This is my first time posting a fanfic... ever... Usually I just start them, have some fun with them, and drop 'em... Any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated.
Her tongue was stuck between her teeth as she drew the line with the slowly drying out sharpie.
She jumped, turning around to the wall she'd stood with her back to.
"James! James, only exactly one foot 7 until I'm there!" she jumped in joy, squeaking slightly.
She heard the chains and tags of his collar rattle, and knew the small dog had jumped off the bed and was now running over to her.
He was still a pup, but he was growing, and she found herself jealous of just how quickly he grew.
The dog barked sitting down by her feet.
"You're hungry 'eh? You know how it goes though, we gotta see dad first. Then comes breakfast." she picked the dog up to hold it under her arm, on her hip.
The young girl picked up her keys from the scarred wooden table and ran out the door, the dog now held tightly against her chest as she sped down the side walks, past parks, startling some walkers and jumping over obstacles to get to their destination as quickly as possible.
"Alight, Jamie, do that- your thing." she couched by the large doors, heaving slightly as she looked at the puppy.
He trotted around her lazily, clumsily, the same way he did every day. And just like every day, she heard some 'aaaw's and 'you again's.
She peeked around the corner carefully, to see all the guards busy petting and ogling her pup.
Everything was going according to plan, like every day. And so she snuck past the five men, and sped out of their field of vision before strolling down one hallway after the other.
She had no interest in any of the art exhibited in the beautiful museum, all she cared about was one grey wall.
And as she stood before it, she adjusted the military green cap on her small head, stood straight, and then saluted. The small step of hers echoing through the large hall.
"Sir." she greeted the images bravely.
And just like every day, she fell to her knees, and began sobbing. She sobbed over the men fallen, over the men she wished she'd known. About the men she wished were her fathers, about the images she wished she had chance to idolize. About her loneliness, and how lost she was. Begging them for help, to give them some of their bravery some day, begging them for courage and heart, in silence.
Until she heard the small paws run towards her, followed by the heavy steps of two guards.
"You again. Get out." Like every day.
Like every day she was grabbed by the collar of her oversized zip up hoodie. And struggled as they dragged her out.
And one last time she read the name. "James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes." and smiled as she let them pull at her, drag her bottom to the gates, and drop her there, with her dog.
She sighed heavily as she got up and pulled at the collar of her hoodie for it not to continue to choke her so.
"Let's go get some food, Jamie." she mumbled quietly as she picked up the dog again. It whined slightly and licked her hand as it wagged its tail.
Her hands on her knees and the dog now secured below her hoodie, by her belly she heaved, trying to get more air than possible in her lungs. She slid down the stinking concrete wall and sat in the alley, near the exit for a quick escape in case the fat man had managed to keep up with her enough to keep her in sight and know where she'd gone.
"Jamie." she cooed as she pulled the fresh, warm loaf of bread out from her wide sleeve. The dog poked its head out from underneath the hoodie as she split the crusty goodness in half. She held one half up to the dog as she tore a piece off her own, with trouble, it was awfully chewy inside.
The dog had devoured his half insanely quickly, as she was still picking pieces off of her own to relish between her teeth.
She chuckled as the pup licked its nose looking at her. She was about to hand what little of hers was left to it, when someone kicked her legs. The dog began to growl and step back as she felt fear rise within her.
But she quickly realised, as she heard a loud thump and her dog jumped, startled, that she was not kicked, but someone had fallen over her. She gasped, dropping the bread and reaching for the puo out of instinct, rising to her feet as she stared at the dark figure lying on the pavement.
Her breathing was ragged and she was shaking terribly, unable to move, or avert her eyes.
Were they dead? Did she kill them?
She'd never seen a dead man, but she was sure this was one.
She jumped, squeaking when they groaned, pressing a previously limp hand on the ground to lift themselves up. She heard their teeth grind as they lifted their upper body up.
But they broke back down, and instinctively her hand moved to reach out for them, but stopped.
She stuffed the dog into her hoodie, zipping it up to secure the warm, moving bump beneath.
"A- are you okay?" she took a step forward, stepping right onto the bread, now squishy from the wet ground of yesterday's rain.
She heard another groan and a loud metal clang, and her hands sped to cover her ears as she closed her eyes. There in the darkness she saw the images of the smiling man, his name embedded in stone, telling her to be brave.
Her eyes began tearing and almost instantly the tears fell, rolling down her cheeks.
Shaking she extended her hand, lowering onto her knees to lean over and shake the man's shoulder.
"Please, don't be dead."
She heard people walk past the entrance of the alley, the rare looks they spared her were quickly averted, she knew.
Another groan, more quiet, less aggravated, more gentle and in her mind, he was not dying anymore.
So she wiped away the tears and looked up at the grey skies. It would rain soon.
"I'll be right back, don't move, it'll be just a second!" she scrambled back onto her feet, and ran, ran fast as she could for the third time that day.
She hopped down the stairs of the small shop of useless junk located under the apartment complex she lived in.
"Ma'am! Ma'am it's time you sell me that red cart of yours! I have important business to take care of!" she puffed out her chest much as she could as she breathed heavily. Standing surrounded by junk, rusty metal figures, cutlery and ancient cheap furniture.
The old woman behind the counter pushed up her glasses leaning over the counter to be able to look at her.
"How much this time?" she asked sceptically.
The girl gulped, she hadn't thought this far. But when did hero's ever? She wanted to be a hero, and this was her chance!
Her hands reached into her pockets but there was no change. She looked outside, at the small flat red cart. A wagon that said 'Radio Flyer' on the side in white letters that were beginning to peel from the red.
"All I have is this." she zipped down her hoodie to reveal the heckling puppy.
The woman's eyes grew with curiosity, and temptation, and she learned over the counter even further, and the girl almost thought she'd fall. Her face was wrinkly, old, her hair pulled back into a bun with what looked like two chopsticks to the girl.
"So?" the girl urged, quietly. On one hand praying she'd say no, on the other... all hero's made sacrifices, no matter how painful.
"His name is James, I think he's a labradoodle." she mumbled looking at the pup.
And before she knew it he was taken from her, grabbed with two hands around his torso, under his forelegs.
"Oh no, dear this is a German Shepherd, a fine exemplar at that. Yes, my love, get your damned cart." the woman mumbled as she oogled the dog as if looking for damage on some precious charm.
The girl frowned but stomped out, grabbing an umbrella by the door, and taking the cart with her as she ran, again.
Two blocks she ran, her heels occasionally kicking the cart behind her, nearly causing her to fall on her faxe.
But to her relief the man really hadn't moved. He was still lying there, face down, dark as a shadow in the narrow alley.
She rubbed her hands together, and tucked the umbrella under her arm. Without saying another word, but groaning as she lifted the man onto the cart. She had trouble, pushing and pulling at him endlessly. It felt like it had taken an hour to her.
When he was finally positioned, his legs hanging over the end with the long handle she pulled on, she opened the umbrella. He was unconscious, she hoped, he was certainly breathing.
She crossed his limp arms and placed the now open umbrella there, to hide him best she could.
His hair was hanging in his face, it was fairly long. He wore large black boots, pants of a material she'd never seen before, a black wife beater, and a leather jacket.
It began to rain as she still stared at the odd sight, something was missing.
She let out a happy gasp when she took the hat of her head, and placed it on his.
It was too small, but the brim hid his face even better.
She wrapped her hands around the handle of the cart, and pulled. But he didn't move. She groaned, trying again and the rusty wheels began to turn.
One block. Two blocks.
Dozens of people stopped conversing to silently stare at her, and her cart.
"Oh no." the girl stared at the stairs. They suddenly seemed endless, the five of them, leading to the door of the apartment complex.
She looked at the unconscious man, and the entrance of the small shop she'd gotten the cart from. The woman inside stared with wide eyes, and quickly pulled her curtains shut.
The girl sighed, she'd doubted she would've helped in the first place.
She turned the cart around, and pushed it up against the starea, for the man to be with his back to them. She climbed over it, and put her hands under his arms, to begin pulling. "This might hurt. I'm sorry."
Ten minutes later, of her nearly giving up, nearly crying, stair after stair, she fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the door.
Only to be greeted with another, longer, flight of stairs.
She wiped the rain off her forehead, sighing what sounded more like a sob as she pulled him across the dirty floor, almost the way she had been only that morning, and every morning before.
She was halfway there, another ten minutes later, when her hands slipped from his wet jacket and she fell back, hitting her head on a stair.
Her hand clamped over the aching spot on the back of her head, as they both laid there, on the stairs. She sobbed, her elbows on the sides of her face, trying to hide it and subdue the pain. She was angry. She wanted to stop being a hero, return the cart, the umbrella, and the man, and get her puppy back. She wanted to curl up with him and sleep. She wanted to stop being a hero.
But heroes didn't just stop. And she couldn't let this chance go. She couldn't leave this man out in the cold.
She moved finally, to pull him up stair after stair again. When she saw his face, her hat had fallen off his head and his hair fallen back.
His face… it was dirty, he had a stubble. He was a normal man.
That was the least she'd expected. She didn't even know what she's expected.
He was her ticket to heroism until now, she realised, not a man, just a chance.
Now that he was a man, she found her strength again, and pulled tugged using the last of her strength. Until he was in front of her door, and she broke down, her knees colliding with the ugly chess tile painfully, panting.
She caught her breath slowly, and remaining on her knees she unlocked the door pushing it open, creaking quietly.
She pulled him in and shut the door loudly, stumbling to sit on the armchair by the window.
Her eyes were heavy as she tiredly brushed her wet hair out of her face and gazed at the body on her floor. She'd saved him, she was sure.