Cara walked up the steps of the train, struggling with the heavy luggage. She finally made it all the way in, pushing the suitcase into one of the compartments by the entrance. They didn't check their bags in, as the train line did not allow firearms, ammunition, or gun powder, and they were guilty of carrying more than a few of those. She turned around, about to say something to Bucky, but he was nowhere to be found. Her heart fluttered slightly, but she reminded herself that panicking was what had caused their last argument.
"Bucky?" she called out. She took a few steps forward to see him glaring at the metal, ridged stairs, not making any move to walk up them. She quickly made her way towards him. "Hey. Hey, you okay?"
He looked up at her sharply.
"I'm okay," he said. "Just... Last time I was on a train, it didn't go down so well."
It a minute to process what he meant, and when it did, she couldn't believe what a stupid mistake she had made.
Idiot, she thought, and bit her lip, shaking her head. "I didn't think about that. Shit."
"It's okay," he said. "I'm okay."
"No," she said. "It's not. I was so desperate to leave I didn't- I didn't think. I'm sorry." I didn't think about you. I'm an selfish, stupid idiot.
"Cara," he said."It's okay."
She stepped down, looking up at his blue eyes, and reached forward, taking the suitcase from his grasp.
"I'm really am sorry, Bucky," she said. "I'll be right here the entire time." She turned back around, and once again tried to climb up stairs with a bulky case filled with clothes and assault rifles, as well as leading him up the stairs.
I'm an idiot. I'm so stupid.
When she finally made it to the top, she pushed it in with hers, all the way in the back, and turned to him. He looked slightly pale, but otherwise okay.
"Let's find our seats," she said. He nodded, and followed along close behind her. After two cars or so of walking, the train gave a lurching jolt without warning, and began to move. Bucky lashed out, and caught her arm, steadying her as she almost toppled forward. His grip was very tight, bordering on painful. She turned around, and saw that he was staring at some distant place on the wall. He didn't even seem to be aware that he was holding her.
"James Barnes," he said. "107th."
"Bucky," she said, reaching out to touch the hand as it began to tighten on her arm, attempting to pry off his fingers. "Bucky, it's okay. It's not like last time. You're safe."
"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 3255-"
"Bucky," Cara said, as her attempts to loosen his grip proved futile.
"-7038, 107th Infantry-"
"Bucky, look at me!" she said, reaching up to touch his cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone. His gaze fell to her sharply. "It's okay. You're safe, you're safe."
He just kept staring at her blankly. She glanced behind him, and saw that several people were staring at them.
"Hey," she said. "You remember who you are?"
He nodded slowly, eyes still empty. "Bucky. Bucky Barnes."
"You remember who I am?"
"Cara."
"Where are we?"
"June. 2014."
"Where are we?"
"Train. New York."
"Yes. Listen to me. You're safe, you're okay."
He shook his head. "Safety is an illusion, Cara. No one is ever really safe. Especially not people like us."
She pushed the hair back from face. "I know, darling. But that's why we pretend."
He stared at her, searching her face for something, before his gaze drifted down to the hand latched onto her arm. His eyes widened, and he released her quickly, shaking his head.
"I did it again," he said. "I hurt you again."
"You didn't-" Cara began, but he took a few stumbling steps back.
"You need to stop me," he said, "Cara, you have to stop me."
"I did," she said. "You calmed down. You didn't hurt me. You didn't." He was still shaking his head, and pushed her away, heading to the end of the train.
"Wait, Bucky," she said, trying to follow him.
"I need some air," he said. "Please. Don't follow me."
She stopped, and watched him leave the car helplessly.
"Your husband," a voice said next to her. She looked down to see an old man, wearing a hat that read WWII Veteran. "He a soldier?"
She nodded, staring at the place he disappeared from.
"Just get back?"
"Yeah," she said. "You could say that."
"Thought so," he said, tapping his hat. "I know that look. It isn't your fault, kid. War is a heavy thing to carry. You never really leave it behind. And it never really leaves you. Some part of you will always be trapped there. It isn't your fault, kid."
"No," she said. "This was my fault. I messed up. He got hurt a train while fighting, more than hurt, captured and taken prisoner for the longest time, and then I go out and get us train tickets. Stupid."
"Listen. Don't hold it against you. You're human. You're gonna slip up."
"I don't think that's an option. Not with him."
The man gave her a sympathetic look. "What's your name?"
"Cara," she said.
"It'll be okay, Cara," he said. "He's not angry with you."
"I am though," she said. "I'm angry at myself. How could I do that to him?"
The old man stood up, and walked stiffly passed her, patting her shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself, kid. Now, I have to go see if this train has anything real to drink on it. Go make sure he's okay."
She was frozen there for a moment, about to go find Bucky.
"Cara?" Another voice said. One she recognized. She spun around to see Natasha Romanoff walking towards her, closely followed by Steve Rogers and a handsome black man she didn't know.
Shit, she thought. Of all the trains. Of all the days. Of all the people.
"Nat?" she said. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know. Just traveling," she said. "What about you?"
"Keeping my head down," she said. "Or I was trying to, until you and America's sweetheart showed up." She glanced around, making sure there no other surprises, that Clint Barton would drop from the rafters, or Sharon Carter from the seat next to her, or Tony Stark from who knows.
"We weren't followed."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure," Natasha said, looking back Steve and the other man. "Steve, you remember Cara?"
"We met a few times," he said, nodding at her. "Glad to see you made it out."
"You too, Steve," she said. She realized then that all three of them looked exhausted, and beat up, although in her current condition she couldn't really judge.
"Sam, this is Cara," Nat was saying, gesturing to the man behind her. "She worked for SHIELD. She was one of the good ones. Cara, this is Sam Wilson. He helped us take down SHIELD."
"Hey," he said, giving her a smile. "Sorry about, you know, basically destroying your job."
"Honestly, I'm thankful," she said, returning the grin. "Didn't pay enough. Made me work weekends. Got shot at a lot. This is a little calmer."
Sam laughed. "Well, that's what superheroes do. Glad we could help."
"So," Cara said. "What are you doing here?"
Steve glanced at Natasha, obviously checking to make sure she was trustworthy. Nat gave a barely perceptible nod.
"There's a base up here," he said. "We think that it might be holding Bucky."
Cara felt like her heart stopped, but hoped it didn't show up on her face. That thought was smashed when Natasha clearly caught it, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, glancing at Cara's finger, where the wedding ring sat.
Neither Sam or Steve picked up on any of it, luckily.
"Bucky? As in... As in James Barnes? Natasha told me about him, last time we talked," Cara said. "I'm sorry, Steve. This must be hell for you."
"It's okay," he said. "I have a chance to get my friend back, and that's all I really care about."
Cara nodded, before glancing down her phone. "Oh, no. I'm meeting someone here, and the meeting's in like three minutes. Hopefully, I'll catch you later."
And then she ran off, to warn Bucky about something he might not need a warning for.
Bucky stood at the end of the train, hands enclosed around the bars, almost like holding on for dear life. As the wind rustled around him, he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. Trains were not good. The moment it started moving, he was back in 1945, back in the snow, as a train rattled through wintry mountains. He had been right there, he could feel his breath freeze in his lungs, could feel his both his hands for the last time as they clung to the frozen bar, the iron cutting at his skin. He had felt it give way as he fell down, down, down. The wind had hurt then, as it mixed with his own screams that were torn from his mouth as he watch his life slip from his outstretched hand.
He had luckily snapped out of it before he hit the ground. Because the fall wasn't the worst part. It was disorienting, it was terrifying, yes.
But the truly horrifying part was what came after. That's when the pain began.
He had snapped out of it when he heard Cara's voice, telling him he was okay, when he realized that he had almost hurt her. He had almost hurt Cara (or maybe he actually had... He wasn't sure if she had been lying or not. He never could tell if she was lying).
"James!" Cara said from behind him.
He turned around to see Cara running up to him, looking borderline frantic.
"Cara?" he said, stepping forward, glancing behind her to make sure she wasn't being chased. She reached him, almost falling into his arms, holding onto him. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Bucky," she said. "Steve's here. So's Natasha."
He could feel himself pale, the blood draining from his face. "What?"
"They don't know you're here, but they're looking for you."
He took a step back. "I-I..."
"Bucky, it's okay. They don't know you're here, and if you don't want them to, they never will. Are you ready to face him?"
He was shaking his head. The last time he had seen Steve Rogers, he had almost killed him. There were still memories he was missing, and honestly, he wasn't sure if he wouldn't have a breakdown and try to fight him. If he saw the same people he had fought them, he'd have to face what he had done, all of it. He looked up at Cara's face, and he knew that whatever he did, she would be by his side.
"No," he said. "No, I'm not ready."
"Alright," she said, nodding. "I won't let them find you."
She grabbed his hand, pulling him down the narrow hall. She stopped, opening up a narrow door, and pushed him in. It was a tiny store room, barely big enough for him and Cara. Despite that, she pressed in close, shutting the door behind them. His back hit the wall, palms pressed flat against it. She looked up at him, and they were close, closer than they had been since she had told him who she was. He could feel her breath on his neck, and the faint warmth of her skin. A song played through the speakers above them, the voice and instruments dull and distorted, and some part of his brain that wasn't very distracted picked them up.
"Blanket of silence
Makes me want to sink my teeth in deep
Burn all the evidence
Of fabricated disbelief."
"How long do we have to stay here?" he murmured.
"I don't know," she said, just as quietly.
"Pull back the curtains
Took a lookinto your eyes
My tongue has now become
A platform for your lies."
The train gave a sudden rock, and Bucky's hand lashed out, holding onto the wall. The other went around her waist as she fell into him. They were closer than before. She looked back up him, and her lips parted slightly.
"Wait," she said suddenly, as realization dawned in her eyes. "Did I try to kiss you last night?"
"You don't remember?" he said, blinking in surprise. Did she remember what she said? Did she remember that she told him that she loved him?
"No."
"You did."
She looked away from him. "Shit. Sorry."
"You were drunk, it didn't mean anything."
"I don't want to put you in a position like that," she said. "I shouldn't have done that."
"Like what?"
"You... You said you didn't know me. To you, I'm a stranger. I will not put you in a position like that. After everything, I will not do that to you."
"I'mstuck here in between
Theshadows of my yesterday
I want toget away
I need to get away."
He watched her. The light was dull in here, casting shadows over her face. She stared at her hand on his chest. For the first time since she had punched the mirror, she looked absolutely miserable. No, this was the first time he was catching her looking absolutely miserable. Something tugged in his heart, while the voice in his head said not to care, that she had hurt him. It didn't matter.
"The reason nothing happened last night was that you were drunk, and I'm not going to take advantage of someone like that," he said, and the words felt heavy on his tongue. She glanced up at him, and all that sadness was hidden behind a mask of emptiness. "It wasn't because I don't know who you are. Sometimes, I can see her. Who you pretended to be, I mean. But you're not pretending now, you have no reason to, and that's... That shouldn't be right. You're not like them, not like me. I can't forgive you. I don't think I can forgive anyone who was a part of that, or who lied to me. But there's a part of you, a part of Cara Fox in your head. You're her, just like you said. You're the last part of her I have left."
She gaze him a look with an expression he couldn't decipher. "You're a good person, Bucky Barnes."
You're so wrong about that, Cara Fox. But neither are you. The only difference is, you have a chance. You're not so far gone. You can get better. You are getting better.
"The altar's callin'
But my legs won't seem to stand
GuessI'm a coward
Scared to face the man I am."
Before he knew it, he was kissing her. She was clearly surprised, but recovered quickly. Her fingers trailed lightly up chest, his neck, over his jaw, sliding into his hair. She pressed him back harder the wall, teeth and tongue grazing over his lip. He gave a faint hum, hands falling down to her hips, pulling her closer, as close as she could be.
She pulled away just enough so that she could murmur against his lips. "You are a good person, Bucky Barnes. You are a good man, a good person."
"You're wrong, Cara-"
She shut him up with another kiss. His heart was beating in time to the song, it felt like a drum and this didn't feel real.
"Now, you know, yeah you gotmy back against the wall,
Oh God,I ain't got no other place to hide,
Chained down,like a sitting duckjust waiting for the fall,
You know, yeahyou got my back against the wall."
He wondered if this was bad. He knew that things between them weren't fixed, and he knew in the long run, this would probably make it worse, but had started it, and he wasn't going to stop now, any consequences were on him.
The door swung open sharply, and light flooded in. His head snapped up, as Cara spun around. A woman stood there, arms crossed, the light behind her making it hard to see her face. Bucky's hand began to move subtly to the gun under his jacket.
"I should have known it was you," the woman said.
"Natasha," Cara said. "Natasha, wait-"
The woman stepped in, and her face become clear. Bucky recognized her as the woman from the bridge. Something else pulled at the back of his mind, but he pushed it down, unwilling to have any memories surface on this damn train.
"Do you have any idea about what Steve's been going through? About where Sam and him have gone, what they've had to do, what we've had to do?" she was saying.
"Natasha, please, let me explain-"
"And here you are, making out with him right under their noses. That is low, even for you, Cara Fletcher. That is low."
"It's not like that," Cara said.
"Yeah. What's it like then?" Natasha said.
"Do they know he's here?" Cara said, and he could hear a quiet desperation in her voice. Her hands blindly sought out his, and it felt like she was guarding him from the world.
"Not yet, but they might," she said. "Depending on how well you sell your case."
Cara turned around, and looked up at Bucky. She was panicking a little. "Bucky, stay here. I'll take care of this. It'll be okay. I promise. I'll fix this."
He was silent, but squeezed her hands, and nodded. She nodded back, and leaned up, lightly kissing his cheek, before she turned, and walked out, and left leaving him alone in the dark.
A/N: Well there's some drama. Drama everywhere. It's the drama train. yay.
The song is Back Against the Wall by Cage the Elephant, which I have been dying to use, and worked wonders for the chapter. I did a songfic thing, and only highlighted a few phases for attention. I really hope that not annoying, but at least I didn't put the whole song in.
If you don't know, it's my annual "cry during December finals time", so updates may be slightly later. Also I may die haha lol i'm dead on the inside. pray for my poor mortal senior soul, so that i can escape this four year hell.