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one
Two nights after Barnes has been deprogrammed, he turns up at Maria’s quarters.
“Come to apologise.” Okoye rises from the armchair in which she was sitting discussing matters of national and international security with Maria when the doorbell announces ‘James Barnes’.
“Or to finish his work.” Maria indicates her throat where the bruises are slowly fading.
The Wakandan’s smile flashes, sleek and wicked. “As to that, it was a very shoddy attempt to kill you.”
“All things considered,” Maria reflects, “I’m glad it was.”
It’s not quite a shock to see Barnes shaved and changed, and looking neither like a refugee from the law, nor like an internationally hunted assassin, but it is still new enough to give Maria pause. Although not as much pause as the bows he tenders to Okoye as she passes him, graceful as a courtier, making her laugh as she bids them good night.
But when he turns back to Maria, his expression is serious. “May I come in?”
“As long as you don’t expect hospitality.”
“I’m not looking for a nightcap.”
She sits down and watches him drift through the room. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“No.”
“Then what makes you think you’l find it here?”
He shrugs. “Because you didn’t know me before. You don’t have...expectations.”
Ah. The last two days have been spent more or less working out what Barnes knows and can remember – or, at least, will admit to knowing and remembering. It turns out he hasn’t lived that much beyond the missions they sent him on, and even then large sections of his mission memory are Swiss cheese, and may remain so. In Maria’s opinion, that’s no small blessing.
The things he remembers clearly tend to be emotional – and both Steve and Natasha feature heavily in those, so far as Maria has been able to determine without probing too deeply. There are things she doesn’t need to know about Barnes’ relationship with those two, particularly given the state (or statelessness) of her own relationship with them.
But she has to correct him on one thing.
“As a matter of fact—”
“Personal expectations.” Barnes gives her a droll look. “We both know that you didn’t take the triggers out so I could spend my days on a beach getting a tan.”
--
two
The second morning after the deprogramming, Maria walks into the ‘breakfast café’ at the facility and finds Steve and Natasha already sitting at a table, with Barnes just picking up a tray of two coffees from the pickup area.
She nods briefly at them – she’s still stinging at the cold shoulder Steve’s been giving her for the last two weeks – and is about to order something to takeaway, when Barnes intercepts her.
“May I have a word, commander?”
He offers her the coffee in the tray, and she blinks but takes it, and follows his direction out through the doors to the balcony overlooking the valley. They’re guests of T’Challa here – at least for the next week, during which time Maria plans to make Barnes an offer, see it through if he’s willing to take it, and then get the hell out of dodge.
“Nice view if you can get it,” he comments as he sets the tray down on a table and picks out his coffee, leaning against the railing over a four-hundred foot drop into jungle.
“You didn’t come to talk about the view.”
He indicates her throat. “How’s...?”
She snorts, and pulls down the neck of the sweater she’s wearing – the mornings are crisp here, and it’s been easier to hide the bruises than to fend off the questions. He winces and looks away, the gesture very much like one of Steve’s. “It looks worse than it feels – unless someone puts pressure on it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You had reason.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry about it.” He bites the words out and stares fixedly into the valley.
When Maria envisioned Bucky Barnes, it was either as the laughing friend and buddy that Steve talks about, or as the traumatised man behind the programming of the merciless killer. This man is more like a soldier – or an agent, she thinks. He has his own code of honour, like Steve, but he’s more likely to do the job, stay in the shadows, stay out of sight.
In a way, it’s reassuring to know the myth is human, too.
--
three
If Bucky Barnes isn’t the last person Maria would expect to find at the door of her quarters, he’s very low on the list.
The Wakandan woman’s smile “He could have done that earlier.”
But when Barnes comes in, he doesn’t show any desire to finish choking the life out of Maria, although he does gesture a the scarf around her neck. “How’s...?”
She pulls the scarf away so he can wince a the hand-shaped bruise on her throat.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“You had reason.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry about it.”
He seems oddly belligerent about that. Maria thinks about asking what’s nagging him, then decides she can’t be bothered. Her job was to come here, defrost and deprogram him, and offer him a job of sorts, if he’s willing and interested. Picking around through his psyche was not on her ‘To Do’ list, and she’s not about to add it – particularly at this hour. “What did you come for, Barnes?”
“An opinion. On Steve. And on Romanoff.”
“You want my opinion on Steve and Natasha? Individually or together?”
Barnes frowns a little. “They’ve been together?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Natasha might have, but she’s quite sure Steve wouldn’t. “I mean as a unit.”
“Professionally, rather than personally.”
--
four
As Maria lets her friend out and Barnes in, she thinks she would have been in bed an hour ago but for Okoye’s visit. And now there’s Barnes who’s shaved and changed, and looking more like a human being and less like either a fugitive or an assassin, but who Maria really didn’t think she’d see until at least tomorrow morning, considering how close Steve’s been sticking to his friend ever since the
“How’s the throat?”
Without a word, she pulls the scarf away from her throat, and watches watches him wince at the clear print of his hand on her skin.
“Then go forth and sin no more.”
But she’s a little surprised when he meets her whimsy with his own. “Tell all the nations what has been done for you?”
Maria finds herself smiling. “Is that what you want? To have your name cleared?”
“Can they?” The question linger beween them, the stump of his arm shifting as though in uncomfortable memory. “I did what they accused me of – brainwashed or not. Steve think that it’s enough that I wasn’t myself, but...I’m still the Winter Soldier – I just can’t be programmed with orders anymore. Thank you for that.”
Maria shrugs. “You’re welcome.”
Silence falls. Maria feels no need to fill it, so she waits. So does he. And after a few moments, he smiles. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”
“You came to me; it wasn’t just to say sorry.”
“And you deprogrammed me; it wasn’t just out of the goodness of your heart.”
--
five
She expects him to look at Steve as he wakes. Steve’s standing front and centre, the first contact they want Barnes to make, so that he knows he’s safe. But as he rouses slowly from the stasis, his head shifts, and he opens his eyes and looks directly at Maria.
His eyes widen, and his throat works.
“Bucky?”
The blue eyes drag from Maria to look at his friend. “Steve?” He shakes his head as though to clear it, then looks back at Maria again, and while she doesn’t know him well enough to say what’s dawning on his face, she thinks it might be recognition. “Maria Hill.”
“Bucky Barnes.” She figures he’s looked to her, she might as well take the lead. “Welcome back.”
--
Two nights after Barnes has been deprogrammed, he turns up at Maria’s quarters.
“Come to apologise.” Okoye rises from the armchair in which she was sitting discussing matters of national and international security with Maria when the doorbell announces ‘James Barnes’.
“Or to finish his work.” Maria indicates her throat where the bruises are slowly fading.
The Wakandan’s smile flashes, sleek and wicked. “As to that, it was a very shoddy attempt to kill you.”
“All things considered,” Maria reflects, “I’m glad it was.”
It’s not quite a shock to see Barnes shaved and changed, and looking neither like a refugee from the law, nor like an internationally hunted assassin, but it is still new enough to give Maria pause. Although not as much pause as the bows he tenders to Okoye as she passes him, graceful as a courtier, making her laugh as she bids them good night.
But when he turns back to Maria, his expression is serious. “May I come in?”
“As long as you don’t expect hospitality.”
“I’m not looking for a nightcap.”
She sits down and watches him drift through the room. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“No.”
“Then what makes you think you’l find it here?”
He shrugs. “Because you didn’t know me before. You don’t have...expectations.”
Ah. The last two days have been spent more or less working out what Barnes knows and can remember – or, at least, will admit to knowing and remembering. It turns out he hasn’t lived that much beyond the missions they sent him on, and even then large sections of his mission memory are Swiss cheese, and may remain so. In Maria’s opinion, that’s no small blessing.
The things he remembers clearly tend to be emotional – and both Steve and Natasha feature heavily in those, so far as Maria has been able to determine without probing too deeply. There are things she doesn’t need to know about Barnes’ relationship with those two, particularly given the state (or statelessness) of her own relationship with them.
But she has to correct him on one thing.
“As a matter of fact—”
“Personal expectations.” Barnes gives her a droll look. “We both know that you didn’t take the triggers out so I could spend my days on a beach getting a tan.”
--
two
The second morning after the deprogramming, Maria walks into the ‘breakfast café’ at the facility and finds Steve and Natasha already sitting at a table, with Barnes just picking up a tray of two coffees from the pickup area.
She nods briefly at them – she’s still stinging at the cold shoulder Steve’s been giving her for the last two weeks – and is about to order something to takeaway, when Barnes intercepts her.
“May I have a word, commander?”
He offers her the coffee in the tray, and she blinks but takes it, and follows his direction out through the doors to the balcony overlooking the valley. They’re guests of T’Challa here – at least for the next week, during which time Maria plans to make Barnes an offer, see it through if he’s willing to take it, and then get the hell out of dodge.
“Nice view if you can get it,” he comments as he sets the tray down on a table and picks out his coffee, leaning against the railing over a four-hundred foot drop into jungle.
“You didn’t come to talk about the view.”
He indicates her throat. “How’s...?”
She snorts, and pulls down the neck of the sweater she’s wearing – the mornings are crisp here, and it’s been easier to hide the bruises than to fend off the questions. He winces and looks away, the gesture very much like one of Steve’s. “It looks worse than it feels – unless someone puts pressure on it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You had reason.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry about it.” He bites the words out and stares fixedly into the valley.
When Maria envisioned Bucky Barnes, it was either as the laughing friend and buddy that Steve talks about, or as the traumatised man behind the programming of the merciless killer. This man is more like a soldier – or an agent, she thinks. He has his own code of honour, like Steve, but he’s more likely to do the job, stay in the shadows, stay out of sight.
In a way, it’s reassuring to know the myth is human, too.
--
three
If Bucky Barnes isn’t the last person Maria would expect to find at the door of her quarters, he’s very low on the list.
The Wakandan woman’s smile “He could have done that earlier.”
But when Barnes comes in, he doesn’t show any desire to finish choking the life out of Maria, although he does gesture a the scarf around her neck. “How’s...?”
She pulls the scarf away so he can wince a the hand-shaped bruise on her throat.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“You had reason.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry about it.”
He seems oddly belligerent about that. Maria thinks about asking what’s nagging him, then decides she can’t be bothered. Her job was to come here, defrost and deprogram him, and offer him a job of sorts, if he’s willing and interested. Picking around through his psyche was not on her ‘To Do’ list, and she’s not about to add it – particularly at this hour. “What did you come for, Barnes?”
“An opinion. On Steve. And on Romanoff.”
“You want my opinion on Steve and Natasha? Individually or together?”
Barnes frowns a little. “They’ve been together?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Natasha might have, but she’s quite sure Steve wouldn’t. “I mean as a unit.”
“Professionally, rather than personally.”
--
four
As Maria lets her friend out and Barnes in, she thinks she would have been in bed an hour ago but for Okoye’s visit. And now there’s Barnes who’s shaved and changed, and looking more like a human being and less like either a fugitive or an assassin, but who Maria really didn’t think she’d see until at least tomorrow morning, considering how close Steve’s been sticking to his friend ever since the
“How’s the throat?”
Without a word, she pulls the scarf away from her throat, and watches watches him wince at the clear print of his hand on her skin.
“Then go forth and sin no more.”
But she’s a little surprised when he meets her whimsy with his own. “Tell all the nations what has been done for you?”
Maria finds herself smiling. “Is that what you want? To have your name cleared?”
“Can they?” The question linger beween them, the stump of his arm shifting as though in uncomfortable memory. “I did what they accused me of – brainwashed or not. Steve think that it’s enough that I wasn’t myself, but...I’m still the Winter Soldier – I just can’t be programmed with orders anymore. Thank you for that.”
Maria shrugs. “You’re welcome.”
Silence falls. Maria feels no need to fill it, so she waits. So does he. And after a few moments, he smiles. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”
“You came to me; it wasn’t just to say sorry.”
“And you deprogrammed me; it wasn’t just out of the goodness of your heart.”
--
five
She expects him to look at Steve as he wakes. Steve’s standing front and centre, the first contact they want Barnes to make, so that he knows he’s safe. But as he rouses slowly from the stasis, his head shifts, and he opens his eyes and looks directly at Maria.
His eyes widen, and his throat works.
“Bucky?”
The blue eyes drag from Maria to look at his friend. “Steve?” He shakes his head as though to clear it, then looks back at Maria again, and while she doesn’t know him well enough to say what’s dawning on his face, she thinks it might be recognition. “Maria Hill.”
“Bucky Barnes.” She figures he’s looked to her, she might as well take the lead. “Welcome back.”
--
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