slipping away from myself - t - darcy/bucky - chapter three
title: every time I'm slipping away from myself (you're the one that moves me like nobody else)
category: mcu; thor/captain america/avengers
genre: romance/drama/humor
ship: darcy/bucky
chapter rating: pg-13
overall rating: nc-17/explicit
word count: 5,496
summary: Steve just wanted his best friend back. But now that he's found him, there's a complication. Bucky agrees to come home under one condition; his wife comes too.
polyvore: [darcy] [jane]
previous: chapter one, chapter two,
every time I'm slipping away from myself (you're the one that moves me like nobody else)
-novel-
III.
[Present - 2015 - Portugal]
Sam was grinning. "I'm sorry… The first time you met your wife, she tasered you…" He held his hands up. "I take back my first opinion; I think I like this girl."
Steve snorted faintly, but was watching Bucky, who looked a little less stressed. He frowned, however, as the name sparked a memory. "Jane Foster... I think I read something about her. The Einstein-Rosen Bridge; that's what brought Thor here the first time…" He shook his head, trying to remember the files he'd read on each of his teammates three years earlier. "But it wasn't in Lamy; it was in Puente Antiguo. There was no mention of an assassination attempt, not on record anyway."
"SHIELD never met Darcy," Bucky said.
"Well, don't leave us in suspense," Sam encouraged, staring up at him. "How'd it go from tasering you to marrying you?"
Bucky looked back at him and then to Steve, who shrugged. "I'm curious, too."
Sighing, Bucky finally took a seat in the arm chair, licking his lips as he stared down at the coffee table.
[2007 - Lamy, New Mexico]
The handlers weren't happy, but he assured them he had a lead on where they were going. It wasn't a lie; not exactly. Foster wouldn't abandon all of her work; she wasn't the type. During the time he'd observed her, her work was her life. It occurred to him that he could take her findings and leave, but he had been ordered to kill her and burn the information. For now, it would remain intact, if only to lure her back.
It took three days before the truck reappeared; it was early, just after seven in the morning, when he heard the rumbling noise of the pick-up. Sleeping for him was more like dozing; the simplest of sounds could wake him. Turning up the listening devices, he started gathering his supplies and suiting up.
"Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?" Lewis was yelling as they entered the building. "There was an assassin, Jane! A freaking assassin. Logic says that you do not go back to the place that the assassin knows you live and work, because said assassin still wants to kill you. Especially since your very dedicated, very beloved intern, tasered him in the face!"
"I can't just leave it here, Darcy," Foster replied, exasperated. "Do you have any idea how long I've been working on this? Everything my career has been leading to, everything I worked for, is in this room. Now help me get it into the truck, okay? Like you said, there's an assassin looking for me and he could show up any second."
"Uh, yeah, which is why I have my taser charged! Remind me again why we don't have some kind of FBI shadow helping us with this?"
"Because. The cops still haven't forgiven us for that time Erik got drunk and streaked through that parade. They didn't believe me when I talked to them… And also because the last people I want poking around my work is the government; they'll confiscate everything."
"Jane, listen to yourself. All of this is just paper. The real stuff is in your head. It doesn't matter if they confiscate it, because at least you'll be alive. To, you know, recreate it!"
Foster sighed. "It's not the same. I can't remember everything; that's why it's written down, so I can look back at what I've already done. You need data to prove things. Everything I've done already would have to be redone, in the same circumstances, with the same results, or it's moot. I'd have to start over from scratch. Now will you please stop arguing with me and help me get this loaded?"
"Fine. But if the assassin comes back and I get hardcore murdered, I hope you remember me and my sacrifice gets some serious coverage."
"Oh my God, Darcy…" Foster muttered.
The Asset left his room and made his way down to the building; sneaking in through the back like he had before. To make a point, more to himself than anything else, he upturned the cat dish with his foot.
He found them in the living room, loading plastic milk crates with paperwork and folders, emptying out the filing cabinet and compiling everything on the table and desk. The whiteboard was wiped clean and Foster was in the process of unplugging cords from various machines.
"What the hell do you think we're going to do with those, huh? We're just going to wheel all of these into the truck? They weigh a ton."
"I'm not leaving them. I can't build new ones. I don't have the resources to. And I've already got a new site set up for us in Puente Antiguo. We just need to get there." She sighed, wiping her hands off on her jeans. "You know, this could be a good thing. Data readings out here weren't very good. I've been thinking about moving camp for a while."
"To Puente Antiguo? Lemme ask you something, is it any less 'hot as balls' than it is here?" Lewis wondered.
"Well… no. But I'm sure the data will help us."
"Not getting killed will help me. Six credits for this insane internship will help me. Not scraping your face off the floor would really help me." Apparently fed up, Lewis dropped a crate to the floor. "No, you know what, we're going to talk about this… Three days ago, some leathered up crazy dude with a gun came in here to kill you. Do you understand that? Because you keep talking about work and saving your data, but I walked in here and I thought you were three seconds away from being dead, okay? And I know I was the only person to sign up for this internship and you mostly just put up with me because I make good coffee, but damn it, Jane, I consider you a friend. A really good friend, and I don't want you to die, especially not for freaking science!"
Foster went still, staring at the floor a long moment, and then she let out a shuddering breath, rubbing a hand over her forehead. "I know… I know you were scared. I… I was too. Not just for me, but you too. Darcy, you stepped in front of that gun for me. You risked your life and I have never been more scared than when I thought he was going to kill you. Not because he'd kill me next but because you were right there and you were ready to die for me and- And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you didn't matter here. You do! I mean, you're not very good at science and you have very limited knowledge of astrophysics, but that doesn't make you pointless. You're important. You're my friend and I need you here, alive and okay. So just… don't step in front of any more bullets for me, okay?"
"Don't get any more aimed at you and I won't have to."
"Darcy, I'm serious… If he comes back, you need to go. Call for help, hide, I don't know, just… don't sacrifice yourself for me."
Lewis scoffed. "Are you kidding? I had that guy on the ropes."
The Asset twitched, blinking rapidly, his hand flexing on the gun.
He stepped out from the kitchen then, angry at the way he was reacting, at how his mind was struggling against him, at how she kept triggering something he had no control over and he had no idea why.
"Oh, shit."
Foster whirled around, her eyes wide as she spotted him.
"Damn it, I told you so," Lewis exclaimed, stomping her foot. She reached for her bag, but the gun turned in her direction and she paused, letting out a squeak. "Okay, so, about how I tasered you in the face… Whoops?"
He stared at her, his teeth gritted.
Pull the trigger. Just squeeze it. Put her down. Take out Foster. Return to room. Report to handlers. Get picked up.
So easy, it would be so easy. Two bullets and he'd be finished. But instead, he stared at her, standing there, her hand still outstretched for her taser, waiting for an opportunity.
He tipped his head and said, "Leave and I won't kill you."
Maybe it was a test, maybe it was an opportunity that he was offering her; he didn't know.
But she raised her chin up and shook her head. "I told you before… I won't let you hurt her."
"Darcy," Foster stressed.
"No," she answered sternly, lowering her hands and taking a step toward him. "You want her, you go through me."
His lip curled and he squeezed the grip of his gun until it strained under his hand. Cursing at her in rapid, angry Russian, he took two long steps toward her, gun pointed at the center of her forehead. Lewis closed her eyes, cringing, but she didn't backpedal, offering up her boss. Instead, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and stared at him, brow furrowed and breathing rapid.
The Asset ground his teeth together behind his mouth guard, his eyes darting over her face, searching for regret, weakness, but she refused to give him that. There was fear; her fingers were trembling and her eyes were bloodshot with a sheen of tears, but she wouldn't bow her head or walk away or give him any measure of surrender.
It made him twitch, some broken link in his head sparking but not quite lighting up entirely. It was enough, however. He dropped his gun, letting it hang uselessly at his side, and let out a frustrated growl, reaching up to grip and pull at his hair as he turned on his heel and stalked away, muttering to himself, stressed and confused. Why did this keep happening? Why couldn't he just pull the goddamn trigger?
Lewis let out a breath, quick and relieved, and then she moved, crossing the room to Foster, grabbing her arm.
"I don't- I don't get it," Foster whispered to her, looking between him and her intern.
"What's there to get?" Lewis snapped. "He's not shooting. This is where you run."
"But why?"
"Damn it, Jane, this isn't the time for a survey!" She shoved Foster toward the hallway leading to the door, looking back at him over her shoulder, her brow furrowed.
He watched her for a moment and then, for reasons he didn't understand, he said, "They'll keep coming… They'll send someone else if they have to." Or me, he thought, wiped clean again.
Lewis stopped, pushing Foster out the door leading to the truck. She turned on her heel and walked back to him. Her hands were fisted as she rocked on her heels, keeping distance between them, suspicious and still scared, but stubborn. "Who? Who sent you? Who ordered this… this hit?" She stared at him searchingly and, when he didn't answer right away, snapped, "Come on, don't clam up on me now."
He stayed silent another beat, but staring at her impatient, nervous face, finally said, "HYDRA."
"HYDRA," she repeated, nodding. And then paused. "Wait. HYDRA? Like, the 1940's, World War 2, taken down by Captain America, that HYDRA? It was destroyed…"
He stared at her.
"Okay, not destroyed." She licked her lips, putting to her forehead, and started pacing. "Not destroyed, still working their evil magic behind closed doors, gunning down anybody that stands in the way of what they call progress… But that's- I mean… why Jane?"
"They think she's close to making a discovery. I was ordered to put her down before she could."
Lewis lit up then. "Wait, you mean… she's on the right track?" She bounced a little, looking excited. "Oh man, this is awesome. I always kind of thought she was a crackpot. Love her, but still… crackpot."
He watched her, moving to and fro, grinning widely. His brow furrowed. "She's going to be a dead… crackpot." The word sounded odd, foreign on his tongue. Then again, most words did. He didn't do a whole lot of talking; he had no reason to. "HYDRA won't let her walk away from this. They might remove me for a while, but they'll just send me back in to finish the job later."
Lewis crossed her arms, letting out an incredulous scoff. "What, so you get a good scolding and suddenly you can actually pull the trigger?"
"I have to call my handlers," he said absently, his brow furrowed. "Report in that I failed." He grimaced, his hand squeezing tightly around the gun. His muscles tensed, spasmed, in anticipation of the pain that was coming.
She stared at him, taking another step forward, twisting at the hips as she eyed him speculatively. "So… What happens when the assassin fails anyway? Lines? No dessert?"
His jaw ticked. "Erase and start over."
A beat passed before, "Erase? Like… mentally?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "What's your name?"
He paused. "The Asset."
"That's not a name. Unless you're a pop star, and, obviously, you chose a different career path." Her eyes narrowed, gaze scrutinizing every inch of him. "So they wipe you clean, huh? That's some serious spy movie shit…" She walked even closer, too curious for her own good.
He watched her, tensed, but his hand never rose, his finger wouldn't touch the trigger. It was a strange feeling, letting her move at her own pace, slowly eating up the space between them, until she was just as close as she had been when she'd tasered him. Her head back, she peered up at him, and her hands hesitantly raised, fingers curling around the edge of his facial mask.
"Like a dog," she murmured. "With a choke chain."
He grabbed one of her wrists, bionic fingers wrapped around it, and stared down at her through his goggles. "I could kill you," he said, his voice thick with tension. "Right now. Put a bullet between those pretty blue eyes."
She hummed in acknowledgement. "But you won't." She pulled the metal free and lowered it, staring at his mouth. "There. See? Now you can breathe a little better." Her eyes raised to the goggles, her fingers stretched toward them.
He squeezed her wrist to stop her, but released it long enough to remove the goggles himself, lowering them to his side, staring at her searchingly, his own expression wary. She didn't look scared, but what was he expecting? That she would see his face, see his sins written in his skin, and suddenly lose the backbone that had been getting her through these last two encounters?
"Well, the movies got one thing right; assassins are hot."
His lips pursed. "I'm still holding a gun."
Her mouth turned up at the corners. "Adds to the appeal."
His eyebrow raised slowly and he wondered if he should re-evaluate her and the situation they found themselves in. She was… odd. Unexpected. Even confusing.
"So?" She looked down at the metal muzzle still held in her fingers. "Do you always wear this or only when you're sniping people? Like, do you sleep with it on? It's gotta be uncomfortable. Not much give." She raised it up then and placed it over her own mouth before making a raspy noise. "Luke… I am your father…"
He blinked at her, staring at the mask, and frowned. He didn't like it; didn't like how it looked on her. It was wrong. He reached for it, but she slapped his hand, causing him to stare at her incredulously.
"Hey, you get to wear it all the time, this might be the only time I get to play assassin… Unless I get to go to comic con this year, in which case I'll totally be stealing your look." She winked before turning on her heel and walking a few feet away.
"It hides my identity," he told her.
"And what is your identity?" She looked over her shoulder at him, muzzle still over her mouth. She had full lips; he regretted not being able to see them.
"The Asset," he repeated, standing a little taller, his chin raised. It was less about pride and more about putting up a defense. All he knew, all he could ever remember being was The Asset.
"So you mentioned…" She held the mask up with one hand perched under her chin. "So, if you don't have a name and they wipe you clean every time, does that mean that The Asset used to have a life…? I mean, if you have to hide your identity, that means someone'll be able to identify you… Right?"
His brow furrowed, gaze dropping to the floor.
"Food for thought," she said, moving to the table a few feet behind her and dropping the muzzle down on top of it before she started gathering papers again, piling them into the milk crates. "So, if you're not going to snipe us, how does helping us pack up and move some seriously heavy equipment sound?" she wondered.
He stared at her back, at her fingers, nails painted a bright, almost obnoxious, shade of orange, drumming over the tabletop, and shook his head. "You're very reckless, aren't you?"
She grinned at him over her shoulder. "What gave me away?"
He pressed his lips into a firm line before taking a step toward her, hesitant before raising his chin and crossing the space between them. "Why'd you risk yourself for her?" he wondered. "You offered to fight me for her. You're untrained, you have little upper body strength, you have no fighting experience at all, your diet is terrible, and you never exert any real physical energy…"
"Wow, thanks, just keep piling the compliments on me," she muttered.
He shook his head. "The first time you had your taser, and I'll admit, you were clever. Sloppy, but brave. The second time… If I didn't change my mind, you would have died."
Her gaze dropped for a moment, hands going still on the papers before she turned around to face him properly. "She's my friend. My best friend, actually. I mean we fight and we nag and she's kind of like that older sister who keeps telling me to apply myself, but… I don't know. I love her. And friends stick up for each other, even if it means putting yourself between them and a bullet."
He turned his eyes away thoughtfully.
"Have you ever had that?" she wondered, and then frowned. "Stupid question, I guess. You wouldn't remember, right?"
He looked back at her, hesitated for a moment, but then admitted, "They ask me sometimes, if I remember anything…"
"What happens if you say yes?"
"Pain. A lot of it. And the cold." His gaze grew distant, mouth set in a grimace. "I don't always remember it in my head. But my body… my bones, they remember."
She was quiet for a long moment, just staring at him. "Who do you think were, before all of that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like you said, you hesitated… You didn't want to kill us."
"You. I didn't want to kill you." He frowned. "You trigger me. It's like I'm trying to remember but I know I shouldn't."
"'Shouldn't' doesn't mean you don't want to. Just means they've gotten really good at beating you down… You said your body remembers; so your mind tells you not to ask questions, you learn to shut up, because you don't want to get kicked. That doesn't make it right." She tugged at her fingers and stared up at him. "What if I could find out who you were? Like, before."
"How?"
"I'm pretty good with computers, and I have a few connections I could reach out to if I can't do it on my own. I could probably track you down if I had a picture. I mean, you don't just disappear off the face of the planet. You had to have a life before this, right? Friends, family, people who loved you…"
He winced, looking away quickly.
"There could be a life after this, you know. Ex-assassin goes straight, gets his memory back. Makes a pretty good headline, don't you think?" she encouraged.
He didn't answer right away, his eyes darting over the floor. "What happens… after?"
She shrugged. "Whatever you want to. I mean, I don't have a whole lot of experience with assassins or memory loss, but… The world's your oyster and all that."
He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Sure, there'll probably be a lot of red tape if you go public, but I bet you have a good idea of how to stay under the radar, right? So you could travel, set down roots somewhere, blend in, become Jo Average, if you want… It's kind of up to you what you want to do with your life." She grinned then, laughing under her breath.
Confused by the sudden burst of mirth, he asked, "What?"
"It's just… I never thought I'd be giving life advice to an assassin." She looked up at him, sobering. "Not that your situation is funny, 'cause it's not, but… when I signed up to play intern to an astrophysicist, I never thought it'd be this exciting. Near-death experiences, assassins with tragic back stories, it's a real trip."
He grunted, taking a step back from her. "If I let you take that picture, could you really find out who I was?" He stared at her, searching for any sign that she was lying.
"Hey, you promise not to snipe me or Jane and I'll make you a freaking scrapbook." She walked toward her bag then and pulled out her phone. "Just stay still. And, I know it's going to be hard, but try not to smile."
He tamped down the urge to roll his eyes and waited for her to raise her phone.
She paused though, walking back to him, and reached up, brushing his hair back from his eyes, tucking it behind his ears. His gaze followed her fingers curiously.
"There," she said. "A little less hobo killer and a little more hobo chic."
He arched an eyebrow at her, but she only grinned, leaning back and raising her phone up to snap a picture. "Two just to be sure," she said, taking another. And then she hopped over, her chin on his shoulder and her mouth spread in an overenthusiastic grin, and snapped a third. "That one's just to capture the crazy plot twist that is my current life. Don't worry, I won't Facebook it or anything; that might blow our little 'escape HYDRA's clutches' plan."
He watched her as she stepped back, lighthearted and entirely too relaxed about the situation.
"Okay, so I'll do a facial recognition kind of thing, give it my best college try, track down who you were, and you just… don't call it in to HYDRA or whatever."
He shook his head. "I have to report in."
She shrugged. "Well, just lie then. It's like you said, if you call and tell them that you didn't kill us, they're going to come for you, or send a replacement. Who, I'm guessing, isn't going to hesitate because of my praise-worthy heroics. So call in, tell them, I don't know, that you're getting close or something. Making progress…? Obviously I'm not up on assassin lingo, all right? Just find a way to keep them from interfering while I figure out who you were."
"Why are you helping me?" he wondered, lips turned down. "I tried to kill you, your friend. I still could."
"I like underdogs," she said dismissively. At his unconvinced expression, she added, "Look, I'm not happy about the assassination attempts. Seriously, I think you scared a good decade off my life here on out. But… you hesitated. And you don't know who you are. And HYDRA, who, lemme tell you, does not have a good history, is basically using you to their advantage. Personally, I plan on becoming a lawyer, the kind that puts assholes in jail and gets good people off from bogus charges… So, the way I see it is, HYDRA is the asshole and you're probably a good dude who just got caught up in their nefarious shit… Good word, nefarious."
"What if I'm not?"
Her brow wrinkled. "Not what?"
He grimaced. "A good person."
"Well then maybe this can be a wake-up call, right? Start fresh, be the person you want to be, whoever that is. Hopefully it's not evil. Fingers crossed on not evil." She raised said crossed fingers and grinned up at him. When he continued to look conflicted, she sighed, reaching over to pop his shoulder with a fist. It was probably the least aggressive time anybody had ever taken a swing at him; he wasn't sure what to make of that. "I don't know what's behind the unmarked door. Maybe it's good things, maybe it isn't, but… do you want to keep doing what you're doing?"
He frowned, his brow furrowed. Nobody had ever asked him that before. He was The Asset. He followed orders. There were no other options. But did he want to keep doing this? The thought of going back, of the pain and the cold, made him shake his head. He didn't want it. He didn't want to be their dog, their puppet, dancing on the broken strings of his fucked up mind.
"Okay. So I'll work my mojo, you do some expert lying, and we'll get you out of here. In the meantime… Maybe you could also give a girl an idea of how to keep Jane from getting knocked off…? Pretty please?"
"As long as I'm in rotation, they won't send anybody else. But if I leave or I get brought back in, they'll either send someone new or they'll wipe me and send me back. I can't guarantee I'll hesitate then."
"So maybe packing up and running is still an option then?" she mused.
"Not a long-term one. As long as she's still working on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, HYDRA will have her in their sights."
"Unless she opens it…" Darcy said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "If she opens it, there's no point in taking her out, she's already made it happen, right?"
"Is she close to that?" he wondered.
Darcy frowned. "No. But she thinks our next site might be better…" Sighing, she shrugged. "Unless I pack Jane up and physically kidnap her, she's not going to stop working on this. I guess that settles it then."
He stared at her, waiting for her to explain.
"I'll just have to keep an eye out, try to convince the cops in the next town that we really do have a hit out on us, or maybe put in an anonymous tip to the FBI…" She frowned. "Jane would kill me, and they totally would take all of her work…" She turned then, facing him, her expression dramatically innocent. "Hey, maybe while I'm trying to put together your thus unknown biography, you could teach an intern how to shoot a gun."
His lips pursed as he looked her over. "You want to shoot a gun?"
"I want to be able to defend myself if the next assassin isn't so… friendly."
He let out a faint snort.
"C'mon, I got the chops for it… Probably. I mean, I know which way it points and I'm willing to do what I have to if it comes to keeping Jane alive. What more could you ask for in a student?"
He sighed, licking his lips as he turned his eyes away thoughtfully. After a moment, he looked back at her, mouth pressed into a line. "You know it would be smarter, if she isn't going to put her life ahead of her work, for you to leave her behind."
"I know you're missing some serious human experience, okay, so I'm not going to hold that against you, but lesson number one in being a good person…" She shook her head. "You don't leave your friends behind. Unless they're abusive assholes or something, then kick them to the curb. But the good ones, the ones that make you better… You step in front of that bullet if you have to."
He took a moment to let her words sink in and then, slowly, as if to echo something just out of reach, he said, "'Til the end of the line."
"Yeah," she said, grinning. "Exactly."
He swallowed tightly, a strange heaviness in his chest. Nodding jerkily, he took a step back.
"I should probably go stop Jane before she drags the cops to our door, somehow convince her you're not going to make a third attempt on our lives… Uh, you're not, right?"
He shook his head absently.
"Good. Okay, well, I'll look into it tonight, see what I can find. Think you could drop in tomorrow?"
He nodded, lifting his chin, making his face carefully blank.
"All right." Her eyes searched his face for a moment. "You good? You look a little… nauseous."
"Yeah," he rasped. He backed up, giving his head a shake. "Tomorrow." He turned to leave, never pausing, hurrying out the way he came, making his way through the building until he was outside, in the alleyway, bent over, sucking in air, his eyes closed tightly. What was he doing? He should have killed her, both of them. This wasn't him. It wasn't who he was. He was The Asset. How many times had he thought that like it was some kind of balm for all the missing pieces in his head? The only identity he had, held tight between metal fingers.
But as he stood there, something stirred deep in his chest. Some faint spark of hope. That maybe there was something else he could do. Someone else he could be. That he wouldn't have to go back to the chair, to the cold. That he would never have to put the mask on again. He didn't know who he was, but maybe he was someone. Maybe there was someone out there looking for him. Someone who missed him. He was going to find out.
As he took a step forward, a crunching noise caught his attention; he dropped his gaze to see the dry cat food dish tipped over. Kneeling down, he scooped up what he could with his hand; most of it was clean, piled on top of each other. He put it back in the dish and stood, wiping his hand on his pants before he walked away.
He would come back tomorrow, and find out who he really was.
[Present - 2015 - Portugal]
Steve stared at him a long searching moment, his fingers gripped tight around the arm of the couch. "Darcy, always putting herself between you and Foster… it reminded you of me."
Bucky jerked his head in a nod. "It wasn't until later, after she looked into me, found out who I was, that it made sense… There was footage of us in the war; stock photos, history books. She said she hit the jackpot; I was just famous enough for her to find without too much work."
"Bet she wasn't expecting to find an MIA soldier from the 40's," Sam mused, letting out a long whistle.
"It was a surprise for both of us…" His smile was brittle. "She was hoping she'd find a family, people who missed me, but after all that time passed… There was no one. Some of the Commandos were still alive, but… They were older, retired, what were they gonna do with me?"
Steve let out a heavy breath. "I thought the same thing, when I… woke up. SHIELD, they told me I had a purpose, that I could help, and it wasn't long later that I was suiting up, joining The Avengers. But it still felt different. I thought I was ending a war, and I guess I did, but… I walked into another one, into a future where I had nobody I wanted there with me."
Bucky stared at him. "I was lucky, I guess… Not before, not with HYDRA. But with Darcy… She helped. She made it easier to accept." He shook his head. "I didn't remember much, she tried to fill in a lot of the gaps. I don't know what I would've done, figuring that out, nobody around to help me." He swallowed tightly then and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "She got me through the worst part of my life, and I'm the reason hers turned out the way it did."
Sam shook his head. "She's alive, Foster too, so you must've done something to keep them that way… But you still ended up back with HYDRA, so… What happened? How'd they get both of you?"
Bucky let out a long, heavy breath, and said, "I went rogue."
[Next: Chapter Four.]
author's note: thank you to everybody's who's been reviewing. I'm excited you're enjoying this so far. I'm having a lot of fun writing Darcy and Jane's friendship, which you'll see more of in the next chapter. and writing a conflicted bucky is an interesting experience, so I hope you're enjoying his interactions.
thank you all so much for reading! please review; they're my lifeblood.
- Lee | Fina