Title: Life for me ain't been no crystal stair
Disclaimer: Bucky and Steve aren't mine. Yasmin is. Title from Langston Hughes. Some of the quotes are from either of the Cap movies; some I made up because they seemed like things Bucky might say.
Warnings: implied bad things happening to a child in the past; everything the presence of the Winter Soldier implies; talk of violence/death/roaring rampage of revenge
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 3570
Point of view: third
Prompt: The soldier who-was-once-Bucky-Barnes is struggling to cope with fractured commands and no mission. He knows he wants to be good again but his moral compass is a little bit broken. He needs guidance.
Enter a six-year-old asthmatic Captain America fan with an uncanny resemblance to Steve when he was that age, who suddenly finds him(her?)self in command of an ex-soviet assassin.
Optional Bonus Points:
+10 The kid's name is some variant of Steve. Stephen, Steven, Stevie, Stephanie,Stephie. (Or alternatively Hogarth Hughes)
+100 The "missions" Bucky is sent of are include helping little old ladies cross the road, helping cats out of trees, and tying up little kids' shoelaces.
+1000 What's left of SHIELD catches on but are happy enough to leave things as they are. Unconventional therapy or not.
+10,000 The first meeting with the kid has him dressed up as Captain America fighting off bullies with a bin lid.
Everything else is up to you. I just Iron Giant like feels and the amusement of a six-year-old being in charge of one of the world's most deadly assassins.
He finds her wheezing in the corner and knows that a damp warehouse is no place for a child. How he knows he does not know. But he knows.
He knows. It is… still confounding.
She is wheezing, hunched over, rocking back and forth. She has dark skin and when she looks up at him with terror, he sees her eyes are dark, as well. Her hair is matted and dirty, also dark. Her clothes are stained and torn.
He immediately drops down beside her and murmurs nonsense, pulling her in close. He did this, once. Or something similar. For someone who was small and frail, but still the strongest person he had ever known.
He had known people, once. Before.
Wipe him.
No. No more wipes. No more cold.
The little girl slowly calms, but her breath still sounds wrong. She needs – medicine. What kind?
"Th-thanks," she mumbles into his chest, ear still pressed over his heart.
What kind does not matter. He will get them all.
.
She falls asleep tucked against him and he gently lays her down, wishing he could put his jacket over her but he needs it to hide the not-arm. There is a drugstore five blocks away. He does not know what the girl suffers from. He does not know how medicine has changed – he does not remember what medicine used to be.
(Fuck, but he's useless.)
Libraries contain information. The sun set five hours ago; all libraries are closed.
But the internet – he knows he has heard his various teams complain about the internet. iEverything/i is on the internet.
He must access the internet. How?
The girl coughs in her sleep.
He will find a way.
.
He returns with seven bags of different medications and a stolen "iphone." The girl wakes up as he settles next to her.
"Do you know your illness?" he asks.
To his relief, it is simply garden-variety asthma without any of the complications someone he knew once had. He has more than enough medication for her.
Once she can take a full breath, she holds out a hand. "I'm Yasmin," she says politely.
He stares at her hand for a moment before gently taking it and carefully pumping up and down. "I have no name," he replies.
Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.
"You've gotta have a name," she says, staring at him. "Everyone's got a name."
He shrugs without thinking about it, then pauses, wondering what a shrug means and why he did it. "I have no name," he repeats.
Yasmin climbs to her feet, using his shoulder to steady herself. "I've got stuff over here," she says. "Maybe it'll give us an idea for your name."
She heads further into the corner, towards a collection of things he had thought was just waste. But it is in fact two bags, one a duffle and one a booksack, both stuffed to the brim with pointless items of no strategic value.
"Here!" Yasmin shouts, pulling a tattered bear out of the duffle. "Your name is Bucky, just like Bucky Bear!"
"What," he says.
Who the hell is Bucky?
Yasmin hurries to him, offering the bear. "See?" she says.
He takes the bear carefully because, for whatever reason, it is clearly precious to her. Nothing has ever been precious to him but he has seen others treat things as if they were. The bear is old and worn down, with bare patches on both its belly and one of its feet. Once, it had been brown but now it is more of a gray. It has a mask drawn on its face with what looks like black marker.
"He's not a real Bucky Bear," Yasmin tells him. "But Mama named him Bucky ages ago, back when she was little. He's a good bear."
He nods, offering the bear back. Yasmin gently takes it and wraps her arms around it.
"Do you like the name?" she asks. "Only, you gotta have a name, you know?"
"It will suffice," Bucky says. It is the correct thing to say because Yasmin's face brightens and she straightens up.
"You wanna have cereal?" she asks, turning back to her bags.
Cereal? He takes the small box she holds out and extracts a handful of – grains? crackers? he has no idea what they are. She extracts another handful and they share the box back and forth until it all gone.
Bucky resolves to examine her supplies and ascertain what she needs so that he can restock at the earliest opportunity.
.
Children do not belong in warehouses. Bucky knows this without knowing why. He watches Yasmin pack her bags back up, gently tucking Bucky Bear at the very top of the booksack.
He asks, "Why are you here instead of in a home?" People have homes. He knows this. Whether it be an apartment, a house, or somewhere else – people have homes. Children are people.
Yasmin shrugs her shoulders. "Mama couldn't stay, so she left me with Uncle and I—" She bites down on the words, turning away so that Bucky cannot see her face. "I didn't like living with Uncle," she says. "So I left, just like Mama."
Bucky studies her dirty and worn clothes, her ragged bags. "How long have you been here?" he asks.
She shrugs again. "Awhile."
Bucky is not familiar with children. "Define awhile."
"Like, two days," she says, turning back around. "I walked and walked and walked till I found this place. I took lots of Uncle's food so I'd have enough. I planned it." She sounds very proud of herself.
"May I examine your supplies?" he asks. "It may be time to restock."
She slumps down. "The cereal was it. Only my treasures are left, and you can't eat treasures."
Bucky checks the time on the phone; it is 10:46 in the morning. "We must clean ourselves," he says. "Then we will eat lunch and I will restock your food."
"How?" Yasmin asks, slinging the booksack onto her back.
"That has yet to be determined," he tells her, holding out his hand for the duffle. "Two nights ago, I found a shelter that offers free showers. Follow me."
.
In the rush of the crowd, no one notices Bucky. He is merely one of many. Yasmin garners little attention, as well; she is a clever child and tags along behind a woman guiding multiple children to the area for the younger ones.
Bucky slips into one of the shower stalls and quickly bathes, taking the most care with the arm that is not his. It has been glitching more often but not enough to worry about, yet. He is still formidable enough to defend himself and a child, should the need arise.
Leave him alone or I'll make you, you hear me?
Yasmin is loitering near the snack table when he exits the men's area. She is wearing different clothes: clean blue jeans and a shirt with an American-themed shield on it – Captain America's shield. Her hair is pulled back in a long braid.
"Lunch?" she asks, reaching up for his true hand. "I want McDonald's!"
He has several hundred dollars, taken from the site where he should have waited to be collected. "That is adequate."
.
Yasmin orders herself a chicken nugget Happy Meal while Bucky examines the menu. There are so many options and none of it is appetizing. But the woman at the register is getting impatient (he knows by her eyes) so he finally says, "Number one." Why not? It is as unappealing as the rest.
While Bucky waits near the drink dispenser, Yasmin chooses a table. She settles Bucky Bear into the chair next to her and arranges the napkins on the table in some formation Bucky cannot determine the meaning of. When their order is ready, Bucky grabs the try and carries it over to the table.
He eats. He – does not like it. But he is hungry and he needs to replenish his strength, so he eats both the sandwich and the French fries while Yasmin eats her chicken nuggets and French fries, chattering on about Bucky Bear's adventure at the shelter.
Bucky Bear, it seems, decided to challenge a boy who was hassling a younger girl.
That sounds very familiar.
"Does he do that often?" Bucky asks.
Yasmin nods, setting down her cup of fruit punch. "He's always fightin' bullies," she says. "'cause that's the right thing to do."
The right thing? Bucky dips his last fry in the ketchup and asks, "What are more right things?"
.
Right things, Yasmin says as they shuffle along the sidewalk, are standing up to bullies, not lying unless it's important, not stealing unless you'll go hungry otherwise, being nice to iold/i old people and little kids, and being quiet when Mama asks you to.
Bucky figures he can do all of those things. He asks, "Will doing only right things turn someone into a good person?"
Yasmin considers that for two blocks and then, while they pause to wait for the WALK to light up, she says, "Only good people do right things, so you have to be good if you do them."
That makes sense.
On the other side of the street, a woman shouts as two men run past. Bucky's eyes track them – they will cross at the end of the block, both of them carry weapons, and the woman – he blinks.
The woman has a weapon of her own.
Bucky glances down at Yasmin. "Is one of the right things knowing when not to get involved?" he asks.
She nods seriously.
WALK lights up, so they cross the street.
.
He buys non-perishables with his masters' money. Why he feels some enjoyment from that thought, he does not know. He does not share it with Yasmin.
She demands sweets; he takes even more pleasure from using his masters' money to buy her more chocolate than she can carry.
He knows he is using too much money. He also knows where more is waiting. This evening, while Yasmin sleeps, he will retrieve it.
He purchases clothes for both of them, stronger bags for Yasmin's treasures, a newspaper that has him (masked, the not-arm bare) on the front page, supplies for sustenance. He throws in a packet of hair-ties and a set of eating utensils because he stored most of his weapons with his masters' gear.
They leave the store weighed down with bags and no way to transport them. Bucky glances around the parking lot; he could easily steal a vehicle, but he knows that is not on the list of right things. There had been a section full of bags; Yasmin had chosen two.
There are benches inside, so he guides her to them and tells her to wait with Bucky Bear. He purchases six large cloth bags and returns to Yasmin; they both fill the new bags and then Bucky carries them all, leaving Yasmin only her bags of treasure.
The sun will set soon. The warehouse from last night was faulty; Bucky knows they can find somewhere better.
.
They bed down in a barely-finished house at the edge of a new subdivision. Yasmin demands he tell her a story, tucked into a blanket with Bucky Bear, and Bucky – does not know any stories. He thinks –
"Once," he says, "a long time ago. There was a boy who always did the right thing." That is a good start, yes? Yasmin is listening with hope in her eyes, so Bucky nods firmly and continues, "Even when it was hard, and even on the coldest days, he always set out to do what was good, and so he did." What comes next? "He had a friend who tried to tell him to be careful, to not get into so many fights, but the boy, he never listened."
He pauses, staring down at Yasmin. She frowns at him. "And then?"
"Then," he says. "Then, the boy's friend had to go away. He did not want to but he could not stay."
Where is this coming from?
iDon't do anything stupid 'til I get back.
"There were very bad people halfway around the world and the boy's friend had to fight them. The boy, he, he—" Why is Bucky's voice shaking? His shoulders?
Yasmin's hands touch his. "Hey, it's alright," she's saying softly, leaning in, tucking herself against him. "It's okay, Bucky, it's okay. You want me to tell a story instead?"
He nods, eyes closed. He feels – he does not know. Tired. Worn.
"C'mon, lay down," Yasmin says, pulling at his not-arm. He lets himself fall over, carefully folding himself around Bucky Bear, and Yasmin arranges the blankets around him before wiggling her way into the middle. She wraps Bucky's arms around her, and then her arms around Bucky Bear.
The story she tells sounds familiar, about a princess who was hated by her stepmother and then became lost in the woods, found by seven little men. Yasmin falls asleep before the end, but Bucky is fairly sure (not certain) that it ends with a prince saving the princess. Happily ever after.
What is happily, and what is ever after? He does not know. It sounds nice.
He needs to get up and go to where his masters store their money. But he also wants to keep holding Yasmin, listening to her breathe, feeling her heartbeat.
Want?
He requires the money to keep Yasmin safe and content. That decides the situation for him. He extracts himself from the blankets, making sure to tuck them back tightly around her, and then he leaves.
.
There are five men at the location with the money. He has only a dull knife, meant for food not fighting.
Killing was not on the list of right things. But these men – he does not know them, has never seen their faces. (Would he remember, if he had?)
But. If these men know he has been here, his masters will hunt for him. He knows what will happen if his masters take Yasmin.
At the thought, he feels… angry.
He has only a dull knife. It is sufficient. He returns to Yasmin with over a thousand dollars and a "tablet" that he has downloaded the location's hard-drive onto.
He has a child to care for. He cannot continue on blindly.
Look, stop trying to do everything yourself. I'm here. I'll always be here.
.
They slowly move south. They sleep in different places every night; Bucky arranges their supplies for easier transport. Yasmin explains more about right things and wrong things, and also shows Bucky how tell stories.
They bathe at shelters and once at a pond. Bucky does not let Yasmin see his not-arm. She does not talk about why she left home.
They are, he thinks, happy.
.
In Raleigh, North Carolina, Yasmin asks if they can go see the turtle movie.
"The turtle movie?" Bucky repeats.
She nods excitedly and then rambles about giant talking turtles who are also, somehow, ninjas.
They have no plans for later that day so Bucky takes her to the movie.
.
They see it again the next day. And the one after that.
Every city they pass through, they see another movie. They try new foods. Bucky teaches Yasmin a few self-defense techniques and she shares the books in her treasures.
It is pleasant, this wandering. He enjoys it in a way he cannot remember enjoying anything. And Yasmin is always laughing, smiling, so he knows she finds it pleasing, too.
.
There is much he does not remember. Much he knows without knowing why. When they spend their days at libraries, he researches, trying to put things in their proper places.
I knew him.
James Buchanan Barnes. There are a few biographies that are mostly propaganda and supposition. Barnes died a hero. He grew up with Steve Rogers, the man who became Captain America. He had four sisters (all deceased) and the pictures do not look familiar. He does not recognize the man and woman who were his parents.
Steven Grant Rogers. There are dozens of biographies and they are filled with lies. He knows it without knowing how or why. He skims the books, carefully keeping his not-hand away because he cannot damage library books; that is on the list of right things. Library books are precious.
Howling Commandos.
Hydra.
The day he researches Hydra is a bad day. He can barely tuck Yasmin in, though he promises to return. He is terrified and furious and needs to – needs to – no. He wants to.
He knows where every safehouse and research facility is. He knows his masters' name now. He knows what they did to him, what they stole, what they poured in. Over and over and over. He does not remember but he knows.
Standing up to bullies is always the right thing.
It has been eight months since he dragged Captain America onto the shore and left him there. It has been five months since he found Yasmin. It has been five months since he began tracking his masters, requisitioning their funds for his own use.
Hydra believes their asset to be dead. His body was not found at the site of the failed mission, but the asset could not care for itself, so it has surely crawled away to die of untended-to wounds.
Every agent who knew of the asset's origins is dead. Pierce was the last one left.
He wants – vengeance. He does. He storms into the safehouse, slaughters the two agents hiding there, and destroys the building, and he is still so angry. But he cannot go after Hydra the way his hands long to because he must care for Yasmin.
He - Bucky sterilizes the site. Should anyone investigate, they will determine that two squatters turned on each other. Nothing of value will be missing.
Bucky finds his way to a uninhabited area and lets himself fall to his knees. He kneels there, arm and not-arm wrapped around his middle, breathing so quickly it hurts, eyes squeezed shut.
He does not remember being Bucky Barnes. He wishes he did not remember being the asset. He chokes on the rage, the hatred, the terror, and the horror. He wants to burn everything down until nothing hurts anymore.
He wants to be good. But he will never again be good for Hydra, and he does not want Steve Rogers to say it is pointless to try, as Captain America certainly will if they ever cross paths again. Bucky Barnes had been good, had done the right thing. Bucky as he is now…
He does not know what to do. He knows that he is sobbing and he finally just lets himself scream until his voice is gone. He cannot hunt Hydra. He cannot trust anyone but himself and Yasmin. He stays on his knees until his breath is under control and then he rises.
No more wiping. No more missions. No more pain.
Bucky returns to Yasmin, pulls her to his chest, and holds her till the sun rises.
.
stop please stop please stop I don't stop please stop STEVE where stop please please
.
As they eat their mcgriddles, Bucky says, "Tell me about the right things again."
Yasmin talks about standing up to bullies, about stealing and lying as the last resort, about being nice to kids and grandparents, about listening to Mama. (She mentions her mother less and less as the weeks pass. She never mentions her uncle at all.)
They discard their trash and walk towards a nearby park. Bucky asks, "What do you know about vengeance?"
Yasmin shrugs. "Isn't it a bad thing?" Bucky shrugs in reply so Yasmin ponders it all the way to the park. She drags him to the swings and orders, "Push me!" so they do that for a while.
After Yasmin jumps off the swing and Bucky yells at her for it, they settle side-by-side against a tree and Yasmin says, "Vengeance is hurting somebody for hurting you, right?"
Bucky pulls out his phone to check the internet. "Yes," he says after a moment.
Yasmin nods. "Then it's dangerous. 'cause if you hurt somebody for hurting you, they'll just hurt you back again. You gotta… you gotta get out. Don't hurt 'em back." She shivers a little in the chill autumn air, so Bucky wraps his arm around her, pulling her in close.
As always, Yasmin makes sense.
.
Their plans for the day involve seeing a movie about teenage geniuses and pet robots, so Bucky and Yasmin head to the theater a few hours early; Yasmin enjoys the games in the waiting area and Bucky really likes the hot dogs. While he eats, he researches proverbs on vengeance out of curiosity: proverbs tell a great deal about what people value.
His entire body stills when he reads Living well is the best revenge. He blinks down at the words for a long moment before smiling, bright and wide like he cannot remember doing before.
He will live well. Every day, he will spit into Hydra's face and smirk because he is alive.
Bucky is alive. Their asset has ceased functioning. This shall be his vengeance.
"Bucky!" Yasmin shouts, running over to him and grabbing his arm. "C'mon, race me!" He follows her to one of the racing games and lets himself laugh and be glad because he is free.
