Author's Note: Marvel owns what it owns, and I own what I own, let's keep it that way shall we? Don't Sue me!
T.W.: some mentions of violence and mentioned gendered violence (implied rape/sexual assault).
Recommended Listening: My Hero by Paramore, Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes, Spendin' All my Rainy Days With you Glenn Crytzer's Savoy Seven, Sh-Boom by Crew Cuts, Mad About the Boy by Helen Forrest and Carmen Dragon and His Orchestra, and Un Sospiro by Frank Liszt
Chapter 20: A Protector of (Wo)Man
Pulling his jacket closer, he watched the three men exit the apartment building and start their walk down the street, obviously very pleased with themselves. He'd waited outside his neighbor's door long enough to know that they weren't going to resort to violence before he'd staked out the exit he'd knew they'd use when they left. When they were a good fifty feet ahead of him, he started walking after.
This was very quickly becoming a habit. Whether this was a good or a bad habit, he was of two minds, but then again, he was of two minds about most things.
Fortunately, things had been relatively quiet, there hadn't been any further attempt by Hydra to bring him in, and he'd been able to shelter down in place for most of the winter, moving when he absolutely had to. The new year had come and gone, and now it looked like he was going to have to move again soon.
You could've stayed longer had you not gotten involved.
That really was the trick, wasn't it? With Hydra he'd been trained to focus solely on the mission. The mission objective was paramount, no matter the cost. Yet, there was the other part of him, the part that had lived for twenty-six years as Bucky Barnes that wanted to help people, wanted to make this world less of a shit hole. After almost 70 years working with Hydra, he owed the world at least that.
It had started the day the elevator in the apartment building had gone out. There was a lady, his neighbor, struggling with her two small children and several bags of groceries. After ascending several flights of stairs, they'd made eye contact, they'd nodded at one another, and he'd asked her if she wanted help. It had gone from there. They'd nod at one another, talk about the weather, inquire after one another's health, and then climb the twelve flights of stairs up to their floor.
He didn't know her name, and they hadn't exchanged more than half a dozen words at any given time. However, from what he'd gathered, she was alone, raising two children. Where her children's father was, he didn't know, but something felt off about the entire thing. It started as only the barest twinge of an inkling in the back of his mind when he heard heavy booted footsteps come and go from her apartment every week around the same time. Then, one day he'd heard raised voices, something about a loan. Then he'd seen her, they'd made eye contact, and she'd turned away. He couldn't see any marks on her, but he could see her wince as she picked up her youngest child, and the limp as she started up the stairs.
She's being harassed by loan sharks.
What precisely the circumstances were, he didn't know. Was that what had happened to her children's father? Had he been dying and she'd taken out the loan? His mind spun a universe of possibilities of what had happened to make her take out a loan with these people.
He could see Winifred Barnes, his mother, her hands gnarled and worn to the bone trying to make ends meet, see her expression worn and tired in the woman's features. He could see his sister Rachel, her heel broken, her nylons torn, walking home with a limp. He could see the wide eyes and fear of his sisters in the face of his neighbor. He could remember the gnawing hunger and the bitter cold and the desperation of being sick in the long cold months, the arguments he'd had with his parents over if he should take out a loan, just to make ends meet. He remembered the type of desperation you were driven to and the stories of what happened to those who couldn't pay back their loans.
How will this keep you safe? How will this keep you from Hydra's clutches? Will that woman be any safer if you become one of their agents again because of your little act of generosity?
He could see Natalia's expression, the absolute distaste she'd had for men that would beat defenseless women. He could see the way her jaw tensed, and her eyes narrowed. Stay on mission. He'd warned her. Yet she would never listen, and he would help.
He could see Steve Rogers, nose bleeding, with a fresh shiner after one of his many fights in a back alley. Sometimes, I think you like getting punched. Steve would look up at him, 'You don't understand Buck.' But he did understand. He'd always come to Steve's aid, and he'd always backed Steve up any time he needed.
He could hear Ramirez's voice, no more than a low growl, 'Let go of me, Jack...or I'll break your fucking hand before I break your face.' Her fists balled, ready to fight.
This shouldn't be a difficult thing, something that he debated point for point. Yet every time he'd done something like this since leaving Last Chance, it was the continuous debate. He knew which side would win, which side had to win. There wasn't a choice in this, only an absolute certainty that he needed to help.
His marks were talking loudly, their laughter boisterous and echoing as they walked. They were proud of a job well done, and the fear they inspired in their clients. He picked up the pace, and as if sensing someone was behind them, they started walking a little faster. Cowards. He wanted to inspire the same fear in them that he'd seen in the face of his neighbor. He wanted them to know what it was like to feel helpless.
They veered off into an alleyway. Bad move. He followed behind them, where the men found that the gate that was usually unlocked had been chained and padlocked. They turned around to face him.
"I need to talk to you." He said shortly.
The leader scoffed, "If you want to talk to business. You should come to my office."
"The widow's loan." He continued.
"The widow? You mean the whore?" The leader and his two stooges laughed.
He'd been willing, up until this exact moment, to be lenient. He didn't want to break every bone in their bodies, but he would, and now he would enjoy it.
It only took a second, and the two lackeys were laid out on the ground, and he had the leader pined against the wall by his neck. "What do you want? I'll do anything I swear!" The man sputtered, his feet desperately searching for the ground.
"Consider the widow's debt repaid as of now." He said, pulling a stack of bills from his pocket with his right hand and shoved them in the man's jacket. "And you cease your valuable community service, immediately. Otherwise, you deal with me. Do you understand?" He growled, tightening his grip, the mechanisms in the prosthetic hand whirling and clicking.
The man whimpered.
"I said, do you understand me?"
"Yes, yes, please let me go!" He choked out.
"Good." He snarled, "Now get the hell out of here." He dropped the man and watched as he clambered to his feet and darted from the alley, his two associates still stunned. He glanced down at them as they came to. "I'd run if I were you."
They staggered into a run, nearly tripping over themselves as they went, and he watched them go. With any luck, that would be the end of it, but he would wait to make sure, and then it would be time to move on.
Pulling his jacket closer and adjusting his hood, he exhaled a long slow breath as a feeling of dread crept into his stomach. Had he made the right choice? He'd thought he'd made the right choice before, and it had ended in nothing but regret. This time he'd stick around long enough to make sure that nothing happened. He'd learned his lesson.
Walking out of the alley onto the main road, he shoved both hands in his pockets and started back toward the apartment complex as the snow began to fall around him in soft flakes. Things were going to be okay for the widow now. He'd make sure of that.
It was raining, she'd been robbed, and one of her heels had broken. Limping down the sidewalk, nylons torn, knee bleeding, Maggie did everything she could to keep from crying. She could only hope she'd be able to get into her apartment, or that the landlord would be at home to let her in. Leaning against a signpost, she fumbled with the ankle strap, trying to undo it so she could at walk a little bit faster.
Then she froze at the sound of footsteps approaching. Multiple footsteps. Loud, drunken, disorderly footsteps. Her heart started pounding. She didn' t have anything else they could possibly want...unless. She stood up straight, hands balled in a fist, ready to turn around and fight when out of nowhere, a hand grabbed her arm.
Maggie jerked back, whirling around, her free hand raised, turned to face the would-be assailant.
"Whoa. Whoa. It's just me." And there he was, silhouetted in the lamplight, like her knight in shining armor.
"Bucky?" She stammered, lowering her hand, blinking through the rain and the tears.
"Hey doll, I'm glad I found you. You okay?" He asked as he let go of her arm.
"Bucky?" She repeated, her voice shaking, her control and resolve melting away in the rain.
"Can you walk?" He surveyed her quickly.
"My...My shoe...oh my shoe..." She managed, tears starting to fall.
"You're shaking, take my coat." He said, shrugging out of his jacket, draped it over her shoulders. "Let me get those for you." He knelt down, carefully unclasping the ankle strap, freeing her foot from her broken shoe before doing the same with her other shoe. Rising, he extended his hand to her. "Com' on, let's get you out of this rain."
Maggie nodded, taking his hand, they started walking, the loud, boisterous footfalls had dissolved into nothing.
"How'd you find me?" She asked, trying to still the shaking in her voice.
" Becca hadn't' heard from you, so she sent me to look," he explained, stopping as she stumbled. "Here, let me support you." He let her hand go, and put his right hand around her waist.
She was shaking, and the world blurred in and out of focus as the whole world spun. "It's okay. You're okay." He murmured.
"Is it?" She tried to laugh.
"I suppose you're right." Bucky conceded after a moment.
"Do you often go and rescue your sister's friends from attackers in the rain?"
"I do, on occasion, provide specific search and rescue services when called upon."
Maggie chuckled, "What an upstanding citizen you are, James Barnes."
Bucky laughed softly, but said nothing, tightening his grip on her waist.
Her right hand on the hand he had around her waist, she pulled the coat closer to her with her left, leaning into Bucky 's touch. It was firm but gentle as he guided her down the street. A thought occurred to her. "Barnes, where are we going? You don't know where I live."
"My folk's place isn't too far from here," Bucky replied after a moment. "We can wait out this rain, and find you some dry clothes."
Her stomach dropped. "Your parent's house? Bucky. I don't think- I mean. You bringing home a strange, wet, brown girl in the middle of the night? It isn't exactly the first impression I wanted to make on your family."
"Dad'll be on the night shift, and so it'll just be ma' and the girls." He answered. "Bec's been talking you up, and ma would have my hide if she knew I let you go home in this condition."
'This Condition?' She would've echoed indignantly, but the last dregs of her energy and fight had long expired, so she simply nodded and put her head against his shoulder as they walked the rest of the way in silence.
They made their way up the stairs and to the back door. Bucky fished a spare key from under a brick and unlocked it, ushering her inside the dark kitchen. "I'll see if I can find you some dry clothes while we wait out the storm." He whispered as a crash of lightning and thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the dishes and rattling the windows "Stay here." He motioned to the kitchen table.
Turning, he froze as the kitchen light flickered on to reveal a Mrs. Winifred Barnes in a nightgown and robe, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, while three other curious faces peered around the corner. "James Buchanan Barnes, what do you think you're doing?" She asked pointedly.
Bucky opened and closed his mouth, trying to find his words.
"I was mugged. Your son came and rescued me, and he wanted to make sure I got home safely, but it was raining, and your home was closer than mine. I am so sorry. I lost my key and didn't know what else to do. I was only going to wait out the storm. I didn't mean to cause any trouble." She rushed, near tears. "I'm so sorry, please don't be upset with him."
Mrs. Barnes expression softened. "Rachel, go get our guest some dry clothes. Abigail take her to get changed, Becca make up the couch for your brother's...friend." Winifred Barnes concluded pointedly before turning to her. "I didn't catch your name, dear."
"Magdalene Ramirez ma'am, but most people call me Maggie."
At this, Mrs. Barnes smiled warmly. "You're the one my daughter has been telling me so much about."
"Yes, ma'am." Maggie nodded urgently, tears nearly choking her as she tried to hold them back.
"Well then, go with Abigail, you can stay with us for the night." Maggie followed Abigail from the kitchen, glancing back to catch the stern expression Winifred Barnes was leveling on her son.
Then she was on the couch, wrapped in several blankets with a mug of warm milk, listening to the radio while the Barnes girls chatted quietly. Winifred Barnes sat in a severe chair kitting, and presiding over the whole thing. Bucky sat beside her, also wrapped in blankets, grasping a mug of warm milk in both hands, avidly avoiding eye contact with her.
"I didn't get you in trouble, did I?" She murmured into her mug.
"No." He shook his head, hair wet and sticking to his face and forehead.
" Thank you for coming to my rescue." She said, looking down into her mug.
"Any time."
They glanced at one another, making eye contact.
" Time for bed!" Winifred Barnes announced. Everyone rose to their feet. Abigail and Rachel bid Maggie and Bucky goodnight, followed by Becca before Mrs. Barnes turned off the radio. "Tell Miss Ramirez goodnight and go to bed, James."
"Good Night." He said almost bashfully, pecking her on the cheek like he'd done with sisters only moments before. Wishing his mother goodnight, he retreated down the hall without looking back.
" Goodnight, Mrs. Barnes." Maggie managed.
Winifred nodded firmly and walked to her bedroom, leaving the hall light on.
Maggie had no doubt that woman had every night time sound memorized and that she would know if anyone was out of bed.
Finishing off her milk, she set the mug on the coffee table, pausing as she caught a motion out of the corner of her eye. Bucky was standing out on the fire escape in the rain, beckoning her to come to the window. Carefully unwrapping herself from the mass of blankets, Maggie carefully made her way to the window. Opening it, Bucky stuck his head inside and kissed her, his hand cupping her face. They pulled away, a devilish grin on his expression. "You really thought I'd go to bed without giving you a proper goodnight kiss?" He murmured.
"You're going to get us in trouble." She chuckled quietly.
"We'll deal with that in the morning." He paused, his expression changing, becoming more grave and urgent. "You need to wake up."
"What?"
"Wake up, doll! You need to help Steve."
Maggie jolted awake and immediately winced. "Fuck." She breathed.
She'd fallen asleep at the desk again. Her left arm and hand curled under her, her face on the keyboard. Someone had been kind enough to draw a blanket over her shoulders. She blinked blearily at the computer screen and smiled. The massive data file she'd been downloading had finally completed.
Maggie closed her eyes, trying to recall the rapidly fading dream. She remembered the rain, the warm living room with Mrs. Barnes watching her with those intense blue Barnes eyes. She remembered kissing Barnes on the fire escape, or rather the 1940s Barnes shaped entity of her dreams kissing her.
It had been strange. Since she'd started talking with Becca and learning more and more about the man and his life before being draft and sent off to the European theater during WWII, she'd been having increasingly vivid and suggestive dreams involving her and James Barnes. Her and Bucky going out dancing, her and Bucky at the fairgrounds, her and Bucky apparently going to meet his mother in the middle of a rainstorm at ten o'clock at night after she'd been mugged.
The last one made sense of a sort. She'd been chasing down a potential lead for weeks now and had been entirely absorbed in following that thread involving Barnes, apparently preventing mugging, assaults, and just general street harassment. The holidays and come and gone, and now she was facing the approaching the first anniversary of Barnes stumbling onto Last Chance Ranch. All things being equal, she'd really really like it if she didn't have to spend it in the tower.
What's the likelihood that I'm actually going to find him.
She tried to ignore that thought, that nagging persistent feeling in the back of her mind. We're going to find him, and then you'll get to go home.
Maggie sighed, pausing as the sounds of the apartment filtered into her still half-asleep brain. There was piano music and the smell of coffee brewing and breakfast being made. Panic overcame her, and she glanced at the time and moaned. "Steve!" She grumbled, hauling herself from the office chair and out into the apartment. "It's almost noon!"
"It is." He agreed without looking up from the frying pan, where he had two eggs cooking, sunny side up.
"You should've woken me up." She said, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "What can I do?"
"Sit down and drink your orange juice." He replied. "Freshly squeezed."
Maggie rolled her eyes, sliding up onto the barstool she took a sip of the OJ Steve had made for her, mind still working through her dream. It had been strange. Dreaming about living in the 1940s and Bucky Barnes coming to the rescue? Bucky Barnes introducing you to his mother? Bucky Barnes kissing you in the rain? But then it had sorta switched and had given her a direct instruction. You need to help Steve.
Maggie glanced up. Steve was in his standard post work out attire and looked content, making eggs and bacon and toast. They were supposed to hear from Sam and Natasha today about one of their leads.
"I missed the briefing, didn't I?" She moaned slumping down and putting her head against the granite countertop
"Wasn't really anything to brief, besides it looked like you could use the rest."
Maggie sat back up, looking up at him. He was trying not to be disappointed, but it radiated from every pore. "I'm sorry, Steve."
"Just a false start, we'll find him," Steve said although it didn't sound like he believed it any more than she did.
She nodded. They'd had a lot of false starts, dead ends, and downright misses. It was hard, and it looked like it was taking its toll on him. She pondered on her dream, what Bucky, or her brain rather, had meant by you have to help Steve. She was helping Steve. She was helping him track down the man who'd ruined her life.
No, not like that.
Maggie pulled out her phone, checking to see if the large file had synced with her other data. She paused, glancing between the phone and It wasn't a lead so much as it was hearsay, but it was hopeful, and that's what Steve needed at the moment. "You know how back in June last year I asked you what I thought Barnes was up to when he's not yanno, avoiding us?"
"Yeah. And I said I'd rather not think about it."
"Well. I found my answer." Maggie nodded, pinging the file to Steve's phone. "Check your phone. I can finish that up." She downed the orange juice and round the bar, taking the spatula from his unprotesting hand, his gaze focused on the phone screen.
"These...these are all him?" He asked uncertainly.
"From what I can gather, yes. They all match the same M.O. I've been trying to hack into security feeds to see if my hunch is correct. But right now, it looks like your friend is moonlighting as protector of man...well woman." She said, sneaking a glance at Steve, his eyes glued to the screen. "Does that sound in character for your friend?"
"Yeah...Yeah, Buck...he uhhh...he used to do that type of stuff Abigail...she uhhh...a guy," Steve stopped, clearing his throat. "Bucky made it a point to walk his sisters and their friends home. Same with the women he stepped out with. "He paused, glancing up at her. "Can we?"
"No." She shook her head. "All the stories are weeks, months old. Even if we could trace them back to their direct origins, it's not likely he'll still be there." She said. "But I'll see what I can do."
So he has a history of protecting and or saving women from shitty men. It wasn't just a fluke then that had happened back on the Ranch with Jack Roberts. How much left of Bucky Barnes, and how much of the soldier remained? They didn't know, but this was an encouraging sign, to say the least.
They ate their eggs in silence, Steve still pouring over the contents of the file she'd sent him.
Maggie couldn't help but think about that dream. It had felt so real—the physical and the emotional. You're just touch starved and depressed you need a good lay and a therapist. It was stupid. This was stupid.
So she hadn't been laid in a while, and meeting people was more or less out of the picture while she was on Hydra's shit list, and she'd more or less been inundated with warm and fuzzy stories from the man's sister about what a kind, charming, and delightful human being her brother was.
So she was developing a crush on James Barnes. No, she couldn't say that. She wasn't fantasizing about the James Barnes born March 15, 1919, who had fallen off the train in 1945 and been the Winter Soldier for the last seventy years. She was fantasizing about Bucky Barnes, American heartthrob, Howling Commando, and make-believe fictitious every man of her dreams. A man based solely on memories and recollections of his young sister and his best friend and or lover depending on the day.
To be fair, she was also reading massive quantities of reports, talking about all the horrible shit that the Winter Soldier had done over the course of the last 70 years. The guy had an impressive wrap sheet. But still, it was obvious that these were two very different people, living simultaneously in the body of the man who'd slept on her barn. She was the only one who knew the man in the post hydra context. But the part she had a crush on was the near-mythic 1940s sweetheart she'd seen in the newsreels and heard so much about since she'd started looking for the man.
Was this her way of maintaining the bare semblance of normalcy? Dreaming about going out on dates, having regular conversations, meeting normal people? Being introduced to his mother?
"Did your friend ever bring anyone home to meet his folks?" Maggie blurted out before she could stop herself.
Steve nearly choked on his eggs. "What?" He coughed.
Taking a large drink of her coffee, she bought herself a little bit of time. Why did she want to know that? Perhaps she was curious if Winifred Barnes had ever given Bucky the same look she'd seen in the dream? Maybe she wanted to know if Bucky had ever dated anyone who wasn't...well...part of the same demographic? But why did it matter? She wasn't going to be meeting Barnes any time soon, never mind his mother. But she was curious. "Was Bucky ever serious enough with any of the Dames he stepped out with to bring em' home to the folks?" Maggie said nearly as amazed to hear that string of words come out of her mouth as Steve was.
"I wouldn't rightly know. Becca would know more so than me." Steve said. "Why?"
"No reason. Just curious." She answered as innocently as she could manage. She was absolutely not prepared to tell Steve that she was having cutesy 1940s wet dreams about his best friend and historical squeeze.
"I mean, Bucky was always the charming one. Girls lining up to dance with him, and of course, he was always the perfect gentleman, but at the end of the night, it was always just him and me." He paused. "I never was sure if I was jealous of Bucky or the girls." He shook his head. "Anyway. Doesn't exactly matter now, does it?"
"Well. It matters to you. Doesn't it?"
"It's complicated."
"It normally is." She agreed. She wasn't going to push him. He was having a hard time as it was, She wouldn't compound it.
"Thank you for coming and checking on me." She said after a long pause.
"Of course." Steve nodded. "You've been working so hard...I just wanted to make sure..." He paused. "Make sure that you know you have people looking out for you."
Maggie smiled. "I appreciate that Steve, thank you."
She surveyed him. He looked tired. Well. Not so much tired as just worn out. Stretched so thin he was nearly see-through. Something had been bothering him, but she couldn't quite make out what it was. Was it the Avengers? Was it Barnes? Or was it something else? He had made a couple of trips down to Washington DC to see Margaret Carter over the past few months, but she wasn't sure that was it either. Was it something between him and Sam? Surely Sam would've mentioned something if they were fighting. Whatever the case, Steve looked as though he could use a hug. If she was being honest, so could she, and it looked like Steve would give great hugs.
"Steve?" She said weakly after a moment.
"Yeah?"
"I could really use a hug."
"Yeah, me too." He agreed
They embraced one another. It wasn't a tight embrace, Steve it seemed was being gentle with her, handling her with care. But she was right, Steve gave amazing hugs, and she leaned into him. It had been forever since she'd just been held, and she missed it. There was a collective exhale as they just stood there, held momentarily in each other's arms.
They parted after a moment, and Steve cleared his throat.
"I appreciate it. Thank you for everything."
"Of course." He nodded.
Her phone buzzed, and Maggie grabbed it off the counter and frowned. "Damn. Becca had to cancel again." She muttered, quickly texting her back. "She's been really busy lately. Is everything okay? I mean with her and the family and everything?" Maggie glanced up at Steve, who had silently retreated back into the kitchen and was doing the dishes. "Steve?"
"Huh?" He replied, feigning like he hadn't heard her.
Maggie's frown deepened, a knot twisting in her stomach. He was being evasive. Something was wrong, something that Steve wasn't telling her, and that he wouldn't tell her if she continued to press him on it. "I was asking if you wanted to go to the MET. There's an exhibit that opened in December on Mbembe Art, 'Warriors and Mothers' I think it's called that I wanted to go see," She said. "I didn't want to drag Fabian along for hours and hours. Figured someone with your artistic skill and interest would be happier being drug along to the exhibit than personal security if you have the time, of course."
Steve sighed, it was inaudible, but Maggie could see some of the tension ease from his shoulders. "I'd like that, Ramirez. Let me finish up these dishes and get cleaned up."
She smiled, slipping her phone into her pocket, "Sounds like a plan."
Whatever was wrong, it could wait. She was doing what Bucky had asked. She was helping Steve, even if it meant being a distraction from their mission. Perhaps she'd be able to get something more about Barnes from Steve in a context divorced from the Avengers and Captain America. Aside from that, it would be good for them, living in the present, rather than in the past, in dreams and memories.
You need to wake up, doll!
That had been the other part of his instructions. Did he mean literally wake up? Or was it a different, more cryptic warning? You can't live in a dream world. Even though it was easier, it was nicer to live in dreams and imagine a life and a reality different than her own, perhaps it was time to wake up. Perhaps.
I know this was a shorter one, but I hope you all enjoyed! I know I enjoyed writing this particular chapter! I look forward to hearing what you all thought! Comments are always welcome and appreciated. Any guesses on what's going to happen? Or what Mags and the gang are going to get up to?
I look forward to hearing from you! Happy Reading!
