Testing and Boundaries
My senses alerted to the turning of a knob. It took a moment to realize it was Barnes’s door and not outside.
“What are you doing?” My voice was a little gravely, but sharp nevertheless.
“I could ask you the same question.” He said, pointing at my make-shift bed. “Why are you sleeping on the couch?”
I slumped back into the cushions mumbling.
“Didn’t catch that.”
“Doing my job.” I glanced at the clock, 6:20.
Barnes crossed his arms, waiting.
“It’s my job to protect you Sargent Barnes. In case you forgot.” I felt the fire in my eyes.
“I can protect myself, thank you very much.” Sarcastic.
“You know why I’m here.”
“To be my off-switch. A shock collar.”
“Would you prefer I let them turn you again?” I deflated under his glare.
“no.” softly, pained.
“I’m sorry. I wish there was another way.” I got up and started putting away my things, knowing I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. “I’m only here to help. To keep you safe.”
“And what if it doesn’t work.” I looked into his face and saw the fear written in his eyes.
“It will.”
I turned on the electric kettle and prepared a pot of tea, something soothing was in order. I poured two cups, handing him one as I passed. Settling in to the recliner I noticed his confusion at the mug he held.
“It’s not poisoned.” I took a sip from my own as proof. He sniffed it once, took a sip, then made himself comfortable on the couch I had vacated.
“You should test it.”
“Test what?” I asked.
“Putting me out.” He spoke casually, like it was no big deal, hiding anxiety.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. When I put people to sleep like that… they don’t remember what happened, or remember me.” How would he react if he woke to find a stranger guarding him, essentially keeping him prisoner?
“I remembered everything, last time?”
“But I didn’t put you out, I just froze your muscles.”
“Ok, then try that.”
“I already know it works, and if they find us, I’ll have to actually knock you out… to protect your mind.”
“I need to know you can stop this-” he pulled the glove from the metal hand, flexing “-if it comes down to it. So, practice.” He was determined. Unflinching.
I sighed. “Ok.”
I sat on the coffee table and pressed two fingers to the cold forearm. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t freeze the arm or affect him through contact with it.
“There’s no nerves to use. I can’t…” I growled in frustration.
“How did it work last time?” Barnes asked, keeping his tone calm.
I tapped my neck. “I touched you.” Grimacing, “that came out weird. What I meant to say is the ‘touch’ works on skin, muscles, nerves. Your arm… there aren’t human nerves in there for me to manipulate… When I froze you that day, I had to stop the nerves in your shoulder from sending signals into the arm. I have to touch skin.” I tried to stay professional, hoping he wouldn’t be triggered by the reminder of what I’d done. His expression remained calm.
“So does it have to be the neck?” he asked.
“I’m not sure… that’s what worked with Steve. But I haven’t tried it on him again.” I leaned further back as he extended his flesh arm.
“Try.”
I touched my fingers to his wrist, following the nerves through his arm into his shoulder and spine, focusing my energy on the shoulder attached to the metal prosthetic. Normal nerves ended in a dizzying array of electrical contacts, fused in a way I couldn’t have predicted. *Freeze* The metal arm dropped limp. I broke contact, having targeted the freezing so it only affected his shoulder. He rubbed it with a strange expression.
“The arm is wired directly into your nervous system. I didn’t know that was possible.”
“So, it can’t be removed?” his tone was flat.
“In theory, yes. Anything made can be unmade…” I repeated the old phrase thoughtfully. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know.” The words escaped Barnes in a whisper.
I touched his hand briefly to remove the paralysis from his shoulder.
“More tea?” I offered, going to refill my cup.
“Oh, sure.”
I carried the pot over and filled both mugs. He clearly needed time to think. I felt as though we had made progress and walking away might damage that. So, settling into my chair and wrapping my hands around my cup, letting the silence draw me in. I made note of the small things:
-the rhythm of blood pumping through my ears
-breathing- slow and deliberate
-curls of steam rising from my cup
-the aroma of mint and chamomile (the tea)
-a hint of spice
-the light tapping of Barnes’ fingers on the leather couch
-Casper's soft feet as he leapt onto the arm rest
My cat sat in contemplation of the tapping fingers, tail swishing. I watched, anticipating an attack, knowing that Casper was quite gentle even in a play-fight. The tip of the tail flicked. Stopped. Flicked. One dainty paw reached out and laid itself on the moving knuckle. Barnes stopped, seeming frozen. The green eyes blinked slowly; the face serene. Casper nudged the hand with his face, finally satisfied with the open palm- he stepped into it, folded his front paws and settled into a sphynx pose.
There was something wonderfully innocent about the look on his face as he looked at the cat in the palm of his hand.
“He seems… to speak almost.” Sargent Barnes’ voice was hushed and reverent.
“Casper is very intelligent and he picks good people.” I saw the question before he could ask it. “He found me, on the street. Walked straight up, looked me over, and jumped onto my shoulder, he’s been with me ever since.”
“So, you didn’t train him? He always seems to know what you want.”
“He’s very smart, and ‘the glow’ effects animals too, it’s very instinct driven.” It had gotten me out of a couple of scrapes with wild dogs in the past.
“What is this “glow” everyone keeps talking about.” He seemed sincerely confused.
“Well, it’s like… like sitting in sunshine, warm and comfortable and… Well friends, family… people I care about, they feel that glow when I’m near them, and it reflects back on me, like a hug. I’d almost forgotten…” I drifted off, thinking of the long cold years after I’d left the farm, before I’d found this new family.
He shivered slightly.
“Oh- I’m sorry, the freeze probably cooled you off, I can fix it.” I stumbled over my words praying the conversation could end there.
“No, its fine.”
The rest of the morning passed in relative silence, with the occasional update from Jarvis. The details were thin, but he gave as a general idea of how things were progressing and the day passed in staccato bursts of fear and relief. They were coming home, had accomplished their goal, and Clint had been injured. A special medical team was coming in to treat him. I greeted them when they arrived and showed them to Banners lab. Barnes stayed on my left as we rode the elevator to the roof access point.
“I asked you once before, but you kicked me out.” I smiled, “how would you prefer to be addressed?”
He shrugged.
“Sargent Barnes?”
He shook his head. “The army was a long time ago.”
“Mister Barnes just sounds wrong.” I said frankly, wrinkling my nose.
He laughed at that. The sound, free, young.
“Would you prefer the full ‘James Buchanan Barnes’?”
He shook his head still chuckling as we stepped out into night.
“I can’t just holler “hey You” all the time.”
“James. You can call me. James.”
“Barnes, James Barnes” I used my best Shaun Connery impersonation, and, whether or not he understood the reference, we both cracked up.
Our laughter died as the jet materialized above the pad. It touched down hastily, bouncing slightly. The ramp barely hit the ground before Nat and Steve reached it, pushing the stretcher. The medical team raced past us to take over the patient.
“How is he?” I asked Nat as she stumbled in, I put an arm around her sagging form. Pain, exhaustion, worry
“It’s bad, but Dr. Cho should be able to fix him up.”
“If I can help in any way.”
Nat shook her head.
“At least let me fix that ankle for you.” I asked, pleading with my eyes to be allowed to help in some small way.
Clint would be fine, and everyone was safe.
For now.