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5
After you had made the mistake of outing to Captain Rogers about your plans to avenge your parents, he had wandered off somewhere, leaving you behind and alone with your thoughts.
You weren't too sure if he was upset with you or if he sided with you.
It was really difficult to tell.
For all you knew, he could be preparing an arrest for you.
The longer you stayed in this clean tent, the more you started to suspect if this was some kind of new avengers compound. It was obvious this wasn't a normal place looking for refugees, because there would be a lot more people.
But again, you knew so little. The only thing you were certain of is that you would milk your stay there as long as you could before continuing your trip back south. Not even the earth's mightiest heroes would stop you. You would stay until your wounds healed and until you had enough strength.
You wished they hadn't taken your pack away from you, but they had told you that it wasn't of need.
That anything you needed they could provide you with.
You wanted your compass, the one Will had given you, and you wanted your damn spear.
It had only been a few hours since you arrived and you were already bored out of your mind.
As much as you wanted to wander around the camp and discover more of this mysterious place, you weren't too sure if you were allowed that liberty. They hadn't told you much of what you could and couldn't do.
So you laid on your cot, playing with your bottle of antibiotics.
How had the Avengers manage to lose everything yet still keep certain things safe? You examined the opaque black bottle, noting that there was no writing on it anywhere. For all you knew, it could be some other kind of drug.
But they wouldn't lie. They had nothing to gain from your death. Plus, you knew they weren't infiltrated by Hydra like S.H.I.E.L.D once was. Hydra now only resided in The Capitol.
You're twisting the bottle up and down and side to side when a motion from your peripheral makes you look up. Someone had entered the tent again.
Your eyes narrowed at the figure and your stomach lurched.
The man wore a black T-shirt, a leather jacket, jeans, and boots. If it weren't for the silver sliver of metal as he rummaged through the medkit, you wouldn't have known who this man was.
You always thought Bucky Barnes had longer hair.
This man didn't look like the hot brainwashed assassin you had always seen on the news or in pictures. He looked younger, normal, dare you say; hot.
You felt a tight burning in your lower stomach as your eyes trailed down the bridge of his nose and along his perfect jawline; it was covered in a light layer of dark stubble.
You don't know why you suddenly feel so attracted to him. You always harbored a small crush for The Avenger, almost every girl did, but it was always Steve that everyone wanted to kiss.
But now, after seeing both in person, you couldn't fool your heart to not feel the way you were.
Bucky Barnes was exactly your type.
You felt your cheeks heat up and you forced yourself to look away from him. You tried your best to maintain your eyes on the bottle between your fingertips until the rummaging through the kit stopped.
When it did, you lift your eyes back up, thinking he had finally left so you could let the smile break out through your face.
Instead, you were met with piercing blue eyes.
Your eyes met for a long second. His face was blank and yours was surprised, but you knew you looked absolutely flushed. You felt it all over your body.
Thankfully, he quickly looked away again, and he seemed to have finally found what he was looking for.
He took it in his hand and turned the other way, walking out of the med tent.
Steve had stopped by later that night and handed you a pair of crutches and he asked you to follow him. Who were you to say no to Cap?
You followed him close behind as you walked through dead foliage and passed some of the fire pits. It was obvious most of the agents (you weren't even sure if that's what they were) had gone to bed, so the sound of cicadas and crackling fire echoed in the cool air.
You both must've passed about seven larger tents until you ended up in front of a large black one.
Steve opened the entrance for you, pulling it to the side so you could go in before him. You looked at him hesitantly before managing your way inside. You were careful to not trip as you entered the heated area.
You heard a commotion, a husky and deep voice.
"I don't want to be tied to a fucking child, it's a joke. I spent two years, two —" the voice stopped as the source of it looked up from Fury and to you.
Bucky Barnes.
You felt the tent swing close behind you with a soft breeze and he snarled, his eyes meeting Steve's above your shoulder.
"Bucky," Steve greets his best friend.
You felt the tension heavy in the air as you looked away from that heavy blue gaze.
Jesus.
You heard rummaging of papers and then the heavy waft of air that smelled way too good. You looked back up only to see that Barnes was now gone.
Your eyes met Fury's and it was then you noticed the others in the room, too.
If only Will could see you now. You felt the heavy tears deep in your throat as you remembered him.
If only he had survived just a few more hours, he would've been right there with you.
It almost seemed like some weird dream, but it wasn't.
You were, in fact, in a room with Steve Rogers, Nick Fury, Sam Wilson, Wanda, and Bruce Banner. You were mildly disappointed, wondering where the others were. You felt slightly selfish for it and then you felt that pang as you remembered Black Widow's and Tony Stark's sacrificial death for humanity.
This tent was definitely a lot fancier than the others you had seen. From the outside, it would be hard to tell, but this one even had a large table and some tech you hadn't seen in years, or even at all.
Now, you knew your gut was right, this really was the new Avengers Compound. How have more people not walked upon it?
"Miss, Y/L/N," Banner says, motioning towards the large table, "Please take a seat."
You maneuver your way to a random seat near the end of the table and lay your crutches on the side of it. Everyone else takes their appropriate seats, except for Fury who continues to stand, his hands in the pockets of his long coat.
You weren't intimidated. No.
"So you want to go into The Capitol," Fury says, pacing around the room.
You cross your hands on the table in front of you.
"What happened to your hand?" Sam asks, eyeing your bandage.
You clear your throat, feeling interrogated.
"I cut it while spearing for some fish." Your eyes dart back to Fury and you wonder how much you should tell him. You had a plan, you didn't want it to be ruined. This was your fight to win, "Yes, I do." You tell him quietly.
"You're quite ambitious to think you can take on a hundred thousand Hydra operatives on your own. You do realize that wall is guarded by eight hundred tanks, six fire missiles, two nukes, and five thousand men?" Fury says it like it's the most factual thing in the world. You swallow thickly, not actually knowing that. He leans on his arms in front of you, "And what were you planning to do when, or should I say if, you got inside? How far did you have this planned?"
You wouldn't let him scare you. You were bigger than this interrogation.
"Please, mister Fury," it sounded weird, but you didn't want to be rude, "I respect you, but I don't want to be taunted for my lack of cowardice." You slip in, flustered.
His one eye trembles.
"Tell me."
You take a deep breath.
"My family wanted The Capitol to be a place where people could depend on for survival. Hydra knew about it for years and they had it planned for years to take over. They made sure of that when they had my parents killed, right in front of me. I know the man that did it, and for years, all I've wanted to do is take back what my parents wanted, however, that is, and by doing whatever it takes."
He looks at you, bored.
"So you never had a solid plan?"
Your shoulder slump over, embarrassed.
"No."
A heavy laugh leaves his mouth and the other avengers also look simultaneously unamused, and slightly bored.
Steve, on the other hand, looks a bit more upset and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint.
"She knows what he looks like," Steve says, strong and determined.
"That's not enough, Steve." Sam mumbles, pushing his chair away from the table, "She's just a normal girl, she doesn't have anything to offer us that could possibly hold a guarantee that she could take on an entire city dictated on Hydra. There is nothing concrete about this," you try not to take any offense to Sam's tone as it angers you, "She didn't even have a plan. Her motives are reckless."
This ticks you off.
"My motives are reckless? My parents were killed in front of me. That is my motive." You snap, "I'm not some child, I know what I want to do. I want to kill him."
Wilson gives you a hard look.
"I'm sorry to break it to you, but that's called revenge. We don't do that here. We can't just run in there and start shooting people up." Sam explains.
"I'm not trying to shoot people up, Mr. Falcon," again, it feels weird, "I want him killed. Especially if that means the rest of that place falls down with him. You think I was just going to —" you curse yourself for giving away most of your plan, but damn it, "You think I was just going to barge in there, find him, and kill him? Of course not. I would take the information I needed first."
"And by doing what exactly? And for what?" Fury asks. He turns to Steve, "She has the drive, the determination, and she knows what he looks like, but she's just a normal young girl. She'll die in seconds of stepping foot in the place if she were to run into a bad face. She has no skill, she doesn't know what she's doing, she's not an agent, she's not superhuman."
"Maybe that's exactly what we need to win this," Steve says as he stands up from next to you. You hear the heavy gravel under his chair as it scoots back/ His finger is down on the table as he continues, "she could be the mole, she could get the insight we need, she'd fit in perfectly because she's not enhanced. I think you are looking at her lack of abilities as a disadvantaged when it could be the exact opposite. We have all the other extra accessories, everything else Bucky and I have been working on for the last few years, and the materials Tony left behind. We have the plan, she would just be the chess piece. We can train her just enough to where if she needs to use certain tactics, she will be prepared. It's obvious she isn't afraid."
"Bucky's plan —" Wanda starts, retaliating.
"—is a good plan," Steve cuts her off, "I know he worked hard on it. But this, this is better. And she knows who he is. This is an advantage that we need." Steve's eyes go back to you as they soften, "we can train you. Bucky can train you," his eyes go back to his teammates, "It'll be them both. It'll be a dual mission."
Your heart falters at the mention of Bucky's name again.
Everyone considers it, mumbling pros and cons among each other until finally, it's settled.
They were going to discuss it farther and then Bucky would join to see if it's a go.
For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn't go down smoothly. Steve's expression only confirmed that.
They let you have your backpack back, which meant you could have your spear again. Its been two days since your talk with the team and you were starting to feel a bit excited.
It was like your fear of losing your fight for your parents was diminishing.
You had gotten close with Steve, which is something your old self never would've believed. He always seemed to seek you when you were alone or looked bored. It was his idea of building trust and communication with you. He was the one that handed you your backpack as you sat near the fire chewing on a piece of bread.
He sat next to you as he watched you sharpen your little weapon, amused.
You told him about Will that night and his face fell. You both started sharing stories.
He then started to tell you about how everyone here has lost someone that means a lot to them. You don't know how it ended up in the general direction of relationships, but he let it slip that Bucky missed someone from his past, a woman.
This surprised you as your movements on your spear faltered.
He didn't tell you much, just that her name was Daisy and she died when he had been drafted to England. Bucky was only twenty-three.
She was killed by Hydra. You asked him why he was telling you this and he smiled softly and told you that you should know that Bucky is also human.
You didn't really get what that meant, but you nodded anyway.
"Look, Bucky's tough. He's got some issues when it comes to trust. He's also got some inner demons. Very dark ones. He thinks he deserves less than this. He can be a bit brutal at times, but it's his defense mechanism. I'm just saying this so you're not afraid, but he's a good man."
"Okay." Is all you can say to that.
You haven't really met Bucky one and one yet, only sharing glances that made you feel things similar to what you felt in your teens.
A crush. You knew you were crushing hard the second you saw him. There was just something about him. The mention of Daisy made you a bit jealous, even if she was gone.
You also felt really bad for Bucky. It couldn't be easy.
"I want you to do me a favor," you look at Steve, intrigued, "when you both go over there, I want you to keep an eye on him for me. I want you to try your best to ease him into loving himself again,"
"I'm not a therapist, Mr. Rogers."
"But you're normal. He needs normalcy. Take it easy on him, be a friend. He's been thinking about nothing but this mission for the last few years. When he's there, I want him to think about the present. I need your help with that, too. Please."
You give him a sympathetic look, his eyes are pleading and you feel for him.
"I'll help you."
Whatever that meant. Couldn't be that hard, right?
Part of you wanted to help them, but part of you also wanted to still follow your own plan and tackle this whole thing on your own.
That next morning the sun shined a little brighter over the camp. You had been left a note on the table next to your cot to meet the team in the same tent from the other day.
Days of the week didn't exist anymore either.
There was no Monday, no Thursday, no Saturday. It was simply "day".
You brushed your teeth (yep, they had it all) and before you knew it you were on your crutches, waddling your way over to the large tent.
There was loud talking before you even stepped foot inside, and you already knew this was going to be fun.
You took a deep breath and went inside.
Unlike last time, everyone was already sitting down. Their eyes shot up to you and their talking stopped abruptly.
Steve looked ecstatic to see you.
Bucky was sitting to his left, completely and totally unamused. Pissed, even.
"Sit here," Wanda said with a small smile, motioning to the chair next to hers, directly in front of Bucky.
You gulped as his eyes trailed from you and to the chair.
You took your seat in front of him and tried to avoid contact, your cheeks already feeling hot just by his presence.
You smiled at everyone as a greeting and lastly, you decided to give Bucky one, too.
But he was turned away, his eyes looking down at the pen in his flesh hand.
Your smile fell, but you shook it off.
Steve said your name and began to speak, "We already briefed Bucky on the plan so we don't need to repeat anything that was already said with you the other day." He looked over at Bucky with a darting eye, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there, "and he promised he would cooperate with the changes made to the mission," you watched intently as Bucky aimed the point of his pen down on the table, "and agreed that we will go through with it." The ballpoint of the pen snapped in half from the force of his hand and you flinched for a bit.
Steve's face became stern as he watched his best friend.
"So we wanted to go over what exactly the plan is and then from there, we'll start your training. You'll train for two weeks, under my supervision and Buckys'. We'll provide you your equipment and everything you will both need, then you will start your travel down south. That should be about three days. The mission itself when you get into The Capitol will take about six months."
Jesus.
"Are you sure, we can't stick to the original plan?" Bucky snapped, "Not that I'm not fucking ecstatic about spending half a year with a kid, who could possibly screw everything up."
"Bucky —" Bruce's tone was a warning.
"and what the hell is that on her neck?" He spat like venom.
Suddenly very self-aware, you brought your hand shakily up to the back of your neck, "It's — a tattoo." You stuttered out.
Bucky scoffed.
As your eyes met his, it was like the crush you felt towards him quickly changed.
You still felt undeniably attracted to him, but now you felt hurt at the fact that he obviously looked at you like you were scum under his feet. What did you even do to him?
You felt your real side begging to jump out of your mouth, the one that could show him how strong you actually are. You wanted to snap at him.
But some reason it was so hard, especially when he looked at you like that.
Like you were dirt. It hurt your feelings.
His eyes turned away from you and he looked up at Fury.
"Think about this." He says to Nick.
"Take it up with Rogers, Barnes. This is how we're doing this."
Bucky practically seethed through his teeth.
"If she dies, that's on you," Bucky spats, his voice strong, "If this mission is jeopardized, that's on you. All of you."
You try to keep your tears and dignity at bay, but it's almost physically impossible when you start replaying the second you saw him for the first time and when your eyes met across the med tent in your head.
There was something there.
You couldn't shake it, you weren't crazy.
Among the rushing doubts and questions and different emotions swirling in your brain, two things were for certain:
One, you and Bucky would go undercover together for six months inside The Capitol. Alone.
And two, he couldn't stand you.
Year: 1938
New York, NY
To an outsider, the way he went about it at times appeared shallow and womanizing. Although, to the contrary, he didn't want them for a night of lovemaking and then later throw them away like scrap.
It was rare that he would ever consider a girl interesting enough to actually bring home. (Rare to a man-whore, that is.)
It was seeing the joy on their face while they had a great time that brought him a feeling of satisfaction. He loved to show them a wonderful time.
Bucky loved sex, and he'd root to have it as much as he could, it was one of his favorite things. But he respected it. To him, and most men, ladies were too precious and innocent to know anything of the war. They were a lady and had to be treated as such.
He genuinely enjoyed that mental break when he was around them, not having to speak of the war or anything they couldn't handle.
He just wished Steve was similar and not always thinking about them damn nazis.
He loved seeing Steve relish in patriotism for his country and he definitely loved and respected how courageous he was, but if not being careful and without being realistic, he was bound to get himself killed. He wished that just for a second, Steve would lay back and have some fun like a normal young man.
He didn't understand why Steve didn't know that you don't always have to fight back.
"James." He answers low, in a husky voice.
It takes a moment for her to register that that is his name.
"James." She whispers back like it's a prayer.
She's silent as she stares at his face as if she was allowing this moment, this feeling, and his name all to sink in at once at its own pace. She could feel herself trembling underneath his gaze and she wanted it to never stop.
He wasn't batting an eyelash, but just staring into her blue orbs. It was as if the tremor that left her somehow entered his own heart because he pulled her in closer with a small gasp. She hadn't realized their hands were still tightly intertwined, and she swears she feels him squeeze when she pulls away.
Don't.
She wasn't pulling away to get away but just leaning back on her heels to take a deep breath. She blinked wildly, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his lips and back again.
His eyes were pleading. This couldn't be over. She pulls her face away just far enough to where she can finally take in a deep breath.
Bucky is about to pull her in close once more since their hands are still attached, but her hand is sharply removed out of his, leaving them both cold and empty. It was a harsh slap and what was once the sound of just their breathing and heartbeats, was now a yelling and the loud commotion of the club on an average night.
She literally feels like she was ripped out of his arms. Bucky's eyes quickly dart up to the intruder and he's about to say something when Daisy quickly backs away from her brother, her gloved hand going straight to his chest and pushing him away.
She takes a moment, but her gaze finally adjusts.
Her brother takes her hand and holds it against him, "Robert's a sleazing liar, Daisy. If dad finds out about this, we're both dead. Les' just get out of here before they get onto us." Daisy's silent, her mouth still agape. Emotions from moments ago are still washing through her system and she barely has anything else left to react to her brother's statement.
She could honestly care less bout what was supposed to go down tonight anymore.
She looks over at Bucky. Her brother follows her eye flicker and looks back at Bucky and then back to her. He lets out an exasperated chuckle and points at Bucky with his thumb, "Who's this? Another one of them twits, Daisy? Imma lay a hand on him. You know these guys want nothin' but one thing. Let's go. Now." Her brother pulls her behind him.
Once he's about to pass Bucky, he shoots him a dirty look.
"Suggest you get out of here, pal," he says.
Daisy looks like she's about to cry as she pulls up the side of her dress to not trip behind her brother.
He's rough as he pulls her behind him towards the exit.
"Jimmy, you gotta wait. You're gonna' make me fall!" Jimmy rudely lets go of her and watches as she takes a deep breath and dusts off her dress.
Bucky is still voiceless, trying to process his heart's emotions and what the hell was going on.
Suddenly, Daisy runs back to a table by the lounge where she was sitting at previously and grabs a random straight pen that she remembered had been carelessly left behind by someone else. She silently thanks heaven for it. Both Bucky and Jimmy look at her speechless as she grabs Bucky's limp hand in hers and starts writing quickly.
Bucky winces at the object's sharp edge against his soft skin.
"Hell. Come on, Daisy." Jimmy rolls his eyes.
She closes Bucky's hand and gives him one last emotional look that said too much yet not enough before she runs out with her brother.
Bucky looks down at his closed hand, heavy emotions still crashing through his body.
Slowly he opens it up revealing 5 small yet powerful words that he knew would change everything. He smiles softly to himself.
Brooklyn. 8.
His feet took him to a place he'd been to every day since he's lived in Brooklyn. Although this time, this day, it was insanely different.
He couldn't imagine that he had been awake right now. Everything felt too surreal. He couldn't believe that he had the balls of steel to actually walk up to her.
Thank god he did because whatever was felt between him, he knew it was what he was looking for his entire life.
Daisy.
The sides of his lips twitched as he let out a long sigh. He walked back and forth between the same building in dumbo and ran a hand through his soft hair, pulling slightly at the ends. He was trying his best to calm down even though he knew he had a good hour until it was eight. He wasn't sure he could wait.
He didn't know what to say when he would see her again. This was probably a stupid question, but did she like him? What was the commotion back at the club with her brother? What was she planning on doing with him when she met up with him?
There were so many questions going through his head and not nearly enough answers. He didn't know if he was scared or anxious, all he knew was he wanted it to be 8 o'clock already. He was thankful that the rain had stopped a while ago; the pavement was now mostly dry but some mist was still dangling through the air by it being pulled up from the puddles by the wind. He found the driest corner of a building that he could find, and he sat there. He rested his arm on his knee and looked around.
Deep in the Hudson below was soon to be the bridge, what Daisy had been referencing to. He looked at the pieces of sharp metal rising from the deep river, up into the air. It was massive and terrifying.
When the wind would blow through the iron-steel it would make a haunting howling sound that sent shivers up his arms. He didn't get it. It was only recently that people had expanded the city upwards.
There weren't that many tall buildings in New York until a few months ago. It was only seven years ago that they finally finished the Empire State Building, and even that was some getting used to. He thinks they even made some movie about it.
He looked at the skyline from across the river, that beautiful building standing tall, lighting up the sky. A sense of sadness overwhelms him suddenly as he remembers the events of the day.
It's not common that he gives himself moments to allow himself to reminisce and feel. He reaches into the chest pocket of his dress shirt and pulls out a small locket with a chain. He clicks it open, revealing a small beat-up black-and-white photo of his family. His little sister Rebecca stood in the front by his side.
He admired her cute short brown hair and her brown eyes. She was always a sweet little girl, anything would make her laugh, and her laugh was always genuine and contagious. Bucky frowns. She was so heartbroken when her mom passed away. Seeing Rebecca sad was not something he liked to think about, ever.
Bucky frowned as he passed his thumb over her picture. He hasn't seen her since they got separated back at Camp Lehigh before returning to Brooklyn one last time. He wondered how she was doing. He wondered if she knew about dad.
He feels a tight pang in his chest and sighs.
Two out of the three people he loved the most were all dead.
He looked back at the skyline before shoving the locket back in his pocket, refusing to look at his mother and father.
He took in the cool air and let the wind momentarily flick his hairs onto his forehead. He closed his eyes tightly together and took a deep breath.
Shit, for all I knew I could be next.
He hoped things would change now that he met Daisy.
Maybe he wouldn't have just one person left that he could love.
Maybe God was giving him another chance.
Present
Bucky watches you from across the field as you sharpen that damn spear, again.
He hopes you don't plan on taking that thing with you on the mission.
That thought only angered him even more. How could they do this to him? He had everything planned, he had put together a great team that would take on this mission. But, no, instead he has been betrayed again.
Not just that, but he was being told he would have to only one partner and that that would be you.
He won't lie, the second he saw you for the first time, he knew immediately who you were.
You were pretty and you held a certain aura that he couldn't pinpoint. It was obvious that you were what the people referenced to these days - a fucking millennial.
Your haircut, your attire, the way you carried yourself, and the fact that you had killed a man straight through the chest as if it was nothing.
He remembers when he was your age, eighty-some years ago.
Things were different.
There was no technology back then like there was now, and people held more respect.
Sure, things were post blip and post-apocalyptic now, so there was the benefit of the doubt, but he still knew how people your age were.
Your generation.
You took everything for granted; your liberty, your food, your family. You didn't know what suffering was or what real war looked like. You didn't know what hell was.
And most importantly, you were a lady.
You were supposed to be The Protected, not The Protectee.
What was wrong with you? You would die.
Women were supposed to know nothing of war or murder. You weren't supposed to want to kill. That was something else he never understood about your generation, that and your impulse for crude language.
He tried not to blame his horrible view on things on Daisy. He tries not to blame her for never wanting to find anyone else ever again. He tries not to blame himself for 'killing' a girl that was so pure.
He watches you as you sharpen your spear with a small smile on your face.
His jaw tightens and his teeth clench.
He was dreading this mission.
