"Woah," the girl muttered at a marching band covered in fleur-de-lises until she saw a new sight, pulling on James' sleeve. "What're those boys doing? It doesn't look very...smart."
James turned, halfway paying attention until he realized that a group of college students, who had clearly drank more than their fill, were trying to take off their pants. He immediately put a hand over her eyes and pulled her away.
"Don't you look at stuff like that," he scolded, getting a pout from her in return. This city was way too distracting for him to look for possible threats and trying to keep Millie from seeing more than she needed at the age of twelve.
Millie's blue eyes were wide as they walked through the city, her hands in each of her parent's. Bucky halfway dragging her and Genevieve trying to hurry her but at the same time trying to explain the city. The parades for Mardi Gras began two weeks before the holiday even started. Beads rained down from the balconies overhead and the sound of screams and beer kegs pooling down onto the ground flowed around them.
Genevieve pulled them into an alley as the crowds were distracted by a giant float of purple pansies and yellow tulips surrounded by green foliage in the shape of a tragedy mask. He pulled Millie into his arms as they walked through, the sound of trumpets blaring behind them.
"Your house isn't in this commotion is it?" He asked with furrowed brows. She speed ahead if him and grabbed his arm by the material of his hoodie. She was reading the numbers of the apartments on the adjacent street as they got back into the parade crowds. Millie grabbed a string of plastic purple beads from a young girl flinging them off a balcony.
She bit her lip before pointing to houses and reading the numbers to herself, "unless they changed the streets. No. The French Quarter doesn't have as much of the parade because it's so small. Just Canal Street."
He shot her a look. "It'll be harder to hide otherwise." She nodded as she speed up her pace, pulling her beanie over strands of hair that slipped through the knitting. They passed a slew of expensive homes and balcony apartments, people throwing money and fake jewels onto the streets. Laughing jeweled masks in deep tones stared back at him, mocking him in their jester hats, riddled with chiming bells. He froze momentarily, looking at the joy through the streets. The lack of care. Women pulling their tank tops down for plastic necklaces to be thrown their way. Children running with handfuls of beads through the streets with face paint smeared across their smiling faces. Millie put her hand to his face, the beads rubbing against his stubble. It was a small gesture, even when she whispered "Papa", that he smiled at. Genevieve stood at a crossing, gesturing for them to follow with a set of keys in her hands. Bucky jogged up to her as they ran through the quiet streets. She turned into another alley though this one was closed off by a wrought iron fence covered in ivy and blooming flowers.
"This is it," she said, yanking away the entangled flowers and opening the gate. They stood in a decaying courtyard, overrun with vines and wildflowers, a moss covered fountain that was decorated with tiny dancing cherubs laid in the center. Their curls chipped away and their dimples sanded away from the corrosion.
Millie shuffled down from her father's hip and ran up to her mother who was unlocking a large glass door. She touched the small stain glass designs that were embedded into it, her hands becoming an array of bright colors. Pink engulfing parts of her face while other areas danced with geometric shapes of blues, greens, and golds. James walked around the brick enclosed courtyard looking for any sign of HYDRA surveillance, his hands against the walls, feeling for any hidden wires amongst the vines.
Genevieve shushed Millie by placing a finger against her lips as she opened the lanterns next to the door. Bucky meet her gaze as she pulled out a small microphone, breaking it between her fingers.
They both scanned the dusty old house, pulling apart the lights and listening for creaking floorboards while Millie sat on a step outside the door. The house was covered in cobwebs, the furniture covered in white cloth. Genevieve went back for her once they were sure it was safe.
It was a large house, Millie walked through the foyer and upstairs to the two bedrooms. One door was locked so she went into the other room, it was covered in doilies and floral patterns. It just left old.
Bucky and Genevieve followed her, pulling away the sheets throughout the house and putting them against the windows' trimmings with some nails and a hammer.
Genevieve walked to a store while they cleaned what they could. Bucky went to the basement door only to find it was locked.
"Another locked door?" She said to him. "Mama took her keys."
"She did." She looked up at him and then to the door. "Don't. Don't even ask, Millie."
"But- Papa-"
"No."
"You can open it," she held his metal hand. He kept shaking his head throughout her persistent asking until she fell asleep on the couch, dropping a dirty rag on the floor. Bucky took a jacket out of his bag and placed it over her body, tiny hands held onto the collar and nestled in it. He sat on an adjacent armchair, staring at the basement door with his eyes drooping.
Bucky's tired eyes jumped to the red-headed woman as she walked in hours later with a bag of groceries and a bag of cleaning supplies. He saw her through the arch the connected the living room to the kitchen. She placed the bags on the counter and went to the basement door.
"It took you that long?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I scoped out the area." She turned to Millie passed out on the couch. "When did she fall asleep?"
"About an hour after you left," he replied, watching the key twist in the lock. "We need to switch the water on and the breaker." She called him over, explaining how everything except the water was off the grid and showed him how to use the generator which she had built herself using technology based off of Nikola Tesla. He wasn't sure about all of it but understood enough to use it if she wasn't around.
She grabbed a pair of gloves and a set of flashlights off the side of the wall before descending down the dark steps with him. They were both cautious as their flashlights shined throughout the hallway and into the basement itself. It smelled of mold as they went down until they felt dirt under their boots. The light illuminated a cage made of diamond fencing that could've been used for a large dog, Genevieve placed a plastic sheet on the floor and pulled out a cold metal chair.
Bucky knew what it was for and they shared a look as if to say 'I hope we don't need that.' She gulped down hard as she locked the cage and walked into a dark alcove surrounded by brick pillars; she pulled up a metal door from the floor. He watched as she fixed the generator as he switched on the water.
"What is this place?" He asked.
"An elderly woman lived here and needed a caregiver; there was an ad in the newspaper. I didn't know myself after everything that we went though. Bits and pieces," she pulled a string and the light bulb shot to life. "She died in the late seventies. Always called me an 'old soul' during the years I cared for her. I mean really," she grimaced, pinching the bridge of her nose. He laughed at that. They walked back up the stairs, locking the door behind them and then to the second floor were the bedrooms where. She opened her bedroom door. He felt like he was walking back in time. The white curtains, books in piles, dried herbs lining the windows. She leaned against the table in the middle of the room.
Even a small furnace in the corner of the room under a window. He saw there were no battle plans, no Nazi or HYDRA insignias; there was a peace here.
The war felt over in this space. Her war was over.
He saw by the door a wall covered in sketches and photographs. She held in her hands a photograph reel, pulling the tape from the wall. It was old, black and white, and wrinkled at the edges. It was Bucky in his uniform and her wearing a white blouse and black skirt with his navy blue coat. She sat down on a wooden chair, reminiscing.
He pointed to a woman and asked who she was, noting she was one of the few on the way but more care had been taken in sketching her features.
"Mary Wollstonecraft," she said shaking her head in embarrassment. "She was my first love. A bit of an accident, really." He had a thought flicker.
"Then Lord….Byron?" He asked, pulling the name from thin air. She nodded with a smile that he didn't quite understand.
"My love life was full of aristocracy with different ideas than the norm. I did dress as a man until the beginning of the 1900's. Isn't too much of a shock." She sighed, thinking back on everything she could remember.
Her hazel eyes followed Bucky's frame as plopped onto the sheet covered bed, curling up. Grabbing one of her hoodies she draped it over him.
She switched the light off as his eyes shut, entering a restless sleep which she understood all too well. Taking his example she curled up on the armchair next to Millie, tucking her hands under her thighs and placing her feet up on the upholstery. She laid facing the back of it, her wavy hair flowing down as she chucked her beanie across the room.
