This is not the Endgame

Later that week, Bucky pulled up to a gas station after a session with his therapist. He loved motorcycles, the intimacy of the speed and the air passing over the rider, but he didn't particularly care for the one he had. Steve had given him the Harley Davidson Street 750 before he left. It had great performance, it was all black, but its gas mileage in the city was in the low 30s. And it felt like sort of a fire sale sort of thing, given away because its owner just didn't want it anymore. Didn't want his friendship, either, for that matter. Nevertheless, it ran well and was reliable transportation; Bucky couldn't be bothered to replace it. Couldn't justify it, anyway; free from Hydra conditioning, he'd reverted to his upbringing where everything was worn out before it was discarded. He drove to the garage, parking and walking to The Shithole in the gathering dark. He usually didn't bother with a helmet unless he was on a mission.

In the lobby, he crossed to the maiboxes. The woman with the shiny dark hair--pulled back today in an intricate braid--was cursing under her breath, reading a letter. He withdrew the only mail he ever got--junk mail--and sorted it into the recycling. He took a chance. "Bad news?" he asked, and the woman looked up at him.

"Yeah. It won't affect you until your lease comes up again, but they're going to raise the rents $200 a month. Shit. Most of us barely earn enough for the rent as it is, it's extortionate already." She seemed torn between tears and rage. Bucky wasn't sure what to do.

"I'm sorry to hear that. As you said, it's hard to find affordable housing." He hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll think of something. Probably a second job, if I can find one." She exhaled, then summoned a smile. "My name's Ava. Ava Mignot. I think you live a couple places down the hall from me." She put out her hand. Bucky shook it gingerly.

"I'm... Jim," he decided on the spot. "Barnes." He hated the nickname, but it put another layer between him and the unsuspecting public. It was rare, talking to a stranger, finding cursory commonplaces, and he didn't want to jeopardize his anonymity, especially where he lived. By now, people had accepted the public explanation for the Snap--that an immensely powerful being had the power and used it, that the Avengers had tried and failed to stop him, that they'd managed to finally bring the disappeared people back. The government had said that the means by which they'd done it was classified, and that was that. If they knew the whole truth, it could get ugly.

"Nice to meet you," she said, smiling at him. Huh. That was also rare. "I should have introduced myself before now, it wasn't neighborly."

"This doesn't seem like a really neighborly place," he ventured. She tipped her hand back and forth.

"Depends. The first two floors have most of the people who are ... better left to themselves. There are a couple of drug dealers, some gang members. They're kind of dangerous, but generally, they keep worse off the street outside, so nobody hassles them. If there's a security issue, like someone strange coming into the building, they'll take care of it. Some people, I don't know what they do, but they give off a definite vibe that they'd like to be left alone, and we do. Things are friendlier on the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth floors. Not everybody is open with each other, but we know each other to say hi to, and there's a barter economy going on. You do something for another resident, they owe you a favor, and everybody has some sort of skill. For example, Matt on the fourth floor is a fantastic stylist; he works at a salon, but he'll trade me haircuts for keeping his appliances running. I'd introduce you." Her smile widened, and he pushed his luck a little farther.

"Are you saying I need a haircut?" The ghost of a smile touched his mouth briefly.

"You have such gorgeous thick hair, it's a shame that it's not maximized," she said tactfully. He couldn't figure out if she was flirting with him. Best to assume not. He agreed, and they went upstairs to see if this Matt was home.

"Matty," Ava said, smiling at the tall thin man who opened the door. "We lucked out. I wanted to introduce you to Jim, he's new on third. Wanted to know if sometime I could cash in a favor for a haircut for him. Sort of a welcome to the building kind of thing." Matt and Bucky shook hands. "We don't get the Welcome Wagon here," she said to Bucky.

"You have more favors than you'll ever use," Matt said ruefully to her. "She kept my air conditioner working this summer. I must have had the worst one in the building. She's a mechanical goddess; she has to be, everything around here is shit, including the super," he said to Bucky. "I've got time right now, if you do."

"Thanks. I appreciate it," he said to Ava, and followed the man into his apartment. It was nicer than Bucky's, with bright colors, even if the furniture all looked second hand. Or third hand. Or more. It was all in good repair, at any rate. Matt pulled out the chair at the minuscule kitchen table and brought over a towel and a plastic carrier from brick and board shelving.

"Sorry I don't have time for the full treatment," he said as he draped the towel over Bucky's shoulders and began dampening his hair with a water bottle. "I have to get to work in an hour, filling in for somebody else, but I hate to turn down Ava. She's a great neighbor, a genuinely nice person. And she kept us from sweltering to death the past few months, this side of the building faces east and there's no insulation in the walls. The super says, when something breaks, that the owner only gives him so much money every month for repairs, he's already spent it, he'll put your name on the list. As far as I can tell, three things get fixed every month; the waiting list is five pages long now." He snorted, then started to section Bucky's dark hair. "So I should ask before I start cutting. Long, short? What would you like? Shorter will highlight that handsome face. But longer gives you more options. You can pull it back, or let it swing in your face."

Bucky didn't know what to think. Mostly, as The Asset, they'd kept his hair short for ease; when they'd left it long, it was because they were busy or simply had other priorities. "What would you recommend? That woman--Ava--praised your skills."

The man examined him. "You've got a real man of mystery vibe, long hair would really work for you." He nodded decisively. "I'll cut some layers in, to frame your face and make it look modern and deliberate." He nodded, then clipped more hair aside before picking up some shears. There were a few minutes of silence as the man snipped, comparing pieces of hair from each side of Bucky's face for length.

"So do you have a girlfriend, Jim?" he asked conversationally. Bucky started. It had been a long time since anybody'd asked him a personal question. "Boyfriend?"

"Uh, no," he said.

"The Return screw things up for you too?" Matt asked sympathetically, and Bucky sighed.

"Yeah. I came back, things had changed. A lot." Matt nodded.

"I don't know anybody who wasn't affected by the Snap and its reverse," he said. "My girlfriend--" Bucky was surprised. "I know, people take a look at me, my hair, my profession--" the man's hair was an eye-catching shade of royal blue with white tips, cut short on the sides, long on the top, and had a tendency to flop in his eyes--"Everybody's surprised I'm not gay."

"I'm sorry," Bucky said awkwardly. "I shouldn't have assumed."

"No big deal, there's nothing wrong with being gay. I'd like to put on some muscle, but the only gym around here that I can afford is the old fashioned kind, free weights and a boxing ring. Intimidates the hell out of me. Anyway, my girlfriend was in a plane that was taking off. The pilot and co-pilot were Snapped, the plane plopped back down and ran off the runway at full speed. It was a real mess; somehow Gina got out, but because there was so much chaos, it was awhile before an ambulance got to the airfield and took her to the hospital. We moved here just before the Unsnappening, get some distance, be a little more anonymous. There are a lot of people who were hurt during the Snap; she blends in a bit better. I'm just telling you this because if you see her, I'd appreciate it if you didn't freak out. She usually covers most of the scars with a scarf, though. Once her outside was as beautiful to everyone else as her inside. She had some bad burns, you see."

"I get it," Bucky said. His vivid imagination was a curse sometimes. Impulsively, he had the desire to share. A little. "My family was gone before the Snap. Right after I Unsnapped, my best friend took off to pursue a woman he'd fixated on. Saw him for a couple minutes after that once. It's been hard to find friends since."

"You've got trust issues, got it," Matt said, spraying more water and snipping. Bucky blinked at this assessment. Matt put down the shears and took a tube of stuff, squeezing out a dollop, rubbed his hands together briskly before running his hands through Bucky's hair, singling out bits here and there for more intensive treatment. "Well, there are those of us who do have a community here, we're not just residents in the same building. You can fit in here if you want. Just don't judge people too harshly." He plugged in a hair dryer and trained it on Bucky's head. Conversation, perforce, waited.

Matt snapped off the dryer and carefully combed out Bucky's hair. "So what's Ava's story?" he asked cautiously.

"She's a civil engineer, woefully underpaid. She just earned her masters degree last month, but the supervisor who'd promised her a good promotion when she earned her degree had left for some other company, there was nothing in writing, she got screwed. There's a lot of need, but funds are tight, they say. Sections of the interstates are closed, dams have to be worked on, all of it. Airports, bridges, buildings, tunnels. So places, even government departments, pay peanuts and they can get away with it. There's not the money for salaries or even good benefits, they say, but somehow the big companies like Hammer, Stark, Oscorp, the rest of them are still making record profits while the people who actually do the work have to live in slums like this." His mouth thinned. "She's another who's had it bad. You'll have to ask her for the rest of her story." Then he tousled Bucky's hair artfully. "She seems upset. You know anything?"

"Apparently rent's going up $200 a month with the next lease."

"Shit," Matt said. "Like life's not hard enough as it is. At least we've got a few months before we have to decide what to do. And you're done." He handed Bucky a mirror. Bucky stared at himself; pieces of hair cut into his face from cheekbone to jaw, making him feel kind of protected and enclosed, then Matt swept his hair back. "You can put it into a ponytail or a man bun, if you want, when you're working out or whatever."

"It looks amazing." Bucky was completely honest. He didn't tend to think much about his appearance any more beyond making sure he was clean, nondescript, and not smelly. Unremarkable. Unlike before the war, when he'd delighted in well-polished shoes, brilliantined hair, the sharpest suit he could afford when he was off duty. He'd had ladies to impress, back then. "This is the best haircut I've ever had."

"Another satisfied customer," Matt said complacently, pulling the towel off Bucky's broad shoulders and shaking the hair onto the floor. "Don't use rubber bands to pull your hair back, they'll break your hair off. You can get covered elastics at the grocery store. At home, I charge a favor or $25 per haircut. At the salon, it's $40. Of course, I get only half that, so it actually works out better for me if you don't come there." If there was one thing that Bucky understood well, it was the black market. Well, and abusive employers, so two things. "If you want to do something nice for Ava, she likes chocolate." Bucky did offer a tip, which Matt accepted without a fuss, giving him a business card and telling him what he'd used on his hair, and Bucky headed for his apartment. His right hand kept coming up to check his hair; it felt soft, fluffy, and it smelled very faintly of sandalwood. Nice.

He ran into Ava in the hall. "Wow," she said, her hand coming up, then dropping to her side. "Your hair looks wonderful, Jim." Bucky smiled a little, pleased.

"I appreciate the favor," he said. "Where are you off to?" He hoped this wasn't too personal.

"Found a few places to apply at that are hiring part time. I'd rather not have to look for a new place to stay until I have to, you know? Better the devil you know." He nodded.

"I won't keep you, then." She smiled and headed for the stairs, and he went to his apartment, going straight for the bathroom and stroking his fingers through his hair. It did look pretty fabulous. His agile mind saw that without the styling product and heat styling, the cut wouldn't look distinctive, so he could blend into the crowd still. He shook the hair into his face, but the pieces had been styled to stand out, and it made him nervous. He exhaled hard. He was no longer The Asset, he coached himself. Hydra wasn't looking for him anymore. He was safe. He picked up his plain black leather jacket and headed out. He could do his grocery shopping a little early.

He came back later with bags of groceries, a bag from Target that had a blow dryer (Bucky felt self conscious and uneasy with the purchase of the unfamiliar item, but nobody'd batted an eye) and hair bands. He'd bypassed the cards of colorful ones straight for the card that had twenty black ones on it. And he'd stopped by a salon, steeling himself for a new experience, and the receptionist had helped him find the products, suggesting others at his request. "That's a great haircut," she said. "Who did it?" Bucky had shown her Matt's card. "This guy's wasted there, he's really skilled. Can I keep the card?" Not sure if he was going to get Matt in trouble somehow, he agreed apprehensively. Was it right to help a business poach somebody else's employees? On the other hand, this looked like a nice place and he might be able to make more money. It was just a street farther away from the apartment building, the other way, so transportation shouldn't be much trouble if he got an offer. On his way back to his apartment, he stopped by Ava's apartment. He'd spent some time at the store looking at the chocolate shelves and felt rather paralyzed; he could remember giving fancy chocolates to women he'd dated before the war, and didn't want to imply that this was a come-on; on the other hand, just slinging a bag of mini-Snickers at her seemed a little casual. But better casual than looking like he was angling to get into her pants, so the small, expensive variety bag of mini candy bars it was. She'd smiled at him when he thanked her again for getting him the haircut, so that was good.

He worked hard the next several days; he'd also gotten unscented hair care products for use on the days when he was where he probably shouldn't be. He found himself looking forward to the days when he could use the sandalwood-scented stuff. The shampoo, conditioner, and styling product were also expensive, but he'd warmed to their use pretty fast. He had a lot of money he wasn't using, and it wasn't like personal care products would be putting a dent into his bank account. It was just his early frugal lifestyle.

He met Sam in the comfortable kind of dive bar where nobody much cared who was at the next table and people tended to keep to themselves. It wasn't far from his apartment building and he was feeling slightly more secure. Secure enough to have a favorite bar, anyway. The place was fairly empty, being the kind of bar that doesn't get busy until nine or so, and it was only six-ish. Every now and then the door would open, but Bucky's back was toward it and he didn't look around. A test for himself and his paranoia. Sam probably was the only person he would know, anyway. A blonde waitress came over, flicked cocktail napkins on the table, plonked down a basket of peanuts, and asked for their orders. She walked away, and Sam smiled at Bucky.

"Bucky with the good hair," he said, and was surprised to see a faint smile on the other man in return.

"Another tenant," Bucky said. "Apparently some of them trade favors to make the place more livable." His right hand stole up to touch his ends, then casually placed a small encrypted flash drive on the table by the peanut basket. The results of his latest intelligence analysis. He was going to have to go make a swing through other cities next week. Sam cracked open a peanut, tossed the shell on the ground, then noncommittally picked the drive up.

"Hey, Jim," an alto said just before their bottles of beer were placed on the napkins. "You fellows want glasses?"

"Uh, no thanks," Sam said hastily, kicking Bucky under the table. He started, looking around, and his eyes widened when he saw the brunette.

"Sorry, I was woolgathering," he said, flushing a bit. "This is my friend, Sam."

"Hey there," Sam said, smiling broadly to help control his laughter. The woman smiled back and asked if they needed anything else, then moved on to the next table of patrons.

"Jim?" he whispered, then started to laugh. "I thought you hated that name." Bucky scowled at him.

"I don't love it," he said. "But it's best to be incognito."

"Better remember that it's your alias, then," Sam advised, then took a swig of his beer. "Isn't she from The Shithole?"

"Yeah, the rent's going up twenty percent," he sighed. "She's underpaid at work, Matt said, and she said she was going to try to get a part time job. Guess she found one."

"What does she do?"

"Civil engineer. She just earned a masters degree in August," he said, recalling the conversation he'd overheard. "Didn't get the promotion she'd been promised, apparently." Sam grunted. There was a lot of that going on; the economy was in chaos due to the Unsnappening and a lot of people were taking advantage.

"That sucks," he said. Then they chatted more about innocuous topics. Periodically Ava or the blonde waitress came by to check on them. They must be pooling tips, and Bucky hoped that the blonde wasn't holding them back. Ava was more clothed but friendlier, the blonde wore a short skirt and tighter blouse. They had two beers each and finished the peanuts. "Don't forget there's a team meeting this week," Sam said as they got ready to leave, and Bucky grunted, pushing his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. Sam slapped his right shoulder as they went to the door, and they parted ways on the pavement.