Most people wouldn’t expect an ex-assassin, an expert in multiple languages, who’s capable of disappearing without a sound, to be at a local Brooklyn bar. But there he was. The bar had been run for decades, ownership passing from generation to generation, parent to child. The bar was now run by a young man of thirty or so named Scotty who spent most nights bartending. The drinks he made were a favorite of many New Yorkers, so many customers were drawn to his business.
Bucky never bought drinks at the bar, no matter how highly praised they were. He didn’t want to drink any alcohol. He’d spent enough time out of control of his own body and mind. Instead, he sat in a corner eating french fries, brooding at the few people who made eye contact with him. He wasn’t really angry, but he’d learned that if he looked a little more angry than usual, people wouldn’t talk to him. He didn’t want to be bothered by anyone.
The bar had been renovated many times as it had stood through the style changes of interior design over time. It used to be smaller, more dingy, with a few tables around it and light bulbs hanging bare from the ceiling, flickering every so often. Now, it was much larger with neon signs advertising alcohol companies, a pool table to the side, and booths lining the wall for people to sit in. The bar had almost double the number of drinks it had before, and small TVs were hooked to the walls to broadcast sports. A lot of times, middle-aged men gathered with their buddies to watch the games, mostly to yell at the players even though their criticism was very one-sided. Regardless of all these changes, Bucky remembered the bar back before the war. He snuck in with Steve a few times, and the bartender, probably Scotty’s great grandpa, let them have a few drinks just to “live a little because you never know what’ll happen next in this terrible war.”
This bar was sort of a safe haven for Bucky because he knew it was somewhere he could be alone and think. It was even a few blocks away from the apartment he’d rented out with Steve all those years before the war. He didn’t mind Stark Tower, and he really appreciated how Steve and Sam were helping him sort out his scrambled mind. But sometimes Bucky just couldn’t breathe with so many people in the room. Sometimes his mind froze up and his Hydra brainwashing crept up on him. Sometimes he couldn’t look Tony Stark in the eyes know that he was the one responsible for his parent’s death. Sometimes he just had to get away. So Bucky found this bar, a place that connected him to his old self, before Hydra, before the Winter Soldier.
A commotion over by the bar pulled his attention from his thoughts. Two rough-looking men shoved each other around until one with a grizzled beard swung his arm into the red-haired man’s jaw. The punch was sound and hit home. As the red-haired man stumbled backward, the bearded man ignored Scotty’s yells and slammed the other man against the bar counter. As they both spluttered and breathed heavily, and the redhead kicked his assailant hard in the gut. Scotty and other workers didn’t hesitate in separating the two angry men. They yelled curses at each other, each in their own drunken rage. Bucky didn’t pay attention after that. Scotty always handled bar fights quickly and efficiently. Each squabble ended as quickly as it started.
Bucky never got involved in bar fights. He knew he was capable enough to handle whichever idiot who decided to throw a few punches, but Bucky didn’t like the attention it would undoubtedly bring and didn’t trust himself to only knock out someone at the most.
No one really understood what Hydra had done to his brain, but Bruce Banner and Tony Stark were trying to dig up any stray Hydra files and documents about him with the help of Nick Fury. Bucky knew that the Winter Soldier wasn’t completely flushed out of his system. He still retained the memories of those years, and he still had all the skills that Hydra had given him. He was still skilled at hand-to-hand combat. He could speak multiple languages. He knew too many ways to kill a man with any weapon you could name.
He also suspected that they had done more to his mind than brainwashing. He felt an urge to fight. His adrenaline would spike and the back of his mind told him to attack. He hated it. He knew how destructive he could be, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He hadn’t told anyone about it, but he sparred with Steve and Nat a lot. He claimed it was to give them practice, but it was really because the Winter Soldier was pushing him to fight. So he did.
This thought only made him more broody as he crunched more fries in his booth in the corner. As the bar got more and more crowded, Bucky’s felt more uncomfortable. He was wearing a dense jacket and gloves to hide his metal arm. He wasn’t a criminal anymore, but that didn’t mean he was popular with the public. He always hid his high-tech prosthetic when he went outside. He remembered how Hydra showed off his arm. Hydra scientists would come to gawk at him and admire the workmanship of his arm. Hydra always wanted to show off, and this was evident even in his tactical gear, which cut off his left sleeve, exposing the arm to show Hydra’s power and advance in technology.
He surveyed the room again, an old habit from when he was on the constant lookout for threats. A group of men and women, probably co-workers, crowded around the pool table, laughing and talking. Two girls were having a contest to see who could drink the most shots the fastest. The bar was as busy as ever, and Scotty fixed drinks right and left, yelling behind the counter for more bottles of beer.
When Bucky finished his fries, he walked up to the bar. He wanted more, and he only liked ordering from Scotty. Scotty was the only person at the bar who seemed willing to talk to Bucky. The other people who worked there tended to steer clear of Bucky, probably because of his death glare reserved for just about anyone.
Bucky sat and waited for his order at the bar, taking some interest in the football game showing on the TV. He was still fascinated by modern technology. It was kind of ironic, considering he had one of the most advanced pieces of tech serving as a left arm.
He felt a shift in the air as someone came and sat in the seat next to him. It was a woman, most likely in her late twenties. She wore a green dress that was tight around the waist, but was otherwise surprisingly modest considering the place she was in. Her brown hair spilled over her shoulders and she wore eyeliner that was put on in a hurry, with smudges in the corners. Bucky regarded her for a moment and then turned his attention back to the football game. The woman ordered three shots and downed the first in one gulp, wincing from the taste.
“What brings someone like you to a bar like this?” A man in his late forties sat in the seat on the other side of the woman. He looked her up and down, “And where did you happen to get a dress like that?”
The woman drank her second shot and ignored him. The man turned in his chair to face her. He wore a polo shirt under a blazer, Bucky guessed that he was probably a businessman. He showed off an expensive Rolex watch on his arm, and his cufflinks shone brightly in the neon lights.
“Hey,” the businessman was still trying to get the woman’s attention, “I’m Travis Hammer. What’s your name, pretty lady?”
The woman slumped over, tired, “Marlene.”
“Marlene. Marlene, Marlene, Marlene, Marlene,” Hammer repeated the name as though it was the first time he’d ever heard it, “You know, that’s a beautiful name. It suits you.”
Marlene looked wary, “Listen, I don’t want to-”
“Uh-uh. Shhh. I think that this place is too public, do you wanna find somewhere more private to chat?” Hammer shushed her, holding up his hands. Bucky could see a wedding band on his left hand. He wasn’t even being subtle.
Marlene looked ready to slide out of her seat, and Bucky could see how uncomfortable she was. Her breathing was shaky, she fiddled with her hands, and she didn’t make eye contact with the businessman.
Bucky looked over at Hammer and muttered, “I think you should leave her alone.”
His eyes narrowed, his bald head reflecting the lights, “Buddy, I don’t think you were a part of this conversation.”
“I guess I’ll have to make myself a part of this conversation if you don’t leave.” Bucky stood to face Hammer, who stood as well. Hammer was built more like a bodyguard than a businessman, but that didn’t intimidate Bucky. Marlene shrunk back into her seat, not eager to be a part of the attention that was being drawn by the two men.
“You can’t make me leave, you don’t work here,” Hammer looked Bucky straight in the eyes, getting defensive, “I was just talking to the lady here, and you decide to overreact!”
“All I’m asking is that you find somewhere else to get a drink,” said Bucky calmly.
“You’re not gonna tell me what to do!” Hammer slammed his glass against the counter and it shattered on impact. The bits of glass that got in his hand didn’t deter him, it only made him angrier. He swung an irate fist at Bucky, who quickly sidestepped, grabbed his arm and pinned him against the countertop, twisting his arm.
“Even if you don’t leave, Scotty’s gonna kick you out,” he mumbled in Hammer’s ear. As Hammer strained against Bucky’s grip, he felt the metal gears in his arm click and whir, adjusting to Hammer’s weight. Bucky roughly let go of Hammer as he gingerly held his arm.
“What is wrong with you, man?” Hammer’s eyes narrowed as he backed away from Bucky. Scotty and his other employees stood warily a few feet away, ready to intervene if more punches were thrown. Hammer stumbled backward, muttering under his breath, shaking out the pain in his arm, and he was escorted out by the employees, who gave him a rag to soak out the blood on his hand where he shattered the glass.
Slowly, the buzz of people talking and clinking of glasses began to fill the bar as people returned to their own conversations. Bucky was surprised that he hadn’t been kicked out by Scotty, but he was glad to stay. He didn’t want to go back to Stark Tower until everyone there went to sleep. Well, everyone except Tony, who was constantly in a coffee-induced state of mania, working on whatever new project or update he could think of. But other than that, Bucky knew everyone would go to sleep at a decent hour, and he wanted to slip back into the Tower without any disturbance.
Scotty was cleaning up the broken glass on the countertop, so Bucky took his fries to go sit somewhere else. He shuffled off, sitting back in a booth to finish eating. A few people looked in his direction, but most people didn’t notice him, too busy with other distractions.
Bucky finished his fries and threw the container in the trash can. He put a wad of cash on the table, not caring if he got any change back. He figured the waiter would appreciate a tip. Then he left the bar and stepped outside, breathing in the cold air.
It was cold and dark outside, with only streetlamps to give light. Each building stood tall and silent, a fortress foreign to outsiders. Other than the streetlamps, the only other light came from the windows of the bar and the signs outside of it advertising the business. A little bit of the glass that Hammer had smashed had gotten into Bucky’s gloves, so he took them off the shake the glass out. His right hand only had a few nicks and scratches, but his metal hand was as flawless as ever. His metal arm was bulletproof so the glass wouldn’t be able to make a scratch. He headed in the direction of the nearest bus stop to go back to Stark Tower in Manhattan, not bothering to put his gloves back on since he was alone.
He heard clicking of shoes against the road, and he turned to see the woman in the green dress, Marlene, hurrying over to him. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets to conceal his metal arm.
“Sir, hello-hi. I just wanted to say thank you,” she was slightly out of breath from nearly jogging in tall black heels, “I just had a really bad day, and you really helped with getting that creep away from me, so...thanks.”
“No problem,” Bucky muttered, hunching over, not sure what to say.
“My name’s Marlene,” she stuck out her hand to shake his, “What’s yours?”
Bucky was grateful that he only had to use his right hand to shake hers, not his metal appendage, “It-it’s James.” Technically true. He knew he had no reason to distrust Marlene, but the Hydra part of him didn’t like to trust, only to complete whatever mission was assigned.
“Where are you headed, James?”
“Manhattan.” Also technically true.
“Really? Me too. I’m staying with my sister in Manhattan,” After a pause, Marlene asked, “Could you walk down to the bus stop with me? I’ve never really been around here before. I came here for a stupid job interview that fell through,” she sighed, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I came here all alone.”
Bucky shrugged, “I’m already headed to the bus stop so we can walk together.”
They set off, Bucky walking slower than normal so Marlene could keep pace with him in her high heels. Bucky kept his hands in his pockets, staying silent. When they reached an alleyway, Bucky started walking to it, but Marlene grabbed his arm, “Do we have to go through the alley? It’s kind of sketchy, especially in the dark.”
Bucky turned to look to Marlene, “I usually use this alley as a shortcut, but if you don’t want the go through it we can get to the bus stop another way.”
Marlene peered down the alley, “It’s okay, the alley doesn’t seem too long. And a shortcut would be nice, my heels are killing me.”
They started walking down the alley, the only sounds coming from Marlene’s heels. It was mostly dark, faint light coming from far away streetlamps. The alleyway was a dividing road between buildings that businesses would rent out. Dumpsters lined the alleyway, casting dark shadows all around.
Then Bucky heard some shuffling, and some shadows up ahead solidified into people, hoodlums hanging around the alley. They hunkered down, wearing big jackets with their hoods up, to protect themselves from the cold, conceal their faces, or both. They huddled together, talking quietly to each other. Bucky tensed up as he and Marlene walked closer by the group to pass them. He could hear Marlene’s shaky breath, and she walked closer to the alley wall, as though she wished she could disappear in the shadows, away from the others.
The clump of hoodlums blocked the alleyway just as Bucky and Marlene tried to pass them. There were five of them, all in some sort of jacket or hoodie. Their gaunt eyes hinted some form of substance abuse, but they stood tall, ready to confront Bucky and Marlene, who were forced to stop walking.
“Looks like you picked the wrong night to go for a walk,” one of the guys in a red hoodie stepped forward. With a soft click, he pulled out a switchblade, and two of the others did the same, “Put your hands above your head,” another said, his voice commanding, “give us your wallets, now!”
Marlene’s hands shot straight up, trembling and shaky, “Please, leave us alone. I ju-just want to get home-please.” She looked over at Bucky, who still had his hands in his pockets.
One guy with a switchblade saw this too, “Show me your hands!” he growled, “Don’t think of doing anything funny!”
Bucky still hadn’t put his gloves on, but he couldn’t think of any way to get out of this situation other than fighting or revealing who he was. He took in a deep breath, steadying his mind. He couldn’t afford to do any permanent harm to this gang of muggers. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but having witnesses around made things complicated.
His train of thought was interrupted when Red Hoodie charged at him, switchblade at the ready. Bucky easily sidestepped him, and he quickly shifted his weight to punch another hoodlum that came at him. Marlene let out a stifled scream and scurried away from the action. Bucky swung his elbow hard into Red Hoodie’s throat, grabbing his wrist and twisting the switchblade out of his hand simultaneously. The other attacker stumbled to Bucky, getting ready to punch, but Bucky took his arm and slammed him onto the ground in one fluid motion.
Bucky felt his adrenaline rushing, blood pumping in his ears. All of his instincts told him to fight without mercy, to not hold back anything. His senses were screaming at him as he sent one hoodlum flying to the wall with a solid kick to the chest. The other two rushed to Bucky. He ruthlessly threw them down to the ground. Another guy rushed at Bucky with his switchblade, and before he knew it, he felt his metal fingers reaching around the attacker’s throat. The guy gasped for air, and his switchblade clattered to the ground. The other hoodlums stared at Bucky’s metal hand, petrified with recognition.
Bucky knew how easily he could crush the throat of his attacker. He had done it so many times before, so what was the difference now? Bucky couldn’t hear his thoughts over the sound of blood roaring in his ears. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to hear his thoughts, he just needed to trust his instincts. His instincts told him this was another mission. His handlers would punish him if he failed to complete his mission. His grip tightened around the throat of the hoodlum, who tried to pry off the metal fingers. The other four attackers ran out of the alley, not caring that they left their friend behind. They only wanted to save their own skins.
The hoodlum in Bucky’s grip was gasping for air and begging inaudibly when his eyes met Bucky’s. This guy was so young. He was no older than Bucky when he was drafted to go fight in the war. The war. Memories flooded Bucky and he quickly let go of the young hoodlum, who clutched his throat, gulping in cold air. He scrambled away from Bucky as fast as he could.
Bucky stared at his mismatched hands, nauseated with himself. He’d spent all this time trying to convince himself that he’d shaken off the tight grip Hydra had on him, but he was wrong. He’d lost control and almost killed a civilian. Shame washed over him, and he buried his face in his hands. He didn’t have to be controlled by Hydra to be a monster.
He heard a clatter and whirled around, tense and ready to face another threat. Marlene stood frozen, eyes wide, like a deer in the headlights. A trash can lid had fallen as she tried to slip out of the alley without Bucky noticing.
“I’m….I’m not going to hurt you,” Bucky spoke a little above a whisper.
“Really?” Marlene stayed a few feet away from Bucky, “Because it looked like you were going to do more than hurt that gang back there.”
Bucky hung his head, “I don’t do that anymore. I don’t know why, but I….” he trailed off. He didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t what?” Marlene wasn’t satisfied with his answer, “Beat up people in the alleyway? Fend off creeps at bars? Assassinate people for years on end? What is it you even do?”
So she knew. Of course she knew. Everyone knew about the Winter Soldier, and his metal arm was a dead giveaway. There had been an uproar when he went to court. Some people thought he was innocent, a victim of Hydra. Surely Captain America’s best friend would be a good guy. Others wanted blood. He had killed and tortured without blinking an eye. He had become Hydra’s pet, following their every order. Miraculously, he had been acquitted by the jury, who had decided that he had been Hydra’s victim rather than their accomplice.
Bucky looked up at Marlene, “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he paused, trying to form a sentence, “I don’t really care if I help people, either. I just-I just don’t want to be dangerous,” he didn’t know what to say other than that.
Marlene broke the silence, “I watched your court case on television. U.S. versus Barnes. The evidence that the defense dug up, it was…” she shook her head, “It’s just hard to believe that even a cult like Hydra is capable of putting one person through so much trauma and torture.”
“I had good lawyers,” Bucky muttered, “They did a better job than they needed to.”
“What does that mean?”
Bucky shrugged dejectedly, not making eye contact, “Should I even be out here if I could just hurt more people?”
“You think you should go to jail?” Marlene shook her head, “Shouldn’t you be happy that you got acquitted?”
Bucky shifted on his feet, “I want to be out here. I want to be better,” he looked down and mumbled, “I just don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can ever get Hydra out of my head.”
Marlene raised her eyebrows, “You just need to give yourself some time. How long did Hydra even have you?”
“Around seventy years.”
“Seventy years? That’s longer than my dad lived. How long have you been public? Six months?” Marlene’s gaze softened, “You need to give yourself time. Getting rid of seventy years worth of damage will take a while. You need to be patient with yourself.”
Bucky met her eyes, “Thank you,” he said softly, “It’s just so complicated.”
Marlene smiled sadly, “I won’t pretend to understand everything that happened, but I’m sure that all your superhero friends will help you out.”
“I hope they will.”
“What are they like?”
“Hmm?”
Marlene blushed timidly, “What is it like at Stark Tower? You get to hang around literal superheroes. What are they like?”
Bucky let out a small chuckle, “They’re a lot more like real people than you’d expect.”
“Such as?” Marlene was eager for answers, “What’s Tony Stark like?”
Bucky sighed, “Tony Stark is an absolute madman,” Marlene’s eyebrows shot up at that comment, “He’s a good guy, but he seriously never sleeps. He’s always working on one of his suits or something. But he’s been good to me, letting me stay at Stark Tower. I know he does a lot more than you’d think to help people out. Bruce has been good to me too. He’s using all his Ph.D.'s to help figure out what’s in my head.”
“And Thor? Please tell me you’ve met Thor.”
Bucky shook his head, “No, not yet. But I’m sure that he’ll show up whenever humanity is put in danger again.” he chuckled, “At least that’s what Steve tells me.”
“Is Steve really like the Captain America we see on TV?”
Bucky’s face lit up, “I don’t know what I’d do without Steve. He’s honestly the only reason I was able to get through the trial. Sam has been supportive too, but it’s not the same. It just really helps me to know that there’s someone else in this world who knew me before….” his voice trailed off. He smirked, “I’ll let you in on a secret. Steve has the mouth of a sailor.”
Marlene’s eyes widened, “Seriously? Mister goody-two-shoes-preserve-our-national-values? You sure we’re talking about the same person?”
“Definitely. He’s good about watching himself on screen,” he chuckled softly, “I’d be terrible at it. Steve’s always had a foul mouth, even before the serum.”
“It would be so amazing to live in Stark Tower,” Marlene mused.
“Well, it does get kind of chaotic sometimes, but it’s nice.”
A beeping came out of Marlene’s purse, and she pulled out her phone. Someone was calling her, and she answered it, “Hey Sabrina….um, I don’t know how it went, we’ll just have to see….yeah, sorry, I got a little held up….of course….see you soon, bye.”
Marlene turned to Bucky, “My sister called. I didn’t realize how late it got, with the bar and the muggers and everything.”
“Of course, sorry,” Bucky looked down, “I should probably get back to Stark Tower too,” he looked back up, “I’m really sorry about what happened. I-I hope that you get that job.”
“It’s okay,” Marlene was sincere, “You just need to remember that you need to be patient with yourself.”
“Do you still want me to walk with you to the bus stop?” Bucky hesitantly asked.
“Sure,” Marlene said, “You’ve definitely proved that you can keep us safe.”
Bucky nodded, “I guess I have.” Bucky put on his gloves, and he saw Marlene trying to catch a glimpse of his infamous left hand, which he disregarded. They made their way out of the alley to the street, walking in comfortable silence. Marlene and Bucky arrived at the bus stop just in time to see the bus come down the street to pick up people.
Marlene turned to face Bucky, “I guess this is my ride.”
Bucky nodded.
“I just want-I want you to know that you’re not a bad guy,” Marlene blurted, “I know you’ve gotten a lot of hate from the public, but I think you’re a good person.”
Bucky was at a loss for words, “Th-thank you,” he said softly, “I think you’re the first civilian to say that.”
“And thank you for helping me out….with everything,” Marlene said sincerely, “It was good to get to know you, James,” she held out her hand to shake his.
“It’s Bucky,” he said as he shook her hand.
Marlene smiled, “Maybe I’ll see you around as you go save the world with your buddies….Bucky.”
With that, she turned around and headed to the bus, not looking back. Bucky walked away from the bus stop quietly. He knew that he needed to get help when he went back to Stark Tower. He’d almost lost control for the first time in six months. But Marlene had given him hope. She believed that he was a good person, that he could maybe be like that hopeful young man he’d been seventy years ago.
Hope like that didn’t come every day. The only thing Bucky could do was hope that she was right.