WARNING: sexual violence/assault - inappropriate touching/nonconsensual groping
"I think I'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze
Every wall that I knock down is just a wall that I replace
I'm in a race against myself I try to keep a steady pace
How the fuck will I escape if I never close my case?"
East Village. NYC. April 2014
Rain pattered on the awning over the entrance to Luke's bar. Sawyer flipped up the collar of her new black trench coat as the wind blew the rain sideways. After finding a hotel, she and Bucky found their way to a department store and purchased new clothes.
"I will never take clean underwear for granted again."
Sawyer noticed Bucky checking his watch for the 10th time in the past five minutes.
"She'll be here," she assured.
"She's five minutes late," Bucky expressed.
"She'll be here," Sawyer asserted, "Don't worry." The wind picked up again and shivering, Sawyer scooted closer to Bucky. During her review of the Winter Soldier files last night, she discovered Zola's version of the Super Soldier Serum, much like Erskine's serum, made Bucky's metabolism burn faster, and therefore his temperature ran higher than a normal person's. His body radiated heat like a space heater.
"Cold, doll?" he smirked, offering his arm.
"This damn rain makes it worse," Sawyer said threading her arm through his.
He chuckled softly. "Hopefully it will stop by the time we get to Brooklyn," Bucky said looking up at the clouds.
"Where do you want to go first?" she asked.
"We could try to find my old apartment building. See if it's still standing."
"Sounds like a good idea."
Sawyer heard footsteps approach. Bucky's hand automatically went to the waistband of his jeans where he kept one of the SIG-Sauer P226, he had taken from the Triskelion. She turned and noticed raven hair sticking out from under a hoodie and an iconic black leather jacket. She gently touched Bucky's arm, stilling his movements.
"You're late," she smirked as the figure made their way under the awning.
Jessica pushed back her hood and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Had to make sure the documents were up to par," she snipped. She pulled a manila envelope out from under her jacket and handed it to Sawyer.
She looked inside, noting four ID cards and four passports. She pulled out a passport; their new names were Leia and Harrison Antilles and they were from Chicago, IL.
"Points for the Star Wars reference."
Taking out the European passports, she noted their new nationality as Romanian. Opening it to find that Bucky's new name was Sergei Stanislav and her new name was Ana Stanislav. Everything appeared to be in order; she handed the packet to Bucky for his inspection.
"I had them give you the same last names on for both sets of documents. It should make it somewhat easier for you to travel together, you can come up whatever backstory you want" Jessica stated.
Sawyer nodded, "Thanks, Jewel."
"What have I told you about calling me that?" Jessica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest.
Sawyer ignored her, "I have something for you." She fished a small flash drive out of her laptop bag along with several one hundred dollar bills. She placed the drive and money in Jessica's hand. "I've hit a dead-end with my sister's case. You're the best investigator I know; if anyone can crack it, it's you. Just think of it as a case to work on in your downtime." It killed her to admit it, but at the moment she knew she wasn't not able to devote any time to working through leads relating to her sister's death. But, to leave it alone completely would feel like a betrayal. Jessica was aware of the situation; it had been one of the main reasons they had bonded in the first place. The traumatic loss of loved ones was a strong shared experience.
Jessica nodded solemnly, pocketing the drive before pulling Sawyer into a quick hug, "I'll do my best," she murmured.
"I know you will; there is no one I trust more with it."
"Thank you, Jessica," Bucky smiled placing the envelope in the laptop bag that hung on Sawyer's shoulder.
"No need to thank me, big guy," Jessica shrugged, "Just promise me you'll take care of her." She gave Sawyer a light shove. "She can be a bit reckless."
Bucky looked to Sawyer and smiled softly, "I will."
"Good, because if you don't, I'm coming for your kneecaps, soldier boy," she smiled wickedly.
Sawyer sighed, "Really?"
Jessica held up her hands, "Trish would say the same thing."
"Speaking of Trish, give her a call sometime, Jess. She's really worried about you. You don't have to be alone you know," she urged.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know" Jessica dismissed pulling up her hood and began to walk backward. "I've got to go; I have a meeting with a new client. I'll email you if I find anything, Sawyer."
Sawyer gave a slight wave as Jessica disappeared around the corner. "I worry about her sometimes," she mumbled.
"I know you do," Bucky affirmed. "Come on," he took her hand, "let's head on to Brooklyn."
Brooklyn. NYC. April 2014.
The rain continued to fall as Sawyer and Bucky made their way through Brooklyn. The gray sky dulled the colors of the brownstones. The high-pressure sodium street lights cast an eerie orange glow as they reflected off the slick pavement. Although it was only early afternoon, the sidewalks were almost bare with the weather having driven most pedestrians inside.
"You recognize anything?" Sawyer asked tilting her umbrella out of the way to look up at various buildings.
"Everything looks so different now," Bucky replied. "Some of the streets don't have the same names anymore."
"It's been over 70 years, Sarge, I wouldn't expect too much to stay the same."
"I guess it wouldn't," Bucky sighed stopping in front of a small bakery. He looked defeated.
Sawyer bit her lip. She had an idea; she just wasn't sure if it was advisable. She knew Steve's old apartment was still standing. While Bucky had been in the shower last night, she had done some research. Upon her return from the European front of World War II, Peggy Carter bought Steve's old apartment and eventually the whole building. As far as Sawyer could tell, she had donated it to the local historical society in 2012 where it was preserved and turned into a state historical site. She hadn't shared this information with Bucky because she wanted to see how much he could remember on his own without reminders of Captain America. But, at this point, it was clear that wasn't working. It made sense that his memories of Brooklyn would heavily involve Steve Rogers.
She sighed. "I have an idea," she offered. "I think it may work if you wanted to try it."
Bucky looked up. "What is it?"
"What if we tried Steve's old apartment?"
Bucky stood silent for a moment. "I doubt it's still there," he murmured.
"...It is," Sawyer said quietly. "It's been turned into a museum showcasing tenement living."
"I don't know," Bucky sighed, his voice tight.
"It's up to you," she said. Regarding his recovery, Sawyer made a point to give him choices, no matter how small of a decision, to remind him he was the one fully in control. She would move at whatever pace he wanted. Moving to stand next to him she took his hand in hers and gave it a small squeeze.
He squeezed her hand back and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, "Where to?"
Sawyer took out her tablet and pulled up a map of Brooklyn. The tenement building was located in the English Kills neighborhood in the 40s which was now East Williamsburg. Checking their location, Sawyer observed they were in Brooklyn Heights or Downtown Brooklyn. Her face fell slightly when she noted the distance. "We've got a walk ahead of us," she said looking to Bucky. He raised an eyebrow. "A little over 4 miles," Sawyer frowned, scrunching up her nose.
Bucky snorted, "That's nothin', doll. You wanna know how many miles per day the 107th marched in Italy?"
"Did it involve a walk uphill both ways in the snow, old man?" she retorted.
"Oh, you wound me." Bucky placed his hand on his chest and stumbled backward. Sawyer rolled her eyes. "Wait, you grew up in the mountains; didn't you ever go hiking?"
"It's not the same," she insisted.
Bucky chuckled and offered her his arm, "Come on, I'll carry you if you get tired," he teased.
It was early evening when they arrived at the tenement building, the gray sky darkened as the sun set. The older architecture made the museum stand out from the surrounding buildings. It appeared to be well-preserved and well-cared for; it wasn't dingy or grimy. The fire escapes looked to be freshly painted. Sawyer dropped her hold on Bucky's arm, giving him as much distance as he needed, just as she had done at the Smithsonian. She observed a metal plaque which adorned the side of the building. It read:
Rogers Tenement Building: Aside from housing numerous families who worked in the surrounding factories, this building was also the home of Captain Steven Grant Rogers and his mother, Sarah Rogers from 1918 to 1943. Purchased by Margaret Elizabeth "Peggy" Carter, the first Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division (S.H.I.E.L.D.) in early 1950; it was then donated to the Brooklyn Historical Society in 2012.
Sawyer ascended the steps toward Steve's old apartment. Halfway up the flight of stairs, she turned and noticed Bucky still stood at the base. He hadn't moved. Sadness and recognition flooded his features. She made her way down and stood next to him.
"I've walked up those steps numerous times, in all kinds of weather, in various different circumstances, but always to see him," he recalled. "It's strange to be back here after all this time, almost like nothing has changed." His gaze unfocused. "I remember walking him back here after his mother passed. She had worked as a nurse in a tuberculosis ward; it eventually caught up with her. We were so young, just out of high school. I tried talking him into coming to stay with me and my folks, 'just 'til ya get back on your feet' I told him," He chuckled and shook his head. "He was independent and so stubborn; he tried to join the Army at least 5 times. He wanted so badly to serve." Shame crested his features. "...I didn't..." Sawyer touched his arm softly, hoping to offer some form of reassurance. "I admired him so much that I couldn't bear to disappoint him. So when I was drafted in '43, I pretended to be excited and put on all this bravado, but I was absolutely terrified." His voice was brittle, as if he would shatter into a million pieces if he said another word.
"Your loyalty and devotion are what's admirable, Bucky," Sawyer said, "Steve was incredibly lucky to have you as a friend."
"I was lucky to have him," Bucky replied.
She nodded in agreement. Instantly, she was knocked forward into Bucky as sharp pain exploded just below the right side of her ribcage. She gasped in pain; her head spun. She struggled to remain conscious, the adrenaline pulsing through her veins fought to keep her awake. She heard more shots ring out through the area. She felt her feet drag across the concrete before being propped up against a brick wall. She drew many deep sharp breaths in through her nose. Faintly, she heard her name being called. Bucky's face appeared in front of her. Sawyer closed her eyes and shook her head to clear the fogginess of shock.
"Tactical suit," she croaked, swallowing hard. "It's nothing."
Sawyer heard multiple pounding footsteps on the concrete heading in their general direction. "How many?" she asked reached for the gun she kept strapped to her ankle, wincing in pain as she did so.
"At least ten HYDRA agents," Bucky said firing a few shots around the corner. "Maybe more."
Sawyer nodded, "They must have been observing places that they thought you may go after your escape. Can't believe we didn't think of that." Bucky nodded in agreement. She moved to stand up, and he moved to stop her. Sawyer shook her head, cocking her gun. "Slight bruising," she stated, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Come on, I'll cover you." Bucky stared at her for a moment and then nodded.
They both rounded the corner. Bucky charged towards the group using his metal arm to deflect oncoming bullets. If he could close the distance, the guns wouldn't be as effective.
"21 feet. That's all he needs."
She sighted those furthest from Bucky. There was a high probability that they had bulletproof vests, but aiming for center mass was the best chance she had for incapacitating them until Bucky could finish the job. She made careful shots until she became more comfortable with the weapon, increasing her speed with each shot. Sawyer was surprised at her accuracy. It wasn't perfect; but better than she expected.
As she went to reload, a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She cried out in pain, losing her grip on her gun in the process. "Fuck, what is it with you HYDRA goons and the hair-pulling?" she hissed gripping the hand that held her hair, trying to weave her fingers through theirs to loosen the hold. The agent's arm wound around her waist and pulled her tight against him.
"Aw, you'd think Rumlow's young piece of ass would be into that sort of thing," the agent's voice sneered in her ear. Sawyer froze. She knew that voice. Jack Rollins. "Maybe after we put your new boyfriend's brain back in the blender, I'll re-educate you."
She thrashed against him. His grip on her head made it impossible for her to smash in his nose or turn her body. She quickly fumbled for one of the taser disks she had placed in her front jacket pocket. However, Rollins knocked her hand away sending the disk flying down the alley. Sawyer continued to struggle against his hold.
Rollins laughed cruelly and used his free hand to roam up and down her body. He groped her breasts before dipping into the waistband of her pants and slithering in between her thighs roughly palming her through her underwear. She kicked wildly. One of her kicks made contact with his knee breaking his hold as he stumbled backward. She fell forward lunging for the gun, her wrist pinching painfully in the process as she hit the ground. A whistling noise pierced the night air as she flipped over gun drawn. A soft thud sounded as an arrow buried itself in Jack Rollins' neck. He gave a soft "oomph" before collapsing to the ground.
"Fancy seeing you here, Agent Beck!" a voice called from down the alleyway.
"Late to the party, as usual, Barton," Sawyer quipped cradling her wrist against her chest as she stood up. She had lost sight of Bucky in the struggle with Rollins. She turned swiftly and found him dispatching the last HYDRA agent. She ran for him and called out his his name. He turned to her, eyes wide with fear. They collided together in an embrace.
"Are you okay?" he breathed, wrapping his arms protectively around her.
"I'm fine," she panted. "I think my wrist might be broken." Bucky pulled away, searching her face and body for more injuries. "I'm fine, I promise." She noticed Bucky tense and raise his gun. Turning back, she noticed Clint had drawn his bow, an arrow poised ready to take flight. Sawyer pushed Bucky's arm down, "Don't. He's a friendly." Bucky looked to her for confirmation. She nodded. He placed the gun in the waistband of his jeans. Sawyer motioned for Clint to do the same. He placed the arrow back in his quiver and walked over, picking his way through the bodies of the HYDRA agents.
"Agent Clint Barton," Clint stated, sticking his hand out to Bucky.
Bucky eyed the outstretched hand warily before taking it. "Sergeant James Barnes."
"Good to meet you, Barnes," Clint replied. He turned to the former analyst, "What in the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, Nightingale?'
"As much as I would like to answer that question, Dad. We need to get off the streets," she advised. "Three people surrounded by a plethora of dead people isn't a good look for anyone.
"She's right," Bucky said, looking around.
"Always is," affirmed Clint. "Come on, I have a Quinjet parked in the Navy Yard." He started down the alley.
Sawyer moved to follow, but a new wave of pain radiating from her back caused her knees to buckle. She gave a strangled cry, grasping at her side as she doubled over. The sudden drop in adrenaline made her body more aware of the pain caused by the earlier gunshot. Her hand felt wet and sticky. The smell of copper cut through the air. Sawyer's head swam; black spots clouded her vision.
"Sawyer!" Bucky gasped. She felt his hands on her upper arms.
"What happened?" Clint asked.
"She took a hit," Bucky said, "They ambushed us."
"Slight bruising," Sawyer minimized in between deep breaths. "Tactical suit."
"Bruising, my ass. I've got medical supplies in the Quinjet. We need to check to see if she is bleeding internally," Clint said.
Bucky nodded. He helped her to a sitting position. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut. "Put your arms around my neck," Bucky said softly.
"But, I'm not tired, Sarge," Sawyer quipped halfheartedly. He gave her a stern look. She obeyed, Bucky lifted her, placing one arm under her knees and one around her back. She whimpered at the movement.
"Fucking HYDRA," Sawyer groaned. "I really liked this jacket." She heard Bucky chuckle. Her head rested against his broad chest. He was so warm. His comforting scent filled her nostrils as she lost consciousness.