You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad it was over

-Somebody That I Used To Know; from Gotye

Brooklyn, NY; 1935

Bucky noticed her before she noticed him. It was late Saturday night and pouring down rain; anyone unfortunate enough to be stuck outside for whatever reason were hurrying back to their homes. The weather, for the most part, had been consistently muggy, but it hadn't rained until that Saturday. For Bucky, he had spent a better part of the day with his friend, Steve Rogers. Steve - small, skinny, sickly Steve - had gotten a really bad nasal infection, which somehow turned into a nasty head cold. Which meant that Bucky had to help take care of him. Little Steve Rogers was known in the Brooklyn neighborhood they lived in for getting very sick very often. It effected his social life immensely, since being sick so often when he was a little kept him from making proper friends. Though, no one was really going out of their way to be nice to Steve. Bucky was the only person who genuinely went out of his way to befriend him. All the illnesses also effected Bucky's small friend academically. Due to many absences throughout the school year, that meant that Steve would get behind in all of his classes. If it hadn't been for his friend bringing him homework every day after school, Steve wouldn't have made it.

But in that moment, after leaving Steve's home and trying to get back to his apartment, Bucky noticed her. She had to be a year or two younger than him, at least. She seemed to be somewhat slender, but had defined curves. The woman was wearing a black, polka dotted dress that clung to her skin. Her dark, short (probably bobbed) hair clung to her face and neck. Her heeled shoes were making it difficult for her to move on the slippery sidewalk. Her arms were over her head, a failing attempt to keep herself dry. But the way her body looked, the way she was dressed, what she was doing, was not as important. It was the color of her skin, the way the occasional passerby would glare at her or purposefully move far away from her. The woman obviously had the skin tone of someone who was African American, only she had a lighter complexion. But it looked like she wasn't fully African American. That was Bucky's guess, at least. She was doing her best to hurry down the sidewalk, and anyone who happened to be going in the same direction or in the opposite direction would do nothing to help her out. They'd give her dirty looks or walk around her with a ridiculously big amount of space between them.

That was when something stirred in Bucky. No one was willing to help her go where she needed to go, no one was willing to at least help her keep her dry. If anyone who came by would brush her off as anything less than needing help, then Bucky would be the one person to give her the assistance he believed she needed. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, right?

Quickly going over to where she was, Bucky pulled off the jacket he wore and pulled it over their heads. Naturally, she jumped in fear at that. Bucky swore she jumped at least five feet, a startled screech escaping her, which he found to be a bit amusing but completely understandable. Anyone in their right mind would be startled if a random stranger did what Bucky did. He had stopped to look at her, seeing her brown eyes wide with fear, her breathing labored and her arms pulled in with her hands against her chest. Her mouth was opened slightly, then she shut her mouth and pursed her lips.

"What do you want?" she asked, a clear Southern accent lacing her words. Her words were harsh, snappish. Bucky could tell she wasn't comfortable with him so close to her, and, again, he found that understandable. In the time they were living in, anyone who wasn't white - preferably a white male - would be treated as if they were less than human. It didn't take much for Bucky to wonder what kind of treatment she must have faced in her life. "What do you want from me?" she pressed, her voice harsher and louder.

"N-Nothing!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm not trying to do anything, trust me. I just thought you needed some help."

With a scoff, she shook her head. "This is some kind of joke, right?" she seethed. "A trick? You trying to lead me somewhere?"

Bucky's brows furrowed. "I'm not that kind of guy," he said.

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed, her brows furrowing. "I had a friend get killed by a white guy who got her when she was alone. Lynched her right outside her home."

A dreadful feeling filled him. She thought he was there to kill her? It wasn't uncommon for white men to do something that extreme. A lot pf people thought that the eradication of anyone who wasn't white would "cleanse" the nation. For Bucky, he couldn't comprehend that kind of thinking.

"I promise you, I will not do anything like that," he assured her. "I've never thought about doing that to anyone. Please, I just wanted to help you."

The two stared at each other for a long time. She was really thinking about whether or not he was telling the truth, he could see it written all over her face.

-.x.x.x.-

Ginnifer Șăineanu couldn't stop herself from being suspicious of the man. What other reason would he have to approach her, if not to hurt her? She'd seen racial violence countless times in her hometown in Mississippi. The South was flooding with all kinds of racial violence, and it only seemed to get worse with each passing day. It was because of Ginnifer's parents that she and her siblings managed to get out of that environment. Being sent to the North to live with relatives had been the best course of action, something Ginnifer was grateful for, but she couldn't help but still feel hostile and cautious when it came to white people. Northerners weren't as open with their violence as Southerners, but plenty of them knew how to subtly display their distaste and resentment of any person of color. A lot knew how to openly express their displeasure of having anyone who wasn't white living in the same city as them. That was why it was common for the white people to live in better neighborhoods and have access to better things, while everyone else was sent to live in slums.

Ginnifer was very aware of how people would go to extreme measures in order to get a sense of comfort. Sending people of color away to live in slums, where they wouldn't have the same kinds of access to things as white people, gave a sense of comfort to everyone who didn't have to live there. As long as the separation was intact, then things could go about "normally". The only reason Ginnifer found herself in a predominantly white part of Brooklyn was because she had to make a trip to a grocery store that sold medicine her cousin needed. That was the only reason Ginnifer Șăineanu was in that area.* Unfortunately, the store she went to either didn't have the medicine her cousin needed, or the pharmacist was refusing to sell it to her. Either way, Ginnifer knew she had to get back home, especially when the weather started getting bad.

But here was this guy, coming up to Ginnifer on her way home, claiming that he wanted to help her, that he wasn't going to hurt her. Was she going to believe him? Absolutely not. That was her immediate reaction. But he sounded so genuine, which was kind of making Ginnifer's immediate response to him falter a little. She had to figure her feelings out quickly, if she planned on getting home soon.

(A/N):

Sorry for the wait on this chapter! Really, I'm so, so sorry. I was sidetracked by work and school, so I completely forgot about this for a moment. I'll completely understand if this chapter isn't the best, honestly I'm not really liking it either. If you've got constructive criticism, don't hesitate to let me know.

MCU does not belong to me. I own my OCs and the subplots I put in.

When it comes to flashbacks, they won't be in a linear order. So if you feel as if they're a bit scattered, that's the plan.

Like I said before, constructive criticism where it's necessary.

Thanks a bunch.

Glacia St. Cloud