jo.”
“Jesus.” I pinched my eyes shut. “I’m so tired, Bucky.”
“I know, baby.”
“I just want it to stop.”
“There has to be something we’re missing.”
“I wish she would just tell me.” He shook his head slowly.
“I don’t know that it’s capable of that.”
“What do you mean?” He looked thoughtful again.
“Stark left all his notes on you and the Chaos. How it functions, and why it acts the way it does. It acts just like you. Did you know that? It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes. It walks, talks, and acts so much like you that it’s unnerving. But that’s the thing. It’s never been human before. It only knows how to be you. Only knows how to talk and think like you. Whatever it is and wherever it came from, it didn’t have the language to articulate its needs in a way we can comprehend. Does that make sense?” I nodded slowly.
“She’s only capable of explaining things that I have knowledge and experience of. Limited by my vocabulary and understanding.”
“Exactly.”
“So she can’t tell us what she is or needs because it’s not something I can conceptualize.”
“Bingo.”
“So what do we do?”
“You get clearer every time I talk to you. You know that you’re dreaming now. You know they’re just memories. I think these memories are caused by both of you. You once said that you’re in control of what you see. But Chaos can answer you. You push the memory you want to see, and it takes you there—forward, backward.”
“Right.”
“I think that’s its way of communicating. Its understanding of language and concepts only goes as far as you can speak and conceptualize. So it’s trying to answer your questions in the best way it knows how.”
“By showing me.”
“Yes.”
“She’s trying to help. In her own way.” He nodded again slowly.
“As much as I don’t want to believe it’s helping—it’s trying. In its own twisted way, yes. I think it will still always prioritize itself over you, but it realizes now that it won’t get what it wants if it doesn’t cooperate.”
“Huh.”
“What was that look for?”
“I think this started as a defense mechanism,” I explained. “I think—the blip—was the catalyst. I’d had memories before. But usually when I was asleep. Just dreams that it took me back to. To answer questions. Like the moment I found out the truth about Ivan. Or a memory when I was a kid with a kitten we’d found. But most of those memories were peaceful moments. Like when I was with you in Romania.
“And then, when the blip happened, I was so broken and in so much pain that I shut off. I wanted to go to a safe place. Her ability to recall memories took me back to a night in Romania with you. It started as a safe place until I started pushing her for answers. And then I started to relive things over and over because I was trying to puzzle something out.”
“So it’s not really showing you memories then. It’s a conversation. You have to learn how to translate it into words.”
“I don’t know how. I still get lost in the memories sometimes.”
“And it doesn’t always let us in. I couldn’t get through much for the past few days. Just glimpses.”
“I think that was my fault. I was reliving the blip. I just—lost control.”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t want to do it again, Bucky.” My eyes watered again. “I know what came next, and I don’t want to feel like that again. It feels like it’ll never end.” He gripped my face a little harder. His own eyes looked glassy now.
“I know,” he said softly. "I know what it’s like to be trapped in your own head. But even if you can’t feel me, know that I’m here. I’m alive. I haven’t left you for a moment, okay? You’re not alone, no matter what you feel in that moment.”
“Don’t leave me alone,” I begged him. The weight of pain was growing too strong. I was too tired to fight it. Too weak to stop. I could feel his hand on my cheek, under my fingers.
“I’m right here, baby,” he promised with a kiss on my head.
But even that faded away. And when I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the photo of him on the bedside table.
“You have a visitor,” Friday said.
“Just—give me a second to get the suit.”
I scrambled for the pieces sitting beside the photo. My hands were shaking, and my body felt weak and drained. Everything hurt—every movement and touch of fabric on my skin. But I needed answers, proof that this was what Bucky theorized—a conversation.
I hurried to dress and headed out into the living room on tender steps. There was still blood on the carpet. Someone had tried to clean it, but the Darkness in my blood couldn’t be washed out.
Steve was sitting on the couch on the other side of the glass, head bowed, hands at his front. He didn’t lift his head when I stepped into the room. Didn’t move until I’d crossed through the chamber that let me out. Only then did he look up and rub a hand over his bearded face.
“It’s good to see you,” he said. I paused halfway through the room. I couldn’t find the words to speak. I didn’t need to anyway. He stood up and pulled me into his arms. I didn’t know what the hug meant. Just that it was going to hurt. He was trying to brace me for bad news. He cradled my head with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. I shook my head.
“I don’t understand.”
“He wiped out—half of all life in the universe. We weren’t enough this time. I wish—I wish we’d done things differently.”
“What do you mean wiped out? What happened to them?”
“They turned to dust.” I froze. He patted my back and let me cling to him.
“No—that’s not possible.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t real. I saw—Clara—Graham disappeared and then she crumbled right in front of me. It can’t be real. That kind of thing doesn’t just happen.”
“He had a weapon more powerful than anything we’ve gone up against before. We tried to stop him—but we just weren’t enough.”
I broke down. I sobbed, and I cried until my monitors began to beep. But if Chaos wanted to kill, she had no energy left to go after Steve.
“Who else?” I finally asked when I could work through the tears enough to speak.
“Jo,” he warned me.
“Please? Just tell me. I deserve to know.” He sighed and cleared his throat.
“We’re still trying to get confirmation on some. Not everyone was witnessed, and they’re still being recorded as missing. Your Aunt Dana and Sam are on that list. But we have confirmation on your sister, your father, and Graham.” I knew about Clara and Graham. I felt those ones. I saw them. But my dad—Dana—Sam. No.
“And?”
“And Bucky, Jo.” It felt like a stab to the chest.
“Please—no. Please tell me he’s just missing like the others. Please tell me you can find him.” I felt him shake his head.
“I was with him when it happened. He’s been confirmed.”
It felt like a train crashing into me. Of course, I was devastated to lose all of them. But I’d hoped—for a moment—that Bucky would come. That I’d see one face, one person who could make the pain hurt a little less. But if Bucky was gone, too, I was alone. And I was going to fall apart.
“I’m here, Jo,” Bucky said. I felt Steve shift to hold me tighter. But it wasn’t Steve anymore. I could feel the hard press of metal around my waist and the tickle of his hair as he pressed his lips to my cheek. “I’m still with you, baby. I’m alive. And I’m not letting you go.”
“You’re awake,” he said. Are you hungry?” I turned my head only enough to see him. It was Bucky—the back of him, anyway—working at Tony’s workbench.
“No,” I said. My throat was sore and parched like I’d been screaming in this body too. Tears were already leaking from my eyes from the pain.
“Let me rephrase that. Is Jo hungry? Remember that her body has to eat. Even if you don’t think you need to.”
“I’m not hungry, Bucky.” He stood up and walked over to me. He was scowling, angry at me just for existing. He didn’t realize he was looking at me. He thought he was talking to something else.
“You need to eat,” he insisted. I shook my head slowly.
“How did it happen?” He paused. He wasn’t scowling anymore, but his eyebrows were furrowed.
“How did what happen?”
“How are you here?”
I saw the moment he realized who he was talking to. He moved to my side and held my face with his hand. I reached up to squeeze it.
“Jo?” I nodded. He sighed in relief. “You have no idea how good it is to see you. The real you. You’ve been aware less and less.” I almost laughed.
“You were dead, Bucky. I think I have a pretty good idea of how good it feels.” He smiled, but it still looked pained.
“Maybe I should have worded that differently. You have no idea how unsettling it is to see you walking and talking and know it isn’t really you. You’ve been gone for a long time this time.”
“I couldn’t get out. I was trapped. I tried to—call out for you.”
“I know. You lost it—yesterday afternoon. You were screaming. We couldn’t calm you down.”
“I saw it happen again. When Clara turned to dust right in front of me. She made me watch it again.”
“I’m sorry.” I still felt tired and hazy, but I didn’t want to lose this moment of clarity.
“She showed me something else after. A memory I wasn’t awake for. She had control of my body. After it happened. I think it triggered an episode. A bad one. All I remember is Clara turning to dust, and the next thing I knew, I was in bed a few days later. But apparently she was aware during that time I was out. I don’t think she knew how to control me fully yet. She talked to Happy. She said she couldn’t feel me.”
“She says that a lot.” I looked back at him.
“She talks to me sometimes.”
“We guessed that it was a lie.” I sighed deeply. I was so tired. But I didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to lapse back into another memory. I didn’t want to see what came next.
“How?”
“It’s complicated. I don’t really know, actually. Just that one moment, I was in Wakanda, fighting. Again. And the next thing I knew, someone was telling me five years had passed and Steve needed help. I jumped right back into another battle.”
“Five?” He must have heard the panic in my voice because he stroked my face again and nodded.
“You were out for three of those years, Jo.”
“Jesus.” I pinched my eyes shut. “I’m so tired, Bucky.”
“I know, baby.”
“I just want it to stop.”
“There has to be something we’re missing.”
“I wish she would just tell me.” He shook his head slowly.
“I don’t know that it’s capable of that.”
“What do you mean?” He looked thoughtful again.
“Stark left all his notes on you and the Chaos. How it functions, and why it acts the way it does. It acts just like you. Did you know that? It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes. It walks, talks, and acts so much like you that it’s unnerving. But that’s the thing. It’s never been human before. It only knows how to be you. Only knows how to talk and think like you. Whatever it is and wherever it came from, it didn’t have the language to articulate its needs in a way we can comprehend. Does that make sense?” I nodded slowly.
“She’s only capable of explaining things that I have knowledge and experience of. Limited by my vocabulary and understanding.”
“Exactly.”
“So she can’t tell us what she is or needs because it’s not something I can conceptualize.”
“Bingo.”
“So what do we do?”
“You get clearer every time I talk to you. You know that you’re dreaming now. You know they’re just memories. I think these memories are caused by both of you. You once said that you’re in control of what you see. But Chaos can answer you. You push the memory you want to see, and it takes you there—forward, backward.”
“Right.”
“I think that’s its way of communicating. Its understanding of language and concepts only goes as far as you can speak and conceptualize. So it’s trying to answer your questions in the best way it knows how.”
“By showing me.”
“Yes.”
“She’s trying to help. In her own way.” He nodded again slowly.
“As much as I don’t want to believe it’s helping—it’s trying. In its own twisted way, yes. I think it will still always prioritize itself over you, but it realizes now that it won’t get what it wants if it doesn’t cooperate.”
“Huh.”
“What was that look for?”
“I think this started as a defense mechanism,” I explained. “I think—the blip—was the catalyst. I’d had memories before. But usually when I was asleep. Just dreams that it took me back to. To answer questions. Like the moment I found out the truth about Ivan. Or a memory when I was a kid with a kitten we’d found. But most of those memories were peaceful moments. Like when I was with you in Romania.
“And then, when the blip happened, I was so broken and in so much pain that I shut off. I wanted to go to a safe place. Her ability to recall memories took me back to a night in Romania with you. It started as a safe place until I started pushing her for answers. And then I started to relive things over and over because I was trying to puzzle something out.”
“So it’s not really showing you memories then. It’s a conversation. You have to learn how to translate it into words.”
“I don’t know how. I still get lost in the memories sometimes.”
“And it doesn’t always let us in. I couldn’t get through much for the past few days. Just glimpses.”
“I think that was my fault. I was reliving the blip. I just—lost control.”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t want to do it again, Bucky.” My eyes watered again. “I know what came next, and I don’t want to feel like that again. It feels like it’ll never end.” He gripped my face a little harder. His own eyes looked glassy now.
“I know,” he said softly. "I know what it’s like to be trapped in your own head. But even if you can’t feel me, know that I’m here. I’m alive. I haven’t left you for a moment, okay? You’re not alone, no matter what you feel in that moment.”
“Don’t leave me alone,” I begged him. The weight of pain was growing too strong. I was too tired to fight it. Too weak to stop. I could feel his hand on my cheek, under my fingers.
“I’m right here, baby,” he promised with a kiss on my head.
But even that faded away. And when I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the photo of him on the bedside table.
“You have a visitor,” Friday said.
“Just—give me a second to get the suit.”
I scrambled for the pieces sitting beside the photo. My hands were shaking, and my body felt weak and drained. Everything hurt—every movement and touch of fabric on my skin. But I needed answers, proof that this was what Bucky theorized—a conversation.
I hurried to dress and headed out into the living room on tender steps. There was still blood on the carpet. Someone had tried to clean it, but the Darkness in my blood couldn’t be washed out.
Steve was sitting on the couch on the other side of the glass, head bowed, hands at his front. He didn’t lift his head when I stepped into the room. Didn’t move until I’d crossed through the chamber that let me out. Only then did he look up and rub a hand over his bearded face.
“It’s good to see you,” he said. I paused halfway through the room. I couldn’t find the words to speak. I didn’t need to anyway. He stood up and pulled me into his arms. I didn’t know what the hug meant. Just that it was going to hurt. He was trying to brace me for bad news. He cradled my head with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. I shook my head.
“I don’t understand.”
“He wiped out—half of all life in the universe. We weren’t enough this time. I wish—I wish we’d done things differently.”
“What do you mean wiped out? What happened to them?”
“They turned to dust.” I froze. He patted my back and let me cling to him.
“No—that’s not possible.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t real. I saw—Clara—Graham disappeared and then she crumbled right in front of me. It can’t be real. That kind of thing doesn’t just happen.”
“He had a weapon more powerful than anything we’ve gone up against before. We tried to stop him—but we just weren’t enough.”
I broke down. I sobbed, and I cried until my monitors began to beep. But if Chaos wanted to kill, she had no energy left to go after Steve.
“Who else?” I finally asked when I could work through the tears enough to speak.
“Jo,” he warned me.
“Please? Just tell me. I deserve to know.” He sighed and cleared his throat.
“We’re still trying to get confirmation on some. Not everyone was witnessed, and they’re still being recorded as missing. Your Aunt Dana and Sam are on that list. But we have confirmation on your sister, your father, and Graham.” I knew about Clara and Graham. I felt those ones. I saw them. But my dad—Dana—Sam. No.
“And?”
“And Bucky, Jo.” It felt like a stab to the chest.
“Please—no. Please tell me he’s just missing like the others. Please tell me you can find him.” I felt him shake his head.
“I was with him when it happened. He’s been confirmed.”
It felt like a train crashing into me. Of course, I was devastated to lose all of them. But I’d hoped—for a moment—that Bucky would come. That I’d see one face, one person who could make the pain hurt a little less. But if Bucky was gone, too, I was alone. And I was going to fall apart.
“I’m here, Jo,” Bucky said. I felt Steve shift to hold me tighter. But it wasn’t Steve anymore. I could feel the hard press of metal around my waist and the tickle of his hair as he pressed his lips to my cheek. “I’m still with you, baby. I’m alive. And I’m not letting you go.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Hello to whoever is still around!I wanted to pop in and let people know what's going on. I know Mibba is pretty dead these days, but I didn't want to start deleting things without giving people a heads-up. Just in case anyone is still reading here and waiting for an update.
I’m alive, obviously, and I haven’t abandoned this story. But if you guys are probably going to be mad at me. So I apologize in advance.
Basically, this story is going to go away (probably) by the end of the year. I’m going to hurry up and slap up the rest of it just to finish it up and give you guys a chance to read it and have that closure. Then I’ll leave it up for a few more months and then scrub it from the internet.
I have a reason for doing this, though! So please give me a chance to explain.
I also apologize in advance if this gets wordy (I try really hard not to be rambly). The long and short of it is that I’m going to be working toward publishing some of my works. I actually got my degree in English/Literature, with a minor in Journalism, and interned at an independent publishing company’s YA imprint for a bit before I got my current job (Adult Programming Librarian, yay!). So it’s safe to say that publishing has always been my long-term goal.
Trad publishing is hard, though, as you probably very well know. I’ve always played around with the idea of self-publishing but never gave it any serious thought until this year. This year, I decided to make it my goal to publish at least one thing by 2025. So, I made a list of all my stories, completed or otherwise, and organized them based on which ones I thought were the closest to being ready. My writing style tends to be “ramble and word dump,” so I know they’re going to take a lot of work and rewrites to become actual books.
Around the time I started writing Monster, I decided to pull away from fan fiction. I completely deleted all of my stories and only put up the originals or rewrites of former fan fiction (as originals). Monster was an idea that came out of nowhere, and I decided to treat it (and the few fanfics that came after) more like writing exercises. They were never meant to be taken seriously and were never on my radar of things to rewrite into originals.
But again, I’ve started to pull even more away from fanfics. I love them. I love the experience they gave me and the community I found here and on other sites, but I’ve just grown out of a lot of the fandoms I was part of for so long. Bucky will obviously hold a special place in my heart, and I’m still ride or die for him. But I wanted to start taking my writing more seriously and focus on writing actual books rather than just word-dumping stories onto the internet.
Monster was always going to exist outside of that. I didn’t really consider turning it into an original because I felt like Marvel was just too saturated into the story. So, my goal was to finish it up, put it on the internet, and move on. It’s completely written. It’s finished. I’ve just felt a complete lack of motivation. I’m not happy with the ending, and I just don’t really have the drive to put it up. Even though it’s right there and I tell myself all the time to just get it over with.
These past few months, I started playing around with some of my stories and trying to figure out which ones would be easiest to prepare for publishing. Again, Monster wasn’t on my radar for that. And then I got an idea for it—out of nowhere—while I was just doodling Jo (because I’ve also had art block). And I CANNOT LET THIS IDEA GO.
Like honestly, guys. I love it so much. It’s obviously changing a lot of the story, but it’s been so fun to play around with and explore. And I cannot even tell you how freeing it’s been to take Marvel out of it. It’s given me the chance to explore these characters more, introduce new characters, and basically just do whatever the hell I want just because I can. I’ve been having so much fun that the first story is already written.
And as much as I love/hate to say it, it’s probably going to be the first book that I work toward publishing. It’s going to require a lot of work since I want to make sure I have all the stories at least mapped out before I get it ready. And I’m also planning on including illustrations. So, it might push back my self-inflicted deadline a bit. But this is the first time in probably 2-3 years that I just cannot stop writing.
So that’s why the story is going to go soon. I’m going to bite the bullet and just slap up the rest of it like I said I would so you guys can get that closure and move on. But if any of you want to come along for the ride with me, I’d really appreciate some feedback. I’m thinking of sharing (kind of) ARC copies of the current draft to get feedback on the things I still need to flesh out. This story is very focused on interpersonal relationships and Jo never really got involved in the greater storyline. So that’s one thing I need to work hard on (I’m not good at that). I’m thinking I might put the first draft up for now. Maybe on Wattpad since I don't think there's going to be a lot of feedback here. And let people comment and help. Or I might just share the Google document for interested parties. But no pressure. You guys came for Bucky, and it’s totally understandable if you don’t want to stick around for a character who is only based on him (even though I’ve fallen in love with him, too).
That being said, Monster and its sequels will probably be gone by the end of the year. And my other stories might also start coming down as I work toward rewriting them for publication. I’ll post some more info as I finish up the story in my author's notes. Please understand that I’m not entirely happy with how it ends. But I hope that you guys enjoy it anyway. And I hope to see you on this journey toward publishing. Thank you all so much for all your kind words and support over the years. I wouldn’t have been able to make this story what it is (and is going to become) if you guys hadn’t shown it so much love.
-Indy