Bucky

I don't want to be here. Meg-! "You're staying!" Goddammit. RP and Alter blog. RP is only done by the host.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

name. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes aliases: The Winter Soldier, White Wolf, Thanatos (for the Daimones) pronouns. he/him age. God knows at this point. "He's 112!" Of course you'd know that... orient. Bisexual and polyamorous relationship status. Taken .by Megan Danwill, Sam Wilson, Mariana Renee

Tags #what is it? [asks] #yes sometimes i do talk [original posts] #alpine's demanding treats [rp end] #📼 [alter tag, just in case]

DNI: NSFW content, Zionists, TERFS, Homophobia, Racism, Sexism, Xenophobes, Proshippers, Pedophiles and Ableists

Boundaries

Buck is just generally uncomfortable with people who aren't his partners flirting with him, so, even in RP, it's not gonna happen. Platonic and familial dynamics are 100% welcome though!

[marvelsgirl616]

[lunaconrad-deactivated20131216]

TRUTH SERUM - MY MUSE HAS TO ANSWER ANY AND ALL QUESTION REGARDLESS OF WHAT IT IS.

[justanotherrpmeme]

Please preface questions with “Truth”

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Even if she didn't fully remember who she was, or what exactly Bucky meant to her, she still felt it. The way he looked at her, the way he said her name--calling her Bec instead of Becca like they'd never been apart-- everything made her feel something. She couldn't even tell the emotions apart, it was all so much, but she felt it deep in her chest.

"Bucky..."

Her own voice broke at that. Seeing the way that one sentence broke him hurt more than anything. This wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. Right? He hadn't had a choice. Neither of them did.

"It isn't your fault."

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should've just left the cafe, and avoided this entirely. He could've gone on thinking she'd passed peacefully of old age or something (how old was she supposed to be now? She didn't know) and she could've...figured something else out. Become someone new.

There was too much happening now. After who knows how many years of not feeling anything, suddenly feeling everything was just overwhelming. That urge to run and hide was only getting worse, those scared animal mannerisms just becoming more pronounced.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Her voice, saying his name like that, cut through the storm of his guilt. It isn't your fault. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the weight of the century pressed down on him, a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

He rubbed his face with his right hand. This wasn't the time of his self-pity.

The overwhelming need to apologize, to grieve, was suddenly eclipsed by something sharper, more primal: protection. She was here. She was alive. His mission, the only one that had ever truly mattered, snapped back into focus.

So, he assessed. She was clearly away from Hydra, otherwise she wouldn't be here, which meant she wasn't under their control. But he didn't know if she still had her trigger words into effect.

He didn't know anything about his sister anymore.

"Are you... safe? Are they... looking for you?" he questioned, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have... protocols?"

His eyes flickered over her. "Where are you staying? Is it secure?" The questions came rapid-fire, born of a desperate need to establish a perimeter, to create a zone of safety around this impossible, fragile miracle sitting across from him.

[zimniysoldatka]

She recognized the shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly focused in on her like he was starting a new mission. It's was exactly what she did too, when things were too much. Having something to focus on, to push everything else aside, helped make it easier during the more overwhelming days.

Seeing things snap into place like that helped her do the same, and she was able to shove that urge to disappear aside again, at least for a little longer. She couldn't run. They had to debrief. Her answers came as quickly as his questions as she locked in on this new mission.

"I'm as safe as I can be," she said carefully. "I'm sure they're looking, but I got rid of their trackers. They haven't caught up yet. I...still have protocols."

That was the biggest reason for her constant wariness. If she let her guard down for even a second, and they found her, she'd be back under their control in seconds. She doubted she'd be given another chance to escape.

"I've been moving around a lot. Just in case. I'm at a hotel right now."

It definitely wasn't the most secure option, but she could take care of herself. She'd stayed ahead of Hydra this far, right?

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Trackers removed. Still has protocols. Hotel. His mind, honed by decades of warfare and evasion, processed it instantly, cross-referencing it with his own brutal experience.

A hotel was a nightmare. Too many variables. Too many points of entry. Too many people. It was a place to sleep, not a fortress.

"No," he said, the word sharp and final. It wasn't a rejection of her; it was a rejection of her entire situation. "That's not safe. Moving around isn't going to keep you safe."

He sighed. "Bec, I got- I got a place, and people that can...help keep you safe. They'd never find you. We can figure out the protocols. We can… we can fix that."

He needed to keep her safe, yeah, but it was more than that. He didn't want her out of his sight. Not for a while, maybe not ever.

Bucky was desperate.

[zimniysoldatka]

"It was safer than staying put..." she mumbled almost sulkily as he commented on her situation. It was a cruel reminder of the life they'd lost to Hydra, Becca pouting after being scolded by her big brother. Or, maybe it was a sign she was still in there somewhere. His baby sister who'd never even thought of being a soldier.

When he suggested that she should go with him, she felt that urge to run clawing its way back up. The remaining HYDRA brainwashing was trying to convince her this was a bad idea. She shouldn't want this. She wasn't supposed to be Becca anymore.

"Bucky..." she said again, her voice uncertain. "Are you sure that's safe?"

She could end up leading HYDRA back to them--back to him. Or she could hurt them herself. It wouldn't take much at all, just someone who knew her protocols.

She didn't want to hurt people anymore.

Still, she could see by the desperation in his eyes that she might not be getting much of a choice in the matter.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The flicker of her old self—that defensive, almost-sulky mumble—hit him right in the heart. It was so her, a ghost of the girl who'd argued with him about curfews and which radio programs to listen to. It made the fear in her eyes all the more wrong.

"I'm not safe. You're not safe. The world isn't safe." He held her gaze, his own blue eyes mirroring hers. "But we're a hell of a lot safer together than we are apart."

He finally acknowledged the unspoken terror between them. "I know the protocols. I know what they can do. And I have people, good people, the best, who know how to break them. They did it for me." He gestured vaguely at his own head. "They can do it for you. But we can't do it if you're alone in a hotel room waiting for a knock on the door."

He finally reached out, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. He didn't touch her, just laid his hand, palm up, on the table between them. An invitation. A promise.

"I lost you once," he said, the raw pain back in his voice, but controlled now, channeled into sheer, stubborn will. "I am not losing you again to those bastards. I don't care if you're the most dangerous person in this city. You're my sister. Come with me, Rebecca."

[zimniysoldatka]

Safer together. Surely that was still true. Becca and Bucky, together against the world. Against HYDRA. And as much as she was loathe to admit it (she really was his little sister), he wasn't wrong. She couldn't run forever, and nothing could get done while she was alone in a hotel room.

She stared at his hand for a moment, like it was the most important thing she'd ever seen. In a way, it was. It was a promise. It was hope. She took a shaky breath, and reached for his hand.

"Alright. We're...safer together."

Despite everything in her head screaming at her to run, this felt right. They belonged together.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The moment her fingers closed around his, a century of loneliness and grief cracked open inside him. It wasn't a fix, but it was a start. A foundation to build something new on the ruins.

"Okay," he breathed, the word heavy with relief. He gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"We'll can drop by that hotel, get your stuff." He stretched slightly, feeling stiff. From what, he wasn't sure. "Whatever you need."

[zimniysoldatka]

She pulled her hand away too quickly when he let go, almost overwhelmed by the sudden wave of emotion that one little gesture brought. They'd been so close once. He'd been her entire world. Even if she didn't remember yet, she could feel it. Already, part of her just wanted to follow him like a lost puppy, just like she had when she was little. It was a lot to process.

"I don't have much," she admitted. It's not like she could really get a job, all things considered. She was technically committing felonies just to get the shitty rooms she'd been bouncing between. Besides, she hadn't really been out long enough to accumulate much. "It'll be quick."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

"Good," he said, the single word carrying a weight of grim approval. The less she had, the less tied she was to that transient, vulnerable existence. The faster they could erase that chapter. "Quick is good."

He got up, already planning his moves. He'd have to call one of the others and tell them what's going on. Probably Megan. She had a habit of accepting his 'adventures' no questions asked...

He shook his head. Not the time for that now. "Is it far? Or are we gettin' a cab?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She nodded. Quick was good. She never wanted to feel like she couldn't pack up and leave in seconds if necessary. As least it was necessary for what was hopefully a good reason now.

No, not hopefully. This was a good reason. It had to be. He was her brother.

She could tell he was planning. She recognized that expression--she was sure it looked similar on her own face. He was probably trying to figure out how to tell his friends they had to help his baby sister. Had he even told them about her? How had he recovered his own memories without...well, she wasn't so conceited as to think it could've only been her, but...who else could still be here?

But those questions could wait. For now, they had a mission to complete.

"I walked," she said with a shrug. She was pretty wary of cabs--If the driver ended up being a HYDRA agent, it'd be over for her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

"Good. Easier to control your surroundings that way."

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the long strands slightly. It had been a while since he had felt this lost but determined to help. To aide. Strangely, he liked the feeling. He had a mission, and it involved saving someone- No, not just someone. His sister.

Holy shit.

Then he sighed for the felt like the 100th time that day. "Lead the way, Bec."

[zimniysoldatka]

She may not have been a soldier before HYDRA got her, but their training had done its job. She had the same survival instincts as he did. The same need to control her surroundings as much as possible.

At least they had that in common. They were still connected after everything. It would be almost comforting if it wasn't so...sad.

But they couldn't dwell on that now. Instead, she just nodded, leading him through the busy streets back to the hotel she'd been staying at. It definitely wasn't the nicest or safest place, but it was out of the way and quiet.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky followed her, a half-step behind and to her left, his presence a constant, watchful shadow. His eyes never stopped moving, cataloging every face in the crowd, every reflective surface, every potential choke point or ambush site. The hotel she led him to was exactly the kind of place he'd expected. A crumbling, anonymous box that offered zero security and maximum vulnerability. His jaw tightened. It reminded him of his own days on the run; he had stayed in a shithole just like it.

When she led him to her room, he stood in the frame of the door, like a guard dog, while he decided to text instead of called (he knew how to now! Obviously). He got a ping back almost immediately, and just as he predicted, it wasn't a question, instead it was a simple confirmation. 'Roger that'

He put his phone back in his pocket and looked back at his sister.

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Even if she didn't fully remember who she was, or what exactly Bucky meant to her, she still felt it. The way he looked at her, the way he said her name--calling her Bec instead of Becca like they'd never been apart-- everything made her feel something. She couldn't even tell the emotions apart, it was all so much, but she felt it deep in her chest.

"Bucky..."

Her own voice broke at that. Seeing the way that one sentence broke him hurt more than anything. This wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. Right? He hadn't had a choice. Neither of them did.

"It isn't your fault."

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should've just left the cafe, and avoided this entirely. He could've gone on thinking she'd passed peacefully of old age or something (how old was she supposed to be now? She didn't know) and she could've...figured something else out. Become someone new.

There was too much happening now. After who knows how many years of not feeling anything, suddenly feeling everything was just overwhelming. That urge to run and hide was only getting worse, those scared animal mannerisms just becoming more pronounced.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Her voice, saying his name like that, cut through the storm of his guilt. It isn't your fault. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the weight of the century pressed down on him, a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

He rubbed his face with his right hand. This wasn't the time of his self-pity.

The overwhelming need to apologize, to grieve, was suddenly eclipsed by something sharper, more primal: protection. She was here. She was alive. His mission, the only one that had ever truly mattered, snapped back into focus.

So, he assessed. She was clearly away from Hydra, otherwise she wouldn't be here, which meant she wasn't under their control. But he didn't know if she still had her trigger words into effect.

He didn't know anything about his sister anymore.

"Are you... safe? Are they... looking for you?" he questioned, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have... protocols?"

His eyes flickered over her. "Where are you staying? Is it secure?" The questions came rapid-fire, born of a desperate need to establish a perimeter, to create a zone of safety around this impossible, fragile miracle sitting across from him.

[zimniysoldatka]

She recognized the shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly focused in on her like he was starting a new mission. It's was exactly what she did too, when things were too much. Having something to focus on, to push everything else aside, helped make it easier during the more overwhelming days.

Seeing things snap into place like that helped her do the same, and she was able to shove that urge to disappear aside again, at least for a little longer. She couldn't run. They had to debrief. Her answers came as quickly as his questions as she locked in on this new mission.

"I'm as safe as I can be," she said carefully. "I'm sure they're looking, but I got rid of their trackers. They haven't caught up yet. I...still have protocols."

That was the biggest reason for her constant wariness. If she let her guard down for even a second, and they found her, she'd be back under their control in seconds. She doubted she'd be given another chance to escape.

"I've been moving around a lot. Just in case. I'm at a hotel right now."

It definitely wasn't the most secure option, but she could take care of herself. She'd stayed ahead of Hydra this far, right?

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Trackers removed. Still has protocols. Hotel. His mind, honed by decades of warfare and evasion, processed it instantly, cross-referencing it with his own brutal experience.

A hotel was a nightmare. Too many variables. Too many points of entry. Too many people. It was a place to sleep, not a fortress.

"No," he said, the word sharp and final. It wasn't a rejection of her; it was a rejection of her entire situation. "That's not safe. Moving around isn't going to keep you safe."

He sighed. "Bec, I got- I got a place, and people that can...help keep you safe. They'd never find you. We can figure out the protocols. We can… we can fix that."

He needed to keep her safe, yeah, but it was more than that. He didn't want her out of his sight. Not for a while, maybe not ever.

Bucky was desperate.

[zimniysoldatka]

"It was safer than staying put..." she mumbled almost sulkily as he commented on her situation. It was a cruel reminder of the life they'd lost to Hydra, Becca pouting after being scolded by her big brother. Or, maybe it was a sign she was still in there somewhere. His baby sister who'd never even thought of being a soldier.

When he suggested that she should go with him, she felt that urge to run clawing its way back up. The remaining HYDRA brainwashing was trying to convince her this was a bad idea. She shouldn't want this. She wasn't supposed to be Becca anymore.

"Bucky..." she said again, her voice uncertain. "Are you sure that's safe?"

She could end up leading HYDRA back to them--back to him. Or she could hurt them herself. It wouldn't take much at all, just someone who knew her protocols.

She didn't want to hurt people anymore.

Still, she could see by the desperation in his eyes that she might not be getting much of a choice in the matter.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The flicker of her old self—that defensive, almost-sulky mumble—hit him right in the heart. It was so her, a ghost of the girl who'd argued with him about curfews and which radio programs to listen to. It made the fear in her eyes all the more wrong.

"I'm not safe. You're not safe. The world isn't safe." He held her gaze, his own blue eyes mirroring hers. "But we're a hell of a lot safer together than we are apart."

He finally acknowledged the unspoken terror between them. "I know the protocols. I know what they can do. And I have people, good people, the best, who know how to break them. They did it for me." He gestured vaguely at his own head. "They can do it for you. But we can't do it if you're alone in a hotel room waiting for a knock on the door."

He finally reached out, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. He didn't touch her, just laid his hand, palm up, on the table between them. An invitation. A promise.

"I lost you once," he said, the raw pain back in his voice, but controlled now, channeled into sheer, stubborn will. "I am not losing you again to those bastards. I don't care if you're the most dangerous person in this city. You're my sister. Come with me, Rebecca."

[zimniysoldatka]

Safer together. Surely that was still true. Becca and Bucky, together against the world. Against HYDRA. And as much as she was loathe to admit it (she really was his little sister), he wasn't wrong. She couldn't run forever, and nothing could get done while she was alone in a hotel room.

She stared at his hand for a moment, like it was the most important thing she'd ever seen. In a way, it was. It was a promise. It was hope. She took a shaky breath, and reached for his hand.

"Alright. We're...safer together."

Despite everything in her head screaming at her to run, this felt right. They belonged together.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The moment her fingers closed around his, a century of loneliness and grief cracked open inside him. It wasn't a fix, but it was a start. A foundation to build something new on the ruins.

"Okay," he breathed, the word heavy with relief. He gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"We'll can drop by that hotel, get your stuff." He stretched slightly, feeling stiff. From what, he wasn't sure. "Whatever you need."

[zimniysoldatka]

She pulled her hand away too quickly when he let go, almost overwhelmed by the sudden wave of emotion that one little gesture brought. They'd been so close once. He'd been her entire world. Even if she didn't remember yet, she could feel it. Already, part of her just wanted to follow him like a lost puppy, just like she had when she was little. It was a lot to process.

"I don't have much," she admitted. It's not like she could really get a job, all things considered. She was technically committing felonies just to get the shitty rooms she'd been bouncing between. Besides, she hadn't really been out long enough to accumulate much. "It'll be quick."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

"Good," he said, the single word carrying a weight of grim approval. The less she had, the less tied she was to that transient, vulnerable existence. The faster they could erase that chapter. "Quick is good."

He got up, already planning his moves. He'd have to call one of the others and tell them what's going on. Probably Megan. She had a habit of accepting his 'adventures' no questions asked...

He shook his head. Not the time for that now. "Is it far? Or are we gettin' a cab?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She nodded. Quick was good. She never wanted to feel like she couldn't pack up and leave in seconds if necessary. As least it was necessary for what was hopefully a good reason now.

No, not hopefully. This was a good reason. It had to be. He was her brother.

She could tell he was planning. She recognized that expression--she was sure it looked similar on her own face. He was probably trying to figure out how to tell his friends they had to help his baby sister. Had he even told them about her? How had he recovered his own memories without...well, she wasn't so conceited as to think it could've only been her, but...who else could still be here?

But those questions could wait. For now, they had a mission to complete.

"I walked," she said with a shrug. She was pretty wary of cabs--If the driver ended up being a HYDRA agent, it'd be over for her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

"Good. Easier to control your surroundings that way."

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the long strands slightly. It had been a while since he had felt this lost but determined to help. To aide. Strangely, he liked the feeling. He had a mission, and it involved saving someone- No, not just someone. His sister.

Holy shit.

Then he sighed for the felt like the 100th time that day. "Lead the way, Bec."

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Even if she didn't fully remember who she was, or what exactly Bucky meant to her, she still felt it. The way he looked at her, the way he said her name--calling her Bec instead of Becca like they'd never been apart-- everything made her feel something. She couldn't even tell the emotions apart, it was all so much, but she felt it deep in her chest.

"Bucky..."

Her own voice broke at that. Seeing the way that one sentence broke him hurt more than anything. This wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. Right? He hadn't had a choice. Neither of them did.

"It isn't your fault."

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should've just left the cafe, and avoided this entirely. He could've gone on thinking she'd passed peacefully of old age or something (how old was she supposed to be now? She didn't know) and she could've...figured something else out. Become someone new.

There was too much happening now. After who knows how many years of not feeling anything, suddenly feeling everything was just overwhelming. That urge to run and hide was only getting worse, those scared animal mannerisms just becoming more pronounced.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Her voice, saying his name like that, cut through the storm of his guilt. It isn't your fault. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the weight of the century pressed down on him, a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

He rubbed his face with his right hand. This wasn't the time of his self-pity.

The overwhelming need to apologize, to grieve, was suddenly eclipsed by something sharper, more primal: protection. She was here. She was alive. His mission, the only one that had ever truly mattered, snapped back into focus.

So, he assessed. She was clearly away from Hydra, otherwise she wouldn't be here, which meant she wasn't under their control. But he didn't know if she still had her trigger words into effect.

He didn't know anything about his sister anymore.

"Are you... safe? Are they... looking for you?" he questioned, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have... protocols?"

His eyes flickered over her. "Where are you staying? Is it secure?" The questions came rapid-fire, born of a desperate need to establish a perimeter, to create a zone of safety around this impossible, fragile miracle sitting across from him.

[zimniysoldatka]

She recognized the shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly focused in on her like he was starting a new mission. It's was exactly what she did too, when things were too much. Having something to focus on, to push everything else aside, helped make it easier during the more overwhelming days.

Seeing things snap into place like that helped her do the same, and she was able to shove that urge to disappear aside again, at least for a little longer. She couldn't run. They had to debrief. Her answers came as quickly as his questions as she locked in on this new mission.

"I'm as safe as I can be," she said carefully. "I'm sure they're looking, but I got rid of their trackers. They haven't caught up yet. I...still have protocols."

That was the biggest reason for her constant wariness. If she let her guard down for even a second, and they found her, she'd be back under their control in seconds. She doubted she'd be given another chance to escape.

"I've been moving around a lot. Just in case. I'm at a hotel right now."

It definitely wasn't the most secure option, but she could take care of herself. She'd stayed ahead of Hydra this far, right?

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Trackers removed. Still has protocols. Hotel. His mind, honed by decades of warfare and evasion, processed it instantly, cross-referencing it with his own brutal experience.

A hotel was a nightmare. Too many variables. Too many points of entry. Too many people. It was a place to sleep, not a fortress.

"No," he said, the word sharp and final. It wasn't a rejection of her; it was a rejection of her entire situation. "That's not safe. Moving around isn't going to keep you safe."

He sighed. "Bec, I got- I got a place, and people that can...help keep you safe. They'd never find you. We can figure out the protocols. We can… we can fix that."

He needed to keep her safe, yeah, but it was more than that. He didn't want her out of his sight. Not for a while, maybe not ever.

Bucky was desperate.

[zimniysoldatka]

"It was safer than staying put..." she mumbled almost sulkily as he commented on her situation. It was a cruel reminder of the life they'd lost to Hydra, Becca pouting after being scolded by her big brother. Or, maybe it was a sign she was still in there somewhere. His baby sister who'd never even thought of being a soldier.

When he suggested that she should go with him, she felt that urge to run clawing its way back up. The remaining HYDRA brainwashing was trying to convince her this was a bad idea. She shouldn't want this. She wasn't supposed to be Becca anymore.

"Bucky..." she said again, her voice uncertain. "Are you sure that's safe?"

She could end up leading HYDRA back to them--back to him. Or she could hurt them herself. It wouldn't take much at all, just someone who knew her protocols.

She didn't want to hurt people anymore.

Still, she could see by the desperation in his eyes that she might not be getting much of a choice in the matter.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The flicker of her old self—that defensive, almost-sulky mumble—hit him right in the heart. It was so her, a ghost of the girl who'd argued with him about curfews and which radio programs to listen to. It made the fear in her eyes all the more wrong.

"I'm not safe. You're not safe. The world isn't safe." He held her gaze, his own blue eyes mirroring hers. "But we're a hell of a lot safer together than we are apart."

He finally acknowledged the unspoken terror between them. "I know the protocols. I know what they can do. And I have people, good people, the best, who know how to break them. They did it for me." He gestured vaguely at his own head. "They can do it for you. But we can't do it if you're alone in a hotel room waiting for a knock on the door."

He finally reached out, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. He didn't touch her, just laid his hand, palm up, on the table between them. An invitation. A promise.

"I lost you once," he said, the raw pain back in his voice, but controlled now, channeled into sheer, stubborn will. "I am not losing you again to those bastards. I don't care if you're the most dangerous person in this city. You're my sister. Come with me, Rebecca."

[zimniysoldatka]

Safer together. Surely that was still true. Becca and Bucky, together against the world. Against HYDRA. And as much as she was loathe to admit it (she really was his little sister), he wasn't wrong. She couldn't run forever, and nothing could get done while she was alone in a hotel room.

She stared at his hand for a moment, like it was the most important thing she'd ever seen. In a way, it was. It was a promise. It was hope. She took a shaky breath, and reached for his hand.

"Alright. We're...safer together."

Despite everything in her head screaming at her to run, this felt right. They belonged together.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The moment her fingers closed around his, a century of loneliness and grief cracked open inside him. It wasn't a fix, but it was a start. A foundation to build something new on the ruins.

"Okay," he breathed, the word heavy with relief. He gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"We'll can drop by that hotel, get your stuff." He stretched slightly, feeling stiff. From what, he wasn't sure. "Whatever you need."

[zimniysoldatka]

She pulled her hand away too quickly when he let go, almost overwhelmed by the sudden wave of emotion that one little gesture brought. They'd been so close once. He'd been her entire world. Even if she didn't remember yet, she could feel it. Already, part of her just wanted to follow him like a lost puppy, just like she had when she was little. It was a lot to process.

"I don't have much," she admitted. It's not like she could really get a job, all things considered. She was technically committing felonies just to get the shitty rooms she'd been bouncing between. Besides, she hadn't really been out long enough to accumulate much. "It'll be quick."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

"Good," he said, the single word carrying a weight of grim approval. The less she had, the less tied she was to that transient, vulnerable existence. The faster they could erase that chapter. "Quick is good."

He got up, already planning his moves. He'd have to call one of the others and tell them what's going on. Probably Megan. She had a habit of accepting his 'adventures' no questions asked...

He shook his head. Not the time for that now. "Is it far? Or are we gettin' a cab?"

[seanom1lk]

i find it absolutely hilarious that bucky ripped out the steering to wheel to sam's car, threw him out of a helo, and looked at him scornfully the entirety of civil war

and is just casually in love with him now

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Even if she didn't fully remember who she was, or what exactly Bucky meant to her, she still felt it. The way he looked at her, the way he said her name--calling her Bec instead of Becca like they'd never been apart-- everything made her feel something. She couldn't even tell the emotions apart, it was all so much, but she felt it deep in her chest.

"Bucky..."

Her own voice broke at that. Seeing the way that one sentence broke him hurt more than anything. This wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. Right? He hadn't had a choice. Neither of them did.

"It isn't your fault."

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should've just left the cafe, and avoided this entirely. He could've gone on thinking she'd passed peacefully of old age or something (how old was she supposed to be now? She didn't know) and she could've...figured something else out. Become someone new.

There was too much happening now. After who knows how many years of not feeling anything, suddenly feeling everything was just overwhelming. That urge to run and hide was only getting worse, those scared animal mannerisms just becoming more pronounced.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Her voice, saying his name like that, cut through the storm of his guilt. It isn't your fault. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the weight of the century pressed down on him, a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

He rubbed his face with his right hand. This wasn't the time of his self-pity.

The overwhelming need to apologize, to grieve, was suddenly eclipsed by something sharper, more primal: protection. She was here. She was alive. His mission, the only one that had ever truly mattered, snapped back into focus.

So, he assessed. She was clearly away from Hydra, otherwise she wouldn't be here, which meant she wasn't under their control. But he didn't know if she still had her trigger words into effect.

He didn't know anything about his sister anymore.

"Are you... safe? Are they... looking for you?" he questioned, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have... protocols?"

His eyes flickered over her. "Where are you staying? Is it secure?" The questions came rapid-fire, born of a desperate need to establish a perimeter, to create a zone of safety around this impossible, fragile miracle sitting across from him.

[zimniysoldatka]

She recognized the shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly focused in on her like he was starting a new mission. It's was exactly what she did too, when things were too much. Having something to focus on, to push everything else aside, helped make it easier during the more overwhelming days.

Seeing things snap into place like that helped her do the same, and she was able to shove that urge to disappear aside again, at least for a little longer. She couldn't run. They had to debrief. Her answers came as quickly as his questions as she locked in on this new mission.

"I'm as safe as I can be," she said carefully. "I'm sure they're looking, but I got rid of their trackers. They haven't caught up yet. I...still have protocols."

That was the biggest reason for her constant wariness. If she let her guard down for even a second, and they found her, she'd be back under their control in seconds. She doubted she'd be given another chance to escape.

"I've been moving around a lot. Just in case. I'm at a hotel right now."

It definitely wasn't the most secure option, but she could take care of herself. She'd stayed ahead of Hydra this far, right?

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Trackers removed. Still has protocols. Hotel. His mind, honed by decades of warfare and evasion, processed it instantly, cross-referencing it with his own brutal experience.

A hotel was a nightmare. Too many variables. Too many points of entry. Too many people. It was a place to sleep, not a fortress.

"No," he said, the word sharp and final. It wasn't a rejection of her; it was a rejection of her entire situation. "That's not safe. Moving around isn't going to keep you safe."

He sighed. "Bec, I got- I got a place, and people that can...help keep you safe. They'd never find you. We can figure out the protocols. We can… we can fix that."

He needed to keep her safe, yeah, but it was more than that. He didn't want her out of his sight. Not for a while, maybe not ever.

Bucky was desperate.

[zimniysoldatka]

"It was safer than staying put..." she mumbled almost sulkily as he commented on her situation. It was a cruel reminder of the life they'd lost to Hydra, Becca pouting after being scolded by her big brother. Or, maybe it was a sign she was still in there somewhere. His baby sister who'd never even thought of being a soldier.

When he suggested that she should go with him, she felt that urge to run clawing its way back up. The remaining HYDRA brainwashing was trying to convince her this was a bad idea. She shouldn't want this. She wasn't supposed to be Becca anymore.

"Bucky..." she said again, her voice uncertain. "Are you sure that's safe?"

She could end up leading HYDRA back to them--back to him. Or she could hurt them herself. It wouldn't take much at all, just someone who knew her protocols.

She didn't want to hurt people anymore.

Still, she could see by the desperation in his eyes that she might not be getting much of a choice in the matter.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The flicker of her old self—that defensive, almost-sulky mumble—hit him right in the heart. It was so her, a ghost of the girl who'd argued with him about curfews and which radio programs to listen to. It made the fear in her eyes all the more wrong.

"I'm not safe. You're not safe. The world isn't safe." He held her gaze, his own blue eyes mirroring hers. "But we're a hell of a lot safer together than we are apart."

He finally acknowledged the unspoken terror between them. "I know the protocols. I know what they can do. And I have people, good people, the best, who know how to break them. They did it for me." He gestured vaguely at his own head. "They can do it for you. But we can't do it if you're alone in a hotel room waiting for a knock on the door."

He finally reached out, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. He didn't touch her, just laid his hand, palm up, on the table between them. An invitation. A promise.

"I lost you once," he said, the raw pain back in his voice, but controlled now, channeled into sheer, stubborn will. "I am not losing you again to those bastards. I don't care if you're the most dangerous person in this city. You're my sister. Come with me, Rebecca."

[zimniysoldatka]

Safer together. Surely that was still true. Becca and Bucky, together against the world. Against HYDRA. And as much as she was loathe to admit it (she really was his little sister), he wasn't wrong. She couldn't run forever, and nothing could get done while she was alone in a hotel room.

She stared at his hand for a moment, like it was the most important thing she'd ever seen. In a way, it was. It was a promise. It was hope. She took a shaky breath, and reached for his hand.

"Alright. We're...safer together."

Despite everything in her head screaming at her to run, this felt right. They belonged together.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The moment her fingers closed around his, a century of loneliness and grief cracked open inside him. It wasn't a fix, but it was a start. A foundation to build something new on the ruins.

"Okay," he breathed, the word heavy with relief. He gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"We'll can drop by that hotel, get your stuff." He stretched slightly, feeling stiff. From what, he wasn't sure. "Whatever you need."

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Even if she didn't fully remember who she was, or what exactly Bucky meant to her, she still felt it. The way he looked at her, the way he said her name--calling her Bec instead of Becca like they'd never been apart-- everything made her feel something. She couldn't even tell the emotions apart, it was all so much, but she felt it deep in her chest.

"Bucky..."

Her own voice broke at that. Seeing the way that one sentence broke him hurt more than anything. This wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. Right? He hadn't had a choice. Neither of them did.

"It isn't your fault."

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should've just left the cafe, and avoided this entirely. He could've gone on thinking she'd passed peacefully of old age or something (how old was she supposed to be now? She didn't know) and she could've...figured something else out. Become someone new.

There was too much happening now. After who knows how many years of not feeling anything, suddenly feeling everything was just overwhelming. That urge to run and hide was only getting worse, those scared animal mannerisms just becoming more pronounced.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Her voice, saying his name like that, cut through the storm of his guilt. It isn't your fault. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the weight of the century pressed down on him, a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

He rubbed his face with his right hand. This wasn't the time of his self-pity.

The overwhelming need to apologize, to grieve, was suddenly eclipsed by something sharper, more primal: protection. She was here. She was alive. His mission, the only one that had ever truly mattered, snapped back into focus.

So, he assessed. She was clearly away from Hydra, otherwise she wouldn't be here, which meant she wasn't under their control. But he didn't know if she still had her trigger words into effect.

He didn't know anything about his sister anymore.

"Are you... safe? Are they... looking for you?" he questioned, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have... protocols?"

His eyes flickered over her. "Where are you staying? Is it secure?" The questions came rapid-fire, born of a desperate need to establish a perimeter, to create a zone of safety around this impossible, fragile miracle sitting across from him.

[zimniysoldatka]

She recognized the shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly focused in on her like he was starting a new mission. It's was exactly what she did too, when things were too much. Having something to focus on, to push everything else aside, helped make it easier during the more overwhelming days.

Seeing things snap into place like that helped her do the same, and she was able to shove that urge to disappear aside again, at least for a little longer. She couldn't run. They had to debrief. Her answers came as quickly as his questions as she locked in on this new mission.

"I'm as safe as I can be," she said carefully. "I'm sure they're looking, but I got rid of their trackers. They haven't caught up yet. I...still have protocols."

That was the biggest reason for her constant wariness. If she let her guard down for even a second, and they found her, she'd be back under their control in seconds. She doubted she'd be given another chance to escape.

"I've been moving around a lot. Just in case. I'm at a hotel right now."

It definitely wasn't the most secure option, but she could take care of herself. She'd stayed ahead of Hydra this far, right?

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Trackers removed. Still has protocols. Hotel. His mind, honed by decades of warfare and evasion, processed it instantly, cross-referencing it with his own brutal experience.

A hotel was a nightmare. Too many variables. Too many points of entry. Too many people. It was a place to sleep, not a fortress.

"No," he said, the word sharp and final. It wasn't a rejection of her; it was a rejection of her entire situation. "That's not safe. Moving around isn't going to keep you safe."

He sighed. "Bec, I got- I got a place, and people that can...help keep you safe. They'd never find you. We can figure out the protocols. We can… we can fix that."

He needed to keep her safe, yeah, but it was more than that. He didn't want her out of his sight. Not for a while, maybe not ever.

Bucky was desperate.

[zimniysoldatka]

"It was safer than staying put..." she mumbled almost sulkily as he commented on her situation. It was a cruel reminder of the life they'd lost to Hydra, Becca pouting after being scolded by her big brother. Or, maybe it was a sign she was still in there somewhere. His baby sister who'd never even thought of being a soldier.

When he suggested that she should go with him, she felt that urge to run clawing its way back up. The remaining HYDRA brainwashing was trying to convince her this was a bad idea. She shouldn't want this. She wasn't supposed to be Becca anymore.

"Bucky..." she said again, her voice uncertain. "Are you sure that's safe?"

She could end up leading HYDRA back to them--back to him. Or she could hurt them herself. It wouldn't take much at all, just someone who knew her protocols.

She didn't want to hurt people anymore.

Still, she could see by the desperation in his eyes that she might not be getting much of a choice in the matter.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The flicker of her old self—that defensive, almost-sulky mumble—hit him right in the heart. It was so her, a ghost of the girl who'd argued with him about curfews and which radio programs to listen to. It made the fear in her eyes all the more wrong.

"I'm not safe. You're not safe. The world isn't safe." He held her gaze, his own blue eyes mirroring hers. "But we're a hell of a lot safer together than we are apart."

He finally acknowledged the unspoken terror between them. "I know the protocols. I know what they can do. And I have people, good people, the best, who know how to break them. They did it for me." He gestured vaguely at his own head. "They can do it for you. But we can't do it if you're alone in a hotel room waiting for a knock on the door."

He finally reached out, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. He didn't touch her, just laid his hand, palm up, on the table between them. An invitation. A promise.

"I lost you once," he said, the raw pain back in his voice, but controlled now, channeled into sheer, stubborn will. "I am not losing you again to those bastards. I don't care if you're the most dangerous person in this city. You're my sister. Come with me, Rebecca."

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Even if she didn't fully remember who she was, or what exactly Bucky meant to her, she still felt it. The way he looked at her, the way he said her name--calling her Bec instead of Becca like they'd never been apart-- everything made her feel something. She couldn't even tell the emotions apart, it was all so much, but she felt it deep in her chest.

"Bucky..."

Her own voice broke at that. Seeing the way that one sentence broke him hurt more than anything. This wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. Right? He hadn't had a choice. Neither of them did.

"It isn't your fault."

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should've just left the cafe, and avoided this entirely. He could've gone on thinking she'd passed peacefully of old age or something (how old was she supposed to be now? She didn't know) and she could've...figured something else out. Become someone new.

There was too much happening now. After who knows how many years of not feeling anything, suddenly feeling everything was just overwhelming. That urge to run and hide was only getting worse, those scared animal mannerisms just becoming more pronounced.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Her voice, saying his name like that, cut through the storm of his guilt. It isn't your fault. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the weight of the century pressed down on him, a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

He rubbed his face with his right hand. This wasn't the time of his self-pity.

The overwhelming need to apologize, to grieve, was suddenly eclipsed by something sharper, more primal: protection. She was here. She was alive. His mission, the only one that had ever truly mattered, snapped back into focus.

So, he assessed. She was clearly away from Hydra, otherwise she wouldn't be here, which meant she wasn't under their control. But he didn't know if she still had her trigger words into effect.

He didn't know anything about his sister anymore.

"Are you... safe? Are they... looking for you?" he questioned, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have... protocols?"

His eyes flickered over her. "Where are you staying? Is it secure?" The questions came rapid-fire, born of a desperate need to establish a perimeter, to create a zone of safety around this impossible, fragile miracle sitting across from him.

[zimniysoldatka]

She recognized the shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly focused in on her like he was starting a new mission. It's was exactly what she did too, when things were too much. Having something to focus on, to push everything else aside, helped make it easier during the more overwhelming days.

Seeing things snap into place like that helped her do the same, and she was able to shove that urge to disappear aside again, at least for a little longer. She couldn't run. They had to debrief. Her answers came as quickly as his questions as she locked in on this new mission.

"I'm as safe as I can be," she said carefully. "I'm sure they're looking, but I got rid of their trackers. They haven't caught up yet. I...still have protocols."

That was the biggest reason for her constant wariness. If she let her guard down for even a second, and they found her, she'd be back under their control in seconds. She doubted she'd be given another chance to escape.

"I've been moving around a lot. Just in case. I'm at a hotel right now."

It definitely wasn't the most secure option, but she could take care of herself. She'd stayed ahead of Hydra this far, right?

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Trackers removed. Still has protocols. Hotel. His mind, honed by decades of warfare and evasion, processed it instantly, cross-referencing it with his own brutal experience.

A hotel was a nightmare. Too many variables. Too many points of entry. Too many people. It was a place to sleep, not a fortress.

"No," he said, the word sharp and final. It wasn't a rejection of her; it was a rejection of her entire situation. "That's not safe. Moving around isn't going to keep you safe."

He sighed. "Bec, I got- I got a place, and people that can...help keep you safe. They'd never find you. We can figure out the protocols. We can… we can fix that."

He needed to keep her safe, yeah, but it was more than that. He didn't want her out of his sight. Not for a while, maybe not ever.

Bucky was desperate.

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Even if she didn't fully remember who she was, or what exactly Bucky meant to her, she still felt it. The way he looked at her, the way he said her name--calling her Bec instead of Becca like they'd never been apart-- everything made her feel something. She couldn't even tell the emotions apart, it was all so much, but she felt it deep in her chest.

"Bucky..."

Her own voice broke at that. Seeing the way that one sentence broke him hurt more than anything. This wasn't his fault any more than it was hers. Right? He hadn't had a choice. Neither of them did.

"It isn't your fault."

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should've just left the cafe, and avoided this entirely. He could've gone on thinking she'd passed peacefully of old age or something (how old was she supposed to be now? She didn't know) and she could've...figured something else out. Become someone new.

There was too much happening now. After who knows how many years of not feeling anything, suddenly feeling everything was just overwhelming. That urge to run and hide was only getting worse, those scared animal mannerisms just becoming more pronounced.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Her voice, saying his name like that, cut through the storm of his guilt. It isn't your fault. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the weight of the century pressed down on him, a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

He rubbed his face with his right hand. This wasn't the time of his self-pity.

The overwhelming need to apologize, to grieve, was suddenly eclipsed by something sharper, more primal: protection. She was here. She was alive. His mission, the only one that had ever truly mattered, snapped back into focus.

So, he assessed. She was clearly away from Hydra, otherwise she wouldn't be here, which meant she wasn't under their control. But he didn't know if she still had her trigger words into effect.

He didn't know anything about his sister anymore.

"Are you... safe? Are they... looking for you?" he questioned, his voice a low, urgent rumble. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have... protocols?"

His eyes flickered over her. "Where are you staying? Is it secure?" The questions came rapid-fire, born of a desperate need to establish a perimeter, to create a zone of safety around this impossible, fragile miracle sitting across from him.

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Becca's eyes didn't leave him for even a moment as he slid into the booth. She could see the way he calculated his every move, like the wrong thing could set her off. She hated to admit he was right. Even now, knowing who he was, finally starting to put the pieces together, she couldn't completely get rid of the urge to run. To get out of there and disappear into the crowds of the city.

Hydra hadn't wanted them to meet, and definitely hadn't wanted them to talk. After all, Bucky was the only person in the world who knew her. The old her--The real her.

She was quiet for a long time when he asked that, unsure of how to answer. Every answer she thought of she knew would hurt him, whether because she'd be lying or because the truth was just so terrible. He was her big brother. He'd only ever wanted to keep her safe.

Her eyes flicked to his metal arm for a moment. Lying wouldn't help either of them, would it?

"The same thing that happened to you, I think," she finally said, meeting his gaze again. It was like looking in a mirror, seeing her own wariness and confusion reflected in his expression.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, confirming his deepest, most horrific fear. The same thing that happened to you. The air in the cafe suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe.

No. No, not her. Anyone but her.

He saw the flashes behind his eyes. The cold bite of the metal table. The searing pain of the recalibration. The hollow, empty feeling of being nothing but a weapon. The decades of ice and blood. Then he saw her there. His baby sister. His Becca.

A low, wounded sound escaped him. He dropped his head into his hands. The guilt was instantaneous and all-consuming, a black hole opening in his chest. He'd failed. He'd gone to war to protect his family, to make a world safe for her, and instead, he'd somehow led the monster right to her doorstep.

"Jesus Christ…" He forced his head up, his vision blurry.

"I'm sorry, Bec," he choked out, his voice cracking again. The words felt utterly inadequate. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to protect you."

He was apologizing for everything. For enlisting. For falling from the train. For surviving when he shouldn't have. For existing in a way that had somehow drawn Hydra's poison into her life.

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd thought about this many times. What she'd say when she finally met Bucky, the face who'd been haunting her via news clips and posters and flashes of memory for months now. She'd been too uncertain to ever reach out, but she'd thought about what she'd say if this happened. What she'd do. There had to be some kind of connection, after all. Why else would just seeing his face in a photo remind her that she was missing so much of herself?

But none of that mattered. It was like she'd never prepared at all.

Hearing him say her name hit her like a freight train. She could hear that voice, his voice, say it a thousand ways in her head, as if they'd known each other for a lifetime. It filled her with an intense longing for something she couldn't quite remember, hiding just out of reach in her mind. Something warm, and safe, and...home.

Do you know me?

She gave a soft gasp, and finally, finally there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes, the wary confusion giving way to a tentative hope.

Of course she knew him. Or, she'd used to. Before the war had torn them apart. Before Hydra remade them.

"...Bucky?" She breathed softly, almost not believing it.

He was her brother.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky winced but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Bec. It's Bucky." His voice cracked. "It's me."

He put his coffee down on the table, afraid he was going to drop it with how much he was shaking. The world had narrowed to this single point, this impossible person in a cafe booth. Decades of grief and guilt and frozen numbness shattered, and for a terrifying second, he was just a kid from Brooklyn again, looking at his little sister.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? And why...was she acting like him?

Bucky slowly, carefully, slid into the booth opposite her. He moved like she was a spooked animal, which, he realized with a fresh wave of nausea, she probably was.

"Becca," he said again, his voice low. He kept his hands on the table, palms down, non-threatening. "How…?"

"What happened to you?" he asked finally. It was the only thing that mattered.

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

She'd expected him to leave. Even if they knew each other before, which was a big if, surely she looked different now. She had to--she'd been through so much, that had to change her.

But he didn't. He was...walking up to her table. He was talking to her. She couldn't put this off anymore.

She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. She was older than when he'd last seen her by a few years--she'd been 17 when he enlisted and got his orders, still a child with dreams bigger than she was. But she was far younger than she should've been, over 100 years after she'd been born.

"I...I'm not sure."

She gazed at him so intently, as if by staring long enough she could figure it out. She knew him. She had to--something in her chest ached when he spoke to her, fighting against whatever they'd done to her that made her want to run. His voice was so familiar.

"...I'm Becca."

[nowthe-whitewolf]

The air left his lungs in a rush. The name hit him like a physical blow, a sucker punch to a wound that had never truly healed. Becca. His baby sister. The one he'd left behind to go to war.

She was supposed to be an old woman. She was supposed to be gone.

But the woman in front of him was young. Her face was unlined, her eyes clear. It was impossible. A trick. A cruel, beautiful, devastating trick.

His metal hand tightened around the coffee cup, the paper crinkling loudly in the quiet space between them. He could see the wariness in her eyes, the confusion that mirrored his own. She was looking at him like he was a ghost, too.

"Becca," he repeated, the name a prayer and a curse on his lips. He could be overthinking this. But Bucky could only believe in so many coincidences.

"I'm...Bucky. Do you-know me?" It felt like a stupid question to ask, but his head was swimming as it is.

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[zimniysoldatka]

Some days it was easier to treat her coffee mornings like an assignment. Reconnaissance of some kind. Gathering knowledge, if not about herself, then about the world. Was that unhealthy? Probably. Did it work? Yes.

Today was one of those days. Becca had an old (because old books just felt better to her), used copy of The Fellowship of the Ring she'd found at a thrift store in her hand and her coffee (really, it was milk and cream and syrup with a hint of coffee) on the table as she settled in for the morning. The book was interesting, but today was definitely a recon day. She took note of every person who walked in, picked up on snippets of conversation as they walked by.

Then he walked in. James Barnes. She'd heard his name before, of course. She'd seen him on tv and in photos and every time is triggered...something. A feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on--a memory they'd tried so hard to erase from her mind. But now, in person? She felt her fight or flight kick in, her heart suddenly beating double time as she looked back down to her book just before they made eye contact.

They weren't supposed to meet. Her handlers didn't want them to meet. She was supposed to be running right now. Which meant she should just stay here, right? Or, better yet, talk to him?

But she found herself frozen, gaze focused on te book even if her brain wasn't processing any of the words as she felt his gaze land on her.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Bucky swallowed, still looking at her. Becca Barnes was dead, he knew that. Of course, she was dead. This was someone that looked like her. He was getting it wrong.

And looking like a creep.

Get it together, Barnes.

He looked away, quickly walking to the counter. He stumbled through his order of just a black coffee, trying not to do something stupid like go talk to her-

He paid for the coffee. His back was to her, but he could feel her presence like a physical thing, a magnetic pull that made the metal plates in his arm seem to hum.

He took his coffee and couldn't bring himself to turn around immediately. He just stood there, staring at the espresso machine as it hissed. Walk away. Just walk out the door.

But his feet didn't obey. They never did when it came to ghosts.

Slowly, he turned. His eyes found her again, almost against his will. She was pretending to read, but the tension in her shoulders was a dead giveaway. She was coiled tight, a spring ready to release. He knew that posture. It was the posture of a soldier trying to look casual in a hostile environment. It was his posture on most days.

She shouldn't be acting like a soldier. Shouldn't be acting like him.

His feet were moving before his brain could stop them, carrying him toward her booth. He stopped a few feet away, a respectful distance, not wanting to corner her.

His voice, when it came out, was softer than he intended, rough with a confusion he couldn't hide. "I'm… I'm sorry to bother you. This is gonna sound crazy but…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the book in her hands, then back to her face. "Do I… know you?"

[zimniysoldatka]

Open Starter

She wasn't The Asset. Not anymore.

Not for now, anyway.

She was always acutely aware that they could find her and make her compliant again with a few words, drag her back to the lab to be wiped and retrained and frozen again...

But they weren't here yet, and in the meantime...well, she was still here. Still a person, somehow. A person named Becca.

Today, Becca was being very brave and getting coffee all by herself, from a local cafe that was quickly becoming her favorite. She ordered coffee, and then sat in a booth in the corner to read for a bit.

Still, she kept an eye on the door, making note of everyone else who came in. Just in case.

[nowthe-whitewolf]

Today had been a particularly bad day.

Now Bucky had bad days very often, and usually they were softened by going home. Home had everything and everyone he cared about. But home wasn't somewhere he wanted to be today. It wouldn't help.

Usually, when those days happened, he'd wander around aimlessly in the city, thinking about everything and nothing at all. If anyone needed him, they'd call. It was still remarkable how simple communication had gotten.

And then a Cafe came into view. He blinked as he stopped and focused on it. There was something about it...

Bucky would usually just ignore the feeling and go back to his walking. But there was something about it. He sighed heavily, before pushing the door to enter.

His eyes scanned over the place out of habit. And then he stilled.

No. No way. Not possible. It wasn't.

[opossumblyobsessed]

after making this i thought it deserved its own post:

(but then i forgot about it for a month 😅 but now it’s here)