"May you get to Heaven an hour before the Devil knows you're dead" – John Rooney, Road to Perdition
There were hundreds of them, warm bodies jostling against each other as they moved slowly about the exhibit. Of all the Avengers there was something about him that had captured the public's imagination. Maybe it was because given the choice between super-spies, a giant green monster, a god from another world and a man in an iron suit, you'd always pick the guy who spoke like he stepped out of a Jimmy Stewart movie. There was something wholly reassuring about Steve Rogers
"This must be boring for you Victoria…"
"Sorry Ma'am?"
"Looking after us."
"It's my job Mrs. Wilson."
"Well, I'm sorry we're spending so long here. Tyler's got a little bit of a crush on Captain America."
"Who doesn't?" Victoria deadpanned.
Mrs. Wilson sighed, "What I'd let him do to me. Oh gosh, don't tell Stewart…."
At Mrs. Wilson's confession Victoria's eyebrows shot upwards, before a small smile formed at the corner of her mouth. "I wont tell the Senator - it'll be our little secret."
"You wouldn't – you know – let him do unspeakable things to you? Captain America that is." Mrs. Wilson questioned as she fiddled with the gold pendant that hung around her neck.
"He sure is great to look at Ma'am. But he's too apple pie for me, I'm not sure if he's into 'unspeakable things'."
"So what does it for you then?"
Victoria shrugged, "Butter pecan."
"Oh please don't tell me you like bad boys?"
Victoria laughed, "Maybe I think I can reform them."
"Miller!" A male voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. "Nicorette gum and a black coffee as requested. Man, you are a walking stereotype."
"Thanks Jacobs." Victoria took the proffered coffee gratefully, the hot liquid almost scalding her lips in her haste to drink it.
"Hey Vic!" Tyler yelled, the 10-year-old boy running towards the group of assembled adults.
"Yeah kid?"
"Come on, I want to show you something."
"Sure thing Tyler." Victoria grinned before following the boy into the crowds of milling people.
"I just saw him."
"Who?"
"Him!" Tyler exclaimed, a slightly chubby index finger pointing towards the display in front of them.
"Bucky Barnes?" Victoria questioned. "Kid, he died over fifty years ago."
"But I'm telling you, he was right here. He was reading about growing up in Brooklyn with Captain America – he looked sad."
"Maybe it was his grandson or something."
"Bucky didn't have any surviving relatives."
Victoria sighed, the boy's encyclopedic knowledge of all things Captain America whilst for the most part endearing was proving to be a major pain in the ass.
"Ok, so say you did see James Buchanan Barnes…"
"I did see him." Tyler insisted, rolling his eyes at his protector. "Lets go find him!"
"Find him?" Victoria sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Do you think Mr. Barnes would want to be disturbed when he's clearly having a private day out?" Victoria questioned, doing her best to imitate her third grade teacher Ms. Swanson as she attempted to teach Tyler something about privacy.
"We won't be disturbing him, we'll just say hello." Tyler shot back, his eyes bright.
"Fine," Victoria held her hands up, making a great show of her defeat. "We'll go find him."
Turning around she motioned towards Jacobs, "Tyler and I are going on a wild goose chase."
Having traipsed across several floors of the museum and the search coming up short on all counts, Victoria and Tyler gave up on their hunt for the elusive Bucky Barnes. Yet Tyler continued to insist he'd seen the man until he was blue in the face, tears of frustration threatening to fall as Victoria packed them into the ubiquitous black SUV.
Having handed off to Stevens and Redgrave, Victoria was off the clock, her relief was now tasked with the protection of Senator Wilson and his family. As she did most summer days, Victoria took the scenic walk home. There was something amazing about DC in the twilight. It didn't matter how rough her day had been, it didn't matter if she'd been stuck on babysitting duty. The sunlight reflecting off the water as she stood at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial never ceased to take her breath away.
Pushing herself from off the stone steps Victoria reached into her pocket, her phone alerting her to a call.
"Miller."
"You always answer the phone that way Vic?" An amused voice questioned.
"Force of habit."
"Whatever, you're not on duty at the moment. You gonna come down to the bar?"
Victoria sighed, "I'm pretty beat. I've got to run some errands too but I'll try and make it."
"Well, you know where we'll be."
"Yeah, thanks Mikey."
Victoria tossed the phone into her bag before yanking the strap over her shoulder.
The urge to run straight home, shrug off her suit and lose the Beretta that was snuggly pressed against her body was overwhelming. But the imperative to get new coffee filters was too strong and she soon found herself staring blankly at the magazine stand in a local convenience store.
Various headlines shot out at her, several speculating on just who Captain America was dating. Victoria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Like the guy had the time to date anyone – saving the world was always going to take precedent over a burgeoning romance. Lost in her own thoughts Victoria barely registered the tinkle of the bell as another person stepped off the street into the shop. It was only when a firm arm gripped her round the middle and pulled her to the floor that she was jolted back into the present.
Eyes darting about the store Victoria quickly honed in on the man currently holding a sawn off shotgun to the head of the cashier.
"You need to get out of here…" Victoria whispered to the person who had pulled her to the floor, her eyes barely skimming over her would be rescuer.
"What? And leave you and the girl here?"
Victoria hissed in frustration, a little girl with bright red hair and a Disney magazine pressed to her chest was crouched in the corner next to the fridges. Reaching under her jacket Victoria pulled her gun.
"Capitol Police. Now really, get out of here. The guy's not covering the back entrance."
The man just rolled his brilliant blue eyes before inching forwards.
"Seriously?" Victoria whispered incredulously, her hand stretching out in a vain attempt to pull the man backwards. But her fingers grappled with air, the man was already out of her reach.
In what seemed like the time it took for Victoria to blink the man was standing behind the gunman. What followed was a love letter to perfectly executed violence. His body uncoiled like a steel spring, every limb singing with the quiet hum of deadly force. In one fluid motion he had disarmed the robber, the shotgun clattering uselessly to the floor. Diving for the firearm Victoria hastily removed the shells, her brown eyes still fixed on the event unfolding in front of her.
Her rescuer's next action was brutal, but economical and effective. Grabbing the thief by the back of the neck he smashed the robber's head into the counter top, rendering him unconscious.
"You alright?" Blue eyes questioned the cashier somewhat gruffly; apparently satisfied with the small nod he was given by way of a response. "Call the police."
Sparing a look for the little girl the man shot out of the back entrance. Resisting the urge to run after the guy Victoria moved towards the small child.
"You ok sweetheart?" Victoria asked, dropping to her knees as she coaxed the red head from out of the corner. "Is your…"
The police officer's question was cut off as a woman rushed towards them, "Lacey!"
"Mom," the little girl whimpered before falling into her mother's embrace.
"Wait for the police," Victoria muttered urgently before springing to her feet.
Launching herself into a run Victoria powered towards the back, the door still ajar in the still summer heat. Crashing into the alleyway she saw the man at the top of the road, readying himself to turn onto the main thoroughfare, to become lost amongst the endless human traffic.
"Hey!" Victoria called out, half expecting the man to keep going anyway. But to her surprise his shoulders stiffened, his feet stilled.
"What was that? First I tell you to haul ass but you go all Terminator on the guy and then you run away?"
"What can I say, doll? I'm just not very good at taking orders." The man replied, a hint of a smile ghosting his features as he turned to face Victoria. The strangely flat American accent that TV news anchors favoured was gone, something far more regional in its place. New York? Jersey?
"Doll?" Victoria's eyebrow quirked. "Little antiquated don't you think?"
The man sighed, "Something I… picked up." His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark as he suddenly became lost in a private thought.
Memories of girls with bright red lipstick and victory rolls, wearing dresses that had no place in this century suddenly swam across his vision. The sound of brass and percussion filled his ears, blocking out all other noise. The smell of boot polish and cigarette smoke was overwhelming. He could feel the starched collar around his neck, the creases in his trousers were regulation perfect, and chevrons decorated his arms.
"The police will probably want your statement." Victoria prompted, her hand reaching out to touch him but stopped just a hair's breadth from his left shoulder.
Jerking backwards the man fixed her with an indecipherable look. Images of chorus girls and dance halls were wiped away, the last tremulous notes of a clarinet gone as he suddenly registered there was a flesh and blood woman standing in front of him.
"Right, the cops…" the man's gaze slid from Victoria's face, his eyes gaining a far off quality.
He couldn't focus; he was floundering, sinking under the weight of it all.
The smell and heat of New York was overpowering – intoxicating.
He couldn't shake the sensation that he was on the dancing edge of discovering something, events that he had no recollection of ever remembering before were bubbling to the surface.
He was picking up some wheezy kid, not even 120 pounds soaking wet, full of piss and vinegar. That's what he did; he looked out for Steve, since they were kids. But then he fell. And all that was left was blood and cold gun mental between his fingers. He had skills he had no memory of mastering, languages that he had no chance to learn. All he remembered with any certainty was blood and the Red Room.
Victoria frowned and this time she steeled herself to touch the stranger. Her fingers wrapped around the man's left bicep as she attempted to break through whatever spell he was currently under.
The man stiffened, Victoria's warm fingers were curled loosely around his metal arm. A stark reminder of who he was – a blunt instrument – a weapon to be wielded and used for someone else's purposes.
"Hey, you ok?" Victoria questioned, concern written plainly across her face.
"I…" the man stuttered. "I'm fine."
"You sure? You look a little confused. Maybe you should sit down?" Victoria muttered, leaning towards the man.
Her blonde hair fell forwards, tumbling about her shoulders, haloing her face as the dim street light cast a warm glow about her figure. She smelt of jasmine and mint and for one glorious second he thoughts stilled. Her flushed skin and parted lips calling to a part of him buried beneath layers of programming and cracked memories. Something primal stirred in his chest.
One blonde curl nestled against Victoria's cheek; reaching out with his right hand he released the errant strand of hair.
"What's your name?" Victoria questioned, doing her best to ignore the pink hue that coloured her cheeks.
The man blinked, for a second a look of sheer panic shot through his eyes.
"My name's Victoria Miller," the police officer supplied offering her hand.
"Victoria," the man repeated as he accepted her proffered hand but made no move to speak.
"This is the part where you say, 'Hi my name's Ted.' Or whatever."
Various names span through his head. Countless personalities and covers were presenting themselves. And the urge to scream was overwhelming, what kind of person couldn't tell you their name? His memory was unreliable, faulty, defective.
"Hey, you're zoning out on me again." Victoria muttered softly before she stiffened, a somewhat ugly thought darkening her consciousness. "You're not like Jason Bourne or anything are you?"
"What?"
"Well like I said, you destroyed that guy."
The man shook his head. Before taking a shuddering breath, "It's James."
"What like Madonna, no last name?"
The man shook his head, "Barnes."
"Ok." Victoria nodded before stepping away from James. Fishing in her bag for her phone she quickly pulled out the small piece of technology. "So I think maybe…" The words died on her lips. The guy had gone.
Running a hand through her hair Victoria let out a growl of frustration. Forget Jason Bourne the guy was motherfucking Batman.
It was then that his name suddenly dropped into place. The familiarity of it as it rolled off her tongue. She'd spent a whole goddamned afternoon chasing after the guy and he just falls into her lap.
James Barnes.
James Buchanan Barnes.
"Sonofabitch!"
A/N: First off I was only made aware of US Capitol Police thanks to that rubbish (read amazing) Channing Tatum/Jamie Foxx film and House of Cards (being British, US [federal] law enforcement is somewhat alien to me). I apologise if I have confused what it is that they do. Again, I have virtually no knowledge of firearms so I apologise if a Beretta would not be a standard issued gun.
Now thats out of the way! Hope you enjoyed this and a couple more chapters will be on their way. Please let me know what you think - reviews and thoughts are always appreciated.