Disclaimer: I own nothing Captain America-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking Marvel to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: Here's Anna and Bucky's first day out! Wow, that sounded way too much like a TV special or something. Anyway, please enjoy, and I hope people will review. Thanks!

Chapter 10: Out and About:

Almost immediately after Bucky suggested it, Anna had a bad feeling about taking him out in public.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him to try and be on his best behavior –it was that she didn't trust other people to be on theirs. After all, people were people, and she wasn't sure that Bucky would be able to really handle being out there.

'Was this how Adena felt, when it came to helping Captain America?' she wondered as she struggled to get to sleep that night. 'If so, how the hell did she manage to hold herself together?'

Then again, Adena tended to have a positive energy around her, and more patience than Anna did.

But she had figured that Bucky had earned some time outside, and as long as they weren't out too long, it shouldn't be too bad –or so she hoped.

The day of their outing dawned with a faint layering of clouds, but the promise of a pleasant day with no forecast of rain.

After an hour of agonizing over her own outfit, Anna had decided to play it subtle and casual: black jeans, black ballet flat shoes, a pale blue shirt, and a black jean jacket. It was a lot like what Natasha Romanoff had worn when they'd first met, but Anna had to admit that it was rather fashionable and cute, so why not wear it?

Once she was ready, she headed down to the front door, ready to analyze whatever disguise Bucky had come up with, and fully prepared to reject whatever ideas or items she had to.

To her surprise, he had chosen rather well. Blue jeans, a blue jean jacket over a grey shirt, and black sneakers. For his 'disguise,' he'd chosen some sunglasses and a baseball cap, while his hair was pulled into a somewhat messy ponytail and black leather gloves donned both his hands. He looked like a perfectly normal guy, at least to her eyes.

She nodded in approval. "Nice," she complimented him, causing him to smile a little. "I like it."

Anna reached for her left side, where her purse dangled. After retrieving the house key (which she had discovered in a drawer by her bed, her first night there), she asked, "So, where do you want to go? A coffee shop, or someplace small for a quick breakfast?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Anywhere is fine. You pick."

Her stomach rumbled a little, demanding to be fed immediately. Breakfast it was, then.

As excited as he was to be going outside, Bucky couldn't hold back a wave of anxiety. Part of him was imagining everything possible that could go wrong, as well as dreading that Phil Coulson was going to find out and push Anna for this venture of his.

The mixture of fear and worry inside his chest became a brick that quickly dropped into his stomach on their walk down from the porch to the street. As his feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk, his old instincts took over; his eyes immediately glanced around as his senses became alert for anyone who might intercept them. Back in the safety and security of the house, he had been excited about leaving –now, out in the open, he was concerned about something happening.

His alertness and emotions did not fade as they moved down the block, Bucky purposely avoiding other people, his nerves badly shaken as he walked. Most of the people he passed hardly noticed him, but the fear that they would still lingered. He especially feared being discovered by his enemies.

A lump of fear rose up in his throat, nearly choking him. He'd never been afraid, working for HYDRA –he'd been their Fist, their most dangerous assassin, and had never feared being killed. He had been sure of his skills, sure that he would succeed, and he had never failed them, except at the very end. Now he was frightened that they would find him and drag him back, kicking and screaming.

Five minutes into their walk, as they reached their first curb and stopped to look for cars so that they could cross, Bucky became acutely aware of how unusually close he was staying to Anna's side. Almost against his will, his hand drifted towards hers, his fingers slipping into her palm. The solid, soft warmth of her hand steadied him a little, and he couldn't resist squeezing her fingers a little to reassure himself and steady his racing heart.

Rather that pull away, Anna kept her hand in his, and returned the squeeze with a reassuring one of her own. His nerves steadied further, allowing a bit more confidence to trickle to the surface.

It took a little while, but eventually, when no one had come charging up to demand that they return to the house, or to abduct them, Bucky allowed himself to relax, just a little. He took in the scent of green grass and trees, of burnt gasoline from running lawnmowers and passing cars, and the smell of water in the gutters from an errant yard sprinkler.

The smell of food cooking in some of the houses they passed brought about a few stray wisps of memory from his life in Brooklyn, when he and Steve had played around the apartment building as kids. He vaguely remembered smelling cooking tomatoes, meats being fried or roasted, bread, rice, spices, and many other things wafting through the neighborhood at all hours of the day, as well as half a dozen foreign languages being yelled as children of different ethnicities were called in to eat.

Those fond memories were replaced by ones from his time with HYDRA, where he had been forced to hide in decrepit buildings, tucked in the corners of dark, dank neighborhoods that had seen much better days. He remembered poor children in the streets outside, playing or begging for people to give them something, anything, to help their families.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. Anna gave him a questioning look, but said nothing. She would no doubt ask about it later, when they were back at the house. For now, she would leave him be.

That was alright; he knew that if he kept things bottled up for too long, they would come out eventually. Besides, he wanted to tell her –she liked hearing about him making progress with his memories, and he liked seeing how pleased she was when his efforts succeeded.

A stray bit of breeze brought the scent of baking bread and sweet pastries to his nose, drawing his attention.

A childhood memory suddenly surged in his mind. In it, he saw his mother, smiling down at him as they entered a bakery. The scents of cookies and bread filled the air, and as he struggled to look over the edge of the counter, he smiled excitedly as she ordered a loaf of bread for their dinner, and some cookies for a treat.

"We'll take them when we visit the Rogers' tonight," she said as the baker's wife handed him a cookie with a wink and a smile.

Then he was back in the present, his head tilted in the direction of the smell, his body quickly moving towards it. Anna laughed as he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her along as he rushed to get inside and see where the smell was coming from.

In minutes, they were in a café, the place full of the tantalizing scents of baking dough, sugar, frosting, chocolate, and glazed fruits. It appeared that the morning rush was over, but there were still almost a dozen people inside, either sitting and eating their breakfast, or ordering something to take with them to their jobs. Bucky almost felt sorry for the young people behind the counter, who already looked tired and frazzled.

"Breakfast first, then pastries," Anna whispered, nodding towards the display case. "You can pick anything you want, but we'll eat before we get anything fancy. Get yourself something to drink, then I'll order the food."

Now, Bucky had been trying to prepare himself for this moment since he'd gone to bed the previous night. Under HYDRA, he had been denied the ability to choose anything –the exception had been, on occasion, which weapon he was to use on his targets. Everything else had been planned and decided for him.

In his new living conditions, he was thrilled at being able to choose his own food. During those first few days at the house, he'd had his first real freedom in choosing what to put in his body. It had been exciting, but overwhelming: it took him nearly thirty minutes of searching through the kitchen to see what they had to eat, and another thirty of weighing his options.

And since his cooking skills were below even the most basic, when he'd tried making some of the pre-packaged food, he had burned some of it. Not that it had mattered, of course –it was food of his choosing, and had been some of the best meals he could remember. Food was better with Anna doing the cooking, but those first few meals would always stay in his mind.

Stepping up to the glass display case, he removed his sunglasses and stared at the eatable works of art, his eyes drinking them in as he read the cards describing each one. The ruby red of the strawberry tarts caught his eye, as did the chocolate cream puffs and more exotic fruit tarts, which looked like jewelry in the light of the case. There were other pastries, too; these were far more elegant and tempting, both in looks and in the descriptions on their cards.

"Breakfast first," Anna reminded him, a hint of warning in her voice. "You can get more than one thing, though not more than three."

Sighing, Bucky studied the menu and its descriptions before deciding on a large latte as his beverage of choice. They only had regular coffee at the house, and he wanted to see all the new ways people could brew it. It had to be better than the burned sludge HYDRA gave to him and called 'coffee.'

Once he was finished, Anna stepped up to order a cup of peppermint hot cocoa and some freshly toasted bagels for them to eat there for breakfast. While Anna ordered a side of salmon cream cheese, and another of sour-cream-and-onion, Bucky watched eagerly as the employee brought the hot items out of the toaster oven.

Their breakfast and drinks in hand, the two of them sat at a corner table and began to eat. Bucky couldn't remember ever having a bagel, but he thought them tasty, especially with the different cream cheeses on them. Anna looked amused as he ate not only his bagel, but also part of hers, trying each kind of topping on them.

By the time he had finished, Bucky had decided to get two chocolate pastries, a strawberry tart, and a chocolate cream puff (which happened to be the size of his fist). There were several others that he wanted to get, but not being able to this time would give him the excuse to come back later.

Anna, meanwhile, picked out a couple fruit tarts, and a box of something she called 'French macaroons,' which she claimed were marvelous. "You can try some and let me know what you think," she said as she handed her debit card to the cashier.

As they waited for the employees to box their orders, Bucky decided to look into the case again, memorizing everything in it for any possible future visits. If he could persuade Anna to come back, he wanted to be prepared.

The bell above the door chimed as someone came in, and Bucky would gladly have ignored them, if it hadn't been for what happened next.

He heard the sound of an open hand hitting something, and that was all it took.

Whipping around, Bucky only needed a few seconds to assess the situation. Some idiot was aggressively hitting on Anna, and she did not look happy about it. In fact, she seemed insulted and surprised that this guy had taken it so far.

The lecherous look the guy was giving her, along with the sound of a hand connecting with something covered in cloth, and Bucky knew that the man had slapped Anna's buttocks.

That made Bucky see red.

In one second, all of his HYDRA training came to the surface, along with his desire to put his metal fist through someone's face. He was more than eager to take this man and put him out of Anna's misery.

The familiar sensation of his cold, calm assassin side came over him, and in seconds, he was by Anna's side, his metal hand shooting out to grab the offender by the wrist. The mechanics in his arm began to tighten his grip, ready to snap bone, veins, and muscle with a single application of pressure. He'd done it before –he'd gladly do it again.

Pushing aside his sudden desire to eliminate the ass, Bucky settled for giving him the cold, expressionless look he'd given all of his past victims -it was the last thing they saw, and it always caused them incredible amounts of fear and panic. An effective tool, and one that often proved useful.

In this instance, the man looked angry at Bucky's interference, but at seeing his opponent's blue eyes leveling a look that could make ice seem warm, the other man went from angry to worried. Once Bucky was sure of the other man's attention, he said only four words.

"Don't do that again," he calmly ordered, squeezing the man's wrist to emphasize his point.

The man's worry gave way to anger. But before he could say something that would only take Bucky's anger one step further, Anna was there, a hand reaching out to gently touch the back of his leather clad metal hand.

"It's okay," she whispered, causing him to look at her. "I think he gets the point." Her eyes begged him not to make a scene.

How could he refuse her? It would be easy to deal with this situation, but for her sake, he would hold back. He owed her too much to do otherwise.

Reluctantly, Bucky loosened his grip, letting the man go with nothing more than a bruised wrist. His opponent rubbed his aching hand, gave him one last glare, then swiftly left without a backward glance.

"Uh, sir?" a girl behind the counter squeaked. "Your order is ready."

To keep from scaring her, Bucky took a calming breath and let his anger go –at least temporarily. He firmly reminded himself that there was a punching bag waiting for him at home, and that he could use that as a means of expressing his anger. Now, however, he had to stay calm, both for his sake and Anna's.

When he was sure that he was calm enough, Bucky turned with a slight, polite smile on his face. "Thank you," he quietly said to the girl.

To his surprise, she smiled back. "You know, we've been waiting forever for someone to teach that guy a lesson. I've lost count of how many times he's come in here, harassing the girls who work here and our female customers. I'm glad someone finally stood up to him."

As she nodded to the area behind him, Bucky remembered that he and Anna were far from the only customers in the place. The women in the crowd were nodding, while some of the men seemed either in agreement with them, or jealous that they hadn't been the one to take care of the arrogant jerk, instead of Bucky.

A surge of warmth made Bucky realize he was blushing. "It was nothing," he muttered as Anna took him by the arm with one hand, and the box of pastries with the other.

"Time to head home," she cheerfully declared to the crowd. "Thanks for everything," she said with a nod to the woman behind the counter.

With a final nod to the employees, Bucky led Anna out to the street.

The walk back was a blur, his eyes glazed from anger at the man, as well as hate. How dare he touch Anna in that way! Oh, Bucky knew that morals had changed over the decades, but to actually see someone put his hands on an unwilling woman, especially one who was his friend, was almost too much for him to bear.

Anna was beside him, the pastry box firmly in her hands as she kept a quick pace beside him. That was when Bucky realized that he was moving too fast for her to keep up comfortably with his stride, so he slowed down and gently put his arm around her waist. The gesture was meant to be protective, but also to comfort her in any way he could.

They reached the house in record time, and as soon as the door was safely closed behind them, he watched Anna head for the kitchen with the box. As soon as she was out of sight, he began to remove the gloves that hid his hands, his feet slowly taking him towards the stairs

He didn't get very far, his foot barely touching the bottom step before he heard her returning.

"Bucky?" she called, the concern in her voice stopping him in his tracks. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a moment, wondering if he should ignore her, or answer. As much as he wanted to do the former, he decided otherwise.

"No," he admitted, a deep look of sadness and disappointment on his face. "No, I'm not."

Coming back towards her, he reached out, showing his exposed hands. "I wanted to kill him," he admitted sullenly. "I wanted to kill him for what he did to you."

He swallowed hard. "That means I'm not getting better, am I? I'm still a monster."

"No!" Anna snapped, surprising him. Gentling her voice, she said, "No, you're not a monster. You are human. That anger you felt was something any man would have experienced, if it had happened to someone he cared about. It's normal for people to feel angry when they're in that kind of situation."

As much as he wanted to, Bucky didn't really believe her. "But I wanted to kill him," he said, eyes downcast in shame.

"But you didn't," she said, taking his hands in hers. "You defended me. Not every guy would do that for a girl they've only known for a short time."

She gently squeezed his fingers. "You're my hero."

Bucky looked at her in disbelief. "A hero? I'm not a hero –I'm the one heroes fight against."

"Not anymore," Anna told him firmly. "You're changing. Monsters and villains don't want to change for the better -they want to change the world for their own purposes. You want to be better; you want to do good in the world, and to be good –and you did! You got that man to leave me alone, and you did it without seriously hurting anyone. You restrained yourself when it mattered, and that means you're starting to become the sort of man you want to be."

She made him look at her by letting his right hand go and tilting his head upwards. "We both know you'll never completely be your old self from the 40's, but today, you were that man. I'm very proud of you."

And then, out of the blue, she hugged him.

It had been so long since someone had hugged him, Bucky couldn't really remember the joy and warmth that came with a show of affection. It was wonderful.

They'd stood like that for a few moments, Anna's arms around his neck as the warmth from her body flowed into him. He savored the contact, closing his eyes so that he would remember it always.

"Do you feel better?" she quietly asked, her breath gently tickling his ear.

He nodded, the burden inside him lightening a little. When she pulled back, he reluctantly let her go. As much as he longed to hold her longer, he knew that would be a bad idea. She wanted the hug to end, so he would release her.

Something fluttered inside his heart, and for a moment, he feared that something was wrong with it. But that was ridiculous –the serum kept him in perfect health. There couldn't be anything wrong with him!

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

Shaking his head, he muttered something about wanting to be alone for a while, and fled upstairs, his mind whirling and his stomach twisting from the events of the day.

AN: Review?