Chapter 12: Taking Root
Click-click-click. Whoosh. Thunk. Click-click-click. Whoosh. Thunk.
Bucky idly paced across his apartment, tossing and catching the last apple from the third bag he'd bought. His journal was in his other hand, open to the page with his written plan. Since they'd gone out of order last week, he needed to revise it for tomorrow. He'd taught Mika a basic move, but to do anything more advanced, she needed more foundational strength. He obviously wouldn't put her through the training that he went through, but he could take aspects of it and modify them. He paused, holding the apple lightly as he thought. She needed the Reward Game. He eyed his prosthetic arm, the metal glinting slightly in the low light of his apartment. He'd have to make some alterations of course, but it would teach her to react to the situation and problem solve on a subconscious level. He took a bite of the apple he was holding, noting the pressure feedback from his hand and keeping himself from bruising it. Yes, the Reward Game would do nicely. He looked back at his kitchen island, eyeing the mess scattered across it that used to be a dozen perfect oranges. First, he had to clean.
He had just gotten the last sticky bit of orange off his counter when it was time to leave for work. He grabbed his jacket and baseball cap, swinging his backpack over his shoulders as he made his way down the stairs. He paused at the door, noticing a woman casually leaning against the railing outside. He recognized her, though it took him a second to realize from where. He opened the door, and the woman gave him a flirty smile.
"Hey there, handsome." she said, her eyes meeting his.
"Mika's friend?" he asked, blocking the doorway just in case he was wrong.
"Yea! You...remembered me?" she asked, her demeanor changing slightly. She tilted her head to the side, letting her dark curls fall over her shoulder.
"Yes." he said, not knowing what answer she was expecting. She was still smiling. It made him nervous.
"You're Bucky, right? Her neighbor?" she asked. He moved out the door, noticing how she slyly slid into the opening before it closed and locked on her.
"Yes." he said again. She asked a lot of questions. He didn't like it.
"Well, Bucky the Neighbor, we're going out for drinks tonight. Are you busy? You should come with us!" she said, giving him a bright smile. He'd been better lately about accepting invitations, as long as they came from reliable sources (which, currently, only numbered one). But going out to a bar? With strangers? Who would quickly be impaired by alcohol?
"Can't. I've got work." he said. He was going to listen to the alarm bells this time. He turned before she could answer, walking towards the warehouse district.
"Next time then!" she called after him, the cheer never leaving her voice. He didn't look back or wave, he just continued towards his job. Maybe someday, decades from now, he could accept her invitation. But not tonight.
The streets were busy as he made his way towards the warehouse district, people milling about for shift change. This was normal, and this was the kind of busy he didn't mind. People were focused on getting to work or getting home; they weren't looking too closely at anyone.
The men he worked with had not rested for the past week, giving him shit about his "meeting a girl" comment every chance they could. He stayed silent most of the time; they could have their fun, he could endure it until they found a new subject to fixate on.
"Hey, Jones." Hugo greeted as Bucky put his backpack into his locker and pulled on what little protective equipment they were allotted. "How's that girl that's not yours?"
"Haven't seen her in a week, I assume she's still breathing." Bucky quipped.
"You've made a bold assumption, Hugo." Ion said, stepping out from behind the other row of lockers. "I still don't think this girl is real."
"As real as yours." Bucky added, letting one smirk slide out before he went down to their unloading area, proud of the jeers that followed him. He didn't hear Ion's response, instead just settling down and getting to work. Slowly, he was getting his groove back.
He didn't have to work late this time, and thus was actually able to get a few hours of sleep before waking up to meet Mika. Despite the way their training session had ended the week before, he had more confidence going into this one. With the things he had planned this time, the likelihood of something going awry was slim. He had better exercises selected, and knew he had more control over his prosthetic limb. Everything would go according to plan.
Bucky awoke sometime around five. He went through his morning mantra, grounding himself in the present and shaking off any memories that tried to cling to him from his minimal sleep. The night terrors weren't as frequent as they had been, but he still dreamed in flashes of his past, the pain inflicted upon him resonating through his bones even after waking. He shook these feelings off, pushing the sleeping bag off of him and getting up. He ran through the plan for today in his head as he dressed, as well as alternate versions of the lessons. He was starting to understand Mika's thought process more, so he tried to anticipate any questions she might have, or any directions she might diverge. This would help him keep his mind on track.
He heard her alarm go off at half-past five, the sounds of her getting ready muffled through the thin walls. He pulled on his clothes, adding an extra layer against the chill that had settled outside. Ten minutes before six, he grabbed his backpack by the straps and stepped into the hallway, locking his door behind him. He stayed in the light near the stairs, once again trying to make sure he was easy to spot despite every instinct telling him to hide in the shadows.
She was a couple minutes early this time, greeting him with that same bright smile she often wore. But something was different. Her lips were a different color. "Good morning. This one is for sure yours this time." she said, extending a covered cup to him. He could smell the coffee faintly drifting from it. The alarms were going off - poison, bomb, danger -
"Thank you." he said, taking it gently and decisively taking a sip. Just as the week before, the bitter warmth of coffee filled his senses. Not poison, not this time. Once the threat passed, he found himself still distracted by the color on her lips. He vaguely remembered women changing the color of their lips, but he couldn't remember the mechanism.
"What, do I have a blemish or something?" she asked, her hand going to her face. She looked self conscious. He must have been staring too long at her mouth.
"Your lips." he said, deciding to be honest. It bothered him that he couldn't remember why they may be a different color. At first he'd thought she'd bitten them, but the color was too dark and too even for that. Her brows furrowed, and she took her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket, presumably looking at her reflection. Realization dawned on her face.
"Oh, makeup. From last night. I didn't start drinking blood for eternal youth or anything." she said. That was unexpected. Was that a common practice now? Was it a Romanian myth? He racked his brain for an explanation, but came up empty.
"I'm missing a reference again." he said, hoping she would explain.
"Oh, no that was just...a weird statement." she said, shaking her head and putting her phone away. Her cheeks were pink, though they hadn't started exercising or ventured into the cold yet. She didn't meet his eyes. "At best, it was a vague vampire implication."
His heart rate normalized. So, she was just making a joke. It just was a little more nuanced than her usual ones. That made sense. "Oh. Well I at least know what vampires are." he said, using the most cavalier tone he could manage (it was neutral at best). He hoped it would help quell her embarrassment, though he really couldn't think of any other way to rectify the situation. It was best to just continue. He gestured for her to go down the stairs, to lead the way. She ducked her head, hiding her eyes as she began the descent. He followed after her, minding each door on each floor as they passed. It was still early in the morning, but every once in a while he could hear the inhabitants as they turned in their beds and shifted in their sleep.
The cold air outside calmed him. He was used to cold. Cold made sense to him, a familiar embrace. Brooklyn had been cold, he recalled. Not as cold as Siberia or Russia, but cold nonetheless. He could remember the icy streets, holding onto a man's jacket so he could catch him if he slipped. It was Steve - he'd made a quip about how they didn't have time to go to the hospital because he'd broken an arm again.
He almost forgot to keep walking, the clarity of the memory was so stunning. For the first time in recent memory, he felt the pull of friendly affection in his chest. He knew, logically, that he and Steve had been close friends - the museum had told him as much. But this was the only time he'd remembered what it felt like.
Mika held out the gym card again, removing him from his thoughts. When he looked at her, he didn't feel the same thing as he'd felt when thinking about Steve. But he didn't feel the nerves from before, or the acidic taste of distrust. She was somewhere in between the two, he couldn't quite settle.
Bucky eyed the kid at the desk, but once again the boy couldn't be bothered by their arrival. The same two ladies as last week pedaled away in the corner, lost in their conversation. He wondered what it was like, to live so blissfully unaware. To not perceive danger at every turn, to not assume any movement in the periphery was an enemy.
Mika stripped her sweatshirt, hat, and gloves off, tossing them casually on the floor next to her bag before going to get the mats again. She wasn't like most of the people he'd encountered, they were stuck in their own lives with no concern to the world around them. Mika saw things, noticed things. Things no one else did. But Bucky didn't think it was a defense mechanism, the way his was. She wasn't always preparing for a fight, she was just...aware. Once again he was reminded that she was not like any other student he'd had before.
"Do you remember what we went over last time?" he asked quietly, bringing himself back to the task before them. He slipped his metal hand into his pocket; even with the recent improvements, he was still not ready to risk using it.
"I do! I've been practicing all week." she said, her face proud. He cocked his head to the side, confused. Had she been attacked this week? He hadn't heard anything or seen any suspicious people around the apartment. Had she been wandering around the less savory parts of town, inviting danger? "Well, not by getting grabbed by random people. Just, you know...practicing the motions."
"Oh. Okay good." he said, his heart rate decreasing and his mind quieting. Good, so she wasn't overconfident and looking for trouble. But she still needed to practice. He held his hand out, once again asking permission before touching her, waiting for her to initiate physical contact. "Let's see it."
"Like, right now?" she asked, her eyes wide. He felt the corner of his mouth raise at the comical expression, at the way her arms dropped as her confidence wavered. She shook her hands out and moved her legs, as if she were trying to warm up. He wondered if she was cold in here as well. Determination showed in her eyes as she put her hand out, gently resting her wrist in his palm. Her eyes never left his as he gently closed his fingers, once again a little surprised at the softness of her skin. She pulled her hand quickly, completely forgoing the technique he taught her. He didn't let her get out of his hand, especially once he saw the mischievous expression on her face.
"Nice try." he said, his smirk growing. It bolstered his morale when she did things like that, joking with him. It reinforced the idea that she was not scared of him. She stuck her tongue out at him, a childish gesture that almost made him chuckle. He raised an eyebrow, challenging her to try it again - the right way. He tried not to think about what would have been done if she was his student in his other life; he was not that person anymore. He wasn't the Soldier. He was his own Man. He watched as she balled her fist, grabbing it with the other hand and sinking her weight into her legs to pull herself free. The force she exerted was actually rather impressive, as was her form. She was a quick study, that was for certain.
"See? Told you I've been practicing." she said, smiling brightly at him. She looked very proud of herself, as she should. Her grin was infectious.
"So you have. That was good." he said, feeling his smile match hers. It was amazing, what happened when people actually wanted to learn what he was teaching, without the imminent threat of punishment. She looked so happy, so confident. He wondered how her other technique would go. "Let's see the other one then."
"Bring it on." she said, holding her opposite hand out without hesitation. It still surprised him, how easily and willingly she made contact with him. He slowly reached out, clasping his hand around her wrist again. She waited a beat before pulling, trying to twist in the way he told her before. Her weight was more evenly distributed, but she wasn't using her whole body like she needed to. She was just trying to push with her hand, which may not be enough if her opponent was significantly stronger than her. He let her hand slip from his, though he could have easily maintained the grip.
"You're forgetting your core." he said. And your legs. And your transduction of force.
"Dammit." she swore, making him grin. He liked when she swore; there was something about it that was comforting. She stuck her hand out again, her face set. "Let me try once more."
"Go through it slowly first." he advised, taking her wrist. If she didn't feel how her momentum needed to move through her, then she would never get it quite right. He walked her through the technique again, pointing out the minute changes she needed to make so her strength flowed in one continuous path. She followed his instruction thoroughly, but when she tried to perform the maneuver again, lost her forces as they crossed through her midsection. If she wasn't careful, she was going to injure her shoulder or her hand by attempting to only use her arm.
"Shit, I swear I've been working on this." she insisted. She looked anxious, like a student who couldn't find their homework. He didn't want her to be anxious, that was not supposed to be the point of these lessons.
"I believe you." he said honestly. The movement was definitely smoother than the week previous, but it still wasn't quite perfect. She needed more practice, and she needed to be stronger in her foundations. She needed to try again. He held his hand out to her, and she quickly gave him her wrist. She stood still for a few moments, and he could practically see her brain working as she thought about what she wanted to do, how she wanted her body to move. She looked to him once more for confirmation, and he gave her a gentle nod to go ahead. She could do this, he knew she could.
But maybe not today. She let out a noise of frustration, actually stomping her foot. She put her hands over her face for a moment before shaking her arms out, turning to him with an apologetic look on her face.
"I'm sorry, Bucky. I really thought I had it down." she apologized, crossing her arms across her chest. She looked small and fragile, her face disappointed. He felt a stir in his chest as actual emotional concern flickered. The feeling was weak, but it was there.
"You're doing fine. Let's try a different exercise." he stated, hoping to assure her. He didn't like that she was frustrated with herself. It didn't sit well. A change in pace would help distract her, and the Reward Game would do that, as well as teaching her postural awareness and core control.
"But I haven't mastered the first one." she said, tilting her head to the side. Good, she was already distracted.
"We'll come back to it." he said. This gave him a good excuse to teach her the things she needed to know before performing the more complex movement. "Lay on the floor."
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Not suspicious, per se, but confused. "Okay." she said after a moment, slowly lowering herself down until she was flat on her back. He tried not to hesitate, but was honestly astounded that she trusted him this much. He knelt next to her, trying to keep enough distance between them that she wouldn't feel claustrophobic. He held up his right hand, making sure the left was still secure in his pocket.
"Put your fingers against my palm." he said. She perked an eyebrow, but he kept his face stoic. He found that, with her this close, he could smell the flowers of her shampoo and see the light dusting of freckles across her nose. He hadn't anticipated this. She gently pressed her fingertips to his hand, her movement smooth and unwavering. She wasn't nervous. Why should he be? "Now, don't change that pressure."
"What?" she asked. She wouldn't fully understand until he started the Game. He smirked, wondering how she was going to do. He started moving his hand, her eyes staying on his as her arm followed the path he traced. He moved his hand further away, making her change her concentration to the assignment. Her forehead scrunched in concentration as she moved with him, but her breath stayed even. Even as he had her stand and squat and reach and climb, her breathing didn't hitch or change. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered if she'd played the Game before.
"Impressive." he said, dropping his hand after a while. He knew she was athletic and figured she'd take to the movements, but he didn't think she'd take to it that well. It was the first time he'd underestimated her, a mistake he wouldn't make again. While her breathing was even, her cheeks were flushed, giving away how hard she'd worked.
"Really?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. She looked like she didn't quite believe him, but really wanted to.
"First time I had to do that, I could barely breathe by the end." he said honestly, recalling the initial session he'd been put through. Granted, it hadn't been in a nice controlled environment. It had been in a dark Hydra bunker, somewhere in Russia.
"Somehow I have trouble believing that." she said, though her mouth curled up in a smile. He shrugged.
"May have been a little different." he added. He hadn't had a handler for this training. He'd had a giant magnet holding onto his hand, equipped with a shock feature if the pressure on it changed. But she didn't need to know that.
"Maybe you need to do more yoga." she said, putting her hands together in front of her chest, as if in prayer. He thought he'd misheard her, or had missed something in translation.
"What the hell is yoga?" he asked, eyeing her. If it was something that had equipped her to handle the Reward Game, he didn't know if he could trust it.
"You've never tried yoga?" she responded, her face shocked. Was it a common form of training? "You should come to class with me!"
"Absolutely not." he said. Class implied a group, which he would not be a part of.
"Why not? It'll be fun. Get you limbered up a little bit." she said, shaking her shoulders. 'Limber' was not exactly a word Bucky would use to describe himself. He let out a brief chuckle at the thought.
"No thanks." he replied, seeing now that this wasn't a serious inquiry. It was polite of her to invite him, but he did not see himself ever being in the proper headspace.
"But you may really like it. Helps keep the mind calm and the body moving." she continued, smiling brightly at him. While the premise sounded intriguing, he still couldn't move past the class aspect of it.
"Not big on groups." he said, hoping that would curb her enthusiasm.
"Well then I'll teach you." Mika she said, as if the answer were obvious.
"What?" he said, dumbfounded. She wanted to spend more time with him? He began to wonder once again if she was some sort of secret agent, bent on gaining his trust. It was the only reasonable explanation for her actions.
"Well it's only fair. You're teaching me some self defense, I'll teach you some yoga." she said. He felt his face slacken at the response. It seemed, despite every instinct telling him otherwise, Mika was just a genuinely nice person.
"You don't have to-" do that, he wanted to say. She didn't realize the debt he owed to humanity, the blood he was trying to wash off his hands.
"But I want to." she insisted. "I need to repay you with more than just gratitude and coffee."
"That's good enough." he said. In reality, it was more than enough. He was so far in the red at this point that a life of quiet servitude was about the best he could hope for. But of course, he couldn't tell her that. Not without divulging every dark and terrible secret that plagued him.
"Bucky!" she let out a groan and pinched the bridge of her nose. He was immediately concerned, not expecting this reaction from her. She let out a sigh, looking at him with an expression that he couldn't quite decipher. "Can you please let me be your friend?"
That was not what he was expecting. Many things had been asked of him over the years, but friendship was not one of them. His immediate impulse was to run, to run far away from Mika and Bucharest and Romania in general and go live somewhere where he would never be found. He was supposed to die as a myth, as a horrible ghost story to haunt those with enemies behind the curtain. He wasn't supposed to have a life, or a friend.
But maybe he could.
This statement shouldn't have surprised him - after all, he'd come to the same conclusion a week ago, that Mika thought of them as friends. But hearing her say it, out loud, so plainly and emphatically, threw him for a loop. He was supposed to be alone. He was supposed to live and die alone.
But perhaps he didn't have to.
"Okay." he said, steeling his resolve. He was tired, so very tired, of everything good being ripped away from him.
"Good. So after we're done with your lesson, I'll give one." she said. He paused, wondering if that meant their time would be doubled. That would increase the number of people likely to be up and about during their return trip, and when he went to the store for groceries. "It'll be ten minutes, I promise." she added.
"Okay." he said, mollified by her addendum. He could handle ten extra minutes. She looked rather proud of herself as he agreed, standing up taller and giving him a satisfied smile.
"Perfect. Please, continue." she said, gesturing for him to move on with the lesson. He paused, trying to remember what was next. They were supposed to review, then play the Reward Game, then...he couldn't remember what came next.
He'd accepted his memory lapses a while ago, but it still irked him when it happened. He pressed his lips together, trying to soothe his frustration as he carefully picked up his journal. He thumbed through to the page he was looking for, quickly reading over his list to recenter himself. There was only one thing left on the list for today, but it might take some time. He turned back to Mika, holding his hand out.
"Which hand do you want?" she asked, holding both up. He grinned.
"Both of them." he said, making her eyebrows raise.
"There is no way you can hold both of my hands with just one of yours." she said, putting her wrists on his hand. He held one wrist with his thumb and forefinger, and held the other with his remaining fingers. Once again, an emotion stirred in his chest. He couldn't quite place it, but it made him want to prove her wrong.
"Try it." he challenged. She eyed him seriously, her lips pressing together as she thought. He could see the wheels turning in her mind again, see her trying to problem solve her way out of it. Good, she was learning that she couldn't beat him with brute strength. She sank back on her legs, trying to drop her weight. If a normal man had been holding on with one hand, that would have worked. But of course, Bucky was able to keep his hold, barely moving.
"How are you so freakishly strong?" she asked, giving her arms a few more tugs just to see if he would budge.
"Science." he said, though he kept the explanation at that. He figured I was experimented on by rogue Nazi scientists would not be a socially acceptable response.
"Alright, Mr. Science Man. So how do I get out of this?" she asked. She was getting competitive again. He grinned at her eagerness.
"Bend your elbows to bring yourself closer." he said. She followed his instruction, stepping closer to him. Once again, he was caught off guard by how close she was, even with a solid half a meter between them. He could smell her shampoo again. He shook his head, refocusing. "Now, you want to kick my knee."
"I'm not breaking your knee." she said seriously. He let out an almost-laugh. Even if she somehow had the strength to hurt him, he'd heal within a day.
"You won't break my knee." he said, still amused at the idea. She looked at him from the corner of her eye before cautiously reaching with her foot, barely tapping the inside of his knee.
"Right there?" she asked hesitantly. He nodded, even if ideally the pressure was further posterior. For the sake of the exercise, it would work.
"Go on." he said, still casually holding her wrists. She needed to learn this. She hesitated, trying to get up the courage to try it. She pulled herself toward him perfectly, but slowed down after that, still barely touching his knee with her foot. Her eyes were wide, and she looked as if she were expecting him to fall apart in pain.
"I'm sorry, I know you say I won't hurt you, but I'm really afraid to." she said, pulling back. He let go of her wrists immediately, giving her space. He'd never seen her nervous like this, and the fact that it was over the idea of accidentally hurting him was baffling. Even if she were physically able to injure him, he wouldn't hold it against her. There's no way she could inflict more pain than he'd already experienced. No one in the past seventy years had cared about his pain. He'd forgotten what it felt like, to have someone concerned about him.
"I'll be fine." he said, as if it were the most factual and logical thing in the world. For all intents and purposes, it was.
"Is there a way we can practice without me full on kicking you?" she asked. She was wringing her hands, a more advanced nervous tell than what she typically displayed. He thought for a moment; they weren't going to get anywhere if she was afraid to hurt him, but she wouldn't know how to injure her enemy and free herself if she didn't learn the proper technique. He felt his brows knit together as he tried to figure out a way to solve this puzzle.
"You can just place your foot on my knee and lean into it. That's more what you want to do anyway - kick through completely." he said finally. That would teach her the weight shift necessary for the maneuver, while also allowing for the control aspect that she desired. And perhaps it would reinforce his strength, so that she would be less concerned about hurting him in the future.
"Okay, but you have to tell me when it's too much, okay?" she said, giving him one of the more serious expressions he'd ever seen on her. It struck a chord in him, though he didn't exactly understand why. He wasn't sure about this whole "feeling emotions" thing. It was easier to navigate social interactions when he didn't have distinct emotions, as opposed to the thick layer of anxiety that had coated his insides since he'd walked away from Hydra.
"I will." Bucky replied, holding his hand out to her. He kept his posture relaxed, though engaged his muscles. The stiller he remained, the more confident she would feel, and the better she would learn. She gave him her wrists, waiting for him to nod and give her the go-ahead. She pulled herself in again, picking her foot up and placing it on his knee. The scent of flowers surrounded him as she leaned into him, and he had to increase his focus to keep his leg from moving. She really was much stronger than she realized.
"Like this?" she asked. He nodded, taking a moment to gather his words before responding.
"They'll be surprised, and won't expect you to go for their legs. Distracting them here will both injure them and get them to let go. The knees are weaker going from side to side, rather than forward and back." he explained. His hope was, if she ever needed to, she could get the placement more correct. She pushed back, and he released her wrists, once again giving respectable space between the two of them. The floral scent faded.
"Assuming they're not super strong like you." she added resting her hands on her hips and grinning at him. If only you knew, he found himself thinking to himself, his mouth breaking into a smirk.
"They shouldn't be." he said. The likelihood of her encountering another super soldier in this lifetime was slim, though technically present. But unless she was involved in things that she had no business being involved in, then he would probably be the only one. He held his hand out again, stopping himself from that trail of thought. It would not do well to dwell on the idea of Mika meeting the other soldiers he'd known. "Try it faster."
She nodded, placing her wrists in his hand. She paused for a moment, and he could tell she was walking through the steps of the motion in her head. Good, she was learning to visualize her actions, to feel the movements before she attempted them. This would increase the rate at which she could learn the motor control necessary for the movements to become second nature. She wasn't impulsively trying to force them. He was more prepared this time as she pulled herself forward and put pressure into his knee, the floral scent that accompanied her swinging hair not distracting him as it had moments ago. She pushed off his knee, this time with a little more force and confidence.
"That was good." he said encouragingly. She was taking to this movement much better than the second technique he'd taught her. Her demeanor changed at the compliment; she stood a little taller, her shoulders back a little more. It was one of the few times that he was sure he'd responded to an interaction not only appropriately, but well. She gave him a meek smile, then held her hands out again, asking to try once more. With each repetition, her movements became smoother, more fluid. She was trusting her body - and his - more and more with each recurrence. It wasn't as difficult for her to switch legs as he thought it would be, and she required even less cuing for form. He found himself wishing he'd started with the Reward Game, figuring building that foundation sooner would have allowed for easier learning of the first techniques. Then again, maybe she needed to see where her weaknesses were in order to focus her practice. He couldn't be sure - he hadn't actually ever built a lesson plan before. Hydra's training could be better described as a "sink or swim" mentality.
"Now, what do I do if they pull me in too close? And I can't move my leg like that?" she asked, holding her arms up close to her chest. He could see what she meant, that there wouldn't be enough space for her to maneuver her leg in the proper direction for force. She was thinking if someone was chest-to-chest with her.
"Knee them in the groin." he said shortly. The answer was fairly obvious, given they were assuming her enemies would be male. She perked an eyebrow at him, and he wondered if he accidentally implied that that was next on their docket. It wasn't a big reach for that progression. But he'd not prepared in any way, shape, or form for such practice. Even if pain didn't scare him, there was one kind of pain that still gave him pause, no matter how many times Hydra tried to burn it out of him. "I'd rather not practice that."
Mika laughed, her eyes squinting with mirth as she placed a hand against her chest. He couldn't help but grin, feeling proud that he was able to illicit that response. "No, no I think we can skip the practice on that one." she said, her laughter still pervasive through her words. She let out a sigh as her giggles finally abated. "What's next?"
Bucky paused. Next? He'd forgotten again. He picked up his journal, finding the page he needed and consulting the list. He'd only written three things down for today - review, Reward Game, bilateral wrists anterior approach. They'd gone over all three things for today. Good, perfect timing. Now they could return and he could get his groceries before too many people were out.
"That's all I have for today. Unless there's anything else you'd like to do?" he said, looking to her. She smiled in a way that made him nervous.
"Just our little yoga session." she said cheerily. He gave her a blank look, having almost forgotten their conversation from earlier. He didn't think she'd been serious. He regretted agreeing to it, not knowing what he was getting into. He felt like ants were crawling up and down his spine and he tried to keep his breathing even. No matter what it was, training had not been a good thing for him in...he couldn't remember how long. "What, thought I'd forgotten?"
"Hoped you had." he murmured. His mouth felt dry. He had to remind himself of where he was, and who he was with. Twenty-two minutes ago, Mika had looked panicked because she was afraid to hurt him. She would not ask him to partake in anything knowing it would be harmful.
"Bucky Jones, you're not getting out of this." she said, pulling off her socks and shoes. This was the oddest start to training he'd ever seen. The nails of her toes were painted a bright pink, contrasting the burgundy she usually had on the nails of her hands. The mismatching was enough to pull him from the impending panic, but not enough to make him move. "Come on now, you said you would."
"So I did." he said, letting out a breath, willing his shoulders to relax. What had she mentioned earlier? Matching movement with breath. Control. Maybe this could be beneficial to him. He assumed he needed to remove his boots and his socks, which was a very uncomfortable idea to him. But Mika was looking at him expectantly, hands on hips and toes wiggling with their newfound freedom. He pulled his left hand out of his pocket, peeling the glove off. He went to tuck it in his back pocket so he could reapply it after untying his shoes, but decided to leave it off. After all, she'd already seen his silver arm and thought nothing of it. He purposely dropped it on top of his journal. He willed the silver fingers to obey his commands, hoping he wouldn't fumble with the laces of his boots as he normally did. It made his movements slow, but successful. He felt uncomfortable as the cool air hit his bare feet, but Mika didn't seem to think anything of it. She simply pointed him to a spot on the mat next to her, looking rather excited about her lesson. He wondered how she was able to prepare without any time to sit and plan.
"So, the key is that your movements are supposed to follow your breath. So breathe in and raise up," she took a deep breath in, raising her arms in a wide arc until they were above her head. Bucky eyed her, hesitantly putting his hands up in the air. Everything about this felt unfamiliar - not bad, necessarily, but definitely unfamiliar. "It only looks silly if you don't put in one hundred percent, Bucky." she scolded, making a jolt go through him.
"Sorry." he said. She gave her everything for his lessons, he could afford her the same decency. He brought his hands down, then raised them again in a wide arc as she had, breathing in deeply.
"Then let your breath out, and bring your arms down." she said, making the motion. He copied it exactly as she'd done. "Good! Again."
Breathe in, arms up. Breathe out, arms down. The next round, she had him bend forward at the waist, stretching the back of his legs. Breathe in, halfway up. Breathe out, back down. He thought he was relatively flexible, but when he glanced to make sure his form was proper, Mika had her forehead against her legs, her arms hugging her knees. Clearly she was very practiced in these movements.
Breathe in, hands on the floor, feet out behind him in a plank. Breathe out, lower to the ground. The plates of his arm clicked into place, the gears inside turning with mechanical sounds. Breathe in, move just his chest up. Breathe out, push back, stretching his legs and straightening his arms. It was a vulnerable position, but the gym was still very quiet. He could tell if there were any threats. The metal of his hand wanted to slip against the surface of the mat, but he could tighten the fingers to keep his position. Oddly enough, he didn't have to work as hard to control the arm with these movements.
Breathe in, bend his knees. Breathe out, feet back between his hands. Mika made the motions look very graceful, whereas his felt clunky, hesitant. She'd changed her tone of voice with the instruction so it was softer, more even. She took him through the movements again, giving him little tips to make the poses easier. Breathe in, move, hold. Breathe out, move, hold. It actually was quite relaxing, and he found that the errant thoughts constantly running through his head were quieted. After another round, she had him sit with his legs crossed and his arms on his knees. She continued to pace his breathing, having him bring his awareness to different parts of his body. Perhaps yoga wasn't so bad after all.
Their quiet meditation was interrupted by her stomach grumbling, the growls echoing in the quiet room. He wanted to laugh, but he didn't want to disrespect the moment. He pressed his lips together, taking another slow breath so he could be sure his voice was steady.
"Maybe it's time for breakfast." he said. He kept his eyes closed, but he could hear her moving, fidgeting.
"I agree." she said, falling out of the position. He opened her eyes to see her slipping her socks and shoes back on, and grabbed his own. "You'll stop in for a cup of coffee, yea?"
Let me be your friend. He paused, his fingers stalling on the laces of his boots. He should decline. He really should. "Sure." he said, continuing to don his boots. She smiled, hopping up and going to where she'd discarded her cold weather clothes and her bag. He pulled his glove back on, covering the metal of his hand. He turned to see her holding his jacket out to him, her sweatshirt, gloves, and hat already on. He took it with a nod, pulling it on before putting his journal in his backpack and following her towards the exit.
It was a quiet walk back to their apartment building, the world just beginning to wake up. The first golden rays of sun were peaking between the buildings, bathing everything in a warm light. He didn't feel the stress he'd felt last week; in fact, he felt more at ease than he had in a long time. He hesitated at the top of the stairs, habits wanting him to go to his door instead of hers. But he waited until she unlocked her door and stepped in before decidedly following her in, closing the door softly behind them. She once again tossed her shoes into the pile and discarded her bag on the dining room table. He took a seat at the bar stool at the island again, deciding that was a safe bet. She turned her coffee maker on before pulling her phone out and somehow getting music to play through some speakers. It seemed she didn't care for silence.
"Oh, I heard you met Elena again last night." she said after handing him his coffee. She'd given him the same mug she had last week, with delicate flowers painted on the side. She gazed at him over the rim of her own mug.
"Your friend? Dark, curly hair?" he asked. He knew she was definitely Mika's friend, as she'd been there the first time they'd truly interacted. He also knew she'd mentioned her name before, but he'd forgotten it. He tried to commit it to memory now.
"The one and only." she said, her tone betraying her affection for her friend. She cut herself a piece of some sort of loaf, offering him a slice as well. He shook his head, as he could smell the sugar from where he was sitting.
"Didn't introduce herself. Just invited me for drinks." he expanded. She nodded, her face saying that she wasn't surprised at the commentary. Did Elena make it a habit of befriending strangers?
"Yea, that sounds about right." she said, moving to the same side of the island as him and jumping up to sit on the counter. He tried to hide his surprise that she was willingly sitting so close to him. "You should definitely come out with us sometime."
"Got work." he replied, taking a sip of the coffee. He was glad to have the excuse, that way he didn't have to explain how he would have no idea how to act in a social situation like that.
"Every night?" she asked, giving him a pointed look. Ah, caught in his equivocation. He should have known better, Mika was too smart to miss that. And too stubborn to let it pass.
"Maybe." he answered, giving a little bit of tone to it. This kind of conversation was starting to feel familiar - bantering was the word he was looking for. This was the way it was, before, when he talked with his friends.
"Don't you lie to me," she said, trying to make a stern face. Even though she was much stronger than she gave herself credit for, it was still comical to see her trying to act tough. "You must have at least one night off."
She was asking a lot of questions about his schedule. The logical part of his brain knew that she was just making conversation, that she was just trying to gain some insight in the case that she could extend an invitation to him. But the other part of his brain, the part that had been damaged and repaired by Hydra, started feeling paranoid. She didn't need to know his full schedule.
"They're usually during the week." he said slowly, hoping that she would think that the days weren't set. Which, technically, they weren't.
"Well if you ever have a weekend night off, consider it." she said. She said it in such a way that he didn't think she was going to pursue his answer further. "Is it hard, working nights?" she said, and he was grateful for the change in subject.
"Not really. Don't really sleep much anyways." he said with a shrug. Day or night, he tended to be awake. The longer he stayed awake, the less likely he was to have a nightmare. Not to mention, the less time he had to worry about potential enemies finding his location. "Plus, it helps me avoid people." he added, deciding on a whim to throw in a little extra bit of truth.
"People are the worst." she agreed, rolling her eyes for emphasis. He lifted one eyebrow. She seemed to be a generally social person - perhaps not particularly so in the past month, but she was always in and out of her apartment before that.
"I'm not sure you mean that." he said, trying to figure out if she was kidding. It sounded like she was kidding, but her face was relatively serious. He couldn't differentiate her meaning.
"I like approximately four people in this world. Well, five now. Anyone else is extra." she replied, gesturing casually towards him with her coffee mug. He felt himself sit up straight, though he hadn't realized he was leaning against the back of the chair. There it was again, the casual mention of them being friends. Like it was no big deal. Like it didn't give her concern at all.
He suddenly felt uncomfortable. Whether she was serious or not, no one had said anything like this to him in...he couldn't remember when. He knew him and Steve had been friends, the best of friends, but he didn't remember how or when that friendship had formed. In his head, it just always was. It had been the thing he was most sure about in his life. Till the end of the line, that's what they'd said to each other. It was a given. But this? This relationship with Mika was new, and terrifying. He didn't have the security of deeply rooted ties. It was still fragile. "Well, I'm glad I can be ranked so highly in this competition."
"It's very prestigious. You should be honored." she said, hopping off the counter and taking her plate to the sink. Again, she said it so cavalierly, unaware of the whirlwind going through his brain. Last week, the idea of a friend had occurred to him. This week, it had been cemented. He waited until she moved from the sink before stepping to it himself, rinsing the empty mug and gently placing it in the sink. She leaned against the island, her mug still in her hands. "Off to get groceries again?"
One of these days, he was going to have to ask if she was telepathic. But he remembered that's what he'd done last week, and realized that she probably just remembered it from then. "If I hurry, I can get there before everyone else." he said.
"Well better get going then." she responded. "Thank you again, for the lesson this morning."
"Same to you." he said, moving towards the door. He really did like the yoga lesson, and found that he wouldn't mind if she expanded on it the next time. If there was, in fact, a next time.
"Oh! I have something for you." she said, just as he opened the door. He paused, turning back to her. What could she have for him?
"What?" he asked, surprised. She grabbed her purse from the floor, rummaging around for a moment. His nerves picked up; he'd not had good experiences with people rummaging in bags with 'something for him'. She pulled out a small plastic thing, barely a few centimeters long and wide. He'd seen something like it before, and had retrieved a few bloodstained ones. But he didn't know what they did. It hadn't been his job to ask questions.
"I put a bunch of movies on a USB for you." she said, proudly showing the stick to him. Separately, he understood most of the words of that sentence. But put them together, and he had no idea what they meant.
"A what?" he asked. How could a movie be on that little thing? Weren't they on reels?
"A USB? Thumb drive? You plug it in your computer, it'll pull the movie files right up." she explained. Files? Files were wide pieces of paper. He'd retrieved many files before as well.
"Don't have a computer." he said. What would he do with it? Too easy to track. That's how his targets had been located.
"What?!" she exclaimed. Her face betrayed her surprise, but it didn't last long before acceptance set in. "Well, you don't have a phone, so I guess I shouldn't be so surprised."
"Not big on technology." he said, shrugging. Technology made it too easy to trace. She held up a finger, asking him to hold on before pulling open a drawer. Once again, he had to keep himself from ducking. She didn't pull out a weapon, instead she just pulled out another plastic piece and clicked it onto the first one.
"Here, now you can connect it directly to your TV through an HDMI port." she said. He pressed his lips together, feeling a slight increase in temperature in his cheeks. Mika was always trying to be a problem solver.
"Don't have a television." he said softly. Her reaction made him think he was supposed to feel bad, but her expression was amusing. She let out a noise somewhere between shock and rage, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning. It was kind of funny, making her react like this.
"You're such a hipster." she said, rolling her eyes. He had no idea what that word meant, and chalked it up to a Romanian colloquialism. "Okay, fine. When's your next night off?"
A direct question. He could lie, if he wanted to. His training wanted him to. She'd never know the difference. "Tomorrow night. Why?" he asked, deciding to tell the truth. He could feel how stiff his posture was, how suspicious his face must look. But he couldn't pull it away this time, couldn't relax the knot between his shoulders. She must have registered his change in demeanor, because she softened, her expression gentler.
"If you're not busy, I'd love for you to come watch a movie. We can order food and make a whole night of it." she said softly. Another invitation. He should turn her down. He should run, and never speak to her or think of her ever again. She was requesting more time with him, alone, in her apartment. In close quarters. Let me be your friend.
"Okay." he agreed. He almost didn't believe the word when it came out of his mouth. But this was the right thing to do. Friends accepted invitations. Friends didn't worry about spending time together.
"Excellent! I'll be home all evening, so you can just come over whenever." she said, once again giving him a dazzling smile. She was trying to be casual.
"Six o'clock?" he asked. He needed a time, needed a schedule. He couldn't just come to her place of residence at any time. He needed something he could write down.
"Works for me." she said. She looked like she wanted to be more expressive, but was holding herself back. He felt bad that she felt the need to do that, but was grateful for it. The idea of the upcoming interaction was already starting to build the anxiety in his chest. Training? Sure, he could handle that. Physical work? A good distractor. But the idea of simply sitting and watching a movie felt completely alien to him.
"Until then." he said. He needed to go. He needed to do something trivial, something routine. He needed to go get groceries. He gave her a nod and ducked into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He didn't stop in his apartment, he simply went down the stairs. He could already see the few pedestrians on the street below, making their way to wherever they were going. They wouldn't notice him.
"Excuse me? Excuse me, please! We're lost, we need some help." a girl's voice drifted across the street. Bucky glanced to the other sidewalk, seeing a dark haired girl and a girl with purple hair trying to get the attention of anyone around them. Everyone who passed them gave them odd looks, though he couldn't see a reason for it. Sure, they looked a little tired, but otherwise not out of the ordinary. He ducked his head down and kept on his way, figuring someone else would stop and assist them. He could hear the dark haired girl as she continued to reach out to the people passing by, her voice getting more frantic. He heard the other girl cut in, saying they should go back to the convenience store and ask again to charge their phones.
Bucky stopped, realizing why no one was paying attention to the girls. They were speaking French. He looked at them out of the corner of his eye, trying to decide what to do. On one hand, it would be the good, right thing to stop and help them. On the other hand, that would be a very much unplanned social interaction, after Mika had added variables to their interaction this morning. The brunette looked like she wanted to cry; the purple haired girl looked annoyed. His training pulled at him, telling him to keep walking. They would figure out. It was unnecessary contact. He did not train for unnecessary contact.
Hydra didn't care how often he fell down, only if he got back up. And he always got back up, until he physically wasn't capable. That's what built his strength. They praised his stubbornness. Training wanted him to run. He wanted his training to fuck off.
It would be quick, he decided. He pushed his way across the street and towards them, ignoring the way his muscles wanted to move the opposite direction.
"Excuse me, do you need some help?" he said when he was a few feet away from them, switching to French. The brunette squealed, her eyes lighting up as she recognized the language. Even the other girl perked up, looking hopeful.
"Thank God! Finally!" the brunette said. "We just got in this morning, and our phones are dead and the taxi guy dropped us off at the wrong place and-"
"We can't find our hotel." the other girl interrupted, putting her hands on her friend's arms.
"What hotel are you looking for?" Bucky asked, trying to maintain a respectable distance between them while still being close enough for them to hear him. She showed him her hand, where she'd written the hotel name. Apparently she was afraid to try and pronounce it.
"Do you know where it is?" the girl with the purple hair asked. He nodded; he learned where most everything was in a ten-kilometer radius.
"You want to go back up that way until you find a bank with a lion statue in front of it. Turn right, and it'll be about a kilometer down on the left. It has a green awning in front of it." he explained, gesturing in the direction they wanted to go.
"Turn right at the bank with the lion, look for a green awning on the left." the brunette repeated. Bucky nodded. "Thank you, thank you so much."
"You're welcome. Have a good one." he said, pushing past them and continuing his trek towards the store. He kept his head down and ignored them as they called after him, not wanting to draw out this interaction any longer. His mouth felt funny from speaking French after speaking Romanian for so long, but not necessarily in a bad way. It just worked a part of his brain (and body) that had been idle for a long time.
The store was quiet as he entered, and he was glad that at least one thing was going as planned today. He went through his usual aisles, gathering the various prepackaged foods he usually bought. He paused before going to the checkout counter, grabbing another bag of oranges and adding it to his pile.
There was still a lot of work to do.
Thank you so much for your support for this story! It's seriously astounding to me...and I'm glad y'all love Bucky as much as I do! I'm hoping we make it to 100 reviews soon, and if we do, I'd love to do a fun something to celebrate! My thoughts right now are a Q&A video, or possibly a cameo for a reviewer in an upcoming chapter! Either leave your opinion here, or you can hit me up on tumblr under the username whindsor.
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!