The early morning light filtered through the vast windows of Avengers Tower, casting an ethereal glow across the room. Dust motes floated lazily in the beams of sunlight, and you stirred beneath the rich duvet, its silken fabric embroidered with intricate, golden patterns reminiscent of Coruscanti architecture. The edges of the covers shimmered faintly, enchanted to keep you warm even in the chill of distant galaxies—or perhaps it was the Force's subtle whispers that heightened your awareness.

You sat up, wrapping the luxurious duvet around you, letting its weight shield you momentarily from the echoes of destruction that had haunted your dreams. Images of chaos and fire flickered in your mind like fragments of a broken holocron. The Jedi Temple engulfed in flames. Obi-Wan's anguished expression as his saber clashed with Anakin's. The horrified cries of younglings cut short. Your throne—once a symbol of peace and unity—reduced to smoldering ruins. The Force resonated with urgency, a chorus of warnings urging you to act before it was too late.

Shaking off the chill that wasn't merely physical, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The cold marble floor met your feet, grounding you as you moved towards a nearby mirror. You pulled on the robes you had salvaged from your hurried escape—formal yet practical, adorned with the understated regality of a chancellor on the run. The deep crimson fabric was trimmed with silver detailing that shimmered as you moved, like the skyline of Coruscant at sunset. Your hands deftly twisted your hair into a high bun, securing it with a metallic pin shaped like a crescent moon, its edges etched with ancient symbols of the Jedi Order.

Descending the winding staircase, you marveled momentarily at the Tower's design—an eclectic mix of modern Earth technology and alien artifacts collected by the Avengers. The faint hum of advanced machinery buzzed in the background, blending with the aroma of something savory being prepared. You entered the kitchenette, its sleek chrome surfaces gleaming under the soft morning light. Steve Rogers stood by the stove, his broad frame haloed by the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows. He was dressed simply, his presence a stark contrast to the storm swirling within you.

"Lira, hey!" Steve's voice was warm, his smile a comforting balm. He turned, holding a spatula in one hand. "What can I do for you? Do you want some food?"

You nodded, mustering a small smile. "Thank you, Steve." He handed you a plate, and you settled at the table. The dish was simple but nourishing—scrambled eggs, toast, and sliced fruit. As you took your first bite, he placed a glass of water in front of you before sitting across from you.

Steve's perceptive blue eyes studied you. "So why do you seem kind of down? Is there anything you dreamed about?"

You froze for a moment, the fork halfway to your lips. His question hung in the air like a blaster bolt, the Force gently prodding you to speak. He deserved the truth—at least part of it. You set the fork down and took a deep breath, fingers tightening slightly around the cool surface of the glass.

"I..." You paused, searching for words. "I've been having dreams. Of my home. Of...what will happen if I don't return soon." Your voice trembled, but you pushed on. "Death. Destruction. Innocents being slaughtered. My people crying out for help that might never come."

Steve leaned forward, his expression softening into one of understanding and concern. "Lira, that sounds heavy. But you don't have to carry it alone. If you need help—" He gestured around him. "You've got friends here. Me. Nat. Tony. We can figure something out."

His sincerity was disarming, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine sharing the burden. But deep down, you knew this was a path only you could walk. "Thank you, Steve," you said, your voice steadier. "But this...this is something I have to face."

He nodded, respecting your resolve even as his concern lingered. "Just know that if you need us, we're here."

You managed a grateful smile, and for the first time that morning, the shadows of your nightmares receded just a little.

-

The soft rustle of pages filled the quiet space as you immersed yourself in the book, its worn edges and elegant script offering a brief respite from the weight on your shoulders. The plush couch beneath you provided a cocoon of comfort, though it did little to ease the storm in your heart. Lost in thought, you almost didn't notice Bucky until he dropped down beside you, the cushions sinking under his weight.

Without a word, he leaned his head against your shoulder, his warmth grounding you in the moment. The quiet companionship between you was something you cherished—an understanding that didn't require words but spoke volumes nonetheless.

"I've heard Steve say you'll leave," Bucky murmured, his voice tinged with sadness, the kind that lingered in his stormy blue eyes when he spoke about the things he'd lost.

You smiled softly, setting the book down and letting your fingers thread gently through his short, dark hair. He leaned into the touch like a weary soldier seeking solace, and for a moment, you wished things could stay this simple.

"I have to, Bucky," you said, your voice low but steady. The words hung between you, heavy with unspoken truths. "Just like before, but this time...I really have to go."

His breath hitched slightly, though he tried to hide it. "Will you come back?" The vulnerability in his question cut through you, a quiet plea wrapped in hope and fear.

Your hand stilled in his hair, the weight of his words pressing against the ache in your chest. "I don't know, Buck," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think so. If the future is as bleak as I've seen..." You trailed off, the images of chaos and despair flashing behind your eyes. "Then I don't think so."

For a moment, silence settled between you, save for the faint hum of the Tower's systems and the distant murmur of traffic below. Bucky sat up slightly, his gaze searching yours. The pain in his eyes mirrored the storm inside you, but he nodded, his jaw tightening.

"I get it," he said finally, though his voice was rough, as if he were swallowing back his emotions. "You've got a duty, and I've seen what you're like when you're determined." A faint, bittersweet smile touched his lips. "But I'll miss you. Hell, I'll miss you a lot."

The honesty in his words made your chest tighten, and you reached out, gently brushing a hand along the side of his face. "I'll miss you too, Bucky," you said, and you meant it. "More than you know."

He covered your hand with his, the cool metal of his vibranium arm a stark contrast to the warmth of his human one. "Just...promise me something?"

You nodded. "Anything."

"Promise you'll fight to come back if there's a chance," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "No matter how small. Don't let whatever's out there take that away from you."

Your throat tightened, and you swallowed hard before answering. "I promise."

It wasn't much, but it was enough to pull him into a fragile smile, one you mirrored even as your heart felt heavier than ever.

-

The next morning, the weight of your decision pressed heavily on you as you slung your bag over your shoulder, its contents carefully chosen for the journey ahead. Your robes, slightly rumpled from the hasty packing, hung loosely around you, the crimson fabric catching faint rays of sunlight filtering through the Tower's windows. Today was the day—there was no turning back. You'd already spoken to Dr. Strange, who had agreed to open the portal that would carry you home, though his somber expression had revealed his own misgivings. If he hadn't, you were ready to rely on the Force, though the thought left you with a mix of apprehension and resolve.

As you descended the stairs, you froze at the sight that greeted you. The Avengers—your friends, your family in this galaxy—stood together in the spacious living area. Their faces were etched with sorrow, and the glimmer of tear-stained cheeks only made your chest tighten further. Natasha's arms were crossed, but her steely composure had cracked just enough to show her red-rimmed eyes. Clint offered you a weak smile, trying to be strong. Tony stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his jaw tight. Bruce avoided your gaze, but the sadness radiating from him was palpable. Even Thor, ever the beacon of strength, looked forlorn.

And then there was Steve, his broad shoulders slumped as he stood at the forefront of the group, his grief written plainly on his face.

"Oh, guys," you said, your voice cracking as you stepped forward. "I'm so sorry." The words felt inadequate against the depth of emotion in the room.

Steve stepped toward you, his arms opening before pulling you into a firm embrace. The warmth of his touch enveloped you, and you found yourself breathing deeply against his chest, momentarily grounding yourself in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Your bag slipped from your shoulder and landed softly on the floor, forgotten in the moment.

"It's alright, Lira," Steve murmured, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of sorrow. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his large hand cupping your cheek with a gentleness that made your heart ache. "We knew you had to do this. For your galaxy. For your people." He paused, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Just hoped we'd know if we would see you again."

You smiled through the tears threatening to spill, reaching up to take his hand in yours. Your fingers found the pulse point on his wrist, and you pressed a gentle kiss there, as if sealing a promise. "You will," you whispered. "I will walk in your dreams if the Force allows me. I will never be truly gone from your lives, you know that."

Steve's lips quirked into a sad smile, and the others stepped forward then, each offering their own bittersweet goodbyes. Natasha squeezed your shoulder, her usually sharp gaze softened with unshed tears. "Take care of yourself, alright? And if you ever find a way back, don't make me hunt you down to say hi."

Tony smirked faintly, though the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, and bring some of that Jedi magic. Might come in handy."

Thor clasped your hands, his grip firm but reverent. "Farewell, brave one. May the stars guide you home and keep you safe."

Clint and Bruce offered their own quiet words of encouragement, and before long, Strange stepped forward, his hands moving in deliberate, practiced motions. The portal shimmered to life behind him, a swirling vortex of light and energy. You turned back to the Avengers one last time, memorizing their faces, their expressions, the way the light hit their forms. These were the people who had been your family when you were lost—and who had supported you when you found your path again.

"May the Force be with you," you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes.

As you stepped through the portal, the last thing you saw was their faces, a mixture of hope and heartbreak. And as the light enveloped you, you carried their strength, their love, and their memory with you into the unknown.