The Search for Rebecca Barnes
Here's the second part of the story.
Its been two months since the Winter Soldier disappeared and one month since he found out his identity in the Smithsonian. He also discovered he had a family from his younger sister. While he's not hunting down Hydra agents, and saving his reunion with Steve Rogers for last, he is tracking down his sister, Rebecca Barnes Proctor.
The Winter Soldier crept in the darkness of the night and easily leapt over the gate that surrounded the apartment building. He had tracked down this address under the name of Proctor, and after three dozen searches on the library's computer, he found his sister. A home for the retired senior citizens.
First, earlier this afternoon, he had made a call on a pay phone, using a wallet pick-pocketed earlier. A lady at the front desk answered.
The Soldier had prepared for this, but that didn't mean he didn't feel nervous. Stalking before the assassinating was one thing, like second nature to his profession, but getting in touch with a loved one-especially when he hadn't had any loved ones as the Winter Soldier, not even close-felt like he stepping straight into the abyss. Especially when speaking through a telephone, to another person as if he were an everyday citizen. He will never be an everyday citizen.
"I would like to speak to one of the residents of the home," he finally spoke, trying to keep his tone formal, though it still sounded scratchy with disuse. "Her name is Rebecca Proctor."
"Do you have any kind of relationship with Mrs. Proctor?"
My now-elderly kid sister, whom I'm just remembering. "She's a friend of mine."
"Mrs. Proctor is currently spending the week with her family, but would you care to set up your name for an appointment?"
This was a mistake. There had been a reason he never did stuff like this; it was unprofessional, but neither was it a job he had to get done. This was personal. Either way, he knew the lady wouldn't give him the address of where his sister lived, out of protocol. "No, that won't be necessary. Thank you." He hung up and banged his head in frustration against the telephone machine. His metal arm twitched mechanically under his sleeve and glove as he felt the very strong urge to punch the wires out of this telephone.
"Excuse me, sir, but there's a line," a lady behind him said.
Without a word, he moved away quickly and kept his head down as he walked down the sidewalk. He knew what he had to do, but the task was easier at nighttime. Breaking into an old folks home undetected was certainly easier than any phone call would give him.
He was there later that night, and already he was inside, striding through the hallways, avoiding security like a shadow. His knives and guns were tucked his belt, out of habit like his urge to kill, but he vowed to himself that nobody was going to die tonight. For Rebecca's sake, and for Maisie's. He still had her navy-blue hair tie, which he used to tie his hair back in a loose knot sometimes during the day, but always with his cap on so nobody would recognize him. At least he shaved. Using a sensor he stole from a former-Hydra agent he tracked down last week, he used it to send the security cameras in haywire while walking down the empty hallway, passing rooms that were occupied with sleeping elders. Some were still up, but were too distracted by deafness or illness to notice a dark figure striding down the hallway.
The Soldier was just turning around the corner when he found an elderly man, probably in his mid eighties-younger than the Winter Soldier-standing in front of the office door to the files while leaning on a breathing apparatus. He looked up and spotted the Soldier. "Hey, you!" he croaked in a grumbling tone.
The Winter Soldier froze. His mind was racing. Stupid, stupid, stupid...He should have sensed the man around the corner, heard his breathing apparatus, but he had let his guard down, thinking he was striding in the home care without complications or security. He wasn't even wearing his mask or black eye shadow. Stupid!
The old man squinted at him through the dark shadows. "You don't look like security. You breakin' in, fellah?" He had a Jersey accent, in the middle of Washington D.C.
He could run. But the old man saw him. A witness. He could snap his neck and...No! No more killing innocents. He made a promise. Still, he kept seeing Maisie's glowing face in his mind and suddenly wanted more than anything to see her again. But this old man was in the way. In the way of ever seeing his long-lost family. Just for once. He briefly remembered when Pierce shot his housekeeper because she saw the Winter Soldier in the shadows of his house. The old man didn't seem that scared, so he probably didn't see the Winter Soldier's robotic arm in the dark yet. The elder was definitely nearsighted, but apparently not that nearsighted.
The old man squinted further and then raised his fading brow. "Hey, I know you..."
The Winter Soldier kept silent. He considered making a death threat. If the old man had a heart attack, the death would technically be a natural death, untraceable. If not...he started to reach for the knife at his hip.
"It's Scott Proctor, ain't it?"
His hand froze. What?
"Yeah, Scottie! Becky's grandson. I knew you looked familiar from her pictures, but damn! You really changed! She told me about your addiction. What's it now, heroine? Marihuana? Never mind-what the hell are you doin', breakin' and enterin' into an old folk's home? You hidin' a stash somewhere, son, or are you finally startin' to hear about your grandmother's condition?"
Scott Proctor had to be Maisie's father, the one who left, like her mother had mentioned. His grandnephew. The old man thought he was Rebecca's grandson. Did he really look like him? And worse yet, Maisie's father was a drug addict?
"What, you got nothin' to say?" He pointed at the Soldier. "I ought to report you to the cops, but I'm not going to do that. Becky's lost her husband and her two sons, so there's no reason to tell her I had to put her only grandson in jail. And what about Maisie, eh? That little girl is sweetness itself and she sure as hell doesn't deserve an abandonin' sucker-for-a-father like you! You ought to be thinking of her, not your junk!"
The Winter Soldier was sure he should be insulted, even though he wasn't Scott Proctor and that he equally felt ashamed when hearing about his grandnephew. But he had done far worse without having to store away a single drug and deserved far worse treatment than the lectures of an old man. It was like this darkness ran in the family, he thought bitterly, but he hoped not. So far, Scott seemed to be the only problem, leaving his little daughter for probably getting high somewhere. It was messed up, that a drug addict would leave his child, while a ninety-six year old assassin wished he didn't have to leave her.
Still, he decided to play along. "I think about her all the time," the Soldier said quietly. It was the truth. And he hoped for Maisie's sake it was true for Scott. He slowly stepped forward, raising his good hand and keeping his metal one down. "I'm not here to cause any trouble; I'm just looking for the home address of my family."
"What's the matter, son? Trouble making a phone call?"
Even saying it out loud sounded humiliating. "I lost touch."
"Couldn't make an appointment here? Family members are always allowed."
"I didn't want anyone to see me the way I am. I'm here for my grandmother, but...I also want to see my daughter. If I came here first, I'm sure my ex-wife would hear about it and wouldn't let me near her, which is why I need to get the address here. That's all. Please." Please, don't give me a reason to silence you.
"Hmph." The old man glanced at the door to the file room and then back at the figure in the shadows, frowning suspiciously. Then he sighed. "Look, there's no need to give the cops an excuse to arrest you. I'll just give you her family's address, but she's a friend of mine, so don't make me regret this!"
"You won't, believe me."
So the old man told him. The Winter Soldier memorized it right away, his chest filling with hope as those blessed words entered his mind. He was going to see his sister, but he also felt uncertainty, since he was one step closer into uncovering another link to his past, and the results now were unpredictable.
"You need me to repeat that?"
"No, I got it. I can't thank you enough!"
"Heh, that's funny, because you look happier, but still seem pretty darn burdened, and I'm certain its not the drugs!"
The Winter Soldier looked on in a daze. "I don't know," he said softly. "Ever since I broke from-from my phase-I have been questioning myself a lot. I barely even know who I am, and I find that...my family lives here...that I've missed so much...and I can't be part of it. Not really."
"Oh, boy, here we go," sighed the old man. "Son, I know a thing or two about men who've made terrible decisions. Hell, most of them I know of had come back from the Cold War and were never the same again; the few comforts they sought were therapy, drink, and drugs-it was a Woodstock back then."
I know, thought the Soldier, I was there. I also assassinated thirty-five people, twenty of which were politicians, and helped blow up an entire building. I was the turning point of the Cold War.These thoughts instantly washed with the guilt and the self-horror he would always feel. He only wished Hydra had erased those memories and not the memories of his old life.
"Look, all I'm saying is that I know what it's like to feel doubt because you know you've done and faced pretty bad shit, but it don't mean you let that doubt take you over completely. Give it a shot; if you're really willing to get clean and reconcile, then fight for it. Show 'em that you're ready to change."
If only Scott were able to hear your words, old man. For me, it's much more complicated than that. A couple of months ago, I was the enemy from your Cold War. What am I now, but a weapon with no handler?
"It would be best if you didn't tell anyone I was here," he told the old man.
"Yeah, or else I'd be questioned for conspiracy. We don't want that. Say, when you do see your grandma, could you remind her that last I checked, her prescription needs to be filled. She's in the early stages of Alzheimer's, poor gal."
"I'll tell her," said the Soldier, but the old man kept talking, seeming to be stuck in his own memories.
"Keeps saying she knew Captain America back when World War II started. Said he was a childhood friend, babysat her when she was little, and he and her brother were lifelong pals. Quite the story, if there had been more to tell! Say, you ought to feel proud, that your gran-" When he looked up, the figure in the dark was gone. Leaving no trace that he was there. "Huh, either you're losin' it, or that kid's as sneaky as a cobra," muttered the old man. "Now, what was I doin'-oh, yeah, milk. I need milk."
Just imagine the old man being Stan Lee. Heh, heh!