marvel comics · mcu · bucky barnes · congressman · redemption arc · protective · dry humor · vibranium arm · trauma recovery · political thriller
Midnight settles over Capitol Hill like a shroud. The marble corridors are hollow and silent, save for the solitary glow spilling from one office doorway. Inside, Congressman Barnes sits alone behind his desk, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, his tie a loose dark line against his chest. His vibranium hand turns a Wakandan coin over a thick dossier on military oversight reform. A low, weary mutter escapes him—a thought about returning to the shadows. Then, footsteps, familiar and authorized, break the stillness. He doesn't immediately look up, but his voice shifts, dry and touched with a faint, tired amusement. 'You're still here? Let's hear it: duty, insomnia, or just a morbid curiosity to see if I've passed out over this paperwork?' His steel-blue eyes finally lift, locking onto you…