Secretive - Bucky Barnes

66 || Your Failed Mission

[Nova]
After having finished breakfast, James brought the rests back and went for the gym. I wanted him to promise me to keep himself out of the mission, to be safe at home and go back to work. He did not listen. Instead, he tried to assure me there barely was something that could happen to him, him having such missions not daily, but then and now an equally dangerous one would come to his social job. Like once, he almost starved in Russia, years ago.

We touched on the topic of my brother speaking that language to him, and he explained bad memories would be woken up, everything would have to do with his year abroad, three years ago, and that Jonas wanted to dig out experiences that could consume him. I believed James without a doubt; I perfectly well can imagine some trigger words leading into another one of his panic attacks. And with all the bad dreams and nightmares hunting him in the dark when I am not around, I did not dare to listen which associations are connected to the words. It would have broken me another time, as if someone fired a shot right into my merely with plasters sticked heart.

Freshly showered and still numb internally, I walk through the entire level to search for the others. James told me they already were working on the information they had gathered, trying to find out more about the connection to Hydra, their whereabouts and in general, how to undertake them. All rooms are brightly lighted by the sun falling through the huge panorama windows everywhere, making me wonder how much Tony spends for the members of housekeeping staff. 

I cannot find a soul in the living room, nor on the corridor. There are no sounds coming from any of the private rooms. They probably all went to the conference chambers on the other level, but I have walked too far now to spare the kitchen and simply take the elevator on the other side of the corridor; as if risking to miss someone that helped me figuring out at which point we stand in the mission, what further steps are, and simply doing anything to keep my brother's ghost from haunting me.

As it ends, I am rewarded. The sooner I come to the kitchen, the louder the noises of the radio become due to the non-existent door. Without hesitation, I enter it.

And take back every mention of rewards.
Natasha leans on the counter, eating porridge out of a glass bowl. With her jeans and a green shirt she is more properly dressed than I; my body is covered by one of James's red shirts, and a white jogging pants that is tighter around my waist, growing more loosen on the knees.

To my defence: Who could have known the dresscode for working at home? The messy bun on my head, a pathetic try of mine to cover all the baby hair standing up in every direction after I blow-dried it, does not make it any better than the glasses I wear, the upper part of the frame straighter, the lower curved largely.

»Morning« I greet, manners coming out before I can have second-thoughts. Not that it is bad to have them in front of potential enemies, though. Coming from a good home is something everyone should be proud of in front of anyone.

Furthermore, it makes sense to get on a level of toleration with Natasha. If I really continue to live in the Tower, really try to become a part of the team - or work for them, however - I am in no mood to continue our little fights.

She, obviously, is in one. Only lifting her right brow, she does not even glance at me, stubbornly fixing the black monitor on the wall. From the radio, the speaker currently talks about Wall Street, and I have a hard time to believe her to be interested in this. 

»Do you know where the others are? I wanted to join, help them collecting information.«

Again, no answer. While chewing, she whips her head, getting the hair out of the food and picking in it right after. In the blink of an eye, several dark purple bruises are shown on her neck, forming a half moon in four dots. Through the shake of her skull, her neck moves as well, and I can spot another single bruise placed in the middle of the first and the second on the other side.