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Her kind was inherently wary, especially with conscious human males up and walking about. Talia remained where she was, perfectly hidden behind the thick leaves, and watched curiously. The soldier's voice carried perfectly across the water, more robust than she'd imagined for someone who'd spent the last night sleeping below the waves.

She understood him well enough; her sisters had learned languages from the men they "kept", and her species was excellent at mimicry. While she herself had seldom use for spoken words, she often practiced amongst her sea-faring companions, just to stay in practice.

But she didn't dare call out, even when the dark haired soldier waded into the surf, still looking for her.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Bucky says, his voice a little more stressed. He's been in a plane crash and washed up on a beach. Does he have a head injury? Is he gonna die out here? God, he can't die out here on an abandoned island. He calls out for her again in order to see if she's really there.

"Please? I just wanna know if my brain is making you up or not. I don't know if I hit my head or if I'm sick. Are you there?"

He sits down after a moment and hugs his knees to his chest, watching the waves hit the shore for a moment. He knows he's got to find real shelter and food at some point but right now, he needs to get his head straight.

Hearing the note of anxious fear in his voice abruptly changed her mind. Dipping down below the water again, Talia swam slowly around the rock outcropping, almost to the shallows, but stopped before she met the breakwater. Red hair streaming wetly over her face and bare shoulders, she breached the surface, just enough to see him sitting there, looking so lost and forlorn.

Licking her lips clean of the salty water, she hesitated a few moments before deciding to answer.

"...I'm here."

She was close enough to see, but far enough away not to reach.

When he sees the girl's head pop back up, Bucky exhales a sigh of relief. So he's not crazy. He might still have a head injury or something other than the bruises and scrapes he's already noticed but at least he's not made up a whole person.

"Hey. You can come closer if you want to - I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm sorry I was yelling. I thought I was losing my mind, all right? I thought I hallucinated you."

He wants to get closer but he doesn't want to scare her off.

Still wary, she shook her head. "Not enough water," was her immediate response, and she drifted backwards just a bit, gently riding the rolling waves. "Too shallow."

She wasn't worried that he'd hurt her; she could get away if she really had to. Her kind knew how to fight, and they possessed enough weapons to defend themselves if need be. And humans, her sisters had always told her, were never to be trusted.

"There is shelter. And food. Fresh water." A dripping arm appeared as she pointed to the small grove of trees at the bottom of the cliff. "There. Ready for you."

Bucky squints at her for a moment, trying to work that out. Not enough water? Why would she need more water when he'd seen footprints on the sand beside him when he came to? Every answer just leads to more questions. When she points toward the grove of trees and says there's food and fresh water, that catches his attention more than figuring her out.

"Are you gonna be okay out here? I don't want to leave you all alone out here, you might get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt."

If she'd saved him (and he's starting think she might have) he doesn't want to pay her back by letting her get hurt.

His response made her blink, head tilting slightly. He was worried about...her? That was definitely different. Talia blinked again, tilting her head the other way, then shook it slightly. "This," and she splashed her arms lightly against the water's surface, "my home. Safe for me."

Land was the dangerous place for her, so heavy, gritty, and grainy. She disliked the feel of sand between her human toes; it grated like sharp shells across naked fins.

"Find shelter," she told him again, then glanced up at the clear blue skies. "Storm coming again tonight."

"Will you come back?"

The idea of being stuck on this island all alone for possibly the rest of his life is horrifying. He doesn't even have a book to his name, or anything to write with, or anyone to talk to except her. If she leaves him, he thinks he'll die of loneliness.

Or maybe he'll die trying to swim to the Philippines to find the US Army.

"Look, I'll go get in the shelter if you say the storm's coming back but are you sure you don't want to come with me? I'll worry."

Against her better judgment, Talia found herself giving his question serious thought. Her sisters would be appalled, and sternly advise her against any prolonged exposure to this human. Humans were for breeding. Eating, if food was scarce, although the thought of actually dining on one revolted her like nothing else.

But she could smell the storm coming, and the weather changed so quickly here in the islands. So, nostrils flaring with her capitulation, Talia once more instructed the soldier to go to the shelter, then she disappeared beneath the waves once more.

Only to reappear in the little pool near the shelter itself, having swam up from its outlet in the lagoon. She was still wary to breach the water entirely, but came out of hiding once she spied him nearby, although she lingered at the back of the pool, well out of arm's reach.

"Here I am."

Bucky isn't sure how anyone could swim that fast, not even an Olympic swimmer, so he tilts his head at her and his brows narrow before he looks and finds fruit there in the little shelter to eat. This has been prepared, then, but not for her - she doesn't want to get out of the water. For him? How did she have time to fix all this up for him? Was he out that long?

"Thank you for making a place for me," Bucky says, grabbing what looks like a mango and tossing it between his hands for a moment. He's had one exactly once, back at his dockworker job, and it'd been fucking good. It wasn't for him though. It was for a fancy hotel down in Manhattan.

"Are you scared of me? I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

That he thanked her brought a slight smile, and Talia nodded her head lightly. "You are welcome." She watched him toss the fruit and she swam a little closer, actually crossing her arms atop a slightly submerged stone near his edge of the pool.

"No," she answered after a minute or so. "Not...afraid. Not really." Wary, definitely. "What is name? Yours?" Her English was a little broken, somewhat stilted, but then she'd never really spoken to anyone else other than her own kin.

A delicate but wet hand touched her own throat. "I am Talia."

Bucky smiles at her, the first smile he's had in this whole bewildering experience, and touches his hand to his own throat the same way she'd done hers. Maybe it's the custom among her people (does she have people or does she live here alone? Was she shipwrecked? There's too many questions and not enough answers to go around.)

"James. I mean, Bucky. Most people call me Bucky. But you can call me James if you want. It doesn't matter. That's just my real name."

God, he's fumbling this. "Are you from here, Talia? Do you live on this island?"

"Two names?" Extraordinary. "You are...James Bucky?" She'd never heard of anyone having two names before. Didn't it get confusing, answering to one or the other? Or, even both? Her brows furrowed in thought, but lifted once more when he asked where she lived.

"...no." She shook her head. "I live...there." She pointed back towards the lagoon. "Beneath the water." She thought about sharing the fact that he'd visited her home before, but refrained; he likely wouldn't remember it, considering he'd been unconscious the entire time.

"You can't live under the water. You're not a fish," Bucky teases, grinning at her. "You're a lot prettier than a fish. You're as pretty as a mermaid."

It hits him after a moment and then his eyes widen. Is she a mermaid? Are mermaids real? Is he literally hallucinating a mermaid while he's bleeding out on a deserted island? If it's the last, it's a good way to go.

"And I actually have three names. James Bucky Barnes. But you can call me either James or Bucky. Whichever one you like the best."

Her eyebrows went up as she listened. ...did he really not know? But then, she reasoned, he probably didn't. Her older sisters had told her many times that humans didn't really believe in their kind; they couldn't understand how half-human creatures could exist. Sad, really. They were missing so much magic in their own world.

"Well," Talia said reasonably, "thank you, I think, because I am a mermaid." She pushed off of the rock, lightly bobbing in the water, and added, "See?" Then she disappeared again, only to flip upside down and splash her tail, strong, sinuous, and a brilliant pattern of iridescent blue-green scales, against the surface, sending out ribbons of water in all directions.

Emerging again, right side up, Talia was giggling as she pushed her wet hair back, emerald eyes glinting. "You believe now?"

Well damn. If he's hallucinating, it's a good one, and he looks at her glimmering tail with admiration before she flips back into the water and comes back up with her head and shoulders showing. It's not terribly bright in the little place she's built for him as shelter - it keeps him safe from the sun - but it's enough that he can tell she's not wearing anything.

"Do you just...not wear anything? At all?" Bucky knows that his throat is a little tight getting the words out.

"Cause I don't want to be looking at you and see things I'm not supposed to see. I'm not that kind of guy."

This time, she laughed, more than a little amused. "Of course not." She twirled in the water, small hands sending out ripples across the pool. "Why would I?" Garments like humans wore would just get in the way, become soggy and cumbersome. No point to them at all.

Curiosity piqued further, Talia tilted her head and swam a little closer. "What things? What are you not supposed to see? Are they bad things? Scary things?"

She honestly had no idea what he meant.

"...ghosts? Monsters?"

Bucky waves his hand at her. "You know, all of that. I shouldn't be seeing you naked if we're not together, you know? I've only ever seen girls naked when I've been with them. Not just...out there. Do none of you wear clothes?"

Bucky admittedly knows nothing about mermaids, nothing past old fables, and he doesn't know how much of that is true and how much of that is false. He's always been a reader and he wishes he knew more about mermaid tales right about now.

"Because you're...I mean, if I was with you, I would definitely want to be looking at you."

He had her blinking again. Confused, but still insatiably curious. "I'm...'naked'? What does 'naked' mean? Is that your word for me?" She slowly twirled around in the water, pondering. "I know bunch of languages. Well, many words in each. But this word, never heard. Explain to me?"

Again she swam to the edge of the pool, rising up enough so she could cross her arms on the sparse grass, long sinuous tail swishing slowly back and forth in the depths of the water. Green eyes were wide and curious, missing very little, and absolutely watching each and every move that he made.

"I want to know. Tell me?"

Bucky sighs and tries to decide how he's going to explain naked to someone who has no concept of what naked is. He pulls at his shirt and tugs it away, putting it to the side. It was hot anyway so this is as good a time as any to get rid of it and get some relief.

"See? I took my shirt off and now all you can see is my skin. That's naked. I haven't seen girls with their clothes off unless I've been sleeping with them. Does that make sense at all?"

"Why not? Is it...culture, in your language?" Her older sisters had eventually given up trying to explain every little nuance of human behavior to their youngest sibling, and had finally just dubbed it "culture", glossing over what they couldn't explain.

But those wide eyes didn't miss the sleek expanse of unmarked skin, and the ripple of muscle beneath it. Yes, this was a good catch. "...you're so pretty..." Talia heard herself sigh, leaning her cheek on one small arm. "You should be 'naked' too, James Bucky."

"Um, yeah, it's my culture," Bucky says. It's as good a way as any to explain it and it gets the point across without him fumbling around for words that make sense. Then she looks at him and leans her cheek against his arm and he has to close his eyes; her skin is so, so soft and she's so beautiful.

"Um, you can use one or the other. Use James," Bucky says. He doesn't know why he decides on that but he thinks that sounds better than Bucky and he'll just...let that be. When it hits him that she wants him naked he exhales sharply.

"Uh, I should probably not do that. We're not together. But I'll leave my shirt off because it's hot here."

She smiled again, lazy and warm. "But we are," Talia insisted, lifting her head. "We are 'together'. Right here, on my island." She gestured around. "See? Together." Therefore, it counted. And he should be 'naked', too. Especially since she wanted to see more.

"I want to see your legs," the mermaid abruptly told him, reaching out of the water to grasp at his pants' hem. "All humans have legs. But not us. Only when out of the water." She gave the faded fabric an insistent tug. "Please? Let me see?"

"Hey, whoa, if I take my pants off I'm just gonna be in my shorts, doll. I can't be running around like that."

Bucky thinks about it for a moment and realizes this is the only time in his life that a beautiful woman is tugging at his pants and asking him to get naked and he's saying no. It doesn't seem right, though, because she seems so innocent to him. He sighs and pops the buttons and wriggles out of them. At least his shorts had a chance to dry out on that beach.

"This pass for you?"

For now, apparently, because her eyes were riveted to the rest of his body, long, lean, and elegantly carved. He still wore some silly little garment around his waist, but that was fine. For now. She was able to look all she wanted, and Talia did, ever curious.

Finally, she heaved out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool, grimacing a bit as her shimmering scales began to fade, then separate, leaving her with two smooth, pale legs ending in very small feet, toes pretty and perfect. Gingerly standing, she was a little wobbly at first, but finally, with a tiny hand resting against a palm tree for balance, she stood before her soldier at last, clad in her long wet hair and naught else.

"See? I am also like you. Well," she amended, glancing down, "...almost?"

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