That's Not Evil
“Out cold, huh, Gretchen?" Bucky remarks.
She doesn't even get the joke.
She does, however, notice how he said her name.
"You said your name was Gretchen," he says, as if he knows what she is thinking. "I heard you tell him. It's nice. Very German."
She nods, and stares at the slightly blue man that is caught between a wall and a metal pole.
Her fingers feel like they're frozen solid now, no longer tingling, and her feet are worse, thanks to Captain Freeze. She can see her warm breath in the icy air, her fingers, toes, and nose blue.
"You'd better get some warmer clothes on," Bucky says, gesturing to her shorts and long-sleeved shirt.
“You're wearing gloves," she notes, flexing her fingers. "I didn't have the time."
"Had them on before," he says, shrugging his right shoulder, the left one stiff.
She glares at the dark smudges under his eyes, the reddened white in them. She regards the lack of rest in his eyes—the most expressive thing at this moment—but doesn't comment.
Instead, she changes the subject.
“My memories are coming back.”
“I figured.”
“I have not said my name before today for years.”
“We know almost nothing about you. I’m glad you know your name, and not only for our benefit. I didn’t like calling you ‘her’ all the time.”
“You wanted me to call myself she.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, I know that knowing your own name is a big step.”
“You didn’t like calling me ‘her’ all the time. Is that why you called me Doll?”
“Uh, yeah. Partially. It’s like a nickname.”
“Like the Experiment?”
“No. A nickname is…”
“A term of endearment.”
“It can be.”
“Yours is Bucky?”
“I am… My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I kept the nickname Bucky in the hopes of avoiding a worse one. Stevie calls me Buck, and I call Steve Stevie or Steve. I actually… Uh, you’re the only one who calls me James now.”
“Is that permissible?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
For once, Bucky’s shoulders are relaxed. Not rigid, or tense, or exhausted. For once, his smile is warm.
“Mind if I keep on callin’ you Doll?”
“That is permissible,” she says, and Bucky’s smile grows.
The moment is broken by Natasha, who returns with the rest of the Avengers in the building.
And then the arresting of a criminal begins.
~
Bucky and Gretchen head down the hallway, Clint passing by with a sleeping bag.
“Why do you have a sleeping bag?”
“Some prankster stole my bed.”
“Why?”
Clint just mumbles under his breath.
“Where will he sleep?” Gretchen asks Bucky.
“Stark probably took it, so a guest room is a dream. My guess would be the couch, but crashing on it would end up with him being teased by Stark, since they’re on the verge of a prank war.”
“A war?”
“The non-bloody kind, if Nat has anything to say about it. So, since Nat would murder Stark if he pranked her to get Clint, Clint will sleep in Nat’s room.”
“I would think that the Black Widow would be fine with blood,” Gretchen says as she stops at her door.
“Not when it comes to pranks when she’s not in the mood. Clint broke his arm once, and then he couldn’t help when some robots held hostages in an appliance store. It’s a rule now.”
“What is a common prank?”
“I’ll show you another time. Clint likes sleeping on the couch, and the whipped cream is hidden behind some barbecue sauce. Or better yet, Stevie’s and my quarters still connect, and we leave the in-between door unlocked in case a key is lost. And he has a sensitive nose.”
“What does that have to do with the prank?”
“A feather can do much for my humor. I’ll show you tomorrow, Doll. I promise. Better get some rest.”
"Please get some of your own. Good night."
"Good night."
Gretchen turns and walks a few paces, but then turns back around.
"James?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me for this."
"I appreciate it all. Even without a name, you taught me how to start seeing myself as human.”
~
Gretchen forced herself to sleep, but she only lasted three hours before she woke up again. Of course, now it’s eleven, since her previous night was filled with low temperatures and former alliances.
She finds Bucky in the living room, with a remote in one hand, a chocolate bar in the other.
"Morning, Doll," Bucky pipes up, offering a smile.
"What is it you're watching?" Gretchen asks, cocking her head as she peers at the screen.
"I was flipping through the channels. For a Tuesday morning, it sure has a lot on."
"May I join you?"
"Sure," he answers, smiling.
Gretchen sits down, and Bucky immediately tears off a chunk of chocolate for her.
"Want a piece?"
"What is it?" She asks.
"Chocolate. It's richer than before, but that means it's sweeter."
"What does it taste like?"
"Cocoa, sugar, and milk."
"I'll try it. Thank you."
Bucky grins as she takes it, smelling the treat, and then she takes a bite, letting it stay in her mouth for a moment.
Her eyes grow wide, and she smiles a bit.
"This is very good."
"I had to sneak out and buy some. It doesn't last long in the Tower."
"Because everyone likes it?"
"If it's sweet, it usually doesn't last long. Cupcakes, bars, cookies, chocolate, muffins, pie. I had a cookie last week, and it was almost eaten by Stark."
"Does he wish to die?"
"No, he thought it was Dr. Banner’s."
"I thought he was foolish for a moment. Stark does not have a military background."
"There are two trained assassins in this building, plus you, but two that he has spent time with, and he is not dumb enough to steal food from either of them."
A few minutes of talking and flipping through channels later, Gretchen’s eyes land on the adorable hooligans that race across the screen.
“What is that?" She asks.
"A minion,” Bucky answers.
"Why does it look like a large pill with eyes?"
"That one's Bob, but this is two-thirds into the movie, so it wouldn't make sense if you haven't watched it before. The minions want to work for the evilest boss in the world, and they look for the boss in Orlando, and then they end up in England."
"Do they finish their mission?"
"They find a boss. If I was the boss, I'd train them to punch Nazis."
"That's not evil."
"They're misunderstood."