CHAPTER 13
Jenny held onto Max's arm as he helped her out of the car at the State building. It was probably the grandest property in the whole country. Stone pillars marked the entrance and big wide doors led into a glittering assemblage. She felt strange walking into the party with three dates. Juan, Russel and Max were crowded around her. Bucky was nowhere to be seen and hadn't come back to the hotel. She had Russel text him, but the former assassin had only sent back a cryptic message about still working. She guessed the debrief would have to wait until tomorrow.
"There's our booth" said Max. "You should go stand next to it so I can get a picture of you in that dress." He looked down at her outfit. She was in a black fitted satin number, cut low in the front between the valley of her breasts. A slit to her knee helped her walk a little easier. It was possibly a little too slinky for an event like this, but after Bucky had ruined her other dress when he pushed her into the car in Estonia, this was the only other option. Not that she didn't like this dress. She loved the way it looked on her. But this wasn't the occasion she would have worn it in. It was date nice.
"No. Absolutely not," she said. It reminded her of all the many photo ops she and her family had to take with her grandfather.
"Come on," he said. "You add interest. Besides, it's proof that we showed up tonight."
She didn't want to be paraded out like the family that Limka paid off earlier that day. Still, she sighed and stood in front of the Avengers items the GRC was auctioning off to help with funding for local housing. If it would go to that. She had a sneaking suspicion that it would end up in Limka's pocket.
Max snapped a few pictures, and Jenny waved him off.
"Let's go sit down," he said offering his arm again.
"One second," she said. "I just need to take a breath outside."
"I'll come with you," he said.
"No, just… alone. I'll be right back." This room was too stuffy, too crowded. Max was too close tonight. The presence of Juan and Russel seemed overwhelming, despite the fact that they were solid dudes. She couldn't breathe. This tour wasn't turning out to be what she expected.
She left all three men and walked past the other dignitaries out the door. And she kept walking. Past the gorgeous people all dressed up, past the cars and the lights. Down the street to the corner.
The air was warm and the sky was bright with stars illuminating the road. She took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her. She should head back, but the whole assemblage was a waste of time. She hated things like this. Just auction online and be done with it.
"Miss?" she heard next to her.
She looked to her right, and there was a little girl and her mother standing on the street. Their clothes had patches and tatters and they looked hungry. "Are you alright?" asked the woman.
Jenny realized she'd been crying. "Oh! Yes, I'm alright, thank you." The little girl said something in Symkarian. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't speak Symkarian," said Jenny.
"She asked if we could help you," said the woman.
Jenny stared down at the little girl. She wiped her eyes and gave her a little smile. "I'll be alright. Thank you."
"You look very pretty," said the girl.
Jenny bent down and offered her hand. "I'm Jenny," she said as the little girl took it.
"Elitsa," she said.
"It's lovely to meet you Elitsa," said Jenny. The little girl smiled showing off her two missing teeth in the front. Jenny stood, but Elitsa didn't let go of her fingers.
"Mary," said the woman, and Jenny shook her hand awkwardly with her free one.
"We saw you in the square yesterday," said the woman. "It was a good speech. Are you really here to help?"
Jenny mustered a smile as Elitsa swung her hand back and forth.
"Can you help with food?" asked the little girl.
"Shh, Elitsa!" said her mother taking her other hand.
"Oh, I can! I can help with that." Jenny opened her clutch and pulled out the only bill she had in Symkarian. About twenty five dollars American. "Here, please."
"We don't want handouts," said Mary.
Jenny swallowed, her arm dropping.
"I'm on my way to work," said the woman. "Just a few hours a night at the laundry mat, but it helps."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," said Jenny. Elitsa kept swinging her arm. "Are you in the camps?" she asked, not knowing quite what to ask.
"Yes. With my husband. He's been looking for work for two years now."
"I'm not in school anymore," said Elitsa.
Jenny's heart stopped. "The camp schools. The Global Repatriation Council helped set them up here."
"No one goes," said Mary. "But Limka takes care of us. He protects us from much worse."
"Like what?" she asked.
"Like the dangerous factions outside our country. The ones that threaten to take our children away. They push in closer every day."
Jenny pursed her lips. As far as she knew, it wasn't true. No one had made any threats to Symkaria. And besides their internal struggles, there were no dangerous factions. She decided then and there to watch the news to sniff out any propaganda. Elitsa smiled up at her, and Jenny felt a blaze of anger at the man who'd made a pass at her earlier. She pressed the bill into Mary's hand. "I'm going to help you. I'll find a way to fix this."
Mary smiled and gave her a little nod. A nod that said thank you and gratitude and hope all rolled into one. "Come," said Mary, taking Elitsa's hand from Jenny's. She led her away down the street.
Jenny tilted her head back with a sigh. "I'll fix it," she said.
"That was nice of you," said a deep voice behind her. She whirled around and there was Bucky. He was staring at her with what could only be described as admiration. The leather was gone, and he was in a tuxedo, hands in his pockets. His hair was parted and pushed back. He was Clark Gable, Cary Grant. He was Gregory Peck and every classic movie star she'd ever seen rolled into one. She felt all the air in her lungs escape. He gave her a long heated look up and down but landed on her face and didn't stray again. She knew she loved this dress.
"You're not incarcerated," she said lamely.
He smirked. "No."
"You- you look…"
He ran his hand through his hair. "Like a monkey in a suit, I know."
"That's not what I was going to say."
Bucky gave her a lopsided grin and took two slow strides toward her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.
She gulped at his closeness. "Fresh air."
He nodded. "You going back?"
She nodded too.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the Gala.
They walked side by side back to the building. The whole two blocks she felt him. His heat, his presence. He followed her inside, and the murmuring around them got quiet. Heads turned as they made their way to the table, and all eyes were on them. No, they were all on him. He looked uncomfortable at the gawking.
"What are they looking at?" he asked.
"Clark Gable," she said. She stole a sideways glance at him.
"What?"
"Never mind."
"How do you deal with staring?" he asked.
"No one stares at me."
When he didn't say anything, she turned back to him. His eyebrow was raised.
Her cheeks flushed. "I guess I disappear into the crowd."
"You could never disappear," he said.
She couldn't help herself. She was still furious with him from this afternoon, but a smile still made it's way onto her face. "I'm starved," she said.
He nodded.
They made their way to their table. Juan, Russel and Max were all seated, the former two looking uncomfortable, and the latter looking desperately around the ballroom. When Max saw her, he jumped from his chair and pulled out the one next to him.
"Jennifer, there you are," he said.
She moved to sit down, but Bucky caught her hand. He pulled her behind him, leaving a flummoxed Max to push her chair back in. Bucky brought her to the dance floor and maneuvered them into the middle of the waltzing couples.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Disappearing into the crowd." He pulled her into the warmth of his arms and started to box step, sweeping her along.
She was flabbergasted. He moved with the grace of Fred Astaire. Maybe from his time as an assassin. Silent, deadly. But he was gentle now, his flesh hand around her waist, guiding her back and forth, and his metal hand holding hers lightly. Slowly, she rested her left arm on his shoulder. He still smelled of leather, but something spicy and vintage too. His cologne was a deep classic musk that made her think of Humphrey Bogart for some reason. He kept a respectable distance between them, but it was still intimate.
She cleared her throat. "So, what happened with Limka?"
Bucky let out a chuckle through his nose. "It's handled."
Any bit of comradery between them evaporated. "Lord, what did you do?" she breathed. She shook her head at the ground. This man raised her blood pressure like no one else.
"He's not dead, but he's on his toes now." He twirled her under his arm, spun her out, and then brought her back closer. "Kind of like you."
"You're infuriating," she said when her breath returned.
"But a good dancer."
She ignored him. "You realize if this gets out…"
"It won't."
"Why should I trust you?" she asked. She moved his chin to look her square in the face.
He bit his lip again. She wished he would stop doing that.
"Because I'm your partner," he said, his voice like smooth rich whiskey.
"You barely warrant the word," she muttered.
He grinned mischievously and it was the most boyish she'd ever seen him. She pursed her lips to keep from smiling herself. Somehow he'd managed to break the tension. She didn't want him to see her reactions to him anymore. She moved so their cheeks were just touching like a whisper. "Anything else?" she asked close to his ear. She felt a shiver go down his spine.
"No," he finally said.
"Mr. Reserved."
"Your nickname for me?" he asked, his metal fingers flexing under her hand.
"I've wanted to call you a lot worse."
He smirked. "You already have. Asshole, killer…"
She had been awfully hard on him. She swallowed hard. "I'm… Sorry."
"Don't choke on the words," he chuckled. "Listen. I'll be more forthcoming if you relax around me." His tone suddenly became serious. "It makes me feel like I'm still the Winter Soldier."
She gripped his shoulder a little tighter and pinched her eyes closed.
He kept dancing them further and further away from their table. "I thought I'd left him behind. But there are still people who think he's alive in me and you're one of them. It makes me question myself all the time."
Jenny felt stings all over her and her heart turned over.
"I can't fully move on if people like you are always reminding me of my mistakes."
She didn't want that power. But there it was again. "I… I know what it's like to try to leave your past behind," she said. "Somehow it always comes back in one form or another."
She felt him nod against her cheek. "Mm," he grunted.
They danced on for a while, the silence big and broad between them. She couldn't think of anything to say. She closed her eyes instead, thinking about what he must have been like in 1942. Younger, probably didn't have the cares he did now that seemed to settle in that crease between his eyebrows.
"How does it come back for you?" he asked finally.
"My nightmares," she answered.
There was a hitch in their dancing. "What kind of nightmares?" he asked.
She didn't know why she pressed on. It was just nice to have someone ask. "I relive everything again. No matter how much I try to forget. It always comes back to remind me that I overwhelm people by just being myself. I force them to run."
"If they can't handle you, then they don't deserve you," he said firmly.
She rested the side of her head against his jaw. "So I cut everyone out of my life? That's not a solution. Besides, that's what they did to me. I'll just keep being what they want me to be. It's easier."
"It's not." he said. His hand moved flush against her back, and she exhaled, the pressure a surprising comfort. He removed his cheek from hers and locked her in that gaze of his. The one that made her weak in the knees and stop thinking coherent thoughts. The one that was stormy like the sea, but steady like the rain. She couldn't look away.
"Jenny…" He moved a strand of hair from her face.
The song ended. She stepped out of his arms quickly and clapped for the band with the rest of the dancers avoiding the scrutiny of the former assassin.
He sighed and led her back to the table without further touching.
All through dinner Bucky said nothing. Just filled her glass with water and stole sideways glances. Which she always seemed to be returning at the same time. Unlike Max who couldn't stop talking. Even through the bidding section of the evening. She hardly heard him though. She was thinking about how unnerved she was. Bucky's words were in her head. When was the last time she'd voiced anything truly personal since the snap? It wasn't until an hour ago when she was in Bucky's arms. There was something about him that coaxed her out of her shell. Usually it was yelling, but still, he could see her.
Max was still talking. She caught Bucky's eye again, and he looked away, smiling down at the table.
"I said are you ready to go Jennifer?" asked Max. Juan and Russel were already standing, looking eager for their beds.
"Yeah, sure." She stood and Max took her arm. All five walked to the waiting car, but Bucky took her pinkie finger in his. She turned.
"Let's take a walk," he whispered. "The hotel's not far. I walked here."
She didn't know why but she nodded her yes.
Juan, Russel and Max had climbed in the car, waiting for Jenny. "Good evening gentlemen," said Bucky. He closed the door on a confused and angry Max, gave the roof a double tap and they watched the car roll back to the hotel.
"So," said Jenny.
"So," said Bucky. They started walking. There didn't seem to be anything to say. Just his presence was enough to create a calm bubble over her. By the time they got to the hotel, the pressing on her lungs at the beginning of the evening was gone, and a new pressure in her chest had begun. All the way up the elevator, their sideways glances caused little darts of excitement to pulse down her arms. She'd never noticed how sharp his jaw really was.
At her door, she pulled her key out of her bag. "Thanks for the dance," she said.
He nodded and gave her that lopsided smile. He moved a stray hair from her face again. His fingers were warm as they brushed against her cheek, and her eyes fluttered closed. She felt him step away.
"Good night Jenny," he said.
"Good night Bucky." She slipped her key into the lock and with one last look backward, locking eyes for a moment with his, almost the clearest blue she'd ever seen them, and closed the door behind her.
She rested her head against the back of the wood, a smile creeping onto her face. She touched her neck, perspiration blooming at her temples. She heard the door close to the room next to hers. Tonight his lips had been close to hers, more words than normal coming from them. Frustrating her but also pulling her in. Closer.
A long distant but familiar ache thumped in her chest. The longing to want something again. The volcano of emotion that had been leaking out as anger and hatred was building up into something explosive. But maybe it was ok if it exploded.
For the first time in a long time, she felt excited.