Chapter 24

Sam and Bucky made their way out of SHIELD HQ, and their way back to the apartment.

Both were in deep thought over the proceedings of the last few days. They had so much to think about, to consider. Everything had changed literally overnight.

Bucky thought to himself how this was the start of a long and winding road that would lead both him and Sam through a multitude of trials. He hoped that when they came out the other end that they would be victorious. For now, his faith was resting in Nick Fury and that little USB drive.

Bucky was brought out of his daze and profound contemplation of the current situation by Sam who said something that Bucky did not catch the first time around. He had to ask Sam to repeat himself.

"Today is Friday, right?"

Bucky looked at his watch to confirm or deny. He saw that it was indeed Friday afternoon. Then it struck him like a firm hand upside the head.

"Ella's show is tonight." Bucky said still slightly dazed.

Sam nodded.

"That's what I thought. I'm really surprised I remembered and you didn't, Casanova. I thought you'd be all over it the second we got back. What time is it supposed to start anyway?"

"The second we got back we were confronted by the director himself. I think it starts at 7. I'm pretty sure it starts at 7."

"That is very, very true. I only remembered because of the whole caking thing."

Sam had to try extremely hard to keep from laughing at Bucky again for that particular incident.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You two got one over on me. Fine. Have your laugh."

"I want to meet her. Are you still down to go? We haven't slept since Tuesday and we both know you barely slept that night either."

"I've done more on less. I still want to go. The real question is are you up for it?"

Sam thought for a moment before answering.

"How about we head back, catch a few hours of sleep, and arrive fashionably late?"

"How late are you talking?"

"How does 9 PM sound?"

Bucky measured Sam's proposal and accepted. He needed an hour or two of sleep after the events of the last few days anyway. He was feeling more worn out than usual, even more so than after a week-long mission. Bucky couldn't put his finger on why. The last thing he wanted was to show up at Ella's big event a zombie due to stress and lack of sleep.

Once they got back to the apartment, Sam and Bucky headed to their respective rooms for the rest of the afternoon.

Bucky was awoken by the alarm that he had set on his phone. He sat up dazed and confused. For once he had a dreamless sleep. Though he didn't feel like he had slept much at all. If any. In fact, he thought he was even more tired than before.

He was quick to shower and get ready until he came upon a problem he had not been anticipating. He had no idea what to wear.

Bucky went to Sam's room and knocked on the door. Thankfully Sam was awake and answered with a questioning look on his face.

"What's up, Buck?"

"I'm not entirely sure what to wear."

Sam started laughing as he leaned against the door frame.

"Hey! I'm just a poor kid from Brooklyn, remember? I've never been to anything like this in my life. Do you really think the Winter Soldier ever did? And if he did do you think he would have dressed appropriately?"

Bucky's comment caught Sam off-guard. Bucky never talked about the Winter Soldier and he never made light references such as the one he had just made. Almost like there was humor in what he was saying.

Sam was not aware that Bucky had been free of the Winter Soldier for some time now. Months even. That something else had taken that place in the space in Bucky's head. This being the case, Bucky was having an easier and easier time thinking, and talking, about the Winter Soldier as a secondary being to himself.

Despite the fact that Bucky's hands and actions had been the ones to carry out each and every command made of this secondary being. This he was very much still struggling with. But over the last, however long it had been, there had been a point of separation. Bucky and the Winter Soldier were two separate things now.

Sam looked at Bucky seriously.

"I'd go with corporate casual. Semi-formal at most. You want to look like you're going on a high-class date, but not like you're the best man at a wedding. Ella will most likely be in more formal attire. It is her show after all."

Bucky thanked Sam and headed back to his room to consider his options.

He went back and forth for a while, then settled on black slacks, a black button-down shirt with a nicely pressed collar, his usual black leather gloves, and the only pair of somewhat formal shoes he owned.

He still couldn't exactly remember how he had gotten the shoes. Either way, he remembered that they hurt his feet and he didn't like them.

When he looked in the mirror, he thought he looked a little more formal than what Sam had suggested. He also secretly didn't mind as he wanted to match with whatever Ella was going to be wearing. And black went with everything.

It was quarter after eight and Bucky was slowly pacing the living room looking out of their panoramic windows. Sam finally came out of his room wearing khaki-colored slacks, a white button-down shirt, with brown shoes.

"Looking sharp there, Buck. Are you ready to head out? I assume parking is going to be a bitch so I think we should leave now."

Bucky just nodded, unable to form a complete sentence.

On the elevator ride down to the parking garage, Sam spoke up.

"Are you nervous?"

Bucky had no idea why he was honest. What else was he going to say other than nothing at all?

"Yes. I'm not sure what to expect. I'm going in blind and that never makes me feel comfortable."

Sam rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Then the doors of the elevator opened. They walked in the direction of Sam's car. They weren't about to take one of Bucky's motorcycles.

"Of all things to get nervous about. We deal with the worst of the worst on our best days at the office. Don't be nervous. I'm sure she will be more than happy to see you. Besides, I got your back. What more do you need?"

Sam gave him an exaggerated wink as he slipped into the driver's seat on the sedan. Bucky looked up and sighed before he got into the passenger side. Why did he always get himself into situations like this? And why couldn't he stop?

Bucky gave Sam the directions to the gallery. When they arrived, they found a place to park a few streets over.

As they walked from their parking spot to the gallery, Bucky's nervousness skyrocketed. He did his best to breathe as Dr. Fitzpatrick had shown him. And do it discreetly as to not attract unwanted attention from Sam. He kept his hands balled into tight fists in his pockets.

When they arrived at the gallery entrance, they found it to be filled with a diverse range of people.

Sam and Bucky were stopped at the door and asked for their IDs. Apparently, this was an 18 and up show and that rule was being strictly enforced. A rule that was enforced by a tall blonde guy that was as wide as Buck and Sam was put together. The guy could probably pick them both up at the same time. Bucky guessed he was ex-Army, maybe a Marine. He certainly looked the part.

Sam reached into his pocket and produced his ID for the man to check. Bucky on the other hand started panicking. He didn't have an ID that would pass. He told the truth. A truth he wasn't ready for Ella to know about yet. And he was sure this guy would notice the birth year of 1917. Why hadn't he had SHIELD make him a fake one? The only other photo ID he had was his SHIELD ID and he highly doubted that that would work in this instance. He tried anyway.

Bucky gave the bouncer his SHIELD ID card. The bouncer laughed, gave it back, and told him to beat it. Either produce a state-issued ID or no entrance. The bouncer crossed his arms, almost daring Bucky to try something. Bucky went to argue the fact that being a federal agent was better than some state-issued ID. But then he heard a familiar voice.

"David! Stop being a fucking twat and let them in. They are friends."

The commanding and stern voice came from across the crowd. Bucky followed it and found Ella. Staring down the bouncer with an authority he had yet to see in her. All Bucky was able to see of her through the small crowd of people that were gathered in the middle of the room was her face. And her eyes were glaring at the bouncer.

Ella, who had never worn makeup in front of Bucky before, looked jaw-dropping. Her ox-blood red lips paired perfectly with the incredibly sharp angle of her winged eyeliner. Everything else was muted, more natural. Her hair was down and straightened. She was absolutely radiant.

Just like that, Bucky's nerves and anxiety were gone as both he and Sam checked their coats at the small station just inside the door.

He watched as Ella finished the conversation that she was having with a man who seemed more than eager to keep her attention. He seemed to be trying to convince her of something and she was playfully denying him.

"Once you make it worth my while then I will conder it, Max." was all Bucky caught.

She kissed the man on both cheeks, turned around, and headed towards Sam and Bucky. Weaving effortlessly through the small crowd of people as she went. Her pin-straight hair billowing out behind her.

When Ella was about halfway across the room Bucky got a look at her outfit. She was wearing an elegant black off-the-shoulder floor-length wrap dress. It fit her figure perfectly. It hugged everything in all the right places. It had two thigh-high slits on either side that her stocking-clad legs poked through with every step as she approached them.

By the time Bucky's eyes had taken in her hair, makeup, and dress, they made their way down to her shoes. Which evidently had grabbed Sam's attention.

"Damn, man! I had no idea she was Goth-thicc! She is fine as fuck. I've never seen her outside of what she always wears to the park. Good choice, man. And those shoes! Jesus Christ, someone says one thing wrong about her work and she could kill them with those things!"

Bucky just glared at him, hoping Ella hadn't heard. And if she had, he hoped that she would take those heels to Sam and see how much he liked them then. Then she was standing in front of them.

With the added height of her heels, Ella was now more than eye to eye with both Sam and Bucky. She was actually a bit taller than either of them. Bucky took one look at her expression and knew something was seriously wrong.

Ella was smiling a welcoming and pleasant smile. At first glance, she looked like she was positively beaming. When Bucky looked closer, looked into her eyes, he saw something there that disturbed him profoundly.

She was petrified.

"What are you two doing here? I thought you were on a business trip."

Bucky wanted to tread lightly when he answered. Not sure what to do or expect. He could tell that Sam couldn't see the same thing in Ella's eyes that he could. Sam quickly took over the conversation and Bucky hoped he wouldn't end up saying something either of them would regret.

"We got back early this morning. The trip didn't really pan out the way we had wanted. Unfortunately. I'm Sam, by the way."

Sam extended his hand for her to shake. Bucky watched with interest. Ella's eyes changed from terrified to cunning and calculating. He could still see the underlying fear that was momentarily masked with a spark of humor. More like what he was used to, but she was still overly pale.

Ella reached out and grabbed Sam's hand and shook it firmly, a smirk gradually appearing on her red lips. Bucky noticed Sam wincing from the strength of her grip.

"I know exactly who you are. Bucky has already told me all about you. He also told me my first impression of you was wrong and that I should give you another chance. Do you think you deserve it?"

"This is about that morning in the park and your papers flying everywhere, isn't it?"

Ella just raised an eyebrow at Sam. Bucky could feel him recoiling from the intensity of her gaze. At least now he was getting a taste of it. Bucky was enjoying getting to watch it.

"I'm sorry I kept going and left you two to clean everything up. I believe I had a good reason. I thought it would be the only opportunity that this fool would ever have to talk to you. I just had to give him the chance. I think it all worked out. Even if I did end up looking like a royal ass."

Sam concluded looking between Ella and Bucky.

Ella just kept staring at Sam with her penetrating, and frankly unsettling, stare for a few more beats. Bucky could sense Sam tensing up even more under her eye. She studied Sam carefully before she spoke again. Bucky reveled in every second of Sam's discomfort.

"I think you're right. You are forgiven."

Ella's eyes lightened considerably.

"Did you get as much of a kick out the whole caking thing as I did?"

Sam leaned forward and guffawed as Bucky threw his head back and sighed loudly. Not this again.

"Thanks for that. I hadn't laughed that hard in years. Hell, I'm still laughing. Killer shoes, by the way. I mean that in a literal and metaphorical sense."

"Oh, these old things?"

Ella reached out and used Bucky's shoulder to steady herself as she bent her knee, bringing one of her boots up for a closer look over her shoulder.

For a split second, all Bucky could think was panic. Ella was using his left shoulder as support. There was no way she couldn't feel the metal beneath the fabric of his shirt. She turned to him and gave him a sweet smile that made him forget everything.

Ella knew. Somehow, she just knew. She knew that Bucky was nervous at the contact and that what she was doing was causing it. And she was silently telling him it was ok. That everything was alright. He immediately calmed down and that voice in the back of his head telling him to run ceased.

In the extremely short period of time that this occurred, Sam got his look at her heels that he had been talking about as she walked over. Now it was Bucky's turn to admire them as Ella explained their origin.

They were lace-up black leather boots that went halfway up her calf. The discerning feature that set them apart was the heel itself. It had been replaced with a chef's knife that was about eight inches long. The gleaming blade of the knife facing out. The tip and edge flashing dangerously in the light from above their heads.

"I actually modified these myself. They are supposed to be heelless, but as you can see, I added my own. I broke the handle, filed down the hilt, and built it into the back of the heel up to my ankle for support. I sharpened them, too. I can split hairs with these babies."

"How do you keep from getting stuck in the wood floor?"

Bucky asked, dumbfounded, as he watched her put her foot back on the ground and level her gaze back at him.

"Like this."

Ella turned to the side and moved her dress aside for Sam and Bucky to see. The knives were about a quarter of an inch off the ground. Unless she leaned her weight back onto the blades, they wouldn't be getting stuck unless she wanted them to.

Bucky couldn't help but let his eyes wander up Ella's legs instead of keeping them on the literal killer heels. Black stockings with the hint of a garter belt at the top of the slit. There was something just above the top of the slit in her dress on her right side that he couldn't quite see. Bucky suddenly lost his train of thought.

Ella's expression changed rapidly again as she let go of her grip on her dress and faced them once again.

"You really shouldn't be here. Either of you. But especially you." Ella pointed at Bucky.

Bucky sputtered, trying to regain his composure. Trying to find a response to the entirely unexpected turn in the conversation.

"Why not? We're just here to show our support. I thought you'd like that. Don't you want us here?"

Ella looked at Bucky with a look that read contradiction. She did want him there, but at the same time, she didn't. The fear and panic that Bucky saw in her eyes a few minutes ago returned. More powerful than ever.

Even Sam saw it and kept his mouth shut thinking it would be better for Bucky to handle whatever was going on.

"Thank you for your support. I genuinely appreciate it, I really do. From both of you. But this is a lot more complicated than showing someone support."

"What do you mean?"

"Bucky, this show is an exhibition of a section of my work that is a metaphorical, and sometimes a literal, representation of my deepest, darkest fears. Every black spot on my soul and every fracture on my heart is represented by at least one series of images in there. This show is the culmination of every single horrific and terrible thing that has ever happened to me. Mentally or physically."

Bucky was speechless. He recalled parts of their conversation at the coffee shop but didn't think it was this… personal. He knew this was going to be disturbing in some ways, that it was controversial, but he didn't think it would be like this.

"Do you want us to leave?"

Bucky asked tentatively. If Ella wanted them to leave, they would turn around and walk out right now. The heartbroken look in Ella's eyes answered his question for him.

"Are you sure you are ready? And want to see all of that?"

Bucky kept eye contact with Ella for a moment before nodding his head. Agreeing that he does want to see this. He has wanted to see the dark side of her for a while now. He just guessed that his chance had come sooner rather than later.

Ella sighed, sounding slightly defeated and wholeheartedly sad.

"Well, you two better get real cool about a bunch of stuff really quickly."

She sighed again and gave Bucky the most serious look she had ever given him.

"No matter what you see, or what happens, please come see me… after. Don't just leave. Even if you never want to see me, let alone speak to me, ever again. Even if you have to send Sam to do it."

Bucky had entirely forgotten that Sam was still standing there, somewhat awkwardly during their conversation. Bucky looked at Sam and they both looked back at Ella and promised her that they would both find her afterward.

They turned to enter the next room adjacent to the entry. Ella called them back.

"Bucky, please remember what I said in the coffee shop about people's reactions."

Bucky turned around and looked into her panicked eyes. She was biting her lip with the most frightened expression he had ever seen on her face. He did not want to go into the gallery just to keep that look off of her beautiful face. It was not just fear. It was pain.

"I won't be one of them. No matter what."

What was in this gallery that was causing Ella this much anxiety? Could it really be that bad?