Stop, Breathe, Count to Three

It seemed that these days Steve had a perpetual frown on his face, Sam thought. They were both still sore from the battle that had happened two weeks prior, Sam more than Steve even though the Captain had taken the more serious wounds. With the exception of some scratches on his face, a fading scar on his abdomen, and a couple tender bones, the super soldier was, for the most part, physically fine.

His brows were drawn together as he frowned at the wooden table top. He was worried about Bucky. Had his friend returned to HYDRA? Was he wondering the streets, lost and alone? Was he hurt? Was he even alive? No, Steve thought, he’s alive. He doesn’t die that easily.

They had come out to New York looking for Bucky. Natasha had sent them a lead (and a name of a woman to be Steve’s possible future girlfriend) via an untraceable source. He didn’t know how the Black Widow had done it since she wasn’t even in America, but he trusted her enough to go upstate. Maybe he’s headed for Brooklyn. Going back to his roots.

“Steve,” Sam started, making the man look at him, “don’t worry, we’ll find him. I’m sure he’s fine anyway; that guy is tougher than nails.”

Steve exhaled a little in relief from the reassurance. Sam seemed to be able to read his mind.

“The problem though,” Sam continued, “is what happens after you find him. His programming from his mission might kick in and he may try to kill you again. I know plenty of vets with PTSD, and he’s gotta have it bad. It’ll be a hell of a recovery.”

“I know,” Steve said, nodding mostly to himself, “but whatever it takes. Bucky took care of me and I want to return the favor. And it doesn’t matter how HYDRA agents…” He trailed off as the waitress approached.

She was in her mid-twenties, if Steve had to guess. Her smile was bright and the contrast of her darker complexion made her teeth seem even whiter. Despite her perky stance of someone working for tips, there was a nervousness in her hazel eyes. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he was immediately suspicious of her. No one noticed the faces of customer service workers, not really. It was the perfect position for a spy.

“Hello,” she greeted them. “My name is Bo and I’ll be your server today.” She handed them menus and napkins with utensils rolled up inside. Her hands slightly shook. “What can I get you to drink?”

After they both ordered water, she left to fetch them their drinks and give them time to decide what they wanted to eat. Steve looked at Sam, wondering if he had noticed the odd behavior of their waitress. The Falcon was too busy looking at the menu, however.

“Sam,” he said in a low voice, making the other look up in bemusement.

“What?”

His eyes flickered around to see if anyone was listening in. “Did you notice the waitress?”

“Uh, yeah. You know, this is a bad time to pick up a date.”

“I wasn’t-”

“And you should probably tell Natasha. Maybe then she’ll lay off.”

“No,” Steve cut him off. “I mean that she was acting strange. As if she was nervous.”

Sam shrugged. “So? Maybe she recognized you but didn’t want to make a scene.”

“Maybe,” Steve mumbled, looking around. He noticed a man in the corner with a baseball cap pulled over in face in a similar fashion that Steve had his and his dark brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. He had a black leather jacket on with a gray shirt underneath and dark wash jeans. What was strange though was that he had on black gloves despite the warm temperature outside and the cool air conditioning of the restaurant. Steve could see the scruffy beard along a strong, square jaw and weak chin. That couldn’t be…

Bo the waitress jumped in front of his view, holding their drinks on a black, circular tray. He blinked at her, a little startled. She put the glasses on the table, then pulled out a notebook from the pocket of her apron and flipped it open, pen ready. “Are you ready to order?”

Sam asked for a burger with the works and fries. Steve hesitated, never having gotten the chance to look over the menu. “Make it a double,” he said, copying Sam’s order. She nodded and smiled, scribbling on her notebook. He studied her carefully, his intense gaze making her look up at him. Suddenly, a feeling of calm washed over him and he didn’t even bother to wonder why he was worried in the first place.

When she left, Sam asked, “Are you sure she’s sketchy? She seems fine to me.”

“Sketchy?”

“Uh, suspicious.”

Steve casually shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure it was nothing.”

“You sure?” he asked, wondering where the mood swing came from.

“Yeah, it’s whatever.”

Sam was confused with how relaxed Steve had suddenly gotten and his use of a more modern phrase. One minute he’s stressing over his friend and paranoid about the waitress, then he’s seemingly carefree. “Oookaaay,” he said, stretching out the vowels.

Meanwhile, Bo was panicking and she tried to calm herself because it would freak James out. She put the order in to the chef and headed to James so they could discuss the situation in whispers. He didn’t look at her when she approached, but he was aware of her presence.

“James,” she whispered to him.

“I know,” he replied, his voice tense.

“What do we do?”

He didn’t answer, only glared a hole into his glass of water. Kill him, the brainwashed part of his mind whispered. Kill Captain America; he’s your mission.

No, he mentally answered himself.

You do not fail the mission. Your duty is to serve HYDRA. You are a weapon, a soldier; it is your purpose.

No, he repeated. Bo would never forgive me.

And just like that, the voice shut up. Even it could not deny Bo’s importance and they both feared her rejection.

“James,” she whimpered this time.

The fear in her voice and the red in her startled him. She was afraid, but Captain America would never hurt her, she was an innocent civilian. But he could hurt me, and that’s what she’s afraid of, he realized. It tore at his heart and he felt an aching feeling in his chest at the thought of Bo caring about him because of more than just the bond.

“He doesn’t want to hurt me. He refused to fight me last time,” he reassured her.

She studied him and the bond closely, looking for deception. Finding none, she asked, “Why?”

“Because he, he said he was my…” He paused and his mouth twisted. “...friend.”

“James,” Bo whispered, leaning in closer, “do you think that he wants to help you?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he does then maybe we should-”

“No,” he growled, making them both grimace, him in guilt and her from the sharp, emotional pain in her chest. He sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, finding apologizing to her to be easier than before.

She swallowed thickly and tried to think logically rather than emotionally, something that wasn’t normal for her. Or maybe emotions were the key to this. Steve was apparently James’s friend and possibly wanted to help him. That’s what friends do, anyway. Bo was bonded to James and studying psychology, so in a way she was his best option for recovery. But that didn’t mean she could do it on her own. Besides, Captain America could surely provide them protection.

So if she were to recruit Steve to the James Rehabilitation Front, how could she go about it without causing a scene? She couldn’t just march up there and tell them everything. Maybe she could do that in private. But would James even go for any of this?

“James,” she said, but he continued to glare at the cup on the table. “James,” she said more firmly, making him look up, “I think we should get Steve’s help.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “We don’t have much of a choice. We need help and I have the suspicion that’s he’s looking for you anyway. You can’t just hide away in the apartment forever, James. That’s not fair to Lauren and that’s not fair to me.”

He shut his mouth at that. She was bathed in red and orange, but it wasn’t sexual attraction that she felt; it was passion mixed with determination. He couldn’t help but think that it made her glow beautifully. I could easily love her, he thought.

She was still waiting for his response, so he nodded and said, “This is what you’re gonna do…”

***

It was Sam that noticed the slip of paper returned to Steve with the check and his card. “Phone number?” he asked, pointing to it.

Steve shrugged shyly; he was just getting used to how open women of this time were and how it wasn’t set in stone for men to be the ones to initiate a relationship. What was still foreign to him was the fact that he was considered attractive to people. Plenty of women and a few men had openly hit on him. It always caused his cheeks to warm in the case of pretty dames, but the men just made him sputter. The reactions were always different; some women practically cooed at the color in his face, while others rolled their eyes at his shyness and lost interest. The men usually laughed at his expense and waved off the whole ordeal, understanding that he didn’t play for that team.

Steve would have only spared a glance at the number before tossing it since this was not a time in his life for dates, but the letters rather than numbers made him stop. The handwriting fell into a blurred line between print and cursive.

Cap Rodgers,
back kitchen after closing
use employees only door
about Winter Soldier

His face was white as a sheet, making Sam ask if he was alright. After being handed the paper and reading it himself, Sam cursed under his breath. “I guess you were right about the waitress.” Steve solemnly nodded and Sam asked, “Are we going?”
Steve let out a deep breath and replied, “What choice do we have?”

***

It was just past midnight by the time all the employees had gone home. They were prepared to pick the lock, but found it already unlocked. Each had a gun cradled in his hands as they swept the dark room. It was empty with the exception of Bo the waitress whom was sitting on top of a steel counter near the walk in freezer. Her feet dangled off the ground, allowing her to kick them a bit like a bored child. The palms of her hands lay flat on the edge of the countertop as she looked at them with a blank expression.

“Put those away,” she said about the guns. “There’s no need for them; I’m unarmed.”

“Who do you work for?” Steve asked the stereotypical question while completely ignored her past words.

“Not HYDRA, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Normally he would think she was lying since she was the one to bring them up, but there was something that made him believe her. She leaned back a bit and studied them. “Since I’m the one that called this meeting and reached out to you, I think I should be asking the questions.” He opened his mouth, but she fired away. “Are you looking for the Winter Soldier?”

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Why are you interested?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Why are you looking for him and what are your intentions?” At his silence, she said, “I have reason to believe that you know him. Personally. Lovers, perhaps?”

The idea was startling and left him floundering for a moment. The smug look on Bo’s face let him know she was only messing with him. But it was curious as how she knew that Bucky and him knew each other personally. There was a part of him that wanted to confess to her, to make her trust him, to rely on her. “I want to help him,” he finally said.

“You do?” she asked with raised eyebrows. They dropped and a smile split her face. “Well! Why didn’t you say so?”
On cue, the freezer door creaked open, clouded mist from the warm air meeting cold air spilled out. The man emerged from the fog and Steve instantly recognized him as the man in the restaurant and his suspicions were confirmed. Bucky!

His body jerked forward, but Sam’s hand on his shoulder and the shake of Bo’s head stopped him. “Hold on, Cap,” she said, “that isn’t a good idea. I know you’re happy to see him, but there are some things that need to be discussed before there is any chance of a happy reunion.”

Bo and James looked at each other and he felt her mentally brush against him with an unspoken question in mind. He nodded to reassure her that he was fine and in control of himself. Steve watched them and wondered what exactly was between them.

Then Bo explained everything. She told them about her mutation, how she found James, and about the bond they shared. She had a similar problem when talking to Lauren when it came to describing the bond. It was something that was impossible to truly understand unless you were part taking in it. It was also something that was intimate, but she left that part out. James stayed silent while she talked, lingering by her side. She could feel his weariness as he studied Steve and Sam, wondering if they were threats to the bond.

Steve sighed and ran his hands over his face, taking in all the information she had just given them. As he tried to process everything, Bo leaned over to James and whispered, “Did I do good? With the whole pretending I’m part of the intelligence community or whatever thing?” He resisted the urge to smile and nodded. She grinned widely, her yellow elation and blue confidence coating his tongue.

“I’d like to talk to Bucky,” Steve said, interrupting their moment. “Sam, would you mind taking Ms. Jordan home?”

“No,” James growled, speaking for the first time.

“Bucky,” Steve started.

“No,” James repeated.

Bo rolled her eyes, knowing this game. “Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, “I’ll be fine, okay? You should talk to him, James. He’s the one that can tell you about your past. And yes,” she said to the look he was giving her, “I know that you’re trying to find out about it. You can’t hide anything from me.” She hopped down from the steel counter and smiled at him. “Like I said, I’ll be fine. It’s late anyway and I’m tired.” She yawned for show and said to Sam, “Lead the way.”

There wasn’t any conversation between them until he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. A dull ache slowly started to grown in Bo’s belly.

“He hasn’t,” Sam paused, trying to find the right words, “hurt you, has he?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Look, I get you have some special connection to the guy, but you’ve only known him for two days. I haven’t known him much longer, but I’ve fought him and I know what he’s capable of.”

“Sam,” she said, “I haven’t seen the Winter Soldier part of him, but I know everything he’s feeling. Like right now, he’s agitated and upset. I’m also trying to calm him down. James couldn’t hurt me even if he wanted to.”

He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that when I get hurt, he feels it and vice versa.”

“So if he hurts you, he’ll be hurting himself,” he concluded.

“Exactly.”

As they drove, the pain in her gut became more than she could bare. The distance between her and James was killing her, it felt like. At the halfway point between her work and home was when James entered the scene, pulling off the door and carrying out a weak Bo. He ran to her apartment with her in his arms. He threw open the door and Lauren looked at them wide-eyed from the couch.

“Where have you two been?! What’s going on?!”

He ignored her, marching into Bo’s bedroom. He deposited her on the bed and she watched him push the dresser across the room, rattling Arthur’s cage, and putting in front of the door so no one could enter. He peered out the window, watching, waiting. Deeming there to be no spies, he checked the latch and it’s strength. He closed the blinds and checked over the bathroom. He searched everything, making sure there were no bugs, hidden cameras, etc.

Everyone had their own aura, their own emotional signature. James was the easiest to identify because of their bond. But now it had changed and part of him felt blank, as if multiple puzzle pieces had gone missing. It scared her.

When he was finally done with his mission, he stopped. He didn’t know what to do next. Bo slowly crawled out of bed and approached him. He then started to check her over, making sure she wasn’t injured. “I’m okay,” she told him, but didn’t fight him off. His fingers ran through her hair, looking for any knots or cuts. He peered into her eyes and looked for any sign of head damage. He nodded when she passed his test. They were extremely close and he could smell the strawberries that seemed to always cling to her. He inhaled deeply, basking in the relief that she was fine and they were together.

Plush, pink lips crashed into her own. The kiss was not lustful, nor heated, nor even necessarily loving; it was desparate. He wanted to feel something from her, affection of any kind and reassurance that they would be fine, that they would be safe. He wanted her to promise him that she would stay with him and she wouldn’t leave again. His beard scratched her face and his fingers tangled in her hair, both metal and flesh. She did not reciprocate or reject him, but kept her hands by her sides as his lips massaged her own, trying to get something out of her.

He finally pulled back to breathe, but whispered to her as he pecked her face, touching her lips, the corners of her mouth, her chin, her cheeks. “Bo, please,” he begged between quick kisses. He murmured in Russian, but nothing came from her.

After a minute of his desperation, she sighed and turned her head away, making his lips catch the curve of her jaw. “James, stop,” she softly ordered.

He obeyed and switched to trailing the tip of his nose along the side of her neck and into her hair. “I’m not James.”

Bo reached up and pulled the metal hand from her hair and held it. “Then who are you?”

“The Winter Soldier,” he whispered.