They'd completed the initial set up of the security in the late afternoon. There remained more he wanted to add, but the basics were up and functioning. She could access the feeds on any of her devices including her phone and could remotely arm or disarm as needed. She wasn't thrilled to have her entire life on camera and had been insistent on the encryption being solid, which Bucky didn't argue about. The only areas without cameras were the bathrooms, for obvious reasons. That meant she would have to remember to not traipse about her apartment naked, which she had laughed about and freely admitted to not doing given the uncovered windows throughout most of the space.
Now, the security did not prevent someone in a neighboring building from spying on her either with video or audio, but he'd suggested the addition of a jammer that would discourage it at the very least. The trick would be outsourcing one that would not interfere with either the existing security feeds or the computer systems needed to do her work.
He suspected it would take her a few days to not feel self-conscious under the watchful eye of the system. Which made sense, he supposed. No one should feel comfortable with their life under a proverbial microscope as he well knew. He might be out from under the thumb of Hydra, but the US government still kept an eye on him. Subtly, but not so well that he hadn't become aware of it. So long as they kept their noses directly out of his life he let them have their fun and ignored them.
Not that he had much of a life outside Sam and Nienna, but it was the principle of the matter.
He'd helped her prepare dinner. The tomatoes she'd picked earlier were being used in both a salad and as a topping for made from scratch pizza. She currently worked on a massive batch of popcorn without the use of a microwave. No, she had an old-school popcorn pan with the hand crank on top and melted butter in another pan on the stovetop. The place smelled amazing thanks to the various foodstuffs she had going.
"You didn't have to go to all this trouble."
"I promised you food and libations did I not?" She glanced over her shoulder at him as the stove put her back to him where he sat at the island.
"Well, yeah, but I figured we'd have something delivered." If he'd known she'd be cooking he would have contributed more than just the tech.
"You won't let me pay for all that gear you bought, so you are going to suffer with my cooking skills in return. Only seems fair."
He chuckled. "I doubt suffer is the right word based on how it smells."
"I guess you'll just have to wait and see." She glanced at the countertop where a pair of empty bottles stood. "Help yourself to another beer if you wish, though I do have wine and liquor if you want to up your game."
He sighed softly. "I feel like I'm wasting your money drinking it, so water will be fine."
"Wasting? What?" She took an instant to figure it out. "Oh, right, you can't get drunk. Well, that's no fun."
He snorted. "You got that right," he agreed, but he still got up and grabbed another pair of them from her fridge, opening them, and leaving one on the counter next to the stove for her. Instead of returning to the stool he'd been perched upon, he simply leaned back against the counter next to her, no longer willing to talk to her back.
"How long has it been?" she asked as the popcorn began to turn itself inside out in the pot.
"Since what?" he responded only slightly confused but her seeming non sequitur of a question.
"Since you could get drunk?" she elaborated.
He went eerily still as her most likely innocent question that sent his mind diving deep into his past. She remained focused on the steaming pan before her - as she should to avoid burns - and surely missed the pained expression that crossed his face.
The pot lid began to rise up and she swore. "I always put too much in," she grouched as she removed it from the heat, placing it on a nearby hotpad and quickly turning off the burner. Only then did she look over at him to see the carefully crafted mask he'd slid into place to hide his gut punch reaction to her question.
"Bucky? Shit, I am so sorry. You don't have to answer that."
At her honest contriteness, he forced his shoulders to relax and eased the tension building between his shoulder blades. He knew she'd not meant anything by the question other than honest curiosity and interest in his life. Or so he hoped anyway. For all he knew, she could be a plant trying to draw him back in his previous profession using far more personal methods now that the Red Book control phrases no longer worked.
But… but then why would she have so boldly admitted to having had a girlfriend and recently at that. Kind of defeated the purpose to lure him in with sex if she wasn't actually interested. "It's okay," he finally responded gruffly. Too gruffly by far as the hint of a smile on her face faded to unhappiness. "Ni, I just didn't expect the question is all and… and…"
"And it brought up memories you'd rather not revisit at the moment," she finished, which was close enough to the truth that he let it lie there. She stepped away to dump the popcorn into the oversized bowl that had been waiting for it, then poured the melted butter over the top. She added salt before placing a plate over the bowl and giving it a good shake to mix everything together. "Help me move everything to the living room?"
He nodded and they spent the next few minutes silently transferring all the goodies to the coffee table she'd cleared for that exact purpose. The oversized TV had been mounted to what was technically the wall of her bedroom, but given the extremely open floor plan, the choices had been there or on a table built for that purpose. He grabbed a plate and a couple of slices of pizza while she started with the rabbit food. His first bite confirmed his belief that it tasted as good as it smelled, better in fact. He wolfed down the first piece then slowed to savor the second.
She grinned, though it still appeared to be subdued thanks to her previous faux pas. "That bad, huh?"
"Yes, that's the word, bad," he commented sarcastically. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"
"My mom was a high-end chef. Taught me everything I know about cooking. And a lot about using fresh produce, so…" she shrugged then took a long drink of her beer.
"Well, considering you're a nerd you learned well," he told her, trying to ease the tension he could sense between them, her still feeling guilty for bringing up his past.
"Food is just fancy science. Alton Brown taught me that. My mom just made the recipes… personal, if that makes any sense."
"Makes perfect sense." He finished off the second slice of pizza, followed by a long swallow of the beer while he considered his next words. "It was after being rescued from that Hydra facility that I noticed I was… different. And not just due to the usual responses to being tortured and almost dying. I just… didn't tell anyone." He paused to watch for her reaction, but while obviously solemn she didn't prompt him for more, permitting him to decide how much of his past he wished to disclose. Granted everyone knew the basics, it was on display in the Smithsonian for fuck's sake, but the black and white words could never encompass what he'd actually gone through.
"When I survived falling from the train, which should have been impossible, I began to understand exactly how different he… Zola had made me. After that, I, meaning the real boy Bucky Barnes, only remember bits and pieces. Most of my memories for the last fifty or so years aren't mine, not really. It wasn't until Steve woke me up that I began to figure out what I had become." He shrugged. "Hell, I'm still figuring that out."
"James, I didn't mean to open old wounds."
"I know. You have every right to be curious about me, especially since you've let me into your home, I just can't promise I'll always be able to answer right then."
She set down her salad and turned to face him better. "You have decades of trauma to process, I get that. Just tell me if I've asked the wrong thing and I'll let it go."
He wanted to shake his head but instead set his hand on her knee. "No, I need to face my past, to talk about it without wanting to hide in a dark corner. I just haven't quite reached that point yet. But I know the only way to do so is to own that past, not hide from it. It's still a work in progress I'm afraid."
"James… Bucky, you've had less than a year to deal with a century of experiences, it should still be a work in progress. I hope I can be of some help to you is all."
He squeezed her knee. "You have been. Really." He removed his hand and settled back into the cushions needing to change the topic. "I seem to recall being promised a movie."
She laughed softly. "That you were. Play the queued movie," she said to the air. Bucky might have been an old man, but he understood smart tech well enough to recognize this as such.
Before us, the TV turned on and the system ran through some pre-set opening routine before the movie started. He grabbed another slice of pizza as the movie itself began, the filming style clearly not modern and the opening scene confusing, to say the least. Some strange conversation about swallows and coconuts. He shot a look at Ni, who nibbled on a slice of pizza and stared raptly at the screen, the corners of her lips twitching in an obvious effort to not laugh at the dialogue.
She had chosen this particular movie for a reason, so he decided to give it a fair chance.
Once the pizza had been devoured they moved onto the popcorn, setting the bowl between them and sharing, fingers bumping into each other now and again, which she didn't seem to mind, though she mock fought over a larger sized piece now and again much to his amusement. Enough so that he found himself relaxing and enjoying the absurdity of the story and actually laughing out loud now and then.
Arthur and company continued their search for the Holy Grail when they came upon another group of knights who proceeded to make him understand exactly why she had chosen this particular movie.
"No." He snapped his head around to glare at her. "This is not where people think your name is from."
She burst out in giggles. "Yes, this is exactly where they think it's from."
"The fucking Knights Who Say 'Ni'? No. No. No. This is totally unacceptable," he argued. "It's Nye-enna, not Nee-enna."
"I am aware," she informed him, still plainly amused by his reaction.
"But why don't you correct them?"
"Because a somewhat obscure character from a novel is harder to recall than a classic line from a Monty Python movie."
He huffed out a breath. "Just tell them it's Ni, like Bill Nye the Science Guy."
Her jaw literally dropped. "You know who Bill Nye is?"
Bucky rolled his eyes, recalling Sam's surprise at his knowledge about Gandalf. "Why does everyone assume I've been living in some cave for the last few decades?"
"Because you were, figuratively, of course." She picked up the remote and paused the movie which had continued playing as they had talked. She frowned slightly. "I guess we, meaning people in general, assume you didn't have much exposure to the real world until after you escaped Hydra. Catching up on decades of information, especially somewhat niche topics, just doesn't seem like it would be a priority for you."
He took a moment to see his life from her perspective and truthfully couldn't find fault with her reasoning. "You have a point, I haven't caught up on everything that's taken place in the decades I wasn't me, but I also wasn't kept in a box. To do my… that job I had to understand the world I was interacting with. The learning curve was steep, but my Hydra handlers made certain that when I needed to learn something I did so quickly and didn't forget." He knew he'd fallen into that emotionless tone he still used when discussing his past as the Winter Soldier, and she hadn't missed it, going still and quiet as he spoke.
"James-"
"It's okay. You only know what you've heard, through the media most likely, and while not wrong, it most certainly isn't the entire truth. And… and while I remember it…" He trailed off shaking his head, not quite certain how to put it into words she would understand.
She leaned over slightly and set her hand on his forearm. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."
He patted her hand, hers cool under his own. "Thank you, but I want you to understand. The information is there, like all the martial arts, it's become imbedded in me, deeper than simple rote memory, and while I can tell you for the most part whether it was me or the Soldier who had learned it, the lines have become blurred since I… woke up, I guess."
Ni appeared to be deep in thought, so when she finally spoke her question surprised him.
"Have the lines been fading since you had the programming nullified?"
He cocked his head, eyes narrowing slightly at her astute observation. "Yes, but I can still tell the difference between memories that are solely mine and those that belong to the Soldier."
She nodded. "You probably always will, given your high level of intelligence."
"Least until I get old enough to go senile," he muttered.
She snickered. "Bucky Barnes old and gray and drooling happily as his nurse feeds him. Now that's a sight I'd pay to see."
"You and me both, doll," he responded, fully aware that should he manage to live that long that she'd have passed away decades prior. Given how long Steve had managed to live, Bucky knew he had a long wait before reaching even the hint of the Grim Reaper making a visit. Then again, Steve had done the wise thing and gotten out, settled down and had a family, lived his life, whereas Bucky had apparently chosen to put his ass on the line of fire and risk death by flying projectile for a little while longer.
He had no doubts it was what he needed to be doing right now in his life, but there were times, when the bullets were buzzing past him, that he longed for that life of quiet obscurity. Hell, maybe what he needed was a reason to walk away, which Steve had. Bucky looked over at Ni, who seemed oblivious as to where his thoughts had gone, thankfully. They barely knew each other really, but he knew he wanted this relationship to continue, even if only as friends.
"Bucky-"
"How about you rewind and we watch the rest of this movie, huh?"
She appeared as if she wanted to say something, but shook her head. "Of course, I did promise you a movie after all."
"Maybe two?"
She laughed. "I think that can be arranged."
. . .
Ni: *are you free saturday?*
Bucky: *yes. why?*
Ni: *meet me at the entrance to the bandshell at Prospect Park at noon. wear comfortable clothes, it's going to be hot.*
Bucky: *I'll be there*
.
It took a few minutes to find her given the crowds that had swarmed the area, she now stood out in a crowd with her blue highlighted hair. After that incident involving her car, she'd modified her looks in an effort to make her more difficult to spot. People would expect a brunette with long hair so she'd cut it into a fancy bob that just touched her shoulders and dyed sections of it a brilliant blue. On top of that, she'd added glasses that she didn't need, but which changed her looks a surprising amount. He'd done a double-take the first evening she'd walked in with the new look, but he'd ultimately decided he liked it as, oddly enough, it suited her.
He hadn't suggested the changes and had to give her credit for effort, but given they, whoever they actually were, already knew where she lived, it wouldn't matter ultimately. Not that there'd been any issues since he'd finished installing the security system. It had taken three trips to complete the work to his satisfaction and she'd used every visit as an excuse to introduce him to more movies he had yet to have the opportunity to watch. Each time he'd hung out later than the previous, so late in fact, that the last time she'd offered her spare room to him. He had declined, his enhanced metabolism allowing him to go for extended periods of time without sleep, staying awake some twenty hours was nothing for him.
Still, he had appreciated her willingness to share her home with him if only for a night.
He'd come to realize he wanted more, but now being aware of her preferences had found himself being more than content being her friend.
He wended his way through the crush of people to her side, discovering she had a massive backpack strapped to her shoulders and carried a thick blanket over one arm.
He glanced about, not liking the crowd, but was willing to see where the day led. "Hey, you."
"Bucky," she greeted him with one of her brilliant smiles. "I didn't expect it to be so crowded this early." She tucked an escaping strand of hair behind her ear. "Take this." She handed him a lanyard with what looked like an oversized ticket inside that had the words, "Music in the Park" written on it in some fancy script. She proceeded to give him a once-over, a frown on her face. "Thought I said to dress comfortably."
"I am comfortable," he groused. He'd worn jeans and a pale blue tee, over which he had his usual hoodie. He'd also worn his gloves and added a baseball cap. He couldn't help but notice that comfortable for her were shorts that fell to mid-thigh and a tank top that showed off exactly how slender she was. And that she had a surprising amount of ink. The evenings they met at the pub, she'd often come straight from work and therefore just about always wore slacks and dress shirts. The only other time he'd seen her in such relaxed clothing had been the days he'd worked on her security and then it had been leggings and an oversized t-shirt, which, in truth, hadn't been all that revealing.
She huffed out a breath of discontent. "I'll see if I can find us a spot that'll have some shade." She turned and headed towards the "gated" entrance for the bandshell. The entire area had been roped off for some event that she'd obviously bought them tickets to. Most likely a musical event, given the title on the pass, which gave him some cause for concern since he had yet to develop a fondness for modern music. Any of it. Oh, some, like EDM, had its place in his life. When he worked out he'd found the deep mindless pounding beats permitted him to disconnect for a time and focus on the self-torture instead of wandering off to places and memories he wanted to forget, if only a short while.
"Ni..." The reluctance in his voice a living thing.
She spun about. "Do you trust me? Even the tiniest bit?"
"Yes," he responded instantly. He actually trusted her quite a bit but understood why she might think otherwise given his past.
"Then follow me." She gave him a hopeful smile and he nodded and walked with her through the demarcated entrance, the passes apparently giving them the freedom to wander where they wanted beyond the ropes. She glanced up at the sky and headed off to the left where a line of trees stood. While at its height now, the sun would soon be dipping towards the west and that side of the park would see shade first. She picked a spot and handed him the blanket, while she shrugged off the backpack that upon further inspection might actually be one of those fancy portable picnic baskets.
He grabbed it from her as it shifted suddenly off her shoulder, finding it light for him, but most certainly heavy for her. "What's in here, gold bricks?" he asked as he set it on the ground leaning against his leg so it wouldn't tip over.
"Bottles of wine," she told him. She gestured at the blanket. "Help me spread it out."
He did as she requested and within minutes they'd both settled on the soft padded surface, a slight rise in land permitted them a mostly unobstructed view of the stage, where a massive band had set up. It almost looked like an orchestra, but somehow Bucky knew it wasn't.
She had opened the pack and pulled out a couple of bottles of water, handing one to him. "Why are we here?"
She gave him a sly smile. "You'll see. Or rather hear in about fifteen minutes. Remember the whole trust thing?"
He nodded, cracked open the water, and sipped at it, his eyes wandering over the entire area, assessing and cataloging everything about them.
"You always do that, you know."
"Do what?" he questioned without turning towards her.
"Check out the lay of the land wherever you are. If I didn't know better I'd swear you were a thief who automatically cases the joint out of habit."
Bucky snorted. "Well, you're not wrong. It's... I don't know that I can stop it, but if you don't like it, I can try."
She shook her head. "No, it's wholly you. So, what are you seeing?"
"That could be a potential... problem?"
She nodded, shifting to sit with legs crossed and watching him intently,
"Well, staff security are all carrying tasers. Outside perimeter is police, both plainclothes and uniformed with guns. There's a first aid tent with EMS on-site and a riot truck disguised as a transport vehicle. I've seen at least a dozen people walk by with concealed weapons ranging from switchblades to guns." He paused as she rummaged in the pack again. "And I can already smell the pot."
From inside the depths of the pack, Ni pulled out a knife that he knew to be barely legal in the city.
"You know how to use that?"
"Unless I'm mistaken, it's pretty much point and stab."
He chuckled. "Well, you're not wrong." He tipped his head to watch her with care and saw the tension around her eyes and mouth. "You know how to fight?"
She shrugged. "I've taken some self-defense courses, but that's it." She put the knife away in an outside pocket where it would be easily accessible should anything untoward happen.
"Want to learn?"
"I've looked into classes, but I don't have a lot of free time."
He blinked. "You hang out with me at least five nights a week, I think you can find some time in there."
She shook her head. "First off I enjoy hanging out with you, so that won't be changing. Unless I'm annoying you?" she asked, sounding oddly plaintive.
Bucky shook his head. "Not a chance, doll."
"And second, I feel safe with you so..."
He appreciated that. There were plenty of people who would find themselves feeling anything but safe with him. "But you are not with me all the time."
"I know, I just... I carry a taser in my purse when I'm out and about, but other than that..." She ducked her head and looked away.
He reached over and set a hand on her knee. "I'm offering to train you."
Her head whipped back around. "You'd do that?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, because... I'm concerned it'll trigger your PTSD, if I'm being honest, and I wouldn't want to do that to you."
He gave her a smile, touched by her caring about his state of mind. "I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine, I swear."
She set her hand atop his. "If you're sure?"
He nodded.
"Then I'd be honored to have you teach me to kick some ass."
He snickered. "Oh, I'll do a lot more than that if you'll let me."
She grinned back. "Aren't you hot?"
He wanted to say no, but at that moment he felt a line of sweat tickle its way down the center of his back. "I'll be fine."
"James, I do not need you getting heatstroke. I am not strong enough to drag your unconscious ass to the first aid tent. Take the sweatshirt and gloves off."
He instantly went tense, not willing to reveal his prosthetic arm in public. He knew once people saw it they would know instantly that the former Winter Soldier stood in their midst. Then the whispers and fear would begin.
"No one will care."
"You can't know that," he hissed.
"Look around you. Is anyone watching us? Are we watching any of them? Well, aside from your need to assess any situation you're in, that is." The band on the stage began to stir, various instruments being played as if to verify that they were still tuned.
"You don't understand, can't understand."
"You're right I can't. And yes, some of them might recognize you and see nothing more than the man you were." She raised her head, muscles flexing visibly in her jaw. "Well, they'd be wrong. Just let them see what I do. Give them a chance. Hell, give yourself a chance."
She had such confidence in him that he couldn't help but be bolstered up by it. Her faith in him contagious. "Okay. But if there's trouble-"
"There won't be."
Still, he shifted and removed first the hat, then gloves, and finally the sweatshirt. His body instantly thanked him for the opportunity to permit the sweat collecting on his skin to evaporate and cool him. He piled the clothes up neatly then looked over at Ni, who sat there smiling broadly at him.
"Ooo, beefcake."
He snorted. Then he realized this was the first time she'd seen him in short sleeves. Even around her, he tended to wear long-sleeved shirts to hide his arm. "You are shockingly persuasive."
She shrugged a shoulder at him. "You just like me is all."
"Well, I'm not going to argue with the truth."
"Smart man." She twisted about, her shirt riding up slightly to reveal part of a tattoo.
"You've got an impressive amount of ink."
"What?" She noticed where he was looking. "Oh, yeah. A few. Is that a deal-breaker?"
"No. Just hadn't seen them before."
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "Huh, I guess you haven't. I generally keep them where they can easily be hidden since certain segments of the government frown upon them, no matter how common they are in the nerd circles I run in."
"Well, you don't have to hide them from me," he assured her, glancing at the ones within easy view. Shoulders, calves, plus the one he'd caught a glimpse of on her lower back. Given none were the usual butterflies or flowers, he suspected each one had some important meaning to her.
"I'll keep that in mind in the future."
Whatever response he'd intended to say faded from his mind when on the stage the band began playing, and, much to his amazement, he recognized the song. In the Mood by Glen Miller rang across the lawn through the speakers set up and took him back to the months prior to going off to war. He sat there staring open-mouthed until the final note faded into the distance.
Once the applause died down a voice echoed out welcoming them to the summer series Music Through the Decades. As soon as he stepped away the next song began, As Time Goes By by Vera Lynn.
A hand settled on his shoulder. "You okay?"
"I don't know," he answered, turning to meet her eyes.
"James..." she reached out and ran her fingers across his cheek, wiping away tears he hadn't realized until that moment he'd let fall. "We can go."
He grasped her hand with the vibranium one, taking all due care not to accidentally injure her. "No. I want to stay." He wiped his eyes with his right hand, the emotions drawn out of him by the music still there and leaving him feeling oddly naked in front of her. He took a few minutes to get himself back under control with her watching him, brow furrowed with worry the entire time. "What made you think to do this?"
She gave him a watery smile. "I figured it was the music you were most familiar with and that it might remind you of home."
Her words hit hard, but put a name to the emotional turmoil churning inside him: homesick.
"I know you can't go home, so I thought I'd bring a piece of it to you."
He lowered his head, eyes closing and body shaking for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on. He pressed her fingers to his lips. "Thank you."
She shifted over, her shoulder close enough to feel against the metal of his arm. "Anytime. They're doing an entire series, a different decade every week. That," she plucked at the pass he still wore, "gets you into all of them." He lifted his head and met her eyes. "Who knows, you might even find some new music you like."
"If you join me," he insisted.
She smiled and nodded. "Of course. Though I suppose you can be excused if the world needs saving."
He snorted. "How generous of you."
She gave him a gentle nudge but otherwise didn't respond.
For the next thirty minutes or so they sat in an amiable silence as he reacquainted himself with the music of his youth. At that point, the man who'd introduced the show came back and announced the band would be taking a break but would be back shortly, followed by canned music echoing across the lawn that came from the same decade.
"You okay?" she asked when he sighed softly.
He nodded as he came up out of the reverie he'd fallen into, the music bringing up so many memories, most good, some not so much as they'd occurred after he'd been shipped off to war, but still better than after he'd fallen off that train. "Ni, I-"
"Nienna? Ni, is that you?" a man's voice called out and they both looked up to see a couple that had stopped about a dozen feet in front of them.
"Jeffery?" Ni got to her feet and headed towards the couple. "Dez," she gave each of them a quick hug. "What brings down to my corner of hell?"
They both laughed. "I somehow won tickets to this and figured it'd be the only way to get him out of the house, so... here we are," Dez answered then glanced over at Bucky who pretended to not be assessing them for potential danger.
"Jeff, Dez, this is my friend James."
Bucky rolled upright and strolled over to them, watching for their reaction. The guy, Jeff, opened his mouth to say something, quite obviously changed his mind, then just plain stared at Bucky's left arm.
Bucky tried to ignore the sinking sensation in his gut, squared his shoulders, and sidled up next to Ni. "Hey." He held out his hand to be shaken, but Jeff continued to stare at him, mouth slightly open like a fish suddenly finding itself on the floor after foolishly jumping out of its water-filled bowl.
Dez elbowed him hard enough for him to grunt in discomfort. "Sorry," he muttered. "I was going to compliment you on your sleeve, but then I realized it was a prosthetic and-"
"And he ended up tongue-tied," Dez finished for him.
Bucky turned to Ni, "Sleeve?"
"Tattoo that covers the arm completely, typically from wrist to shoulder," she explained quickly and concisely.
"Ah." he glanced down at his own arm, understanding how the mistake could have been made. "And now?"
Jeff literally smacked the heel of his hand into his forehead. "God, I'm an idiot. You're Bucky Barnes."
Bucky nodded, inwardly cringing at what he knew would be coming next.
"You're a damn hero. You stopped the Flag Smashers a few months ago, right? You work with Falcon."
Dez elbowed him again, if not as hard this time. "You mean Captain America."
Jeff shook his head. "He wasn't Captain America till that night, he was still Falcon until then."
Ni snorted in clear amusement. "Yes, that is technically true."
Bucky noted that none of them mentioned John Walker, the government's official Captain America until he'd murdered a man in cold blood in Latvia. The incident had been recorded by dozens and had led to him and Sam taking the shield back by force.
Dez glanced from him to Ni and back again. "And this is who has been keeping you from game night?"
Ni nodded, a slightly guilty look on her features.
"I'd skip game night too," Dez admitted, earning a 'hey' of discontent from Jeff. "We should double one night. Get caught up."
Ni looked over to Bucky who gave her a nod. "We'd like that. Text me the place and time and we'll be there, barring world-saving events, then you'll be stuck with just me."
"Oh, the horror," Dez responded then moved in for another hug. "Good to see you, Ni."
"Same, Dez, Jeff."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes," Jeff said, holding out his hand to be shaken this time, which Bucky obliged him with, not bothering with the manly contest of strength, they both knew he could crush Jeff's hand with ease.
They both smiled at them before turning to continue to their destination. Even though they'd lowered their voices, Bucky could still hear them.
"Is she safe with him," Jeff asked, with actual concern in his voice.
Dez responded without any hesitation, "Did you see the way he looked at her? She's the safest person here. Weren't you the one to point out he's a hero?"
Jeff sighed. "But he wasn't always," he reminded her.
They'd moved far enough away that Dez's comeback was inaudible, but given her previous comments would most likely be in his favor. But it got him thinking. What if being with Nienna put her in danger? What if the car bomb wasn't poor design, but a warning.
Dez might think Ni was safe with Bucky, but it remained entirely possible that he could be putting her right in the line of fire.
"You hungry?" Ni asked. She'd moved back to the blanket, the pack open as she gazed into its depths.
His stomach rumbled. "Famished," he admitted. The breeze had floated the scents of the various food stands and trucks towards them now and then, so he had some idea of what there might be to choose from. "Any preference?"
She glanced up at him in confusion. "James, I brought food, remember?"
He shook his head. "You only mentioned wine, which I have yet to see." He strode back over to the blanket, half of which now lay in shade, and settled down opposite her.
"Huh, you are correct. And we can wiggle out of that double date if you really don't want to go. They're fun for a night out and our game nights can be legendary, but as you saw, he can be a bit of a fanboy when it comes to Avengers."
"I'm not an Avenger," Bucky told her.
"Right, because if aliens were to attack the planet again you wouldn't take up arms against them?"
"That's not what I said. Yeah, Sam was an Avenger, Steve, too, but I never have been. The Avengers don't really exist anymore. All of us at that battle pretty much went our separate ways after. We all had lives to rebuild."
She continued to unload the bounty of food she'd fit into the fancy backpack as she seriously thought about his statement. "Do you consider yourself a hero?"
He shook his head. "Not really. I just help out Sam now and then. Yeah, I get paid to do it, but a lot of it is..." he trailed off, not quite sure how to explain it.
"Not quite legal?" she suggested as she handed him the bottle of white wine and the opener.
He chuckled. "I think they'd prefer the term covert. We can work in that gray area that the government can't," he explained as he set the bottle between his thighs and twisted the corkscrew down.
"Sounds like you're being used to do their dirty work," she stated, frowning slightly.
"I'd agree, except we're not dropping bombs on unsuspecting dictators, on our last job we rescued a journalist who'd been kidnapped in Tunisia. The government couldn't intervene directly, so..."
"So they sent Captain America and The Win- you in. "
"I mean, we got paid for the work, but yeah." he shrugged. "We can say no, we just didn't see a reason this time." He pushed the arms down and pulled the cork out with a satisfying pop.
"What do you go by now?" she asked as she opened a plastic container stuffed full of fresh fruit that included grapes, strawberries, and raspberries among others and set it down on the blanket within easy reach of both of them.
"What do you mean?"
She tipped her head slightly as if needing to carefully plan what her next words would be. "Well, Sam… Mr. Wilson… huh, does he have an official military rank any longer?" She shook her head at herself. "Sam, is Captain America. You were," she made certain to put emphasis on the word, "The Winter Soldier, which I doubt you wish to be called any longer. What is your current code name for want of a better description."
"Why not the Winter Soldier?" he asked her, oddly curious as to her reasoning.
"Because of the connotations associated with it. Never mind the less than happy memories the name most likely stirs up for you. I'm not suggesting you're in denial of that part of your life, but you are trying to move beyond it, clinging to that name… title would seem to be an error."
"What if I just want to redeem that title, turn it into something that inspires trust and hope instead of fear?" Not that he had any intention of doing so, but he wanted to gauge her reaction. Yes, a test of sorts, but not necessarily a pass/fail one. However, it would ultimately speak to her character in his eyes.
"A noble endeavor," she stated, "but possibly a useless one."
"Why is that?"
"Thanks to Zemo that name will always be associated with the death of King T'Chaka and the UN bombing, and the Accords. I'm not saying it can't be changed, but some scars are still too fresh in the minds of people even after… Thanos."
He nodded slowly, not agreeing per se, but in understanding of her opinion of the matter. An opinion he suspected many others still held. "Then it's a good thing I hadn't planned on using that as my official moniker, isn't it."
She gave him a smile. "Good. 'Cause I don't want to have to hurt people to get them to believe you changed. Though your actions should be more than enough to prove it."
"You have no need to defend me," he informed her, not understanding why she would bother.
"Pfft. You are my friend, of course, I'm going to defend you when necessary."
"Ni, I'm not worth it."
She stared at him in utter astonishment. "Bucky, you are. Do you really think I continue to spend time with you just to be polite?" Before he could respond she said, "No. I want to spend time with you. You're smart, and sweet, and care more than you like to admit under the grouchy exterior."
He shook his head. "I don't know what I am."
She handed him a strawberry, which he took and popped into his mouth, the sweet chilled fruit distracting him with a few moments of bliss.
"You are my friend, of course, which means I'm in the best company possible."
This time she handed him a plastic cup of white wine, which he took a moment to taste as he contemplated how to respond.
Instead, she knocked his thoughts right off track.
"Do you miss him? Sorry, dumb question, of course you do."
"Uh, who?"
She paused, obviously reviewing her question before realizing she'd failed to be specific as to the who. "Captain Rogers. He was your last connection to your… past, your home. I don't know, all this might just have been easier if he'd survived that battle. Even if he'd retired, he'd still be here to help you adjust."
Of course, she didn't know about Steve actually retiring, only a select few actually did and they'd all agreed to tell no one, to let the world believe he'd simply died fighting Thanos. It was both simpler and safer. No need to announce to the world at large that Stark had figured out time travel and that the Avengers had used it to fix what The Mad Titan had broken.
No, that tidbit of information was far too dangerous to reveal at this point in time.
So to speak.
"You are not wrong, but at some point, I would have to figure it out for myself. I have to prove to the world I'm no longer The Winter Soldier, not Steve, not Sam, hell not the Avengers wherever they might be. Everything in my past is on me." He drank down the wine and held out the cup for more, which she obliged him with. "I miss him, always will, but I can't cling to that past forever." He shrugged. "At some point, I have to move on. Figure out if what Zola did to me is all I'll ever be."
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him over the top of her cup. She pushed the container of sliced meats at him and he took some without even thinking about it.
He glanced down at the neatly packaged and displayed food, realizing she'd created the picnic equivalent of a charcuterie board for them. A surprisingly intimate style of meal, that he suddenly realized, included some of her prized tomatoes. He grabbed a couple of quarters along with some cheese and took a few seconds to enjoy the meal she'd prepared for them before answering.
"You understand Zola used some version of the super-soldier serum on me, right? A version created from Schmidt's blood most likely." He realized just then how little he actually knew about his creation…. Conversion from average human to super.
"That is the current theory as Schmidt didn't have direct access to the formula used in Project Rebirth once his mole had been caught."
Bucky tried to cover his surprise at her knowledge of the whole secret project but plainly failed given her next words.
"History class, Bucky. The broad strokes for the most part, but Americans grow up learning about Captain Rogers and the Howling Commandos and you in grade school. Add in the continued existence of the SSR and SHIELD and there's very few who don't know your stories to one degree or another. In fact, I believe some of it is included in naturalization tests."
Bucky stared at her in more than a little astonishment. He hadn't realized how much of their lives had become part of the history of this country. It had never really crossed his mind that what they'd done during WWII would make them famous for decades after.
"Well, shit," he muttered, not certain how to react to this revelation.
She laughed and poured him more wine as if knowing he would need it. "I understand the basics. I'm a neurophysicist, not a geneticist, so the details will be beyond me without a few classes."
"Hell, they're beyond me. I just wish I knew with certainty I wasn't like Schmidt."
She stared at him for a long moment then burst out into full-throated laughter. She continued for a few minutes, tears forming at the apparent utter hilarity of his statement. Eventually, she wound down, taking the glasses off and wiping the tears that had run down her cheeks away with a napkin that he held out to her.
Bucky couldn't decide if he should feel amused or angry over her reaction to his serious statement. "What was that about?"
"You," she hiccuped, "you thinking you're anything like that megalomaniac Schmidt." She snickered more at the mere thought of that, even as she tried to get her amusement under control.
"Winter Soldier," he reminded her, tone and emotions dark as irritation at her seemingly blatant disregard of reality intruded on what had been a nice day.
She instantly got control of herself when she heard his tone. "James Buchanan Barnes, you are an idiot."
He blinked, not certain how to react to that response. "Explain," he told her through clenched teeth.
"Did you or did you not fight on the side of the Howlies during the war, which I seem to recall would have been after your first dose of the serum."
He nodded. "Yeah, I did. But it was war and I killed a lot of people."
"So did Captain Rogers. It was war. Death was a necessity, not something either of you wanted." She narrowed her eyes and looked at him hard. "Or was it?"
Bucky shook his head. "No, if we could have resolved things peacefully we… he… Steve would have done it in a heartbeat. Schmidt and Hydra wanted to stomp the rest of us out of existence."
"Exactly," she said with a vague wave of her hand.
"Nope, still not getting your point."
"James…" She huffed out a breath and ran a hand through her hair as she contemplated how to make her point. "Schmidt was given an earlier version of Erskine's formula, similar to the one Captain Roger's received, yes?"
"You can call him Steve, you know."
She blinked. "I'll try, but since I didn't know him personally, it feels weird to call him by his given name."
Bucky leaned over slightly. "I'm giving you permission, doll, besides he won't care."
She sighed softly, then nodded. "So, to recap, you, as far as we know, received a tweaked version of the Schmidt serum, correct?"
"That's the working theory," he agreed.
"But it was still an Erskine formula. With the whole good becomes great, bad becomes worse, right?"
Bucky sat there frozen, not able to do more than nod slightly in response.
"If you really had fallen to the second option do you really think you'd be worried that you had? Would Hydra have needed to brainwash you if the serum had brought your dark side to the fore? Would you have spent more money than I like to think about since you won't let me repay you on security tech to help a virtual stranger?" She gave him a tiny smile. "Would you even consider redeeming the Winter Soldier title if you didn't care the least little bit about what others thought of you?"
Right at that moment, you could have knocked him over with a literal feather. Why had no one stated it so simply before? "No. I don't suppose I would," he finally managed, his throat tight and emotions skittering all over the place. He knew he wanted to be better, knew he could be better, and had worked towards that ever since the moment Steve fucking Rogers had asked "Bucky?" on that street all those years ago.
She reached out and set gentle fingers on his chin, encouraging him to meet her gaze. "You may still be working on who you want to be, but I can assure you, based on the few weeks we've known each other, that you are indeed a good man." She patted his cheek softly, her fingers trailing away in what felt like a caress to his abused senses, then dropped her hand away. "Just in case you were wondering."
He ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes for a few moments, and covering his discomfiture by choosing various tidbits to munch on. "Then why do I still feel like I need to… to repent for my sins?"
She hmmed softly. "Because the Winter Soldier, and through him, Hydra did a lot of damage over the decades. If you didn't still feel some guilt I'd be more concerned about you. You're still human for all that you can throw a motorcycle when needed."
"Fuck. Is that video still making the rounds?"
She nodded and laughed. "It is. You don't have to answer this: what have you done to alleviate that guilt?"
He sighed. "I had this list of names. Some were people the Soldier had helped, others were victims in one way or another. I fixed what had been done."
Her eyes widened. "Oh, like Senator Atwood?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"And it wasn't enough, I take it?"
"It helped. But those that I hurt, who lost someone because of the Soldier… saying 'I'm sorry' wasn't enough. For them or me."
She frowned slightly. "But now you work with Sam… Captain America. Does that help?"
"Some. I just don't know that the good I'm doing now will ever counter the evil I did then, you know?"
"It won't."
He started. "Then why do I bother," he groused.
"Urf. I phrased that wrong. What's happened in the past will always be there. You've done what you can to correct it, but bringing resolution doesn't really change it. You, I suspect, have a need to use the gifts you've been given to do some good in the world."
"Okay, yeah." If he couldn't live out the rest of his days in obscurity he might as well work on his need to be better and do what he could to make the current reality the best place possible. Even if it did mean fighting against the government itself. Sam had made an impact with his impassioned speech to the GRC and strides had been made in keeping some of the Flag Smasher's ideals in place. The people wanted change even though the world's governments wanted to return to the status quo of prior to the Blip.
Which even he had to admit was just plain stupid.
Captain America had once again become the agent of change and Sam deserved every accolade he received for the work he'd been doing to assist in the return to the worldwide peace that had been achieved during those years.
"But how?"
"You have all his… the Winter Soldier's memories, right?"
Bucky nodded.
"So use them to do some good."
When he just stared at her blankly she huffed out a breath.
"Names, bases, intel, hell super secret plans to take over the world. Even if you completed that list, I suspect you know far more than just those few names. You can't have only been awake for hits? Were you?"
"I wish," he muttered, but her point had been made. While many of Hydra's bases had been discovered over the years, he knew of several that hadn't, as well as training facilities that, while not Hydra specifically, had been used by them. Yeah, he had a lot of intel that some might find of value even after all these years and the supposed death of the faction.
The Red Room where Natasha had been trained may no longer exist, but other similar places still did. He would need to do some research, serious research that needed to be off the books, so to speak. Which meant not using Torres, their government handler. He had resources, but if he really wanted to turn a new leaf, he really should follow Sam and Sarah's advice and avoid using those less than legal avenues he tended towards, and with Wakanda and him on the outs for the time being he would need to cultivate new opportunities.
Starting now, maybe.
"If you really want to pay me back for the security equipment…"
"I do."
"I need resources. Processing power for the searches I need to do."
She sipped her wine, the band across the way starting up again. "You want to use my system for your Hydra hunt?"
"Only if you're willing."
She nodded. "I can spare some of the server blades for your use temporarily."
"Why temporarily?"
"Because it'll take a couple of weeks for new ones to arrive. I can't just run down to Best Buy and pick up more, you know?" she gave him a nudge and a grin. "Give me a month and I'll have a system ready for your use."
He stared at her for a long moment. "You don't need to do that for me."
She shrugged. "I've been debating expanding the system anyway, this gives me a good excuse to do it. Besides, it'll give us a reason to hang out more." She gave him a nudge and a grin, then ducked her head as if embarrassed.
"Not like we need another reason to hang out, but I won't complain. In fact, I have a favor to ask."
"Another one?"
"Hey, I didn't ask you for the server thing."
She snickered. "Fair enough. So how can I assist you?"
"As you know me and Sam are taking government jobs, to help keep things… stable I guess. But we don't exactly get paid a lot of money to do it."
"Okay. You need a loan or something?" she asked, sounding a touch confused.
"Or something. Sam is going to Pepper, uh, she runs Stark Industries and he knows her from… from before and I said I'd talk to you."
She raised an eyebrow. "About?"
Bucky frowned, having second thoughts about going to her with this odd request. "With the Avengers broken up, for now, we want to strike out on our own, kind of, but it takes money neither of us has. Sarah floated the idea of getting sponsors, and I wondered if you might have some suggestions of who to talk to. Companies, or people who might be willing to invest in us and in what we want to do."
She popped a couple of grapes in her mouth as she pondered his words. "What would you be offering in exchange?"
"That we haven't worked out. Maybe appearances at corporate meetings and events? Fundraisers and such? But we don't want money from just anyone. We don't have any interest in making some billionaire richer."
"Most of the companies I work with are fairly small and won't have the kind of money you're looking for. That said, I think what you really need is an agent, they'll be able to connect you with companies that meet your requirements and help you market yourselves. You might want to consider merch and personal appearances at events. Like, Fourth of July celebrations. Though that would depend on your comfort levels dealing with the public."
Bucky sighed softly. "I doubt there would be any interest in meeting me, though Sam might be willing to put on a show."
"Bucky… did you already forget Jeff's reaction? Trust me there's plenty of people who would be willing to shake your hand for a modest fee."
He hadn't forgotten, not Jeff's reaction, or his commentary when he was walking away. Bucky knew it would take time to prove to the world that he had changed, that the crimes of the Winter Soldier were not his. "I suggested a calendar, Sarah suggested nude."
Ni laughed. "Oh, I'd pay for that and have both of you sign it." She mock-swooned, complete with the back of her hand to her forehead.
He gave her a gentle shove. "Stop it. You're a horrible friend," he grumbled.
"No, I'm not. I'll send you the info on the agency I used a few years back. If nothing else they can point you in the right direction as I'm not sure they handle superheroes." She looked over the impressively denuded food. "You satisfied for now?"
He grabbed a couple more slices of melon then nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." As he chewed on the fruit he helped her close up the containers and place them back in the cooler.
They finished off the wine in their cups and just sat and enjoyed the music for a while. The band had moved far enough into the decade that he no longer recognized the songs, though the style had mostly remained the same. He glanced over at Nienna who sat there, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles, leaning back on her hands, fingers tapping to the beat.
Bucky came to a decision and stood, stepping off the blanket and onto the grass. He turned about to see her squinting up at him. He held out his hand. "Dance with me."
When it looked like she would argue, he shook his head. "I got you."
She shifted and slapped her hand into his and permitted him to tug her upright. "You do realize I have no clue how to dance, least not this particular style."
He twirled her expertly causing her to laugh, then pulled her in close. Right hands clasped, his left settling just above her hip as was appropriate. "And what style do you know?" he asked as he followed the steps he remembered from days gone by. There'd been any number of dance events he and the Howlies had attended on those occasions they'd had some free time during the war. There'd always been a surfeit of women, some military, some locals, looking to spend an evening forgetting there was a war going on. And, thanks to Captain America, he and the other members of their squad had been considered prime catches so they'd never lacked for company, either on the dance floor or after when the dancing had been a different style altogether.
Nienna followed his lead easily, spinning out and back, trusting him when he dipped her. He didn't try any of the fancier moves that would have involved lifts, but she didn't have any issues, her coordination suggesting she had more than a passing acquaintance with dancing.
"Mostly raves, actually. I haven't done anything you'd consider real dancing since I was a kid. I think I was twelve when I took my last dance class."
Bucky understood the rave reference thanks to various movies and TV shows, though what they did he would never call dancing. Near as he could tell raves were more of an excuse to get some version of high and escape the reality of everyday life.
"Well, I would never have guessed. You're doing just fine."
"You're being kind. Even I can tell you actually know how to dance. Really dance." She let him spin her out then back in. "What did you study?"
He debated answering since it technically hadn't been him who'd learned it. "Would you believe me if I told you I studied Russian Ballet in another life?"
If she were surprised she didn't let it show. "Not at all, though I suspect it was not at one of the more… conventional schools."
"That would be a fair assumption," he agreed, not about to go into details even if she did ask about it.
"That explains why you are so light on your feet," she said even as he turned her world upside down again, the song ending a mere two beats later.
He assisted her return to vertical standing quite close to each other, eyes meeting and making him realize with an odd shock that he wanted to kiss her. The music picked up again with a slow dreamy tune as they both simply stood there, staring at one another hands still entwined, his hand on her lower back. He swallowed hard, fought back the urge, and shifted into a typical box step, her following along easily and with no complaints.
"Are you going to teach me to dance too?"
He cocked his head slightly. "Some barre work maybe, it'll help with strength and flexibility, though you are a bit old for serious training."
She huffed out a breath. "I'll try not to be offended by the suggestion that I'm old."
He snorted. "You are not old. I'm old, but my point is that most ballet dancers start very young, which trains their joints to do the impossible. Some of the required positions could potentially injure you, badly, so I will have to take care with how you progress."
She looked thoughtful. "I do yoga, so I should be reasonably flexible for my age, but I get it. Some things are for the young." Her voice lowered to a mutter, "Though when young included those beyond the century mark, is beyond me."
He laughed, knowing she meant him to hear that. He leaned in close, noting she smelled oddly enough like cookie dough. "One of those advantages to being enhanced," he said softly into her ear.
She sighed softly and took advantage of his closeness to rest her head on his shoulder, which caused his heart to begin pounding double time. Friends, damn it. They were just friends.
He stiffened in reaction and she noticed instantly. She pulled away, an odd look of disappointment on her face for an instant, but she quickly hid it. He took that half step back to put the proper distance between them. Mostly because he wanted to pull her in close and hold on for as long as she would permit him.
The song ended and they stood there awkwardly for a moment. "Had enough?" she asked.
"Not a chance, doll. I can do this all day." He wanted to smack himself for saying that, a phrase Steve had been known to not only say, a lot, but live by.
She smiled. "Good. Let's see what else you got."
Bucky obliged her.