Chapter 18: Auld Lang Syne
Mika pushed into her apartment, trying to manage her suitcase and the extra packages from her Christmas adventures with her mother and sister. It wasn't as bad as it could have been - after all, she'd manage to only get in five fights with her mother over the course of the week they were together. Now, back home alone, her apartment suddenly seemed very quiet and a little lonely. She pulled her phone from her pocket, getting it to connect to the bluetooth speakers and starting up whatever playlist that was going in the car. She couldn't care less what music was on, she just needed to fill the silence.
She left her suitcase next to the door, deciding to have Future Mika deal with it. She deposited the large box of new baking tins onto her kitchen island, figuring it would be much more fun to unpack those than deal with actual responsibilities. She took the old tins out and set them next to the sink, telling herself that she needed to give them a good, thorough cleaning before donating them. And since she was getting the new ones out, she might as well break them in a little bit, especially before the New Year's Resolutions started tomorrow.
Halfway through the unpacking, she was distracted by her phone ringing. "Alo?" she answered after spotting Elena's name on the caller ID.
"It's New Year's Eve, please tell me you're not going to fight me on coming out tonight." she said by way of greeting. Mika could hear the wind whistling; Elena must already be walking towards her apartment.
"Of course not." Mika replied emphatically, though the thought had definitely crossed her mind more than once. "In fact, I'm just about to make some snacks for us so we can end the year right and start the new one even better."
"That's what I like to hear!" Elena said. Mika heard her thank someone, and suddenly the wind was very quiet. She must have made it into the building. "Anyway, I'll see you in a minute. Leave your door unlocked."
"Doesn't seem to matter if I do or not." Mika sighed, and Elena only laughed before hanging up. She put away the tins she wasn't planning to use and pulled out the new baking sheets, preheating the oven before gathering her ingredients. She had just started measuring things out when Elena popped through the door.
"Happy New Year!" she sang, entering with a flourish. She pulled off her winter wear, laying them over one of the chairs. She had already donned her black, sparkly dress for the evening, and while her shoes were a little more practical for the weather, they were still tall.
"It's not the new year yet." Mika pointed out, continuing with her mixes. Elena collapsed onto the stool at the island, resting her chin in her hand and heaving a mournful sigh.
"Close enough." she said, eyeing the bowls in front of her. "What are we making?"
"'We'?" she asked with a perked eyebrow. "I am making pastries. You, on the other hand, are watching."
"Supervising, I'm supervising." Elena corrected, getting up and pulling the kettle from its spot on the counter and filling it. "And I'm making tea."
"Ah yes, a decision that only someone in your esteemed position could make." Mika teased, finishing combining her dough and putting it in the refrigerator.
"Well one of us has to work around here. Look at you, no pastry in sight." she pointed out, crossing her arms. She tried to make her pose intimidating, but it didn't work. "I have to keep you in line."
"It has to chill. In the meantime, come help me pick out an outfit. I want to make sure to start the new year off right." she distracted her, pulling her into her bedroom. They both ignored the massive mess that remained from her slumber party with Nicoletta, picking their way through Mika's closet until they created a suitable ensemble. They passed the time gabbing and gossipping, discussing both Elena's current science projects and her current flirtation with the guy from IT. Mika carefully turned and chilled her pastry until it built up enough layers for her to work with, then proceeded to carefully cut her pastries while Elena carefully poured them some spiced wine. Cream cheese and fruit were arranged on the artfully cut pastry squares, and a few minutes later her apartment held the wonderful scent of spices and baked goods.
"Is your handsome neighbor man coming out with us?" Elena asked, ignoring how hot the treats were straight out of the oven and juggling it between her hands until it cooled enough to hold.
"I don't think Bucky really believes in going out." Mika replied, not really blaming him. If it weren't a holiday, she would definitely prefer to be at home as well. But it was New Year's Eve, and she needed to go out and celebrate. That's what she kept telling herself, at least.
"But you won't know for sure unless you ask him." she pestered, talking with her mouth full. She still held the pastry by the tips of her fingers, but was determined to eat it post haste, temperature be damned. "I'm trying to get you a date here."
"I don't think he believes in dating either. And if he did, I'm approximately ninety percent sure he would not be interested in me. But besides all that, he is, in fact, just a friend." she retorted, trying to halt this train of thought that her friend was on. She meant well, but Mika was not in a place to try and date anybody, and she knew Bucky was not either.
"Fine. Well you should still invite your friend out with us. To be polite." she persisted, finally finishing her treat and grabbing another. Mika grabbed one as well, chewing thoughtfully as she considered Elena's point. If Bucky wasn't celebrating Christmas, then odds are he wasn't celebrating New Year's. And he probably preferred to stay home. But he was still relatively new in town, and may not have many friends yet. If there was a small chance that he was hoping to celebrate...
Maybe it didn't hurt to ask.
"Guess I could, just in case." she said, taking one of the pastries and cutting it in half. She slid it on to a napkin and ignored Elena's smug, victorious look as she walked out of her apartment and across the hall. It occurred to her, standing in front of his door, that she had no idea if Bucky was home. He could be out. Or, even worse, he could be there. She suddenly felt shy, even though it was just Bucky and she was just asking if he wanted to come out with her friends tonight. She steeled her resolve, reminding herself that the worst he could say was no, and that they would still be friends, and that nothing would change. He'd told her no before, and the world hadn't ended. Finally, she knocked.
There was silence for a long time, so long that she figured he wasn't home. But then she heard the lock quietly turning, and soon the door opened. Bucky was a little more at ease than the last time she'd called on him like this, resting against the doorframe and giving her that same small smile he always did. His left arm, she noticed, was still hidden behind the door.
"Everything alright?" he asked. There was that vague concern behind his eyes, the one that he wore when there was any uncertainty in a situation. Though he still leaned against the door, his feet were angled just right to move if the need arose.
"Absolutely." she said instantly, trying to reassure him. His posture did relax somewhat - as much as it ever did. "Two things...actually, three things, now that I think about it."
His eyebrows rose, a subtle look of surprise crossing his face. "Let's hear it." he said, his tone light and encouraging. He even gave her a little smile again.
"First of all, try this." she replied, holding up the half dessert. Bucky gave her a mildly annoyed look, but picked it up and took a bite of it anyway. He didn't grimace, which was a good sign, but he didn't finish the bit, which wasn't as good of a sign.
"The pastry is good, but the filling is too sweet. I'm sorry." he said. Mika's face lit up in triumph as she plucked the remaining pastry from his hand, popping it in her mouth.
"One step closer!" she exclaimed. "Okay second, we're going out to the pub tonight for New Year's. You wanna come with us?"
In his defense, he did actually contemplate her offer for a few seconds before saying, "I think I'm just going to stay in tonight. Thank you." He looked apologetic, his voice quiet and hesitant. Mika shrugged, trying extra hard to appear nonchalant.
"That's what I figured, but I wanted to ask just in case." she said. "In that case, do you want to work out in the morning? Start the new year off right?"
He considered her question for a moment, and she was worried that maybe she was being a little too forward. But then he grinned and said, "We can do that. Make up for last weekend."
Mika felt relieved as he agreed, a little weight lifting from her shoulders. "Perfect. I'll be tired, but I'll make it work. Thanks, Bucky."
"Anytime. Oh, wait here." he seemed to have remembered something, ducking back into his apartment. She was confused for a moment; this seemed unlike him, though she couldn't put her finger on why. He came back with a chocolate cupcake, smartly decorated in red frosting and nestled in a green tissue paper cup that opened like leaves. Little pearls - which she assumed were edible - were pressed into the frosting. "They've been selling them for the past week at the bakery. Today was the last day. I thought you might enjoy one."
She was floored. Bucky was a very generous person, yes. But he wasn't ever one for surprises, even small ones like this. Everything Bucky did was planned, except when she was a bit of an asshole and asked him to change it. Mika felt her cheeks flush as she took the sweet from him, her voice caught in her throat for a moment.
"Thank you, it looks amazing." she said, her heart burning with affection. For the first time, she had no doubts that they were friends. "That was very sweet of you."
He shrugged off the compliment, suddenly looking modest. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, a nervous gesture that she'd never seen him do before. It was like he was another version of himself, a version that he usually kept locked away. "I hope you like it." he murmured.
"I'm sure I will. Thank you, so much." she said. She wanted desperately to hug him, but didn't think he would appreciate the gesture. Instead she just smiled brightly, and offered him what he really wanted - a way out of this conversation. "It'll be a perfect way to start the new year. Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow?"
"See you in the morning." he said, his voice calm and assuring as it always was. She gave him one last smile before turning and going back to her apartment, and could have sworn she heard him let out a breath behind her. Elena was finishing the last of the wine straight from the bottle, packing the few pastries left into a little container to take to the pub.
"So? What did he say?" she asked, dancing along to the music playing through the speakers. In Mika's absence, she'd hijacked the bluetooth connection and changed the selection to something a little more upbeat.
"Said he was gonna stay in tonight, just like I thought he would." she replied, going into her room to change. She strategically left out that they had plans for the morning - she knew her friend would never leave her alone in that case. Elena booed hysterically from the kitchen.
"One day he needs to come hang out with us." she complained, coming into the bedroom and flopping onto the bed while Mika did her makeup in the bathroom.
"I agree. But he's shy and suspicious, you've got to let him warm up first." she explained. She neglected to tell her how Bucky didn't like crowds, or strangers, or new situations, and thus would probably never agree to go to the pub. She'd let Elena hold out her hope a little longer.
"Oh, he's so dark and tortured." she said dramatically, flipping around so she was laying on her stomach. "Maybe he's like a spy or something, and he has to live undercover. You could be compromising his operation by being his friend."
Mika let out a very lady-like snort. "Pretty sure he's just been through some shit and wants to live a quiet life now." she said, pulling out her curling iron and carefully working it through her hair. Though she had to admit, the spy thing didn't seem...unlikely. She shook her head, clearing her mind of the thoughts before they could take hold. She did not need to envisage her neighbor as some sort of secret agent.
"Pretty sure he's a spy. Oh my god, what if you end up like one of those action-adventure rom-com girls? You'd look so good in leather pants on a motorcycle." Elena said, gasping at the thought.
"How much of that wine did you have?" she asked, laughing at her friend's antics. She always wondered if Elena's talents weren't better suited for the stage than the science lab.
"Enough to start writing a screenplay in my head starring you and your neighbor." she replied, hopping off the bed to find shoes for Mika to wear.
"Is it gonna be a huge summer blockbuster? Is it gonna make me millions? I'd love to retire by thirty." she added, finishing with the curling iron and going to take the shoes from Elena. With everything set, they layered their winter clothes on and trudged through the ice and snow to the pub.
It was already packed by the time they got there, and patrons were less likely to leave due to the weather conditions outside. Mika and Elena pushed their way to the bar, waiting patiently for Hans to have a moment for them. He was in the zone, handing out drinks and taking money like a machine. When he finally reached his friends, he let out a long, tired sigh.
"It's barely ten o'clock, and I'm already about to pass out." he said, already mixing their drinks even though they hadn't even said hello.
"Here, you need some sugar." Mika said, pulling the tupperware of pastries from her purse and passing them over the bar to him. He took it and paused, staring at the desserts in wonder before turning back to the girls.
"Bless you. First drink is on the house tonight." he said, popping the top open and eating an entire pastry in one bite. With his renewed energy, he finished their drinks and handed them over. The girls took them gratefully, leaving cash on the bar top when he wasn't looking and walking to the table where their friends were at. Mika was glad to see that Alexei was either not there yet or wasn't coming; she was not willing to deal with his shenanigans tonight.
"Finally! Thought you two were never going to make it." Nicolae said, holding his drink up in a cheers as they sat down.
"We had to be fashionably late, of course." Elena said, taking the last of his chips and beginning to munch on them.
"Left me alone with these two assholes is what you did." Maria said, giving them the most demoralizing glare she could. She couldn't hold it long, her smile breaking as Nicolae and Jonas shouted in resentment.
"We are nothing but perfect gentlemen." Jonas said indignantly, making an innocent face. Nicolae matched him, both of them trying to garner any sort of pity from the group. Maria wiped the condensation from her drink, sweeping her hand across their faces and breaking their guiltless facades. The girls laughed as the boys sputtered, ranting about trust and friendship and utter betrayal.
They stayed at the table most of the night, happy to just sit and chatter and not run the risk of losing their spots. Hans stopped by when he could, dropping off drinks and taking a seat for a few moments. This was, by far, the craziest night of the year for him and the pub. Mika and Elena had tried time and again to volunteer for the night, but he always turned them down. Usually he said something about wanting them to enjoy the holiday.
"You should get some extra help." Elena said as the man crumpled into a chair next to them. She rubbed his back fondly as he rested his head on his arms, his fatigue evident in both his face and his posture.
"That would require me to talk to strangers and somehow trust someone without actually knowing them." he said, his voice almost getting lost in the hubbub from the crowd.
"But you hired Agatha." Mika pointed out, referring to the woman who ran the kitchen. She was a stern looking, middle-aged Greek woman who spoke just enough Romanian to figure out what Hans wanted her to cook, but everything always came out perfectly.
"Agatha came with the place. Sometimes I wonder if she's just a ghost and her spirit is tied to it." Hans said, his brows furrowing as if he'd forgotten about this hypothesis. His eyes went unfocused for a second as he did the math in his head before shaking himself out of it. "Besides, usually this sort of thing is manageable. It's just the holiday. Speaking of, I have our finale to attend to, see you lot in a little bit."
He abruptly stood and left, heading through the door in the back that led to the roof. The group was silent for a moment before continuing on, figuring that Hans would return to them when the time was right. Sure enough, a half an hour later, he popped back into the pub, letting out a sharp whistle to gain everyone's attention. The pub went eerily silent at that point, the quiet deafening after the ruckus that had been going for the past while.
"How does he do that? He wasn't even that loud." Elena whispered, making Mika shrug.
"He has powers that we will never understand." she replied, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper over the rim of her drink.
"Okay, if everyone would go ahead and make their way to the roof, the countdown will start soon." he said, gesturing grandly towards the door. Mika grabbed her coat from the back of her chair, slipping it on and following her friends as the herd shuffled them towards the stairs. The winter air was very cold, but at least the snow had stopped, and Hans had cleared the roof of any dangerous ice. A large cauldron of cider sat over a small flame, the drink already warm as they poured themselves glasses of it. Staticky noise from the old television perched on the table told them how much time was left until midnight. Mika and Elena hugged each other close, trying to keep some semblance of warmth between them in the winter air.
"What are your goals for the new year, El?" Mika asked softly, taking in these last few minutes of the night. New Year's had always been her one of her favorite holidays - it was always so bright, so optimistic. It made her feel braver, somehow.
"Eat more, drink less, fall in love a couple times...the usual. Oh! And to submit my consideration to be part of the research on antibiotics and superbugs." she said, giving an emphatic nod to solidify her statement.
"You better submit that, you'd be perfect for the project." she said encouragingly, giving her friend a squeeze.
"Mika, you know nothing about antibiotics or superbugs." she reminded her, her tone only slightly condescending.
"Perhaps not. But I do know you, and you're brilliant, so I stand by my statement." she said, giving her a smug grin. Elena smirked back, huddling in a little closer to her.
"I mean, you're not wrong." she said, taking a sip from her cup. "What about you? Big plans for the new year?"
"I want to make everything from the French pastry book that Nicoletta got me for my birthday. And I want to move to a different department at work. And maybe learn how to quilt." she decided, gazing off into the distance as she settled on her targets.
"Quilt?" she asked, surprised at the ambition. "Do you even own a sewing machine?"
"That's step one in the plan." she replied, resting her cheek against the top of her friend's head.
"And why the sudden interest in quilting?" Elena prompted further. Mika shrugged.
"I don't know. Just seems like a good skill to have." she said. Truth be told she had little to no crafting skills, but she did like blankets and was good at math. She could figure out the rest later.
With a minute left until midnight, Hans finally reappeared from the pub below. He crawled across a wooden plank to the roof next door, pulling two long lighters from his pockets as the final countdown started on the television. Everyone called out the numbers as they passed, the tension building as the clock ticked forward. A loud cheer rang out as it reached zero, the sound echoing back to them from other parts of the city. Kisses were pressed to cheeks and drinks were finished, the celebrations interrupted by fireworks blasting into the sky from the rooftop next door.
Mika watched with tipsy wonder as the brilliant rockets shot into the air, the sparkles raining down above them in a dazzling display. The colors reflected off any shining surface, painting the world in a kaleidoscope of light. She felt the boom as each one exploded, jumping every time even though she knew it was coming, her heart swelling at the dazzling spectacle. When the show was over, they returned to the pub, though Mika kept her coat on and stayed standing, even though her friends returned to their seats at the table. She bid her goodbyes and gave her last kisses before returning to the cold and trudging home, the continued fireworks from other parts of the city lighting her path.
When she finally made it to her floor, she paused in front of Bucky's door, wondering if she should knock again and wish him a happy new year. She even had her hand up, poised to tap against it. At the last minute, she remembered his words about wanting to spend a quiet night in. Maybe - hopefully - he was already asleep. As he should be. As she should be. She put her hand down, instead going to her own door and letting herself in. Her Christmas cupcake still sat proudly on the counter, the little pearls shining in the low light from her lamp. She smiled, carefully picking it up and peeling the green tissue from it. The cake was still moist and chocolatey, the buttercream soft and cinnamon flavored. It was the perfect end to the night. She washed up just enough to be presentable in the morning before tumbling into bed, checking multiple times to make sure her alarm was still set. It would be a good year, she concluded.
Bucky tried to perform his perimeter rounding that night, after his conversation with Mika. But the streets were packed, the traffic flow completely altered compared to anything he'd seen before. So he'd retreated to his apartment, deciding that maybe he should actually do what he said he was going to do - spend the night in. He could still hear the sounds echoing from the streets below as the entire city wandered out for the holiday celebrations. So many people would skew his senses, and also increase the likelihood of his face getting recognized. Most everyone had smartphones these days, and more than once he'd almost been caught in the background as someone took a picture of themselves. What were those called? Selvesies?
No, there would be a change of plans for tonight. Tonight would be his first attempt at cooking. With most everyone in the apartment building out and about, he didn't have to worry about anyone going in search of a burning smell - especially his very observant neighbor. The stove had taken him a few minutes to figure out, but the buttons were relatively intuitive. He'd figured out much more complicated machinery before.
Pots and pans were more expensive than he thought they would be, but that didn't deter him. He'd saved up a fair bit of cash, stowed away under the floorboards in case of emergency. The expensive part had been his grocery bill, as most of the recipes had common ingredients that he had never purchased. At least, not to his knowledge. He organized his new produce carefully on the kitchen island. Mika's book was propped open on the corner, far from the disaster zone that was potentially brewing. The recipe seemed simple enough - as the title of the book suggested - but he was still determined to follow it dutifully. He remembered cooking from before, but it required a lot of boiling and not a lot of seasoning. The picture in his mind didn't match the food he'd been presented with the last few months.
It started easy enough - pan over medium heat, butter in the pan. Chop onions, chop carrots, chop celery. Add to the pan and the butter. He found his metal arm was particularly adept at mincing the vegetables, though a few errant pieces did take flight when he tried to see how fast he could move the blade. He carefully sliced a clove of garlic, adding it to the pan as well. While they were cooking, he carefully measured and mixed various herbs and spices. The aromatics mixing in the air smelled different than he thought they would, but he liked it.
He didn't like the way it felt to hold the chicken breast in his metal hand, but he did trust it to sprinkle the seasonings over it. He carefully massaged the mixture into the chicken, and when the required time stated in the recipe passed, he placed the meat into the pan. The sizzling sound and smell of the spices filled his apartment with possibly the most positive thing that had been in there since he moved in. Eight minutes later, he took the bright green spatula he'd purchased (it was cheapest) and flipped the chicken. He checked the clock on the oven, beginning to time the second eight minutes. In the meantime, he figured he should start cleaning the mess on the counter.
Boom. Pop.
Bucky ducked down behind the kitchen island, listening as more bangs echoed around his windows. Gunfire? It had to be gunfire. This was it, he'd been found. He bear crawled into the living room, shoving his mattress up to cover the largest window. He waited for the impact of the blasts, but they never came. Instead the sounds continued to echo around him, surrounding him and pressuring him until he was completely overwhelmed. He sank to his knees and held his head in his hands, trying to cover up the sounds as they rampaged around him. He realized the lights were the bright colors of fireworks instead of the hot white flashes from weapons, but that didn't change anything. Instead of the slow, spiraling descent into his memories, he was violently thrust into them, his muscles seizing as the Soldier sank his claws into his mind.
He didn't know where he was, but it didn't matter. The cold was surrounding him. He had his guns, and his knives. He had his tactical gear. The insurgents were already attacking him, but he didn't care. He could see the bullets before they hit him, feel them moving through the air as they rushed toward him. He moved his arm without thinking, the rounds glancing off the vibranium. They could do nothing to hurt him, to stop him. Their attempts were futile.
A man engaged him from the left; he was easily dispensed. The Soldier grabbed the man's gun, emptying the magazine into one of his comrades nearby. A knife sank into his leg, but he disregarded it. He removed it without hesitation and stabbed it into the neck of the man who once wielded it. Three men engaged at once, effectively distracting him from the other gunmen. He noted the lights as they blasted him with more rounds; a few of them sunk into him, but he didn't care. He didn't need to. He didn't feel pain.
A loud beeping cut into the memory. Beeping? There was no beeping in the Russian wilderness. The Soldier checked his perimeter, but there were no more insurgents, no more gunfire. Only the cold wind, the icy pelts raining from the sky, and that incessant, insufferable beeping.
Bucky was suddenly brought back to himself, the fire alarm yelling at him from the middle of the room. For a moment, he completely forgot himself - forgot where he was and what he was doing. And then the pieces of his life fell back into place, and he was brought back to the present. His chicken was burning.
The cacophony outside had stopped, the lights no longer flashing. He sprinted to the stove, pushing the pan away from the hot portion of the top. He grabbed a dish towel and fanned it at the smoke alarm, trying to get the horrendous beeping to stop. It felt like knives sinking into his aching head. When it was finally silent, he was left with nothing but inedible supper and the lingering stench of burning. He balled his fists, slamming his right hand into the wall. Pain bloomed over his knuckles, and he shook his hand out. The pain was good, he told himself. The Soldier didn't feel pain. Only the Man did. The Man felt pain, he felt pain. And he also felt annoyance, and disappointment, and anger. Deep, burning anger. He punched the wall again, moving and swiping the still hot pan so that it went flying across the tiny kitchen and crashed against the wall. He hands clenched again, but he stayed them this time. With the agonizing feeling of defeat, he leaned against the kitchen island, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees, idly turning his wrists. His right hand was still sore from the wall, and his left hand still felt vaguely unnatural, the same way it had felt for the past however many decades.
He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he pulled himself off the floor. He meticulously cleaned the island, the cooktop, the wall, and the floor until it was spotless again. He put away his new utensils and pan, and organized his spices on the countertop. He marked the page in the book and placed it back in its place. The pulled the mattress from the wall, laying it in its place and arranging his linens. He pulled off his boots and his jeans, slipping between the layers of the sleeping bag and settling against the pillow.
My name is Bucky. I live in Bucharest...
Tonight was not a good night. But maybe tomorrow would be better.
Thank you so so so much for taking the time on this lil chapter, and a very very special thank you to those who were kind enough to fave, follow, or leave a comment on the last one! I love hearing what you guys think about this story. Please let me know how this chapter went! Hope y'all have a great day!
-XM