Author's Notes: Welcome to the sequel! Thank you to everyone who supported the first fic in this series. I really love "Coffee Girl" and I loved visiting it again and finishing it. Finding out someone out there read and enjoyed means a lot to me. Most people who left comments received personal responses. Those who signed in as guests, your comments were read and appreciated. I wish I could have thanked you personally.
Those who have kept up with the story thus far, I'm sorry, but the very brisk update schedule of a chapter a week is now ending with this sequel's chapter one. Now they will be posted as I manage to write them. I'm really excited to get to this story and I hope you will all come on this journey with me. Thank you for reading!
So put your hand in mine
We'll be fine, I know
I know that
If you stay tonight
I promise I will show you
I will fight
'Cause I will fight and I will beg
I just want to hear you say
That tonight will be alright
If you will stay.
-Lee Dewyze, "Fight"
All Of Me
By: Ty-Chou aka Ghost of the Dawn
Chapter One: Stay
Ultron was dead. The word 'deactivated' didn't seem quite right to define what happened. Yes, he was a machine and he hadn't even been a machine for all that long. But there was something alive about him, if misguided. And that, whatever it was, was gone. In his wake he left incalculable devastation and only things that were alive could cause such destruction.
No one considered this a win with the countless lives lost at the complete annihilation of Sokovia. Most citizens trapped on the chunk of the city that was raised into the sky were rescued. Most left on the ground lost their lives when the pieces fell to Earth. The only thing the Avengers prevented was world-wide extinction and little else. It was a hard truth to take and the heroes aboard the SHIELD rescue vessel were all silent as they processed what happened.
It would be a while until they found a safe, flat place to touch down and let out all the surviving Sokovians. Steve wandered off to the depths of the ship to find some privacy. He was heartsick and still shaking from it all. It hurt. It hurt bad in a place he didn't know how to heal. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a familiar number, hoping that he would catch her at a time when she could answer.
After only one ring, a female voice was instantly on the line. "Steve! Are you okay? We've been watching it on the news! Oh my god, I thought... I didn't know what I would do if..." Her voice trailed off, choking with emotion.
Steve decided he would not tell her that he narrowly managed to jump to safety just as the city fell. "Hey Marcy, I'm okay." At least physically that was true.
"What about everyone else? Clint? Nat?"
"Everyone on our team made it out."
"But a lot of people didn't," she said with understanding. "I know that's painful and it's going to be painful for a long time. Sometimes, even when you do your best, it's not enough. But I know you did your absolute best and you saved everyone that you possibly could. Let yourself mourn, but don't beat yourself up over things you could not change, okay? I love you."
"I love you, too." Steve choked a bit himself as he rubbed his face in exhaustion. "It's so good to hear your voice. Please talk to me a little while longer."
"As long as you need. Whatever you want to hear."
"Say you'll see me again soon."
"I will see you again soon. And again and again. I will always see you again. You're never going to stop seeing me. Not ever."
Steve smiled despite himself as he leaned tiredly against the wall. With all the good-byes he had said to women over a radio, he never wanted to stop hearing those words now. Her voice always soothed his nerves. She always knew exactly what he needed her to say.
.
"But if you put the hammer in an elevator..."
"It would still go up!"
"Elevator's not worthy."
Thor put a heavy, but friendly hand on Tony Stark's shoulder. "I'm going to miss these little talks of ours, huh?"
"Not if you don't leave," Tony shot back.
"Steve!"
The captain's face brightened as he saw who was walking up the hall of their pristine new Avengers base. Marcy, still in her own SHIELD uniform and fresh from the field herself, picked up the pace of her stride toward him. Bucky, also dressed in his usual black kevlar strolled behind her at a more languid pace.
Steve remained where he stood next to Tony and Thor, watching with a smile as Marcy was trying to keep herself from running to him. When she came close, he held out his arms to her with a "Jump!" She leaped into his arms and he caught her easily around the waist, hugging her tight.
Marcy hugged him around the neck and then kissed the side of his face before he let her down. She then appraised what he was wearing. "Is this your new suit? You went back to the red, white, and blue?"
"Yeah, it's got some better features. Better protection but more mobility. It holds my shield better, too." He paused when he noticed Marcy's eyes were still roaming his form. "You like it?"
"Oh, yeah," she said in a low voice, nearly biting her lip. Several males in her vicinity were smirking at her before she shook herself and addressed the other two with a smile. "Hi, it's good to see you both. I'm glad all of you are safe."
Tony smirked at her. "Well, if it isn't the B Team."
Marcy laughed and jerked her head in Bucky's direction. "Clint calls him D-List."
"That's true, he does call me that," Bucky confirmed neutrally.
"We could have used your help on this one, Agent Gray. Where were you through all of this?"
"I had already been in the field for two weeks. We stopped a flesh-eating virus from entering Chicago's water supply. You're welcome."
Bucky tossed the canteen he was holding to Tony, who caught it with horror. "Is this...?"
"It's water," Marcy laughed. She then turned to Thor who also pulled her into a big hug. "It's good to see you. How are you?"
"Better for seeing your face," he murmured back, still holding her.
Standing next to Steve, Bucky glared at the two. "What's this guy's deal?" he whispered to his friend. "I already don't like him."
Steve laughed a little and clapped him on his metal shoulder. "It's fine, Buck. Don't worry about it."
Marcy pulled back from the embrace. "So are you on your way out or are you staying for a while?"
"I was about to leave, but I can tarry a little longer for you."
"Great! I want to hear about what you've been up to. Did you find any of those... infinity rock... thingies you talked about?"
Thor's eyes widened in realization. "You don't know yet about the..." He motioned to a point on his forehead as he looked at Steve. Steve shook his head in answer. He had not informed Marcy about all that happened during the Ultron incident, or that they now had two new members of the Avengers, one a very mysterious and unconventional being.
"Oh, so now we've got to get the B Team up to speed, huh?" Tony said.
The three Avengers took turns explaining all that had happened within the mere past few days. Tony told them about Ultron, the self-loathing clear in his voice. Steve told them about Wanda and Vision, who were now going to be residents at the newly finished Avengers base where they were. Thor explained about the Infinity Stones, even sharing more information than what Steve and Tony had known.
The Infinity Stones weren't always literally just stones. They were entities of power that often changed forms at their leisure for whomever wielded them. Such as the Reality Stone, which had existed as a red mist known as the Aether for centuries before it fell back into a solid stone-like state. And for the Mind Stone, which formed itself from the power core of Loki's previous scepter to a yellow jewel which now embedded itself in Vision's forehead, giving him life. He confirmed that the Tesseract was also one such of these stones as well.
Bucky took in all the information with a fairly emotionless face while Marcy's expressions skipped around so much that it was almost comical. Bucky was used to being told things without any backtalk, but Marcy still had so many questions as she tried to process all this.
"This... this is crazy. This Vision guy, the stone just gave him life like that? Out of nothing?"
"Well, out of J.A.R.V.I.S. to be precise," Tony corrected.
"And he's not only alive, but he can phase through things and... and fly?" When Thor first told her of the stones, she believed they existed, but she never thought they would get anywhere near her own world. It was like a fantasy story suddenly come to life. "Has Bruce looked at this stone? What does he think?"
Tony looked away while Steve stepped closer with a regretful look. "We lost Bruce in the battle."
"Lost him? Like... he's dead? He died?"
"No, he took a jet and left during the fight. We don't know why. We don't know when or if he's coming back."
Marcy suddenly looked so lost. "Why would he want to do that? He was doing so well at SHIELD and being with all of us."
Tony sighed. He already missed his friend and it still hurt that Bruce took off without an explanation to even him. "Sometimes people gotta fight their demons alone. He'll come back when he's ready."
Marcy smiled at him when she realized that Tony was saying that more for himself than anyone else. "Yes. I know he will."
.
"This place is nice," Marcy told Steve as she looked around his personal living quarters. It was fully furnished with a large kitchen space and even larger living area. To the side, one part of the wall was floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the new outdoor training area within the compound's parameter. "You're really going to live here now? On this base?"
Steve looked around the generous space with its high ceiling and new furnishings. He was still impressed with it himself. "Before this, I had given up my apartment to live at HQ with Bucky, so this is a step up."
"No kidding." She motioned to all the high tech gadgetry and the sharp decorating of the place. "This isn't an apartment, this is a penthouse suite."
"And I don't have to share a room here," Steve added. "Bucky's graduated to having his own, which is nice if I have company." He raised his brows comically at her.
She grinned back. "Good. I'm glad he's doing better. Though..." Her smile faded. "When we were on that mission together, he still didn't sleep all that much. But you don't sleep much either, do you Steve?"
He just shook his head and then patted the spot next to him on the sofa. She sat beside him and leaned in as he put his arm around her.
"He seemed to get more sleep when I was around. I just started booking hotel rooms with two beds to make sure he got more than four hours."
Steve sighed. "I know there are things he's struggling with that I can't fix for him. He's in a safe place here, he's with people who care about him. Eventually, he's going to get used to it. I had similar problems at first. I slept seventy years. I didn't want to sleep anymore for a while. I would fight it until I was exhausted. Eventually, I fell into a normal habit. It takes time and it's something he has to do on his own."
"I know. But sometimes he just suddenly has such a lost look on his face. I wish I could do more for him."
They were quiet for a while, Marcy's cheek on his chest while he ran his fingers up and down her arm.
"So what about you?" Steve then asked. "Would you like to move up here?"
She sat back to look at him. "Move into this posh military base in disguise? No thank you. I like my house and my yard. I am very happy with it. But I'm not opposed to visiting," she added.
"What about staying the night?" he suddenly asked.
Marcy watched him, trying to read his face. There had been a very finite amount of instances where she and Steve Rogers had shared a night in the same living quarters. Only twice in the same bed. She was trying to figure out exactly what he was asking when he leaned forward and kissed her. It was a slow kiss, sweet and unhurried. With this kiss he tasted her, his hands coming up to cup her jaw. He breathed in and the kiss went deeper. There was a growing hunger in it now. Marcy let out a small whimper quite by accident and a fire ignited in his blood.
He moved forward, pressing his weight against her, his body pushing her back against the armrest of the couch. He kissed her needfully, breathlessly, and they both enjoyed a heavy make out session, hands going everywhere as they tried to find that physical intimacy they both craved.
After a few minutes, Steve pulled away, both of them panting. His body was still on hers, running hot and ready. Marcy rubbed her nose against his as she regained her breath.
"Stay," he whispered. "Whatever happens tonight, I just want you here with me."
She looked him in the face for several moments. Her fingers ran through his hair, then traced along his brow, his check bones. Her thumb traced over his lips before she tenderly kissed him on those same places. Steve's heart ached at the affection. That sudden fear of losing her to Hydra, that same fear of himself nearly dying in Sokovia overcame him.
He buried his face in her neck, taking in her scent. He shivered once and her arms instantly went around him.
"Stay," he asked again. "Stay with me."
.
Bucky, as usual, did not sleep; couldn't sleep. It was too silent in this state-of-the-art Avengers base; the bed too soft, the walls too new. Was he meant to live here now? Her preferred SHIELD Central better, sharing a large suite with Steve. Even better, he loved those days when he and Steve just lived at Marcy's house for a while. He didn't even mind sleeping on the pull-out couch.
He did not like the silence, the emptiness of living in this place. The silence reminded him of secret underground places were bodies slept, cold and still. It kept him awake. Plus, there were always other things; things that waited for him to sleep before they came to haunt and torment him. He was not in the mood to meet them that night.
Unable to sleep and unwilling to stay in his quiet, empty room, Bucky left his quarters and stalked the pristine, new halls of the Avengers base. Most denizens of the new facility were asleep or at least retired to their rooms. Bucky avoided the spare staff on night's watch as he nosed around the different levels and even wandered outside for a bit. He learned the base both outside and in before ending up on the roof, stalking up and down the length of it, watching the darkness below and the wooded area beyond the twenty-foot-tall fence.
Suddenly, Bucky had the feeling he was not alone on the roof. He turned and there was a being swallowed in red light in front of him. He immediately pulled out his gun, eyes wide and wild.
"No! Don't shoot! Please," the unidentified person begged, hands up. A second more and he realized it was a woman a bit younger than him. "Please," she repeated again. When he didn't comply, she made a jerking motion and the gun was suddenly out of his hand, floating a few feet above him in that same red light.
"I don't want to hurt you," the woman said in a thickly accented voice. "I just don't want you to shoot me."
Bucky took a breath, willing his instincts of kill or be killed to settle down. He was in a safe place. There was no danger here. "I'm guessing you're Wanda."
She floated down so her feet touched the roof. "No one told me who you were."
"Sargent Barnes." He paused and then added. "I'm Steve's friend."
She eyed him suspiciously, her gaze settling on his metal arm glinting in the various lights around the parameter of the base. "Is that why you're here, because you are Steve Roger's friend? Or is it because you are dangerous and SHIELD wants to keep tabs on you?"
"Both, probably."
Wanda returned his gun anyway. "I am here because the Avengers wanted to help me. And also because I too am dangerous."
"I'm sure you are."
She tipped her head as she looked at him. "You are not afraid of me."
"I guess not."
She squinted at him. "You are very hard to read, even though you are the reason I can't sleep. You have painted all the walls and corridors with your restlessness."
Bucky was suddenly unnerved by that statement and Wanda could tell.
"Are you reading my thoughts?"
Wanda did not answer the question. Instead, she said, "I asked for this power because I wanted to help my country. I regret it. It has never brought me anything good."
"I'm not sure why you're telling me this, Wanda. I just met you."
She smiled a little, reminding him that she was younger than him, and so much less experienced in his world. "Because you are like me: altered by people who lied to you, who wanted to change you. Kept prisoner and used as a weapon." Her smile turned bittersweet. "There is half of you missing, as my other half was taken from me in Sokovia. But mostly I came out here because your energy was making it difficult to sleep."
"I'm sorry. I... don't sleep much. It's not something I'm good at."
"I can help you sleep, if you like."
Bucky laughed a bit at that, not at all convinced. "I doubt there is anything you could do that-"
He didn't remember anything else that may have happened that night.
.
Always an early riser, Steve padded to the communal living area in sweats and bare feet, flipping on the large, overhanging flatscreen as he searched for the news and then possibly something to eat as he hadn't had a chance yet to stock the refrigerator in his own quarters. There wasn't much there either, the facility still being so new. He entertained the idea of going out to the nearest supermarket to pick up some food before the rest of the inhabitants on his floor began to stir.
Before he could go back to his room for shoes and keys, footage from the Sokovia incident flashed on the screen. He leaned his back against the counter as he watched, arms folded over his chest. The story began by neutrally covering the bare bones of the Sokovia incident. Then, Steve noticed the topic turned to the Avengers themselves and what they could do, how they were so different, so much more advanced than normal people. There was fear in the news story and a tone that made him on edge. He didn't quite like where this story was going.
Suddenly, he was distracted as a box of condoms nearly the size of a cereal box was slapped on the counter next to him.
"What's this?" he demanded.
Tony leaned against the counter casually, propped on one elbow. "A present. I thought you two kids would need some protection."
Steve stared at it for a moment, taking in the box art. "How..."
"How did I know? Well, for one, my security system told me you showed Agent Gray your room all night long. And two, you're sporting a nice post-coital glow there." He paused and then added. "Was this your first time ever, Captain?"
Steve's face flushed a little, but he refused to answer. Marcy walked in right then. "Hey guys. Woah, that's a giant box of condoms there. Yours, Tony?"
"Bought by me for you. So there's no little accidents. I understand the 40's hadn't really mastered the art of birth control."
Marcy didn't skip a beat as she threaded her fingers through Steve's and gave him an affectionate look. "Then I guess we better get busy. We still have to go through that other giant box of condoms we already have."
Tony laughed. "Keep her, Rogers. She's far better at comebacks than you." He looked up when he noticed another person was standing in the doorway. "Wanda. Would you like to come in and join us?"
The young Sokovian woman had wandered in since the news was playing on the TV. She wasn't expecting to so suddenly be in the midst of such a topic. "No thanks, I don't know any of you well enough to be a part of this conversation." She turned to leave and nearly ran into Bucky's chest. "Oh, Sargent Barnes. Did you sleep well?"
He looked at her stone-faced. "Like the dead, Wanda," he said with accusation in his voice. He couldn't even remember how he had gotten back to bed. His sleep had been heavy and dreamless, and Bucky was still trying to decide how irritated he was about it.
"You two have already met?" Steve asked them.
"Briefly," Bucky said as he walked further into the communal kitchen area. As he approached, everyone noticed he carried a very full duffel bag with him.
"What's with the bag, Buck?" Steve asked.
"I'm not staying here. I'm going back to Central HQ."
"Sorry Buck, we live here now."
He made an annoyed sound. "You didn't even ask me, Steve! I've been gone for two weeks and now I just live here?"
"I didn't think you would mind. I'm staying here now. I figured that's where you would want to be, too."
Bucky clenched his jaw. He did want to be wherever Steve was, but this place... he didn't like it. It would drive him crazy to live here. Just the thought of spending one more night here frayed him at the edges. "I don't mind going where ever you go Steve, but I can't stay here. I'm going back to HQ."
"You can't, Buck. They want you at this facility."
That irritated him even more. He worked for SHIELD, but that didn't mean they had jurisdiction over where he slept at night. "Fine. Then can I stay with you, Marcy?"
"Of course you can," she replied instantly. "You can stay as long as you like."
"No, you are not staying there," Steve insisted, his own irritation showing. "This is where we live now. Why are you fighting me on this?"
"And why are you getting angry, Steve?" Marcy asked with amusement. "He's not going anywhere you can't follow. You both have keys to the house, come over whenever you like. In fact, you can come over right now."
Steve gave her a befuddled look, opening his mouth to speak, but not knowing what to say.
"Because I'm going home right now," Marcy added.
"You're going home? Now?" Steve then said, sounding abandoned.
"Yes. I haven't been in my house for two weeks. I need to go home. I'll take James with me. You can come with me too, or you can drop by later. You're welcome to do whatever you want." When he continued to look both confused and irritated, she fixed his collar with amusement. "Steve, it's going to be fine. Neither one of us are going to disappear on you, but I really do need to go home. I was supposed to be back yesterday."
Steve breathed out loudly and muttered some sort of agreement as she ran her fingers through the hair at his nape and then stood on her toes to kiss his jaw.
"You know where to find us when you want to see us. Ready to go, James?"
Bucky just smiled, holding up his bag.
Marcy waved to everyone in the kitchen as they walked off. As the two were nearly out, Vision suddenly appeared through the wall next to them. Marcy let out a startled cry while Bucky swore at him, then both fled out the door.
Tony watched them go with amusement. "Well, Cap, it just keeps getting weirder and weirder, doesn't it?"
He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I guess it does."
.
A fifteen-year-old girl with dirty blonde hair and purple-rimmed glasses walked out on the porch when they drove up to Marcy's house.
"Hey, Katie," she greeted as she got out. "Thanks for taking that extra night. Sorry I wasn't able to make it back yesterday. How was everything?"
"Good." Most of the girl's attention was on the other man getting out of her car. Marcy called it back toward her.
"I saw that you had friends over while I was gone. You know I can see what you're doing on my security cameras."
Katie's eyes snapped forward, looking a little scared. "I'm sorry. It was just a couple of people who came over for pizza and movies. We didn't do anything crazy and we cleaned up."
"I know. You're very responsible." She handed the girl a good collection of cash. "There's a bonus in there for you. Thanks for doing such a good job. If you want, I'll call you again to house sit next time I'm out of town."
"Okay!" She grinned and then her attention was right back on Bucky as he walked past them without a word and into the house.
"Where's Stev—Um, Captain Rogers?" Katie asked with a bit of a flush in her cheeks.
"He's at work. He's got a new compound that I guess he's running."
"So, what's that guy doing here then?"
Marcy almost laughed. Bucky had been around just as much as Steve lately, but he always lurked in the house and Katie, who lived a few houses down, never bothered to learn his name. Not when the famous and very charming Captain America was over and was far more sociable.
"He's... going to rent the guest bedroom for a while, I think. Until he finds a place of his own. Don't worry about it. Thanks again, Katie. Tell your mom I said you did a great job."
She waved off the young teen before stepping inside. Bucky was nowhere in the front of the house. She found him in the guest room, flopped face down on the bed and not moving. Dippy had already discovered him and was standing on the soldier's back, butting his head against the back of Bucky's skull, purring. During the handful of days the two soldiers had stayed at Marcy's house, Bucky quickly became one of the cat's most favorite people.
"You okay?" Marcy asked.
Bucky mumbled something into the comforter and then turned his head so he was audible. "What's wrong with me that I can't handle moving into a new building when I was just fine staying in old, nasty hotels with you for two weeks?"
"You're fine, James. I prefer this house to a compound any day."
"I'll see if maybe I can find my own place or something. I'll try not to be in your hair for too long. You're probably getting tired of seeing my face by now."
Marcy's cell buzzed in her pocket. "Don't worry about it," she said as she checked the ID and then answered. "Hey, what's up?"
"Hey," Natasha's voice greeted her on the other end. "You left too fast. I didn't even get to see you."
Marcy walked out the backdoor so she could have the conversation more privately outside. "Well maybe you would see me more often if you didn't bail on me so fast. I thought we were partners."
"We still are. Hunting for Loki's scepter was unfinished business. I like to finish what I start. It's a one-time thing. Next time we're called out, it's you and me again."
"Okay, I'll hold you to it."
After a pause, Natasha asked, "So, how was it, a full two weeks with... Sargent Barnes?"
Marcy made an amused sound. "He still scares you a little, doesn't he?"
"He doesn't scare me. I just wouldn't turn my back on him. You haven't seen this guy in action, Marce. What Hydra did to his head, it was like his humanity was gone. It was like fighting a heartless killing machine. Sorry if it makes me a little wary. Are you really just putting him up in your house? You two alone? It worries me."
"It will be fine. I don't think it's a long term thing. He might decide to go back to the compound with Steve, you never know. I think going this two weeks without Steve made him realize he needs to figure things out for himself. They've been joined at the hip for nearly a year and now he's trying, I think, to do things on his own.
"You keep seeing him as this deadly hitman, Nat, but all I see is this... confused, aimless person. In fact, the more time I spend with him, the more I realize he doesn't always mean it when he smiles. Most of the time he's very lost and... deeply sad. And I can't do anything for him but give him a safe place to sleep. I wish I could do more. I worry about him all the time."
"Well, I worry about you, Marce. Don't ever forget that the things he did was because someone easily pulled his strings. We still don't fully understand how that works or how easily it could happen again. I knew you'd be safe as long as Steve was there. But with that mission and now this... you being alone with him—just promise me if he starts changing his behavior that you'll say something to somebody. Don't try to fix it yourself, okay?"
"Don't worry, Nat. It's going to be fine. And I'm hopeful this will be a temporary arrangement. Maybe he will go back to the compound after he's warmed up to the idea. We've been gone for two weeks and we were looking forward to being home and then he was told he couldn't go back to his familiar place. That's gotta suck. I don't blame him for feeling a little displaced. I'm just going to give him some time to figure it out.
"But since you called, I wanted to ask, do you know what happened with Dr. Banner? Why he just left like that?"
Natasha's sigh was heavy on the other end. "I really don't know what happened. He jumped on a jet to fight one of the robots and then just... kept going. I got on the radio and tried to get him to turn around but... it wasn't Bruce who was on that plane. It was the other guy. When he's in control, I honestly don't know if there's any of Bruce to try to talk to."
Marcy didn't know either. "Wherever he's going, I hope he's okay."
"Me, too. Well, he knows how to call us if he wakes up in some random location and needs a pickup." Natasha paused and then attempted to lighten the conversation. "So, Steve is already moping around the place without you."
"Already? I saw him barely more than two hours ago!"
Natasha chuckled on the other end. "I think he's disappointed both of you left him and didn't even stay for breakfast."
"I told him he could come. It's his own fault he's over there and we're over here."
"I think he likes it here, though. He seems excited about the new base. He told me he has plans for it."
"He sounded excited to me, too. I'm really glad he's found something that makes him feel like he has a purpose. Now we just have to help this other one with his purpose." Marcy glanced back at the house.
A male voice sounded in the background on Natasha's side of the call and then Clint's voice saying "Hey, is that Marcy?" There was a pause and then Clint's voice was far closer and clearer on the phone. "So I saw the box of condoms. Yeaaah! Get sooooome!"
"Oh my god," Marcy muttered as she promptly hung up the phone on him.
She looked up as she heard the back door slide open and Bucky stepped out into the sun, casually eating an apple. His thick, unruly hair was allowed to blow free and wild as usual. Bucky kept his hair clean, but hadn't gotten in the habit of taking care of it more than that. It was now past his shoulders and practically swallowing his face. It drove Marcy crazy the entire two weeks she had been in close quarters with him.
"What do you think about going to get your hair cut?"
Still chewing, he raised a brow at her.
.
"I want to keep it long. I like it that way," Bucky insisted to the young man at the salon who was half inspecting his hair and the other half checking out the tall drink of water that was James Barnes.
Marcy reached up to finger the tips of his unruly hair. "Cut off a few inches and then taper it so it's not so thick at the bottom like this."
The hairdresser, who introduced himself as "Kevyn with a Y", looked to Bucky for confirmation as to what he wanted. The brunette soldier just stood there with a closed-mouth smile, not adding anything to the statement.
"Alright," Kevyn said, eager to get his hands on that gorgeous man's thick head of hair. "Step right up."
He motioned to his chair: stainless steel and black leather. Bucky's smile instantly dropped at the sight of it and his heart picked up. His brain instantly went back to that deep, underground place of wall-to-wall concrete where they kept him frozen time and again. When they needed him, when they pulled his body from the ice, the place where the metal of the arm touched his skin always burned for hours after. And they would put him in The Chair.
It wasn't exactly like the barber chair offered to him now, but it was close enough to trigger the memory. They would strap him down, program him, torture him, and then send him off to do unspeakable deeds.
"Sir?" Kevyn asked.
"James, you can go sit," Marcy said, her hand touching his back.
He shook himself and sat in the chair, repeating to himself over and over that he was not in that place. There was no reason he should feel threatened here. He could do this. He could just sit in this chair and let this man cut his hair and it would be over.
Bucky breathed in and out much longer and harder than a normal breath would sound as Kevyn ran his fingers through his hair, checking the volume and the length before he began his task. From behind Kevyn leaned over him, showing Bucky in the mirror the length of his hair at the front.
"How about we cut it about here? I think that is a perfect length for this gorgeous bone structure of yours."
Bucky gripped the arms of the chair tight without realizing it. He was staring at the mirror, but he wasn't really looking. His mind was stuck years in the past. "Yeah," he managed to rasp out.
The chair was spun around and his whole body stiffened, his heart picking up anew. This time, Kevyn was in front of him, entering his personal space as he tipped the chair back toward the sink to wash the hair. Bucky felt all the personal space around him be swallowed by the other man's body. He could feel the straps on his wrists from that terrible chair, the pain of being pulled from the deep freeze still biting at his raw nerve endings. And then, the real pain would begin as they attempted to fry James Barnes out of the Winter Soldier's head.
He was pushed back, the hiss of running water in his ears. His hair was wet now, as it always was when pulled from ice. Kevyn reached down to cup his skull and to begin washing. Bucky couldn't take any more. In a panic, he shoved the young man back and scrambled out of the chair. Kevyn let out a startled cry as he almost fell.
"Hey man, what the hell?"
Bucky, wild-eyed and out of it, grabbed the lip of the sink and Kevyn saw the metal hand crack it.
"What—what are you?"
Bucky looked near to attacking the young man until Marcy stepped in.
"James." The voice was stern, but soft. And it broke him out of his nightmare. Her gentle touch on his metal arm instantly loosened his grip and he let go. Bucky was still breathing hard with distress when she put an arm around the small of his back and spoke softly. "Let's go home, okay?"
He let out a long, shaky breath and allowed her to lead him away. Marcy promptly returned to Kevyn once she had walked him out and offered the young man a good amount of money and several apologies before leaving.
On the drive home, both were silent in the car. Bucky's hair dripped heavily with water in the back and was still dry in the front.
"I'm sorry," he whispered after all while. "I didn't know that I would... do that."
"It's okay. It's not your fault."
"Can we... not tell Steve what happened? Please?"
Marcy reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him a quick smile. "It will be okay," was all she said.
.
Once home, Bucky went to the guest bedroom to sulk and replay the scene in the salon over and over on his head. What was that? Why had he reacted so extreme when he wasn't in danger? Why did it feel like he had been slowly unraveling, not just within the last few weeks, but the last few months? He couldn't put a name to the problem, but there was one and he had no idea how it worked against him or how to fix it.
He looked up when Marcy knocked on the open door frame.
"Hey, come with me for a moment," she invited and walked up the hall.
Bucky followed into the dining area where a kitchen chair was pulled out for him.
"Sit," Marcy said.
Bucky looked at the kitchen chair. An armless chair with a material back that he had sat in many times for both dinner and just social times around the table. He sat curiously and then Marcy draped a towel over his shoulders.
"How's that? Okay?" she asked.
Bucky nodded, not sure what was going on; until she produced a pair of scissors.
"I just watched a few videos on The Youtube, so I can't promise a professional job. But I'll do my best."
The side of his mouth ticked up a little. "Do as you like. I don't mind."
He felt a comb slowly slide through his hair, pulling out the tangles gathered from the earlier incident. It felt nice and he happily sat there in silence. It was one of his favorite things about spending time with Marcy. They didn't always have to talk when they were together. Sitting silently in the same room was just as comfortable. He had originally thought she called him to the kitchen to talk about what happened. Women always wanted to talk, he vaguely recalled when he was a younger man, always chasing skirts. Always demanding to know what he was thinking at that moment. Marcy felt no need to converse with him as she took her time, trying to figure out how she was going to attack this new task she had given herself.
It took her a while to decide on a first cut. She would poise the scissors, change her mind, comb through his hair again and choose a different plan of attack. Bucky had infinite patience for it. He could sit there all day with her touching his hair. It was calming. It soothed all the raw nerves that had been exposed from the earlier incident.
Eventually, Marcy took the plunge of that first bold cut and a clump of dark brown hair fell to the floor. A few others began to fall with it. Then she paused and made a worried noise. Bucky didn't care. Hair was such a trivial thing to him. There was nothing that could be done to his hair that he couldn't grow back. After a few more hesitant moments of fiddling with his hair and looking at him from various angles, Marcy found new resolution and began cutting again.
This is time, she eventually found her rhythm. A few snips, then she would comb through his hair, take a few glances at it, and then cut again. Bucky let his thoughts wander off, not ruminating on anything in particular. He was good at letting time slip by. He could wait for hours, unmoving, forever patient. That's what made him so adept at his job as an assassin.
It was probably a good forty-five minutes before his attention was brought back to the here and now. Marcy crouched in front of him and pulled on the ends of his hair to check that they were the same length on each side. Though her face was right in front of his, her focus was only on the hair. Bucky's gaze wandered her, taking in the shape of her face and the color of her eyes up close. His inspection remained unnoticed, even when she took him by the chin to change the position of his head. That adjustment made his eyes fall to her lips as she pressed them together.
"That might be as good as it's going to get from me," Marcy announced as she stood. She ran her fingers through his hair and watched how it fell. "It's a little shorter than I meant it to be, but that just means it will be longer before you need to cut it again."
Bucky finally broke his gaze from her and ran his fingers through the unfamiliar length of his hair.
Marcy walked around him and removed the towel from his shoulders. "Go check it out in the mirror. And if you hate it, I'm sorry."
He chuffed at that. "I'm sure it's fine." He walked down the hall to the bathroom while Marcy fetched a broom. Before the mirror, Bucky inspected his new look and stared at his reflection. He looked... like a normal person. Casual, modern. Not like some drifter who lurked and hid in the shadows. James Barnes stared back at him, looking human and whole. But Bucky knew better as he stared at his own blue eyes in the mirror. The Winter Soldier was still in there, unwilling to vanish from his soul, no matter how much he tried to imagine he wasn't. Today was proof of that.
"What do you think?" Marcy asked from the doorway.
He turned toward her, smiling. "I like it. Thank you. For everything."
She patted the side of his face before walking off. "Anytime."
.
The sun had set a while ago, but Bucky continued to jog through the night. He preferred it that way. He liked the dark; the way it hid all things that lurked and sniffed around after sundown. As he ran up and down the unassuming suburban streets, no one cared that he was out in their neighborhood. No car slowed with concern when they passed by. Everything here was safe and normal. They didn't know they had a killer roaming their streets.
And he was a killer. As much as he didn't want to think about it, as much as he tried to pretend it wasn't the truth, as much as he tried to run away from it up and down these peaceful streets, he could not ever escape what he was and what he had done. The longer he was here, attempting to be a normal person, the more it became obvious that he was not.
He ran and ran until his lungs burned and he was soaked in sweat. Then he finally returned to the small house he knew and stomped up the front porch, metal arm feeling heavy. The house was silent inside. Marcy was asleep on the couch, a book pressed against her chest and a nearly empty glass of wine on the coffee table next to her. Had she tried to wait up for him? She should have set the alarm and locked the door instead of falling asleep like that.
With a sigh, he bent over and slid his arms under her back and knees. Lifting her up, he carried to her to her room. She only stirred slightly when he placed her in bed. As he covered her with the blanket, she was already sound asleep again.
Once that was finished, Bucky set about locking up the house properly and setting the alarm. The last order of business was to turn off all the lights for the night. He flicked off the last one in the dining room, plunging the house into complete darkness. There he stood, listening to the silence and the crickets chirping outside. It was late. He should be going to bed himself. But Bucky never liked bed, never looked forward to the time when he had to sleep.
Still surrounded by the night, he walked down the hall and paused at the doorway to the guestroom. His gaze remained further down toward the bedroom at the end of the hall. No sound came from Marcy's room. Even when he approached the semi-open doorway, Bucky couldn't hear a thing, not even her breathing.
One thing he learned about Marcy while on that two-week mission with her was that she was the most silent sleeper he had ever seen. Steve rolled a lot, heaving big sighs or muttering in his sleep. He was a noisy sleeper even as a kid. Bucky was sure he himself tossed and turned during the few hours he slumbered as well. But Marcy usually didn't move or make a sound. The first night they booked a hotel room together on their mission, Bucky had gotten out of his bed to check to see if she was still breathing because she was so quiet.
Now he suddenly found himself at her doorway, listening. If he held his breath, he could catch her breathing every now and then. He asked himself why the silence of this house was different than the silence of the new Avengers compound. Why did that place scrape at his nerves while here he found comfort? Why did he have to have such weird hangups about normal things? Why was he so broken?
Bucky sat himself on the floor outside Marcy's room and ran his hands through his hair, his face nearly pressed to his knees. He still remembered life before all this when he was the real James Barnes. Back then, when he was young and carefree, he never imagined one could struggle like this just to sleep. He always slept well as a young man, deep and heavy, through any kind of noise. Now, his recollection of that and being unable to go back to that state again made him so frustrated he wanted to cry.
The only time he could recall sleeping so good was that one late morning at HQ. It had been a restless, sleepless night with Marcy constantly flopping around between himself and Steve, trying to fight off a terrible fever. But that morning he had woken up in Marcy's arms, her warm body pressed against him. That human contact hushed his demons and made him feel normal for that brief moment. He had craved it ever since.
On their missions, when they shared a hotel room, their separate beds next to each other, Bucky would stay awake, staring at the ceiling. Every part of him was aware she was so close. His body remembered hers and longed for simple human contact. If she were single, maybe he would have said something about it by now. But this was not the kind of thing you brought up to your best friend's girl.
When he shared living quarters with Steve, he would just sleep on Steve's floor on nights like this and it was good enough to get him through it. Even that didn't seem appropriate here. He wished Steve wasn't staying at that stupid compound. He should have just come home with the two of them. Even when he was far away on the pull-out couch, Bucky could always sleep with both of them here in the house.
Bucky let out a deep breath and forced his thoughts out of the deep self-pity hole he had wallowed in. He was in Marcy's house. This place never scraped at his nerves. He felt calm and safe here, even if he couldn't sleep tonight. He slept too well last night, thanks to that strange witch in scarlet. So he would merely content himself with listening to the crickets outside and he would wait for dawn.