Monster

I had never been to the West Coast before staying in Malibu. Tony once offered to take the entire family to Disneyland, but since there were no children in the family, we didn't accept. Also, mainly because it was just a ruse to get Clara to stay with him in Malibu instead of spending all her time in New York.

Even though I'd grown up in Ohio, DC was my home. I'd lived there for the past few years. And it didn't seem like much in the span of my life, but it was where my memories were the sharpest, even if they weren't the fondest.

When Tony's private jet landed in California, I felt like I'd moved to a different planet. Tony lived by the ocean in a tropical area that was sweltering hot in the sun and freezing in the shade. I could never get used to it.

The house was also as lavish as I expected. It had more windows than any home needed, and it was always too bright and too air-conditioned. There were too many rooms, and Tony spent all his time in his lab talking to his robots while Clara hid in the upstairs office working.

Tony gave me a job I could do at home, so I never had to leave. It was too simple to be a real job, and he gave me more money than I deserved. I saved it so I'd have something to fall back on when I inevitably returned to DC. Since I had no plans to go to New York with them. However, Clara kept making excuses for why I couldn't go yet because she was sure I'd be brutally murdered by a super-assassin.

During the late afternoons, I would take my laptop onto the back deck that overlooked the ocean. I'd hide in the cool shade for as long as I could handle it. I liked it better out there. I felt less cooped up by the ocean. And Clara and Tony were getting ready to leave for some event. I could hear them bickering.

Clara seemed to think I wasn't recovering because I sat around the house all day and didn't bother to get dressed in regular clothes most of the time. She thought working on the laptop put too much strain on my arm and suggested I lie around and do nothing instead. But she didn't like me leaving the house too much, just in case I was kidnapped. If I didn't work, I would think, and I hated thinking more than working.

Even though there weren't any more staples in my shoulder and I didn't have to wear a sling, it still hurt constantly. Most of the bone was replaced or plated. The scars forming on the new wound were oddly different from the ones on the other side. It was red and painful, and the bullet and surgery left clear lines instead of spider webs of fused tissue.

Whenever conversations about the shoulder came up, Clara liked to remind me of who had put them there. He was the reason my arm was so challenging to move without pain and the reason I sat outside all day with nothing but my thoughts and an effortless job.

It didn't matter how often I tried to explain that Bucky shot me to buy me time and save my life. It didn't matter that he was a perfect shot and changed his target at the very last second. It didn't matter that his plan worked and that he'd bought enough time for Tony to get to me. Clara still wasn't convinced that he hadn't done it out of malevolence.

The screen door beside me was open, and I could hear Clara clicking around the house in her heels, arguing with Tony. Tony had some special event planned that she didn't want to attend, but he insisted she had to be there. Since her job was to make sure he didn't say anything stupid. Or at least clean up the mess in the press when he inevitably did anyway.

"I don't need keys!" Tony was arguing as he followed her around the house. "It's fingerprint activated. You would have known if you kept the car I got you for your birthday."

"Well, that's just stupid," she decided. "I could just cut your finger off and steal the car."

"Jarvis would know if you chopped off my finger. It would self-destruct."

"Should we test it?"

I listened to this for a few more minutes before Tony went off to search for his tie, and Clara appeared at the door. She slid the screen open and stepped out onto the deck. She was wearing a simple black dress that probably cost more than my computer. Her hair was done up all neat and professional, but she looked beautiful like always. I realized how awful I must have looked in my hoodie with my tangled hair.

"We're about to leave. Are you sure you don't want to come?" she asked, setting a hand on the glass railing to balance herself and adjust a strappy shoe. I snorted.

"I wouldn't even go out to the mailbox looking like this," I remarked.

"We can make a pit stop at a salon. Or I could always just chop off Tony's finger and come back for you when you're done getting ready."

"I don't really feel like going anywhere."

"I know. I was just hoping my joke might change your mind. Or maybe just the thought of Tony missing a finger." I laughed shortly.

"It's tempting, but I wouldn't want you to blow up." She waved the idea away and looked out over the ocean.

"He's just bluffing. And if he isn't—I bet you he's telling Jarvis to disable that function right now. Just in case I'm serious." I shook my head and smiled.

"I'll pass. Tony can keep his finger for another day."

"Well, I suppose I can find another reason. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

"I'll see you later."

I waved goodbye, and she disappeared into the house, closing the screen door behind her. They bickered a bit more before the front door shut, and the house fell silent. Even being on the opposite side of the house and so close to the ocean, the sound of Tony's car engine rose up above everything else. I waited to hear it zoom down the driveway before getting up.

The sun was setting, and my battery was starting to die. So I stood and stretched. I'd seen too many sunsets since coming to Malibu. Steve said he wanted me to join his search for Bucky as soon as my doctor gave the okay. The only problem was that my doctor wouldn't. Physical therapy was taking much longer this time. But I also hadn't shattered a bone the first time.

My presence was putting a strain on Clara and Tony's relationship. Clara's home was in New York, but she stayed in Malibu for me. And it bothered Tony that she was only there for me, even though he acted like he liked having me around. I still felt like he'd rather not see me parked out on his deck every afternoon.

I decided another sunset over the ocean wasn't a good enough reason to let my battery die. So I collected my laptop and returned to the house and the air conditioner. The computer's charger was plugged into a power station in the center of the coffee table, even though Tony hated my "dinosaur" machine and offered to give me a new one. I sat down and plugged it in, just in time to save it.

"Hey, Jarvis?" I asked.

"Yes, Miss Hayes?" the disembodied voice answered.

"Could you turn the AC back on?"

"The air conditioning has been pre-set to a comfortable sixty-five degrees. Would you like me to change it?"

"No, that's fine. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss Hayes."

"Is there any water in the fridge?"

"The upstairs refrigerator was stocked just yesterday."

"Thanks, buddy."

"You're welcome, Miss Hayes."

The walk from the living room to the kitchen took a ridiculous amount of time for one open space. The kitchen was too big. The living room was too big. And Tony didn't even spend all his time in that house. But they'd given me a place to stay so I wouldn't complain.

I pulled the fridge open, but the light didn't turn on. So I reached up to press the toggle button, but it still didn't come back on. It wasn't humming either.

"Uh—Jarvis?" I asked. There was no response. I shut the fridge and listened to the quiet house. All I could hear was the roar of the ocean and the call of seagulls. Even the AC was quiet.

Tony's house was never supposed to be without power. He never had to worry about unpaid bills, and his backup generators had backup generators. It was built so that even if the power did go out, the solar panels would still keep the place running for a while.

The only way the power could go off was if someone shut it off intentionally. Jarvis was also supposed to override that action. So if Jarvis wasn't getting it back on, it meant a line was cut. The only thing that comforted me was that Jarvis would undoubtedly alert Tony from his car, and he hadn't been gone for very long.

I swiveled around, and just as expected, a figure was standing by the back door. He was dressed in his full suit, eyes and mouth covered now. The only part of him left exposed was the metal arm, which was clenched in a fist at his side.

I told myself that if I saw Bucky again, I wouldn't be afraid, and I wouldn't run. But I also didn't know what kind of frame of mind he'd be in. I couldn't connect with him through a mask. He was still and silent. My heart was beating in my chest. I took a cautious step forward.

"Bucky?"

He had a weapon clutched in his right hand. He lifted it in my direction, and I jumped behind the counter to shield myself. The weapon didn't fire, and I crouched behind the counter, clutching my pounding heart.

He appeared around the other side and lifted the weapon again. I bolted out from my cover and ran for the front door. I didn't know where the hell I'd go, but it seemed like the right choice to make. The weapon fired with a click and a swish. A wire shot around my ankle and knocked me to the floor hard. He yanked me toward him, sliding me across the smooth floor.

"Bucky, please?" I shouted, throwing up my hands. He paused and stood over me. "It's me. It's Jo. Please tell me you remember. You know me. You don't have to do this. I can help you."

I hoped my plea was getting through to him, but he only paused for a moment before the metal hand slammed into my throat. My breath caught in a strangled gag, and I struggled uselessly to get his hand off me. I kicked my feet and hit his arms, but nothing worked. I reached for his face on instinct, dug my fingers in, and the mask fell away. His eyes were dark and focused, as if he didn't see me at all, let alone recognize me.

"Let her go," a voice said, along with the familiar sound of Tony's suit powering up as he prepped to fire.

A bright light shot from the center of his palm and hit Bucky in the chest. He went flying into the kitchen, crashing into everything on his way down. But he was back on his feet in an instant and came barreling toward Tony. I was still struggling to breathe as they waged war against each other. Tony threw Bucky toward the sliding glass door and raised his hand to fire again. But I jumped up between them.

"Tony!" I gasped, putting my hands up. "Stop—don't hurt him." Both men froze. The Iron mask stared at me, and even though Tony's face wasn't visible, his disbelief was palpable.

"He tried to kill you," he stated.

"He wasn't trying to kill me. Hydra was. Bucky was just the weapon, and if he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead. He could have crushed my throat or shot me and left."

"Stop making excuses for him, Jo. He's Hydra's attack dog."

"Exactly! He's innocent!"

"He's beyond saving. The sooner you realize that, the better for all of us."

"Just let me talk to him. Please?"

"He's not here to talk. He came to kill you. Probably Clara and me too. Is that…?"

Tony had one suit that acted without his instructions. It was set to protect him if he was under stress. I'd never seen it in action, but I heard about it when he fought the Mandarin and sent a whole fleet of them to help.

The sound of a suit prepping for fire interrupted Tony's sentence. We both turned to look at where it stood in the hall with its arm raised and prepared for an attack.

"No, no, no, no!" Tony shouted, but it was too late. The suit was aimed at Bucky, the threat, and I was right in front of him.

Bucky swiveled, blocking me from the blast. It hit him in the space between his shoulder blades and sent the both of us crashing through the screen door and out onto the deck. Glass shattered, and the next thing I knew, there was nothing beneath me but air and open water.

"Tony!" I screamed, scrambling to catch the broken railing. I was lying on the screen as it slid off the deck.

Broken glass pressed into my skin as I tried to grasp what was left of the railing to keep myself up. The movement sent ripples of pain down my arm. The glass snapped under my skin. I lost my hold and dropped. But suddenly, metal wrapped around my wrist, and his face hovered above mine, stern with determination.

"Tell me what you know," he demanded as I dangled above the ocean, hanging on by nothing but his hand around my wrist.

"What?" I shouted, one second away from complete hysteria.

"Let her go!" Tony yelled from the deck. If I dropped again, Tony could probably catch me before I hit the water. But I didn't like my odds or painful position. My wrist was dripping blood from where the glass had broken through the skin, and my bad shoulder was taking up all my weight.

"Tell me what you know about me. You called me by a name," Bucky repeated. My heart was hammering in my ribcage, and there was too much strain on my shoulder. I could barely think through the pain, let alone answer.

"I-I-Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. I called you Bucky. That's your nickname. You're from Brooklyn, New York. Your best friend was Steve Rogers. You fought together. In the war. Against Hydra."

"Tell me something only you would know!" he said, shaking me and making me shriek as my legs swung freely through the air.

"Okay! Okay! I know—I know about your fall from the train! You told me you remembered lying in the snow! Bleeding! Screaming for help! Half your arm was severed!"

"Something about you!"

"I'm trying!" I screamed. "You told me no one else knew you remembered it! You said that when they came for you, you thought it was Steve, and that was the last moment you remember being truly happy before you met me! You told me this the night before Hydra came back for you! You said what happened between us was real! You put your hand over my heart, and you said it was real!"

Before I could finish, he yanked me back onto the deck, practically launching me toward the broken door. I slid across chunks of glass and clutched at my aching shoulder. Bucky was back on his feet, stomping toward me, crunching glass beneath his boots. I looked up as he approached.

"Why did you block me from him?" he asked. I wrapped my hand around the cut on my wrist. Blood oozed out from between my fingers.

"I didn't want him to hurt you," I admitted.

"You care about me."

"Yes."

"Why do they want you alive?" He stepped toward me, and Tony's suit prepped to defend me again. But he stayed back so I could get the conversation I asked for. I had no doubt he'd launch Bucky into the sea if he went after me again.

"Because I was important to you once? Because the last time you got free, I helped you regain your sense of self. I helped you remember."

"No," he said as he stepped closer. He was just above me now. The sun was setting behind him, and the light was so bright I couldn't make out most of his features. "They want you for something else. Something big. They called you 'The Vessel.'"

"I don't know anything about that."

"You said you were important to me," he asked.

I shifted to get back on my feet. He was taller than me, but I could see his eyes more clearly this way, even with the sun behind him. I reached for his right hand. He flinched but allowed me to take it. I pressed it against my chest, where my heart was still pounding.

"You told me that—being with me made you feel comfortable enough to remember yourself," I explained. "And that night—when you told me about falling from the train, you put your hand on my heart, and you said that's how you knew it was real. What was between us. That was the first and last night we spent together, and you kept your hand over my heart most of the night. It was the last thing you did before you left, and they took you again. You promised you'd find me."

He looked away as if I'd finally said something that made sense. He kept his hand over my heart, and I wanted to reach out and hold him again. Gentleness worked before, but he jerked away from me when I moved. He snarled and returned to the house, passing Tony without a glance.

"Bucky, don't go," I said, following him. He headed for the front door and stopped in the foyer. Then he turned to look back at me. His eyes were still dark and cold but not blank.

"They want you for something," he told me. "If I were you—I'd get ready to face them." I shook my head.

"I don't know what they want me for."

"You said I made you a promise."

"Yes, you did."

"Then I'll keep it." He turned back toward the door. "I just want to find out why." He yanked the door open and slammed it behind himself.

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. My heart was still thumping wildly in my chest, and my mind was whirring. I wasn't entirely sure what Bucky meant. I just hoped he was asking questions. Maybe that's why he'd been so quick to save my life. Maybe that's why my cheesy speech seemed to get through to him.

I leaned against the couch, bleeding and bruised and aching all over. But I felt alive again. I didn't want to go back to hiding out on the couch all day on a laptop. I didn't even want to sit at a desk or wait tables. I didn't know what I wanted. Just that it wasn't in Malibu.

"You're bleeding all over my sofa," Tony remarked, breaking me out of my thoughts. I looked down at the cut on my arm.

"It's your fault for buying a house with glass railings," I retorted.

"I see the flaw in that now."

"Will you give me a lift?"

"Where? I kind of left your sister stranded on the side of the road." I pushed away from the couch and wrapped the sleeve of my shirt around the wound.

"Just to the hospital to get this stitched. I can't do it one-handed."

"Good idea. I was afraid you were going to say something stupid. Like you wanted to go after him." I winced from all the new aches and pains as I turned back to him. He'd lifted the mask so I could see his face. I wasn't like Tony. I didn't have a cool suit or a Project Falcon, but I knew someone who did.

"Of course I want to go after him," I said. "But I'm not dumb enough to think I'd succeed right now. So I'll find a way to get him to come to me."

"That's a lot for one person to do, Jo."

"That's why I'm not going to do it alone." I groaned as I shuffled away from him and went to find my phone.

"And they say I'm nuts," he muttered. I found the phone and moved toward the garage.

"Hello?" the person on the other end answered.

"Sam, hi. It's Jo. I have a favor to ask you." I could tell he was smiling.

"Anything you need," he replied.