A/N: Yup, I started another fic. I'll never not have anything to write for anything I'm a fan of. Le Sigh. All my other stories, I'm always working on them, but I update and add to them whenever...I know that's horrible, but yeah, it is what it is I guess.
I started this one, well been a comic book geek forever. Have always loved this 'type' of character. Have always like the Winter Soldier to begin with, so this is just some fun on my part. It's more based in a realm between comics/movies/au. So if that's your cup'oh tea then have a gander.
Disclaimer : This is for fun. I own, Chrissy, that's about it.
Chapter 1 : No good deed goes unpunished.
There's a tight, squeezing feeling in his chest, it hurts to breathe. A pulse drums so loudly behind his eyes and in his ears, he can't focus. It feels like he's underwater, drowning, only he knows he's not. The autumn leaves beneath his hand crunch as he clings to the earth, trying to remain grounded.
It's stupid, he knows it, but he tries to concentrate on his knees that are planted firmly in the wet grass. The feeling is familiar, the knees of his jeans being wet and sticking to his skin. Pushing against a stump, the gears in his left arm slowly hum to life as he tries to push himself to a stand. Unsuccessful, he loses balance and drops down on all fours.
There's a painful bright flash in his minds eye. A memory, of frigid air, snow crunching under his combat boots. The Asset. There's a middle aged man in a torn snow suit a few feet away. He's bloodied and bruised and continues to crawl away from The Asset in the snow covered ground. The man tosses a helmet at his attacker's face, which he easily dodges. A metal hand forms a fist, ready to complete the night's mission. The man cries out in pain.
Another flash, another memory. This time his vision is blurry, there's people walking around The Soldier, no The Asset, in a room he can't quite see. They are speaking in a tongue he doesn't know, but to his surprise he can actually understand . Every word, plain as day. When and how did that happen? Blinking forcefully doesn't help either, he still can't see much.
Uncertain as to how he knows, but The Asset is convinced he's drugged. Eyelids are heavy, wait something warm is running down his side, oh god he's bleeding badly. He whimpers, trying to lift his arms, they're strapped down. Slowly, The Soldier turns his head so that he can inspect his side. Nausea creeps in, he was right. Only, it's worse than what he had originally thought. Had he been shot or hit with a piece of shrapnel, he wasn't sure.
Panicked, the Soldier's eyes dart around the room, is someone going to help him? Why won't they help him? Surely they would if they knew he was going to bleed to death. He tries to speak, ask for help. The only thing he can manage is a muffled growl. Something's in his mouth, he almost gags. The people around him continue to mumble some words to each other, there's a sharp pain in his forearm and the world goes black.
"...listen." The Asset shakes his head, trying to regain his grip on reality. "...you hear me?" A voice, sounds far away.
"One. Breathe. Your name is James Barnes, you're from Brooklyn." A female voice informs. His breathing is still quick and shallow, maybe something hit him in the chest. Like a truck? Why can't he breathe? Jesus Christ.
"Two. Breathe out. Your friends call you Bucky." The leaves make noise under the woman's boots as she takes a few steps closer. Still he struggles to breathe.
"Three. Breathe in, nice and slow. You're at a safe house in Northern Ontario, Canada. That's it." A light touch, her hand is resting on his shoulder, Bucky shrugs it off.
"Four. Breathe out. That's it. It's fall, the year is 2016. You came here three months ago." Her voice is calm and reassuring.
Bucky's breathing is still deep and shaky, but the flashes of pain and visions have stopped. "W-who..." His eyes squint, the face before him doesn't match anything he can remember.
"Christine Meilleur." A small warm smile, a relaxed demeanor. She's done this before, maybe with him. "You came here, to my home, three months ago."
Wait, what's the last thing he can remember? Bucky takes in a deep breath and surveys his surroundings. They're in a a trail, the cool wind blows gently through the trees causing colored leaves to fall from their branches.
Another recollection, this woman smiling up at him. "Chrissy?" That sounds about right as the word rolls off his tongue. She nods and takes a seat on the log he has been gripping onto. Hands in her pockets and scarf around her neck, she sniffles, her nose is pink from the crisp climate. Patience, she's letting him remember, letting him sort it out. A deep voice in the back of his head echoes Risk Of Threat Assessed : Minor.
Another memory, accept there's no flash or pain, only bits and pieces. A man's voice over a cell phone, saying he'll send a list of places Bucky can go to, places that he knows are safe.
Steve, a familiar name, one he trusts.
Another puzzle piece, a dirt road, a long driveway, bugs and animals making their nocturnal noises as he debates knocking on a screen door.
"Steve...he said this was one of the places I could go." Why is his right shoulder trembling?
"That's right. He gave you a few other locations the Avengers use as safe houses or as a place to disappear to for a bit. For some reason, you chose to come here." The wind picks up and she shivers.
"Avengers..." Eyes widen with recognition, his mission. "but...I..." Wait, he remembers something. "I remembered him. Right before they made me forget...I had remembered." A cough escapes Bucky's mouth and his chest is beginning to feel tight again. "He knows I'm here?"
"Yep." Her tongue darts art, wetting her dry lips. "I informed him as soon as you showed up. When you spoke to him before showing up here, you requested that he give you sometime to yourself for now. He agreed..."
"Well he had some words first, and then he agreed." He scoffs, that part remembers.
Again, she nods, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "Yes, but that's his way of showing he cares."
Bucky chews at the corner of his lip. "We were going for a long walk. And now you're cold." Knees still wobbly, he sits down next to her. "I'll be fine in a minute."
"Take your time, no rush." Chrissy's shoulders slouch forward, keeping her body heat to herself. "We'll warm up when we start walking."
After a few deep breaths, Bucky dust of his knees and stands. Adjusting his plaid jacket, he sees Chrissy smile up at him. "Better?"
"Better." He clears his voice and pockets his hands. "We should head back."
Brushing off the chills, the small woman loops an arm in his like it was an everyday normal thing. He looks down at her quizzically. "You should be more cautious. Specially round me."
"Well, the way I see it, if you were gonna do anything, you would of done it by now. Sometimes you forget things, most times you don't. If it's my time to go, well then it's my time to go. Right now, I'm just enjoying the walk."
Bucky sighs, his focus now back on the trail. As they continue their trek back to the little hobby farm, Chrissy can feel that he's still not at ease. His ears are scanning noises for possible foot steps or anything mechanical. Eyes trained to miss nothing continue to search for unknown threats.
"You know..." Chrissy's voice shakes him from his paranoia, briefly. Well, it's not really paranoia, it's mostly old habits, training and well alright, maybe he's a bit paranoid. "You're not the scariest person I've been around. Remember." She giggles lightly.
He mulls over this statement for a moment. A memory of him asking about some of the people in the pictures on the walls. First, he had pointed to one man, an unfamiliar face. Chrissy's smile had faded a bit at that one. Then there was one of Steve and another. She had brightened again as she told him stories to go along with the framed photos. Tony and a man named Clint in another, and then Bucky found one, a scruff man, he was positive he'd seen him before.
"Logan." Chrissy had told him some stories about the wild Canadian man. Bucky and Steve were old, but Logan, was older. Finally, he's starting to remember the past few months.
"Logan." Chrissy repeats. "You can be scary," She admits outright. "But he's worse."
This revelation does something weird to his stomach. Is it the fact that there's someone more vile than him out there, or is it the fact that he had a twinge of jealousy knowing she found this other man more intimidating. You're loosing it Barnes.
Letting a small grunt form in his chest, Bucky's arm flexes instinctively.
Chrissy smirks. "Apples and oranges here, Buck." She hits him with her hip. "That's like comparing two really big bears to a box of kittens."
"Are you saying I'm a kitten?" He's officially annoyed now.
Chuckling loudly, Chrissy slaps his forearm with her free hand. "No I'm saying, you are both big, scary, bad asses and I'm comparing you both to the rest of the world." She tucks her hand back into her coat pocket. "Two different bears, but bears none the less."
"So who would you classify as a kitten?" Bucky tries to keep his tone and face serious, but can't help the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Thor. Definitely." A grin appears on her face. Bucky looks at her puzzled. "Albeit, a very powerful, beer drinking, kitten. But he's not someone I would classify as scary. Well unless you hurt someone he cares about or you're his enemy."
"I think we need to work on how you assess your targets...I mean..." His face blanches. "Jesus...I meant..." He stops walking and hangs his head, ashamed. Why does his brain always go there. Damn-it.
"I know what you meant Bucky, it's alright."
"Don't tell Kitten Thor about that, alright?" He tries for humor.
He succeeds. "Alright. Lets go get warm." She tugs at his arm and they continue their small hike.
Three and a half months ago
"Look, you're nervous. You have plenty of reason to be." A steady voice on the other end of a stolen cell phone tries to sound convincing. "But we can help..."
Bucky knows the other man means well, but the idea that he'd be staying with a bunch of people that he had tried to kill is not very comforting. Who could blame them if they held any grudges. Alright, it's been a year or so, maybe they understand why he did what he did. Maybe they're over it.
Maybe.
Maybe, they're not.
That's not who he is anymore. That's not what he does anymore.
Could they understand that? Steve seems to.
Then there's the what ifs. What if Hydra has some other undercover agent, some spy, just waiting for him to return. Waiting for the right moment to make this sleeper agent active again. He can't risk it. Bucky knows his mind is to frail, does that make him less of a man for admitting in? No. He catches a glimpse of his left hand out of the corner of his eye. But that does.
"I can't." An answer, low but firm.
"Then why did you call? Come on Buck." He knows the man's desperate. Rogers just wants his buddy back, but that man doesn't exist anymore. "Are you alright? Are you injured?" There's a pause. "Did you hurt anyone."
"No. I don't do that anymore." He replies gruffly.
"Alright." Bucky can hear the Captain clear his throat. "Look, I'm going to send you a list of a few places-"
Bucky's irritated with the man's persistence, but he remains silent.
"-they're out of reach. Some off grid. Places the Avengers use as safe houses and get-a-ways. You should be getting them now."
There's a beep as the phone he's borrowing receives a text message. Bucky runs his tongue along his teeth. "How do I know you or...your team won't come looking for me?"
"Because you asked me not to, Buck." Steve lets out a long breath. "You're not alone, pal. Look, just...just take care of yourself alright?"
Silence.
"And, if you need something, anything...just...you know how to reach me."
With nothing more needing to be said, Bucky ends the call, writes down the addresses Steve sent and then crushes the phone. He tosses the broken device, and stares at the piece of paper in his hand. Most of these places are all over the world, three of them are in North America.
Seeing as he's still in Minnesota, he sighs, knowing that where he's now headed is going to be real damn cold in a few months.
It's been a long two weeks of hitch hiking and walking. So much walking. Bucky will never understand how there's just so much forest and space here and barely any sign of civilization. The dirt road is dry and dusty, with each step he takes a small sand cloud follows. Not to mention it's hot. Wasn't Canada suppose to be cooler?
Pressing on in the dark, he finally makes it to an arched gate at the end of a terribly long drive way. "Fox Tail Farm?" He raises a brow as he walks under the sign and continues pressing forward.
The sounds of horses settling in the barn, frogs by the lake and a dog barking. He's nervous. Bucky stops midway up the driveway, debating if this was a bad idea. Maybe he got the wrong place. Maybe he'll be turned away.
Blue eyes look back down the driveway to the road. No, he traveled all this way. Just a few more steps. The dog's barking becomes rambunctious. That's it, up the stairs, now knock on the door you god damn coward. A screen door is the only thing stopping him from entering this house? How safe can this place be? Somehow he just knows this tiny door isn't even locked, and it looks like the only security is a dog, who's wagging his tail happily.
"Can I help you?" A woman comes to the door, smiling. "You must be lost if you're out here at this time of night."
A bit shocked by her lack of self-preservation, Bucky shakes his head lightly and clears his throat. "I was given this address..." He presents the scrap piece of paper.
The woman opens the door, while sipping her tea and takes the paper. The dog, a retriever, pads around their feet, panting cheerfully.
"Is it really safe for you to just be opening your door to strangers? Shouldn't you be sending me away or something?" Honestly, he's a bit concerned.
"Why? You planning on doing something I should be worried about?" She asks with a smile.
"Uh, well no...it's just..." What's wrong with this woman?
She returns the paper to Bucky's gloved hand.. "You must be American." She laughs, he remains silent. Why is that funny? Could he really still be considered American? "Canadians, not so much about locking their doors and turning people away. Specially this far north. Chances are, you come knocking on my door, it's because I either know you, or you need help of some sort."
The strange man before her bites the inside of his lip, he's uneasy.
"And since I don't remember seeing your face..." She winks in his direction. "What can I do for you? Need to call someone?"
"No, no. I...I'm..." He lets out a small breath. "I was told this was a place I could come...if..." Why can't he just spit out the words? He's never usually this awkward, is he? How would he really know. Sure he avoided people, but that didn't mean he couldn't verbally express anything. Or maybe...maybe he's just embarrassed, ashamed of who or what he has been all these years. Even if it wasn't really his choice.
"Ahhh." The woman nods, seeming to finally understand what he's getting at. "Steve?"
"Steve." He sighs, relieved and lets a small thin smile appear. "Yes."
"Come in." The woman moves aside and gestures with her chin for him to make his way into her home.
"You sure?" Bucky shifts his bag on his shoulder.
With an amused exhale, she ushers him in. "I got an email about two weeks ago saying that one of our spots might be getting a new guest. Don't know why you chose to come all the way up here."
The tired man shrugs his shoulders as he takes a few steps into the home. "It's far from everything."
"That it is." The dark-haired woman lets the dog back in as well and places her mug on one of the end tables. She lifts her hand in his direction. "I'm Christine Meilleur, but you can call me Chrissy. And that big boy over there is Jake. You must be James Barnes."
He takes her small hand in his and shake it's lightly. "Bucky."
"Bucky. Alright." Chrissy resumes sipping her tea. "Well, you must be exhausted. I'll show you to your room, but I have a few conditions in order for you to stay here."
Blue eyes are wandering the room, but now that she needs his attention, she has it. "I grew up old school here, so there's no hats on in my home, and no shoes on your feet when you leave the foyer. You're not here to work, but if you want to, hell I won't stop you. Anything you need, you let me know. It's all paid for, I can explain all that in the morning. I'll show you around the property tomorrow as well."
Bucky can't help but smirk. "Alright, I can live with that. Honestly, I thought you were going to tell me to stay in the barn."
"Well, you could, it's your choice." Chrissy giggles. "There's only one thing I want in return."
Patiently Bucky waits for this small woman to continue.
"Is there anything you need to tell me? Anything I should know?" She can see Bucky become a little unnerved. "Steve already had the Avengers send a file on...your past. That's not what I'm concerned about." Her eyes soften, she places her cup on the table again, makes her way towards him and rests a gentle hand on his forearm.
"Are you injured? Or hungry? Things of that nature. Is there anything you need right now?"
Bucky's eyes widen, why would she care.
"Listen, I'm not here to judge or to make your stay uncomfortable. I just want you to feel safe and welcomed. Alright?" Her grip tightens slightly as she waits for his response.
Kindness. Strange. Something he's not really accustomed to. Bucky lowers his gaze, unable to look at her, and nods his. "I... Sometimes-" Is he really saying this out loud? "-I forget things. Or I have episodes where I remember things..." How's he suppose to explain this?
"Alright. We can work with that." A quick affirmation, one he's not sure she can totally grasp. "Now, I bet you're looking forward to a hot shower and a nice bed."
After he'd removed his shoes, Chrissy had shown him to his room. It's not massive, but it's not small either. There's a decent sized bed, a bathroom, some shelves, a dresser, a desk and a closet.
"The bathroom's fully supplied. There's extra linen and supplies in the closet down the hall. When I was informed you might be coming, I ordered some clothes that should fit you. That's all in the dresser." She wipes her hands on her hips and places them in her back pockets.
"I..." His eyes look around the room, he can't help it, it's all the years of training, all he knows. "Thanks."
"No problem. My room is at the end of the hall, if you need anything, just let me know. Oh and if you want to browse around the house, feel free to do so."
Bucky feels out of place. His hands continue to grip the backpack on his shoulder even after she leaves. Blue eyes continue to scan the room. Oh he'll browse around the house alright. Every window, exit and loose floor board. He'll assess everything. For some reason, he assumes that this woman is well aware of this.
After Chrissy falls asleep, Bucky investigates the entire house. From the rooms on the second floor all the way down to the basement. Curiosity now satiated. However, his mind is still not one hundred percent positive that everything here is as it seems. There's a strange panel by every door and in every bedroom, one in the kitchen, the living room and one in the basement. Is he safe? Enough for the time being at least.
Quietly, he unpacks what little possessions he owns and takes a well deserved and long awaited hot shower. Bucky checks the dresser and is surprised to see that all of the clothing looks like it might actually fit him. He puts on a pair of light pants and allows himself to collapse onto the soft bed.
But he won't sleep, only relax.
There's no way he'll be sleeping here, at least not for a little while, not until he absolutely sure it's safe.
The next morning, Chrissy shows him around the house. Positive he's already inspected the place top to bottom, but she's prefers to go over everything, and she figures that Bucky probably appreciates the courtesy.
"I've noticed these panels all over the place." Bucky gestures with his thumb to the clear tile on the wall in the living room by the door.
"Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me." Chrissy places her hand over the square and it lights up and scans her palm. "I'll have to get you set up with this. It's Tony's design."
"Mrs Meilleur please commence the setup for our new house guest." A robotic female voice with a french accent is heard.
"What the hell is that?" Bucky looks at her hand still pressed against the wall.
"This is our security system of sorts, Charlotte." Chrissy explains. "I have to get your palm print registered, she'll also take a quick blood sample from you at the same time. Charlotte just needs to catalogue you into the system so that you can cross areas where there are electromagnetic fields and places where the security grid ends on the property."
Bucky is looking more and more uncomfortable with this idea. He knew something was different about this 'farm'.
"I just don't want her deeming you a threat. If she does, her defense systems will get activated, and that's never good. The only reason she didn't do anything to you last night was because Jake saw you coming down the drive way and I told her to stand down."
Bucky's shoulders slump forward, defeated. "Ah...alright." Chrissy moves aside and allows Bucky to press his hand against the panel.
"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky. Thank you James or would you prefer I call you Bucky?"
Bucky's eyes search the room, trying to determine where exactly the voice is coming from. "Uhh...Bucky is fine. Oww."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Bucky. I have everything required to admit you to my data base."
"Sure thing..." Bucky is really not sure if he likes or trusts this Charlotte. He places his thumb in his mouth. "Jeez..." He shakes his hand.
"Oh please." Chrissy rolls her eyes. "Alright, time for a urine sample." Chrissy receives a steely glare from Bucky. "I'm joking Bucky lighten up."
"You're not funny." He says a little too flatly.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm hilarious." Chrissy makes he way to the kitchen. "Coffee?"
"Sure." Bucky follows suit, while scanning the room over yet again.
"So like I said last night. Anything you need, let me know. Your stay is being covered by The Avengers."
"Right. Good way for the Government to keep tabs on me at all times." Ridiculous, Bucky starts to think maybe coming here was a bad idea.
Chrissy hands him a hot mug of coffee. "Do you blame them?" It's not meant to be rude or insulting, only a proclamation, doesn't mean she agrees with it.
"No. I deserve much worse." He begins chewing the inside of his cheek.
"It's more of a token of good faith. Sure, they get to keep tabs on you a bit, but they're staying out of your way and no one is coming here to haul you off to some horrible punishment." She adds cream and sugar to her own coffee. "They monitor the surrounding area and make sure no one else is trying to drag you away either. Seems like a pretty good deal considering..."
The fact that the rest of the world's Governments probably want you locked up or worse. Is what he knows she leaves out on purpose.
Bucky contemplates her words more carefully. "They're trying to recruit me." A statement, not a question.
"Well they're hoping that with time, maybe you'll want to help them out in return." Chrissy blows over the hot liquid in her cup. "No one is going to force you to do anything you don't want to."
"What do you get out of all this?" Even he finds the way he said that to be a bit harsh, but he doesn't let it show across his features.
"Me?" Chrissy exhales. "A decent paycheck, a handful of good friends, and every once and a while some company."
"So they're alright with dumping someone like me into your home." Bucky tilts his head back grinning, he can't believe these people, or Steve. This woman, is just, well a woman. What would she be able to do against...don't think like that.
"I've dealt with... similar cases." She grins, knowing full well what must be going through his mind. "I was made aware of your history. I was given the option to turn you down."
"And you didn't?" Bucky sips his beverage, while thinking this lady is completely mad.
"Steve trusts you, he believes in you. That's good enough for me."
A few days pass and the two of them start to form somewhat of a routine. Chrissy wakes every morning at 6:00 am, only to find that her new house guest is already up. Bucky's usually busy at this time, chopping wood, which she had told him is not necessary, mostly because she has a splitter. At the rate he's going she's going to have enough to last three winters. Chrissy figures that maybe, it's not such a bad idea, it's probably a good way for him to release some stress or pent up anger.
She makes breakfast and they eat while Charlotte plays the news, which never has anything important to announce. Normally after that, Chrissy would have usually fed the animals and get things around the farm done. Now things are different, after learning how everything worked and the daily routine, Bucky started taking over most of her chores, insisting it made him feel like he was contributing.
Now, with more time on her hands, Chrissy is able to catch up on all the paper work that needs to be kept track of. Not to mention go through files and submit reports that the Avengers request from her on a regular weekly basis.
A few weeks after Bucky's arrival go by, and Chrissy begins to notice a few things. The shadows under his eyes are darker, his energy levels seem to be dipping and every now and then she catches him leaning up against a wall or a tree, clutching his chest. Every time he waves her off, assuring her it's nothing to worry about, but she knows better.
It's early morning, Chrissy heads to the barn to brush one of the horses, she finds Bucky near the old red tractor, kneeling with his head in his hands, clutching his hair. He's grunting and his shoulders are pulled up, he's in pain. Dropping everything in her hands, Chrissy rushes up next to him. "Bucky, hey are you alright?" She kneels down in the dirt beside him, grabbing hold of his shoulder.
Briskly, the man pushes her aside. "Don't...don't touch me." He whispers a bit frantically.
Thinking maybe she'd done something to cause him more discomfort, Chrissy backs up slowly. "Tell me what you need." Her voice is calm and steady.
Bucky's head turns towards her, his moist blue eyes look like they are full of fear and regret. That's when Chrissy realizes something.
"Where am I? Did I hurt anyone?"
He's not frightened of something, Bucky's afraid of what he might have done. She sees his eyes scan their surroundings. Confusion. Bucky pushes his brown hair back, his gaze lands on her form, his lip is trembling. He really thinks he's done something horrible.
Stunned by his questions, Chrissy shakes her head. "What? No. You're at a safe house, in Canada. You've been here a few weeks." She remains still, fearing any sudden movement might spook him.
Bucky wipes the sweat from his brow. "You're sure I didn't hurt anyone?" He sounds unconvinced. "Usually, when I forget things, people get hurt or...killed." The last word is almost a whisper as it's dragged out between his grinding teeth. In an effort to ease the pain in his head, Bucky places a palm at his temple.
Chrissy takes a few cautious steps towards the exhausted man. "I'm sure Bucky." She clears her throat. "Do you remember me?"
"Your face...not you're name." Bucky sighs at this confession. He's too drained to try and figure out if she's actually trying to help him or if she's...one of them.
"Come on, lets get you inside, maybe you just need some rest." She holds out her hand, which he doesn't accept. Although, Bucky does rise on his shaky legs and makes his way towards her. Chrissy places a hand on his back and the other on his arm, hoping to show support and comfort.
"It'll come back to me...the last few days. Just takes a few minutes." He admits, apologetically. This part he's all too familiar with.
"Don't worry about it. I know you haven't been sleeping, at all. So maybe it's time you get some actual rest." Chrissy offers him a worried smile, he nods in agreement. "I'll go with you upstairs, make sure you don't need anything, but then you have to promise me that you'll sleep, ok?" Again, a slight nod from him is all she receives. "I promise, you're safe here."
That afternoon, she decides to get some canning, preserves and baking done. While she's cutting up the strawberries for the jam, Bucky makes his way down the stairs to the main floor.
"Feel better now that you are rested and cleaned up? You were pretty out of it and dirty." She teases while glancing over her shoulder in Bucky's direction.
"Well, that's what I get for trying to fix that hunk of metal." His eyes glare out the large window at the old tractor sitting in front of the barn.
"I warned you before, it's stubborn. Reminds me of someone." Chrissy clears her throat and smiles to herself.
Bucky tries to hide his smirk and begins wandering down the main hall. "You sure have a lot of pictures." The photos are everywhere, the walls, the shelves. His right hand traces the edge of a large photo of Steve and Tony sitting by a fire.
Wiping her hands with a dish towel, Chrissy makes her way towards him. "Lots of good times. Lots of great memories." She smiles fondly at her wall of nostalgia and rests her hands on her hips. "That's a nice one. They were both quiet for once, just sitting there enjoying doing absolutely nothing. Didn't even notice me snap a picture."
"Did they come here a lot?" He continues looking at the same photo.
Chrissy nods, even though Bucky can't see her. "Yeah. Still do. Just... not recently."
He knows she's referring to the request he made of Steve.
"But they will come back eventually. Always do." Her eyes land on a picture of The Captain and Nat, sitting at the end of a dock while Clint tosses a stick for Jake. "That was another great time, Clint had worked on that same tractor all day. Steve and Nat had went horse back riding. Turns out, they're not much for horses." She scoffs.
"Who's this?" Bucky asks with genuine interest as he picks up a worn, white wooden frame. The man in the photo is leaning against an old Chevy truck, a beer in his hand, smiling down at Chrissy who's playing with what he assumes is Jake as a puppy.
When he doesn't receive an answer, he turns to see Chrissy looking a bit somber. "That's..." She swallows a lump in her throat. "Connor. He's...was, my husband. He died a week after that photo."
"I'm sorry." Why is his heart beating oddly? When was the last time he cared if someone was in distress?
"Ah..." She crosses her arms. "I'm fine, just still a bit of a sore spot there, you know? It's been five years now."
"How..." He finds himself asking. Jesus, you just can't help yourself can you Barnes.
"Oh. Uhm. A car crash." Her hands slide into her back pockets. "We were helping the Avengers then too." Chrissy smiles fondly at her memory from long ago.
"Connor used to work in the military years ago, then the Government offered him this job. We'd be able to help people with special abilities. We would also help the ones that needed to surpass the traumas they'd survived." Chrissy's eyes drift to Bucky, and he feels put on the spot a bit. "He wanted to be part of it, so did I."
She makes her way back to the kitchen and starts dropping the berries into the pot. Bucky takes a seat a the table, watching as she continues to make the preserves. "Anyways, one night we were on our way back home, we had just dropped off one of our new guests at the air port. Road to recovery." She snickers at this thought.
"It was cold and snowing. For some reason I decided to bring Jake with us, he was my early anniversary present from Connor and I didn't want the poor puppy at home alone." Chrissy begins sorting all of the other ingredients she needs. "It was dark, but even from the road we could see the flames and smoke coming over the trees. Somehow, the house had caught fire. So, I get on my cell and I call the fire station. As soon as I hang up, we hit a patch of glare ice, skid and go over the road rails. When I woke up, Jake was whining and wandering around in the snow, I don't know how he survived."
Placing the measured ingredients on the counter, Chrissy turns to face Bucky. "My vision was a bit blurry, but I could see Connor." She shakes her head lightly, trying to force the vile images from her mind. "He'd been on the side of the car that had hit the rocks edge, he was unrecognizable at that point." Chrissy can feel the threat of tears sting at the corner of her eyes. "I was hurt pretty bad and probably would have died as well had Steve and the others not showed up when they did."
Remembering Connor and how horribly he must have suffered while she was out, Chrissy feels a few tears make their way down her cheek. Quickly she wipes her face with the back of her hand. "Jesus, I'm sorry. That was a downer."
"It's alright." Quickly, Bucky rises from his chair. "Come here." He hushes, and wraps his arms around her, allowing Chrissy to cling to his frame and bury her face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault." Chrissy pushes away from him gently. "But thanks for caring."
Bucky's mouth forms a thin line as he nods. Then he pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Is that what that was? Did he care that she was upset? Or was he just doing what he thought one should do in a situation such as that? Instincts? These are questions he'd have to reanalyze later on.
"Anyways, once I was recovered, Steve and Nat brought me back here. The house had been totally rebuilt, with a few of Tony's touches. The only thing I have left from my time with Connor is that picture and that frame, which is made from pieces of the old house."
"And Jake." Bucky reminds her. Hearing his name, the dog pads over lightly and pushes his head against Bucky's thigh. Receiving a scratch behind the ears, Jake pants thoughtfully.
"Yes, how could I forget Jake." Chrissy's smile brightens. "My big bad guard dog."
Bucky chuckles at the thought of this dog being anything other then loving. "Yes, I was shaking with fear the first time I meant him." A towel is tossed in his face.
"Alright, you boys go on, this woman has work to do." She watches as Jake and his new friend make their way outside to roam the fields.
After dinner, Chrissy does the dishes, not letting Bucky help. She pushes him from her kitchen and begins cleaning while humming a Johnny Cash song. Sipping at his iced tea, Bucky wanders back to the photos. For some reason, he likes looking at all these mementos. Black and white, colored and sepia tones. Every once and a while, he'd see a picture of Steve and he'd get a flash. Not a full fledged memory, but more of a corner of it. A smile, a laugh, a smell.
Sometimes, when Bucky would look at a picture of Natasha or of other people he didn't quite recognize, he'd get the same thing, and he wasn't quite sure why. Then as he's wrestling with that thought, Bucky's attention lands on the photo of someone he gets the impression he knows. "Who's this?" He asks while handing Chrissy the frame.
"Does he seem familiar to you?" She asks, waiting for his reaction.
"I'm not sure." He shrugs his shoulders. "Sometimes, I get this sense...as if I just know I know something. I can't really explain it."
Chrissy licks her lips and smiles. "This is Logan." She hands the picture back to Bucky. "He was the one me and Connor drove to the airport that night..." She trails off and clears her throat. "Anyways, you two have a few things in common actually."
Intrigued Bucky looks at the photo again. "As in."
"Well you both came here seeking refuge. You're both old."
"Hey!" Bucky scoffs at her cheap shot.
Chrissy shrugs her shoulders. "Well, he's much older. You both had some branch of a Government make you into their weapons. Logan, he was submitted to tortures and had his memory erased as well. He too was forced to do unspeakable things." Chrissy rinses some plates and places them in the dish rack. "He was brought here. The only thing he could tell us was his name. He'd wake up at night, screaming or worse..."
Chrissy sighs. "He ruined countless sheets and almost killed Connor a few times. But in the end, he found some sort of peace."
Hopeful, Bucky asks the question he hopes she'll be able to answer. "Did he ever...remember, you know, his life?"
She folds the dish towel and places it on the table. Chrissy's face and eyes are full of compassion, she takes his right hand in hers. "No, I'm afraid not. Not all of it. His mind was too damaged."
Bucky feels his shoulders drop, deflated. "I see."
"Listen Bucky, that's not to say you won't. But, you also may never remember everything." Bucky seems to be getting discouraged.
Chrissy tightens her grip on his hand. "I understand that's frustrating. Even if you end up remembering, there's nothing to say that you'll even be the same as you were before this." She places her free hand on his metal forearm. "I know you just want to remember your life, Steve, your family. Maybe by remembering all of that you can be that man again. But in reality you're not. Maybe you never will be. You had your life and choices torn away from you and were forced to do unimaginable things."
Bucky stands a little stiffer and lets out a shaky breath. "You're not under anyone's control now. Your life is your own. You are and can continue to be a good man. I know that you feel like your hands are drenched in blood, and that maybe you're not worth saving. But it's the choices you make when given the option to that do and will matter."
"I don't know what the authorities will say about that." Bucky snickers.
"Steve will help you, the Avengers will help you. You just need to let them. And for what it's worth I believe in you." Pushing to stand on the tips of her toes, Chrissy places feather light kiss on his cheek.
Bucky nods, biting his lip. "Thanks."
"Now, get out of my kitchen." Chrissy grabs the dirty pots and begins scrubbing them. "And put that picture back where you found it." She giggles.
"Yes mom!"
There it is again, what the hell is that noise? A tapping? No a ticking. His hearing seems to be playing tricks on him, because it almost sounds like ice cracking and thawing. There's mumbling, someone's trying to talk to him or trying to talk to someone near him. Is he under water, because that's what it sounds like. More muttering, a bright light is flashed in each of his eyes that are being forced open. There's a second voice speaking, he can't focus on what it is they are saying. The Soldier can feel his body trembling, he's freezing. Why does he feel so weak?
The Soldier shuts his eyes for a second, trying to adjust to the lighting in this musty smelling room. When he opens his eyes next, he's being strapped into a chair. What's going on, is what he wants to say, but all he can muster is a few groans. Someone is forcing his head back, he doesn't have the strength to fight them off. As his eyes try to identify the people doing this, his face is covered by some sort of machine. This is wrong. This doesn't feel right. These people aren't helping him.
God, he just knows this is going to be painful.
A knock at his door wakes him from, well, from whatever hell that was. Bucky's knees give out beneath him when he tries to stand and make his way to the door. There's a crash when he hits the floor, having a metal arm makes it sound louder and a lot worse than what it actually is.
"Bucky!" No longer waiting for him to respond, Chrissy pushes the door open and turns on a lamp. She finds Bucky slowly lifting himself off the floor.
"I'm fine." He lies and he's horrible at it. Some spy.
"Right." Chrissy can see that he's shaking. Skin, icy to the touch when she grabs a hold of his arm to help him get back up. "You're cold." She finds the spare blanket at the end of his bed and wraps it around his upper body.
"No, I'm fine. Really." Bucky huffs as he sits at the edge of the bed.
"Uh huh, right. I've touched frozen lakes warmer then you." She sits next to him and starts rubbing his arms, forgetting all about his metal prosthetic. "What happened? You wanna tell me? It might help."
Bucky exhales softly. "I think...I think, I was dreaming...it was one of the first times they woke me up. I was freezing and couldn't figure out why. Then, they were prepping me for all the other usual stuff. I was just so panicked and they wouldn't stop..." He stares off into an abyss of nothing.
"You mean a nightmare." Chrissy sighs. She can't begin to conceive the amount of torture and pain this man must have went through, all alone, over and over, for years. Instantly, she blinks back a few tears she knows are creeping up on her. "Is there anything else you can remember?" She's not sure she wants to hear more, but if it'll help him...
"Yeah...I just...I can't." Bucky doesn't want to have to verbally admit to those things out loud, because then that makes them real, then they really happened and that's worse then just remembering.
"Hey, it's alright. You don't have to, but I'm here if you ever need to talk to someone and Steve is just a phone call away, ok?" She sees him think this over and nod. How she wants to brush his hair back behind his ears and tell him that everything will be alright, but Chrissy figures that's a boundary not meant to be broken just yet. Besides, everything will be alright? How could she possibly guarantee that?
With a look of defeat set in his eyes, Bucky looks up at her. Chrissy knows he wants to say thanks, but settles for a distraught grin. Not a man of many words, but his eyes can say most of what he wants to convey. At this point, Chrissy's kind of at a loss as to what she should do. Should she stay here and continue to just sit silently with him, hoping that will be suffice to ease his mind. Or should she bid him good night, maybe he wants to be left alone. Should she ask? What exactly is proper protocol here?
Chrissy opts to stay as long as Bucky needs. When she becomes a nuisance, he'll let her know. "Did you want me to make you something warm to drink?"
Bucky declines, shaking his head and again he shivers.
"How about you lie back down. I'll get you another blanket." He doesn't fuss or appose. Chrissy moves out of the way and goes to the hall closet to obtain another comforter. When she returns, he's curled up on his side, fast asleep. Careful not to disrupt him, she places the extra blanket over his sleeping form. Deciding to give him a few minutes before she leaves, Chrissy takes a seat in the sofa chair. Pulling her knees up to her chin and holding her ankles, she listens as his breathing becomes heavy with sleep and relaxation.
Eyelids are heavy, she shakes herself from her fatigue, just a few minutes she tells herself, then she'll make her way back to her bed. How horrible would she feel if he were to have another episode right after she left. Just a few more minutes, she yawns.
Did he really sleep for most of the night? That's a first in, well...What time is it? Bucky checks his clock. 5:00 AM stares back at him in angry bright green. Alright, half the night, still a first in God knows how long. He pushes off the three large blankets and is just about to stand when he hears a small noise.
Chrissy is asleep, in the chair near his dresser. If he really wanted to, Bucky could leave the room without making a noise. Assassin training, espionage training, he was taught to be invisible in plain sight. As Bucky is about to leave her there, maybe just cover her with a sheet, something tugs at his, well he doesn't know, at his something and it makes him feel bad. He rolls his eyes and then shuts them, silently cursing at himself.
Gently Bucky lifts her, cradling her small frame against his own, he then heads for Chrissy's room. As if sensing someone is moving around the home, Jake comes barrelling up the stairs, excited, hoping someone is about to feed him or let him outside. Bucky knows that Jake has no spy training, only a keen sense for really bad timing.
Like the time they were outside and Bucky was lying on the ground underneath the tractor, trying to get it going again, Jake wanted to play fetch and Bucky was ignoring him. Rude. That was the wrong thing to do. One of Jake's favorite things to play with is tools for some odd reason, and on that day he was favoring a hammer. Not wanting to be ignored, Jake had dropped the tool right on Bucky, well right on Bucky's crotch to be exact.
Remembering this, Bucky tries to signal Jake to be quiet. With a bit of luck, Jake ceases his movements and sits right away. 'Good Boy' Bucky mouths towards the frisky dog. 'Stay' He hopes his brow is delivering a stern warning. 'Stay'. Bucky uses his finger between Chrissy's shoulder blades and points at Jake.
Not wanting to turn his back on the retriever, Bucky quietly backs his way into Chrissy's room. Every step, every distance in this house has been catalogued in his brain. He knows how many steps it will take him to get from the door to the bed. Suddenly, he realizes that might be something someone may consider a bit, creepy. He makes a mental note to not inform anyone of this knowledge. But with the way his brain works, he'll be lucky if he remembers what he did Monday.
Feeling confident that Jake will remain in the hall, Bucky turns around when he reaches the bed. Delicately, he deposits Chrissy's sleeping form and wraps her with the bedding. He's just about to close the door when Jake barks, loudly. Bucky winces, damn dog.
"Bucky?" Chrissy sits up, rubbing her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Early, you should sleep." As she lies back down, Bucky shuts the door and walks towards the dog. 'Bad' he mouths while pointing at Jake, who's wagging his tail happily.
Bucky heads down the stairs, when he reaches the bottom he hears a low whine. Lowering his head, he sighs and pats his thigh. "Come on."
The canine's nails make scratching noise as he quickly descends the stairs, panting and rushing to be next to his buddy. "Yeah, yeah."