Chapter 2
“Good morning.” I announce, walking through the open door of 3C, faced with three of the same people as yesterday, but Bucky wasn’t present.
“Got anything for us, Agent?” Maria asks, sitting back in her chair. “Apologies for the last minute inclusion.”
After the meeting yesterday afternoon, I was asked to do some research on the team’s findings. It took me a damn while, finally getting to sleep at 03:00 this morning, but I have an answer.
“Not a problem, Commander. I have found something, actually.” I close the door behind me, rushing to pull up the screen on my tablet. I swipe the screen up onto the monitor for everyone to see. I clear my throat, ready to present my findings.
“After yesterday's brief, I watched the interrogation tape again, the one of the Ukrainian transport driver. I don’t think he’s our guy.” I state plainly, and everyone looks at me in confusion.
Sam is the first to speak. “He’s not said a word since he got here, he’s keeping something from us.”
“That’s precisely it. I don’t think he knows why he’s here. I checked his records, he’s self employed, works for several different transport companies.” I pull up the evidence I collected, including bank statements, pay slips and more, flicking through the documents. “He's young, became a father recently, working overtime to provide for his family. It’s not him.”
“Shit.” Maria sighs, putting her head in her hands.
“He probably doesn’t know what was in the back of the wagon.” Sharon adds. “We messed up.”
“Tell me... tell me you have a lead.” Sam pleads, making eye contact. I spent hours upon hours gathering this information, I’m confident it’s correct.
“I narrowed down your time frame, and it points to one company, company name translates simply to 'Transport Express'. The guy we have downstairs was driving for them on the same day, and the same hour, when you jumped the transport. The job was requested by a Romanian national, some guy called Luca. No surname given.” I pause to pull up a picture. “This same man has requested two more transports in the past, and also one more, and according to this travel path, is due to leave the Ukraine to Romania border in a few days.” I finish presenting my findings, and I look to the other faces in the room for a reaction.
“Do you know where it’s headed after that?” Sam asks.
I shake my head in defeat. “The location is disclosed with the driver when they pick up the cargo. A perfect set up, for the reasons you specified.”
“We can’t just hijack the wagon." Maria points out, her attention still on the information on the screen. "There's clearly been multiple shipments in the past, which mean's there will be more. We need to know where the shipments are arriving so we can hit it there. If we can do that, we have a better chance of shutting the operation down entirely.”
“Deputy Hill, I'm sorry to ask this, but… why is SHIELD so interested in a human trafficking ring? Surely this should’ve been passed over to other authorities.” I state, a question that was playing on my mind all night. Trafficking is not something that SHIELD usually involves itself with, so I hope they can forgive my inquisition.
“We have evidence to suggest they're trading weapons, too.” Maria continues. “Vibranium, most likely. Scorch marks on warehouse floors that match information gathered from the Wakandans. SHIELD is better facilitated to handle anything involving vibranium.”
“I have an idea.” Sharon interrupts, everyone in the room turning to face her. “Okay, so, we stage an exchange. For example, I can be handed over to this Luca, infiltrate the shipment, and we can track my movement to see where I end up.”
“Won’t work.” Bucky’s voice sounds from the door, making my heart skip. I didn’t realise the door had even opened, so concentrated on my work. I keep my eyes away from him, the chance of distraction too great. “Sure, it makes sense, but they’d recognise you. Needs to be someone they wouldn't recognise.” In between Bucky entering the room, and sitting down in the empty seat next to Sam, all eyes averted from Sharon, to Bucky, and finally, to me.
“You want to get back in the field, Agent?” Deputy Hill asks me, and my mouth opens as I realise what they’re trying to ask of me.
“Wait, you want to send me into a trafficking ring?"
Everyone else looks back at me like it should’ve been obvious. I stutter, explaining myself. "I've been out of action, sat at a desk for, what, five years? I can't just-”
“You don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable.” Hill adds, and she glances around the room. A couple of heads nod, but not Bucky. Bucky tilts his chin backwards, opening his mouth as if to speak, so I send him a subtle, warning glare.
He ignores me.
“John Garrett was your S.O, right, Agent?”
Maria looks between the two of us, and I swallow nervously. She looks at Bucky, frowning. “How did you-”
“Previously, yes.” I stop her asking him the question, composing myself through gritted teeth. I send another glare his way, hoping my face reads ‘you fucking asshole’, as I intend it to.
He doesn’t care, looking back to the Deputy.
“If you know anything about Garretts team, Deputy, you know she'll be fine.” He shrugs.
I purse my lips, setting my tablet down on the table below. I trace the edges of the screen with my fingers, taking a shaky breath. I don't know what kind of game Bucky is playing, but it's a dangerous one. If he carries on dropping random facts about my past, someone is going to start assuming something is going on, which it is, but I want to keep it unknown. I'm still trying to shovel myself out of the pile of hot, steaming shit that Ward left behind, and it feels as if Barnes is beginning to add to it, because I suddenly feel stuck again, not seeing any other option but to say yes.
“If it’s the best chance we’ve got… then yeah.” I nod. “I’ll do it.” I trained with Ward. He had the highest stats since Romanoff. She would’ve jumped into this head first, and it seems like Sharon is willing to do the same, but I don’t know if I’m ready to get back in.
The others relax, and Bucky leans into the grip he has on the table. My head is down, but I’m looking right at him, but he’s avoiding my eye contact. I was hoping that it would turn him to stone.
“I spent some time in Romania, speaking the language, I can go with her, hide my face. Won’t be suspicious under the circumstances.” He continues, not really to my surprise, picking up a pen that sits on the table in front of him, twirling it between his fingers.
“You mean pimping me out?” I drop bluntly, staring him dead in the eye, and Sam snorts from the seat next to him. It must seem like a strange interaction to the others, someone cracking jokes with Barnes. Supposedly, someone that doesn’t know him all that well.
“Well it’s either that, or you go on your own.” He calls back, clearly not appreciating my sarcasm, and tension rises thickly in the room, before Sharon helps to break it.
“Okay…” She drags out, showing her discomfort. Something about that makes me feel better about the situation, and I chew on my cheek to stop a smile. “We find out where the exchange happens, everything else will come after that, and the rest of us will be on the other end of that wagon waiting for you.”
“Ideally,” I say, seeing Sam smiling from the corner of my eye. Bucky looks at me, sternly, and my stomach turns, all but hearing him scold me. My eyes flicker away, back to Maria, and he picks up his phone. I clear my throat, adjusting in my seat. “When do we start?”
“If the transport leaves in a few days, we need you to travel as soon as possible. Be ready to leave as soon as we notify you.” Maria instructs, and I nod along as she speaks. “Any more questions?”
I glance across the room, sheepishly, shaking my head for my lack of questions. Everyone else seems to do the same, before Maria picks up the clipboard in front of her, our queue to leave. My watch vibrates as everyone begins to leave, and I glance to Bucky, who quickly puts his phone in his pocket. He stands strongly, making it apparent that he would be the first to leave. I watch his large frame stride out of the door, leaving it open behind him. I check the notification on my watch, and my cheeks burn. A message, from Bucky Barnes, consisting of one word.
‘Careful.’
•
“They’re sending you where?!”
Claire grabs my wrist, pulling me to the side of the corridor.
“I know, I got pulled into it. I don’t know, but maybe it’ll be fun.” I shrug, trying to convince Claire, as well as myself.
“Fun? What could possibly be fun about that?”
“God, Claire, do you ever whisper? I’m not alone, Sergeant Barnes is coming with me.” I say, quietly, knowing Claire would react to the latter comment. Surely enough, her eyes widened, anyone would think she’d just seen a ghost.
“You’re kidding.” She says, her mouth just as wide as her eyes.
“Why would I be kidding?” I laugh, nervously.
“Okay, that is awesome. You’re like, an honorary Avenger now.”
I roll my eyes, chuckling. “I don’t think it works like that.”
“Ugh, whatever.” She says, as we continue walking. “That’s what I’d be telling everyone, if I were you.” We reach the huge foyer, and Claire takes a quick look around, before speaking again. “Come on, at least ask him if he’s single.”
“Claire!” I gasp, swatting at her arm, and she laughs, holding a hand to her stomach, leaning backwards.
“I’m sorry, I'm kidding.” She continues to laugh, and I shake my head, chuckling. “But maybe...”
“Okay, I’m leaving now.” I laugh as she stumbles on her words, trying to convince me to stay.
“I wish I could, but I need to get home.” I gesture to the door, shrugging my shoulders. After explaining that I need to prepare for the mission, Claire wishes me luck, pulling me in for a hug.
“I’ll only be gone for a few days.” I mumble into her hair, and she squeezes her arms around my waist. I pull away, gripping her shoulders. “Don’t let Evan touch my stuff.” I mockingly warn her, removing my hands.
“Your snack drawer is safe with me.” She smiles sweetly, and we both turn to take a step forward, but someone blocks my way. I apologise briefly, taking a side step to move out of the way, but a hand on my wrist stops me. I turn, and my head spins at the sight, and the impeccable timing. The corners of his mouth curl into a familiar smirk, and I cringe knowing Claire is now standing right behind me.
“Oh, hi!” I exhale, pulling my wrist away from his loose grip. I straighten my jacket, wiping my palms over the material. “Uh, Sergeant Barnes, sorry for-”
“Don’t worry, it’s my fault.” He steps back to a more respectable distance, glancing towards Claire. Oh god, what’s the normal thing to do in this situation?
“Claire.” I turn to grab her wrist, yanking her towards me. She stumbles her step, but I pretend nothing happened, more focused on making this situation less awkward for myself. “This is Sergeant Barnes.” I gesture to Bucky, still smiling sickeningly.
“I'm well aware who he is, hon." Claire rolls her eyes at me, shaking her head at Bucky, who looks amused. At least one of us is finding this funny.
"It’s an honour to meet you, Sergeant.” Claire beams, and Bucky gives a small smile, greeting her. “Bucky is fine.” He extends his hand to Claire, and her eyes glisten, taking his hand and shaking firmly. I think this is the happiest I’ve seen her all year.
“Sorry to interrupt, but can I talk to you for a second, Agent?” Bucky asks me, and I nod. Not forgetting that I’m angry with him for mentioning Garrett, I turn to Claire and say goodbye once more, before walking with Bucky. We walk in silence until we get outside, the crisp air nipping at my skin through my jacket.
I follow him to the side of the building, and I break the silence. “Why’d you tell them about Garrett?” I lean to look behind him, making sure nobody is listening. “That’s not your call to make. God, might as well have told them about Ward whilst you were at it.” I sigh, losing my composure, my past playing on my mind. He folds his arms, leaning against the wall behind him.
“None of that matters now. You're clean.”
“Are you serious? I’m sure you would’ve kept your history private if you had the chance.” I seethe, turning to walk away.
“Hey, hey.” Bucky calls from behind, jogging ahead to stop me. He places his hand on my shoulder to steady me, before I quickly bat away. It was his left hand, so it stung, but I didn’t let him see that. “I did you a favour, getting you out of that office job.”
“I don’t need your charity.” I reply. “I took that job for good reason. I couldn't trust myself in the field anymore, how was I supposed to know if what I was doing was right or wrong? But somehow, I'm doing it all over again.” I try to side step away, but Bucky mimics my steps.
“You can say no.”
I sigh. “Did you see how they looked at me? I can’t, not now.”
“Fine.” He says, shrugging. “We do this mission; get the guy; come home; and then you can go back to the office. Okay?”
“Fine.” I shrug. “Whatever.”
I side step again, but Bucky still blocks my way.
“Let me give you a ride home.” He says, cocking his head toward the parking lot underground. I stare at him blankly, knowing he doesn’t have a car.
“I’m not getting on that death trap.”
“It’s a bike, it’s not dangerous. You can have my helmet.” He pushes for an answer, reaching for my arm. I step back, away from his grasp.
“Fine. But you’re not coming in. I need sleep.”
“Noted.” He says, nodding. I sigh, and he walks forward, so I turn to follow him to the underground lot.
For a parking space underneath a SHIELD facility, I thought they might make more of an effort to make it look appealing, but it's just a standard parking lot. Dull, yellow bulbs creating just enough light for me to see where I’m walking, the cold, musty smell, and the sound of our footsteps echo as the noise bounces off the concrete. I've never been down here, I take the subway.
“Avengers have a few VIP spaces at the front, why not use those?” I ask what seems like an obvious question.
“Stark used to park his car across all three. None of us want to be the first to park there, so we don't." He answers simply, and I instantly regret asking. It must have been a known thing amongst them. Little things like that can help people remember someone they've lost, even if it is something as trivial as parking a car, or bike, there.
We reach Bucky's motorcycle, and although I don't know much about bikes, I can admit that it's beautiful. A Harley Davidson, given away by the badge, with an all-black finish, even the metals. I couldn't name the model, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was custom, the look of the bike somehow seems personal to Bucky. He pops open the storage compartment at the side of the rear tyre, pulling something out. A large, black zip-up hoodie, which he rests on the seat, whilst throwing his leather motorcycle jacket in my direction, the one that rested on his shoulders a second ago.
“You need that more than I do.”
I swipe my thumbs over the various lines stitched into the thick leather, giving the jacket that classic look. Bucky rolls his left shoulder as I look up, stretching it out before putting on the other jacket. I wonder if the joint, hurts, or if it's the placement of the prosthetic that he's adjusting?
“Thanks.” I mumble, putting my arms into the jacket, layering it over my less protective one. It smells good. Really good.
Bucky swings a leg over the bike and takes the helmet off one of the handles, holding it out to me. The helmet is also all black, with a tinted visor, which Bucky flicks down before handing it to me. I step closer, taking it from his hands, my fingers brushing against his, and I try not to linger. I slip the helmet over my head, the visor dimming my already limited vision. I climb onto the back of the motorcycle, resting my hands on Bucky’s waist for balance. I feel him take a deep breath as I shuffle around behind him, an attempt to get comfortable.
“Ready?” He asks, turning his head slightly, and I mumble a ‘yes’ under the helmet.
“Hold on tight.” He instructs, before the engine rumbles loudly on start-up. I snake my hands further to Bucky’s front, gripping tightly as far as I can reach around, before the bike roars to life, and we set off.