Drive. ~James Buchanan Barnes

Chapter 5

Two nights go by slowly and mostly quietly. He does not sleep until I do, but each time I try to fall asleep I feel his eyes on me.

Needless to say, it makes actually sleeping difficult.

So, I roll over with my back facing him, and stay still for god knows how long, and pretend until I hear his own labored breathing even out.

He sleeps on top of the covers, arms glued to his sides, legs straight out. He wakes up quite a bit at night, always glancing at me to make sure I'm still asleep. I've heard that soft beds tend to bother veterans when they come home. I suppose that must be why he's so restless.

On the second morning, before light, I toss him a bag of chips, a honey-bun, and the other coke. All of which he catches easily, all of which he seems reluctant to eat.

I don't know what they fed him in Hydra, but I suppose they must have treated him well. He was their most valuable weapon, right?

He eats slowly as he watches me flutter around the room, picking up and packing anything we brought with us, and stealing a couple of soaps because I don't know when we'll get another chance to obtain some.

Once all is said and done, I turn to him and grab the room key, "If you think you can make it to the car go for it. If not, wait here."

And before he can get up from the bed, I am out the door. The front desk is unmanned, which I am totally fine with, so I put the key down and left.

I am about to turn away, but the bowl of butterscotch candies which sits temptingly on the front desk is too much to bear. I grab a handful for the road.

The Soldier, Bucky, is just making it to the door of the room when I get back, so I open the car door for him to climb into and squeeze past him to grab the items I packed. I throw everything but the first aid kit in the trunk.

I see him waver slightly as he braces himself against the hood, so, slowly I make my way to him and wrap my arm around his waist. I'm not exactly pleased about having his prosthetic arm over my shoulders, since it's heavy, and just scary in general, but I don't say anything or show that I mind.

I don't really do much supporting as I'm getting him into the car, it's more like he's supporting himself, and I'm acting as a crutch.  Eventually, he gets in and I hand him the first aid kit and the rest of his "breakfast."

My hand hesitates to open my door.  Am I really doing this?  Am I really so stupid to resign myself to being a hostage? 

I get in the car.

I find him examining one of my keychains, a scrabble tile with the letter V. 

"What does V stand for?" He asks, dropping it.

I start the car and begin backing out of the lot, "Maybe it doesn't stand for anything.  Maybe I just really like Roman numerals."

"I don't do well with sarcasm."  He mutters.

I laugh slightly as I pull out onto the road, "At least you can recognize it.  V is the first letter of my name."

"Violet?"

"No."

"Victoria?"

"Nope."

His brow furrows in the dark, "Vivienne?"

"No.  Good guess though."

"Veronica?"

"It isn't a very common name."

"Vashti?"

"...Okay more common than that."

I glance over at him and realize that I'm literally playing guessing games with a criminal, who also happens to be my kidnapper who I'm not even sure is kidnapping me right now since I'm pretty willing to go along.

Unconsciously, I let out a startled laugh at the thought.

"Viola?"

"Isn't that an instrument?"

"People can be named Viola."

"Do you give up?"

"No."

I wait in silence for his next guess.

"Vanessa?"

"Nope."

"Valerie?"

"You're getting too mainstream again."

"Venus?"

"Good one.  No."

We're on the freeway now, we drive past the state border.

"Virginia?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to just tell you?"

"Yes."

He's looking at me now.  Studying me as though that will give him a hint.

"...Vera?"

"Negative."

"How many more V names are there?" He says, slightly frustrated.

"You've eliminated several of them already.  I'm sure you'll stumble across it eventually."  I tell him with a grin, "Don't feel bad.  Only a couple people have actually guessed it."

"Valentine?"

"No."

"Valkyrie?"

"Oh that's a good one! No."

"...Fine."

"Fine?"

"Just tell me."

My grin gets considerably bigger, and I chuckle slightly at how put-out he seems about not guessing it. 

"My name is Verity."

"Verity?"

"Yup."

"Verity." He tests, "I like it."

"Thanks," I reply, "Have you picked one out yet?"

"What?"

"A name?"

He glances at me, but quickly looks down to fiddle with his weapons belt, "I guess Bucky will do."

I nod slowly, "You sure?  I could call you by your first name if you'd prefer."

"Bucky is fine.  What's my first name?"

I wait a moment before answering, making sure he's calm, "James."

He is silent for a few minutes.

"I think I like Bucky more."