A/N
This is my first fanfic, so please be gentle. I have really no idea what I am doing, I'm just gonna sit back and see what happens. Please leave reviews, it'd help out immensely and tell me if you want more or not.
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel. Old rich men do. I only own my OC Claire.
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Washington D.C, 2014
I wasn't really thinking about the fact I would likely never walk on my right leg again as I stared at the face that haunted me through countless nightmares. It's been so many years since I have seen his face that without the occasional scroll through his old HYDRA files I might've forgotten the beauty behind his stormy blue eyes. And yet as I stared at them before me I still couldn't believe my own. I could somewhat believe the fact that he was standing in front of me; I had heard the rumors spreading around, but I couldn't believe that he'd just shot me three times in my right leg, once in my right shoulder, and one so close to my head my left ear will be missing a decent sized chunk if I survive from this. As darkness slowly sang her horrifying lullaby to me, and questioned my actions on how I even got here, I whispered his name.
"Bucky?"
And I was consumed by darkness.
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Claire's P.O.V
Brooklyn, 1941
I was on the verge of panicking. Okay, I was in the middle of panicking, immensely panicking. I will be over five whole minutes late if I ran to the Expo now. Most other girls like to be 'fashionably late', but I just think it's a wad of useless crap and the world could go without it. It's already 6:13 and I'm supposed to be meeting up with Steve and Bucky at 6:30 at the Expo Center, which without a car or any kind of vehicular transportation, is a 25 minute run for the average Joe. I would've been fine if I didn't have to run home after my stupid, inconvenient morph that subsequently ripped my only good dress to shreds and ruined my hair. If you were wondering what I meant by morph, every week I turn into a giant black wolf-thing that seems to come at the absolute worst of times. No, I am not a werewolf, I am mutant, as my mother liked to put it before she died, I can morph whenever I please, but if I don't for a while, I start to get a little twitchy and *poof*. Ruins my evenings once every week and is a constant struggle to keep a secret.
Now I had to borrow a dress from my neighbor Sarah, who has a wardrobe a little more outgoing than I do, but is luckily my size. And as I stand re-doing my hair once again this evening, I can't help but think that it'd be a lot easier if my mother was still here. When I got the news that she'd been killed in a hit-and-run 5 years ago, I locked myself in my room for three days and sobbed. I'm now stuck with more dirt-broke dad who spends every spare penny on booze, which meant I had to get any job I could at fifteen. Now, two years out of high school, I'm still stuck with my shitty dad at my shitty house with my shitty minimum-wage job down at the Diner. But, at least I have Steve and Bucky, who have saved my ass more times than I like to count. We met about four years ago when I was a Junior and they were Seniors. Since my little, uh, condition, likes to make random appearances, I didn't have many, okay any, friends and was therefore labeled as a freak. So as I was sitting during lunch at my little lone-wolf table, oh, I am funny, I didn't quite expect Steve Rogers to sit with me. We sat in silence for about a minute before I heard, "So what's your name?" come from Steve.
"Claire."
"Claire-?"
"Clairice Sarah Andrews."
"Oh, my mother's name was Sarah."
"Oh."
I still can't believe that I didn't have thousands of friends with my social skills. We ended up talking about The Wizard of Oz, with it just hitting theatres, although neither of us really had the extra money or time to go see it. If you were expecting us to just hit it off as just great 'bosom-buddies', you are mistaken. But don't worry, it's coming. Later that day when I was walking home I saw Steve in an alley just about to get the crap beat out of him by some hot-headed jocks. Now, I also have more strength, speed and stamina being a mutant, so I decided to intervene a little. Let's just say the jocks said they were 'beaten up by a group of guys down by the bar' instead of one six-teen year old girl. When the jocks started cowering away, I met Bucky. He was a Senior with Steve and was pretty popular with most of the girls at my school.
"Hey Buck," Steve started.
"How many times have I told you not to walk down alleys?"
"I'm not a kid, Buck. I can handle myself."
"Yes, as it is so evident. What would you do if I hadn't come when I did? They would've beaten you to a pulp just like last ti-"
"Excuse me, but I don't think it was your intimidation that ran them off." I said, giving a slightly pointed look towards Bucky. "In fact I think they won't be bothering Steve again by the looks on their faces."
"And who are you?"
"Claire."
"…"
"Clairice Sarah Andrews."
"Oh, I, uh, heard about your mom, Jenna. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, everyone was." I muttered under my breath.
"Well, I guess we'll be seein' ya." Bucky said, starting to turn away.
"Yeah, probably not." I said out of earshot.
"Hey, why don't you come with us? It's the least we can do for saving me back there." Steve called.
"Uh, I'm afraid I can't. I have to go start my shift down at the Diner, but feel free to stop by, I can see if I can get you a free piece of pie." I said, walking away. "Until next time!"
And with that, I was off to the Diner for my 'oh so fun' shift. Needles to say, around 7:30, Steve and Bucky came in and sat down right at the middle of the bar. 'I wonder what it took to drag Bucky in here' I thought to myself, 'Well, might as well say hi.'
"Hey, can I get you anything?" I asked.
"I'm, uh, sorry for the way I treated you earlier. I was being a jerk, and I wanted to say thank you for helping Steve." Bucky said.
"Well you didn't call me a freak, so you did better than just about everyone else. Apology accepted. And when I offered that pie I meant it."
There's our little friend moment you were looking for. We ended up talking until closing time, and the next day we all sat together. Neither of them knew what I was, they just knew that sometimes I couldn't hang-out with them. Other than that, we were around each other a lot. All of had it bad at home, so we just helped each other and became great friends. When my father would either kick me out of the house or beat me out of it, I would just go to Steve or Bucky's. They always noticed the cuts and bruises I had, but they knew, and I wasn't going to admit it. I usually ended up at their houses more than at my own, but they didn't mind.
Which brings me back to the present; we were planning on all meeting up at the Stark Expo tonight and witnessing 'the future', which will undoubtedly be Stark, a bunch of showgirls, and an invention that will probably never be fully made. I finally got ready for the second time that night and rushed out the door. And right into a very large man.
"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry, I really should watch where I'm goi-"
"Clairice Sarah Andrews?" the man asked with a thick German accent.
"Uh, yes?" I replied.
"Excellent. Take her." he said.
I felt a needle hit my neck, and everything faded away.
