Chapter Four
She didn't see him at first.
With her arms loaded with shopping bags and a cellphone pressed against her ear, she almost walked past him and noticed nothing about him. She was pressed for time, having pushed her Christmas shopping up to a few days before the actual day, and she was busy trying to survive the crowds that gathered during the festive season.
There was plenty of pushing and arguing and noises. She even had the luck to see two grown women fighting over the toy of the "moment". She knew she couldn't be too judgmental, she herself was laden with commercial merchandise; it was simply too hard to resist the Holiday Cheer. She had one more stop, just one more, before she could call her shopping expedition a success. As her destination was across the mall, she put her blinders on to avoid getting distracted with colorful decorations, and she set off.
If she hadn't dropped one of her smaller bags, there was a chance that she would have never seen him. But she did, and as she straightened up (fallen purchase safely clutched in hand) she noticed the tall man standing at the entrance of a department store. He wasn't particularly noticeable, nothing to advertise what his true intentions were. His hair was long, almost too long, and he was staring intently towards the direction she was headed.
Amelia wasn't sure what unsettled her about him. He wasn't behaving in any way to lead her to suspect something was amiss. And yet…
Maybe it was the unblinking stare, fixated on something in the far distance.
Maybe it was the too still way he was standing, his posture rigidly straight.
Or maybe it was just the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
She couldn't ponder the reasons for too long. In an abrupt and sudden manner, the man began walking, his pace fast and clearly with direction. Amelia stood rooted in place, wondering why no one else could see that there was something dangerously wrong with this person. The world was still spinning, people were still shopping, and he was still walking.
Throughout her life, Amelia had made questionable decisions that would come to bite her in the butt. There was the middle school hair style she cut herself, back when she knew everything. There were the boyfriends who tore tiny little tears in her heart, time and time again. There was even a tattoo that she refused to talk about.
This.
This, however, was on a different scale.
She decided to follow him.
…
All the faces staring back at her were impassive.
Natasha had led her through the front door, past the living room, and into the kitchen. She hadn't expected to meet everyone in one go, but here she was, standing before everyone while they stared in silence. Not exactly everyone, she could see. There were faces missing. One in particular she was glad she didn't have to deal with just yet.
The silence was almost deafening; it took everything in Amelia's power not to run back out the way she came in. It helped that Clint gave her an encouraging smile. She had never been at ease with Natasha's partner, but the fact that he was willing to give a sign of support was enough to keep her knees from giving out.
Wanda also gave her a friendly smile, breaking the bored expression on her face as she leaned against the kitchen counter. Bruce Banner, the man who "interrogated" her during the early days, stood up and walked up to her.
"It's damn good to see you, kid." He stretched out his hand, as if a handshake was what was appropriate. Amelia hesitated for a fraction of a second before she launched herself at him in a tight embrace. She knew Banner wasn't a hugging individual, but couldn't seem to stop herself. It didn't help that he bore a strong resemblance to her father. She felt his arms wrap around her, patting her on the back along the way.
"It's been a while, huh," she responded. He took a step back and gave her a searching look.
"Short hair suits you," he finally decided. Amelia grabbed the strands of brown hair brushing her shoulders with her hand, smiling. She still couldn't believe that there was a time she strongly disliked this man. His clinical way of talking, his straightforwardness, made her think he was cold. In reality, he was a walking genius who had a hard time interacting with people.
As he made his way back to his seat, she couldn't help but look around. The kitchen was tiny (made even more so by all the bodies crammed in), but warm. There was a small window in front of the sink, the reflection on the glass showing the group of people gathering around. It looked like they had been in the middle of something, papers spread before everyone, and more than one laptop's bright screen staring at Amelia.
"If y'all are done reintroducing yourselves, can we continue, please? I want to get to bed at a reasonable hour." Wanda impatiently tapped her fingers on the counter, her foot tapping the bottom rung of the bar stool she was perched on.
Natasha turned to the younger woman, her face an expression of amusement. "Y'all? Wanda, you've only been in Texas for six weeks."
Wanda pointed her foot, clad in a cowboy boot, towards Natasha. "You above everyone else knows the importance of assimilating with the locals."
Natasha merely shook her head and headed to the small table pushed to the back of the kitchen. She motioned for Amelia to join her. As she walked, she couldn't help but meet the furrowed gaze of Tony Stark.
He most definitely was not pleased to see her. Amelia swallowed and continued on, trying to avoid the dark eyes that bore their gaze directly at her. It was hard, seeing as the small kitchen didn't leave much room to avoid the coldness emanating from him. She hadn't had the pleasure of enjoying much interaction with the eccentric billionaire, all their conversations including only aspects of the job. She had never had negative feelings towards him, however. She had assumed, at that time, that he had felt the same. She tried not to take it personally, but the warning glance that Natasha sent his way let her know it wasn't just her imagination overreacting.
"Seeing that our group had been breached by an outsider, maybe we should leave further discussions until a later time." His voice was clipped and low, his demeanor letting everyone know exactly who his words were directed towards.
Amelia swallowed hard but didn't say anything. She knew not everything was going to be smooth sailing. She had anticipated some hostility from the others, knew she deserved it. What actually surprised her a bit was the source. Tony had never been someone she had gotten along with, or rather he had never bothered with someone like her. It seemed surreal that he would be so disturbed by her presence when he had never seemed to care before.
"Tony, we agreed to leave our personal feelings at the door." Clint surprised her by loudly defending her. Amelia tried to look composed by the whole thing but her heart was hammering inside her chest. She hated conflict, hated that they clearly had some form of discussion about her before her entrance. The last thing she wanted was to ruffle feathers.
"Personal feelings?" Tony put up a feigned expression of innocence. "I truly don't know what you can possibly mean, Barton." He looked around, his obviously expensive form slightly out of place in the humble kitchen. "I'm simply concerned about the discretion of the whole thing. I find it hard to accept we are willing to talk mission details with any stray that got picked up along the road."
"Amelia has been here before, Tony. She's not exactly a stranger that dropped on our laps." Amelia was grateful that Bruce was making an effort on her behalf, was grateful to all of them, really. Wanda, quiet as she was, was still giving her silent signals of support. She couldn't have them carrying her burdens forever, however.
"I'm sorry about everything, Tony. I shouldn't have expected-"
"Don't." He finally looked directly at her, his stare gluing her to the chair she sat on. "You shouldn't have come back at all."
Natasha had watched everyone with detached interest, her eyebrows raising at certain parts. She stood up now, a hand held up to Tony's chest. "Outside, now."
Tony laughed and Amelia wondered if she had ever heard a laugh so sarcastic. "Are you asking or ordering?"
"Move on your own, Stark, or I will move you." The redhead seemed to have lost all patience with the billionaire, if her flat voice was anything to go by.
"No need, Romanoff." He spread his arms wide. "I wasn't keen on hanging around, anyway." He pointed a finger at Clint. "And you fill me in later. I am not going in blind just because none of you can see the stupidity in bringing her back."
He turned sharply and practically stomped out of the room, his expensive cologne leaving a trail behind him.
Natasha rolled her eyes. "Immature baby," she muttered, before following him.
There was a quiet lull in the room as the remaining occupants considered their situation. Amelia's face burned, Wanda looked amused, and Bruce seemed more concerned with the contents of his iPad. Only Clint seemed to be considering following the bickering duo.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Wanda finally said, her smile kind. "We've all known you'd be back eventually."
"You... knew I'd be back?" Amelia frowned, unable to comprehend the concept.
Wanda stared back, her blue eyes wide. "You didn't?"
Amelia found she couldn't answer. She was dismayed to find most of her courage had deserted her the moment her redheaded security blanket had walked out of the room. So much for being self-reliant.
…
Natasha caught up with Tony at the edge of the large oak tree, her legs slowing down as she realized he had come to a stop.
"Stark."
Tony's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't turn around. "Romanoff." He glanced back, if only to emphasize his words with his eyes. "Shouldn't you be back with your ward? With her history, she could be halfway to Mexico by now."
Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. "If you could take your head out of your own ass for two seconds, we might actually be able to have a grownup conversation."
"What do you want, Natasha?"
"I just want to remind you that your attitude is misplaced. Amelia hasn't done anything to deserve your -"
"Hasn't done anything? Wasn't it you who personally escorted agents out of SHIELD headquarters for simply considering leaving?"
"That was different and you know it," Natasha countered, her calmness a cold contrast to Tony Stark's growing anger. "Since you can't seem to remember, let me remind you; we practically kidnapped the woman and forced this life on her."
Tony shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, that stopped being a factor the moment she made the decision to stay." He pointed a finger at Natasha. "You were there, we all were. She was given an out, given a chance to go home and forget everything. She chose to stay."
"Tony-"
"We all made a promise, not only to the team, but to each other." He rubbed his face and laughed dryly. "If you want to forget that, Romanoff, go ahead. But don't expect the world to agree with you."
Natasha saw the anger, but she knew it covered a deeper meaning. "I've read your file, Tony. Your real file."
His eyes narrowed and he moved closer to her. Natasha didn't budge. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that we both know this has little to do with Amelia." Natasha uncrossed her arms and moved forward to meet his own advancing steps. "You have every right to be angry, Stark. Just make sure it's directed at the right people."
Natasha gave him one last searching look before heading back inside, leaving the man to simmer in his own emotions.
…
Amelia was glad to see Natasha come back, her face revealing nothing of what occurred between her and Tony.
"Unfortunately, this means we have to cut our meeting short." Natasha glanced at Wanda. "Please show Amelia her sleeping arrangements."
Wanda gave the okay sign and motioned at Amelia to follow her. "You get to bunk with me, but I can give you the grand tour first."
The grand tour ended up being a quick walk through around the public spaces of the house. Wanda didn't say much, not until she led them to a hallway off of the living room. "The master bedroom is on the opposite side of the house, it has it's own bathroom." She opened a door, showing a bathroom behind. It was small, but updated, surprising Amelia. "We get to share this with the guys."
Amelia ignored Wanda's bunched up nose, feeling her heart skip at the reminder. This was partly the reason she was so hesitant on sharing a house with… specific people. There was a certain domesticity included that she wasn't so keen to jump into.
Wanda read her apprehension correctly. "Don't worry, it's not like everyone is here at the same time. The part-timers only show up a couple of times a week, sometimes even less."
"Part-timers?"
"Yeah, people like Tony who don't actually live here." Wanda gave her a knowing look. "Although, no one was surprised when he refused to stay here. It's gotta have room service or he's not doing it."
They walked past a closed door, yellow light bleeding from the bottom. "That's currently Clint's room. He's sharing with Bucky."
Amelia felt the muscles in her face freeze. She was dimly aware that Wanda was looking at her expectantly. She did her best to keep her reaction under wraps, not giving away that she was affected by the fact that they were separated only by a closed door. Wanda looked disappointed at the lack of expression.
"Anyway, this is our humble abode." Wanda opened the door at the far end of the hallway and Amelia stepped through. She was pleasantly surprised at what she found, having pictured everything under the sun, and then some.
The main focus of the room were the twin beds, pushed against opposite ends of the space. There was a bureau, random items scattered on the top, that took up a good chunk of the opposite wall. Amelia assumed the only door in the room led to the closet. The décor was simple, nothing ostentatious; a couple of lamps and a gray rug being the only accent pieces she noticed.
"It's nice," she concluded, meaning it.
Wanda responded by throwing herself on one of the twin beds. "I'd offer to help you unpack, but I'm assuming you didn't bring much."
Amelia nodded, making her way to the other bed. "Nat didn't leave me any time to pack. I had to clear my apartment in twenty four hours, be out of the state in forty eight." That wasn't quite accurate, Amelia admitted to herself. She had the opportunity to pack something decent, she just hadn't had the motivation. There was nothing she owned she couldn't be persuaded to part with.
"That sounds like our girl." Wanda flipped around, lying on her stomach and pulling a pillow under her chin. "How was it like? The outside world, I mean."
There was a certain innocence to Wanda's question, and Amelia had to remind herself the younger woman hadn't spent much time in the "real" world before she was recruited. She positioned herself on the bed, trying to figure out exactly how to phrase her answer. "It was different."
"Different from this life, or different to how your life was before all this happened?"
Amelia had to admire the perceptiveness of her companion, now roommate. "Yes, to both. I never had to second guess my decisions, never had someone overlooking my life, so to speak." She looked at Wanda, her attention completely given to her. "It was nice to be able to go out for coffee if I wanted to. It was also hard falling into a routine, having experienced so much."
Wanda sighed. "I've thought a lot about what I would have done if I'd never joined." She began chewing on her thumbnail, a faraway look on her face. "I might have actually gone to college, y'know. I certainly had the smarts for it."
Amelia knew for a fact she was being modest. "You joined right after high school, didn't you?"
Wanda looked down, a distinct tinge of sadness coloring her face. "Yeah. Seems like a lifetime ago."
"Couldn't you leave, if you really wanted to?" Amelia wasn't sure if she was crossing a line by asking her this. Her own decision to leave and the follow through were complicated, to say the least.
Wanda flashed her a weak smile. "None of us can leave, Amelia. That's just the way it is."
"I did," Amelia countered, but doubts were clouding her mind. Had she really left?
Wanda seemed to read her mind. "Maybe, maybe not."
There was not much left to say after that, and Amelia was grateful. She didn't know what else to say. At some point Natasha came by to check on her, although she tried to disguise it by claiming she had information to share.
"Get some sleep, Amelia. Tomorrow will be your first real day back and I won't hold back."
Amelia wasn't sure what to make of that, so she simply nodded and promised Natasha she would be ready for whatever she was throwing at her. To soon, however, she had to face the unavoidable.
Stepping into the hallway, footsteps light and quick, she made her way into the bathroom. The quick glance from earlier hadn't revealed just how masculine everything was. Wanda's feminine touches seemed to drown a midst all the slate grays, shaving cream, and razors. She clutched the toiletry bag in her hand (the only thing she had taken the effort to pack) and quickly determined she was not going to leave any of her things here. She would lug that thing around every time she needed it, rather than risk having her personal items be up for anyone's viewing pleasure.
Wanda was already in pajamas when she returned, her hair up and her face devoid of makeup. "Natasha doesn't mind if I use the other bathroom, especially if ours is occupied."
Lights went out not too long after that, and Amelia tried her hardest to fall asleep. It wasn't easy, seeing as she had slept a good portion of the drive, but she knew it wouldn't bode well if she was sleep deprived the following day. Thoughts and events kept on flooding her mind, making it difficult to shut it off and fall asleep.
Her parents were at the forefront. By now they would have found her empty apartment. She had no doubt that they would have flown from sunny Florida to come find their daughter. She tried not to think about them, about the grief in her mother's voice when she spoke to her. She tossed and turned but couldn't quite make the images go away. Eventually, she admitted defeat.
Careful not to wake Wanda (she had fallen asleep straight away), she got out of bed and walked out of the room. She could hear soft voices coming from somewhere in the house, but she concluded there wasn't really anything wrong with what she was doing. Still, it felt like her teenage years when she would sneak out to meet her foolhardy friends. She quietly made her way outside.
The night was still and warm.
There was a light breeze, but nothing to cool down her already perspiring skin. She headed to the front porch steps, sitting down on the last one. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. The calmness of the night soothed her thoughts, forcing them to slow down from a race to a crawl. She once again focused on the beauty of the landscape around her, cast in shadows at the moment.
There was a vast space of land around the house, nothing but tall grass, bushes, and trees. In the distance, she had noticed the hard lines of rock formations, their size and shape impressive. She could hear a wooden wind chime near by, the sound melodic and haunting all at once. She wished,more than ever, she could be certain she had made the right choice by coming back.
It all seemed overwhelming, her parents, the reception of Tony Stark; even the kindness shown by the others felt like too much. She didn't feel she deserved it.
Amelia would have been content in contemplating her choice all night, if she hadn't had a visitor. She heard the front door open and felt the presence of someone before she heard the footsteps against the wooden porch.
She turned, expecting to see Natasha calling her back in.
But it wasn't Natasha. Or Wanda. It wasn't even Clint or Bruce. Tony would have been welcome at that point. That wasn't how life worked, Amelia realized, she couldn't chose when or how certain events unfolded. If she could, she wouldn't have chosen that moment, that time, to meet Bucky Barnes once again.
He stopped at the sight of her, the dim porch light casting a shadow over his face, obscuring his reaction. She saw his hand on the door tighten, the door creaking under the stress. He was ridiculously strong, she remembered sharply, all the different ways he demonstrated that flashing through her mind.
She knew she needed to say something, felt it was the right thing to do. Her lips were stuck together, though, and words seemed to be a foreign concept she hadn't yet become familiar with.
He looked unsure of what to do himself, his jaw tense, and his eyes on everything but her face. She stood up hesitantly, her action drawing him out of whatever indecisive spell he was under. She saw him starting to retreat, saw him getting ready to turn back in.
"Bucky." He stopped at her voice, small and thready. She knew she had to say something quickly, before her nerves failed her. "I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, trying to calm down her beating heart. "About Steve… About everything."
The world stopped spinning for a moment and Amelia was convinced he was going to say something. He even turned slightly back to her.
He did not.
She watched in silence as he walked back inside, the door slamming behind him with a decisive thud. She didn't realize she was shaking until she tried to move and found she couldn't. Her knees wobbled as she sat back down, unable to shake off the sudden chill that had overcome her. It wasn't fear, she decided, this thing she was feeling.
She had known fear, once upon a time, had even been terrified of him at one point. This feeling, this overwhelming feeling, was new.
And she wasn't sure she liked it.
