Good Graces
During the early morning ride to her best friend's home a sense of urgency makes a home in Christina's chest and burns there, listening to the radio as she sits in traffic. Hearing more about the attack and systematic dismantling of S.H.I.E.L.D. makes her realize the magnitude of yesterday's events and what it may mean for her and Jamie.
With the fall of a major intelligence and counter-terrorism agency there is no doubt that other agencies will be closing ranks and checking into the background of their agents, but also tearing into that of the agents that were formerly employed by S.H.I.E.L.D. Even more so the lives of known Hydra members and their families, which would mean Christina and her son. Suddenly as she sits in stand-still traffic, she realizes that the FBI or the CIA aren't her only problem. With the failure of Project Insight and subsequent reveal of Hydra within the walls of S.H.I.E.L.D. it's safe to say that any remaining members of the Neo-Nazi terrorist group would be scrambling in the fray.
As the traffic lifts, she makes a u-turn for her home on Prospect Street, realizing the chaos will give her the opportunity she'll need to slip any of her father's agents who may be under orders to secure her in the event of something like this— Rumlow perhaps, maybe Rollins? And, as close as she is to Brock, there's no doubt in her mind that he had a hand in bringing Project Insight into play, and that she can't have him getting close to her or to Jamie. So by the time she pulls up outside her best friend's home, she's made up her mind. They have to disappear. Even if just for a little while. Long enough for the dust to settle at the very least.
She packs up important documents, all the necessities, everything her one year old might need or want, as well as enough clothes to get them by for a couple weeks. With all the essentials packed and ready to go, Christina assures herself that this is the right thing to do. Winter didn't come for her. If he hadn't the night prior, even with new found freedom thanks to the scrambling of what remains of Hydra, then he's unlikely to do so in the near future. And, the single mother regrettably doesn't have the luxury to wait for him, not when some odd Hydra member could remember their existence and sweep them into obscurity.
By 9 AM she arrives at her destination. Marching up to Deja and Aarav's Capitol Hill Rowhouse, Christina is greeted by Aarav before she can even make the front stoop. His face is serious, if not concerned, as he opens the door for her and the blonde dashes through the entryway. "Jamie and I have to leave," She starts saying, making a bee line for her son. The boy, of course, is brimming with joy to see her, after an entire night away from his mother. The little boy raises both arms, grabby hands opening and closing in a gesture that he wants to be carried.
Christina scoops the boy up, checking him over before tucking him against her hip. "I can't tell you anything right now, but I promise I'll get in touch once I'm sure everything's alright." She turns to her friends and is met by stern, unsettled expressions. The married couple are concerned, if not cross about something and it puts the single mother on edge. Christina is fairly sure she knows what about. By now it's been nearly seventeen hours since Black Widow as dumped all of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra's encrypted files on the internet. At first they were unintelligible, but after a few hours at the mercy of a good hacker the secrets began to spill.
On Deja's face is written everything she needs to know; this discussion will not be an easy one. "Did you know?" Deja says after a long pause. The television is playing in the background, yet another news report on the turmoil of the government in the wake of yesterday's events. Christina gives her best friend a withering look, even as the brunette continues. "Did you know about Hydra and your father?" Christina heaves a frustrated sigh. What to say? Spill the truth? Withhold information? In this situations what's the greater good? "Did you know what was going to happen at the Triskelion?" The look on Deja's face is legitimately horrified, as though she might believe Christina have to been in on it. "I can't talk about this. I have to g—"
"Did you know your father was a fucking Nazi, Chris?! The question is not that hard!" Covering her son's ears, the blonde gives her friend a shaken look and begins to gather up her sons's belongings. His little toys, his favorite blanket, his sippy cup. Her reaction, of course, is all the answer. "Of course you did! Did you know his terrorist group was organizing an attack on the city we live in and didn't tell anyone?"
As Christina moves about the living room gathering her child's things, Deja berates her with questions, angry and hurt that everything she thinks she'd known had been a lie. Christina and Alexander Pierce are one thing, but Hydra, the attack, the fall of a government agency? What's the truth, how many lied had she told in all the years they'd known each other? Is there anything to Christina Pierce that's real?
"I didn't know who to trust, okay?!" Cries the single mother, "I wasn't sure how high it went, who was Hydra and who wasn't!" Christina's eyes are wide, crazed, brimmed with tears, as she cradles her son close to her. "Telling someone could have meant a death sentence! Not just for me, but for Jamie! I couldn't let them get their hands on my son. You have no idea the things they would have done to us!" No matter the cost, not matter the toll, James is all that she has. Winter is gone, her father is dead, her friend is all but turning on her, but no one will harm her son and for that it was all worth it; morality be damned.
Deja's eyebrows furrow and Aarav places a calming hand on the pregnant woman's shoulder. As a mother to be, it's a notion that the brunette can comprehend but not fully understand. She would do anything to protect her child too. But, Christina's circumstances aren't the kind that can be swept under the rug as maternal instinct. "Who is Jamie's father, Chrissie?" Deja questions, but knows by the fierce defensive glint in her best friend's blue eyes that she doesn't intend to enlighten her. "I can't tell you."
Between them little James gurgles curiously, tugging at his mother insistently, not understanding the commotion. His fussing quickly defuses the thick tension. "Please know that I didn't know all of this would happen, but Jamie and I have to get out of town." And, with that Christina shoulders her diaper bag and makes for the door. Deja slumps, defeated, onto the couch and hangs her head, but Aarav dashes forward and stops the blonde as she's pushing her stroller out the front door.
"Listen, I get that something's wrong and I don't believe you had anything to do with yesterday's attacks. Family is the most important thing and no matter what Dey is saying, we want you and the little guy to be safe." He says, passing an wad of bills and a sticky note into her hand. "It's not much, but I want you to take it. And, take this too," Christina reads to yellow scrap of paper and discovers an address scribbled in Aarav's neat writing. "It's my sister's place. It's empty right now because they're vacationing in Goa. It's a safe place for you to lie low until everything settles down." And, Christina gratefully takes his advice.
After a week and a half tucked away in the suburbs of Baltimore, undisturbed by neither Hydra, nor the FBI or CIA, Christina becomes confident that they might be able to return to D.C. and go on with their lives. But, to be safe the single mother searches up local apartments and available careers in the Baltimore area, in the event they need to run again. A move that she's glad for in the near future.
Christina's life is essentially demolished after the public learns of her father's affiliation to Hydra. Though she, surprisingly, isn't brought in by any government agencies— yet— everyone that knows her father looks on her with a critical eye. No one aside from Deja has directly questioned the extent of her knowledge, but she can see the looks on their faces. So she isn't surprised when she's called in to the conference room by Anika and Lisa.
The fixer knows how this conversation is going to go from the moment she enters the room. But, she can't deny the disappointment the sinks into her gut when her bosses ask her to resign. "In light of what's happened in the last week, we're afraid that we'll have to terminate your employment with us." Lisa says, face pained and eyebrows knitted. The blonde nods, but it's hollow, empty, void. "I'm so sorry, Christina. We'll give you glowing recommendations where ever you go, but we can't allow you to stay." Anika tries to comfort but the single, now unemployed, mother is stoic, like all of her emotions have clammed up and receded inside of her.
With little other options Christina decides to move herself and her son to Baltimore, with the help of Aarav— who's trusted cousins are more than happy to babysit Jamie— and a Valkyrie contact— who owes her a favor. She goes on ahead, taking a few days to find a secure place for them to live and a new job that will pay enough for her to continue providing for her son. When the perfect home is procured and a great company happily hires Gaby Barnes, she returns to D.C. and packs up her entire life into twelve boxes— this time without Rumlow there to assist her.
In fact she doesn't know where he is, she hasn't seen hide nor hair of him since shortly before the attack on the Triskelion, if he'd died in the collapse he was never named among the casualties, and if he'd survived then he'd made to move to reveal himself. He's either gone into hiding or still buried beneath the rubble, and to be honest Christina doesn't know which she prefers. He'd been good to her, to her boy, but he still wanted to kill millions of people for Hydra to enforces their new world order. She can't stand for that, no matter what good she'd seen in his past, so she's grateful for his absence.
With a pair of new aliases and all the corresponding documents to boot, Gabriela Christine Barnes and Jamie Grant Barnes settle into their new lives in Baltimore, Maryland. Christina easily falls into the role of Gaby Barnes, takes well to her new job as an in-house compliance attorney for a local mortgage loan servicing company. It's terribly boring, but it's a good job. She's makes enough money to pay for their gated community home, enough to provide all their necessities, enough to spoil her one and a half year old; all of this without having to dip into her savings.
Soon the world moves on from the attack at the Triskelion. Her father's name— though sullied— is swallowed by the media, all digested and forgotten in the wake of other news, new stories. A debate over national security and more routine background checks become the focus from San Diego to Boston. Every government agent across the country is given a thorough look over. And as the searches are made, the nation begins to worm out the cockroach Hydra bastards that had been hidden away within their walls.
Gaby and Jamie Barnes go on with their lives. The part of them that longs for the Winter Solder, for James Buchanan Barnes, for the absent father— begins to dull. Gaby focuses on work, turns down dates, and flirty co-workers, and good natured blind dates. Everyone tells her that she's a model parent, even being a single mother. And, it's clear to everyone that meets him that little Jamie isn't lacking in any love, even without his father in the picture.
Even though their new place isn't the Georgetown Colonial that Christina had painstakingly cared for, decorated, loved— they settle into their gated community house and make it a home. It's a nice place; two storey, two bedroom, two bath, an attached garage. They get an emotional support animal. An adorable little black and white Siberian Husky, with steel colored eyes that remind her of her lover's— make her ache for the old domestic instances. The Soldier would like it here, tucked away from the world. A little universe all their own with their son and their dog. They name the puppyWinter in his honor. Jamie is pleased with his new playmate, his babysitter, their new house. He and Christina are happy in Baltimore, until they aren't anymore.
Across a great ocean, on the other side of the world, five thousand miles apart, the Winter Soldier lies low in Bucharest, Romania. He gets a shitty little apartment— with what money he can theoretically beg, borrow and steal— and keeps to himself as he attempts to pick up all the little shards of James Buchanan Barnes and piece him back together. A broken, jagged, mirror image. Tries to mold himself anew. Not the war hero, Howling Commando, best friend of Steve Rogers (Captain America??), honorable man. But, not the cold, mechanic, Winter Soldier either. The first six months are suffering and hell, but much less so than the last seventy years— so he calls it progress.
Some days are harder than others. After the money he'd made— on the ship he'd stowed away to Romania on— has near dried up, he's forced to turn to day labor. The people are nosey and a little discriminatory, but he can pay his bills and feed himself. The former Asset finds that to be the most tedious, has to remind himself when it's meal time, that real people eat three times a day. When the memories return, he misses Christina's cooking. Sometimes he even thinks he might remember his mother's.
Some days the sun rises and his mind is cloudless and clear, he can work and shop at the market, and quietly help his little old neighbors with errands. Other days the night terrors are so rampant his neighbors are banging on the wall demanding silence. His mind's eye is painted red with blood. So much on his hands, names and dates stamped in history, smeared in crimson. Sometimes the horror, the dark, the cold, is so vast and endless that it becomes an abyss. A void, a black hole that spreads over the emptiness and swallows him whole.
He wakes screaming with the memory of each kill, every string of fate snipped by cold metal hands, snuffed out too soon. Of all the strangers, friends, faces unknown and those he can recall. Some days in the mirror the Soldier sees a broken soul, other days the devil stares back at him with cold, dead eyes, ready to comply. But, by god, does he try. On those days he promises to be a better man. He wants to be good.
The next six months come and go easier than the first. With most of his memories in tact, he tries to arrange the shattered fray. Puzzle pieces with all the wrong edges, nothing quite seems to fit. Where do the two lives in his head end and begin? The cold, stoic murder, the tragic war hero. At the end he's neither, someone in between. Someone hanging in the balance, tugged back an fourth by the two separate entities, both begging for a fighting chance. Sometimes he wants to end them both.
In those instances— cold, stainless steel weapon weighting heavy in his hand— he thinks of his Christina. His lover, the only rare ray of sunlight in his long, long life. Her windchime laugh, her soothing voice, her tender hands. The gold of sunshine in her hair, her eyes the color ocean blue, her lips that shame the reddest rose, the soft column of her throat as he squeezes it in his hand— the not-Winter Soldier crumbles as he thinks of the fear, the tears in her eyes, the resignation when last they'd met.
He could have killed her. Could have snuffed out all her light, her burning flame, along with all the rest. Could have lost the only thing he'd come to care for in his seventy years of servitude. He will cling to those memories— so good, and pure, and kind that he nearly believes them to be a dream. A fairytale concocted in his delirium, to ease his lonely heart. Wherever she is, Not-James, Not-Winter— is glad she's safe and happy somewhere on the other side of the world. The same goes for the man on the bridgeSteve Rogers.
Not-Bucky kept his distance in the months after D.C., from Captain America and his friend with the wings. Samuel Wilson, he learns, is better at tailing him than the Not-Soldier anticipates, but he's able to keep him clear of his little haven in Bucharest. Half of him wants to let the man catch him, help him reconnect with Steve, help him get his mind right. But, at the start he hadn't known who to trust, who was who and what was what. His head was mush and every night he woke with screams that rattled the earth. He'd been a mess, a danger to anyone too close to him, and frankly to himself.
But, he'd worked through it. Hated the man he'd found buried in the rubble of his soul, the war hero, the good man, the man who'd died for nothing, who'd become a monster. Not-Bucky salvages what he can and builds the rest anew, grateful for the distance, happy with the knowledge that Steve and Christina will be safe far away from him. Hydra won't come for him and he won't hurt them by accident. Until suddenly one of them isn't safe anymore.
The commotion in Sokovia, a few countries over, is all over the news as the disaster unfolds and Captain America Steven Grant Rogers, punk who wore newspapers in his shoes and his Avengers are present in the fray— killing murder-bots, escorting civilians to safety, being heroes, laying down their lives. Sort-of Bucky realizes that the only person left from his old life is a stupid, reckless, idiot who's willing to die doing what he believes is right.
He realizes that Steve, Captain America, could lose his life saving the world on any given mission. In the wake of the massive devastation that leaves a crater in the earth and hundreds, maybe thousands, dead or uprooted from their homes— Bucky realizes that time is precious. That by some miracle the two of them came out of ice, existing in the same time and universe with each other again, against all odds, and that every day is precious. So he stops hiding and lets Sam Wilson take him home.
A little more than a year passes before all the seams burst out of the new life that Christina has spun for them in Baltimore, not long after the disaster in Sokovia. With mention of the Avengers and the newly reformed S.H.I.E.L.D. saving lives abroad, the agency's former mess and affiliation to Hydra is once again brought up. Meaning her father, meaning his personal ties that may have had prior knowledge of the attack, meaning herself.
She finds herself sitting in her manager's office for the second time in two years, champing at the bit, and knowing that it's over here too. At the very least the mortgage loan servicing company gives her the week's notice. By Friday she's packing their lives back into boxes and booking a flight for Paris, France. She'd spent the week looking into residences abroad and has contacts in France. After a thorough once-over of her life, she realizes she has nothing holding her to America anymore.
Jamie doesn't understand that they're leaving again, can't grasp the concept because he's so young— nearly two years old now— but Christina can sense his distress. She promises he'll like their new home and prays France will be good to them, at least better than the States have been. The night before their scheduled to fly out, she tucks her fussy little boy into bed after two hours of struggling to lull him to sleep. Jamie is a smart child and extremely attuned to his mother and her moods. When Christina is distressed the little boy always seems to know, seems to mirror her anxiety.
They're both on edge as their final day in Baltimore narrows in and that night Jamie takes a long time falling asleep. When the single mother finally manages to tuck him in, she finds herself in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine and brooding over all the happens in the last year of her life. Christina sighs, trying not to think the could-haves and should-have-beens. Baltimore had been good to them, even if the work had been boring, and she'd been looking over her shoulder at every turn. She's sad to have to leave, but unable to dwell on it any further when her doorbell suddenly rings, yanking her out of her reverie.
Christina casts a curious glance at the entryway, worrying over who could possibly have any business with her at nine o'clock on week day. Arming herself with a taser, the blonde slinks over to the door, checking the security feed before daring to open it. Outside her door are three agents, agents with the newly reformed S.H.I.E.L.D., she presumes. One of them rings the doorbell a second time, more insistently.
"Christina Pierce," the second one calls through the door, startling the single mother. How did they find them? "We know you're in there. You've been living under the alias Gabriela Barnes, but you had to know the agency would come looking for you eventually." Of course she'd known. But, at the time she couldn't know who to trust at S.H.I.E.L.D., who may be Hydra, who might be out to kill them.
The third agent begins to knock on the door, with so much force that it startles the blonde and wakes Jamie in the other room. "We have a warrant for your arrest, Ms. Pierce, but you could avoid causing a commotion is you chose to come in willingly." With Jamie crying in the distance, Christina puts down her taser on the entryway console and opens the door with a frustrated look. As her son wails in the background, the blonde places her arms on her hips and shoots the team a dirty look. "Arrest me then, but put hands on my son and know I'll end you all." The agents allow her to collect Jamie and their necessities before carting them into a black SVU and off to a secure location.