The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Two: The Technical Term Is "Assassin"

As Bucky watched the young woman walk away, he played back the brief interaction in his mind. She was scared of him, but she wasn't afraid. After all these years Bucky knew the difference. Her breath was heavy as if she had just run up the steps. Her shoulders held tension and her eyes darted back and forth between him, the knife in his hand, and the baseball bat she kept in the living area. But when she did make eye contact with him, she held it. And when she snatched that baseball bat, she gripped it with familiar ease.

He was glad that she wasn't afraid of him. Nonna was a kind woman, and probably too trusting. She needed someone like Mara who knew how to hold a baseball bat to look out for her.

"I'm sorry about Mara," Nonna said, walking over and exchanging the cutting board covered in diced tomatoes with a new board covered with fresh basil. "She's always hangry when she gets home from work. After she's showered and gotten some food she'll be sweet again."

"Where does she work again?" Bucky asked, wiping off the knife on a dish towel before rolling the leaves and resuming his cutting.

"She's a physical therapist, but with the hospital systems still recovering from the Blip, she works for several different hospitals and centers. She also subs in as a doctor when the need arises because of the shortage." Nonna explained as she seasoned the slowly cooking tomato sauce. "During the Blip, she practically lived in ERs around the city. I had to bring her meals every day, otherwise she didn't eat."

"Wow," Bucky said quietly.

"Were you blipped or did you get left behind?" Nonna asked.

"I was blipped," Bucky said, his voice flat.

"Hmm," Nonna murmured. "I'm not sure which is worse: getting left behind or coming back to a world you don't recognize."

"I've had to come back so many times that I think I adjusted faster than most," Bucky admitted, not fully thinking through what he was saying before he said it. Nonna looked over at him, her brow knit. "I- I mean from my deployments," Bucky added hurriedly.

"You served?" Nonna exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "My grandson served! He was a Marine!"

Bucky smiled tightly and felt his dog tags like a noose. "I was in the Army."

"Well, God bless you," Nonna said, squeezing his left shoulder just an inch away from the fissure where metal met flesh. But she had no idea and kissed him on the cheek as well. "We need good men protecting us from bad."

"I just-" Bucky's voice caught. He couldn't accept her praise, after all, for years he had served those bad men. "I just did what I could." Yes, that was fair. He couldn't always do what was right, but he did what he could.

"Alexander came from a long line of military men," Nonna mused, turning back to the sauce. "My father served in World War Two, in the Air Force. And my husband served in the Second Korean War, and my son served but was never sent overseas, and then Alexander."

"You must be very proud," Bucky said, slowing down his movements, making sure to not bruise the basil with his left hand.

"Oh, I am," Nonna said, her voice a little sad. "He served in Iraq and-" she paused and looked down at the sauce. "And even though he didn't make it home from his second tour, I know that he was happy to serve his country." He looked over at her and saw a tear run down her cheek and drop into the sauce. She quickly rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and looked over at Bucky, a strained smile on her face.

"Well, God bless you," she repeated.

They stayed quiet, Nonna's cheeriness diminished by the memory of her grandson. She occasionally glanced at the folded flag in its case hanging on the wall. It was surrounded by pictures, some of them of young children, others of a young man with a face that Bucky wished he didn't recognize. Mara was featured on the wall too, her arms always wrapped around Alexander and a smile on her face. Bucky studied her face. She was much younger in those pictures, her face free of furrowed brows and scared eyes. There was one picture, one of the largest on the wall, of the young man and woman in a tender embrace.

"You said Mara was your granddaughter?" Bucky asked. Nonna looked up and saw that he was staring at the picture of Mara and Alexander kissing.

"My almost-granddaughter-in-law," she clarified. "She and Alexander grew up together, started dating senior year of high school, got engaged before his first tour, and were supposed to be married before his second. Even if they weren't going to get married, she's practically my granddaughter."

"I see," Bucky said quietly. A fiance. That wasn't in the file. But if they hadn't married before his second tour then she wouldn't be. Yet she had lost someone too. Another name for his list.

"Bah!" Nonna exclaimed. "Enough sadness." She grabbed the bottle of vodka that she had been splashing into the sauce and poured two fingers worth each into two cups. She set one down in front of Bucky and before he could say anything threw her drink back with practiced ease.

"Nonna!" an exasperated voice called out. Mara was standing in the doorway, her hair wet.

"Here, " Nonna said, pouring three fingers into the glass and sticking it in Mara's hand. "Drink this. You'll complain less." She turned and looked at Bucky, his glass untouched. "You too!"

Bucky looked to Mara who was watching his interaction with her Nonna with narrowed eyes. She sighed and drank her vodka quickly. "It's like you said," she told him, wiping her mouth, "she's impossible to say no to."

Bucky followed her lead and took his drink without complaint. Mara walked past him into the kitchen and grabbed some supplies to set the table. Bucky quickly stood up and handed the cutting board with the thinly sliced basil to Nonna who pinched his cheek affectionately before gesturing for him to help Mara.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Mara said quietly as she set out the placemats and he followed with the napkins. "I just- Nonna trusts people and I always worry one day she'll trust the wrong person."

"I understand," Bucky reassured her. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

She laughed and shook her head. "I won't lie, when I saw you sitting at that table holding a knife you looked like a serial killer for a moment."

Bucky masked his wince with a chuckle. "I'm no serial killer." Assassin is the correct term, he thought before strangling that idea and forcing it back under the floorboards it had creeped out of.

"But if you were, would you tell me?" Mara asked, just a hint of bite in her voice.

"No, I suppose not." They moved on to silverware and cups.

"If you are going to kill me, we should be properly introduced," she said, the bite mostly gone. She turned to him and stuck out her hand. "I'm Mara Anderson."

"Bucky. Bucky Wolfe," he answered, shaking her hand.

"Bucky?" She asked, an eyebrow arched. "But Nonna said-"

"She told me that she didn't believe in nicknames and demanded my 'real name,'" Bucky explained.

"She was like that with Alex too," Mara said, a small smile on her face. "She was the only one who ever called him Alexander."

"Well if the name Alexander was good enough for his grandfather-" Nonna began,

"It's damn well better than good enough for him!" Mara finished, adopting Nonna's slight accent and mirroring the older woman's waving of the spoon in her hand. Nonna stopped and scowled when she realized that Mara was mimicking her mannerisms

"Bambina irrispettosa," she grumbled, turning back to the stovetop.

Mara laughed and shrugged. "You practically raised me, Nonna. You have no one to blame for my sass but yourself."

"Bah!" Nonna exclaimed, giving the pasta one last aggressive stir. "I should have never let you watch those daytime shows with me. They filled your head with snark."

"But you balanced it out with sweetness," Mara said teasingly, giving the old woman a quick hug from behind before helping her carry over the bowls with steaming pasta. Nonna grabbed a loaf of bread from the breadbox on the counter, which Bucky obligingly sliced for her. The three of them sat around the table, Nonna at the head with Bucky to her right and Mara to her left. The smell of rich sauces and homemade bread wafted through the room as the radio played another song that Bucky didn't know, but didn't dislike.