Hola amigos. I would like to thank those who followed and favorited the story.

This chapter is very long and I realllllyyy love it. A lot of Bucky\Addie (Baddie?) action and some mysteriousness so enjoy.

Nescience means lack of knowledge or ignorance. Applies to this chapter

Chapter six: Nescience

At seven the next morning, Addie was standing on the hill facing the valley where the shooting range was. The horizon was orange, a sweet glow of sunshine sweeping across her eyes. The wind brushed through her lose strands of hair, sweeping it gently over her shoulders. The air was humid, heavy with the remnants of last night's rainstorm. Addie felt through the thin layer of skin, the weak bolts of electricity still lingering in the air. A sheer layer of mist settled over her shoulders and on the top of her hair, the cool air making her breath steam out of her mouth.

Bucky watched from the living room window, his movements stopped as he was caught off guard by the sight of the girl on the hill. His hand was outstretched for the door knob, fingers flexed as his eyes found the little black dot that was Addison. She was pacing back and forth, her dark green hoodie pulled over her dark locks. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, her bottom lip caught under her teeth. Whenever she'd pace facing him, he'd get a glance of the worried look in her honey-colored eyes. His shoulders tensed when her eyes searched for him, going from the house to the shed and back, but never seeing him through the window. He was a born assassin, the techniques of stealth inbred in him.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he knew her.

The red and orange glow of the rising sun was casting a beautiful brilliance on her flesh. As Bucky stepped outside into the morning air, he took a minute to breathe in the humidity and roll his shoulders back. He had chosen a dark red hoodie that was way too small for him and grey sweatpants, which quickly got soaked at the hem because of the wet grass. When he glanced up at her, she was dressed better than he was, and she wasn't wearing a shirt too small for her. With her dark green hoodie, she had black jeans with holes at her knees and her little black boots were laced sharply up her ankles.

He made his way slowly up the little hill, a breeze lifting his hair up and out of his eyes. When her eyes landed on him, the beating of her heart took a dangerous road and sped until her breastbone was sore. She could feel her pulse in her throat.

His face was torn between anger and disappointment. He hadn't wanted or expected her to show up.

"You showed up," she said, a bit breathless. "Late." She saw him flex his hands into fists and the level of electricity slowly increased.

"Shut up," he growled. He barely made eye contact with her, his caustic blue eyes wandering from the shed to the range to the grass. She was squirming, he could feel it. She went from foot to foot, her fingers digging in the skin of her palms.

"Stop squirming," he said, his voice laced with acrimony. His brows were furrowed, his jaw taunt. He didn't like it when she was squirming and scared and her eyes round and glossy. She stopped and stared at him with those doe round eyes of hers, her heart-shaped lips parted in question, thick eyebrows pulled into a tight frown.

Abruptly, as if someone kicked him in the ass, he breezed by her and marched his way to the little shed where they stored all the weapons. He heard her small feet trying to catch up behind him, the grass whooshing under his own shoes.

"What are we doing?" she asked, her voice trembling as the slop of the hill declined.

"Getting the guns," he grumbled, his hand finding the lock of the shed door, effortlessly unlocking it and opening the door quite roughly. He stepped inside the dark room, his eyes adjusting immediately to the darkness.

"Oh, we're getting the guns right away," she said timidly, her voice barely above a whisper. When he looked over his shoulder, he caught sight of her face; flesh and hair humid, eyes wide as she searched the darkness. He doubted she could see him all the way in the back, so he took a little more time in examining the curve of her jaw and the way her lips were perked in interest, bolts of electricity coursing along her neck; evidence of her need for more control.

"You're here to shoot guns or not?" he growled as he picked a duffel bag and started filling it with boxes of ammo. He heard her huff.

"Yeah, it's just I wasn't expecting you to jump right into it."

He bit the insides of his cheeks as he caught sight of her face again, the planes of her cheekbones stirring memories within him that were just out of reach.

"Well we are."

He heard something fall and when he twist around in the dark, he saw her biting on her bottom lip, her right hand holding the left one in a painful manner. She had touched something and it had fallen on her hand.

"It's just Nat didn't throw me into training, like she started by-"

"Well forget about Nat," he interrupted abruptly, slinging the ammo-filled bag and picked up two automatic weapons. She was looking lost, a bit of her wet hair sticking to the side of her face.

"Don't you think we sho-"

His metal arm reached out before his mind could register what he was doing and he was holding her tiny bicep in his hand, his face inches from hers. Her eyes, from up close, were a mixture of hazelnut and honey.

"Do you want to learn guns or not, Addison?" he growled, her name flowing off his tongue fluently. She stared back at him, building up her confidence, but she was blank when he looked at her like she was meat and he a lion.

He let go of her bicep, the sting on her flesh evidence that there would be marks of his fingers soon enough. She followed him once again as they left the shed and walked up the hill. She noticed for the first time that his shoulders were too wide for the hoodie he was wearing, the fabric straining against his flesh as he swung his shoulders front to back as he walked.

When they got to the peak, he handed her one of the weapons that was easily thicker than her own bicep and heavier than herself all together. She held it like that, arm outstretched, weapon hanging vertically, her eyes round as she stared at the man who was absentmindedly refilling his ammo. When he was done, he hit the underside of the weapon and found her standing just like he had left her, her mouth parted and brows furrowed.

"You've never held a weapon before?" he asked.

She looked at him with a look that suggested he should know better. "It's not like I shoot people on a daily basis, James." She saw him tense, his shoulders meeting his ears at the use of his name.

He rolled his eyes and stood beside her, gesturing the weapon in his arms and the way he was carrying it. "Hold it like me," he ordered. "Tucked against your shoulder. Right or left handed?"

"Left."

"So hold it like this." Once his fingertips made contact with her skin, he saw the tiny thousands of electricity bolts scurrying under her flesh like little blue rivers. She cradled the gun against her left shoulder, her left hand under the barrel,her right one near the tip of it. "That's nice," he said lowly. He pointed to the scope attached to the top of the weapon. "Now look through here until you see the target at the bottom of the hill over there."

She bent over slightly to line up her eye with the scope. "Oh this is cool," she muttered.

"Don't stick out your hips like that," he mentioned and she felt him circling her like she was prey. She felt his scorching gaze on her every move. "Don't hunch over too much." She re-adjusted her position according to his comments, her eye still lined up with the scope.

The target was wavering in the scope, her trembling hands the cause. She struggled lightly with leveling the center of the cross in the scope with the target. Her finger hovered over the trigger.

"Don't pull the trigger. You're still standing like an idiot," he growled from behind her. She sighed in defeat as she dropped the gun and looked over her shoulder. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart and his arms crossed over his chest, the weapon hanging from his shoulder.

"I did everything you said," she answered in the most innocent tone he'd ever heard. His ears pricked with reconnaissance but he pushed the feeling as far away as possible. She was looking at him so expectantly, like she was depending on him. She looked so small, a speck of darkness against the now pink and orange sky, her hair caught in the wind. There was a sudden and very brief moment where he wanted to brush his knuckles against her cheek and push the loose strands of hair away from her eyes.

"I know," he growled. "But do it better."

She tried again, the feeling of the weapon in her arms becoming familiar. Yet she still trembled, her aim wavering immensely. Her palms were covered in sweat and her heart was throbbing in her ears. She could feel her skin vibrating with electricity.

"Stop trembling," he mumbled.

"I can't," she muttered and wasn't surprised when he heard her.

"It's going to be cold when you're going to face a real target," he answered vehemently, his tone raising. The sun was turning her humid skin into a hot mess and she yearned to take off the ridiculous hoodie.

She fidgeted with the weapon, her eye still looking through the scope. "You're making me nervous," she murmured. He tensed, his hands clenching instinctively on the barrel of the gun. His eyes found the back of her head, where he caught a glimpse of the pale flesh of her neck. He could see blue bolts coursing through her veins, just like the serum was boiling his own blood.

He knew why he was making her nervous; he had since the first time they met. He could always see the slight bitterness in her eyes, the way they darted to exit paths whenever he was around. Or the way her fingers were curled into fists and her skin was buzzing with electricity. He unnerved her in a way she didn't even understand.

"It doesn't matter, just aim," he grumbled. She sighed lowly, her elbows bending as she brought the gun back to eye level.

"I can feel you judging me," she mumbled again, and when he moved to stand beside her, he noticed how red her cheeks were.

"So when you're going to be in a situation of life or death, you're not going to shoot that gun because you can feel me judging you?" he growled, and she could feel how close he was. His shoulder brushed hers and a shiver sliced through her spine, bolts of electricity tingling her skin.

The gun dropped in her hands, her face finding Bucky's very annoyed and pissed one. "You're an asshole to me and then you want to teach me guns, but you're rude and cold. That doesn't make sense!" Her eyes were wild, the chocolate color of them lighter with the sun now bright and hot.

His movements were sudden and quick, his hand snatching the brunette's forearm in his human flesh hand. "You're pathetic," he gnarled, baring his teeth. He came inches from her own face and she could see just how much he was neglecting his beard, but she also remarked how white his teeth were. Despite for the fear prickling her skin, she managed to stare at his searing eyes and the blown pupil. "All this hesitation gets you dead."

"Stop talking to me like that," she said, her voice wavering between a mewl and frustration. He stared down at her, his jaw twitching, his fingers itching to hurt her because she was angering him.

"You're not a baby," he growled back. "This world is harsh. Steve and Sam and Nat have been treating you like a little doll. You're not ready to fight. You're weak." She tried to wrench her arm from his hand, but to no avail. His fingers were clenched hard around her wrist and the more he pulled her closer to him, the angrier she got. Her face was red with acrimony and her heart was burning with frustration. He was pushing the line, he knew it, but he was tired of her being a little caged bird. "You're going to die because you're afraid of the big bad wolf, or worse, you're going to be kidnapped because you can't pull a trigger. Like I said, weak."

Again, she savagely tried to break free, her teeth clamped together as she growled, "let go."

He pulled her harshly to him, her free hand pressing against his chest, her doe brown eyes boring into his. "Someone is going to be threatening you or one of us, and you won't be able to protect us because you're scared." His voice wavered between insanity and annoyance.

"I said stop!" Her voice was louder, his face so close to hers she could feel the heat rolling off of him.

"You're not going to last long," he growled and her anger burst like a fireball at the center of her being and she kicked him in the shin, his grip loosening enough for her to wrench her arm free. She leveled the gun until the end was pointed at his chest. She was breathless, her chest heaving with the angry intakes of breath she was forcing through clenched teeth. Anger boiled in her every vein as she resisted the urge to shoot him like he deserved. Her fingers trembled, hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

And he just smiled.

He visually embraced how she looked, standing with a gun aimed at his chest. Her dark brows were pulled tightly into a frown, her lips pursed, and her eyes swimming in charcoal. Her anger transformed her ability internally, blue rivers dancing under her flesh, glowing and sparkling.

"Now you're ready to learn."


Dinner was pizza. Since no intruder could come near the house, it was up to Steve and Clint to make the pizza. Wanda helped with the crust and Addie helped slicing up the items to put on the pizzas. In all, it was a very enjoyable cooking session after her time with Bucky during the day. He had her tensed up so much that her neck was stiff and her shoulders were sore. Her forearms hurt from holding the heavy weapon for so long and her eyes were red from staring through the scope.

They had set up the dinner table with fine cutlery and shining silverware. They had fanned out stark white napkins and they had all tried to look their best. There was no particular occasion but for everyone's sanity, Steve had suggested a group dinner. No one really ate together. Addie ate breakfast usually with Wanda, Steve, and Clint, and spent her dinners alone in her room scrolling through the Internet. She had eaten dinner with everyone else only once or twice, usually when Nat cooked.

She was especially happy to participate this time, her anger and annoyance from earlier dissipating as she sliced and cut pepperonis and peppers and mushrooms. She watched the complicity of the rest of them; those people who were connected in unbelievable ways through magic and inhuman abilities as they performed rather ordinary things such as screaming when one pizza burned or snorting when there was way too much paprika on another. They seemed so extraordinary from afar, yet once you got closer into their world, they were simply humans. Normal humans.

They were eating like a bunch of high school goofballs; sauce on their chins and wolfish grins on their lips. Everyone was typically enjoying themselves except for, obviously, Bucky, who was bent over his four slices. He barely talked as he ripped his teeth through the crust and avoided eye contact as much as possible.

"Steve has some good news," Clint said through a mouthful of pizza. The aforementioned wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand and gulped.

"It's not good news, just news," he chuckled nervously.

"Did you talk to Sharon?" Sam asked as he shoved a whole slice into his mouth.

"I bet you guys tried phone sex and that wasn't for you," Scott cut in, a huge suggesting grin on his bearded face. Wanda burst out laughing, pizza bits flying into her plate. When she realized most of us were simply in shock, she covered her mouth and nodded seriously.

"I don't think Steve is into those things," she said almost sarcastically.

Steve was shaking his head like he was dealing with twelve-year-olds and he might as well be. "It's not about Sharon," he mumbled, and Addie could see how pink his cheeks were as he dipped his head forward and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"You finally figured out how to open your phone," Sam said, chuckling and elbowing Scott in the ribs.

"Oh oh, I know," Wanda said, her index pointing at Steve. "You listened to Magic Carpet Ride and discovered just how much you missed in seventy years."

"Sharon sent you a selfie and you didn't know how to send one back."

"No guys, he probably figured out memes."

Steve got up abruptly, setting everyone on edge and dissipating the comic aura around the table. He leaned forward, hands on the table, and smiled forcefully. He was not in a mood to joke and here they all were, poking and prodding through his personal life and joking about it. "Clint and I might have a lead."

"Shit," Scott grumbled.

"After weeks of waiting, something finally popped up," Sam commented.

Steve nodded. "One of Clint's um... friends gave us intel. There might be HYDRA activity in an old industrial plant in Florida. We think they could have been covering it up with satellite interference and the like because not one of Clint's gadgets could get us a full, close up view of the place."

"We should go soon," Clint added. "The faster we find out what they're hiding there, the faster we know what they're up to."

"You think they could be hiding what in there?" Wanda asked, her eyes glued to Steve like he was a life force.

"All we know is that Loki, presumed dead, is with them now," he grumbled, "and we know how infinite Loki's quest for power can be. He could be hiding an Infinity Stone like there could be nothing."

"So what's the deal?" Sam asked.

"We need everyone on board," Clint continued. "We don't know what to except. A HYDRA army or just two janitors? We don't know. We can't risk it."

"So we investigate and if we have to fight, we fight," Steve said. "There might be things we need to take, people we'll have to fight, but we're not going there solely for bloodshed."

Addie's heart was in her throat. Her first mission. The more Steve explained the mechanics of the mission, the more her skin pin prickled with anticipation. She watched everyone pour themselves into the details, but all she could think of was that she would finally fight someone. She would finally be on a mission with the Avengers.

"Addie, you cool?" Sam asked from the other side of the table.

When she looked up, she caught sight of Bucky staring at her with darkness swirling into those scorching eyes of his before she nodded and said, "yeah, I'm cool."

Steve gave her a curt nod, his eyes narrowed on her face as if trying to decipher if she really was ready. "We leave tomorrow," he said.

They finished dinner in a frenzy of jokes engendered by Sam and Scott, followed by Wanda and Addie guffawing and throwing pizza at each other while Cap and Clint were trying to calm them down. Alas, they could do nothing but watch the two grown men make stupid jokes while two young women burst out in laughter. There wasn't even any alcohol. Bucky was bent awkwardly over his pizza, his mouth remaining shut and his eyes averted.

As usual whenever they ate dinner together, they washed the dishes together. And again, Sam and Scott were goofing around and aiming the water jet in Wanda's face, followed by whipping Addie with a soaking wet towel. Nonetheless, the kitchen floor was soaked and so were the girls as they desperately tried to calm their laughter.

As she made her way alone up to room, she had a permanent smile on her lips. She was finally fitting in; something she could hardly do for the past couple weeks due to Bucky's condoning and disregard. She would finally go on a mission with the Avengers; well half of them anyway. She'd have a chance at proving herself, showing what she was made of. She was not a scared little girl like Bucky made her out to be; she'd fight whether she'd have to use her electricity or not.

A raised voice caught her attention as she was about to enter her room. Her ears perked as she heard muffled voices behind Bucky's door.

"Keep quiet."

She frowned, her heart in her throat as she took tentative steps towards the door. Her palms collected sweat, her head telling her she should not meddle in something that isn't her business.

"Look all I'm saying is we can't bring her." It was obviously Bucky speaking, the bitter tone of his voice giving him away.

"How else will she gain experience, Buck?" Steve whispered harshly. "She can't keep fighting us. One day, she'll have to fight the enemy."

Addie gulped as she carefully approached the closed door, her fingers skimming the wall anxiously.

"One day, yes," Bucky replied, "but I don't think she's ready."

"Because you keep putting her in the dark, Buck." Very lowly, she heard Bucky groan tiredly. "We have to trust she'll do what we taught her."

Addie's lips turned into a sweet smile at Steve's words, but she was soon rendered frozen in her place when Bucky cleared his throat and whispered lowly, "I'll protect her."