Line and Sinker
Days went by without anything out of the ordinary. You and James both studiously pretended that awkward morning full of closeness, touching and varying degrees of (potential) kissing never happened and no one came for you, either HYDRA or Avenger. You had been worried about that for a bit, with your boss basically being privy to any Avenger business so long as Mr Stark was involved, but the lack of angry phone calls and the fact that you still had your job was starting to make you believe that you’d dodged that particular bullet. Maybe the good Captain was very adamant about going on his search alone. Maybe saving the world from an alien invasion wasn’t quite the bonding experience it was made out to be after all.
“Miss ________?” Pam’s voice sounded over the intercom stiffly, and if her tone wasn’t enough to tip you off that something shocking and unforeseen had happened then the formal address certainly did. You instantly stiffened, but went to answer despite your nerves.
“Yes, what is it?”
“There is someone here to see you.” Pam’s voice sounded just the slightest bit shaky. She was either star-struck or terrified, possibly even both.
“I don’t have any appointments today.” You countered, knowing it to be true.
“I’d still appreciate it if you could make some time for me.” A male voice sounded over the speaker, and over a small startled squeak from your assistant. You could almost picture the man leaning across her desk in the next room. And you had a sneaking suspicion as to who it might be.
“Is this Mr Miller or Mr Sternberg?” you inquired bravely, hoping that you had put the pieces together correctly. There was a wry chuckle on the other end that sounded more weary than actually amused.
“Impressive.” He commented more as an aside. “May I come in? I feel that might be a bit more fruitful. Not to mention more discreet.”
You gulped, straightening out your hair, blouse and some papers on your desk self-consciously before replying with an affirmative.
“Good day, Captain Rogers.” You said before he’d even fully opened the door, nerves starting to fray. Nevertheless you tried to appear composed and unruffled. He closed the door and stood there a moment, assessing you. He was even bigger than the exhibit suggested, shoulders almost as wide as the door itself, over six feet of lean, solid muscle. Moments passed and he was still just standing there, staring at you like you were a particularly difficult puzzle he needed to figure out.
“That’s a bit rude,” you pointed out sourly, gesturing at him to sit down in one of the visitor chairs in front of your desk, “Not to mention creepy.”
“My apologies, Miss ________.” He said, managing a sheepish smile and that’s when you saw the scrawny little kid from James’ tattered memories before you. It did remarkably little to alleviate the effect of adrenaline and anxiety flooding your system. It’s not every day that Captain America waltzed into your office after all. Then again, the average person probably also didn’t hide his formerly-presumed-dead best friend away in their apartment you supposed.
“You can probably guess why I’m here.” The Captain began tentatively, looking to you as if begging for a lifeline. You found yourself thinking that he wasn’t really made for all this covert spy stuff, then inadvertently found yourself wondering what the fact that you’d managed to hide a most wanted person of interest for nearly three months said about you in that regard.
“Is it because that one time I didn’t vote?” you deflected weakly, “Because I have a good excuse.”
That actually made the Captain grin a little, which was relieving since you’d been mentally kicking yourself since the second those words left your mouth. The moment was over quickly enough. Captain Rogers slumped back in his seat tiredly. You could see the shadowed look in his eyes, the bone-deep exhaustion etched into his features, a glimmer of hope coupled with despair.
“I just…” he trailed off, running a hand over his face. It made you feel a bit guilty for being so short with him, but the urge to protect Jamie was stronger.
“I just need to know that he’s okay. I need to know that he is alive and uninjured and safe.” His voice was quiet and broken, no trace of the paragon of justice, freedom and righteousness – just a tired, haunted man bleeding on the inside. It was heart-wrenching to see that same hollow look that could so often be found on James’ face. You abandoned your aloof façade to reach across your desk, lightly touching the Captain’s hand.
“He’s as well as he can be under the circumstances, I suppose. He’s been with me since the SHIELD thing, minus the one and a half week or so that he spent in the hospital. His injuries were bad enough then, but he’s recovered from those fairly quickly. Physically he’s well now, except for what I suspect is some amount of chronic pain, but he’s not one to complain or even just admit it, so I don’t know that for sure.” You paused after that first section of your report, offering a sympathetic look at the Captain, whose face had twisted with every word.
“Should I go on? Would you maybe like some coffee? Or tea?” you offered helplessly at his distress. Captain Rogers shook his head, begging you to continue.
“Okay, well, mentally – I won’t lie, it’s a struggle. There are good days, sometimes. Most days aren’t but some are. Nightmares are a constant thing, and they’re bad. He barely sleeps because of that. There are several symptoms of severe PTSD, panic attacks, also hallucinations… you understand I’m not an expert on these things so take it with a grain of salt.”
The Captain looked to be in actual pain now, making you falter.
“Captain Rogers…”
“Please, call me Steve.” He pressed out between stiff jaws, more reflexive than sincere.
“Captain Rogers,” you reiterated decisively, “I realize this all sounds horrible, but he’s improved so much already. In the beginning he barely spoke, or ate, or slept, and when he did it was on the floor. He hid himself away in my apartment, terrified of everything and anyone. He’s made so much progress since then. He’s even started regaining some memories…”
“He has?” Steve asked hopefully, grasping your hand in reflex.
“Yeah, he has. It’s all very confused from what little he shares, just flashes at first, and most of it is from after the fall, so not exactly pleasant, but it’s been getting steadily better, too. I mean, until last month we didn’t even know who he was. Well, I mean he knows he used to be the Winter Soldier, but nothing before that.”
“But he knows who he is now?” Steve interrupted you.
“Whoa, loaded question. And not one that is likely to have an easy answer. We went to your exhibit at the Air and Space last month, so he at least knows who he’s supposed to be. I fear the rest is entirely beyond either of our competence.”
Steve slunk back in his seat again, releasing your hand. He thought of the various photos and short videos made by other attendees of the summer party, with a man in the background who looked too much like the Bucky he used to know, except maybe adapted to this day and age. He’d tried not to, but his hopes had gotten away from him at seeing the other man talk, dance and even smile with the woman now sitting in front of him. Truth be told, he’d had no idea what to expect, but he knew he wanted his friend back, wanted a second chance after failing to pull him back inside that train. Sam had warned him about this, but he hadn’t wanted to listen.
Now he felt more on the verge of losing Bucky than he had on the side of that train in ’44 or amid the wreckage of a falling Helicarrier.
Looking at the empathetic expression of the woman in front of him, Steve resolved that as long as Bucky was alright and safe that was all that mattered to him. And if that didn’t include him then that was absolutely agonizingly painful, but eventually worth it. He just had to make sure.
“Did he ever… did he ever hurt you?” Steve asked. That wasn’t what he’d meant to ask, he was sure, but somehow it had slipped out. The woman looked positively affronted now, crossing her arms and pursing her lips before pressing out a flat “No, never.”
It was almost discomfiting how quickly her demeanor changed, letting an iron resolve shine through from underneath the sweet outer shell. Steve had the sinking feeling that he’d just committed a blunder of cosmic dimensions.
“Well, since we’re on to asking ridiculous and uncomfortable questions apparently, I’d like to know how you found me.”
Steve shifted uncomfortably in the chair, floundering a bit with where and how to begin, but eventually he managed to recount the entirety of their search, from hitting dead end after dead end over recruiting Sharon’s help to the final breakthrough made by chance and Pepper Potts.
The young woman’s face had softened a bit at first, but grew concerned again towards the end.
“What about HYDRA?” she asked quietly. Steve swallowed the sour taste he got in his mouth whenever that name fell.
“If they haven’t made a move yet it stands to reason that they don’t know he’s with you.” He replied cautiously, at which she nodded impatiently.
“I figured that, but if you could find us, they can, too.”
“It’s a possibility.” Steve conceded. “The danger is definitely there.”
“I wouldn’t do anything different.” ________ shot back defensively. “I’d do it all again. He needed the help, needs it still. I’d just like to be prepared, but I don’t regret taking him in.”
There was a protective fierceness to that declaration that took Steve aback, even reminding him of the Bucky he grew up with in a way, of the boy who’d sit next to him with an ice pack on his nose as well because while Steve might have been better at sniffing out trouble Bucky was never one to shrink away from a fight.
“I’d like to see him.” he said thickly, wringing his hands. He should have brought Sam, but Sam had had a family emergency and needed the rest after trekking around the country with him and cleaning out HYDRA agents for the better part of these last few months.
“That’s not my decision.” You said cautiously, thinking back to that moment in your bathroom less than two weeks ago. You knew that deep down he wanted to see Steve again, but he was scared, so scared. It was strange to consider that this fear might keep him from reuniting with his former best friend when so far he’d been so brave in confronting the things that frightened him, but then again it might be that in this case he’d put someone beside himself at risk.
The Captain’s face fell upon your statement, looking grey and increasingly hopeless. You leant forward in your chair, determined to do your utmost to make this work out.
“I’ll talk to him, try to convince him. Maybe you could come by for lunch or so on the weekend. It’s as safe and familiar as it gets at my place, and I don’t wanna add stress factors to an already tense situation. It might well set him back.” Steve nodded in understanding, albeit it somewhat reluctantly. You had no doubt he’d want nothing more than to jump into a car and drive back to your apartment right now.
“Look, he won’t like the idea at first, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because of you – well, it is, but it’s because he still cares – anyway, I’ll talk to him, bring him round.” You promised solemnly, confident in your ability to sway James. Steve nodded gratefully, even though he could have looked more convinced.
“Okay, if you know where I work you probably have no problem getting my number. Call me tomorrow. Unless there’s an imminent HYDRA threat, in that case please call me immediately.”
That at least made Steve grin a little. He thanked you, shaking your hand and left reluctantly, even saying his good-byes to Pam on his way out. She poked her head into your office as soon as the door fell shut behind him.
“Was that really…?”
“Yes.” You confirmed, feeling strangely tingly now. Pam gaped at the door to her office.
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him when he first came by the other day.”
“Well, people hardly expect Captain America to just show up at their workplace, do they?”
“Yeah, I suppose… wait, what did he even want from you?”
“Confidential, I’m afraid.”
“Ugh, boss…”
---
You arrived back at your apartment greeted by the sound of the radio playing softly in the background and some very agitated meowing. After leaving your purse and coat by the door, you rounded the corner into the open living space to find James struggling to hold down a very displeased Becky while simultaneously trying to do something with tweezers.
“Oh no!” you exclaimed, distraught, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
James sighed, adjusting his grip on the unwilling feline, who whined loudly in protest.
“This little idiot fur ball miscalculated a jump, lost her footing and fell into the rosebush under the window.”
“Oh no!” you gasped, hand flying up to cover your mouth, “Is she gonna be okay?”
“As soon as I get these thorns out she should be.” He answered, wrestling the loudly protesting cat as firmly as he dares and quickly plucking all of five thorns out of her hind leg before she squirms out of his grip like she’s been walking on glowing coals.
“Well, that should be all.” He concluded flatly. Becky hissed up at him defiantly before stalking over to the couch with an air of utter contempt about her.
“Ungrateful little floof.” You muttered absently, at which James makes a little noise that might have been a stifled laugh. You turn around to sass him gently for the insolence, and that’s that as far as not getting awkward around each other is concerned. You’d been doing fairly well all week up until this point, you try to console yourself. Your blossoming feelings are your own problem; and one you’re not going to add to the pile of his because that would be unfair and presumptuous.
“Anyway,” you clear your throat awkwardly, looking down at his hand that’s loosely cradling the removed rose thorns – he’s holding them in his right hand where only a slight clench would press them into his flesh because of course he does; this whole self-preservation thing is still a work in progress –
“You were saying?” James prods, cheeky smirk in place, teasing you like the little shit he is so you make a face at him to compensate for the fact that in this very moment you have actually completely forgotten what you were going to say.
“So, guess who came by my office today.” You eventually recover, taking a seat at the dinner table opposite from him and plucking the thorns from his palm to throw away later. James looked thoughtful for a moment, humoring you, clearly. As previously stated: little shit. Little shit that you had somehow irrevocably fallen for but little shit nonetheless. You adored that as often as it annoyed you.
“Was it Brenda from HR with the newest gossip?”
Really, right now it annoyed you. Tremendously. You weren’t proud of it, but you were only human after all, and pointedly stating “No, your friend Steve.” Seemed like a better course of action than launching yourself across the table and into his arms somehow.
The effect was instant though. Gratifying, too. You never claimed to be a saint. You could still feel a bit guilty about this later.
“…How?” came the choked off reply a few long moments later.
“That’s kind of an interesting story actually; I thought we could share all about it on Saturday. I was thinking coffee? Maybe some cake? Around four is probably the best time, what do you think?” you tried to keep your tone nonchalant, conversational as if this would actually help in any way. James gave a stifled little noise that sounded distinctly unlike mirth in any way.
“You invited him? Here?”
“Into my apartment, where I live? No, I said I’d ask you whether it was okay, which I have just done.” You looked over at him expectantly. He looked like he was about to start hyperventilating, and eyeing those thorns in a way that you couldn’t tell what he possibly intended to do with them. You quickly got up and threw them away, giving him a moment to collect himself.
“I wish we had made a bet. I knew this would happen.”
“Yeah, I remember.” He replied quietly, distractedly rubbing the back of his neck and looking more conflicted than you’d ever seen a person look.
“Look, I’m convinced it’s gonna be okay. He just wants to make sure you’re alright.”
“Am I?” he murmured absently, and you weren’t sure he even meant to say it out loud.
“There are people more qualified to judge that than me. The thing is, if he could find trace you back here then so can HYDRA, probably. I can’t keep you safe forever, so for better or worse, you’re gonna have to meet with him.” you slumped back in your seat, suddenly exhausted. James bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands, turning the tweezers over and over like it was an oracle that held the answer to his predicament.
“In that case I’d rather it be here than anywhere else.” He said slowly, eventually. “You’ll be here with me, won’t you?”
“I promised, didn’t I?”