Chapter 10: What's Wrong With Being Confident
As soon as Bucky agreed to help Mika train, he regretted it.
He paced his apartment for hours, berating himself for putting his guard down and allowing this to happen. He was supposed to come to Bucharest to be a ghost, to fade into the background until there was nothing left of him. And now, here he was, not only acknowledging his neighbor, but talking to her, and spending time with her, and making plans with her…
By God, he had a friend.
The sudden awareness brought his treading a trench in his floor to a halt. This was not going according to his initial plan at all. Years - decades - of training had taught him to work from the shadows. To work quickly. To go unnoticed. To leave no trace behind. He was to be disciplined, precise, deadly. All these things had been drilled into him, both literally and physically, until he'd forgotten what it was like otherwise. The past fifty years had been like a never ending nightmare, with the most horrible parts remaining grotesquely vivid in the less burnt parts of his brain.
He realized that he was at a crossroads. Training dictated that he should diverge, that he needed to leave this place behind and try again elsewhere. It said that he had already made too many mistakes, that this operation had been compromised. He needed to leave.
Or…
Or, he could continue on this path. He knew he would never forget every part of his training, but he could blatantly ignore parts of it. After all, his goal when he moved to Bucharest was to be something else - someone else. He thought it would be years before he would be able to befriend anyone, before he was comfortable enough to use his voice again. But all it took was one person being nice to him (or two, if he counted Steve; or three, if he counted the lady who owned the cafe around the corner) to help him start to remember himself.
Every day, the Soldier became quieter in the back of his mind. Every day, the Man became stronger. No, he was not going to run from this. He'd given up exactly one time in his life, and it had cost him everything. Now, brick by brick, he was going to build everything back up.
He glanced at the clock, noticing it was later than he thought. He would get back to building later; for now, he needed to go to work. He was glad to have it tonight, glad to have something to focus his mind and body on so that his mind didn't break into a million pieces. The physical labor helped to calm his frayed nerves, and to focus his attention elsewhere. He had to compartmentalize tonight, if he wanted to make it through.
When the early morning hours rolled around and everything was unloaded, Bucky walked back home in the heavy silence of the night. His mind still ran in circles as he tried to figure out what to do with his impending session with Mika. He had trained many people before, but not exactly in self defense. The Soldier's lessons were usually on the quickest and best ways to kill. And the Soldier did not leave room for mistakes.
He went through his post-work ritual, showering off the day and folding the dirty clothes before adding them to the stack. He opened his journal to the last page, but couldn't think of anything new that he'd remembered. There had been too many variables involved for his mind to piece together any new information. This, combined with his cluttered thoughts about training, frustrated him.
He took a deep, calming breath. Then another. Then another. Once he felt like he could write - like he could think - he pulled the cap off his pen and opened to a fresh page. He didn't bother trying to coordinate his thoughts into any sort of linear progression, instead just writing down anything and everything that he could think of. The visuals passed through his mind faster than he could write, but he was at least able to get down the gist of what he was thinking.
If he was going to make it through this time with Mika without harming her or himself, it was going to take thoughtful organization. He went through his list again, this time crossing out anything that was unrelated or unimportant. From this shortened index, he methodically numbered the order in which the techniques should be taught. Then carefully, ever so carefully, he wrote out an itemized list, starting with the most basic movements and progressing to higher level actions. He figured it was unlikely for them to make it through the entire list, but as per usual he aimed to be prepared for any circumstance.
Memories of the Soldier's past started brewing in the back of his mind. He shook his head, trying to push them back down. He tried thinking of other things - anything - to distract his mind. Normally he was able to keep them at bay this way, but not tonight. For the first time in months, his body seized up as the memory took hold, making him feel like he was caught in a nightmare. He couldn't make his body move, but he could feel the punches as he pictured the man in Siberia. His nerves strained as he remembered how he twisted his vibranium arm, his chest aching with phantom pains of a cracked sternum. The Soldier had been unable to feel the pain at the time, but the Man suffered through it for weeks afterwards. He felt the cold of the Siberian winter as he led the scientist out, and could still smell the burning metal as his arm was repaired.
As the memory faded, the only pain that lingered was in his head. His body felt stiff, as if his muscles had been in spasm for an extended time. The new sheets over his mattress had two giant rips in them where his hands had gripped, seized in the horror of his memory. He slowly uncurled his fingers, the joints popping as they loosened their hold. He ran a shaking hand through his long hair, idly noticing that he was sweating. He would need to shower again. A sigh fell from his lips as he tried to slow his bounding heart rate.
More preparation was needed, if he was going to make it through Saturday morning. He had roughly twenty-six hours to figure out how to keep the memories at bay - or to make preparations for his departure.
No. Bucky shook his head again, this time to clear his negative thoughts. He was better than this. Better than what they made him. He had done a lot of bad things in his life, things that he could never atone for. But maybe, just maybe, he could take what they did to him and do some good with it. He could never repay for the lives he took, but maybe he could protect one. This would be a very important step on his path to...wherever he was going.
He slowly got up, pulling the sheets off the mattress and putting them in the trash bin. He unrolled his sleeping bag, then went back into the bathroom to repeat his nightly routine. As he read through his reclaimed memories, he tried to picture each of them as detailed as possible. These were the things he wanted to fill his mind with, not the darkness that had been forced upon him. He almost stopped before the page outlining his training regimen for Mika, but made himself read through it. He needed to be desensitized to it by Saturday.
He was glad to have work the next night as well. He'd barely slept the night before, and was hoping if he exhausted himself enough that his brain would be too tired to remember anything unsavory while he was with Mika. The shipment they needed to unload tonight was bigger than usual, meaning they had to work overtime to get everything organized. While the other men grumbled about having sore backs in the morning, or how their girls would complain about the late hour, Bucky didn't mind the extra work. He kept to his area, carrying heavy cartons of who-knows-what from one point to another and putting them back down. All he had to focus on was balancing the load he was carrying it and depositing it in its proper place.
"What about you, Jones?" one man, Ronaldo, said. It took Bucky a moment to remember that was his name here - simple, discreet Jones.
"What about me?" Bucky asked, not stopping his activity.
"You got a girl that's gonna chastise you when you get home?" Hugo clarified.
"No." Bucky said shortly, hoping the conversation would end there. The men made jeering noises of shock.
"Come on now, Jones." another man - Bucky thought his name was Boscoe - said. "A young guy like you hasn't settled down yet?"
"I'm not as young as you might think." he replied, continuing his work. He smiled a bit at his joke, though knew the other men wouldn't understand it.
"Besides," Hugo cut back in. "If he was such a young guy, then he shouldn't settle down! He should be out with a different girl every night, you know, sowing his seed."
"You're gross." Boscoe grunted. Bucky's lip twitched in disgust.
"Sorry, you can't live vicariously through me." he said airily, trying to focus on his work. The other men hooted at the response.
"Damn!" Hugo said, unable to formulate a comeback.
"Jones can barely converse with us," pointed out Ion, who was the actual youngest in the group. "I don't think it's within his realm to charm the pants off a girl."
"Don't need conversation for that." Bucky said, sliding the last box from his section into place. He picked up his backpack as the other men hollered, making his way towards the exit.
"Hey, where are you going?" Boscoe called. "The rest of us would finish a lot faster if you stayed to help!"
"Gotta meet a girl." he replied, not able to resist one last shot to mess with them. He knew they would give him hell for it later, but he didn't mind. The looks on their faces as he passed by were worth it. He didn't bother to look back or wave at his coworkers as he left, refusing to acknowledge their laughter and catcalls. While that was the most conversational he'd been with those men, he found it easier to be himself - or whatever self he had left - when he was around them. Their bawdy talk and boyish demeanors reminded him of his days in the Army, and the days with the Howling Commandos. He'd remembered them two days before, their faces coming to him. He couldn't quite remember names, but he could picture them perfectly. He'd been a combat specialist with them.
That was it. He didn't need to focus on his time with Hydra. He needed to focus on the Commandos. He needed to remember those nights around the fire, when he taught them easy ways to get the upper hand on their opponents. If he focused really hard, he could almost feel the warmth on his face from the embers, and the chill at his back from the wind. Even if they were miserable, there was no place he'd rather be.
He went through his nightly routine, showering before taking a seat at the small table in the corner. He only had about an hour until he was meeting Mika, so it wasn't worth it to try and sleep. Instead he studied his plan over and over, trying to commit it to memory. He didn't want any surprises today. The more he read over the list, the more desensitized he was to it. They weren't going over anything threatening or combative, so it shouldn't trigger any traumatic memories. At least, he hoped it wouldn't.
For the next hour he sat at the table, ignoring his fatigue and ignoring the part of his brain that said this was a bad idea. It had been a long time since his training had pulled this hard at him, and he was pissed at it. He was ready to live his own damn life. And that meant helping his neighbor - his friend - learn how to defend herself. Any time the doubt started to cloud his mind, he thought of Mika, and how defeated she looked when she was asking for his help. He wasn't going to let her down.
He heard when her alarm went off, and heard her getting ready. He stood as well, fully dressing and grabbing his backpack. He thought of leaving the journal behind, but decided against it. His plan was too detailed to risk leaving it behind. Ten minutes before six, he left his apartment, securely locking the door and standing in the hallway outside. He made sure to stay in plain sight, so he wouldn't run the risk of startling her. She'd made it quite plain how she felt about his sudden appearances. He counted the seconds as they ticked by, waiting patiently for the hour to turn. Two minutes to six, he heard Mika by her door. She greeted him with a warm smile, which still threw him for a loop. It had been a long time since someone smiled at him like that.
"Good morning," she said, extending a covered paper cup to him. "I made coffee."
The alarm bells were going in the back of his mind. She could have put anything in that coffee. His frustration rose again, overpowering the anxiety that was threatening to build. "Thank you." he said. He reached out and took the cup, taking a sip before his training could talk him out of it. He couldn't stop himself from grimacing - maybe Mika didn't put poison in the coffee, but she did put a lot of sugar and milk. Well, a lot to him.
"What? Not a good blend?" she asked. Her face seemed genuinely concerned of his opinion. He felt bad for letting such a reaction show in front of her.
"Sorry, just too sweet." he explained. He didn't give the coffee back, though. She was kind enough to bring it to him, he would find a way to drink it. He'd lived on vodka and raw potatoes for two months once, he could handle some sugar and milk in coffee if he needed to. Mika gave him a confused look, putting the remaining cup she had up to her lips. Her face shifted comically into one of disgust as she tasted her drink.
"Apologies, seems I gave you mine on accident." she said, handing the cup out to him to trade. He gave her back the original one, taking the new one from her. It seemed odd, sipping a drink after she did. But to be fair, the likelihood of her already taking a drink from the first cup was high, and he had taken a sip from that one as well. If anything, this proved that either she didn't poison the cups, or she herself was immune to poison. He must have stared at the cup for too long, because after a moment she added, "I don't have cooties, I promise."
That alarmed him, though he did better of controlling his reaction this time. How did she know about the parasites they'd encountered in the trenches? Warfare had changed dramatically since he initially joined the army, but he still remembered how men would scratch their scalps till they bled, begging anyone with a razor to shave their hair off, regardless of the cold. There's no way she could be referring to that.
"I think I missed something in translation." he said. It had to be a modern Romanian colloquialism. Mika's head tilted to the side as she considered her response.
"You know, the things little boys say little girls have, like germs or whatever." she explained. She seemed surprised at his confusion. The explanation stirred something in his memory, but nothing fully formed. He remembered there being a similar saying when he was a child, but it wouldn't come to him.
"Oh. In my day, that's what we called the parasites that got stuck in your hair if you were out on the ground for too long." he said. He'd been so proud of his hair at the time. Now, it wasn't a priority. He finally took a sip of the coffee she'd handed him, the smooth drink warming him. It tasted different from the coffee he got at the cafe around the corner, but he liked it. Coffee was one of the better things he'd rediscovered in this new life. She hadn't added sugar or milk to this one. She made a face at his description, and it occurred to him that maybe it was a bit on the gross side. Oh well, too late now.
"Well, there you go. Six o'clock in the morning, and you already learned something new." she said, pushing through the odd moment and smiling. She gestured to the stairs. "Shall we?"
"After you." he said, nodding to her. She started down the stairs, her steps quieter than they usually were. He wondered if it was due to the early hour, or because she had her precious caffeine in her hand. Either way, he found himself mildly impressed at the fluidity of her movements.
She let out a shiver as they exited the building, the cold air making her pull her arms closer to her center. He would have offered her his jacket again, but she took off in a purposeful walk before he was able to settle on the words. He easily strode beside her, the cup of coffee serving to keep his hand warm in the cool morning air. The seasons were changing fast - before they knew it, autumn was going to be gone.
Mika didn't try to make conversation as they walked, which he was grateful for. He was still going through his plan in his head, making sure to check off the details. No one was out at the early hour, the streets quiet as they walked.
Bucky had passed by this gym a few times, but never thought of going inside. Mika handed him a card before they went in, a barcode on one side and a name on the other. She gave him a grin, leading the way into the nearly empty building. There was a boy sitting at the counter in front of them who was barely keeping his eyes open, his gaze focused on some point on the desk. Mika scanned her card under a red light, looking back to make sure he was following her lead. He put the card under the scanner as well, the beep from the computer sounding loud and sharp to his sensitive ears. He kept an eye on the kid as they walked to another part of the building, but he didn't seem to notice or care about their arrival. The two older women on the bikes in the corner didn't even glance their way as they walked into an enclosed room.
Bucky eyed the card she'd given him. Had she created a secret identity for him, just for the sake of going to the gym? "So, who is Nicolae?" he asked. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to assume an identity - hell, it wasn't even the only identity he'd falsified here in Bucharest. Mika paused from where she was pulling mats into the middle of the room. He started to stop her, to tell her that they wouldn't need the mats, but her face looked so excited that he didn't want to hurt her feelings.
"Just a friend, no need to be jealous." she said, unable to hide the humor she found in her statement. Bucky remembered jealousy from another time, how it often reared its ugly head when it came to attention and affection from those of the opposite sex.
"Why would I be jealous?" he asked. Part of him was serious, as he considered anyone paying him romantic attention to be completely laughable. But the other part of him wanted to see how she responded. He liked when she joked with him, especially when his thoughts came fast enough to counter hers. Her brows furrowed, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she tried to think of a retort. He kept his face as neutral as possible, trying to pretend that his question was legitimate. But the longer she floundered, the harder it was to keep a straight face.
"Well, he...I mean, you...um…" she stammered, trying to figure out a way to get the upper hand again. He could feel his lip twitching, and he took a slow breath to try and keep a grin from breaking out. She stared at him, and he saw the moment that she figured out he was kidding. She exhaled pointedly, crossing her arms and giving him an annoyed look. "Do you try to ruin my fun? Or is it just a natural talent?"
He couldn't hold back the grin. "Little bit of both." he said. She stuck out her tongue, a childish gesture that made him feel accomplished. He watched as she pulled off her sweatshirt, then her gloves and hat. She shook her arms out, as if she were trying to shake off the cold. The grey sleeveless shirt she was wearing hung loosely over her torso, allowing strips of her bright purple bra to show through. Did she know he could see it? She had to know. He thought to comment on it, but remembered the women in this era didn't always mind if their undergarments were showing.
"Let's just get started, before I fall victim to more of your sass." she said, distracting him from his odd train of thought. He was still grinning, and felt an odd sense of triumph at the look she was giving him. He brought his backpack around, opening the zipper and carefully pulling out his journal. Even if he'd read through it a thousand times, he still wanted to remain focused. He couldn't allow any errant thoughts. "Wow, very organized." she said, sounding impressed. The comment seemed real, but he wondered if she thought he was just going to pull their lessons off the top of his head. She seemed dedicated to learn, and he felt she deserved for him to be dedicated as a teacher.
"I have trouble remembering things sometimes." he admitted. Between the new environment driving his senses crazy and the addition of social interaction for him to deal with, he'd completely forgotten the starting point for their meeting. He wasn't embarrassed by it; forgetfulness was a common side effect to periodic torture and cryogenic sleep. Mika pressed her lips together, looking at the floor instead of him. Her cheeks had a pinkish tint to them that wasn't there before. She was embarrassed? By what? He chose not to ask, knowing that it was not a common social practice to point out humiliation when a person was attempting to hide it. He took a deep breath, deciding to redirect the conversation and begin before he talked himself out of it. "Have you done any type of fighting before?"
She considered the question for a moment, her chagrin forgotten. "Minimally. My older sister taught me some things a few years ago, but...it didn't exactly stick." she said. He rose his eyebrows for a moment - he hadn't been expecting her to have much experience at all. Even if it wasn't formal training, it was something.
"What did she teach you?" he asked, his mind going into overdrive. If she already had foundational skills, then he would have to reevaluate his plan. The very thought made his chest itch with anxiety.
"Um...well, she taught me how to throw a punch," she said, her eyes wandering as if she were looking into the past, trying to remember. He grinned again, remembering their midnight meeting a couple weeks ago.
"That one stuck." he said. He hoped she was at least happy about that.
"Yea, I had that one down." she agreed, pink tinging her cheeks again. "There were a couple kicks...but I honestly don't remember them." she finished, once again looking at the floor instead of at him. Her hands played with the end of her braid, a telling sign that she was nervous. He didn't want her to be nervous. The whole point of this was to help her feel safe.
"Those sound like offensive moves, they're assuming you're face to face with your enemy." he said. He pulled his jacket off, going and laying it delicately next to hers so that they weren't touching. Though maybe, if he laid it on top of it, it might smell like flowers again. He shook the thought from his mind, focusing on the task at hand. "You want more defensive moves, where you can use your whole body and the enemy's weaknesses to get free."
"Yea, I guess I don't need to start any fights. Just finish them." she said. She had a sheepish smile on her face. Maybe she wasn't feeling nervous. Maybe she was anxious instead. Bucky couldn't quite describe the difference between the two feelings, but he knew enough to know they weren't the same. He gave her a small smile, trying to help her feel better. This was not the way he'd taught people before. Before, there were no smiles. There was no cheeky comments and easy going demeanor. But that's the way it was going to be here, he was sure of it.
"Exactly." he said. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his prosthetic arm hanging. He didn't want to risk it, not knowing if anything was programmed into it. He'd never had difficulty controlling it before, but he didn't need it acting up now. He stuffed the hand into his jeans pocket. She was looking at him expectantly; it was now or never. He garnered every ounce of courage and defiance in him and continued on. "You're strong, but more than likely the enemy is stronger than you. So, what would you do if I grabbed your wrist?" He held his hand out. He didn't want to reach for her, didn't want to touch her if she didn't want to be touched. He would let her be in charge of initiating the contact. The capability would help her feel safer, more in control. He remembered the training sessions he'd dealt with before - they were about knocking the student down until they were broken, then building them up as the weapon Hydra needed. But he would not do that here. He would not do that to her.
Mika carefully laid her wrist in his hand. Her skin was soft, softer than he thought it would be. Her pulse jumped under his fingertips, the pace giving away her current emotional state. She did not seem to be afraid of him (which still surprised him), but she seemed antsy.
"Is that how tight you're holding on? Easy." she said, twisting her arm out of his light grasp. His fingers tingled from where he held her. Her expression gave away her bolstered confidence, and the way her eyes lit up almost made him feel bad for having to ruin it with reality. Almost.
"That works, if someone isn't trying." he said, unable to stop one corner of his mouth from quirking up. The look on her face almost made him laugh, her eyes comically round at his comment. He held his hand out again, silently asking her permission to hold her wrist. He was still careful, afraid he would tear her skin if he held on too tight, but increased his grip marginally. She perked an eyebrow, and she had the same competitive countenance she'd had when they went running a few weeks ago. She pulled again, but he held fast this time. He watched as she pulled pushed, twisted, spun, and did everything in her power to escape his hold. But her angles were wrong, her form flawed. She was trying to only use her arm, instead of her entire body. She was only a few centimeters shorter than him, but instead of utilizing her height and length to her advantage, she'd almost turned it into a weakness. His train of thought was derailed as she made a noise, and he immediately dropped her wrist, afraid that he'd hurt her. He started to apologize, to say that maybe this wasn't a good idea after all, but he was distracted by the fiery look in her eye. She wasn't hurt. She was pissed.
"Okay, you made your point. So how do I get out of that?" she said, hands on hips. Bucky understood that she wasn't frustrated with him per say, but she was frustrated in what he made her realize. In his past life, this is when he would unsettle his pupil further, demoralizing them until there was no fight left in them. He blinked the memory away, offering his hand again. Mika seemed slightly confused, and held her hand out so they were next to each other. He swallowed his apprehension, slowly taking hold of her wrist. It felt like a bold move to him, but she didn't seem to notice. Friendly physical contact was second nature to her, she didn't think twice about his holding on to her. She trusted him. For a moment, Bucky was completely distracted by this thought, only remembering his task when she fidgeted.
"Pull me towards you, and grab your fist with your other hand." he instructed. She followed his words, and he held his grasp fast as she gave him some resistance.. She made a fist, holding onto it with her opposite hand. "Now you have a closed chain. Bring your elbow up, and use your core and legs to pull out of it." he said, visualizing the move in his head. She did as he said, and again her expression changed to one of surprise. It was actually a very good performance, for her first attempt. She listened better than a lot of people he'd trained with more...sinister methods. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, suspicious.
"Did you let me out of that?" she asked. He perked an eyebrow. She always said the oddest things, reinforcing the thought that she had no idea who he was, who he had been.
"I wasn't holding as hard as I can, but I wasn't trying to make it easy." he replied truthfully. He couldn't help but be honest with her. "Here, try again." he said, holding his hand out again. She placed her wrist in his palm, allowing him to close his fingers around it and hold it a bit tighter. She went through the movement again, and while the form wasn't perfect, it would probably still be effective against the average man. But he wasn't trying to train her to take on the average man.
"That felt better." she said, and he nodded to show his agreement. It was better. She was a very fast learner. He held his hand out again, focusing all his energy to make sure he was holding onto her wrist tight enough to challenge her, but not tight enough to hurt her. She started the motion again, but was rushing, thinking too far ahead. He stopped her halfway, noting her elbow had dropped.
"Your elbow needs to be higher." he said. He wanted to show her the angle, but didn't want to let go of her wrist. He pulled his left hand from his pocket, concentrating on moving it properly so that he didn't accidentally injure her. When he was satisfied with the position of her arm, the hand went back into the pocket. "There, that gives you a more longitudinal force."
"Got it." she said. They kept on with this routine - him holding his hand out, her placing her wrist in it, then practicing the motion. It was nice to have the repetition, and she really did learn very quickly. It was going much better than Bucky had anticipated. "Should I...try it with the other hand?"
There it was. The one thing he hadn't quite thought through. He knew logically that yes, she needed to work on her technique bilaterally in the case of an attacker from either side. But he had planned to save that for another day, when he had more time to practice with his left hand to better acclimate the neurocircuitry for more fine motor movements. He hadn't tried anything of the sort with it yet, and wasn't about to take that big of a risk with Mika.
"I don't know if I trust this hand that much." he said quietly, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. It was another one of those moments when he wished he could just take his arm off. She gave him a sympathetic look, her mouth forming a small "o" before she pressed her lips back together.
"What about reaching across?" she asked, trying to find a solution for their problem. He ran through the scenario in his head - this was in his plan, but was fourth on the list. He still needed to teach her how to use her legs and her core concurrently, and to teach her anatomical weak points. But maybe they didn't have to work on that, maybe she could just practice the motion, even if it wasn't proper.
"The angles would be wrong. But for the sake of practice, it will work." he decided. He held his hand out again, oddly asking her to join him in this weird dance. She put her opposite wrist this time, and he carefully closed his fingers around it. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she walked through the movement again, trying to mirror what she did on the other side. She caught on faster this time, remembering to lift her elbow and drop her weight. She didn't seem to realize how close it pulled her, though. She didn't notice how his arm was practically wrapped around her waist, the skin of her arm brushing against the long sleeve of his shirt every time she pulled through. But Bucky noticed. Bucky was acutely aware of how close she was, of how innocent she seemed to be. For a brief moment, he felt guilty for telling her he would help. She needed someone better, someone safer.
"Out of curiosity, what should I do if they grab across like this?" she asked, breaking him from his downward spiral of thought. He blinked a couple times, trying to think of the maneuver without eliciting any unwanted memories. He stopped trying to visualize, instead moving his body in small motions to determine the plan. Once again, he was thrown off his game, as this was supposed to be for the fourth session. If they ever got that far.
"Pull up and out, then use your other hand here while you turn and break their wrist." he stated. Her face registered her shock.
"Whoa, 'break their wrist'? I'm strong, but I don't think I'm that strong." she said. She was wrong, of course. She had demonstrated so far that not only was she capable of it, but it would probably be quite easy for her. Her weakness lied not in her body, but in her confidence.
"You're stronger than you realize." he said, trying to encourage her. Encouragement was another lost art that he was trying to reclaim. This one came more naturally than polite conversation. She held his gaze for a moment, making him feel bare and vulnerable. He dropped his eyes, wondering for the thousandth time if she was telepathic. He decided to push forward. "Here, try it."
Hand out, palm up, gentle and inviting. The memories were getting closer to the surface now, swirling in the back of his mind like smoke figures in the darkness. He ignored them, focusing all his attention on the woman in front of him. She placed her wrist back in his hand and attempted to pull away, but her form was completely wrong. Her elbow was too low, and she was trying to only use the strength of her arm and forgetting her core and her legs. She would need the power from her entire body in order to break the wrist. He stopped her, pushing her with his right hand and touching as gently as he could with his left to show her where she needed to twist, where to pull her energy from. She gave it another go, but once again was disconnected between her upper and lower body.
"You're forgetting your legs." he said softly. She let out an aggravated noise.
"Can you just show me?" she asked, holding out her hand. His heart jumped into his throat at the thought.
"No." he said shortly. He could feel the Soldier grinning from the back of his mind. He put up a wall between them.
"Why not? The visual will help me learn faster." she argued. Her argument may have been valid, if he had been any other teacher. But he could not run the risk of hurting her, of letting her see a side of him that he didn't want to admit existed.
"I'd rather not break your wrist." he said, covering his inner turmoil with - what did she call it earlier? Sass?
"You won't hurt me." she said, crossing her arms and trying to look tough. He didn't know if she meant she was too strong to be hurt, or if she didn't think he was capable of it. Either way, she was wrong.
"You have more faith than me." he said, adjusting his left arm. It was itching where the prosthetic met his chest. He could feel the Soldier again - he was amused by the situation, daring him to try it. Bucky pushed him away, pushed everything away until his mind was an empty void. He looked up to see Mika's eyes on the floor, her face showing some expression he didn't understand. She shook her head, putting her attention back on him.
"Walk me through it, once more." she said. She sounded firm, determined. Her eyes sparkled in the dim lighting of the room. Bucky grinned. No, this was not the same kind of student he'd had before. This was not the same situation. He was not the same man. It didn't even feel like he was on the same world. The Soldier and the memories were silenced by this confidence. He felt a lightness that he hadn't experienced in decades.
He held his hand out, and she eagerly placed her wrist in it. He stopped fearing his left arm, but was still careful with it, making sure his touches were light enough not to harm her but firm enough to facilitate the proper motions she needed to perform. It was smoother after that, his certainty in his emotional state making it easier for him to communicate. Mika soaked up the information like a sponge, eagerly taking in his criticism and applying it to the exercise. No, he'd definitely never had a student like her.
"I think you've got it." he said. He didn't know exactly how much time had passed, or how many attempts she'd made. But he knew that her form was much better than he thought it would be. "Try it faster now."
"What?" she asked, taken aback. She looked nervous again.
"Try and really get out." he reiterated.
"But what if I hurt you?" she said, her hands playing with the hem of her shirt. Her tell. He let out a few choppy breaths that almost resembled a laugh. Hurt him? She couldn't hurt him if she tried. And even if she did, he would heal within the day.
"You won't hurt me." he said, and he could feel the smile on his face. Her concern made his chest hurt with an emotion that he didn't recognize, and didn't see fit to dwell on.
"Okay, but I'm not paying your hospital bills if I shatter your arm." she said, masking her worry with sarcasm. He shrugged, holding his hand out to her as an answer. She raised her eyebrows and gave him a pointed look, but gave him her wrist once again. And then, she didn't move. He looked at her, and she looked right back at him, waiting for...something. She gave a little tug, and his arm didn't move. She tried again, and he still kept his stance. He grinned again, beginning to pull her ever so slightly towards him. She immediately shifted her weight back, resisting him. He continued pulling until he saw the change in her eyes, the determined look returning as she shifted into position.
Bucky could tell as soon as she began the motion that it was not going to end well. Her weight was not evenly distributed between her two feet, she was relying too much on her front foot. She twisted too early, shifting her center of mass laterally. Her hand hit just behind his carpal bones with enough force to push him, but not enough to break anything. If she'd tried that on a real enemy, she likely would have broken her own hand. He watched in slow motion as her body shifted, a fall to the floor imminent. His body reacted faster than his mind, his left hand reaching out and capturing her upper arm. He watched in horror as the fingers clamped around her soft skin, the area stretching under the firm grip. She let out a noise that sounded like she was in pain. He held on just long enough for her to stabilize, then let go, stepping back quickly to put space between them.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was stupid to think he could do this, stupid to think that he wouldn't somehow hurt her. He waited for the look of fear, of pain, of betrayal. His heart hammered against his ribs, making his chest ache and his lungs feel collapsed. He couldn't believe he'd done this.
"I'm sorry." he said, not knowing what else to say. He didn't know if he could salvage this. When he'd originally moved to Bucharest, he'd intended to be alone. But now, he found himself afraid of losing the closest thing to a friend that he had. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, really. It just surprised me is all, didn't hurt a bit." she said. She looked concerned again, and Bucky wondered what his own face looked like if she was the one worried about him. He took a slow, deep breath, then another, trying to relax the muscles of his face. Perhaps he didn't need to be as concerned as he initially hypothesized. She stepped closer to him, and he fought the urge to flee. "See? Look. Not even a bruise."
There may not have been a bruise, but there was a red mark in the shape of his hand on her arm. She was giving him an encouraging smile, and he tried to make himself believe it. He was able to control his breathing, but his muscles still buzzed with anxiety. The confidence he'd built up had a large crack in it, and the memories of who he used to be began pushing their fingers through, trying to take over. His time was running short.
"I think that's enough for today." he said, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. He continued to eye Mika, watching for signs of discomfort or distrust. But she just smiled again, accepting his words.
"I agree, I'm starving. What are we doing for breakfast?" she said, stretching her arms out over her head. Her shirt betrayed her slightly, allowing a sliver of the skin above her hip to show. It returned as she dropped her arms, going and pulling her sweatshirt back on. Bucky didn't know what to say - he'd assumed that Mika would terminate their friendship following this incident. She mistook his silence for judgement. "What? You should realize by now that I center my life around food."
She held his jacket out to him, and he took it in such a way that their hands wouldn't touch. He figured that she would want space between them right now. "It occurred to me." he said.
"Smart man. So, what shall it be? Breakfast is the least I can do, after your help this morning." she picked up her bag and put the strap over her shoulder before reaching her hand into its depths, pulling out two plastic water bottles. She handed one over to him, which he took with a nod for thanks.
"I'm fine. Thank you." he said. He didn't understand why she wanted to spend more time with him.
"Please? I'd really like it if you joined me. Even if it's just for coffee back at home." she said, her eyes wide and pleading. Perhaps his initial hypothesis was incorrect, even if it seemed unlikely. Granted, he hadn't had to read civilians like this in a long time. Societal mores were different than when he was young, in multiple ways. Mika appeared to want to spend time with him, despite...everything. His training urged him to decline her offer.
"Coffee sounds good." he said. She gave him another bright smile.
"Perfect! Let's go, before my stomach eats itself." she said, turning to the door. She showed no signs of negative effects from the short episode earlier. He pulled his jacket on and put his notebook back in his backpack, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets before following her out of the gym.
She settled into a position next to him as they walked down the street. He felt tense with her so near. He kept waiting for the hammer to fall, for her to realize how dangerous he was and give him the same reaction he'd been experiencing for the past fifty years. But Mika just walked beside him, her face shining in the sun and a faint smile on her lips. She seemed to be completely at ease. She didn't try to force conversation, which was usually a tell of how nervous she was. She really seemed fine.
Bucky let himself relax a little bit. Maybe, if she was fine, then he could be fine too. He willed his shoulders to relax, trying to release the tension in the middle of his back. He may have a lot to hold on to in his past, but he could at least let go of this. Each step back towards home built his confidence up again, until he had a short but sturdy wall supporting him. They paused at the door as Mika dug through her bag, looking for the fob to swipe and get into the building. He realized there had been an absence of jingling suggesting keys during their return trip. She let out a groan of frustration, covering her face with her hands.
"No keys?" he asked, amused.
"They're right in their little spot on the island." she said, pulling her hands away and looking tired of the situation. She seemed to be scolding herself for forgetting her keys. He didn't fight the grin tugging at his lips, giving her a pointed look as he pulled out his own keys and swiped them in, pulling the door open for her. "My knight in shining armor." she said, beginning the ascent up the stairs.
"I wouldn't go that far." he said, moving his hands out of his jacket pockets.
"You are missing the horse. And possibly a sword." she said. "Although, I could be wrong. Do you have a sword in your apartment?"
"Not a sword, no." he said, a slight chuckle escaping him. Just seven knives, three pistols, and two grenades.
"Not surprised. You seem like one of those guys who's prepared for everything. Like Mary Poppins, but like...if she had a love child with GI Joe." she said. She laughed at her joke, but he didn't understand the reference. Were they war heroes? Joe must have been a soldier, but he hadn't met many women in the war, except for...a face came to mind, but the name escaped him.
"I don't know who either of those people are." he stated. He figured she would learn by now that her references were lost on him.
"Dammit Bucky, what am I gonna do with you?" she said, heaving a sigh. She turned to give him a cheeky grin, but he was distracted by her foot turning on the step, and her other foot barely clearing the next one. She was going to fall if she didn't pay attention. He placed his hand on the rail behind her, just in case. "Are you staring at my ass?"
That made his eyes snap back up to hers. He'd never been asked such a question. "Trying to make sure you don't fall." he said seriously. Did she not realize the precarious position she put herself in? She burst into laughter, actually clutching at her stomach. He tilted his head, trying to understand the joke.
"Never heard that one before. Good cover, though." she said, turning back to him once again.
"But that's really…" he furrowed his brows, deciphering her facial expression. She was joking. She let herself teeter on the edge of the stair before slowly falling backward. He immediately put up his hand, catching the small of her back and pushing her forward. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what she was doing.
"You are something else." she said, continuing up the stairs. Once they reached her door, she knelt in front of it, pulling two pins from her hair. He leaned forward to see what she was doing, but quickly realized that he was closer to her than anticipated. She probably would not appreciate him being in such close proximity, especially if she was not expecting it. He used her distraction with the lock as an opportunity to step away, putting a respectable distance back between them. She caught him as he was moving, but luckily he was far enough away not to raise suspicion. "Ah ah, you said you would have coffee with me. You gotta be a man of your word."
"As you wish." he said, stepping back towards her. Even if nothing in their interactions before had suggested otherwise, Bucky was still surprised any time Mika voluntarily spent extra time with him. He didn't know what that said about him - or her.
"So you've seen The Princess Bride?" she asked, turning with a hopeful look on her face. The lock clicked open, and her door swung inwards. Again, he found himself confused by another reference.
"No?" he answered. It seemed he had unwittingly referenced something that she knew. She sighed again, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
"I swear." she said softly, kicking her shoes off just inside the door and dropping her bag nearby. She walked into her kitchen, her feet making soft sounds as she carefully stepped over the tile floor. Her apartment looked much different than her remembered - granted, he'd only seen it for a short time, at night, and had been very distracted at the moment. The sun shone through the windows, the light passing through the sheer curtains framing them. Her furniture looked soft and comfortable and inviting, the fabrics light and neutral. He turned his attention to the pile of shoes by the door, wondering if he was to remove his boots as well. He didn't particularly want to - he'd had to make a run for it barefoot before, and it was not an experience he wished to repeat. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Mika said, "You can leave yours on, it's just a habit of mine."
He let out a breath of relief, taking a few steps further into her apartment. Everything seemed so clean and delicate. He felt like an obvious blot in the middle of it with his dark clothing made to last through the elements. He didn't want to touch anything, for fear of breaking it or soiling it in some way. Mika didn't seem to notice this; she turned on some machine on the counter, placing a mug underneath it. She came close to him, pulling clothes and magazines off one of the barstools and gesturing for him to sit. He hesitated, but followed her instruction, glad she had given him a space to occupy. She put the mug of coffee in front of him, and he found himself glad to have something to do with his hands.
"Thank you." he said, taking a sip from the steaming cup. It tasted amazing.
"Don't worry about it. It really is the least I could do." she said. She was repeating the process at the machine, and Bucky found himself wondering how much a wondrous invention like that cost. She could just make coffee? At any time? She mixed some sugar and milk to her mug, then leaned on the counter in front of him, keeping some space between them. "Thank you, again. For helping me. On more than one occasion."
"You're welcome." he said. He didn't know what else to say. He still wasn't quite sure what possessed him to help her on that night, and certainly had no idea what he was doing by continuing this friendship with her. "You did well today. You're a quick learner." he said. He meant the words truly, and he wasn't one to dole out compliments unnecessarily. She rose her eyebrows in surprise; it seemed she knew how few and far between his adulation was given.
"Thanks. Helps to have a good teacher." she said, raising her mug to him. Bucky's stomach did an odd flip, and he realized he wasn't really used to receiving compliments either.
"Your sister wasn't helpful?" he asked, remembering their earlier conversation. He thought she was more helpful than Mika realized, considering how fast she picked up the exercises. Mika laughed, but it was in a way that didn't convey humor.
"No, Raisa was not quite as patient as you are." she said, looking at the swirls of coffee in her mug instead of at him. "She was very...passionate. And expected perfection."
"The toughest teachers often do." he said quietly. He also looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes as flashes of memories passed across his mind. He didn't want her to catch a glimpse of his past, whether she was a mind reader or not. He shook his head to clear it, making himself look up at her again. "Where did your sister learn?"
She paused before she answered, which was unlike her. She swallowed and took a deep breath; she was having an emotional response, but he didn't understand the context. When she spoke, her voice was the same pitch, but the intonation was different. She was trying to hide whatever she was feeling. "She was in the military, special forces. I don't know exactly where she worked, it was some sort of international thing. When she got out, that's when she decided me and Nicoletta needed to learn. I think she just needed a project of some sort."
That sounded familiar. She spoke of her sister in reverence, as if she was one who commanded respect. It sounded as if Raisa had been involved in things she didn't want to be. Bucky of all people could identify with that. He wished he could meet her, though he had the sneaking suspicion that would not be possible. "Where is she now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He feared the answer.
"She's, um," she cleared her throat, pausing to take a sip of coffee. He could see flickers of emotion playing across her face, too fast for him to recognize. "she's no longer with us."
It was as he thought. "I'm sorry." he said sincerely. He knew what it was like, to lose brothers in arms during a war. He couldn't imagine having someone that close to you, and having them taken away.
"Thank you." she said, fiddling with her mug. She cleared her throat again, blinking rapidly for a moment before turning back to him. "What are your plans for today? Now that you've gotten your workout and good deed in for the day?"
She wanted to change the subject. Bucky was fine with this, considering he would not know how to handle it if their conversation became anymore intimate. He felt like he was intruding, like he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to. He took a long drink from his mug before answering.
"Groceries. Some reading. I've got work tonight." he said, picturing his calendar. If he hurried, maybe he could make it to the corner store before too many other people were out and about.
"Sounds like you'll need a nap, too." she said. He shook his head.
"Not much of a napper." he replied. He didn't know how to explain that sleep often eluded him, whether day or night.
"That's a shame, I find naps to be one of life's greatest treasures." she said, finishing her drink. She rinsed out her mug, and he finished his coffee off before handing it to her. They had tread dangerously close to very real conversation, and between that and the taxing event earlier, he was ready to retreat from any social interaction.
"Thank you again, for the coffee." he said, standing up. Mika seemed fine with them parting ways at this point as well.
"Thanks again for your help." she replied. "Do you...can we do this again next week? Please?"
He paused by the door, considering her question. He'd been able to control the other side of his mind today, but what if he couldn't in the future? He couldn't bear to think of hurting her. But he didn't like to think of her out in the world defenseless either. No, he was tired of listening to his training. He would do as he pleased.
"Sure." he said, nodding in affirmation. She beamed at him.
"You are the best!" she sang, her reaction much stronger than he'd anticipated. He gave her a smile - a real, true smile. "So I'll see you next week, if not before then."
"Next week." he agreed, opening her door and letting himself out of her apartment. He crossed the hallway in long strides, unlocking his door and doing his normal sweep of the apartment. Everything was in its proper place. When he was certain he was alone and the comforting silence surrounded him, he collapsed into a chair at his table. The extensive interaction this morning had exhausted him, his very bones feeling tired. His head hurt, but he felt too jittery to rest. The sun was higher in the sky now, but the chill in the air was keeping the residents of the little neighborhood indoors. He could still get his groceries with minimal logistical variables if he hurried.
He stood back up, ignoring the deep fatigue and making his way back down the stairs and to the store around the corner. He made his way through the aisles, holding the basket with his left arm and picking things up with his right. He could trust the left arm to carry things. As he reached the end of his list, he noticed a pile of apples, already separated into bags. He normally avoided fresh foods, as they were hard to pack and spoiled quickly. But he might make an acception this time. He paid quickly, putting his head down and going back to his apartment. He was acutely aware of how dark the interior seemed.
He put everything in its proper place, except for the bag of apples. He sat them down in the middle of the island, staring at them for a long time. He pulled a knife from his drawer, cutting open the bag and letting the fruit fall onto the surface. He removed the glove from his left hand, the metal barely glinting in the dim light. Carefully, he reached forward and picked up an apple. The prosthetic overcompensated, clamping shut and making it burst. He let out a breath, trying to control his frustration. He rinsed his hand off, then turned back to the pile.
Time to try again.
Woo this chapter was a doozy. Unless a bunch of people voice a different opinion, I'm not planning on doing the same events from different POVs as different chapters for much longer. I'll probs be combining them, or showing different events different chapters.
Hope y'all liked this one! It def showed a looooot of insight into Bucky's journey. Please let me know what y'all think!