His Saving Grace

The safe house was a large building, surrounded by other large, identical buildings. I wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart, but I suppose that was what Steve and Sam were going for.

Sam pulled up inside the garage and climbed out of the car.

I got out last, looking around. The inside was supposed to be a warehouse, but someone had put up office dividers, making it into a space to live with separate rooms for privacy. It wasn’t anything glamourous, but really, if it was, I wouldn’t have stayed. This looked like the type of place no one would cry over if Hydra decided to blow it up.

“There are beds in those rooms.” Steve pointed out, nodding towards a block of dividers that were partially opened, revealing simple military cots. “Kitchen is through there, and bathrooms are there.” He said, nodding to the spaces respectively. “It’s not much, but Hydra won’t find us here.”

Bucky nodded, running a hand through his tangled brown hair. It was reaching just past his shoulders now. “Want a haircut?” I asked, noticing how he kept pushing it out of his eyes.

He looked to me, surprised and I pulled a face. “Sit down.” I told him, going in search for some scissors. I found some in the kitchen and returned to see Bucky sitting down on a wooden chair. Steve and Sam were talking in one of the office spaces, so I ignored them.

I stood behind Bucky and stared at his head for a moment.
“I’m out of practice, so I’ll just trim it enough that it doesn’t get in your eyes.” I said. He nodded, and I got to work. I trimmed maybe an inch off his hair, so instead of brushing his shoulders, it hung down to his chin. It took a good ten minutes to make sure it was even. “There, all good.” I said, putting the scissors on a nearby table. I brushed the cut hair off Bucky’s shoulders and back before letting him stand.

“Thank you.” He said softly and I smiled.

“Now we are even.” I said and Bucky frowned. “Forget about what happened last night. Please. I just held a pair of very sharp scissors millimeters away from your head, and not a single scratch or cut.”

Bucky pulled a face and shook his head. “That’s not the same, and you know it.” He said, and I shrugged.

“It is to me. A cracked rib is a scratch. A punctured lung is a shallow cut. I heal too quickly for any of that to truly pose any danger to my life. If you lose yourself around me, I will be fine. I am the one person who you shouldn’t ever worry about.” I said softly, eyes flicking towards Steve and Sam. “Though, you nearly told them about me. Think about doing it again, and I swear to God, Bucky, Hydra won’t be your main concern.”

Bucky looked down at me. “I am dangerous. Nothing you say will change that. But they should know. What if they need help? They won’t know to call for you, if you can heal others now.”

“I don’t trust them explicitly yet. If they need medical attention, I will look them over. If they won’t heal on their own, I will step in. But not a second before that. Please, Bucky.” I begged, looking at Steve and Sam, still talking.

“What Hydra did to you… they gave you something that you can use, and do something good with. You can help so many people, give them a second chance. They tried to make you a weapon, instead they made you a miracle. Why don’t you want to share it?” Bucky asked softly, and I knew he wasn’t reprimanding me, just being curious.

I looked over to make sure Steve and Sam were still occupied before speaking. “I… I was always different. Even before Hydra, Bucky. I might be better now, more... enhanced, but I wasn’t normal. And everyone could see that.” I said softly, looking down at my feet. Almost before my eyes, my boots were sandals, smaller and standing on dirt instead of concrete. I could almost hear the laughs and jeers. “The last time I can remember, the children in my neighborhood, they threw stones at me, called me names, and told me that I was a freak. And that was then. Now? I’m even more of a freak. People might not throw rocks at me now. They might use guns and bullets.”

Bucky’s face was filled with pity, and I shook my head. “Don’t pity me, Bucky. It’s nothing compared to what you went through.” I said, walking towards one of the bedrooms. Bucky followed me.

“No, but it was terrible.” He said, standing in the doorway. I gave him a tightlipped smile and sat on the cot. “I remember most of what happened.” He said, looking down at me. “Ever since I met you at that club, I’ve been remembering more and more.”

“About?” I asked softly. I may have just shared a ton more than I thought I ever would, but I didn’t want to push Bucky to do the same.

“Hydra. Their missions. My childhood still hasn’t come back, but nearly everything about the war.” He said, sitting down on a chair that was sitting in the corner. “I remember being on the front lines, being captured. I remember being sick, then being strapped to a table. I remember Zola, a scientist that worked for Hydra. He was the man we were trying to capture on the train…” Bucky drifted off, looking at his hands. His metal fist opened and closed a few times. “He was there, when Hydra found me after the train. Or was it the Russians? The memories are still muddled, they’re not organized in timelines, but by people. I can still feel my arm, when they cut the rest of it off.” He said, staring at his metal arm.

“Bucky?” I asked when he was silent for five minutes, lost in thought. He looked up, surprised.

“It tugs.” He whispered, letting his metal arm go still. “Where the metal meets my shoulder. Sometimes, the skin catches on it. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to come off, but there’s this little give, like when you pull a joint out of place, but it doesn’t hurt.” He continued softly, looking up at me after another moment, eyes lost. “We’re not normal, Grace. But that shouldn’t stop you from doing something when it’s right. Take it from someone who has been doing the opposite for the majority of his life. By doing nothing, you’re not doing anything any good.”

Bucky was quiet the entire night, more than normal, and both Steve and Sam noticed. They sent me questioning looks and tried to get me to talk to them, but I wouldn’t. What Bucky had told me was private, and they’d never get it out of me unless he told them himself.

After dinner I called it an early night, retreating to the area I had claimed as my own. I slid the dividing curtain around and changed, leaving it closed as I laid down on the cot. It was a lot more comfortable than most surfaces that I had slept on in the past, so I drifted off to sleep quickly.

I woke up when I heard the commotion. I sat up and looked around, sliding off the cot and pulling on my boots, just in case we needed to run. I slipped out from behind the curtain and followed the noise, sticking to the walls and shadows.

What I saw surprised me, but it probably shouldn’t have.

Bucky was awake, abusing the hell out of a punching bag, sweat dripping down his face, entirely focused on beating the bag until it split. Steve was holding it still for him, and he looked strained from the activity. Sam was sitting on the sidelines, a steaming mug of what I assumed was coffee in his hand.

They were talking about better ways of combat, the ground, the air or on the back of a vehicle. From the sounds of it, Sam was adamant that the advantage from the air was insurmountable, until Bucky mentioned the heli-carrier. Then talk moved onto retreat, and Steve shot Sam down when he started on the aerial advantage, by bringing up the heli-carrier again. It made me wonder exactly what went on that day.

The friendly banter went on without them noticing me, and I smiled slightly. It seemed they were getting along a lot better. Two days with Steve and Bucky was looking more and more like a regular soldier, instead of a brainwashed assassin.

Deciding to leave them be, I turned, heading back towards my room silently. I got to it without any of them seeing me and got back into bed. I stared at the ceiling for a while, relishing in the peace and relative quiet.

I felt relaxed, like this place was well and truly safe. Maybe it was.

Despite its simple and efficient interior, or maybe because of, I liked it, a lot. It was set up like a maze, and sure, someone could fire a gun at the wall above my head and probably hit someone on the other side of the building still, but the feel of the place put me at ease, more than any of my apartments, safe houses or hideaways ever had.