Buried Knives (A Bucky Barnes enemies to lovers story)

Part 6: True Beginning

Off-grid

The word kept playing over in her head. Drowning out the hustle of passengers boarding and cabin crew bustling by. 

No contact, from here on out. To keep them in the dark. To keep the mission a secret. To keep you safe.

James was busying himself with their meagre luggage overhead. She highly doubted any of this had been his plan. He just seemed frustrated and grumpy. That made two of them. Keeping to their own blissful silences was preferable. 

After she had agreed to this whole charade Sam briskly laid out the details of their mission. 

There was a branch of Hydra working underground in central Europe. Their task; figure out their plan and stop them before it was too late. But somehow, what seemed to be a simple enough one-man task escalated to involve her, a Hydra convict, going off-grid and undercover alone with a giant, brooding, soldier-assassin-big muscled man. 

She sighed. Resting her head back and looking out the small, pill-shaped aeroplane window. 

Is this freedom yet?

She had barely had time to clean herself up. Dried blood still itched under the collar of the sweet-smelling, navy sweater she'd acquired somewhere along the way. The collar hid the tranquillizer patch that was still firmly stuck to her neck and other concerning stains. Her greasy hair was now pulled up into a ponytail and tucked under a black cap. The brim shielding her bruised face from curious onlookers. 

Freedom smelt commercial and musky and cheap. Like fake leather.

A black van had dumped Barnes and herself off at the front doors of the terminal. Armed with two tickets to Milan and a suitcase each. What they had put in hers she had no clue. Barnes had promptly seized control of all their belongings, leaving her trailing behind like a lost puppy.

She gritted her teeth at the memory. She hated playing the beta. 

As if summoned, James dropped into his seat beside her.

His jean clad knees were forced into the seat in front of him and his shoulders were barely contained in the parameters of his seat. 

She couldn't help but smirk at his obvious discomfort. 

She was wearing mostly the same  grimy, bloodstained outfit as before, bar the sweater. Barnes had given up his dark, fight ready attire for a more unassuming get up. Baseball cap, bomber jacket and a t-shirt. 

The cap fell further down his face as he slouched in the chair, arms folded. 

They made an odd mirror image. Big and smaller, dark haired and light haired. Both miserable.

Around them the plane was filling up. All people eager to get away. To begin adventures. She felt numb, miles away from all of them. 

What was she supposed to feel? Excitement? Sadness? It was unclear where she was supposed to go from here. She had forsaken them. Hydra. The only constant in her life. 

The flight attendant shut the door with a dull hiss. 

Barnes looked at her. "Fasten your seatbelt," he grumbled. 

She looked down at the jumble of fabric and metal in her lap. Unwilling to admit she had no idea how. One thing Hydra deemed unnecessary for her to remember was the complexity of airplane seatbelts. 

"Why?" she drawled looking at him.

"Because-" he trailed off into an incoherent grumble, grabbing the mess he bent over her slightly to click the belt in place.