Back To Brookes // back to barnes bk2

12: capes

"And I'll see you in a few days. Here."

"And I'll see you when you get back. Safe."

He kissed my forehead and I kissed his nose. Clint just stood back and smiled, knowing how much we needed the moment.

And with that, Clint handed me the keys to a copter and said goodbye. I nodded and waved, clenching my jaw as my stomach turned. God, please bring him back safe. And me. I'd appreciate it.

_____

     A copter to the hills in Cincinnati (or, rather, the slightly-higher-ground) then a transport car disguised as a cab to a neighborhood of condos in Cleveland. I felt like a teenager in high school fretting over my First Day outfit as I pulled the huge leather hood over my head. It was spring in Ohio and I was dressed . . . like a superhero. Or vigilante, rather? Like a Super Emo.

How the Avengers made it safely around location to location is beyond me. It's impossible. And probably uncomfortable. Maybe everyone else was okay, being enhanced or in really cool gear but poor normal Clint probably hated every second of transport. So did I. Big leather coat and bulky clothes and clunky boots . . . Ridiculous is what it was. Poor Natasha. Catsuit all year.

And I'd never heard any of them complain about the weird moments before they actually begin fighting or being in the action. I was walking around this complex repeating the address for a solid five minutes until I found it. And then I had to calm down. Amygdala was ready and rearing to go, but she had no place here. This wasn't open combat, this was just a quiet mission from Bucky.

There was a book. A stupidly obvious red book with a star like the one on his arm. A book with ancient secrets of Hydra, ones that could potentially bring Bucky to his knees. All he knew was the last person he knew to have the book, so I looked into the records Natasha leaked in 2014 and found him quickly. In Cleveland. Where Bucky was hidden for the longest time.

But, back to the point, this wasn't open combat unless our man made an appearance, and Amygdala had no place in a quiet neighborhood in Cleveland. I wasn't even sure Maisie did but here I was anyway. Because I'm stupid, and agreed to fight. Because I'm stupidly in love with a stupid man who wanted to fight. Because he's stupid.

I inhaled deeply and bent down at the knob to pick the lock, only to find it was already unlocked. I stood up and crept in, Glock 43 ready to kill if needed. It was dark and messy and very quiet, except for one noise. Like a faucet. Not a dripping faucet, but an actively turned-on faucet. My heart rate picked up as my nerves calmed in contradiction. Calm like a steady soldier trained in these positions for years and years, aware like a scared girl wishing she was at home in Albany.

I searched every room on the main level. No faucet. No running water. No humans. I crept down the stairs to the basement, feeling immediately nauseous as the sight in front of me. The basement was flooding after what must have been at least a week of the faucet running. The faucet our rotting man was dunked upside down in. Calm like a soldier who's seen worse, Maisie.

I continued down the stairs until I stood in the few inches of water. The basement was so musky I could barely breathe, and mixing with the smell of cadaverine and putrescine made it hundreds of times worse. I gave up a silent prayer of thanks for my iron stomach. I sloshed around, checking behind every corner and in every possible hiding spot for anyone else, then set to work. I pulled a camera pen from my pocket and took shots of the body, the stacks of boxes and books, and anything else I could get a clear look at in the dark. I left the faucet on, I couldn't tamper with anything but the boxes.

My search went on for hours and hours with no results. Well, plenty of results. Great results. Files on files about Bucky and Hydra and things very capable of destroying them at their source, but no book. Nothing. And that was a little more than concerning. If this man was the last person Bucky knew to have it, and he didn't have it, it was bad news for us. I went upstairs to do a quick run-through, then back down, when a table in the corner caught my eye. A few files and and booklets, and right on the very top wasn't the book, but a faint red dye outline where the book would've been. Convenient. Well, if the book was still there, that'd be more convenient, but I'd learned to mask my frustration with dry sarcasm, so it was convenient.

I took more pictures and grabbed the pile of files I'd deemed most important - with a team coming to retrieve anything else I needed in a weeks time - and hopped back up the stairs, pulling my hood back on and walking outside as if the girl in all black hadn't done anything suspicious. As I was walking down the sidewalk, an older woman smiled at me.

"Happy Easter, young lady." She said sweetly.

I smiled back in a professional manner. "Happy Easter, ma'am. He is risen."

"He is risen indeed!" She continued walking and so did I.

As I slid into the transport "cab" I pursed my lips. I shuffled through the files, reading about Bucky and the wars he fought in as himself or otherwise, and had to choke back a dry laugh. Happy Easter. Sitting in that cab as we drove back to Cinci I realized how out-of-whack my priorities were. I wondered what my parents were doing, if they missed me or not, if they were having a good Easter. I wondered if Bucky and I would ever have a normal holiday.

I flipped the camera pen full of photos of a bloodied and rotting man inbetween my fingers and revisited the story of Romeo and Juliet, of dying to escape. At my own accord, not Hydra's or SHIELD's. I wondered if all of this was worth one or two years I could cheerily say "Happy Easter" outside of my church with a purple baby and man I loved right beside me. I wondered how long I'd have to fight to find out. And then, of course, I thought about Bucky. I hoped he was okay.

I took the copter back to the farm and spilled over the files in our room until Laura and Nathaniel came to pull me downstairs for Easter dinner. She made a bunny cake and covered it in coconut. There were M&M's for eyes. I smiled genuinely. Lila showed me what was inside the eggs she collected earlier and Cooper gave me all the candy he didn't like.

Later on, we sat in the living room while the kids watched movies. I held Nathaniel as he drank his bottle and fell asleep and I cried. Tough soldier, tough soldier, tough soldier. 

"Maisie, dear, are you okay?" Laura asked as she finished braiding Lila's hair to keep it out of her face.

I kept looking down at Nathaniel and smiled bitter-sweetly. "Is this life as impossible as it seems?"

Laura sat down next to me and smiled, brushing Nathaniel's hair away from his face, then tilted my chin so my eyes would meet hers. "It's hard. It will always be hard. But, Mrs. Barnes, it is not impossible. That man loves you, and they can never promise they'll be back for dinner or back ever . . . but they do everything in their power to protect us. I can see it in Bucky's eyes that he loves you so much it hurts him, and that's how I know you'll be okay. And this life can be yours too." She chuckled. "Just find Bucky something that's not a farm. Maybe a toy train or something."

I laughed through a tear. "Thank you."

She nodded with a smile of sympathy. She went to aid Cooper in cleaning up his popcorn and I hugged Nathaniel a little tighter. Maybe waiting - maybe this fighting - would be worth it. Oh, I hoped it would be.