BUCKY:
I don't know why I agreed to stay with her. The agent sitting on her motorbike in front of me was definitely not the first person I had in mind to help me. Not four days ago, she was pointing a gun at my head, defeating me in my mission to bring her to my commander. Other than her exceptional fighting skills and marksmanship and her being one of few agents with supersoldier serum, she wasn't all that special. She was just another agent of SHIELD. But I wasn't going to lie, she was a very pretty girl. Long red hair, around average height, beautiful yet cold green eyes. However, behind the coldness in her eyes, there was a certain kindness I didn't understand. It was the same kindness I saw when she hesitated to pull the trigger on the battlefield. A kindness I recognized from somewhere that I couldn't exactly pinpoint.
Now, I was silently sitting behind the agent on the back of her motorcycle, having no choice but to lean up against her back and shift uncomfortably when I felt too close to her. She only drove like it was the most normal thing to have my hands on her waist and my weight on her back, and I didn't understand how she could remain so calm. Like she had done something like this before. Like she had helped someone like me before.
The drive was short, because not moments after we got on the bike, we were parked in a garage below an apartment building next to a black sporty-looking car. She informed me that this was the car she was talking about and that we would be taking it from now on instead of her motorcycle. That was a relief. As pretty as she was, I wasn't overly fond of sitting so close to someone I barely knew. I followed her in silence towards the elevator, where she pushed the button for the fourteenth floor and let the door shut. Although the area was silent, I couldn't help but feel like you could cut the tension with a knife in the room. It was probably one of the longest elevator rides I had ever been on. Finally, the doors opened on the fourteenth floor, and she brisked out of it quickly. I followed closely behind her until she stopped at a door labelled 1408 and put the keys in the lock. When the door opened, the first thing I noticed was how clean the place was. Almost like she had cleaned up after a gruesome murder. I didn't take her to be so tidy.
"Home sweet home," she said as she shut the door and locked it behind me. I stood at the entrance, just taking in my surroundings. She took off her boots and put them on the shoe rack below the hall table beside the front door. Then, she hung her jacket up in the closet that was perfectly colour coded. She placed her keys in the dish at the front table and looked over at me, "take your boots off and put them on the shoe rack, and your coat in the closet in between the green and grey coloured coats," she told me. Wow, this girl was really organized. I did as she pleased since I didn't want to upset her, and hung my coat where she had said to. I didn't want her to dread having a roommate more than she already did. "You can sit down if you'd like," she offered, "I'm gonna go have a smoke, and we'll talk about you living here after that, okay?" I nodded, and she left the room through the large glass doors to her balcony to go have her cigarette.
Didn't people still smoke in their houses? I remembered that from the forties, I remembered the smell of cigarette smoke in the houses like nothing else. Thank god that ended. I remembered when I was younger, my parents smoking in the house so much that it would create a thick, black fog. I hated waking up to the grey, dry, foul-smelling fog when I was little. Maybe that was why I wasn't ever really compelled to smoke like almost everyone else I knew back then.
Other than Steve and my parents and siblings, I couldn't really remember anyone else from my past. I remembered where I lived in Brooklyn, but I didn't remember anything in my childhood that would've happened. Well, other than just now, when I remembered that little detail about cigarette smoke. But hating smoking didn't have any importance in my life, so why was I remembering that instead of the thing that had been on my mind since we left the museum earlier today; who was the girl that I knew all those years ago?
In all likelihood, the girl I knew had probably passed away already, and if not, she'd be almost a hundred years old. But what frustrated me the most was that I couldn't remember a single thing about her. Not a name, or even what she vaguely looked like. I don't know if I would have remembered her had the Agent not taken me to the museum today. But at the mention of the words "I made a promise to a doll back home, and I intend to keep it," I remembered one thing; the promise I made her. I promised to come back to her after the war. And I never kept that promise. That I regretted more than anything.
The sliding doors opening broke me out of my thoughts. The Agent walked back inside and shut the door behind her and walked over to the barstools at the kitchen counter where I sat. She sat down on the one next to mine and sighed.
"I figured that if we're going to be living together, we should try to come up with some house rules or something," she suggested. It wasn't a bad idea, but I guess I didn't really know how she lived already, and I thought that living somewhere with protection was better than being on the run forever. But still, boundaries were definitely a good thing, even if it wasn't my home, "I generally get up at six o'clock every morning. I take a shower and get dressed and ready. I'm usually done by six-thirty, then I have a cup of coffee and relax. At around six-forty-five, I make breakfast and I'm out the door at seven for work. I'm rather persnickety about my morning routine, and I really don't like it when something fucks it up," she told me, "when I finish in the bathroom, you can take a shower. I'll cook for now, but once you get settled we can take shifts for meals," she stated. Although I didn't know how to cook, I thought that was fair. I figured she'd teach me over the next few days.
I did have to get used to the modern days. There were things I had heard from the HYDRA guards outside sometimes, but it didn't often give me an insight into the modern world. What gave me the most insight was the odd time I was given a mission. Even though I was focused on one thing, I found myself watching the crowds go by as the decades flew past me. I watched as women became independent in society and when they joined the workforce. I watched as men cooked and cleaned in their homes with children at their side, waiting for their wives to come home from work. I watched the world change as the decades flew by. I watched as I missed every year, every change, every new thing. And yet, I still couldn't help but miss my old life.
"So I guess we can move onto some rules then," she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "rule number one, clean up after yourself. I'm sure that's an easy one to follow," she stated. I nodded in agreement, even though I particularly disagreed with that last part of it. I wasn't a messy person, HYDRA never tolerated that. But I wasn't the type to colour-code my front closet either. I thought that it may not be so easy for me depending on what her version of clean was,
"rule number two, any expectations SHIELD lays out for us, follow. It'll cost me my job if you don't. As I get to know you and as SHIELD begins to trust you, those expectations will change," she told me. Okay, that wasn't so bad, and I guess I didn't have much choice in that one, "this entails that until my boss says differently, you have to go everywhere with me except for when either one of us has therapy or we're at SHIELD headquarters. On Tuesdays, I have to take you to a therapist set up for you through SHIELD once a week. I see mine Thursdays at HQ when I have to go into the office once a week to fill out a mission report. For that whole day, you won't see much of me, so you follow my boss' orders," So basically she had to babysit me? I didn't like that, but I guessed this was the price of taking up her offer. I was a wanted man, and the only thing that stood between me and being arrested was her. I could deal with it as long as this wasn't the rest of my life.
"And my final and most important rule, you will never, ever, under any circumstances, go into my bedroom. Not if someone breaks in, not if the building is on fire, nothing. If anything happens, I'll know about it and get out on my own. If you need something from me and I'm in there, knock and I'll come out. This one isn't negotiable," she stated firmly. Now this one made my stomach churn a little bit. She had just made it clear that there was something she didn't want me to know and to just abide by that. I didn't know what it was, or how bad it could be. I didn't think she was secretly a HYDRA agent, but I didn't want to rule that out completely either. It was still possible, even though it would have been against orders to take me to that museum. But there was one thing I knew; when the time came that the rules with SHIELD changed, I was going into that bedroom. I couldn't trust her until I knew what was in there that she so desperately wanted to keep from me. For now, I had to just keep my head down and follow the rules. But I needed her to trust me in order to get to that room, "can you agree to these?" She broke me out of my thoughts.
"Yes," I quietly agreed.
"Great. If you don't mind, you and I need to go shopping. I don't really have any men's clothes here, and I think it would be best if you picked out what you wanted, okay?" She asked. She was right, I didn't have anything other than what I was wearing now, and my suit. I needed a least a couple of weeks' worth of clothes. I didn't really want to shop, but this would probably be the first time I got to pick my own clothes in seventy years rather than the stuff that HYDRA gave me. I didn't want to say no to the opportunity.
"Okay," I nodded. She partially smiled at me and turned around to put her shoes back on. I did the same in silence, just thinking about where she would take me. Probably some kind of mall in the area or something. This time, she grabbed her car keys and motioned for me to come with her. I put on my boots again and walked out of the apartment with her. I followed her downstairs to the garage and this time, I got in the passenger's seat of her new-looking car. We pulled out of the communal garage and she drove into the city.
The complete silence of the car ride gave me time to think. Not much, since it only took twenty minutes to get to the mall, but enough to wonder about the woman who was driving beside me. From what I had known about her so far, she was a SHIELD agent, pretty, a clean-freak, and above all, mysterious. She was kind yet cold, giving yet harsh, and confusing as all hell. I knew that she could fight like no other woman I had ever fought against, and still, there was more to her than her SHIELD training. I sensed that she was just as uncomfortable with me in her life as I was with her being in mine. But past that, I knew nothing about her.
Just as I knew nothing about myself. The only things I definitely remembered about my past were my name, birthday, and serial number from the military. I wasn't sure about anything else. Yes, I knew Steve was supposed to be my childhood best friend, but I didn't remember that. I remembered what I was told to remember, by the facts on the boards in the Smithsonian Museum. I was told to remember the girl I loved, but I had no memory of her. Not even a name. The difference was with Steve, the familiar feeling of connection was there when I saw him again. When his name was said, I felt that feeling again. So I knew that I knew him. But I didn't remember anything about our friendship.
She pulled up to the parking lot of what looked like a shopping centre and parked in an empty spot near the entrance. In silence, we got out of the car and walked inside the building's doors. It was very bright in the mall, with lots of lights, and stores advertised towards women. She took me into a place called "Macy's" and we began to walk through the men's section.
I discovered that I wasn't really one for shopping, it was more boring than anything. But I knew I had to get some clothes. The Agent let me pick whatever I wanted, which consisted of many long-sleeved and half sleeved shirts. I picked out quite a few jackets in dark green, black and navy blue, and only a couple of t-shirts for when she and I were just in the house. Most were plain shirts, that were black, white and grey. But she made me take at least a couple of coloured shirts. A couple of dark blue, orange, green and red shirts as well. I guessed she wanted to help me blend in. I was thankful that she let me grab a bunch of undergarments on my own, despite the orders she had to follow.
For pants, I went to a place called "American Eagle", where I got a bunch of pairs of jeans that the Agent called "dark wash". I didn't really know what that meant, but I went along with it. The jeans were comfortable to say the least, but I noticed a lot of rips in the jeans around me, that cost more than the ones without the rips. Who in their right mind wanted to buy jeans with holes in them? As I thought this, I noticed a lot of people, including the Agent who wore the damaged jeans. Was it a new kind of popular clothing? It looked like it, so I decided to pick up a pair of jeans with holes in them. I got a couple of pairs of shorts, some grey and black sweatpants, but I also noticed many of the men around me wearing a tighter type of jean, and I decided to try to get a pair of those as well.
We went to the fitting area, where the agent had me try on all the different pants we picked up. Most fit fine and looked good, and the Agent had me come out and show her what they looked like, but when it came to putting on the tight jeans, that's when I had problems. The jeans were so tight that they barely fit over my thighs, and doing them up- well, let's just say it hurt. When I came out of the dressing room to show the Agent, who very quickly noticed that I wasn't walking properly, her once stoic expression was gone and replaced by a wide grin, followed by a giggle, which quickly turned to laughter.
"Never put those on again," she joked through her laughter. I felt my cheeks heat up against my will as I quickly scurried back to the changeroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I realized she was right; I looked absolutely ridiculous. I decided on getting quite a few pairs of jeans and sweatpants, a couple of pairs of shorts that I liked, and a few baseball caps.
Next, she took me to get some shoes in some little shoe store that I couldn't remember the name of. She told me about some of the newer, more popular styles of today, and told me just to get a few basic things, like sneakers, boots, dress shoes, and maybe a pair of what many people today called "slides". I didn't really know what they were, but the Agent pointed a pair out to me in the shoe store. After that, the Agent grabbed a shoebox labelled "Adidas" in size twelve and passed it to me.
"They're sneakers. Comfy too. I'll grab you a pair of Nike's to try on too. Pick whichever pair you like more," she told me before taking off to find other shoes for me. I did as she said, and opened the box to see a pair of black sneakers with three grey stripes on the sides and a thicker white sole. They looked pretty comfortable, so I decided to put them on. Automatically, I didn't even want to bother with the other ones the Agent was bringing over. These were the most comfortable shoes I had even worn. Could I put these soles in the boots for my suit? I took the shoes off and put them back in the box just as the Agent came back with a few more shoeboxes, "I couldn't find the Nike's in your size, but I found some other stuff," she put the three boxes down in front of me. I didn't really know what a "Timberland" or "Sketchers" was, but I trusted her judgement when it came to modern things. She seemed pretty young after all. But as of now, that was about all I trusted her with.
As we finished up at the mall, it was getting close to supper time. We got back in the car, and she began to drive around the city once again. I stared out the passenger window, looking at all the people walking around. They were so absorbed in their busy lives, on their busy cellular devices, trying to go somewhere that was clearly important to them. But they were so wrapped up in their own little worlds that they failed to notice the amount of HYDRA spies around, looking for me, and possibly the woman next to me, driving the car. Clearly, they wanted her for some reason, likely because she was one of three surviving people in the world with super-soldier serum pumped through her veins.
"So, what do you want for dinner?" The Agent broke me out of my thoughts with her question. I didn't really know how to respond, I didn't know what people ate today. I met her with silence, unsure of what to ask for, "there's takeout, or we could go to a restaurant, or I could cook you something at home," she offered kindly. I didn't know what to say. Why was she being so nice to me? I thought she saw it as her only option for this assignment since she was being forced to live under the same roof as me. Suddenly, she looked over at me while driving, "look, this whole 'living under my roof' thing isn't going to work if you don't actually talk to me. I'd prefer it if we could actually try and become friends because it would definitely speed up this process a lot faster. However, I have to write a report on your progress every week and it's going take a lot longer for you to be able to get out on your own if you don't at least try to work with me here," the brusque tone in her voice made it clear that she was getting tired of my lack of responses. But if I was being honest, not only did I not trust what could come out of my mouth, I didn't really know how to respond to her. She asked a lot of 'yes' or 'no' questions I could simply give one-word answers to. What did she want me to say? I barely knew her.
"Sorry," my voice was barely above a whisper. All I received back was a deep sigh as silence filled the area. She shifted back into her seat and continued to drive in silence. For the rest of the car ride, I just avoided looking at the woman next to me and found it better to just stare out the window at all the people again. I noticed more HYDRA agents walking around inconspicuously as we drove by, but the woman beside me didn't really seem to care. I wondered why. But I thought about it for a moment. Why not just ask? She wanted me to talk anyway, might as well start with something work-related.
"Agent Baker-"
"It's Briar," she cut me off.
"Briar," I corrected myself, "with the job you do, I assume you're not oblivious to all the agents walking around?" I asked her.
"There were more in the mall," she added. She's good.
"Shouldn't we be trying to evade them?" I questioned her methods.
"If we evaded them completely and just disappeared, both you and I would go on a wanted list, and people all over the world would be looking for us. I'd rather just hide in plain sight in the crowds of Washington DC, we're more likely to go unnoticed if we're closer to them than they think," she gave a decent reason for her way.
"I guess," I replied, staring out the window once again. She was definitely good at her job, no doubt about that. I think there's one thing I could rule out by now. She wasn't a HYDRA agent, and neither was the organization she was currently with. Despite the fall of SHIELD and HYDRA, there were still agents from both sides walking around and continuing the work of the two different organizations.
When we got to the apartment, she asked that I did the same thing as before; take off my shoes at the door and put them on the rack, hang up my coat in the colour coded order of the closet and put my stuff in my bedroom and put everything where it was supposed to go. Briar told me to get settled into my room while she made dinner, which was going to be something called 'ramen noodles', whatever that was. I folded and hung everything up that needed to be hung, and put away my shoes at the front. But for the rest of the afternoon, I stayed in my room and looked out the window, just thinking about what had happened over the last seventy years. Trying my hardest to remember certain things about my previous life. Before HYDRA and SHIELD, before things were complicated.
But I just couldn't remember it. I think I spent more time thinking about how I couldn't seem to remember anything than actually thinking about anything else. I must've spent hours doing that too because it only felt like minutes before I heard a knock on my bedroom door.
"Barnes? Your dinner is at the door," I heard her softly call, "let me know if you need anything," she stood at the door, awaiting an answer that was never going to come. The silence was followed by a sigh, and footsteps growing more distant as she walked away from the door. What time was it? I looked at the clock; ten pm. That late already? I knew that hours had passed by since the sun had gone down already, but I didn't think it was that late. It was then that I realized how hungry I was. I opened the door, picked up the dish on the floor in front of me, and shut it behind me. It looked like she had cooked chicken with a bunch of spices on it with rice and green beans. I took a bite of the chicken; damn, it was good. She could really cook; I ended up finishing it up in minutes.
When I finished, I left my room to go wash the dish in the sink and put it away. I expected to see my host in the living room watching the television or in her bedroom, but she was actually on the balcony, with a glass of wine in her left hand and a smoke in her right. She leaned over the ledge of the balcony with her head hanging. Although her back was towards me, I could sense sadness from that balcony. The door was cracked open, so I could feel a cool breeze blowing through the apartment. As I finished washing the dish quietly so that I would go unnoticed, I thought I heard a small sniffle come from the balcony. I jerked my head back towards the balcony, and quietly moved closer to the door, hoping to go undetected. As I got closer, I noticed her mumbling something to herself I couldn't quite catch.
She seemed sad. Not like earlier, where she was frustrated with me, but genuinely upset about something. I didn't know if it had to do with me, or with the mission from a few days ago, or just personal things, but I didn't think I needed to do any investigating, so I decided to just go back to my room for the night.
This went on for weeks. I'd wake up, shower, and get dressed, all the while the Agen- Briar, was cooking us breakfast. Then, depending on the day, I'd either go to therapy, sit around in my room all day, train in the gym in the apartment building, or go to the SHIELD building and do whatever the agent who had me for the day wanted. I didn't make many efforts to talk to the person I lived with. I didn't really trust her enough. She was a spy, how was I supposed to?
I didn't sleep much in the apartment either. When I slept I had nightmares, bad enough that I usually woke up screaming, if I woke up. Sometimes, I just yelled through my nightmares, unable to wake myself up. I felt bad for waking Briar up, so for the time being I just chose to fade in and out of consciousness. But my lack of sleep was really affecting me throughout the day. I noticed that my skills weren't as sharp and my senses were dull. I now knew what those HYDRA scientists meant when they said that having a regular sleep schedule was important.
But the one benefit I found about my choice of solitude was that when I was at peace, my memories came back faster. Over the weeks, I began to remember a lot about my family, how I had three younger siblings that I took care of. I remembered my parents, and how they taught me to aim high at everything. To set my sights for the stars, as they always told me. I remembered meeting Steve when we were in second and third grade, and how I defended him from bullies. That's how we became friends. I remembered Steve being small in stature, sickly and how he put newspapers in his shoes to look taller. I remembered his mom's name; Sarah. I think I remembered most of the first few years of life that a person could remember in those few weeks. But other than pieces of my early childhood, I only remembered HYDRA. I tried to repress those memories as much as I could, but when night fell, the dam in my head fell, and memories flooded in.
It was almost a month into my new living situation when things changed a bit between Briar and I. As I was just drifting off to sleep one night, I heard a chilling scream come from the room next door. My eyes shot open, and without hesitation, I stood up and grabbed a gun from the dresser beside me. I walked out of the room, and went up to the bedroom door before stopping at it. Then I remembered her most important rule: never, under any circumstances, go into her bedroom. I knew I wasn't supposed to, but her screams sounded like she was being tortured.
"BRIAR, YOU OKAY IN THERE?!" I yelled over her screams, hoping she could hear me. The only responses I got were screams. I was frustrated. She was leaving me with no other choice, "I'M COMING IN!" I warned. I opened the door, pointing the gun around the room, only to find her in her bed, thrashing. It was just a nightmare. I breathed a sigh of relief before walking next to her bed and bending down. I didn't want to touch her, it could only make the nightmare worse, so I only bent down next to her and began to call her name. I didn't think it would work, but there wasn't any harm in trying.
"Briar," I attempted to softly call. Much to my surprise, the thrashing and screaming stopped, "Briar, wake up," I tried again.
"Bucky?" She replied, her eyes still shut. Bucky? She never called me that. She only ever called me Barnes. Only Steve called me Bucky. Not that I complained, I wasn't overly fond of being referred to by my surname all the time, but I never really corrected her either. But why would she call me that? After that, she seemed at peace again, so I figured I'd get out of that room before she would wake up and yell at me for being in her room.
When I got back to my room and shut the door, I couldn't help but think of what had just happened. She was having a nightmare like mine, she called me by my nickname, and for some odd reason, she didn't want me in her room, ever. And there was no explanation for any of it. She seemed to be calmed by the sound of my voice, like she recognized me from somewhere. I mean, I lived with her, but we never really talked. It wasn't like I knew her like I knew Steve from so long ago. But it was just then that the flashback hit me.
...1930...
"Bucky!" A voice called my name. It was Steve from across the playground, with someone I had never seen before. A girl, who looked to be about nine or ten, with wavy red hair and bright green eyes. She was a little taller than Steve, and she wore a short-sleeved floral dress, and a pair of black mary-jane style shoes. Her hair was in a half-ponytail, half-down style. Steve and the girl ran towards me, before stopping in front of me.
"Is this the girl you were talking about, Stevie?" I asked my small best friend.
"I can speak for myself, thank you. I'm Madeline," she stuck her hand out for me to shake it.
"James," I shook the little girl's hand, "how old are you, Madeline?"
"Ten, but I'm a lot stronger than I look," she confidently smiled at me. I chuckled at the girl's statement, "and you, James?" She teased. This little girl had quite the spunk, and was quite cheeky.
"I'm thirteen," I replied with a smile. For a moment, she looked shocked.
"Thirteen?! I thought you were the same age as Stevie over here. Like eight or something," she snickered. I furrowed my brows and the statement and crossed my arms.
"Rude!" Steve laughed and playfully hit her arm. I was confused, Steve would usually come to my defence with this stuff. Mind you he'd get his arse handed to him, but he'd certainly try.
"And what does that make you, four?" I shot back. She only laughed at my comment.
"A boy of mighty wit, I see. You and I will get along just fine, James," she smiled at me. I began to laugh at Madeline's antics. She was fiery, like her hair. She wasn't like the other girls I knew, and I liked that about her.
"Call me Bucky, it's what my friends call me," I told her.
"Well then, Bucky, you can call me-"
...Present day...
I knew someone else. Someone I hadn't remembered until that moment. Was she important in my past? Probably not, otherwise, I would've remembered her by now. I tried my best to recall someone by that name, but I couldn't remember anyone. All I had was one, distinct memory of a redheaded little girl by that name. Maybe I could ask Steve about it? He would probably remember her if she was important. But if he didn't, I guess that also answered my question. Madeline, who were you to me?
The next morning, I woke up just as Briar was in the shower. I figured I'd try and make breakfast that morning, since I'd be waiting around anyway for her to make it. I was rather grateful that my parents had taught me a little bit about cooking, at least just morning meals. I often had to feed my younger siblings while my father went to work and my mother did her morning errands.
As I was making the scrambled eggs, I began to wonder if I should tell her the truth about the previous night. That I broke her number one rule. I figured she would be pissed off and want to throw me out, but I remembered that she couldn't. What was the worst she could do if I told her?
But I wondered the most about why she didn't want me in her room so badly. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary in there, which made me suspicious. If she had nothing to hide, why was she so insistent on this one thing? It could've just been that she was a very private person, but she was a spy. There was usually a reason behind everything. I had to be careful. Maybe telling her wasn't such a good idea after all.
"Oh, you made breakfast," Briar walked into the main room, seeming rather surprised at my gesture, "thank you,"
"No problem," I replied. I had been getting a little more comfortable talking to her in the last few weeks. But I could never really strike up a conversation with her either. I felt like I was almost overstepping a boundary if I tried, which I knew sounded stupid. She grabbed the plate of eggs, strawberries and yogurt and sat down at the bar stools across from me. But it was then that I noticed what she was wearing. A black silk robe that only reached her mid-thigh and was cut rather... low. Her long hair was still wet from her shower and she wore no makeup. Suddenly I found myself staring at her, and feeling a little flushed. She was a very beautiful woman.
"Hello? Barnes?" She waved her hand in front of me, clearly noticing that I had drifted off, "like what you see?" She asked sarcastically as she ate one of the strawberries on the plate.
"No!" I replied quickly, causing a brow to raise from her, "I mean yes!- Well I mean, not in that kind of-"
"No need to get your knickers in a twist over it, Barnes, I was just messing with you," she shrugged as she continued eating. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking about what I should say to her about the previous night. There was a silence
"Briar, I need to confess something," I began. Clearly, the sudden change of who was starting the conversation had surprised her, because her expression changed into one that was more attentive than before.
"Go on," she cocked her brow suspiciously and crossed her armed.
"Last night, I overheard you screaming. It woke me up-"
"Apologies, Barnes. I sometimes have the odd nightmare here and there," she excused the action.
"It's not that. I thought something happened so I grabbed a gun and knocked on your bedroom door to make sure everything was okay. But you didn't answer, so-"
"You went into my room, didn't you?" Her eyes suddenly grew dark.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to, but the screams-"
"What happened in my room, Barnes?" Her tone was serious and demanding, but her voice didn't raise.
"You were having a nightmare and I tried to wake you from it. I didn't want to touch you as that often makes them worse, so I just called your name a couple of times and it seemed to stop the nightmare from happening," I explained.
"Anything else?" She asked. I debated telling her about her calling me Bucky, but I decided against it. I didn't think it was important enough for her to know about it.
"Nothing else," she breathed a sigh of relief like she didn't want me to see something that could have taken place that night.
"Barnes, I'm really serious about not going in that room. Unless I give you my verbal consent, don't go in there. Nightmare or not," her tone was sharp, "nevertheless, I appreciate what you did for me. You didn't know that it wasn't what I wanted, but you made sure I was okay, so thank you for that," that wasn't the reaction I was expecting from her. I expected something a little more volatile, or angry. But she was grateful? This woman surprised me every day.
"You're not mad?" I asked, this time meeting her eyes when talking to her. I struggled with that; looking at a person I knew in the eyes when talking to them. But I had been working on it with my therapist. I felt like people could see what I had done when they looked into my eyes; like they were staring at a monster. But she was different. She never once looked at me that way, not in the month we had lived together. Why?
"No, I'm not. As I said, you didn't know. But when I say 'don't go in under any circumstances', I mean it. If I say it's okay, go in," she reminded me gently, still looking me dead in the eyes. She was so... calm about it. It was then that I realized how kind she'd been to me. She never once judged me for my actions. She wasn't that angry that I was in her room, invading her privacy. She didn't care about the mistakes I had made in the past, or the harm I had caused to the world she'd been sworn to protect. She never once judged me for any of it. She treated me like she would any other person from the moment I moved in with her. "You seem stunned," she suddenly interrupted my thoughts.
"I just didn't think you'd take it so well," I replied, "I thought you'd try and end this arrangement,"
"Now why would I do that when I enjoy your company so much?"
"You do?" Now I was stunned.
"Well, you're a rather quiet neighbour, a little too quiet, but I like you. You're a decent person, Barnes," she complimented me.
"I guess I'm a little reserved," I admitted.
"A little?" She chuckled.
"Hey, at least I don't colour code my front closet and spend three hours of my day deep cleaning my apartment," I shot back. She chuckled lightly, her smile lighting up the room. I noticed a small tug at the corners of my lips that I couldn't control.
"Alright, you got me there," she admitted. There was a pause in between our conversation before I noticed Briar pointing at something near me- nope, at me, "you have something on your face, Barnes," I began to wipe my face and chin, but I couldn't feel anything around me.
"What are you talking about? I don't feel anything,"
"A smile," she chuckled, "it's good to see you smiling, Bucky," she said it again. I didn't know why, but hearing her call me by that name gave me a warm feeling inside as if she wanted me around her. But she was right; since I had been because I rarely smiled. I didn't feel that there was a lot to smile for anymore.
"You just called me Bucky," I pointed out with a smirk on my face.
"No, I didn't," she replied casually, taking a sip of the coffee I had made for her that morning.
"Yes, you did!" I accused through laughter.
"I know nothing of the sort, Barnes," she shrugged, with an obvious liar face.
"Alright, even if you didn't, you can call me Bucky if you prefer it," I offered. I knew that I preferred it over my last name.
"Okay, Bucky," the name rolled off her tongue nicely. She finished her breakfast and hopped down from the barstools at the kitchen counter and sat on the couch with her coffee.
"So, what are we doing today?" I asked her, cleaning up the dishes in the sink.
"We have to go to the office today," she told me, "I have to do my third report. By the way, you're training with Steve today,"
"How do you know that?"
"Steve and I made arrangements with Fury so that you're with him this week. I have to do my mission reports and couple of meetings with the director," she told me. I knew she had to do write-ups on my progress, but I wondered what she said about me. I knew that it was supposed to be confidential, but it was about me so figured that it wouldn't hurt to ask.
"What happens in those meetings, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I mainly just relay what I write in the mission reports. Stuff on your progress, when we can move you to the next phase of your recovery, holiday arrangements, the Avengers, your memory progression, and when you can start meeting with the director one-on-one," she told me. It wasn't exactly the answer I wanted to hear, I was looking for stuff about me, not general things.
"I was asking how my progress is going?" I pressed. She sighed heavily, with a sad look flashing briefly in her eyes.
"I'm going to be honest with you, my mission reports are looking pretty empty. I can't really say much on the subject of your progress because frankly, I don't know how it's going. You don't really talk to me much," she told me, "memory I can't really speak on, that's more the job of your therapist to talk about that. I don't know what she says because that's between you, her and the director. I mostly just talk about your behaviours when living with me, some of the things we talk about. Not everything, obviously, that would be creepy. We mainly speak about your comfort level with me," she continued. I didn't really know what to say to that. She kept everything pretty vague, but it was obvious that to her, I was the same as the day I moved in. No progress, no change, nothing. I didn't tell her enough or talk to her enough for her to be able to say anything about it to the director, "you can use the bathroom now. I'm gonna get dressed. Once we're ready, we'll go to the office," she stood up and headed to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. While she got dressed, I finished cleaning up and took a shower and within fifteen minutes, we were in the car on the way to the office.
The car ride was for the most part quiet, but this time, I had a better feeling about her mission report, especially after our conversation earlier. I was also feeling a little bit better about talking to Steve. I was hoping that maybe I could get to know Briar better from what he knew about her, maybe learn a few things about her that she would be a little more hesitant to tell me. I had talked to Steve a few times since I had been back, but I never went with him for the day at SHIELD HQ. I'd get to see what he did for the day.
Once we got to headquarters, she dropped me off Agent Hill's office as usual. The brown-haired agent was never really chatty, which I liked. She didn't seem overly fond of me. But she was all business. She brought me to the training room, where Steve was working out in the gym.
"Rogers, your friend is here," Hill alerted Steve before leaving the room. Steve immediately stopped lifting the weights and jogged over to me. I noticed that it was just me and him in the gym, which was good for talking about things I didn't really want anyone else to hear.
"Hey Bucky," my former best friend smiled at my presence in the room.
"Hey," I replied, "I think I'm assigned to you today. Briar told me you and her made that arrangement,"
"Yeah, we did. We're mostly just doing training today. Sparring, workouts, that kind of stuff," he explained. I nodded, and headed over to the treadmill, putting my hair in a small bun at the nape of my neck before beginning my jog beside Steve.
"Steve, I was hoping we could just talk if that's fine?" I asked while running.
"Is there something wrong?" He replied through huffs. Honestly, when isn't there something wrong?
"It's about Briar,"
"She's not treating you poorly, is she? I know she can be a little abrasive at times-"
"No, not at all. Actually, she's been nothing but kind to me," I cut him off, "but I don't really know much about her. She's a little reserved if you ask me,"
"That is Briar for you. I'm surprised she's been so kind. Not that she's not a nice person, she just didn't seem overly fond of the living situation you guys are in when it first started," he told me. That wasn't a shock, I'd be a little apprehensive too if someone told me that I was supposed to share my home with a stranger, "what was it that you wanted to ask about her?"
"I just wanted to know more about her, from someone else's perspective. As I said, she's not big on sharing," I noticed a dark look flash over Steve's eyes at the mention of knowing who she was as a person. Odd. Was there something about her that Steve didn't want me to know?
"I like her a lot. She's someone you can trust, despite how she comes off sometimes. She'll always have your back, and she excels in combat. You should get along well with her, even though she can be a bit stubborn at times. Usually, she's fairly good-natured and she never has bad intentions, even though she may be secretive. If you're willing to share stuff with her, she may open up to you, but know that she's secretive because she's insecure," Steve described the woman I lived with to me. That last part kind of surprised me. I wondered why she was insecure, what would she have to feel that way about? She was pretty, smart, and a successful agent at SHIELD.
"Really? She seems confident to me. Why?" I inquired.
"You're going to have to find out about that on your own. I don't know a lot about her insecurities, but what I do know isn't really my place to say. She's my friend, Buck. Just like you, so I wouldn't go telling other people things I know she wouldn't want me to tell. I'd do the same for you," as much as Steve was right, I couldn't help but feel mildly annoyed at Steve and his self-righteous morals. I remembered that about him in that moment. He was always one to do the right thing.
"I understand," I shrugged, continuing to up the speed on my treadmill.
"How do you like living with her?" Steve continued the conversation.
"She's a pretty decent roommate. She cooks well, she's pretty quiet and sticks to a good schedule. The insane organization drives me crazy though, it and I fucking hate that she smokes. Whenever she comes back Even when I was a kid I hated cigarette smoke. It just smells really bad on her,"
"We've been trying to get her to quit for years, she just doesn't listen. It slows her down on missions too," Steve ranted. It slows her down? She already moves like lightning.
"How fast is she without them?" I inquired.
"Slightly faster than me, but with them, she almost matches my speed. It's also not that it slows her down, but it burns her energy faster. Honestly, I'll thank you if you can get her to quit smoking,"
"I'll try, but I don't know if it'll work," I sighed. I didn't think I'd get much more about Briar than that, but then I remembered that night with the memory that came back about that little girl with the red hair. Steve was in that memory, so maybe I could ask him about it. Would he even remember it? It was so long ago, and maybe that little girl wasn't really that important in my past.
"Something on your mind, Bucky?" My blonde friend's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Actually I wanted to ask you something," I began, "the other day, Briar had a nightmare and I went in to see what was going on because I didn't know at the time. I tried to wake her up without touching her, so I tried calling her name. Surprisingly, it worked, but something else happened. She called me Bucky. She had never done that before, but whatever it was, it triggered a memory when I got back to my room," I told him. Steve looked attentive and ready to listen to what I had to say.
"What did you remember?" He gently inquired.
"I remembered something from when I was about thirteen and you were twelve. You introduced me to a little redheaded girl who was about ten. Her name was Madeline, do you remember her?" It seemed that Steve froze for a second. His facial expression didn't change, but his eyes showed something I rarely saw in Steve- panic. He was usually brave, never afraid of anything, even when he was a kid.
"She was a friend of ours as young kids. After a while, our friendship just kind of dissolved, but there was never any bad blood between us and her," He explained. I had a feeling that Steve wasn't telling the whole truth about her, but I didn't want to push it yet. I'd eventually remember what happened, right? But my question was, why would he lie about something like that? It seemed so insignificant, just a small moment in my life. It had to have some kind of meaning to it, "sorry, Buck. Mind if I use the bathroom for a few minutes?" My blonde friend cut off my train of thought again.
"Yeah, no worries. I'll be fine here. I'll start on weights while you're gone," I assured him. He nodded before taking off through the gym doors. But I had a gut feeling that the bathroom was not where he was really going.