Chapter 8. Developments

Author's notes: This story, which takes place during the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier series, will deviate somewhat from the plot and timeline of that series. Joyce, who wasn't a character in that series, will be affected by some of the events involving the Flag Smashers as they begin appearing in the New York area.

Joyce stopped the phone call as soon as Bucky's voicemail greeting came on. In the week since he left for Louisiana she had been calling or texting Bucky and except for one cryptic text that he sent on Wednesday, she had heard nothing from him since. She looked at that message, trying to determine the sub-text that was obviously in it.

Bucky: Might not be back until the weekend. Have to handle a few things. Talk to you later.

Even Yori hadn't heard anything and the people at the coffee shop on Friday asked where he was as no one had seen him all week. Yes, he was a grown man, a grown 106-year-old man, but it was unlike Bucky to be out of contact like that, unless it had something to do with the Flag Smashers. That set off all sorts of worries in Joyce for his wellbeing. It was hard for her because she cared about Bucky, knowing more now about the different things that plagued him. Something was off and it made every maternal bone in her body worried for the man. She looked at the time; it was still before noon. Perhaps if she did something it would take her mind off of the whole thing.

It was after 1 pm on Saturday when her doorbell rang. Looking out at the step through the window, her first feeling was one of relief when she saw it was Bucky. Then she got angry and opened the door ready to tell him off for not keeping in touch. He thrust a bouquet of flowers into her hand which pre-empted the words she was prepared to use.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I have a reason why I didn't call or return your texts but it's still no excuse for ghosting you." Instinctively, Joyce smelled the flowers then she looked up at him, exasperated, as he patiently waited. "May I come in?"

Stepping back, she allowed him in as she walked into the living room, still holding the flowers. He fidgeted a little, not meeting her eyes with his, at first. When he did look at her it was with a look that reminded her of her kids when they were little, scared to admit they had done something without her knowledge.

"Sit," she ordered.

With a nod he sat then looked at her, still trying to come up with the right words.

"I had a busy time in Delacroix," he began, then the rest came tumbling out. "Sam and I talked, and although he believes in me the talk helped me realize that with the amends thing, I've been trying to make myself feel better."

"There's nothing wrong with that," interjected Joyce.

"I know that," replied Bucky. "But that list I have? The one with the names? I don't really deserve to feel better for what I did to those people." He raised his hand to stop Joyce trying to interrupt. "Hear me out. They're the ones who deserve to feel better and I'm the only one who can help them in that by telling them the truth of what happened to their family member. I've been putting off talking to them and making amends because I didn't really know how to do it."

Joyce put the bouquet down and sat next to Bucky, grasping his hand.

"Why is it just on you? They tortured you almost to the point of killing you to make you do their dirty work. There is so much pain in you but also so much love and compassion that no one sees because all they see is what HYDRA wanted them to see."

"I know," he agreed quickly and emphatically. "But I'm the only visible connection to HYDRA that's left. There is no one else who can do it and they need that." He looked at her hand, putting his other hand on top of it. "The truth is that I need it too. I flew from New Orleans to Houston because one of the names was there. I told them who I was and what I did." He blinked his eyes, swallowed, then continued. "They cried, called me several choice names and the daughter even slapped me. Then they asked why I showed up at all, so I told them the truth. Those people from HYDRA who decided who my targets were did so by choice and would never admit they had done wrong. I was never with them by choice, even though I was their weapon, but it was my decision to tell them the truth so that they could begin to heal. Maybe, just maybe if I tell the truth enough times, I can find a way to forgive myself."

"For what?" She looked at him, still trying to understand why he was still fixated on the need to forgive himself. "For being taken prisoner? For being tortured?"

He swallowed again then made eye contact with Joyce. "For not being strong enough to stop them from changing me and not escaping them."

"Bucky, you had no choice," stated Joyce earnestly. "You were too injured to be able to fight them initially, then HYDRA took away the ability to fight back later. I'm just a retired librarian but even I have read enough of the decrypted files to know with certainty that they did everything in their power to keep you under their control. Think of all the money, time, and effort they put into keeping you captive. There was a whole industry, employing many people, dedicated to keeping you in line. No one would have been able to withstand what you went through and fight back." She took a deep breath when she realized he had likely heard this already. He wasn't going to budge on it. "So, you've been in Houston all week long?"

He shook his head. "I left there Wednesday morning and flew to Florida." Joyce tilted her head at him, puzzled by that mention. "I found Rebecca, my sister, but I didn't talk to her. I just watched from a distance trying to get up the nerve to speak to her."

"So, you went there but you didn't speak? Why not?"

He shrugged then caught himself. "I guess I'm not ready but at least now I know where she is and what she looks like. She looks older than I was expecting but she looks good. When I do go to see her, I want to be able to hold my head up high." His eyes made contact with Joyce's. "Is that so bad?"

"No, that's not bad at all. So, the amends you made in Houston ... how did you feel after?"

"Shaken a little," he admitted. "But it was good to get it done. I have more confidence for the others ... well, most of them."

Joyce deliberately didn't ask about Yori, speculating that would be a difficult moment that Bucky would delay as long as possible. She picked up the bouquet, taking it over to the kitchen sink and began pulling the paper away. The cupboard above the fridge held the vases but it was too high up for her to reach. Before she could get a step stool Bucky appeared and reached up for one, handing it to her. There was something in his face, wanting her to understand him instead of judging. With a sigh, she took the vase and filled it with water then began cutting the ends of the flower stems before placing them in the vase.

"So, what else happened in Delacroix? I know that you and Sam weren't really talking before you left." She shrugged. "It was kind of obvious the way you kept checking your texts that you were hoping for some word from him."

"I took a new flying suit to him," he replied. "I asked the Wakandans for a favour after his wings were badly damaged when we ... reacquired the shield." She looked at him questioningly, but he didn't elaborate. "Then I helped him get used to throwing the shield, and we talked about my nightmares and about the Flag Smashers." Smiling at that news Joyce kept cutting the flowers. "I told Sam about working towards my GED, and he was actually really good about it. Thought I should try the practice test for another subject, maybe Social Studies."

"You're always welcome to use my computer," said Joyce. "I checked with a math teacher I know about your previous math courses you took during the war, and he figured you should be able to handle everything but he's willing to tutor you in the areas you're weak in. The science component may involve some statistical analysis so you may need tutoring in that. He's asking around to find someone to help."

"I met Sam's sister," said Bucky unexpectedly. Joyce turned to look at him slightly surprised at that admission. "She was nice, but I don't think Sam was happy about me flirting with her." His face became soft in appearance. "It felt good."

"How did she respond?"

"Honestly, I think she liked it," smiled Bucky. "She's a widow, lost her husband to cancer I think, after the Snap. She has two boys, nice kids."

"Can I ask how your study of modern dating is going?" asked Joyce. "I gave you that information then left you to it."

"The Cosmopolitan and Men's Health websites are helpful, although there's a lot about sex which I'm nowhere near ready to tackle," said Bucky. "I think I'll hold off on the other books about sex until I'm ready. It's not like I don't know the basics, right? The book on love after the age of 50 was pretty good. I actually sat down and wrote out some things about myself. You know, what I'm looking for and what I can offer. Before the war I was all about the chase and having a good time. She had to like dancing, and sex was always on the table although I didn't pressure anyone into having it. If they said no, I didn't get offended."

He smiled as he thought of the number of women he went out with, to the jazz clubs, dinner, or dancing. Many did have sex with him although he always made it clear he wasn't looking for a relationship. Even though he didn't go steady with anyone he did have several consecutive dates with the same woman, and not all of them slept with him. He was surprised by Joyce's touch on his arm.

"Sorry, I was caught in memory lane there," he stated. "What did you say?"

"What if there was a way to ease you back into the non-sexual aspects of dating?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to a concert with me. Michael Bublé is coming, and I've always wanted to see him perform live. He'll probably sing a lot of old standards that you might like. We can go as friends, but it can be like a practice run for you. You can watch other couples there, see how they act together, how they dress for a date, that sort of thing. We've gone out to dinner together, right? That was good. I can bring you up to speed on what people talk about during a date nowadays, although I'm probably out of it a bit myself. My point is, I'm a safe date. I don't want to have sex with you." He made a comical shocked face. "Yes, you're an attractive man but I'm not into you in that way, and despite your calendar age you're much too young looking for me." She swatted him with a towel at the grin he gave her. "Jesus, Bucky, this is hard enough for me to ask. You don't have to make it seem that you'd be doing me a favour."

He became serious in his demeanour. "I would never feel like that about you, Joyce. You are a friend, a good one, I hope. I value your advice and I also kind of like how you look out for me. I would be happy to go to a concert with you, especially if he performs the old songs that I prefer."

Pulling her phone out, Joyce opened the ticket vendor app and showed Bucky how to buy concert tickets, just in case he ever decided to go to a concert again. He watched what she did carefully, then downloaded the app himself and set up an account on it. After determining that he hadn't yet eaten Joyce made some lunch for both of them. Considering how irritated she had been with him when he got there, by the time he left just before dinner Joyce was feeling pretty good at how the afternoon went.

During the next two weeks Bucky kept busy with making his amends to people in his list. He phoned Joyce after each one, going over what he had told them. He even came over a couple of times when he needed some more support. Together they went over the names remaining on his list as it shrunk considerably. After one of those times at Joyce's house he took the practice test for the Social Studies portion of his GED and encouraged by the results, made arrangements to take the test the following week. The math tutor helped him to study for the practice test of that subject then gave him the contact information of the science tutor.

Joyce kept herself busy as well and received good news about her blood work after her chemotherapy round. The doctors confirmed that her next round of chemotherapy wouldn't happen until late July. In celebration, a friend of Joyce's asked if she was up to taking a last-minute cruise, which had been on her bucket list. It was something she was going to consult with Bucky about, not wanting to leave him unsupported as everything seemed to be going well just then.

On the Sunday after those two weeks, Joyce bought herself a copy of the New York Times at a news kiosk, then headed over to the coffee shop. With it being a rainy day, she had her umbrella with her, and she walked towards the coffee shop, actually enjoying the soft sounds of the light drizzle as it hit the fabric of it. While she waited in line, she saw a new sign for a London Fog tea latte and read the description. Bright, citrusy spark of Italian bergamot blends with subtle hints of lavender, vanilla syrup, and steamed milk for this frothy reinvention of classic Earl Grey tea. Something about it appealed to her and she ordered that instead of her usual coffee, along with a scone. Settling down at one of the empty tables she didn't have long to wait before her name was called. The smell of the tea latte was something else, a delicate lavender wafted its way up to her nose even before she sat down with it. The taste, although subtle, was much nicer than what she had been expecting and she looked at it appreciatively before breaking a piece of her scone away and popping it into her mouth.

"It's that good?"

A young woman's voice broke her reverie, her British accent evident even in the short question. Turning to the curly haired woman who sat at the table next to her, Joyce smiled and nodded.

"Very much so," she replied. "The lavender meshes so well with the bergamot of the Earl Grey blend."

"Interesting," said the woman, her ready smile accentuating the freckles covering her face. "I guess there's always something new to try with tea. My name is Kay."

"Joyce," replied the older woman. "Are you just visiting?"

"Hopefully moving here," replied Kay. "I've been living in Europe, but I think I like it better on this side of the Atlantic. What do you do, Joyce?"

"I'm retired; was a school librarian before that."

"I always wanted to be a teacher but the Blip kind of stopped that," responded the younger woman. "Although I suppose with everyone back there's a demand for that now. Perhaps I can be a school librarian. Have they replaced you yet?"

There was something in the way she said it that didn't come across quite as friendly as her previous comments. Her face was still friendly enough and there was nothing threatening behind her question, but it seemed odd.

"I retired before the Blip," said Joyce. "With it being a large high school I'm sure they have someone already in place to handle the increased school population, someone qualified."

That last remark seemed to make something flash in the woman's eyes. Then it was gone, and she had her friendly smile back.

"Of course, like many things certain jobs require certain qualifications," replied Kay. She picked up her paper cup of coffee and stood up. "It was nice meeting you, Joyce. You live in the neighbourhood I assume. You must have lots of friends or family to keep you living in the area."

"I used to," answered Joyce, not wanting to give this young woman any further information, and certainly none about her friends. "I got used to this coffee shop and try to come here on the weekends."

"Sounds wonderful to have that flexibility in life," stated Kay. "I'll be on my way."

Watching as the young woman left, Joyce didn't stop observing her as she met outside with a man with long dark hair. They both looked at her several times before they turned the other direction. Her attention diverted by the sound of her phone ringing, Joyce looked at the call display and answered then looked back up, no longer seeing the young woman or the man.

"Bucky?" she asked. "Can you come to the coffee shop? Something weird just happened and I don't want to go home by myself." She shook her head at his questions. "Please, just come here. I won't go anywhere until you arrive."

While she waited, Joyce wondered if she had interpreted the situation correctly. Not once did the woman say or do anything threatening but the occasional flash of something dark in her eyes was an indicator of an undercurrent that Joyce hadn't seen since she had been a school librarian. She had seen that same look on students who were on a precipice, either close to reaching a breaking point, or on the cusp of doing something extreme. It was a look that everyone in her school, from the principal down to the teaching assistants, were always on alert for; that one student that could suddenly turn violent and harm either themselves or others. While she waited, she continued to drink her tea but the pleasure she had from her initial taste was overshadowed by the sense of dread she was feeling now after this initially innocuous encounter.

Ten minutes after the phone call she saw Bucky approaching the door of the coffee shop from outside. He stepped in, quickly located her and sat in the chair across. Joyce almost felt like crying when she first saw him and when he took her hands in his she did feel considerably relieved.

"Sweetheart," he said soothingly. "Your hands are like ice. What happened?"

She began telling him about ordering the tea latte and the young British woman commenting about it then the increasing suspicion she had that this young woman had ulterior motives for talking to her.

"What did she look like?" he asked.

"Mixed race heritage," said Joyce. "Lots of freckles, a nice smile, that British accent. Her hair was very curly, red in colour."

Even though Bucky didn't say anything out loud Joyce could tell with more of her description that he was bothered by the encounter. He started looking out the windows of the coffee shop, scanning the people who were out and about as the rain had now stopped and the sun was coming out.

"Bucky, you know who she is, don't you?" asked Joyce.

"I have a good idea," he said, then he took his phone out and texted someone. It took several moments before he received a reply then he clicked on a link and held his phone out to her. "Was it this person?"

Joyce looked, confirming it was the woman in the coffee shop. "Yeah, that was her. Who is she?"

He swore as he let out his breath, then put his hand up and texted back to the person who sent him the picture. "She's Karli Morgenthau, the leader of the Flag Smashers." Joyce couldn't help gasping and he took her hand again. "Don't panic. She already contacted Sam's sister before and although she didn't threaten her outright, she made it clear that she knew where Sarah and her boys were. I think this was a message for me. Somehow, she's figured out you're a friend. You need to go somewhere else, away from Brooklyn, somewhere safe."

"What do you mean?"

He interrupted her. "I'm saying that I don't want anything to happen to you, alright?" He looked down at his hands. "You matter to me and somehow, she's figured that out. She doesn't want either Sam or I to be dealing with them." Frustrated, he took another breath before lowering his voice. "The day we took the shield off of John Walker was the day she killed his friend. She sent Sam and I on a wild goose chase to isolate him, so they could take him out. By the time we figured it out and found them, he and his friend were in over their head, fighting against her and several of the others. She picked his friend up and threw him against a pillar, killing him instantly. It's what made Walker go over the edge and kill that Flag Smasher in front of all those witnesses. If she did something to you, I'm not sure I would react any differently."

"Where should I go?" she asked. "I don't want to bring my kids in on this because they'll ... you know."

"Do you have a friend you can stay with? Maybe go on a trip?"

She nodded. "A friend just asked if I wanted to do a last-minute cruise," she said. "I was going to talk to you, make sure you would be okay without me."

He smiled. "I think I can manage. We'll go back to your place, and you make those arrangements. If you want, I can stay with you until you go." He thought for a moment. "They must have followers in New York."

A chill made Joyce shiver as she looked at the others in the coffee shop. Any one of them could be a supporter of the Flag Smashers. For a moment, she wondered if they had watched her for some time. The woman had never been in the coffee shop before, of that Joyce was certain as she would have remembered those incredible freckles and curly red hair. Bucky was also observing everyone inside the coffee shop then he looked outside again, studying everyone who was close by. After several minutes he seemed to focus his attention on a couple of men who were sitting on a bench across the street. Although they were both people watching everyone that approached near them, they also looked back at the coffee shop often.

"I want you to go to the ladies' room," he said to Joyce, in a low voice. "I know for a fact there's a door back there that opens to an alleyway."

"How would you know that?" asked Joyce.

A little smirk appeared before he looked at her with some seriousness. "I always know my exits in every place I go. It's a habit that I still have from my HYDRA days. Just in case my primary exit is blocked so that I still have an alternative."

"It's always a part of you?"

He nodded, then smiled. "It's okay, you'll be alright. You wait inside the bathroom with the door locked. I'm going out this door and see if they follow me. If they do, I'll lead them on a wild goose chase. If they don't, I'll hail a cab nearby, and have the driver come down the alley. I'll text you to come out that back door and directly into the cab. Once I'm satisfied that we're not being followed we'll go back to your place." He looked closely at Joyce again but this time he put his hand on hers. "I won't let them hurt you. You have to trust me on that."

Picking up her umbrella and newspaper Joyce went to the back of the coffee shop and entered the ladies' room, locking the door behind her. Bucky returned her dishes to the tray left for customers, then headed out the door. Briefly, he scanned the area again then began walking. A block away he stopped to talk to an acquaintance, using the opportunity to scan the area. Neither man had followed him, and he excused himself then hailed a taxi on the next block. Directing him to the alley behind the coffee shop he texted Joyce. Within seconds the back door opened and she hurried out the door. Reaching over to the taxi's back door, Bucky opened it for her then told the driver to go as soon as she was inside. As the taxi pulled away, he looked out the back window, then turned around when he saw the two men come out the back door of the coffee shop and look around. By then the taxi was already at the end of the alley and turning onto the street, hopefully far enough away that they didn't see Bucky's face. Just in case, he directed the driver to take a roundabout route back to Joyce's, giving him the cash for the amount already on the meter, as proof that he intended to pay. By the time they arrived at her home he was satisfied that they hadn't been followed.