Hi everyone! Sorry for the long hiatus, but hey, I'm in quarantine for the next two weeks so I thought I would get some writing done. I accidentally deleted this story on my computer, so I'm having to pick it up from scratch. As always, please review!
Roddy clicked 'end' on his phone and tried to silently slip it back in his jacket pocket. He peered above the stack of pallets he was hiding behind in some back alley in Bucharest, hoping he had finally given Bucky - no, The Winter Soldier - the slip. Confident that the dark haired assassin was nowhere to be found he stood up, intending to find his way to the embassy and work on getting back to the States. He stopped when he felt cool metal pressed up against the back of his head.
"One more time," He heard Bucky's low, gravelly voice, "Who are you?"
Roddy slowly turned so he was facing the gun straight on. Something inside him cracked at the look in Bucky's eyes. The man was lost, he looked deranged. "My name is Rodger McCaulliffe," Roddy spoke as calmly as possible. "We're friends, Bucky. Something - something's happened that I can't explain."
"How do you know that name?" Bucky asked harshly and stepped closer to Roddy, pressing the gun further against Roddy's forehead.
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes." Roddy spoke with more confidence, but still kept his voice low and even. "You were born in New York in 1920-something. You fought in World War Two and for the past seventy years have been a prisoner of-"
Roddy abruptly stopped as Bucky pushed against him more with a growl and backed him against the brick wall. "Who sent you?" Bucky's voice was barely above a whisper.
"No one." Roddy insisted. "Bucky you-" He tried to think of something to convince Bucky that he meant no harm. "You had a sister. In Brooklyn. After we were done in Egypt you and I were going to look her up and see what happened to her after you left for the front. Her name was Rebecca."
Bucky kept the gun trained on Roddy, but backed up. The archaeologist resisted the urge to rub at what he was sure would be a gun barrel shaped bruise on his head.
"Why don't I remember you?" Bucky studied Roddy intensely.
"I don't know." Roddy still kept an even voice, like he was trying to placate a wild animal. "But your friend Steve and my little sister might be in trouble, I need you to trust me."
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Bucky lowered his gun. Roddy was not so naive to think that meant he was out of danger yet.
"Steve?" Bucky sounded less gravelly the more Roddy got him to talk, like his voice was just getting used to be used again.
"Yes." Roddy nodded his head. "Steve Rogers. We were all working together and then, something happened. Something I can't explain."
Bucky narrowed his eyes and looked keenly around the alley. "C'mon." He jerked his head to the left. "You're going to tell me everything you know."
I held my phone close and stared at Steve. Steve, the man that I had grown to love, the man I was going to move to New York with and plan a future with. He looked, not confused, but like he was working on a jigsaw puzzle that was missing pieces.
"Lucy." He said my name carefully. "I remem-"
We suddenly were thrown together as a loud explosion shook the coffee shop. I closed my eyes and felt Steve protectively cover me with his arms. When I opened my eyes something was wrong. The pleasant scent of Cafe Lincoln was gone and replaced with a pungent, damp odor mud and gunpowder. I looked up and saw explosions in the sky above us and the yelling of hasty commands from men in green uniforms.
"No." Steve whispered out then looked down at me. "Lucy?"
"You remember me?" Despite our situation a glimmer of hope blossomed deep in my chest. We were pressed completely together in a kind of ditch. In response Steve leaned in and pressed a searing kiss to my lips, only parting when we heard the crackling of a radio.
"Cap? Come in! What's your position?" Steve's head shot up and he grabbed the antiquated device.
"Morita?" Steve practically breathed the name into the device, a look of pure shock on his face. "Is that really you?"
"Um, yes?" The confused voice on the end responded. "Captain, Sarge is freaking out. He lost sight of you and no one can find ya. What's your position?"
"I'm..." Steve finally took a moment to look around us. "I think I'm in a mostly collapsed trench. That's all I got for ya."
The hurried sounds of an argument broke out on the other end of the radio. "Stand by." Came an irritated voice. Overhead the sounds of explosions and screaming had died down.
"Are we in the war?" I searched Steve's eyes an answer. How this was possible, or why it was happening, were completely lost on me.
Steve looked at me with worry. "Germany. I think." He held me closer to himself. "Stay close to me, no matter what."
We heard a vehicle approaching and Steve pushed me behind him and took up a defensive stance. He relaxed only slightly when a burly red-headed soldier jumped into the pit with us. "When the hell did you have time for a wardrobe change?" The man spoke around a cigar firmly planted on the side of his face and lowered the gun he was holding.
"Dugan!" Steve exclaimed with a broad smile.
"Who's the girl?" The soldier - Dum Dum Dugan, I surmised, one of the infamous Howling Commandos - nodded in my direction.
"This is," Steve hesitated and turned towards me with a determined look. "Let's just get her back to base."
I was abruptly lifted out of the dirt and on to a jeep, the likes of which I had only seen in books and reenactments. Steve spoke rapidly with Dugan and the driver, Sam Sawyer. I wrapped my arms around my middle, maybe in shock, and tried to piece together what exactly was happening. We had traveled back in time. Back to when Steve and Bucky were soldiers. All around me was evidence of the war. We flew past rolls of barbed wire and downed trees. The air around me was thick with a film of morning dew and remnants of gunpowder. We weren't so much driving on a road as a dirt bike bath and I caught myself nearly falling out more than once. At last, we came to a small village filled with bustling soldiers and personnel.
I followed Steve and the others to a brick cottage where he was immediately pulled into crowd of embraces and backslaps. "What, you disappear for a night and bring dame back to base with you?"
I woke up from my shock and zeroed in on Bucky's familiar voice. "What's your name, doll? What are you doing in a place like this?"
Bucky was standing in front of me. Only he looked...different. Younger, not so much innocent, but certainly not the tortured man that I had come to know. His hair was cut short and his face was clean shaven.
"Lucy," I barely managed to squeak out my own name. "McCaulliffe."
"You Irish?" Bucky narrowed his eyes at me. I looked to Steve for help, but he seemed to still be in shock as well and hadn't noticed our exchange.
"Chicago." I replied flatly, deciding to tell as much of the truth at possible. "My grandparents were Irish." It occurred to me that Grandma and Grandpa McCaulliffe were probably just settling into Chicago as a newlywed couple as we spoke. My father not even a thought in their heads for another decade.
"So what's a nice Chicago girl like you doing deep in Nazi territory?" Bucky leaned his shoulder against a wall and crossed his arms. He was trying to look casual but I realized he interrogating me. Looking for any crack in my story that could indicate I was lying.
"I was-" I faltered and Bucky raised an eyebrow at me, thankfully I was saved by Steve.
"Buck. She's a wasp." Steve made his way past the other commandos, who now were all entirely focused on me.
"A wasp." I crinkled my eyebrows in confusion, the term sounded familiar but my brain wasn't catching up.
"Women's Air Force Service Pilot." Steve said pointedly, although he kept his gaze leveled on Bucky. "She was testing a plane and her navigation went out. She went down near that base we were raiding, I barely got to her before HYDRA."
The cover story had plenty of holes, the least of which being my complete inability to fly an airplane, but must have seemed plausible enough to the others. Except for Bucky who looked like he wanted to challenge Steve. A small smile tugged at the corner of Bucky's lips and he drew in a breath to say more but was stopped.
"You know," A woman's voice with a strong British accent came from behind the commandos. They all dispersed rapidly and a petite woman with brown curly and red lipstick appeared carrying the Captain America shield. "Stark isn't going to be too happy when he finds out you're leaving your toys all over the countryside." She shoved the shield back towards Steve with a pointed look and small smile.
For his part, Steve seemed to have lost the ability to speak. He stood frozen in place holding his shield and staring at the woman. "Peggy?" He finally managed to speak and her name sounded like a prayer.
