As the Sky May Fall EirlysLavellan
The Avengers Marvel Comics
~0~
Summary: Alice was always so sure of the way her life was going to go, however, her entire perspective is changed upon being forcibly added to the Avengers. After the Invasion of New York things quickly change and she realizes that everything she thought she was, is nothing close to what she ever imagined especially when she realizes that the man she had thought was dead turns out to be forcibly working for HYDRA as their Winter Soldier. She swears she will do anything to keep him safe even if that means going against the new family she has built.
Disclaimer: I am a poor college grad and am receiving no payment whatsoever to write this fiction. If I was, in fact, getting paid for this, I would not be a poor college graduate that I can assure you. All rights are reserved to Marvel, D.C. Comics, and Walt Disney Pictures and Columbia Studios as well as the amazing screenwriters, directors and producers, and actors who created this film. I only own the subplot as well as Alice Alexander and any other unrecognizable character throughout the plot.
Story Type: OC-Insert – Slight AU/Fix-it come Endgame
Main Pairing: Eventual Bucky/OC
Other Pairings: Slight Nat/Cap, Maria/OC and OC/OC
Rating: M
Warning: Spoilers, character death, violence, suggestive themes (such as sexual assault/self-harm/depression) and vulgarity.
Author's Note: Hey there y'all and welcome back! Just a few things before we begin, this chapter was a last minute addition to the story – no joke – it didn't exist until about a week ago because in the middle of the night after posting chapter 17 I kinda had this epiphany of: "what if we got to see what's going on with Bucky, since we're being starved of him!?" and well this is the answer to that. There's a LOT of flashbacks ahead so I know this is going to be a huge mess as far as structure is concerned. I apologize in advance for the continuous jumping around, but try to go into with the mind that we're really experiencing this from Bucky's perspective!
I won't lie and say this was an easy chapter to write because it was probably one of the most difficult ones to read because it kept kicking in my real life ADD so if you are ADD or ADHD please take your time and take a walk if necessary…lord knows I needed to a few times just to write it lmao! My end note is gonna be super short so I'm putting a lot of stuff here this time – I know weird, but I felt it was necessary considering you kinda needed the forewarning before diving right in! With all of that said, let's get to my thank yous and review replies from those who might not have an account here on FF to get a private response!
As always a special thank you to: simmerandcry, Brie, Guest, Lara, Terra and everybodyhurts for their lovely reviews!
*If you don't have an account no worries just leave me a name in your review and I'll answer you in the beginning of the chapter! For anyone who has an account I always shoot you a PM as soon as FF allows me to see the post ;)*
Also a HUGE thank you to everyone else that has favorited and followed this here story of mine. I hope you all enjoy and please don't forget to R&R!
Brie - For sure! She and Steve are definitely two sides of the same coin and as you said they are definitely stronger together than they are apart. Over the next few chapters especially we're gonna see just how that applies as the two begin to work through the best approach to take with Bucky for the future as well as how they handle things individually. I'll warn you now and say that we're about to see two very different sides to them here and I'm honestly so undeniably excited to get to let you all see it! Anyway, thank you again for your review and as I'm sure you've been waiting eagerly, here is the next chapter :)
Guest – Hi and welcome to the family! Thank you SO MUCH for your review and I'm so immeasurably happy that you're enjoying the story so far! And believe me; I can't wait to show you more Bucky even if it's an angsty chapter like we have ahead of us! I hope you enjoy as the entire chapter is about him and told from his perspective! Thank you again for your review and I hope you enjoy!
Lara – Oh gosh no worries! Don't ever feel guilty about missing a review on a chapter, lol; we all have busy lives believe me! Thank you for your review of chapter 16 and 17! I'll reply based on 16 first and then 17, because you brought up a really good point in your review of chapter 16.
You're definitely not wrong in your example of the two of them, lol. Steve and Alice have very different ways of handling things for sure – it's kinda like the old adage of familiarity breeds contempt with these two as they tend to lash out at one another without actually meaning to. And gosh no! It's not bad at all, in fact, if this hadn't turned into a Bucky/OC from the original Loki/OC fic it had been intended to be I would have 100% made this a Sam/OC. Sam is such an underrated character and I love him…so that tends to bleed in when I write so I have to make a conscious effort to not lay it on too thick and keep it friendly because ultimately Alice is her own person and not a self-insert by any means lol.
Yes, Megan Batoon is Filipino in real life and I picked her for a few different reasons. The first was that she was the closest person in real life that I felt fit the way I pictured Alice almost completely and the cadence, tone and unique grit of her voice and her overall personality definitely fit the way I had pictured Alice pre-trauma and recent sound and especially in the 1940s…we'll see that more eventually. I can't say too much without spoiling stuff for later in the story but Alice's ethnicity – as far as she's aware – is Scottish, English and American (the latter for all intents and purposes). William Alexander comes from Scottish decent as both of his parents were Scottish immigrants and Sarah Livingston, like William, was born in the colonies but was of British decent…at least to my knowledge historically speaking.
Laura is such an underrated character (I have a theme clearly) and I really wanted to breathe new life into her because she wasn't in Age of Ultron long enough to really show why she and Clint are together (I'm looking at all the Clintasha shippers out there lol). Laura very clearly represents the opposite side of a marriage/partnership of a service member be it military/first responder/police/etc. She raises Lila and Cooper without really knowing whether or not Clint will come home and yet she still supports him and understands that while he doesn't have the super powers, the team needs him to keep them balanced as – let's be honest – Clint is the most normal one there and that's comics included. But I'm glad you enjoyed my portrayal of her!
The file…was completely made up. The details of the file I couldn't find no matter how much I dug online for it and so I decided to just run with it. Lol, no secrets, but to be completely honest it comes from looking at what was done to Bucky and how long it took to break him down as well as the medical advances of the time with a little comic book twist. In my head there's a lot that was done to him and I doubt his body integrated successfully with the metal prosthetic immediately and probably took a few times before his body accepted it successfully and then we know he was given a serum of some kind because that's cannon both in the MCU and in the comics. WHEW! All that said thank you again for your reviews and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!
Terra – I know and I'm so sorry! I promise you the chapters will get a wee bit happier soon as I have a few fun filler chapters planned before we get into my surprise non-MCU tie in and Age of Ultron! Thank you for your review and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!
WHEW now that we're here, on to the story beauties~!
As the Sky May Fall
Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Chapter 18
Early June
1 week after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D
6 Days on the run from HYDRA
Longing.
Dark brows pinched over closed eyes as the word echoed in his mind, sweat beading across his forehead and dampening long strands of dark hair. His muscles twitched violently, the gears in his left arm whirring with the need to be used as if the machine needed to respond with the impulses in his brain with every contraction and spasm. The concrete beneath him left chills shooting up and down his spine as his fevered skin met the cool stone while his nerves felt frayed and like exposed wires, his blood running hot as if liquid mercury replaced it. He turned violently in his sleep, eyes moving frantically beneath his eyelids and wincing at each wave of ice that seemed to pierce his skin. Longing: the word they used to start the Winter Soldier programming and a word they found fitting to use to describe how he had been forced into the life HYDRA had provided for him, how he wished so desperately to return to when times were simpler – when he wasn't the Asset, their Winter Soldier.
Rusted.
A word to describe how they had completely ruined his reputation. They allowed him to be portrayed a hero – children learned how James Buchanan Barnes was Captain America's side kick and was a Howling Commando and so too had he. His memory still failed him, but since visiting the Smithsonian, his mind supplied him with flashes so brief it only served to frustrate him. A whine escaped his lips unbidden in his sleep as he rolled onto his side, his muscles seizing and his fingers twitching. Rusted: he was certain the word meant tarnished. If what he had learned at that god-awful museum had been accurate he should be well into his 90s, but the man who had stared back at him from that exhibit had been the same he caught glimpses of in widows and broken glass.
Seventeen.
An old apartment appeared in his vision, near dilapidated, but inviting and warm. An older woman stood in the kitchen with greying mousey brown hair and eyes as blue as an ocean after a storm and ushered two other children to the table, holding a third at her hip, "Jaime, come it's your birthday! Why don't you ask Steven if he'd like to join us?" The memory disappeared as soon as it had appeared, but he knew who she was – or who she was supposed to be. James's mother, if he recalled the exhibit at the Smithsonian correctly – which had meant that the girls in the memory had been his sisters. Seventeen, the year he had been born.
Daybreak.
He turned once more, his chest heaving with each activation word he remembered, his body shuddering and pawing at the shirt he had managed to steal and finding it suddenly constricting. The metal that met his flesh seemed to ache with memory as if recalling surgery, after surgery, after surgery he had underwent before his body took to the cold plates that would replace what remained of flesh and bone and muscle and nerves. Desperately he scratched at it, unsatisfied as his nails were too short to offer any relief and his fingers thwarted by the cotton of the t-shirt and henley he had stolen. Daybreak: a new beginning. It had been something that HYDRA had given him whether he wanted it or not – in fact, he had fought it for nearly twenty years before they had succeeded in his seeming rebirth. Bucky Barnes died in 1945 and again, and again, and again until 1965 where he no longer existed and only the Winter Soldier remained despite his every attempt to keep his mind his own. Stripped away until nothing remained, but a strong sense of following order after order to the letter; if he could not stop himself from following orders, he could prevent the deaths of those not known to HYDRA in hopes that one day they would be taken out and he be freed.
Furnace.
Fire licked at the seam between man and metal and his fingers dug more desperately in an effort to find relief, but none would come as another chill wracked his flushed body. He flipped violently onto his other side, his legs tucking into himself as his right hand clenched at his metal shoulder. Furnace was the easiest word for him to remember, to decipher as it was how his arm was created and it was how he had been told time and time again he would be disposed of should the need ever arise and his usefulness run out. To him it had meant something much different as it served to remind him of his defiance and his yearning for freedom even as the Winter Soldier. How long had it been since his mind was his own? How long had it been since he had been thawed out and put on-mission once again? Despite the uneasy sleep, memories flashed before his eyes again and he was able to picture a young, well-groomed man with bright eyes and a carefree smile – a smile that came easily, he seemed to recall and fire licked at his insides. He wanted to be that man – a man not burdened with pain.
Nine.
He flinched in his uneasy sleep as the symbol of his handlers, the skull with nine tentacles, flashed on top of the other images dancing behind his eyes. He turned his face against the concrete; his brow pinching deeply as another whine echoed passed clenched teeth and parted lips without his consent. Despite being in the uneasy sleep he found no matter how much he tried to awaken he couldn't as he was forced to review each and every image he had seen for the last week since his escape. The wind howled through the broken windows of the warehouse he had commandeered as his shelter for that evening, but otherwise the night was silent. Trapped in his mind, he was forced to relive the same memories. Ones where a man who looked like the man in the Smithsonian laughed, played, kissed, swooned, danced or fought; every smell, touch or taste seemed to linger more potent than the last – names he didn't immediately recognize or places he barely remembered seeing all lining up as if showing him what he was missing and the pieces he so desperately was trying to fit back into the larger picture.
Benign.
A woman flashed before his eyes like a crack of lightening that could illuminate a night sky – her smile warm and her touch gentle. "As the sky may fall…" She whispered, lips parting with a smile as she danced around his mind. He could nearly smell her – a trail of vanilla, clove and touch of cinnamon left in her wake as she disappeared from one flashing memory to the next with warm eyes dancing. She was his most prominent specter. Every time he would nearly catch her, the woman would disappear leaving that ever present smell in her wake. He couldn't picture what she looked like, not completely anyway, only her smile and her eyes framed by dark waving hair that seemed to tickle his cheeks or brush his arm every time he wasn't aware of her in a memory. His handlers had had a sick sense of humor, he decided early on as her image had been used against him numerous times throughout his early containment and training.
"Do you know who she is, Sergeant Barnes?" The Swiss doctor would ask, smiling victoriously every time he forgot something about her: what she sounded like, her favorite book or color, her touch, what her name was – it was always about her it seemed. "She is benign, a balm to the wound and so she shall be a piece to be held over you." The doctor had laughed. Benign: the word used to describe the woman whose words echoed in his mind for a time, thoughts narrated by her that pushed him to continue fighting. Warmth seemed to settle in his chest and allowed him a brief reprieve from the pain assaulting his body. Any time he recalled her, without his handlers around, she always seemed to bring with her a quiet that allowed his mind a moment of clarity before the horrors would begin anew.
Homecoming.
The one thing he would never have, he learned early on under HYDRA's influence. No matter how many times he had thought to disobey orders or run away, he was always reminded by his handlers that he would never receive the hero's welcome he so rightfully deserved. He would never walk freely in the world no matter how desperately he craved freedom like an animal caged. His body began to shiver once more as a cool breeze swept over his sweat-soaked form, strands of hair sticking to his face as he turned almost as if attempting to bury his face into the stone beneath him, his back bending as his knees bore his weight and his right hand still clenching desperately around the metal plates that made up his left shoulder.
"Where would you call home, if it couldn't be Brooklyn?" A feminine voice asked and again he caught the whiff of vanilla and cloves.
"I dunno," The man from the Smithsonian replied with a shrug, "would it be ostentatious of me to say wherever you'd be, Doll?"
Full lips tugged into an amused smirk, warm and honeyed eyes arching, "You're a real charmer, Sarge. If I didn't know any better, and I do, I'd say you were doing more than merely flirting with me."
"That obvious?" He laughed, eyes closing in his amusement, "I'd never tell ya what you can and can't do, Nurse…but maybe somewhere where you can see the mountains…always liked 'em despite not bein' able to see 'em in the City. My Ma and Pops always took us upstate to the Catskills just to get that good fresh air!"
"Somewhere with mountains, huh?" She inquired, dark hair curtaining her face from his view. "That settles it. We'll see the Grand Canyon and then we'll go where there are glorious mountains!"
"Together?"
"Together," She replied with a wide smile.
One.
The first of six Winter Soldiers meant to act at a moment's notice and on the whim of their masters.
Freight car.
"NO!"
The roar burst forward with in time with his torso, his arm dropping from his shoulder and bracing his body before his back bent once again and resting his forehead against the cold ground beneath him. His chest heaved as if he had been deprived of oxygen and limbs twitching with the energy to move while his body remained in place. He didn't need to recall the memory of the last word as it always lingered along the edges of his mind. The sound of a train passing by had been enough to break him from the dream and remind him of his fear of the transport. Even while brainwashed and under the influence of HYDRA he had been terrified of trains and he suspected that no amount of erasure would ever get rid of that adrenal response. He could remember each and every time, as the Asset, where he had been forced to use trains as transport and each time had left him with undue anxiety despite remaining stoic and trained like a circus pet. He snarled at the mental comparison he had given himself before running his flesh hand down his face and returning his discarded baseball cap to his head and snatching the jacket he had stolen. It was time to move, despite the late hour and he knew he would not be able to return to sleep.
The clattering of the train along the tracks disappeared and silence encompassed the area once again as he slung a bag of meager supplies back over his shoulder. His mind falling into another memory without his permission.
-0-
He had tracked the man known as Captain America – Steve, his mind supplied helpfully – and his two companions to a graveyard where they had met with his first target. He had been surprised to see the man alive and had wondered who these people were that they seemed to escape the wrath and focus of the Winter Soldier. He had begun referring to himself over the last seventy years as the Winter Soldier in an effort to differentiate who and what he was and for the last few days it seemed to work as his former conscious fought to the surface once more. He had watched as the woman with the familiar eyes stepped away from the two men and followed after the first – both clearly injured, but his surprise came when she seemed to walk unsteadily, her gait awkward and nearly boneless. As she passed by his hiding place he lowered the cap further on his head, using the brim to hide his features and the high collar of the jacket to create enough shadow that he would appear to be mourning a loved – an action that wasn't entirely unusual in such a setting. She hadn't paid him any mind and he found himself torn between being thankful and disappointed – though he wasn't sure why.
"Fury," She called, ignoring the two men who stared after her. The dark skinned man had looked on with a combination of concern and insight, as if he understood her need for privacy with the hooded man while the blonde – Steve, his mind insisted almost desperately – had looked on in something akin to sorrow and confusion. "I wanted to apologize to you."
The hooded man and the woman were closer to where he had been hiding and so he could hear and see them much more clearly than he could Steve and the other man, who had begun to speak to one another softly. His first target – Fury, his mind immediately seemed to correct, you just heard her say his name.
"What for?"
"For thinking the worst of you for so long," She had answered, "Pierce –" he growled softly at the name, his memory sharp at his most recent handler, "– told me that he had made you hunt me down…that you had gotten that assignment from him. After that I knew I couldn't hold you responsible and I wanted to thank you for being the one to put a bullet in his chest." She looked away from him, nodding briefly to the Widow – Natalia, his mind easily supplied; she had been his target on the bridge assigned to him by Pierce. He had taken the other agent out easily enough, but the Little Spider was always a difficult woman to pin down, even in the Red Room. She didn't notice anything amiss as she continued walking up to the two men of their team before the dark haired woman returned her gaze to Fury. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you either, considering you had believed him to be a friend."
"Alexander, if it's one thing I've learned in this business it's to wait until someone shows you their hand. If they're to be trusted, then they'll do so without ulterior motive." The former soldier paused, his brows pinching in confusion. Alexander was the name of the man that was his handler…but the one-eyed man was speaking to the woman. Last name, his mind supplied after a brief moment of thought, it must be a last name. Connection to the man is formal. He watched the interaction closely. Was he her superior? No, his mind seemed to whisper the analysis, their stance is informal – they've worked together before, but aren't friends… "You also had a lot to teach me about letting a little trust go a long way."
She snorted softly before offering him a small smile, "I suppose there's a lot we can still learn from each other."
"Well, like I said – I'm off to Europe tonight. As soon as you need me, you let me know."
"Same here, Fury," She said with an earnest expression, "I want to hunt these bastards down…they've made their intentions clear for what they want with me and if I can make it easier for Bucky to come back to a world that isn't painting targets on people, I'd feel better about it."
She was looking for him? His mind immediately flashed to the few days prior and remembered the beaten and battered woman that had shown him nothing but compassion – the woman who, without asking for anything in return, fixed his arm so that he had full mobility. He watched her suddenly much more closely, the determined lines to her soft features and a knowledge that seemed to rival the people around her. She stood awkwardly as if her body couldn't support her form, splotches of yellow and faded brown peppered her unusually blanched skin and around her right arm was a tight wrapping and he wondered what kind of wound it hid considering all of her other ailments seemed to have disappeared if he was remembering her correctly. What is she?
Fury frowned, "You know what you're looking to do is near impossible."
"Yeah…" She nodded in agreement and the former soldier almost scoffed, not sure if he was meant to be offended or proud that she realized he wouldn't simply be found, "... but if there's even a small chance at success I want to take it."
His brow pinched. Why was she so desperate to find him? What did she want? Why did she care?
The hooded man offered her a smile, "You know, Alexander. Once upon a time I would have recruited you for S.H.I.E.L.D without any type of motive other than you'd have made an exceptional agent."
She looked down and blushed, a small smile flickering at the edges of her mouth, "Funny how life works against what we want, huh?"
"Yeah…but my offer stands. Should you need anything you let me know."
"Keep your ears out, Fury." She advised with a small frown, "If you hear anything about him please don't hesitate to let me know."
He knew suddenly that he would need to cover his tracks, but his attention was pulled back to the conversation as the man's voice rumbled once more and he watched the exchange with acute focus.
"I will…and keep your head down if you can, Alexander." At the seriousness of Fury's tone the mutant met his eyes, "HYDRA isn't just looking for your man, but they're looking for you…they're gonna be desperate and I'd hate for something else to happen to you that could have been preventable."
She and the man exchanged a few more words and she had watched as he turned away offering him a small wave before he ducked into his car and disappearing. She had returned to the group and the former soldier made the decision to get just a bit closer to see what the group was discussing and he frowned as Natalia handed Steve a file, his enhanced eyesight immediately catching the Cyrillic letters on the front and in response his muscles tensed.
"That thing you asked for, I called in a few favors from Kiev." She was saying and glancing at the spindly brunette briefly as she stepped next to the taller woman, "Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse."
"She's not a nurse." The blonde man had replied almost instantly earning a look that the former soldier could only explain as being torn between exasperation and longing. Natalia, it seemed, liked the tall blonde, but she buried it deep and pinched her lips before speaking with false enthusiasm.
"And you're not a S.H.I.E.L.D agent."
The blonde man offered her a strained smile, almost reluctant and the former soldier interpreted the look as being more resigned. He returned the feelings, but was suppressing them and the look was almost familiar to him. "What was her name again?"
"Sharon. She's nice." She hesitated for a brief moment before stepping forward and placing a lingering kiss on his cheek before turning from them briefly – he had failed the Widow's test – "Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread." She warned him finally before stepping away and looking the smaller woman, "Be careful, Al…"
"You too, Nat," She offered the woman, "When you get reestablished drop a line, I could use a good workout."
"Will do."
So, the Widow was training her, the former soldier frowned as he watched the redhead walk away from the group. As she edged just out of sight, the blonde opened the file and the brunette briefly looked over his arm, glancing at the file and wincing, her eyes screwing shut for a moment before her eyes seemed to skim the words that made up the front document and he wondered if she knew what it said. He didn't know what was in that file, but he didn't plan on sticking around long enough to find out. The woman had promised to let him go and while she had fulfilled that promise, it was clear that she was going to do whatever it took to find him and he didn't feel comfortable with that knowledge. The man she believed him to be was not the same man and he felt fear of disappointment settle into his stomach. She had been kind to him, desperate almost for him to understand what she had been telling him, but it was clear she was someone from his past that was close to him and he realized he didn't want to disappoint her, scoffing almost immediately at the thought. What would someone like her – kind, patient, fearless in the face of the Winter Soldier, and benign – want with a monster like him?
"You're going after him."
"You don't have to come with us, Sam."
"I know," The dark skinned man offered a reassuring smile, his dark eyes bouncing from the patriot to the woman in earnest, "When do we start?"
"Are you going to be okay to help, Alice?"
She turned to look up at the blonde, brows pinching in offense, "I'm not dead, Steve." She turned her eyes to the other man, her face aloof and trained stoically, "I'm going back to Virginia tonight. When you get a chance just send me the file and I'll see what I can make of it."
"Sure thing, Pidge…you need a ride back or…?"
"I'll hitch a ride with Nat," She answered immediately, her shoulders lined with tension, "thanks though."
"Sure," Sam had replied, his tone conveying his confusion, but knowing enough not to ask, "don't be a stranger and drop a line when you're back."
"Will do. See you boys around."
Alice Alexander, he thought over her name after finally learning it the name nearly sounding familiar before shaking his head and disappearing before he could be spotted. He knew better than to stick around and over the last few days he had learned of an exhibit at the Smithsonian that would help him better understand the man who claimed to know him. If what the woman had said was true than she had known him as well and perhaps he could find information about her…he could certainly track her down and find her if necessary.
-0-
Bucky shook the memory from his mind, stepping out of the dilapidated structure that had served as his shelter for the last few hours and began making his way south. The woman in the memory and the woman that continued to haunt his memories, Benign he had begun to call her shadow and refusing to call her Alice, seemed to be the same person. His mind puzzled around this for a few moments, recalling the way the woman stood and the way she spoke in the last memory. She seemed tense and on edge albeit resigned and he couldn't figure out why. Focusing his eyes ahead he continued walking, keeping as much of his focus on where he was going and little attention to the images that still seemed to actively be playing around his mind's eye.
His mind over the last week had been unstable at best as his inner conscious seemed to release the dam that held his memories carefully in place, his control slipping periodically and forcing him to be active in avoiding nearly any type of social situation. He was constantly torn between fight and flight, a fear that he didn't understand constantly making him worry about what should happen to him should he be triggered or worse yet: what would happen to those around him. As an asset he didn't understand the fear that he had at hurting others, but he knew that he had always felt this way even after his mind had been turned to malleable clay for HYDRA to mold however they pleased.
He blew a scoff through his nose, hoisting his bag further up his back. The things consistently going through his mind was a war of self as he battled determining who he was on top of what everyone he had met recently expected him to be. Two days past he had decided to go by James to those who decidedly did not know if the Winter Soldier, but he would strive to be Bucky. In his mind he could nearly smell the scent of vanilla and clove, a combination that allowed warmth to flood his chest and spread nearly like a balm to his frayed nerves like a spiced chai on a cold winter's morning. A throaty alto, soft and slow whispered in the breeze comforting words as if pleased by his decision – encouraging him to continue learning.
"As the sky may fall," Benign would repeat gently as if reminding him to continue forward.
He shook his head, dismissing the ghostly smell and the susurrated alto that seemed to haunt him and he continued to walk as his mind faded back into memory to keep him company.
-0-
He watched from the tree line as the small woman, bruised and battered struggled to treat the man he had pulled from the river. "C'mon Steve don't make this difficult for me…" She tugged her shirt from her body, immediately pulling a knife from her belt and ripping the shirt into strips and exposing the array of colors that decorated her body. Deep purple settled into her flesh and robbing it of its usual color as if her skin was had been blanched. Her hair tumbled around her face and curtaining it from view, but now that she had been out of the water and the strands were drying, a halo of frizz seemed to follow her as she checked the man over. Cutting open the front of his uniform she made quick work of appraising the bullet wound he knew rested just off from his stomach and struggling to lift him as she began wrapping the strips of her shirt around the wound, cinching it tightly in place to stem the bleeding.
The woman worked quickly, her movements confident yet her hands trembled. He wondered if it was from adrenaline or fear before watching as she continued to work and what seemed to be moments could have nearly been a half hour before the sound of sirens echoed around the area. The Soldier tensed, concerned if for a brief moment that they were after him, but seeing that the vehicle that pulled up was merely an ambulance he felt his coiled muscles relax. Moments past as the EMTs arrived and helped the woman lift the blonde man onto the stretcher, the woman passing a brief glance around the area before snatching her jacket and tugging it over her exposed skin.
He waited long until they disappeared before allowing himself to relax long enough to consider his next course of action. He frowned as his mind struggled to piece together the last few hours and battling between misperception and self-flagellation as memories continued to flash before his eyes though he didn't allow himself to fixate long on his internal war as a squad car roared up the road and breaking him from his revere. Survival kicked in and the soldier quickly allowed himself to fall back into the mindset of an active warzone; his first and foremost priority was to gather supplies and change clothes. Though the weather was tepid, with the sun falling quickly beyond the horizon he knew it would become a chilly evening and he did not want to spend it in water-logged gear and so began making his way to where he knew an outpost would be – a place he was assigned to go if he couldn't make it back to the bank – that was centered in the middle of the woods. Moving with practiced ease and ignoring the twinging of pain in his right shoulder from where it had been dislocated, he made quick work of dispatching the two men inside and grabbing what appeared to be at one time a military issued Sea Bag, but simply appeared to his eyes as a duffle, and scavenged a spare set of clothes the men had in their own bags – checking the clothing and items and bag itself for tracers. Thankfully, HYDRA had never thought to outfit him with a tracer since he was programmed to return to any outpost or base if a job went sideways or one of his handlers were killed and could not bring them back themselves.
Bucky was simply lucky that his mind was more or less his own at the moment, though still fighting his initial programming. He decided then, after being satisfied at the amount of gear, rations and clothing he could find, that he would destroy the chair that made him into the Winter Soldier and that completely and utterly stole his autonomy. With a plan in mind, he was quick to leave and deciding to save the clothes he had stolen for after he completed his self-appointed mission.
It wasn't difficult for him to make his way back to the bank, his training giving him the ability to disappear and reappear as if a shifting shadow and made much easier due to the looming darkness of the evening. It had taken him a few hours to make it back to the bank, his mind set to appear as if he were still the soldier reporting after his failed mission. The man who greeted him appeared like every other HYDRA thug: crew cut hair, military issued gear and an AK47 and pistol, but he knew better. This man was named Adam Eisenberg and he could feel the surge of annoyance he had for the man. This man like to make play that he was a higher rank than he was and enjoyed sucking up to his superiors by any means necessary. He was going to enjoy crushing his skull between his hands.
"Mission report."
Bucky maintained his blank look, watching as the man shifted back and forth as if he were nervous. He knew the easiest way to ignite the man's temper was to remain silent and so silent he remained. It took a few moments, Bucky having surveyed the number of HYDRA grunts in the area upon entering and counting 6 – a laughable amount when faced with the Winter Soldier, before the man became impatient, a snarl curling at his lips.
"Mission report!"
Once Bucky was certain there were no other grunts that were lingering in the corners he allowed his face to change, watching with grim satisfaction as the man's face changed and before he could bring his gun up to focus on the soldier, Bucky was already moving with graceful ease of a predator. He knocked the automatic rifle out of the man's hands before landing an immediate and solid kick to the man's sternum and easily tossing him across the room before he was moving the next opponent. Instead of merely disarming this man he grabbed him by the arm, snapping the bones beneath his metal hand easily and tossing him into another grunt, watching with satisfaction as they fell to the ground. As the fourth grunt approached he blocked a strike aimed for his chest and spinning the grunt around and removing his pistol from its holster at the grunt's waist before firing three shots into the man's back where he knew his heart would be, spinning he shot the second and third who were still trying to find their feet in the forehead each. He spun once again, pistol whipping the fifth that had begun to approach from behind and blocking the strike of the last grunt with ease, snapping his neck for the man's trouble and firing his gun, resting three more slugs into the fifth grunt easily.
"Wait!"
Bucky turned sharply, nearly allowing a feral smirk to twitch at his lips but resisting the urge as he met Adam's eyes that were wide with fear, his breath heaving with difficulty no doubt he was suffering a collapsed lung and sternum from Bucky's initial strike.
"You…you're supposed to be compliant!"
"Not anymore," His voice was still rough with disuse, but the gravel to his tenor clearly had the other man shaking as he aimed his pistol and laying a slug in between his eyes.
After assessing the area once again and feeling confident that there were no other adversaries in the immediate area he turned, his eyes taking in the metal chair that was meant to wipe his memories – a process that was not without pain that he could at least remember. Rage suddenly burned in him from his gut and seemed to spread like wildfire – unbridled and ceaseless and with a roar he began ripping apart the chair with as much strength as he could muster and continuing to ignore the ache in his right shoulder his determination and adrenaline winning out over his pain. With the chair dismantled and in broken and bent pieces scattered around the concrete floor and his chest heaving he glanced around the area, noticing a stack of other bodies further in and his brows pinching.
He stalked forward and examined the bodies, his mind easily supplying him the information that these bodies had been there much longer and he looked around once more, finding a series of knives laid out in a safe off to the side. He stepped forward, grabbing one of the knives and inspecting them closely a brief memory flashing before his eyes from the bridge – the small woman had cut him with one of these blades so it was clear they had belonged to her.
The knives themselves were well-balanced and well made, if he had to take a guess at the metal used to make the blade he would guess steel, but upon closer inspection he found the metal to be one he encountered every time he woke as it was the same that made up his arm: adamantium, however, his arm was a mix of this metal and titanium alloy. The metal was clean, the blade sharp and showing that she took extreme levels of care with these particular weapons indicating that they were perhaps a favorite of hers, though his eyes were drawn to the engraving near the hilt that had an image of a cat with soft edges making it appear as if the animal was made of fire with the name Hellcat engraved beneath it. The hilt was black, but wrapped with turquoise blue and burnt orange wraps with a white cat's eye opal centered into the hilt. It was a beautiful weapon if a bit ostentatious and he wondered if they were perhaps a gift as they had clearly been made for her. Upon closer inspection he could tell that not only did she take special care of these weapons, but that they were well used and easily broken in as the grip formed easily to his hand. His eyes then glanced over the set noticing that they were all the same and he grabbed the hilt that they seemed to have come in, sliding them carefully into place before tucking the ensemble into the bag of supplies and glancing back around the room. His eyes traced the small cell off to the side and his brow pinched further as he recalled flashes and images of someone being trapped there, but he couldn't fully form the memory and instead decided to glance back through the room once more to make sure he wasn't missing anything else that could potentially be important.
Finding nothing of import he stalked out of the room and just before he did he found, tucked into a corner, a circuit breaker and an idea formed in the back of his mind – one that was familiar from the many jobs where he needed to destroy any and all evidence and make it look like an accident and he quickly set to creating a timed detonation using one of the grunt's cellphones. As the bank exploded behind him, flames licking at the stone he disappeared into the night with only a duffle to his name and knowing that while he was free he was also an enemy of HYDRA and of any other agency that may or may not be for good. He knew that he would have to start picking up the shattered pieces of his mind and memories that lay at his feet like splintered glass.
-0-
Hiking the duffle further onto his back, Bucky continued his trek through the vast fields with high grass that he knew shielded him from the highway to his right and the train tracks to his right. Stopping for a moment to consider the memory that had appeared before his vision he removed the single knife he had taken from the collection – the only knife he planned to keep with the need to have something of Benign, the woman's image shifting and scattering almost as if summoned and he grunted in frustration before running his thumb over the bleached cat's eye opal finding it fitting for the woman somehow. Shaking his head he returned the decorated knife to the sheath he had fashioned for it out of one of the sheaths for his own daggers that had been lost during the fight on the helicarrier over the Potomac. The hilt was hidden behind the lip of his jacket – always within reach which brought a comfort to him that he hadn't realized he had needed as it tended to settle his anxiety as he would run his thumb over the gem embedded into the hilt and it served to ground him.
Opening his eyes and narrowing them in a focused stare, renewed energy surging through him and he ignored the memory of vanilla and clove and chai as he continued on his trek through the darkness, his intention to make it to the next state before morning. He walked for a long while undisturbed before another memory seemed to trigger unbidden and he resisted the urge to shove it away, instead allowing it with surprising ease.
-0-
After leaving the graveyard behind, finding the information he needed he made his way back into the city of Washington DC, his goal to enter the building known as the Smithsonian. Over the last two days of hiding out and finding that he wasn't exactly being looked for by what remained of S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA – at least at the moment – he had found a pamphlet at a local coffee shop for an exhibit about Captain America and his Howling Commandos. Normally he wouldn't have paid any mind to the pamphlet, but the image of a young man in a blue coat that shared his face had drawn his attention and he had easily snatched it – not willing to gamble on if the pamphlet was free or not before disappearing with his meager spoils of a muffin that had been too dry and a coffee so dark it had made him recoil at the taste.
He walked through the museum leisurely, his hands tucked deeply in the pockets of the canvas jacket that he had pulled over a t-shirt and henley in an effort to make sure the metal of his arm would not be seen no matter who looked at it – even a trained eye wouldn't immediately be able to tell his left arm was a completely different make than his right and it brought him a small level of comfort despite his self-consciousness. The museum was not as crowded as it appeared to normally be as he had overheard one of the employees speaking to another museum-goer who had asked why the museum seemed to empty on a weekend, the teen had simply replied that people were more worried about the twisted metal burning in the Potomac than a museum. He had snorted at the comment before quickly making his escape and disappearing into the Flight exhibit, his eyes widening in a child-like wonder as he closely studied each blurb panel and every scrap of information he found along the exhibit and he wondered if at one point he had been interested in airplanes. He hadn't even felt bad when he had swiped a pamphlet from each display that was offered, stuffing it into his pocket for later pondering.
As he made the slow trek through each display and feature, each video or blurb or presentation he soon found himself in front of the Captain America exhibit. It looked obnoxiously patriotic, but he supposed it made sense considering the hero's name was the same as the country he had been on mission in. Like the other exhibits, he took his time reading through each blurb or info panel; he read about Sergeant "Dum Dum" Dugan of Boston, Massachusetts, Private Gabe Jones of Macon, Georgia, Private Jim Morita of Fresno, California, Brigadier James Montgomery Falsworth (though he was certain he had known him to be a Major at the time – an odd piece of information to slither into his mind and he had shook it off as he continued down the informational blurbs dedicated to each man) of Birmingham, England, Jacques Dernier "Frenchie" of the French Resistance from Marseille, France. Each name triggered a series of memories and he took his time sorting through them each before continuing to the next name and picture. He glanced over Howard Stark's information as well as Colonel Chester Phillips as they didn't trigger any information that he had found important. He stopped at the name of the only woman in the immediate area: Agent Margaret Elizabeth "Peggy" Carter and a memory of a curvaceous woman in a red dress surfaced immediately before shifting into a woman who wore trousers and bright red lipstick – a woman with little patience for stupidity and even less patience for patriarchy. He shook his head before stopping at the blurb about Steve, his eyes scanning the information with a hunger he hadn't realized he had as if a man starved of food or water and suddenly being presented both but with a catch.
A frown marred his lips before he stepped passed the image of a frail looking man, watching the image briefly shift into the man he had fought upon the helicarrier and he had to forcibly remove himself from the panel, his hands balling into tight fists in his pockets before he snatched the open pamphlets before stepping before a display that housed the image of the man that bore his face, ignoring the uniformed replicas to the side of it.
His eyes fixated on the man's youthful and carefree features, yet there was a darkness behind the clean-cut man's eyes that gave way to the horror of war and eyes he had become familiar with over the last day or so whenever he managed to catch a look at himself in a passing window or mirror. He studied the man before his eyes briefly traced the blurb next to his image frosted into the glass display and he couldn't help the ball of lead that began to form in the pit of his stomach as horror began to creep into his veins at what he was seeing.
James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes
Born in March 10th, 1917, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom.
Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy,
Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian Front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall,
Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture. But his will was strong.
In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood
friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.
Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America's newly formed unit,
The Howling Commandos. Barnes' marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team
destroyed HYDRA bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.
Bucky Barnes
~
1917 – 1945
He stared at the blurb reading and rereading the information once again. While vague it gave him enough information to start with and it didn't decrease his horror or his pensive stare as he tried to make sense of his situation. After a few moments of deep thought and needing to dodge around a child that had been reading at his side he set his shoulders in determination as his horror turned to anger at what they had done to him. The blurb had said he had endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture – how they knew he wasn't sure he was willing to find out and instead turned his eyes to the teleprompter that was built into the wall that held his glass exhibit, the small screen looping through old footage of James Barnes…him.
Him with The Howling Commandos. Him with Dum Dum Dugan and Gabe Jones at basic training. Him with Steve laughing.
It made his stomach twist painfully and suddenly everything came to a halt as a new image appeared. This image was one he seemed to hold memory of, but only the faintest outlines. The image was of him with Benign. The image was taken of the two of them together, sitting together. He wore a torn sweater that looked like it had been through Hell not unlike he did in the picture. Had this been when he had been rescued? His leg closest to where she was kneeling was tucked closer to him and his other bent so he could rest his arm on it while the other rested on her knee, his eyes gazing fondly at the brunette seated next to him. The smile on his lips was devil-may-care and teasing but soft as it seemed to overwhelm his battered features. Benign was more kneeling rather than sitting positioned close to his knee almost to the point of touching and wearing a collared shirt that looked dirty and stretched out as it exposed her collarbones and dirt-smudged skin that was tucked into her darker tactical pants, boots climbing up her shins to hold the pants in place. The sleeves were cuffed up to her elbows and showing her own array of scrapes as she tended his injuries. Her dark eyes danced back at the man in a loving gesture, her lips stretched into a cat-like smile that made dimples appear at the corners of her full lips and baring her straight teeth. Her wavy hair was pulled away from her face with wild strands falling around her heart-shaped face and tickling the line of her jaw. Tangled slightly in the delicate chain around her neck that held a familiar circular charm were her own dog tags that had fallen out of the confines of her collared shirt, resting against her breast.
Bucky stared at the image for as long as he could before the prompter switched to the next image that showed her a picture with Jim Morita and showing him the insides of a kit, the white band and red cross on her arm showing she was, in fact, a nurse. He studied her features and he had to nearly visibly shake his head to pull himself away from the images instead forcing himself to continue on through the exhibit, but not before stealing the image of the two of them he had seen off of a nearby gift cart that was tastelessly entitled Lovers on the Battlefront, tucking it into his pocket for later study as it was the only picture he truly had of the woman that seemed to be constantly escaping his mind and that he had named Benign.
He didn't bother stopping in the small amphitheater, instead continuing passed and into the Army Nursing Corps exhibit where he studied each and every display – continuing to take pamphlets that were offered – before stopping once more as her image, much like his had been, was frosted into a glass display along with the images of three other women. He ignored the other women's displays, his eyes eagerly seeking out her image in the frosted glass. The smooth angles of her jaw and chin, her chestnut shaped hooded eyes and groomed brow with a fringe that covered the ends from view but seemed to fit the expression depicted on her face. She was pictured to have been looking slightly over her shoulder, full lips parted as if she were answering someone and depicted easily was her collared shirt, chains for her dog tags and necklace (that he could see in better detail now that the image was blown up more), apron and cuff that showed she was medical staff. He traced her image as he tried to commit it to memory, though it was less than helpful considering the image had been etched into glass. After gathering as much from the image as he could, his eyes turned to the blurb etched next to her image.
Alice Elizabeth "Allie" Alexander
Born November 1st, 1920 Alexander grew up in Boston, Massachusetts and was the middle child of four.
An excellent student, she graduated top of her class and studied at a local college.
Alexander enlisted in the Army Nursing Corps in 1942 after Pearl Harbor where she excelled in her program
being awarded the rank of Second-Lieutenant before her peers and went through basic at Fort Devens, Massachusetts.
Alexander was assigned to the 71st field hospital and was deployed with the 101st to the Italian Front. She was
later transferred to the U.S. 107th where she earned the title of the Hellcat of the Western Front and the Witch
Doctor of the 107th, deploying the use of botany and herbal medicine in place of other supplies.
It was in this place she met Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant Timothy Alloysius Cadwaller Dugan and Private
Gabriel Jones who would later become Captain America's Howling Commandos. When the 107th was captured by
HYDRA forces their field hospital came under heavy artillery and mortars, destroying the hospital
and those in it with the exception of Alexander who was taken hostage. She, along with the rest of the 107th was liberated
by Captain Steve Rogers.
With Colonel Phillips's recommendation she was promoted to Captain and earned a Silver Star and Purple Heart.
Though not formally chosen for the elite squad belonging to Captain America, Alexander was called in
frequently to address severe medical concerns and aid in the education of Private Jim Morita for
emergency medicine and use of plants to aid the squad while accomplishing missions. She was
later transferred in winter 1945 to the 80th field hospital where she treated soldiers and civilians alike
throughout the European Theaters before returning home after the war.
Alice Alexander
~
1920 – 1963
His heart sank suddenly.
Was she truly dead as the blurb suggested? He found that he couldn't be sure as he recalled the woman from the cemetery that afternoon and the woman from the shore of the Potomac. She had said he had called her Alley-cat did that mean she preferred to be called Allie? He found himself more confused as emotions he couldn't remember experiencing rippled through him like waters before a storm and he found his breathing becoming hitched. Briefly he touched his face to see if it was wet and thankfully finding that it wasn't before he read and reread the blurb much as he had with James's before briefly acknowledging that the overhead PA was announcing the closing of the museum. He grabbed an information pamphlet that detailed what he briefly noticed was entitled The Iron Ladies of the 107th.
He quickly slipped out of the service exit he had entered from and disappeared into the night, clutching his spoils tightly in his pocket and among them a picture of Steve Rogers as Captain America and a picture of himself and Benign – Alice Alexander.
-0-
Early June, 2014
1 week after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D
8 Days on the run from HYDRA
Bucky had arrived at a farm that was set further back from the road with two separate barns and a humble sized colonial set further away from the barns. The sign outside of the drive that led down to the house and main barn bore the name Rocking Horse Ranch and Farm burned into the wood with a rocking horse emblem at the bottom of the sign and he frowned slightly before slowly making his way towards the barn. It was evening so he knew he had the cover of darkness that would allow him to sneak easily onto the property, despite this, however, he decided caution wouldn't be remiss and so he moved cautiously. As he neared the barn, with his enhanced vision he noticed the camera that seemed to be set at the front doors and he knew that he would need to get creative upon entry if he planned to hide there after he stashed and stored his bag and finishing his reconnaissance mission.
He easily stashed his belongings in the dark area against the barn where he knew it was outside of the view of the camera before slowly beginning to take stock of any other security in the area. It was well into the night now so he was certain that sneaking through the shadows wouldn't be an issue and he was proven correct as he managed to approach the house, quickly scaling the scaffolding and landing silently on the lip of the covered porch that he realized seemed to wrap around the structure to the back of the house. He tensed when he heard voices approach the front door beneath him and he stilled himself after tucking himself closer to the side of the house just in case whoever was speaking was actually leaving.
"Clint, I swear if you don't get out of here and at least take your wife out on a date I swear I'm gonna scream. I can watch the kids for a few hours…I've got plenty of things to keep them occupied."
His eyebrows raised when he heard the voice that seemed to haunt his waking moments as much as they did in his dreams and memories, his mind immediately placing the voice as belonging to Benign and it was clear she was speaking to the male's voice he had heard briefly muffled before was now clear as the door had opened. He heard the male sigh deeply in reply to the woman's voice.
"Look, you know I'd love to do that…really, but…are you sure you'll be okay?"
The worry in the man's voice had Bucky's brows furrowing deeply in confusion. Was there something wrong with the woman that would make it so she would be unable to take care of herself?
Benign sighed deeply in reply, though her throaty alto was dry in a mocked deadpan. "It's your wedding anniversary, Barton. Laura deserves to get out of this house…you both do. And I promise you I will do no extraneous activities that require immediate adult supervision." There was laughter in her voice now, "I'm gonna try and get your kids into Lord of the Rings."
"Jesus Christ why do I put up with you?"
"Because I'm your favorite."
"Nat is my favorite."
"I'm nicer."
The man paused as if considering the statement for a moment before he barked out a laugh. The two of them had moved slightly off of the stoop and were now standing in view, though they both seemed unaware to his presence. The man, Clint, was wearing a t-shirt beneath a flannel shirt, jeans and work boots of some kind but Bucky assumed it was because they were on a farm and he had been doing work around the area. Considering the man knew Nat – his mind easily supplied him the remainder of her name and a strange sense of pride centered in his chest that the woman seemed to have moved on from the Red Room and find potential friends, he supposed – he could only assume that this man was Hawkeye as Benign had used both his first name and last name when addressing him, her tone suggesting she was friendly with the former S.H.I.E.L.D agent and current Avenger. Bucky immediately knew he would have to proceed with his side mission with care, but if he was leaving for a short period of time he may be able to do what he set out to do without much effort.
Benign – Alice, Benign's voice seemed to chastise him – had her multihued locks pulled into a low twisted style that sparked a memory of the way she sometimes appeared in his memories of what he could only assume was the 1940s, curls falling from the array that made it appear as if she had done it out of habit and not cared to how it actually looked. She was wearing an oversized dolphin grey cardigan over what seemed to be a loose black scoop-neck top and skinny jeans fit to her long legs – Bucky suddenly realizing that her torso was much shorter and made her legs appear longer which he found he could appreciate about her slight frame, though she wore a pair of what looked like sandals of some kind, the former soldier never really seeing them before. Her face was bare of makeup, but even still she had a beauty about her that seemed to strike his interest and upon closer inspection with his eyesight he could see the barest traces of demarcations on her skin – freckles aside, though he found them quite cute on her face. Was this the same woman that had treated him a week ago? He couldn't be certain. Pushing his thoughts away for later examination he watched as the man shook his head, hands on his hips though a smile twitched at his lips and showing his amusement with the woman's banter.
"You tell her I agree with you and I swear I'll rat you out."
"You do that I'll tell her you were the one to steal her Oreos the last time you were both here."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me, Barton. I don't have much else to lose at this point." The man's face seemed to fall before she waved her hand flippantly as if to wave away the concern that crested his features suddenly. "I don't mean anything by that, just my pride."
Barton seemed to perk slightly, but Bucky couldn't stop his interest from mounting. What else hadn't she to lose? Did she lose something recently? His mind immediately recalled the memory of her in the cemetery and he immediately wondered if she was referring to him.
"Okay…okay, but where can I even take her out around here? This town is much smaller than the one we live in!"
"Oh it definitely is," Benign hummed her agreement, "that's why I made you a reservation in about an hour at Violino Ristorante Italiano. It's a cute place, nice though and much nicer than a flannel and jeans so you'll need to get changed…probably take a shower. It's right in Old Town Winchester, so I asked Dan and Ian to take you there since they don't live far from it."
"You little shit."
"Ah!" She cut off the man's exasperation with a smirk twitching at her lips, "I think you mean thank you Alice, you sweet baby angel!"
Clint merely stared at her before his lips quirked into a small smile, "Did you already tell Laura?"
"I may or may not have mentioned that you were very busy helping Dan today in the barn and that you may or may not have asked me to take care of the finer details." She shrugged, "I also may or may not have told her to get dressed nicely since I'm watching the kids since you two have literally been taking more care of me than I've been taking care of myself. Don't think that isn't appreciated…it's why I also may or may not have already left my information with the restaurant so your meal is on me."
"Alice…"
"Happy anniversary, Clint," She smiled, the expression brightening her face. "Now get upstairs. I have your kids to spoil and cookies to get them strung out on sugar with." She shoved the man back towards the house and Bucky listened as the man's footsteps disappeared back into the house and he made sure he wasn't in view of any windows. Once he was certain he was still well hidden, he looked back down at the woman, watching as her arms encircled her small waist and she sighed her expression slightly sad before her expression immediately perked at the sound of lighter steps racing towards the door. Upon listening closer, Bucky was able to discern two individual sets of feet before the door opened once again and two children came into view both yelling her name.
"Aunt Alice is it true mommy and daddy are going out for a while!?"
"Is it true we get to stay up late!?"
"And eat cookies!?"
Benign had opened her arms when both children had come charging out, the little girl with braided pigtails hugging her and looking up at her with wide eyes and smile, the taller boy on the woman's other side and hugging her higher than the girl was and was smiling wide enough to mirror both children. "Yes to the first, yes to the second and yes to the third so long as you both get changed, brush your teeth and say goodnight to both your parents before reporting to the sofa soldiers."
"YES!"
Bucky blinked as both children cried their approval and shouting various versions of gratitude as they raced back into the house and he could briefly hear them racing up on the stairs just beyond the window he was crouched beneath. He watched as the woman smiled fondly before turning once more as a car crunched gravel down the drive and stopped not far from her, where two men stepped out. He would have been concerned had the men been wearing other than the casual clothes they were and he didn't recognize them, but it seemed the woman did as she greeted them warmly and with a small wave.
"Please tell me you told him we were picking them up," The shorter dark-skinned man sighed in exasperation as he approached and pulled her into a brief hug that had the woman tensing briefly, the man immediately releasing her and she flashed him an apologetic smile. "Sorry I forgot…"
"It's alright, Ian…nothing to be sorry for."
"Right," The redhead man frowned as he chewed on the end of an unlit cigarette and immediately removing it when the woman sent him a chastising look. "Anyway, I'll give 'em my number to pick 'em back up when they're done. You don't got any other crazy shit planned for them d'ya?"
Benign smiled, "No…unless they decide to check out the area around the restaurant, but I'm sure if they've got any plans for that Clint will ask you about it. Besides," she shrugged, "I'm pretty sure they're having a band playing down there tonight in Town Center."
"I'm surprised you're not going," The man named Ian stated with an almost dreamy smile. "Being a woman that lived during the height of live jazz bands in the 40s, I thought it'd be the first place you'd check out!"
"I normally would," She agreed and Bucky found his interest piqued slightly as he listened. "But crowds are still a bit much for me and besides, I'm watching the kids and forcing them to watch Lord of the Rings with me."
"Well you need us, you give us a call," The redhead implored before glancing up as Clint and a brunette woman appeared dressed in relatively nice clothes and apparently ready for their date. "You two lovebirds ready?"
"Thanks again for watching the kids, Allie." The tall brunette smiled as she embraced Benign, squeezing her a moment despite the rigid line of her shoulders before Benign seemed to give in and hug the woman back earning a dazzling smile from the other woman for the effort. "We'll try and be back before midnight."
"Okay Cinderella," Benign snickered, "your carriage isn't going to turn back into a pumpkin. Now get out of here so I can terrorize your children."
"If you need us…" Barton frowned as he approached as the woman danced away from the smaller woman and striking up an enthusiastic conversation with the other two men.
"I won't," She assured him before sighing softly. "If I actually need you I'll call, but seriously enjoy your night out. I'll get the kids squared away."
"I know you will…"
"You're worried about me by myself…I get it, but I can handle a few hours. I promise if I need anything I'll call you."
"Okay. I'm serious though, Al. You need me or Laur you call."
"Sir, yes sir."
Barton eyed her for a moment before tugging the woman into a one armed hug that she seemed more comfortable with before releasing her and following the woman and the two men back to the car. Benign waved them off as they disappeared back down the drive before she sighed softly and rubbing her temples. "Okay, Alice, tighten it up. You can do this. It's Lord of the Rings with the kids. You can handle that…just don't fall asleep."
"Auntie Alice?"
She turned and smiled, "You guys all ready to go?"
"Yeah!" The young girl's voice echoed from beneath Bucky's feet. "I told Coop to wait for you so we can divide the cookies between us!"
"Smart girl," She praised with a laugh as she disappeared under the overhang of the porch, "now how do you want to do this?" Her voice and the girl's faded beyond the interior of the house and Bucky frowned slightly. He had hoped that the household would be silent for the most part, but he knew that if he had to he could wait a few more hours before completing his mission. He pulled the image of the Lovers on the Battlefield out of his pocket, the edges slightly frayed from travel and from his constant toying with it, the image creased from where he continuously folded and unfolded it. His mission was simple, truly, he was merely going to investigate some of her belongings to confirm his suspicions. He didn't know if she was the same woman depicted in the image, the same woman from the museum, from the bank, from the banks of the river that had helped him and the woman who had let him go. He adjusted himself so that he was more comfortable as he settled himself in for what was sure to become a long wait.
-0-
A few hours passed before he heard the house settle and he dropped from his perch easily enough to check what he assumed was the living room. Peeking through the window he saw the title menu for a movie running. Lord of the Rings, his mind recalled easily from the conversation he had overheard earlier. Glancing at the clock through the window he noticed the time was nearly 12 and he knew if Barton's woman's promise was accurate they would be home soon. He glanced down to see the couch was placed beneath the window and it was absent children or Benign and he had made quick work of sliding into the opened window and disappearing around a corner just as the woman reappeared in the living room, grabbing the discarded plates and cleaning the area of anything that had been used. Bucky then had to turn back to the other side of the wall to avoid the woman seeing him as she stepped passed the wall and into the kitchen. There weren't many lights on, just the lights over the sink and the lamp that sat on the end table next to the couch so there were plenty of shadows for him to tuck into to avoid being seen. The actions came easy as his memory of being the Winter Soldier were much fresher than any of his other memories.
Benign seemed to be washing the dishes that had been used before stepping back into the living room just as he dodged back around the lip of the room and into what appeared to be her dining room. She reached for the remote on her coffee table before turning off the television, her gaze focusing on a frame just off to the side and just as he was about to trace her gaze he felt a nudge at his side and looked down to see perhaps the largest dog he had seen in quite some time, the animal staring up at him with intelligent eyes. Despite he being an intruder to the home, the dog seemed to merely tilt his head at the former soldier, as if sensing something about him that he was aware of within himself. The dog sniffed him briefly before his ear perked and he trotted around the corner and immediately he heard the woman cooing over him.
"Who's a good boy?" The dog seemed to snort in reply which didn't seem to deter the woman's cooing. "You ready for bed? C'mon, let's go upstairs and pretend we're asleep so we can talk to Fury without Clint finding out huh?" The dog didn't reply, but it seemed as if Benign didn't mind either way as she tapped her leg, "C'mon Rumsfeld, let's go."
He listened as the woman closed the opened window over the couch and flicked off the light in the living room casting it into darkness before her steps, light and barely there receded and Bucky would have missed her steps completely if the stairs didn't creak with her weight as well as the clicking of the dog's nails against the hardwood floors and stairs as he followed his owner up to the second floor of the home. After a few moments in which he was certain that no one would be coming in any time soon he stepped into the living room, his eyes focusing on the frame first to find that it was the same image that he carried in his pocket and while it was compelling it didn't mean that she was the same woman from his memories. Replacing the frame on the table with careful consideration of how it had been presented in the first place, Bucky made quick work of checking the first floor before he found a room at the back of the house that seemed to hold numerous items throughout the ages dating back long into America's history and while he was confused by it he ignored these items instead looking for any items that would connect her to the woman that seemed haunt him.
He soon came across a file with her name on the tab and he opened it, his eyes quickly tracing the information there easily enough before he quickly came to realize what the file was. It was her life in chronological order that detailed each part of history she had taken part in along with details about how she forged herself new identities to prevent herself from being tracked through time in an effort to maintain anonymity. The early file didn't pique his interest, but the part about her being born in 1920 and enlisting in the Army Nursing Corps did. Tucked into the pages were personal notes she had made and indicating that there was a notebook she owned, a diary of sorts, which was to be referenced should she need it. He mused that it was terribly irresponsible for her to simply leave information like this around, but considering the times he assumed she had most of this backed up already and if she didn't, she kept physical record to keep hackers out of her business. Just as he was about to replace the file he noticed a period of time that remained blank, the time between 1963 – which he recalled the date her death was listed in the display at the museum – and 1986. There wasn't much listed there, but another notebook seemed to correspond with the information that was missing. Flipping to the front of the file once more he nearly groaned at how simple this seemed to be as there was a brief note of where she had the notebooks that corresponded to certain times detailed in the file.
Setting the file back where he found it and in the way it had been placed, he set to finding the notebooks. Thankfully, it appeared they were in the same room and he discovered both leather-bound books easily enough and flipping to the front of the books he found they matched the corresponding dates that were listed. He tucked both into the pockets of his jacket before leaving the room as he found it before making his way slowly and carefully back down the hallway. He strained his ears to listen to the movements in the home to find it blissfully silent, with the exception of water running upstairs from what he assumed was a shower before making his way back into the living room. He heard voices approaching the front door and ones he recognized as Barton and his woman before he slid back into the kitchen, noticing the back door and finding it to have been left open. While he wanted to see her face just once more before he disappeared he knew he couldn't stay in fear of being caught and so glancing around briefly he found what appeared to be a cloth headband of some sort and taking a moment to smell it he nearly blanched as he was assaulted with vanilla and clove. Tucking that into his pocket as well he quickly slid out of the back door just as the front was opening it and with timing only an assassin was known for, he slid the door closed behind him at the same time the heavy front door clicked shut.
He circled the house and made his way back to where he had left his meager belongings, removing the notebooks from his pockets and tucking them carefully into the bag before pausing briefly to tie the headband around his wrist. Hiking the bag onto his back once more and casting a longing glance at the home that lay just beyond the barn he was still using for cover he disappeared back into the night. Perhaps their paths would cross again, but for now he needed to reclaim himself and learn about the woman from his memories before he even thought of what his next move would be.
End Note: Wow-we! This chapter was insane to write! I hope you enjoyed my take on Bucky here...there's a lot going on in this man's mind and while there's a lot of bouncing back and forth I had to write it the same way I thought he would think. It made my real world ADD go haywire, but I'm actually really happy with how this turned out and I hope you did too! It's actually the LONGEST CHAPTER TO DATE AT DAMN NEAR 15K WORDS, lol, I'm sorry but legitimately this chapter was meant to be maybe, maybe 10K at most...oops!
I'll keep this short as promised in the actual author's note so if you want my whole breakdown definitely scroll back up lol.
But thank you everyone and I hope to see you next chapter!
Also, if you haven't already - make sure you check out simmerandcry's story Show Me, Don't Tell me! It's truly a masterful poly OC/Bucky/Steve fic and it's getting really, really intense over there so make sure to go read it!
Thanks again and please make sure you review and let me know what you all think!
All of the love, dearies~
Eirlys xoxo