LEGACY: a bucky barnes story

Chapter 25 - Unearth

Author's Note – Bucky refers to Jennifer as 'JJ' or 'Jaige' (pronounced j-ay-j or ʤeɪʤ for my IPA friends) it's a more personal shorthand of JJ. Think of how Jennifer Jareau is referred to in the BAU by Spencer and everyone.

...

We arrived at Havana Port in the early hours a day and a half later. We slept in the car along the docks, careful to avoid dock workers. Once we snuck onto a barge, we spent half the day swaying to the rhythm of the Florida Straits. I only threw up once, but Bucky took as good care of me as he could while hidden within the shipping containers. When we docked, we waited until nightfall to leave the boat.

"I'd kill for some Pedialyte right about now," I whined.

"What is that?"

"Pedialyte? The stuff they give kids to... 'replenish' their... fluids?"

The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes widened. His dumbfounded reaction made me chuckle.

"It's an electrolyte drink, to help replace what you throw up when you puke."

"Oh—could we find some here for you?"

"Oh, no, Bucky it's okay. I'm just whining—I'll be fine."

"If you see it somewhere, let me know. I'll get it for you."

"That's kind of you, but—if it's all the same to you—I'd rather not add shoplifting to my rap sheet."

"Mmm," Bucky grunted.

"But—I think our U.S. dollars could stretch pretty far in pesos."

We wandered the whole night. By the next morning, we found a bank to exchange the few dollars we had left for Cuban pesos.

Outside the city center, Bucky led us toward a dive building just outside El Cerro. As he slowed his pace, I hoped the crusty, graffitied building we approached wasn't the safehouse. As he made his way inside, I caught glance of a small Hydra insignia. The crumbling walls showed their age with grime and stains I prayed weren't blood. A bit crude, but I'm not in any place to be fussy—all I could do was hope for four walls and a place to rest, letting the last few days sink in.

...

I craned my neck off the concrete floor. Wincing in a full body stretch, I brushed off the dust and dirt from my clothes. I jumped when I noticed Bucky sitting upright across the room, staring straight at me.

"Jesus, Buck." I clutched my heart. "That's one way to say 'good morning'." Letting out a yawn, the growl of my stomach sounded off. "Bucky, have you eaten today?"

"Emergency food boxes in the back. Been there awhile; it's meant to last decades. It's not great, but it's sustenance."

He slid a box toward me with his foot. I reached inside to pull out dried fruit and a bottle of water. Between mouthfuls, I asked, "Is there paper or anything here? I have this idea, to help with your memories."

Bucky mumbled and stood. He walked down a corridor, disappearing into darkness. I heard distant shuffling and the grunts of moving heavy objects. I opened a package of crackers, popping one in my mouth.

"Mm, it's dry. It's really dry," I muttered to myself. I reached in the supply box to find a small jar of peanut butter. I dipped stale crackers in the jar as Bucky reentered carrying two file boxes. Setting them in front of me, he took a few paces backwards.

After washing my PB and crackers down with water, I scooted toward the first box. Books and journals filled its capacity; I removed only the journals, scanning them briefly to set aside those with mostly blank pages. After I stacked close to twelve journals, Bucky's curiosity won over.

"What are these for?"

"For you to write in. You'll write down anything and everything you can remember. The more you write, the more memories will resurface. And you'll have to write everything—the good and the bad. It's... you'll have to trust me."

Bucky looked toward the stack then back at me. He smirked then nodded hesitantly.

"I trust you, JJ," he spoke softly. "But, please don't read them."

My eyes widened. "I wouldn't dare. These are your private journals. I'll be around if you need me, though."

I could swear his eyes softened as his tongue grazed his lower lip, followed by a gentle tug of his teeth. For a moment, we didn't move or speak. He broke the encounter with a sheepish grin.

"Can I start now?"

"Oh—yes, sure," I blushed, then cleared my throat. "I think I'm going to try to figure out what we're gonna do for food next. I don't want to eat more stale crackers." I grinned slyly. "You know, there's just something about you calling me JJ."

His cheeks became rosy. "What's that?"

"Only people close to me call me JJ—or Jaige."

He pondered this a moment. "That time you called me James... I liked how it sounded... from you."

"James, huh?" I beamed. "Well, James, I'll leave you to it, then."

I wandered off, hopefully hiding my reddening face and the swirling butterflies that followed.