Previously:
These men were simple to deal with. No match for the Winter Soldier. But I didn't want to be that. The Asset. No more killing. But it was hard. Harder to keep them alive than to kill.
A sharp pain sliced across my chest. Three at once. Made trickier with a barely listening arm.
Seven targets incapacitated.
The last one found himself in my choke hold.
Crush the throat. Target incapacitated.
The light was fast fading from those eyes.
Punch to the face. Break the skull. Target incapacitated.
Hands clawed at my arm.
Cut off the oxygen supply. Wait. Target incapacitated.
"Hey, Buddy, let go," the young woman ordered. Voice scratchy but somehow still soft.
I quickly released the man. Backed away. Tripped over a hopefully unconscious body. I tried to slow my racing heart. But it only pounded harder at the crackle. The crackle of electricity snapping through the air.
The young woman stood over the bodies. Completely favoring her right leg. The left was injured. The one who caught her. The one she bit. The one who pulled too hard on her foot. Her hand fell to her side. Taser clutched by her bloodied fingers.
"Bastards be glad the fucking bear mace is at the bloody hotel," she sneered with a huff.
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(Edited 2018 09 14)
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Chapter 4: Bucky Barnes - Perfectly Toasted Toast
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Her body dropped. Right onto one of the men she had tasered. Her face skewed in pain.
"You," she gritted out. Trying to mask a scream. It came out a whimper. "You alright, Bud – Oh god! Shit! You need a fucking hospital!" She pulled out the little black device, tapping on the glowing side.
"No!" I cried out. Panic pulling the air right out of my lungs. "I… I can't…."
"I don't even have a bloody signal to call them anyways…. There's probably more of those damn bastards around." Her uninjured foot kicked out at one of the unconscious men. Her expression was caught between pain and irritation. "I need to get a hold of Eve."
She tried to get up. Failed. Hissing in pain. Clutching her leg. Rolling over. Defeated.
One look at her ankle and I knew. She wouldn't be able to walk a step. An ankle shouldn't be bent that way.
"Bite down on something," I told her.
"Wha?" Confusion peered through her winces. Arms pushing herself up. So she could stare at me in question.
I leaned forwards. Grabbed her heel. Yanked hard. A pop.
Her body rocked back. Curling into a ball. Her fist flew to her mouth. Screaming around it. The fist did a poor job to muffle her.
Huffing, she shot me a scathing glare. "Some fucking warning would've been nice."
"I did," I stated.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
I scanned the shadows for more men. We were sitting ducks. Here out in the open. Then there was the pile of bodies. I had to clean this mess. Or the target might move.
"Oh, put that guy down." The young woman turning onto her front. Crawling towards the spot the food truck was usually parked. Her back to me. Unguarded. She saw what I could do. But she still stayed unwisely unguarded. "You're in no shape to be hauling bodies, Buddy."
"I… I can't…" I tried to form some sentence. Something coherent that wouldn't have her calling the cops on me.
I needed to stay hidden. Which meant this never happened. These bodies needed to disappear. The target. I finally found her. I needed this to go away.
"Yay, signal's back."
My stomach dropped. I needed to say something. Fast. Anything. To stop her. "Please don't… I…I –"
"Oh yeah… got that fucking message…." She tapped at the glowing device. "A voice message? Who the hell uses voice message?"
"Val, I do hope you got away from them." A female voice emanated from that little device in her hand. "If you did manage, there's some help under your usual spot. You have a narrow window. There's more of them. Hurry. They're everywhere."
The young woman looked up. Stared right at me. Easy enough to understand the words in those pale eyes.
I turned to the bench. Checked the underside. Right under where she always sat. There was another device taped under it. Not making much sense of it, I tossed it to her.
With a click and two beeps, that same voice began speaking. "Head west. Avoid cars. Get to the safe house."
At those words, I dropped the body of the unconscious man. He was still breathing. Not dead.
I walked up to the young woman. She didn't even notice. Muttering something about losing the signal again. Arms waving the first device about. Her head snapped up when I grabbed her. Gray eyes widened in confusion. Less fear than I had expected.
I didn't give her much time to react. Slung her over my good shoulder.
She yelped. Head bouncing off my back. "What are you –?!" A groan of pain killed her struggling.
Ready to exit the park via the western entrance, I paused. "The bodies…."
They were just lying there. Hopefully, most of them were merely unconscious. But I couldn't leave them here.
"Eve will take care of them. Can't have it getting out there was another kidnapping…. Shit, there's no sun. Umm… Do you know which way is north? We're supposed to be heading north…?"
"The message said west."
"Yeah… but we can't just leave blatant messages to the safe houses. It's north. We need to go north."
With a frown, I headed around the fountain to use the northern entrance. I could feel her breathing erratically. Worsening with every passing second.
Panic. Fear. Agony.
My need to get out of the open quelled much of my own pains and worries.
The slash across my chest. It hurt. But I was functional.
Her ankle, on the other hand, wasn't.
A mix of caution and paranoia kept me in the shadows. An eye always on our surroundings. Searching for any movement. Most of it was in houses. Beyond the thin curtains.
"At the red house, go south. 8341."
"Quiet," I hushed her. Pushing us against a hedge. Movement up ahead. Another team of four rushed past us. In a slow moving car.
I could feel her trying to track them from the way she moved on my shoulder. Only after they disappeared from sight did she whisper, "Pretty sure this is the red house?"
I glanced at the building and frowned.
"It's green," I hissed back.
It's green. Even in the night.
It was clearly green.
"Just go east from here, Buddy. House number 7038."
With a sigh, I went on the move again. There was nobody else in our path.
Didn't even have to walk more than 200 meters. A house with the numbers 7038. Nailed onto the wall.
I froze at the curb.
The light turned on. The door swung open. I was about ready to book it down the street. But there was nobody. Just an empty doorway. Into a lit foyer.
Unease filled my gut.
"Get inside, Buddy. Before they find us."
My legs listened to the order. I wanted to fight against it. Far too many alarms were blaring in my head.
Once inside, I couldn't help the flinch.
The door shut behind me. All on its own. Nobody was hiding behind the door.
We were alone.
"It's okay, Buddy. It's just Eve."
'Who the hell is this Eve?'
A ghost? An actual ghost? Who'd taken to haunting little devices?
I couldn't hear anyone else in the house. No footsteps. Just our own breathing. It really was only the two of us in this house.
A pop hit my ears. Then something moved in the metal arm. I couldn't feel what it was. But the force was enough to register on the plates.
My flinch coupled with her own sent her head into the door.
The young woman groaned in agony. Clutching her head. "What was that?"
"Nothing."
She couldn't find out about the arm. It would give me away. It would cause too many questions. And, a part of me just didn't want her to know.
I could only hope that it wasn't damaged more. It was enough of a nuisance as it was.
"…'Kay? Umm… Upstairs, master bathroom. There should be a first aid kit… under the sink?"
Wordlessly, I made my way up the steps. Dropped her on the large bed. Leaving her to yell her string of colorful words. In the bathroom under the sink, there was a kit. As she said.
"I'm glad the man in the park decided to help out after all," that voice spoke.
It came from all over the house. Was she haunting this house? She knew of me. Did she know who I was?
"Before you run, if you want that tracker in that arm of yours out, you'll stay."
"Tracker?" I repeated. Barely finding my voice. Fear found its way through my veins.
They could find me.
"You didn't think you've managed to escape them so easily, have you? The jammer I had placed in your arm was deactivated the moment you stepped in here. I got something better set up here that'll block the signal, but the second you leave this house, they'll find you."
"…Was that why there's no signal on my phone?" the young woman questioned. Half hopping. Half hobbling. Half swearing her way across the room. To stand in front of a large black screen. "Eve, mind pulling up a video of how to stitch a wound?"
She cringed away from the bright light of the screen. She sent a smile my way. Her head tilting towards the armchair near her. "Come sit. Off with the jacket and shirt. Let's see what we can do about that bloody mess you've got going on."
Her attention turned back to the screen. Filled with an artificial cut flesh and a pair of gloved hands. A voice spoke. Coming from behind the screen. A male one. With instructions on how to suture.
I hated myself for sitting down. I wanted to run. Not pull off my jacket to reveal the arm. Or my shirt to show the mess of scars and burns. The marred skin where the metal fused to my flesh.
The young woman partly watched the video. Rifling through the first aid kit. Pulling out a pile of shirts from the dresser. She poured a good portion of the isopropyl alcohol on her hands, a needle and thread. The liquid soaked into the shirts.
"Where the fuck did the hydrogen peroxide go? Eve? It's not in here."
"Sparks may have used it up…" stated the now eerie voice. The hairs on the back of my neck stood. Even a shiver found its way up my spine.
With a wince, the young woman turned to me. "This is going to sting. Sorry." She splashed some of the liquid on the cut across my chest. Using a shirt to catch it all.
Clenching my fists down on the armrests, I tried to block out the pain. Keep myself from sending a fist into her face.
I concentrated on the room. Searching for the source of the voice. Speakers lined the corners of the ceiling.
As if reading my mind, the young woman said, "Don't worry about Eve. She's harm – hmmm… she's very helpful?"
She went back to the screen. Watching the video that played on a loop. With a nod, she attempted the first stitch. Trying to work through her shaking hands. Then checking the screen for how to tie a knot.
"I'm so sorry you got caught up in this mess. Buddy. I'm so sorry."
She broke down into blabbering apologies. Her words blending into each other. Turning incoherent.
But she trudged on. Each stitch she made was faster than the last. As more time passed, the more snarls of frustration escaped her. The harder her hands shook. She tried to steady them against me. Resting softly against my skin. It worked long enough to push the needle through each time.
Somehow this was gentler than treatments I do remember. Given the inexperience and all.
The blood slicked scissors slipped from her fingers. I managed to catch it this time. Before it dropped onto one of us. Sparing her shaking hands, I snipped the last thread.
With a grateful smile, she collapsed. Onto the floor. With a resounding thud. Out cold.
"Would be great if you tossed her onto a bed, Mr. Barnes."
"You know me…."
Not good.
Opposite of good.
Extremely bad.
This voice from the speakers, she knew too much.
Panic choked my breathing. I quickly grabbed my shirt. Tenderly pulling it over my head. Careful not to rip the stitches.
I wanted nothing more than to run for it. But the tracker. They'd find me.
I was stuck.
Then there was the young woman. Lying there on her side. Hands covered in blood. My blood. The blood on her chin was already caking. The blood of the giant she bit. It was far from a pleasant sight. Nightmarish.
"…I honestly have no idea if she knows who you are. I wouldn't be surprised if she does. Then again, the girl can be quite slow at times. Real slow… and the beard hides quite a bit."
"Are you a ghost?"
Laughter rumbled through the house. "That would be so much fun. The things I would do as a ghost. But sadly, no, I'm not. Or maybe I am, just a tiny bit. You can think of me as an A.I. of sorts. I, for the most part, take care of the Ayers family."
'What's an A.I?'
It was something that the young woman relied on. Something to get her through this night.
"The cops…" I started. Before losing my words.
"Not going to call them. Val wouldn't either. Neither of us wants to involve them. That would involve bad press. Besides, calling the cops on you, that's no proper way to thank you, Mr. Barnes."
'Who the hell are these people?'
It's only gotten more confusing. Ever since the young woman showed up with fancy hair. Normalcy was thrown straight out the window.
Should have known. No one would interact with me. Not without ulterior motives.
"As for that arm of yours, I suspect that it's been damaged?" the voice prompted.
I gave a small nod. Willing myself not to book it through the ridiculously large window behind me.
Being trapped was the last thing I wanted. But here I was. The bit of freedom I thought I earned… it wasn't even of my own making. I didn't even realize a thing. Until it was too late.
"It'll take some time to gather everything, but I will have the tracker removed and the cybernetic arm repaired. In the meanwhile, please stay in the house. You're safe in here within about three feet of distance from the doors. Would be best if the neighbors never spotted you, but feel free to make yourself at home."
With a heavy sigh, I had to accept the situation.
This or Hydra.
For now, Hydra's the one I want nothing to do with. I knew that much.
I just hoped I wasn't trading one handler for another.
I stepped to the young woman. Hauling her onto the large bed. "Is there ice here?"
"Please follow the lights, Mr. Barnes."
The hallway lights dimmed. Except the one outside of the room door. When I walked up to it, the next one grew brighter. The one I was under dimmed.
Once I was in the kitchen, the freezer opened.
A shiver raced up my spine. This was all unsettling.
This house had to be haunted. The voice was a ghost. A.I. had to be another word for ghost.
Warily, I reached inside. Grabbed the tray of ice. The cold air made my skin crawl.
I tried to shake the sensation off. Still couldn't in the time it took to grab the roll of paper towels.
Everything was unsettling. Especially this house. With that voice.
"Why me?" I couldn't help but ask. My voice barely worked.
Silence hung in the air.
I made my way back to the master bedroom. Knelt on the floor with the kit. Pulled off the young woman's sandal. Wrapped her swollen ankle with the ice.
Next was to clean off some of the blood. Wiped down her hands and face. Poured some water into her mouth. Being mindful not to drown her. Before turning her head to have it spill out onto a paper towel.
"I couldn't protect her," whispered the A.I. ghost. Sounding so small.
None of the grandness of when she first spoke. A voice that filled the house. This admission though. It only came from one speaker. The one closest to me.
"All the scenarios I ran, I couldn't protect her. Val was still taken. There was no move I could make to change that outcome.
"But then you were able to surprise me…. With how wired the world is, that rarely happens. At least not in this sense…. And I was desperate…. So I led you to Fuller, who is an actual high ranking member of Hydra. I wouldn't waste your time, Mr. Barnes. You're a variable I couldn't completely predict. I could only hope you were around when it happened, and that you'd help her. Even surprised me when nobody died tonight."
'I didn't kill them.'
It was an utter relief.
To know that there wasn't more blood on my hands. They're alive.
But then…. Why would anybody count on me to save another? Why would anybody trust me? Why would anybody believe in me?
I was a weapon.
Weapons kill.
"Thank you, Mr. Barnes, for saving Valeriy."
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"Good morning, Mr. Barnes."
The A.I. ghost had been silent for most of the night. She stayed wordless through dawn. Even a good portion of the morning.
That was until my stomach broke the silence with a grumble.
I could only clench my jaw in frustration. Trading people watching my every move for a ghost. Who was likely doing the same. A ghost who knew far too much.
For the first time in hours, I moved. Turning away from the window. But staying in the safe corner. Out of sight from the outside world. There hadn't been any movements in the darkness. Only neighbors going about their morning routines.
I couldn't sleep. Too much of a risk.
What if I ended up killing the young woman I tried to save?
"I haven't figured out how to cook in this house. I'll need your hands if you want some breakfast."
In a haze, I found myself in the bathroom. Avoiding my reflection. Cleaning up automatically. Quick and efficient.
They were never patient. Take too long, and there'd be a hose.
The fridge was open by the time I entered the kitchen. There wasn't much in it. Except for bottles. Mostly sauces. A dizzying array. And alcohol too. Balanced precariously between the bottles was bread. A full loaf.
A creak sounded from behind the fridge door.
Reflexively, I peered around. Prepared for anything.
Another appliance door was now open. Something that looked like a miniature oven.
"How would you like your toast, Mr. Barnes?"
Cautiously, I threw three slices inside. Afraid. I dare not touch it. And when I stepped back. It closed. All on its own.
"Oh relax. I wouldn't close it on you. I'm not so careless. Though I must admit, my people forgot to restock the fridge in their rush. I'll have more food delivered by nightfall. If there is anything you'd like, please let me know. Unless it's something that melts. Makes keeping you two hidden a little difficult."
Her chuckles echoed through the house.
"No. There won't be any visitors."
'How did she –?! Is she in my head!?'
"The goal is to keep the two of you completely off anybody's radar. That includes my own people. The only ones who know you're here is Val and myself. I can't risk any careless leaks."
"You've done this before." At least one of them had gone south from a leak.
"The Ayers keep me busy. Privacy is a top priority."
"The kidnapping. Last night. She mentioned… about it happening again."
"And it won't be the last. Oops. I do believe I've spoken too much on this matter. You should talk to Val if you want answers. Though I doubt she knows anything. Your toast is ready, Mr. Barnes. There's butter and jam in the fridge." With those words, the miniature oven appliance door, the fridge door and a drawer from the counter opened.
'This house is haunted.'
Instead of running, I grabbed a knife and the strawberry jam. Had to move quickly. Still couldn't trust her not to slam the door on me.
"…How does she like her toast?"
The bread slices were toasted to a golden brown. Not a single char.
"Soaked in an unhealthy amount of butter with a side of ketchup…. But it doesn't matter. She's not going to eat."
I knew it wasn't one of those sandwiches….
"Nothing to do with you making the toast. She loves butter. Even caught her eating a stick of it as a child. She'd eat that. But she's not going to eat today."
Something was off.
There was also the fact that the young woman hadn't moved. I didn't hear a thing through the night.
"If she starves to death, you're not going to help me."
"Depends on how I'm feeling. Not going to throw you to the wolves if you're worried about that. But you're correct, Mr. Barnes. I wouldn't have much of a reason to do a thing for you if Val winds up dead. There's apple juice in the pantry."
A nearby door opened.
"It's the little boxes with a picture of an apple. They came after your time…. I also doubt those bastards would be handing you juice boxes of all things. I'll have water delivered as well. My people took it all… and alcohol isn't exactly the most hydrating choice."
I shifted uneasily and grabbed a couple of the boxes.
This A.I. ghost was grating on my nerves. A deep breath barely helped my instincts. I just wanted to race out of the house. Never look back. But deep inside, I knew. I should have known. Hydra would have kept a tight leash around my neck.
"Am I…?"
"You're safe here, Mr. Barnes. Definitely safer than having you wander about. I have much at my disposal. Keeping you off the radar does not conflict with any of my commands."
The young woman wasn't where I left her. Not on the bed. The blanket was a crumpled pile at the foot. She was nowhere in the master bedroom.
'Was she taken?'
"She's… she's in the closet."
The A.I. ghost had to be in my head.
The door was opened. Just a crack. The light inside was barely lit. A soft muttering drifted out when I was close enough.
Cautiously, I pushed open the closest with a foot. There wasn't much she could do to me. But there was a lot I could do. On reflex. And she'd end up dead.
It wasn't obvious immediately. Where she was. Tucked up behind a bunch of hung shirts. A curled up ball. Rocking back and forth. Mumbling something I couldn't understand. She didn't even react to the change in her environment.
"Hey," I called out. Trying not to scare her.
No reaction. Not even a pause or a flinch.
I moved the shirts out of the way. Waved a hand in front of her face.
Again, nothing.
"Leave her be. She'll come to eventually."
I could only stare out the doorway. Searching for my words. Wondering if I should say them.
But the A.I. ghost spoke up again. "She gets a bit catatonic over certain things. She'll be fine…. I wouldn't try to move her. She's bitten a couple of people in this state."
"…." After last night, I wouldn't doubt it. Nor would I want to have my remaining limbs anywhere near her teeth.
Kneeling, I placed the plates between us. Munching on my strawberry jam covered toast.
Part of me hoped that she'd snap out of it on her own. She'd exhaust herself at this rate.
My head hurt. Too many things rattling up in there. All the information. The paranoia. I was still being used. Oddly enough, I wasn't a tool of death here.
The A.I. ghost wasn't helping. And who was this young woman in front of me?
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"Mission report."
"Your target, level 8. Do what you have to. I want confirmed death in 24 hours."
"Mission report."
"Stop."
"The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. Two targets, level 6. They already cost me Zola. I want confirmed death in 10 hou –"
"Mission report."
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
"Mission report. Now."
"Mr. Barnes. You're –"
"I have a mission for you. Sanction and extract. No witnesses."
"Mr. Barnes! You're not –!"
"SHUT UP!" I screamed. Clutching my head. Trying to block out the voices with my hands.
Even if they were inside my head.
"Honestly, Mr. Barnes."
Maybe not all of them were in my head. There was the A.I. ghost.
"You need sleep. It's been three days. Rather sure you weren't sleeping much before you got here either. You've started hallucinating."
Shakily, I rose to my feet. Water. I needed water. Stumbled into the railing. Fell the last few steps. The pantry door was already opened. Desperately, I tore out the bottled water from the plastic wrap. Downed it in seconds.
"Mr. Barnes, you need sleep."
"I can't…."
"It's not like you'd have a choice sooner or later. I'd give you another day, maximum. You'll be sleeping whether you like it or not."
"I can't go to sleep."
There was a sigh that echoed through the house. "And why not?"
"…I don't want to kill anymore," I whispered. Wanting to run from it all. Hide from what I've become.
"You're talking about the man in the alleyway…."
"How did you…?"
"You're very difficult to keep track of, but I've managed. Cleaned up the mess as well. Don't fret about it, Mr. Barnes."
"I killed a man!"
"Can't argue with that. That man's most definitely dead. Oh, it's slipped my mind, but there's an electric shaver under your sink by the first aid kit. Watching you scratch at that beard of yours is driving me insane. The head's already set up for a trim. If you're all clean cut, people will figure out you're Barnes from a mile away."
I might as well check on the young woman. Who was still in the closet. But she started to move within the master bedroom area.
For a short moment. Even ate a total of two bites yesterday. Tricked her when she tried to bite into my side. At least she was drinking. Not much though.
My feet felt like lead. Heavy as weights whenever I tried to take a step. My eyes were exhausted. So tired. I wanted to sleep. But I couldn't risk it.
"Why didn't you tell me she's passed out?"
Untangling her from the odd position she's fallen in. I tucked her back into fort of pillows and blankets.
It was the only real reaction I got out of her. When I noticed she had moved the bedding. I gathered the rest from the other rooms. She rolled herself into a cocoon.
"Cause she's not one to suddenly wake up and hunt down a Hydra Agent to punch to death. Then pass out next to him."
"What?"
"You didn't know who you killed?"
"I didn't…. What about the time in April?" After I visited the exhibit. Before I came to at the abandoned bank. "…There were three bodies."
The A.I. ghost went silent and not much else I could do here. The young woman needed sleep.
Exiting, I headed back into the bathroom I'd been using. As the A.I ghost had said. There was an odd contraption.
I grabbed it and found it slightly familiar. Pushing up a switch on the side, it buzzed to life. With a shrug, I got to work trimming the itchy beard.
She wasn't wrong there. It was itchy.
I made sure to keep my eyes away from the mirror. I didn't want to see the person looking back at me. Whoever that was.
"I can't find the bodies you mentioned. I lost you those days."
If she lost me then…. "How did you find me?" The words escaped before I could stop them.
I doubt she would answer. They never answered.
"I have measures in place and I'm not Hydra or the remnants of SHIELD. I don't have to sort through the false leads I put out, nor do I have to deal with the internal mayhem they're going through."
"You could have Hydra Agents among your own."
Maybe she could save themselves. If they had some warning. They're in danger. Ever since I crossed paths with them.
"There has been. They've been dealt with accordingly as they pop up. There were other parties as well, but mostly from Hydra…. Annoying little buggers. Though I thought of them akin to dandelions. They get everywhere.
"Oh well. Have to protect the Ayers name. That is my job, and I'm the best there is. Now, I believe I've found a solution in regards to sleep. I'll wake you if your nightmares start. Inside the night table is a bracelet. Wear it, and I'll be able to tell when the nightmare begins. So go to sleep already. I rather not have two passed out people in this house."
It felt like I was back there. In those windowless rooms. Always watched. Nothing private to myself.
"Fret not. You can remove it anytime. Might even help wake you if you're a particularly heavy sleeper. I don't know what triggers your instincts to kill, but stressing out your body isn't going to win you any favors, Mr. Barnes."
Wordlessly, I put on the bracelet. It was the same as the one the young woman wore.
The moment my head hit the pillow, I was out.
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. ** .
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Steadily the numbers counted down. Following the flow of seconds. There wasn't much to do. Besides stare at the timer. Sitting on the kitchen counter.
Soup was in the microwave. Bread in the oven toaster. As the A.I. ghost had called it. A tray to my right was set up for a meal in bed.
I could hear the shower running upstairs. The young woman was finally awake. According to Eve. Somewhat functional compared to the last few days.
"Huh… Mr. Barnes?"
"What is it?"
My muscles tensed up. Ready for Hydra to come through the windows. I hopped onto my feet. Then I heard the shower stop. A clattering of objects bouncing off tiles.
"Would you mind getting to Val before she decides to break her neck with the stairs?"
"Buddy!?" I heard the young woman yell from beyond the room. "Shirt off! I need to check if there's an infection! Did any of the stitches ri – shiiiit!" The fast speaking was broken with a thud.
For some reason or another, my arms listened to the order. Removing my shirt. The shirt blinded me for a moment. Even restrained me a tad. A moment that almost had me jumping out of my skin.
A couple fingertips brushed against my chest. Soft and gentle. So very foreign. But yet, almost familiar.
"…Where the hell is the cut? Eve! I thought you said I was out for five days."
The young woman's face was seven centimeters away from my skin. Brows furrowed in confusion. An open first aid kit tucked under her arm. The bottle of alcohol rub in one hand. Hair dripping with water. Still favoring her right leg.
"You were out for five days."
A shiver raced down my spine. Those fingers glided across the muscle. Her lips twisted into a frown. A nail scraped at my skin. The touch so careful. Feather light.
"It's not makeup. It's… it's gone. Am I…? Am I going fucking insane? There's not even trace of it. I swear…. That wasn't a dream, right? I mean, we're in the bloody safe house…. What?"
"It healed a couple days ago."
In all likelihood, there were cameras in the bathroom…. It's the only explanation to the A.I. ghost knowledge. There were speakers in there.
How did one live so watched…? Then again, I never did go unnoticed. As I thought I did. From 65 days ago, nothing's changed. Always watched. But so was this young woman in front of me.
"Wow…. I wish I could heal like that."
Her ankle would have been healed by now if she did. She wouldn't be wobbling on a leg.
"You don't," I corrected.
I was a weapon.
A broken weapon was useless. All this was a result of experiments. To make a better machine of death.
I touched her elbow. To stabilize the young woman.
Her head jerked up. Gray eyes scanning my face.
My hat. My beard. They weren't there.
I backed away from her.
The metal arm was exposed. That linked me to a terrorist. Splattered all over the news.
Those eyes widened in recognition.
My heart thumped against my ribs.
Scared.
"Oh shit…"
She knew.
"You're Bucky Barnes…" she breathed the unexpected name that cut right through me.
Shouldn't the terrorist be at the forefront?
"Hang on… aren't you like… a hundred?"
"97. He'd be 97 years old right now."
"You look about… less than 30?"
Her attention dropped to the metal arm.
I quickly pulled on my shirt. I wanted to crawl into a hole. Never come out again.
"Your arm… it's… Where have I seen it recently…? The news…?" And with the softest of whispers, "The Winter Soldier…."
Before she could run for the phone or even move, I grabbed onto her arms. But she didn't struggle against me. Instead, her head collided with my chest. Her voice yelling:
"What the flying fuck!? Eve!"
The cupboard door had swung open. On its own. Slammed right into the back of her head. With an audible thunk.
She rubbed the likely tender spot gingerly. With a giant pout on her face. A hand rested on me. Using me to stabilize her wobbling.
"You just noticed?! How are you so damn slow, Valeriy!? You're better at piecing things together than this! I feed the news every morning. I made sure to keep you informed of current events."
"Give a girl a break, Eve. I'm running on almost nothing. My brain is like sludge, and now it's pounding no thanks to your head whack."
She didn't even try to shake off my hands. Instead, she grabbed me back. With shaking hands anytime she attempted to use strength. Clutching just above my elbows. Trying to find her footing.
She was weak. Very weak. There was nothing she could do. Nothing to save herself.
Not from me.
Snap the neck. Target incapacitated.
Grab knife. Slice the jugular. Target incapacitated.
Smash head into the counter. Target incapacitated.
"Are you going to eat that?" she asked. Finger pointing at the toast in the toaster oven.
"No," I replied. Pulling her backwards to the dining table.
She obediently hopped along. Careful with the once dislocated ankle. Not an inkling of caution in her expression. As if I wasn't a danger to her.
It wasn't just me. The people after me…. They were far more dangerous.
"Can I have it?"
"It's for you…. Are you going to call the cops?" I had to ask.
I couldn't take it anymore. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. To be dragged back into darkness. Back to them.
"What?" Her brow rose in question. She fell into a chair. Rather ungracefully. "And get my ass disowned for dragging the family name through the mud again? No thanks, Buddy. Or Bucky? Sergeant…? Barnes…?"
"Sergeant Barnes," echoed in my head. Thick Swiss accent.
"Umm… okay, maybe not that? What do I call you?"
I shrugged. Returning to the kitchen to pick up her food. To create some distance. Buy some time to calm down. All was too much for my head.
It was so odd to be around a person. Somebody who knew that I was the Winter Soldier. Yet be so at ease. As if we were sitting on the bench. Eating sandwiches.
"What do you want to be called?"
"…I don't know."
I placed the food in front of her.
She grinned up at me. "Thanks." She blew at the soup. Taking her time to tear the bread carefully. Dunking it. "How does… Bucky sound to you?"
A familiar face with a pair of bright blue eyes stared at me. Before fading into the dark corners of my mind. And there were so many dark corners.
"James?" she tried. Her good foot kicked out a chair. "Sit."
"…Bucky," I repeated softly. Sitting down. Bucky sounded familiar. "The man on the Helicarrier called me that…. Bucky…. The exhibit…. That's… That's not me. I'm not a hero! I'm not him! I'm not –! I'm – I'm not…."
"Shhhhh," the young woman hushed. "Take a few breaths with me, 'kay?" Her voice lost its carefree tone.
I tore my fingers out of her hands. The touch too foreign to me. Too soft. Too warm. Too human.
I backed myself into a corner. I needed to get away. But I couldn't leave the house. They'd find me.
I was going to hurt her.
"I'm a weapon! You should turn me in! I've killed so many! I'm a… I'm a weapon…." My knees gave out on me. "A broken weapon…."
Maybe if I could press hard enough into this corner, I could disappear. Sink through the walls.
My head hurt.
The metal arm hurt.
At the chair scraping across the floor tiles, my eyes homed in on the gray ones. The young woman approached me. Using a chair as a crutch.
"I'm not going to turn you in." Her back slammed against the wall behind me. With a thud. She slid to the ground. A groan of discomfort escaping her. "Ow…. So the wall and floor is harder than I thought…."
She wasn't cornering me. There's an open path. I could easily run off. Without having to shove her away. Hurting the young woman.
"It sounds like you don't remember much… about yourself…."
"I don't remember anything before the Helicarrier…. Most days it's a thick fog. I feel that there's something there… but it's like trying to grasp water. I have no idea who I was before they….
"They did something to me. To my head… It's like they're still inside. Telling me what to do. I lose myself sometimes…. I wake up about a day later….
"I remember… I remember killing people…. Going to places…. I even returned to the place they kept me…. At least it was abandoned…. They didn't get me…. I don't want to return to them….
"I don't want to kill anymore…."
Silence. Not a word from her.
I spilled too much.
It just broke.
The dam just broke.
I wanted it out of me. Someone to know. So I wasn't alone. But this had to be too much.
"I guess you're going to have to find yourself again, huh?" She spoke softly. Head tilting back against the wall. Eyes focused on the ceiling.
"I'm not him…. Not anymore. Not for a long time now. That man in the exhibit… he… he doesn't exist anymore. I'm… a broken weapon…. The information I have…. They don't fit together. I can't make sense of any of it. I'm just full of holes…."
"Who said you have to be the person you were before… 1944?" she counted. "The broken pieces… take the ones you do have, the ones you'll find, the ones you'll make and build something… build someone, who you could live with."
"Someone who I could live with…?" I repeated. Attempting to understand even a fraction of the words she had spoken.
She nodded. Faced me. Smiled softly. Her hand grabbed onto mine again. "An insane amount of shit must have happened to you between your supposed death and now."
Her fingers squeezed down on mine. Eyes falling to the left of me. To the arm. To the weapon. Only for a brief second.
"Hell, the world changed a shit ton as well. Even if you had all the shards and you manage to piece them together, it's a shattered mirror. It's not going to reflect the same image. Would look more like Picasso. You wouldn't be the same person. You could pretend, and to be honest, that's suffocating. You shouldn't be the same…. Not after all that."
I tried to wrap my head around those words. Repeating them. Just trying to understand.
That I didn't have to be the same.
That I didn't have to be a hero.
That I didn't have to be a weapon.
But then…
"What will I be?"
She took a deep breath. Letting her legs slip to straighten out. Watching her toes wiggling a few times before she finally spoke:
"Not my place to say. I can't answer that for you. Nobody can…. It's up to you, who you want to be. People may push you one way or another, but in the end, it's your choice which step you take.
"There'll be parts that we hate in ourselves, and they'll always be in us somewhere. But that doesn't mean they always have to show. Maybe if pieced together with something else, it'll become different. It's stupidly difficult… but it's possible." Her face tilted my way. Her smile so warm. "You have a friend in me. You're not alone."
"Why…? Why are you willing to…?"
She shrugged. "Maybe it's more for myself than for you. A dear friend helped me when I lost myself. I could barely feign the person I was. Then he came into my life and a lot changed….
"I'm still working on being someone I can live with. But at least I don't want to punch the person I see in the mirror anymore."
She forced a laugh out.
"The person I was a few years ago, I'd have honestly walked right past you. Pretend I didn't see anything. Or hear anything. Kicked myself for being such a coward…. And I wouldn't be able to face him again if I didn't at least offer a hand."
Again, silence fell between us.
Again, I mulled over her words.
Again, I started to feel overwhelmed.
My head felt like a hot poker was trying to split it in half. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted it to be over.
"Hey, Eve. Does my parents know about him?" the young woman asked out of the blue.
"Nope. Neither will I be informing them."
"Good. Keep it that way. So long as they don't find out about you, Bu – ummm… Buddy? You're welcome to stick around. My parents would turn you in in a heartbeat. So let's just keep them out of the loop on this minor detail."
"You should turn me in…" I muttered.
"Yeah, no. That's a bad idea. Wouldn't be surprised if the 'Good Guys' end up using you as, in your words, a weapon to do their own dirty work. You don't seem like the ruthless killer the media has painted you as. And why the hell would I turn in a friend? Especially after you sav – Eve." She looked away from me. Anger leaking into her voice. "Please tell me you didn't drag him into this mess!"
"Then I won't say a word."
"Eve! Oh god… Eve, why?! You know how my family – !" She sighed heavily. Her attention turning back to me. "I'm so sorry. She shouldn't have… I'm so sorry. I… I'm so sorry, Bu-Buddy. Is there anything, anything, I can do to make this up to you? Anything?" Her smile tired and strained.
"I…" I didn't know what to say.
I didn't even know why she wasn't pelting me with pots and pans. For being the Winter Soldier. Instead, she was apologizing. To me. For some reason beyond my comprehension.
"You'll be fixing his arm."
The young woman's eyes widened. True fear burrowing into them.
'Finally,' I couldn't help but think. Something that made sense.
"Are you insane, Eve?! We can't take him to Gramps! Mother would have my fucking head on a bloody pike before we even land."
"I swore I said that you'd be the one fixing his arm."
"…Am I hearing you wrong again…? I thought you said that I'll be the one fixing his arm… What do you mean I'll be fixing his arm?! Who do you think I am?! Gramps?!"
"I watched you grow up. Practically raised you myself. It'll be fine. I'll be your back up if you don't understand anything."
She sighed heavily, burrowing her face into her elbow that rested on her good knee. "Okay. You saved me. I can do this. Sure. Yeah. Okay. I can do this. Hahaha. Who am I fucking kidding…." Her eyes set on mine. The side of her face resting on her arm. "I sure hope you're patient. 'Cause I'm out of my depth here."
"Don't listen to her. She'll be able to get the job done. Worst comes to worst, I'll be the brains and she'll be the hands."
Unease coiled in my gut. Left me utterly unsure of this deal we had. Not after the odd exchange between the two. I couldn't risk having it damaged. Not more than it already was.
"Hey, it'll be okay," the young woman offered softly. "One way or another. It'll be fixed. It's the least we can do for dragging you into our mess. Can't have you constantly being shocked by it, can we? And here I thought it was some kind of chronic pain."
"It'd be advantageous if the arm worked again…" I noted.
Her hand twitched in mine. The moment I realized I'd been strangling it, I quickly released it.
"Sorry." I curled further into the corner. Away from her. As much as my mind told me of all the ways to kill the young woman. I didn't want to hurt her.
"Huh? What are you apologizing for? I should be the one saying sorry. You got dragged into my stupid mess."
"…Your hand… I was hurting you."
She looked down. Examining her left hand. It still had tremors. She had difficulties just turning it palm up. She gave a soft laugh. Letting her head fall back onto the wall.
"Between the bum leg and trying to get my brain to function, you weren't hurting me…. I can't stop the shaking. I just need to take care of myself for a bit before my body starts running properly." She pushed off the floor. Using the chair to help her up. "I'm sure you have a bunch of questions. I do too. But I need a day to get my brain working again, so you're going to have to wait a bit longer. Sorry."
I perked up at her words. "I'm allowed to ask questions?"
A pause of blankness crossed her face. For a second. As she stared at me. Before a beaming grin broke through. Reassuring. Sloppy and tired. But assuring. She nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah, of course you are, Buddy. Ask anything you want. But today you're going to get slow ass answers from me. If I don't have the answers, we can find them together, 'kay?"
I nodded. Watching her finish her meal.
There was so much I wanted to ask. But for now, she needed food. And I was relieved.
The friendship she spoke of. It didn't come to be because she wanted something from me. She still saw me as a friend. Even after she found out who I was.
I wasn't alone.
I didn't have to be alone.
.
. ** .
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