Lost and Found
They hurried down the sidewalk, Anwyn rattling about some book he had never heard of and nuzzling her head to the shoulder that didn’t have his backpack thrown over it. Clearly a distraction meant for onlookers rather than him. He was extremely uncomfortable, but bit back the anxiety rising in his throat. They headed toward a silver two-door car parked at a meter, which he heard unlock automatically at her approach. “In, now.” He obeyed, reaching over and locking it once he was inside. Anwyn slid into the other seat and set her bag on the console between them.
“Stormy?” she said as she pressed her finger into a fingerprint scanner near the steering wheel. To his amazement, the car’s motor purred to life at her touch and a disembodied voice responded “Good afternoon, Sentinel Nightingale. How may I assist?” She smirked when Bucky looked around the car in bewilderment. “DC apartment first. Gonna need maps an’ secluded stops along the quietest route to Los Angeles. Safe-houses too if any are presently unoccupied. Send word ta the others that I’ll be off radar for a bit.” The voice responded “Of course. Route being set for requested destination and your requested information is being uploaded onto your devices as we speak.”
He gripped the handle on the door “So that’s your plan, hide me in one of the biggest god-damned cities in the United States?” the words came out harsher than he intended. She glanced at him, retort dying on her lips and eyes softening as she saw his tension. “For now. I’ve contacts back home ta make this easier but we’re sorta in the wind out here on the east coast. The only person out here I’d trust is currently in South America on a…” She paused. “On a business trip. An’ sunny, beautiful southern California will be the last place anybody will be lookin’ for The Winter Soldier.” She finished with a grin.
Bucky looked away and nodded his acquiescence. “Business trip, my ass.” He thought to himself. “It’ll be on the news tomorrow… some high-ranking cartel jackass’ll turn up dead in his own shower.”
His options were slim, and he was inclined trust her. Memories of her reminded him that she was kind, honest, if a bit blunt. The museum had cemented his suspicions that they were once VERY well acquainted. Additionally, he knew that if she wanted to kill him, she would not have wasted time lulling him into complacency with a promise of help. A small sigh escaped him. He wanted to trust her, and wanted, needed, her help. Anything to have the chance to be something like the man he used to be, whoever that man was. He questioned the wisdom of his decision as the car jerked into traffic, without her even touching the wheel. He gripped the door harder and tried to relax as she turned on the radio. The world was so different now.
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Bucky had spent most of the ride watching the city pass through the tinted window of Anwyn’s car. She’d hummed along to whatever song was on the radio and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. Her voice was soft, pleasant and eased his tension. It was curious to him how she seemed entirely at ease, happy even, in this crazy world. A century old and she was perfectly adapted to the world that had changed so drastically since their youth. When he’d been out of cryo, it had been for a mission and he had never spent much time just observing the world around him. Awe and anxiety washed over him as he eyed the city from the confines of the vehicle.
They passed by building after building, billboard after billboard. Traffic was horrendous in places, and people milled about on the sidewalks staring at their phones. Oblivious to the world around them, but all with somewhere to be. “And I thought Brooklyn had been a busy place…I really don’t belong here. I should have died when I fell off that train.” He shook his head slightly at the thought. As if she sensed his melancholy, Anwyn stopped humming and broke the silence.
“Are ya hungry? I know of a good place around here ta get burgers.” He hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he was ravenous. “If you want, I could eat. Its-its up to you.” Came the reply. Hydra conditioning did not allow him to make decisions about even his meals…he had previously eaten only when his handlers had felt indulgent. Frustration welled in him that he was still a sentient puppet, incapable of making the most basic decisions on his own.
Anwyn was having none of his indirect replies. “Buck…Are ya hungry?” she asked again, voice gentle but firm. He jerked a nod, unable to refuse answering a direct question. “Fuckin’ conditioning.” He thought bitterly. Bucky sat silent, still full of frustration and self-loathing. He didn’t deserve her help or kindness. He felt her gaze on him as they pulled up to yet another red light, and turned his head to look at her.
A concerned face peered at him. “Hey, you ok? We can get whatever ya want. An’ ya don’t even have to go in, I can grab dinner an’ we eat in the car.” Drawing in a shaky breath, he nodded at her again. “I’ll eat anything. I don’t really know what I like…can you...can you do that? Just get it to go?” Her eyes softened as she heard his voice waver. “Of course.”
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Thirty minutes later, Bucky found himself sitting in the car at a nearby park and devouring a cheeseburger the size of his face. Nothing had tasted so good as that first bite; food had been bland and sparse when he'd been enslaved by HYDRA. Another burger waited in the bag on the floorboard and a bag of fries sat on his leg. Anwyn, true to her word, had let him wait in the car while she went into a brick building with “FIVE GUYS BURGERS” emblazoned in red above the doorway.
Bucky had waited nervously in the car for her, certain that he was going to be spotted and recognized. Tinted windows or not. His body had flooded with relief when he saw her heading back to him balancing three bags and two large cups in her hands. Instinctively he’d pushed the driver side door open and then jumped out of the car to help with the cups, keeping his head down. The smile she’d given him made him forget himself for a moment, he couldn't remember ever seeing something so warm and beautiful.
Finishing the first burger, he stuffed fries into his mouth and dug the other burger from the bag. “Your appetite hasn’t changed much.” Her amused voice broke through his feeding frenzy and he peered at her inquisitively. “Ya used to be just like this before too, especially after Steve brought ya back from Austria. Eatin’ everythin’ in sight, raiding the pantry in the wee hours.” A soft giggle punctuated the sentence at the end. He swallowed his food. “I don’t remember that… I don’t remember hardly anything…” She chewed thoughtfully on a fry. “You will, I think. In time.” Silence reigned while she nibbled at her burger and Bucky inhaled his second in a few bites.
“Everything is muted, blurry. Like watching a movie from underwater or something. I have parts of memories. One of you arguin’ with…Howard Stark?...You locked him out of his lab and sat in front of the door, aiming a gun at him. Don’t remember why.” Her face reddened at that, though he wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or anger. “He wanted ta send you guys into the field with some of his experimental, untested weapons. Stupidest genius I ever met. Experimental weapons belong in a lab, not a war zone…I was makin' sure he couldn't get to em.” Anywn huffed.
Bucky found himself fighting a grin. “Did we take them with us then?” “NO. Even Howard wasn't dumb enough ta test my patience that day. He tested the rifle he wanted ta give ya after you boys had left. Damned thing nearly blew his stupid hand off.” The grin he’d bitten back surfaced and he looked away before she could see it. She had put the car back in motion as soon as she’d finished the last few bites of her dinner and chattered at him for most of the drive.
Silently, Bucky listened to her telling him about Steve, about the Howling Commandos, and a bit about her work in the Sentinels. Bucky could tell she didn’t want to divulge much about the latter, but he had asked how she was still alive after all this time. So she explained some of the physiological changes that had occurred when she had been altered. His stomach had sank when he realized she had been through hell to become what she was today. He had stopped asking questions, resorting to letting her ramble about current events and books.
Anwyn, looking relaxed and calm on the outside was a raging mess inside. She was having full conversations with herself inside of her head during the drive, telling herself to take him right out of the city before he flipped and hurt someone. “Ya gotta keep it together. You’re all that’s between HYDRA and him. An’ the feds an’ him. Oh, and between him an’ innocent people. No pressure, right?”
Bucky was clearly on edge and if he noticed she was on edge, things could go pear-shaped fast. Worry gnawed at her that something could trigger the Winter Soldier at any given moment. There was no fear for herself; she had fought him before. No, she was afraid for Bucky…and for any innocent people who happened to get into his way.
Deeper, another part of her mourned for him and the future they’d lost. She mourned all he’d suffered and all he’d been. Well remembered was the handsome young man with the fantastic sense of humor. She had fallen for him the first time he’d shot her one of those cheeky grins. “Half the broads in Brooklyn probably did too.” she thought with a tickle of amusement, He’d been so full of life, so confident...and he’d doted on her.
They’d been crazy about each other from the moment they’d met in June of 1943. She’d adored his sense of humor and thoughtful nature… and he’d been infatuated with her wit and determination. They’d received no small amount of grief from Bucky’s brothers in arms and from Howard Stark, who took a good deal of pleasure in ruffling her feathers. Regardless, Anywn and Stark had been close, bickering like siblings...being two geniuses in the middle of a war created a certain bond. Anwyn had been an emotional, neurotic mess when she learned he had been captured…and worse when Col. Phillips had pulled her aside and quietly informed her that Sergeant Barnes had died in action.
It had taken her weeks to leave her room, and for weeks she ate nothing but small amounts of whatever food Howard or whoever had been brave enough to risk bringing her. She’d coded and de-coded things slid under her door but refused to leave the room. Anyone who had tried to coax her out had found themselves dodging anything she could throw.
Finally, it had been Howard who’d dragged her from her room, kicking and screaming obscenities at him…and face to face with one battered but very much alive James Buchanan Barnes. “Better clean up that hair and face dear, you look worse than the man that just walked out of an enemy prison.” Stark had told her smugly as she’d gone silent, gaping at Bucky.
They’d become engaged just days after Steve had brought him and the rest of the 107th back from Austria and married four months later on April 15th, 1944. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she reminded herself that this Bucky was different than her Bucky. Romantic entanglements were likely the last thing on his mind, and that was alright. She didn’t want anything from him; only to help him. She could push aside what she wanted to help him get the second chance he deserved. For the sake of the man he once was, she felt owed him that.
It was early evening when she pulled off onto a quite tree lined street in Glover Park. The “apartment” she had mentioned in DC was actually a nice condo with beautiful landscaping and a private back yard. Bucky peered out of the tinted windows at the modern condo and pretty garden as she pulled the car around to the drive near the back. “This is a lot…nicer… than I expected.” He murmured. She snorted at the comment. “My line of work pays pretty well. A cut from the vaults of every dirtbag arsehole I put in the ground.”
She chuckled when he jerked his head around to stare at her in shock. “The rest of it ends up in the hands of charities. Don’t lookit me like that.” She flashed him a grin as she grabbed her shoulder bag and hopped out of the car. The engine clicked off as soon as she’d stood up. “You comin’ in?” Bucky slowly clambered out of the car, looking around cautiously.
Anwyn had already made it to the back door and was fiddling with a keyring when he shuffled up behind her. “What they wouldn’t give to know about this place…” he thought and then pushed the notion from his mind. He was free of them, and he would never tell them anything that could get this woman hurt. She pushed the door open “Well, here we are. Home sweet home. One of them anyway.” She reached in and flicked a light switch then motioned for him to enter. He obeyed, taking stock of his surroundings.
The backdoor opened directly into the laundry room, beyond that was the dining area and kitchen. The kitchen and dining area were bright and airy, with splashes of sunny yellow and teal blue. Bucky followed Anwyn into the living area, where she tossed her bag onto a plush tan sofa situated across from a fireplace. A few knick-knacks were scattered on the mantle, and a large tree painting hunt above that. Muted, earthy tones made up the color scheme for the living room. The sofa and a chair were flanked with glass end tables adorned with a few photos and a pair of lamps.
The flooring was wood, and highly polished. A soft tan rug filled the floor under the sofa and off-white and sage curtains hung from the windows. A short hallway with three separate doorways opened into what he assumed was two bedrooms and a bathroom. The place was cozy and inviting, and Bucky felt a twinge of guilt at being there.
Anwyn was trying to help him and he was aware he had said very little to her, and had been surly with what little he had said. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure where to even start so he just stared at her for a moment. “Thank you, for this. For helping…I don’t…I don’t want to go back…” he trailed off and looked down. She shifted closer “I know. It will be over my dead body that they take ya again.” His eyes shot up in a panic “or a lot of theirs.” She finished with a smirk.
She walked towards one of the dark doorways and turned on another light. A bedroom in muted tans and browns, with a soft bed and crisp mocha colored sheets. “You can have this room for now, the door across the hall is mine.” She turned on the light in the next room and he saw it was indeed a bathroom. “Not to offend ya, but you are in desperate need of shower. There should be toiletries under the sink, towels in the cabinet across from the toilet.”
He made no move towards the bathroom and she watched him in bewilderment. “Everything ok?” His eyes snapped to hers and he felt panic bloom in his chest as he remembered cold showers. Decontamination. It always came before they wiped him and put him in the pod.
He swallowed hard and shook his head, watching his feet. “Not a shower. Don’t want a shower or cold, please not the cold…” His hands clenched at his sides. “Hey, Bucky, lookit me.” He peered up at her around the bill of his hat and through the hair that had fallen around his face. “We can run ya a proper bath instead. An’ I promise you, the water won’t be cold. It’ll be as warm as you’d like. Want me ta show ya?” He nodded imperceptibly.
“What did those pricks do ta the poor man ta give him such an aversion ta basic hygiene? Gods an’ ancestors, please don’t let me have ta sponge bathe him...” the thoughts ripped through Anwyn’s mind as she fought to quell her own rush of concern. Carefully hiding her emotions, she took slow, careful steps until she was in front of him, looking up into his face.
He was taken aback how tall she was, just a few inches shorter than him. Had she always been so tall? Frustrated at the void in his mind, he couldn’t remember that either. Her hand grasped his metal one and gently drew him to the bathroom. The walls were painted a soft tan and beach-themed decorations were scattered about. A skylight glowed above them as she closed the toilet lid and pushed him down on it. He hesitated but again, complied. As strange as it was to be the house and care of someone he had tried to murder, she set him at ease.
“I’ll be back in a minute, need ta find ya some clean clothes.”
Another memory flitted through his mind. He stood shirtless in front of a bathroom mirror in nothing but his shorts. Anwyn stood behind, with her arms wrapped around his waist, peering over his shoulder as he brushed his teeth. He was shirtless and had both arms; she smirked at him and nuzzled his neck as her hand trailed up his stomach. In that old mirror, he could see mirth dancing in his ice blue eyes as he grinned at her around the toothbrush.
He jerked as he heard the gushing of running water, reality claiming him again. Anywn had returned and was running him a bath. Flooded with panic once more he stood abruptly, fists clenching and breathing heavy. She turned towards him and gently pushed him back on to the toilet seat. “Its alright. How ‘bout I just wash your face an’ your hair in the sink…then you can shave an’ get in the tub when you’re comfortable?”
Cringing inwardly, he knew it was awkward to be touched by woman he had only just reacquainted himself with. Even if he felt strangely comfortable. Even if he HAD been married to her in another life. It was a small consolation that she did not seem bothered in the slightest at the prospect. She was all business. He met her eyes and nodded.
He was uncomfortable with the idea of being touched but reasoned that if she had wanted to harm him, she could have done so long before now. Nightingale had never been one for mind games; she had been quite direct in all of their other dealings. He yanked the cap off and tossed it to the floor, watching her as she slowly pushed the roughed up jacket from his shoulders.
Her fingers trailed up his neck, to his cheeks where she patted him gently. “See? Nothing bad yet, yeah?” He closed his eyes and sighed imperceptibly at the touch. Supportive, warm, devoid of judgment. Soft fingers brushed at his scalp and he felt her pull his hair back and tie it.
She then turned the bathtub faucet off; the tub was three-quarters full now and steaming. Not cold water, just as she said. He closed his eyes again and heard her open a cabinet. A soft towel fell over his shoulders followed by the sounds of splashing of water as she wet her fingers in the bathtub. Dripping fingers carefully traced his brow, cheeks, trailing over his jaw, and down his neck. She rubbed water into the scruff of his beard to loosen the grime there. The water was warm and calming, not at all like the decontamination showers he had become used to. Slowly and gently, she washed his face being careful not to startle him.
It was over faster than he would have liked, decades had passed since he’d felt any human touch that wasn’t violent. He felt a twinge of disappointment as she rubbed a soft tan towel over his face, untied the rubber band from his hair and pulled him to his feet. “Bend over the sink an’ squeeze your eyes shut for me, ok?” He did as she asked and felt warm water on the back of his head, and her gentle fingers working the water and shampoo through his hair, massaging his scalp.
“Feels good.” he mumbled, feeling water running down over his cheeks. He heard her chuckle behind him “Keep your mouth an’ eyes shut, soap isn’t good for either.” He sighed and closed his eyes tighter. She rinsed his hair out and wrapped the towel around his head, pulling him up. Bucky kept his eyes clenched shut as she ruffled his hair with the towel.
He felt her hands leave him. Silence stretched for a few moments and he opened his eyes to peer down at her. “Bath time.” She urged. “Ya got this part or do you need help?” He saw her cheeks redden with embarrassment for the first time since they’d stepped into the bathroom, Bucky nodded at her and bent to remove his boots. “I can manage…” he mumbled. When he stood, she was holding the bar of soap to him and had pulled another towel from the cabinet. “I’ll leave ya to it. Shaving cream and razors are under the sink.” He nodded again and watched the door close behind her.