Thank you as always, guys, for all your amazing reviews as well as following/favoriting this story. This has to be one of my favorite chapters! And oh, god, I can't believe tomorrow is December. Only 31 days left of 2014! And good news! I got accepted to FSU as well as Lake Forest College in Chicago! I'M SO FRICKIN' HAPPY I JUST...AHHHH! Anyway, enjoy this chapter! :)
If there was another thing Bucky could add to the list of things he was absolutely terrible at, it would cooking. It was a miracle that the former assassin could at least cook bacon without burning it to a crisp. And no matter how many times he had tried to convince Eva that he'd most likely set her kitchen on fire, he had still ended up tending to the boiling apples on the stove, blood pressure rising just like the temperature of the pot. If Bucky was sent to the hospital with an ulcer, he'd blame the small brunette.
Eva was baking a pie for Thanksgiving and with Bucky keeping her company, she put him to work. He glanced up from the pot of sliced apples to look at her every minute; she was rolling out the dough for the crust, sleeves rolled up and her hands covered in flour. It was rather mesmerizing, the way her wrists flicked up and down along the rolling pin and how her shoulders moved along, the look of concentration on her face, as if this were a delicate art. Bucky didn't know much about pie (except eating it), but he supposed it could be an art.
Eva looked over her shoulder just as Bucky quickly averted his gaze back to the apples, fighting down the heat in his neck. He always found himself looking at her and still couldn't produce a reason for it.
She left her task and leaned over his shoulder to look at the pot before reaching over to turn the heat off. "They look just about done."
"So can I quit?" Bucky asked and moved the pot to the back of the stove to cool down.
She threw her head back to laugh and shook her head. "Far from it." Bucky groaned and thumped his head against the cabinet, making Eva laugh again. "We need to make the cinnamon sauce. I'll at least get it started for you."
"You shouldn't trust me with food," he mumbled. "I might end up killing your family."
She snorted, opening the fridge for the carton of milk and retrieving a small container of cinnamon. "You might be doing me a favor."
"What do you mean?" He watched her spoon out cinnamon into a saucepan and pour milk into it, adding a good amount of brown sugar.
She tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear while pulling out a wooden spoon. "My family and I… let's just say that I'm the black sheep of the herd." That earned a look from Bucky to elaborate. "Well, I guess to put it this way, my family doesn't like me because I'm not related to them."
Bucky leaned against the counter and shot her a look of surprise, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You're adopted?"
"You could sort of say that," she shrugged. Bucky wondered how she could remain so calm and casual about this. "It's a long story, so I don't know if-"
"We have a lot of time," Bucky gave her a smile of encouragement, curiosity raging inside him.
"Alright, so I when I was four, my father was killed after getting shot on the job; he was in the. FBI. Smart man, kind, a good dad from what my mother told me. My mom remarried five years after my father passed away to a man named Robert Manders. He was such a nice man and his son, David, was a teenager then and you'd think that he would ignore me, but he immediately became the brother I'd always wanted. They were both so welcoming and it felt good to have a brother who always looked out for me, y'know? But my stepfather's family were totally pissed about him marrying a russian woman and always gave them crap about it. They were so incredibly convinced that every russian was a communist, and they're all so enveloped in there perfect democracy and shit. And since I was the little girl that Robert had brought into his home, I guess that also created a bad rap for me. Every time we'd have Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner, they'd always shove me to the side since I technically wasn't 'their blood'."
"But then years passed and when I was sixteen and David was out of the house and married, we were coming home from a trip to my stepfather's cabin in Pennsylvania and…" Eva took a deep breath and Bucky was afraid to hear what she had to say next. "...and it was raining really hard. So hard that Robert couldn't see and the roads were so slippery that the car ended up skidding and turning over. We rolled down the hill and hit a tree. My mom and Robert died, and I had severe injuries; major concussion, broken arm, laceration on my forehead from the broken glass, two broken ribs. It was really fucking bad. It was so bad that I just couldn't stand riding in a car without thinking of what happened that night; I still can't step inside a car. David had me move in with him and his wife Lisa, but I always felt like a burden since there was nothing connecting us anymore. Our parents were dead, and I had no immediate family. All I had was my stepbrother, and even though his family told him to just let me live with my mother's great-aunt, David still thought of me as his punk sister and made me live under his roof."
"I still feel bad, though, since every holiday when David would force me to those stupid family gatherings, his grandparents or aunts would give him shit about it. I worked really hard in school and got a couple jobs to earn up some money so I could move out and be out of their hair. David offered to pay for school for me, but I couldn't let him. I mean, he took me into his home! How could I? Which is another reason why his family despises me because I refused the money, but if I accepted the money, then I would still be given the bad rap. So, really there wasn't any way out of it. I took two gap years so I could work three jobs and earn up enough money to go to college and afford my rent. I didn't actually go to college until I was twenty and working to become a nurse. Four years later, and here I am, still standing, going to school twice a week and working and paying my rent. I'd say I'm not doing so bad."
Bucky was silent, looking over her with astonishment. Eva was strong, he realized. He was speechless, not sure what to say or do in response. In a mere twenty minutes, he managed to get her life story and still had yet for her to learn anything about him. It was seemingly unfair, but it was something that he felt Eva should know. If she did, she'd kick him out of her life without another glance.
"Eva…" Bucky said, but then shut his mouth, unsure of what to say.
She gave him a smile and waved her hand. "You don't have to say anything, Bucky. I'm just glad you listened. Most people wouldn't."
Bucky took over the task of stirring the sauce while Eva went back to trimming the pie crust. He was left with unease and another feeling: guilt. He wasn't sure why he felt guilty; maybe because Eva was trying to maintain her happiness despite all her hardships and Bucky was stuck hating the world and everyone for what had happened. She was an energy of positivity, showing kindness and compassion for everything while the dark-haired man was an energy of negativity, taking out his pain and anger out on everyone (except Eva).
Although Bucky had a legitimate reason for his behavior, he still felt like he was being a brat. Even if he had decades of torture and brainwashing and the stripping of his very human rights, Bucky still felt that he shouldn't be given the excuse to wallow in his own ball of self-loathing. Despite the very large significance in the two friends' histories, Bucky felt and would always feel from that moment as a poor excuse of a person compared to Eva. She was better than him and he suddenly felt unworthy to be in her presence. Anyone with half a mind could see that.
But in a way, the super-soldier understood how she felt. Although it was two different scenarios, they both dealt with acceptance and rejection. Bucky understood how she felt to a degree; he knew what it felt like to be the so-called 'black sheep of the herd'.
"Are you doing anything special on Thanksgiving?" Eva's question pulled him out of his dark thoughts.
He shook his head in response, Steve was leaving the day before Thanksgiving, leaving him in Maya's company. "Just me and the cat."
It was laughable at how pathetic Bucky sounded.
Eva raised a brow. "So you're spending it by yourself? I'm sure your family would like to see you."
"Don't have a family." Bucky looked up at her with small smile. It made him numb when the words left his mouth, and his heart was pierced with a sudden poignancy.
Eva frowned a bit, before giving him a rather bittersweet smile of her own. "I suppose we're more alike than we realized."
Bucky turned back to stirring the sauce, watching it bubble and steam with a sweet aroma. He felt his left shoulder hurt and he bit back a grimace.
"I suppose we are," he finally said.
The former assassin stood next to his blond friend anxiously. Maria Hill stood rifling through maps and miscellaneous files while Nick Fury stood beside her, indifference blanketing his face. Natasha sat on a desk a few feet away, hacking or doing whatever she did best.
It seemed, in the beginning, like a wise decision for Bucky to aid in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s goal to dismantle the remainder of Hydra, only now he was unsure. Bucky wasn't sure what was holding him back. He was sure and confident in his final decision, until he had set foot into headquarters. The whole ride down in the elevator consisted of him having tense muscles and his jaw set. Steve couldn't help but wonder if his old friend was alright.
It didn't help that the blond thought it be fine to make light of the situation by teasing Bucky about his whereabouts the day before with his lady friend. It only earned a punch to the arm and an incredibly agitated Bucky. At least he hadn't used his metal arm.
Agent Hill finally found the document she was looking for among the mess on the table; for being one of the best agents in S.H.I.E.L.D., she was rather disorganized. She set it down before the dark-haired man and looked up at him with an expression of seriousness.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this, Barnes?" Agent Hill asked him. "You don't have to proceed with this if you don't want to."
Steve quickly glanced at the Winter Soldier, wondering what his moves were. Ignoring the stares and swallowing back his fears and uncertainty, Bucky nodded. "I'm sure."
"Alright," she slid the four page document towards him along with a pen. A contract. "This is just explaining that there is no guarantee for your safety and if you put one of the agents in harms way or relay classified information to enemy organizations, then there will be severe consequences."
"In other words," Fury gave him a hard look. "Screw up and you'll find yourself with a new 'A'."
Bucky scowled to himself, taking up the pen and hastily signed at the bottom of the last page. "How reassuring," he muttered under his breath. He slid the contract back to the brown-haired agent. "There."
"Alright, then," she said as she slipped the packet into Bucky's file. She pulled the maps over and spread them over. "As you are now apart of this team, we need you, since you've spent decades as Hydra's dog, to help us locate their bases. We've been trying to hack into satellites or programs, tap into telephones, anything that can give us a lead. But unfortunately, luck isn't on our side."
"So far we've only achieved in finding a few bases in D.C., but everyone and everything has long been cleared out," Steve said, arms crossed firmly against his chest. "No information, no hints. Even that chair you described Is gone."
"Which, and I still fail to see why, is why you are needed," Fury added.
Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling uncomfortable with all their gazes fixed on him. "What do you know so far?"
Natasha, who had been long forgotten in the background, spoke up. "We found out... well, I managed to find out that Pierce wasn't the only head-in-command."
"Who else is in command?"
"Don't know," the redhead replied. "Too many names. It would take forever to narrow down the list. The list I pulled up is made of high ranking officers, a number that we thought were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents or members of congress. Some them are retired army officers. Lot of Soviets, too. Like I said, it'll take a while."
"In the mean time, we need to shut down whatever major bases are still under operation and retrieve files S.H.I.E.L.D. can work with," Steve said.
"And that's where I come in?" Bucky finally looked up to meet their eyes. "To find the bases?"
Agent Hill nodded. "Exactly. I know this may be a hard task, but you need to tap into that head of yours and try to recollect all the places Hydra hid you away at."
Bucky blew the air out from his mouth and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He peered at the map of the United States and Mexico, and Europe as well as South America, notes and crosses splattered around in red or black marker. His brows knitted together, trying to search his brain for anything, something.
A light bulb flashed in his head before he shifted his gaze between Steve and Natasha. "Do you remember what you told me when you two went to that bunker in New Jersey? What Zola said to you?"
Steve gave the man a curious look. "Yeah, why?"
"He said that Hydra has always been secretly feeding crisis, along with that 'reaping war' crap. Something Hydra did allow me whenever wiping and putting me in cyro was to remember successes," Bucky explained before adding disdainfully, "Unfortunately."
"What do you mean, Barnes?" Fury stared him down with his one good eye. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Bucky tried to resist rolling his eyes. "My theory is that whenever something major happened, Hydra was around to get a front row seat." Bucky turned to the map of the United States and Mexico, pointing towards Cuba. "Nineteen sixty-one, Bay of Pigs. A plan to get Cuba to turn against President Kennedy and the United States and ally with Russia."
"But I thought Kennedy was trying to-" Maria interjected.
"Well, you thought wrong," Bucky said. "Hydra was the spark to help the Bay of Pigs. They didn't like Kennedy's views. And even though the Bay of Pigs succeeded, they didn't realize that Kennedy would still be America's idol. That's when they had to resort to other measures."
Steve's eyes widened in realization while Natasha smirked out of amusement. "Bucky...!"
"So it wasn't Lee Oswald?" Fury pressed. "Why am I not surprised..."
"May I remind all of you that I was brainwashed," Bucky scowled from irritation. He turned back to the map where he pointed back to Cuba. "My guess is that for every assassination and mission Hydra had for me, there was a base nearby. Cuba's a good start."
Steve tried to convince Bucky to come along with to Sharon's for Thanksgiving dinner, but the Winter Soldier repeatedly declined, wishing to spend his time alone. So, Steve left him alone, but told him to call If he needed anything, the two men both knowing that wasn't likely to happen.
Bucky was left with a file he was looking through at his kitchen table, trying to recognize the faces or names Natasha retrieved. It was all a blur to him of black and white with a splash of red logos. He'd grimace and could feel the acid in his stomach make its way up his throat whenever he'd remember a face or name. Those he recognized were a factor to his terrible mentality as well as physicality. All these members of the rogue organization were either rotting in their graves or alive, relishing in the torture inflicted on the dark-haired man.
Some memories flooded his head, memories he wished that could have stayed buried in the depths of his head. He clenched his teeth and swallowed thickly, trying to breathe evenly. He was miserable. He admitted that to himself. Bucky sighed and buried his face into his hands. Maya meowed, coming up to rub her head against his calf before jumping gracefully onto the table. It made him smirk, thinking of the fit Steve would have of he saw the cat on the table.
He pet the feline who stared at him with curiosity. However, his small companion couldn't take away the darkness he felt. He would still feel miserable. And then his thoughts shifted to Eva, wondering if she was holding well at her family's or if she was feeling just as miserable as Bucky was.
And she was miserable. On the other side of D.C., near Virginia, Eva was surrounded by little children, the only people who were accepting in her family. In her aunt's-well, David's aunt, she thought bitterly- large house, family members conversed during dessert. Dinner was, as usual, terrible as she spent It sitting with all the teenagers. Most of them she couldn't stand, considering that they were arrogant brats of doctors and lawyers. It was their parents that made the whole experience horrible; always asking about what she was studying, telling that she shouldn't even try, that she'd never be as as successful titles of "Doctor" or Stanford and NYU alumni.
It took all her willpower not to drive a fork into one of their eyes. At least David decided to be a cop.
Eva sighed to herself, watching her nephew and niece play with the other children. She smirked going back to the days when she was small and without a care in the world. She felt someone sit beside her on the small couch, clearing his throat.
Eva lifted her gaze to meet David's warm green eyes. "Hey."
"Hey," he crossed his arms and watched his daughter, Cara, play alone. She was the youngest of the group of children, being four. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Seeing that I've been banished here," she replied with a hint of sarcasm. "I'd say I'm having a wonderful time."
He chuckled a bit. "At least the kids like you."
"That's because they don't know what a communist is."
"Well, hopefully they won't turn out like some of their parents. Even I can't handle them."
"At least they won't accuse me of being a lesbian," she muttered.
"Sorry about that," David frowned. "I honestly didn't think that Grandma May would go that far. I'll talk to her if you want. Maybe make next holiday a bit more bearable."
"Don't. Please. That'll just give more shit to talk about and make them think I'm weak." Saying this made Eva feel and look pitiful.
It was almost a repeat of every Thanksgiving, Christmas, or whatever holiday spent with David and the family: Eva getting bashed at, retreating to where no one could spew nasty comments, and David finding her in the end to at least lighten her mood. This year, however, didn't end with Eva being in a better mood. David consoling her only made her dig deeper into her own little cloud of darkness. It didn't help her try to come out of her dark head after Grandma May pointed to Eva's head of short hair and accused her of homosexuality. Not that Eva had anything against people of different sexualities, but it did put her into humiliation after hearing the many snickers and side-comments. If only they knew why she had short hair. If only they knew who made her come to that irrational, impulsive decision.
If only they knew how much her-no, David's, family made her feel like absolute shit. It seemed that all hope to pull her out of that abyss of misery was put out like a flame. What was the point of being there on Thanksgiving when Eva had nothing to be thankful for? She was thankful for David and Lisa and his two children, of course, but how could she feel thankful for the existence of these people? If anything, she'd be dancing on their graves.
She'd rather spend her Thanksgiving with someone who she was thankful for. Maybe with someone who felt as lonely as she was. She smiled to herself remembering the day before and what he said about not having a family. And she knew… she knew that he must be lonely at this very moment.
"I think I'm going to head home," Eva got up, David rising along with her.
"Are you sure?" She nodded. With a sigh, David pulled his stepsister in for a hug. "Take care, brat."
"Ass," she muttered into his shoulder, a hint of a smile taking over her lips.
After giving hugs to her niece and nephew, Charlie, Eva made sure to retrieve her pie tin from the dessert table before leaving. It only had a slice left and she knew that even though everyone hated her from the bottom of their terrible hearts, the bastards loved her apple pie. Eva took the two-forty bus, pie in her lap and thumbs twiddling away, sure of her decision to just show up at his door out of the blue. She knew he wouldn't mind. They liked each other's company. Eva actually seemed to find herself liking his company more than she did her friends' or David's. It was strange, she thought, but she wasn't really one to question.
After twenty minutes, the bus came to its stop and Eva got off, pulling her coat closer against the cold air. She turned at the corner and the brick building came into view and she stepped inside, going up to the second floor where she knew he'd be. She remembered which apartment was his; it wasn't hard since it was the first door just left of the staircase. Without hesitation she knocked and waited, hearing footsteps as well as a meow on the otherside.
Bucky opened the door, his expression evolving from stress to surprise. He didn't even count on the small brunette standing in his doorway with a slice of pie. Before he could even ask what she was doing at his apartment, she beat him with her explanation first.
"We're both miserable," Eva said. "I've been feeling like shit all afternoon and I can bet you all the money I have that you must be feeling just the same. But not only that, we're both feeling pretty lonely right now. I know loneliness better than most people, and for some reason whenever I look at you, Bucky, I can see that you must understand, too. I don't want to be lonely, and I don't want you to either. What's the point of me spending my time with people who barely care about me when I can spend it with someone I know who cares about me, where I can spend it with someone I care about."
Eva took a deep breath, and Bucky couldn't help but stare at her with mild shock and his heart suddenly hammered painfully in his chest. Eva looked up at him with her dark brown eyes and continued in a quiet voice.
"Thanksgiving is about being thankful for what you have," she said softly. "And I'm thankful for you, Bucky, for being my friend. So, let's say we have this last slice of pie?"
He suddenly had her in his arms, buried into his chest as he hugged her. Bucky's heart thudded quickly, and he was sure that Eva could hear it; it thudded faster when she retaliated by wrapping her arms around his waist. The Winter Soldier had never cared much for holidays, but he knew that this was probably the best Thanksgiving he had ever had in seventy years.
He had to eventually break the embrace, despite a small part of him didn't want to, and met her face with a genuine smirk. "So… you said there's pie?"