Reaching Out | Bucky Barnes

3 | Thursday, May 27th

Bucky and I stayed at the mall for hours yesterday, learning little facts about each other and window shopping. He told me if I wanted something he would buy it—so I eventually caved and had him buy me snacks. He didn't say anything until I put back the third pair of shoes I tried on and proceeded to ask if there was a pretzel stand anywhere. He just shook his head and guided me to an Auntie Annes, muttering that he should have brought me to a grocery store instead.

He probably should have.

This morning I'm lying on my bed thinking about what to do, because I could put on a movie, but I've been itching to check out the gym since Wanda toured me around the first day.

Do it.

I change into some workout gear and head out of my room, walking through the shiny halls and looking for evidence of life. Everything here is so impersonal, like the fact that this place is a 'Compound,' not home. That a conference table is steps from the kitchen. I understand that threats happen quick, but I wonder how anyone got comfortable living here.

I reach the first floor and walk through the tinted glass hallway that leads to the gym, seeing that it's empty.

Thank God.

Unless I'm being trained, I hate working out with other people. I pull open the door and slip in, letting the smell of disinfectant and rubber surround me. I look down the long room, eyes bouncing from one machine to the next. There's a sparring square in the middle of the space, rows of punching bags and wing chun dummies on the far side of the room, and weight racks lining the wall. I wander around, finally gravitating towards a treadmill.

It's been a while.

I step on and start up the machine, walking for fifteen minutes before increasing the speed to a run, wanting to see what I can do after six months. I watch the numbers on the screen rise, and after 15 miles, I slow my pace to a walk and glance at the timer.

50 minutes.

Definitely not bad.

Turns out that whatever gave me my powers also increased some of my physical abilities. Not much on the side of strength, but my endurance and speed are top notch.

Unfortunately, despite my begging, my parents never let me join track; they didn't want to risk bringing attention to the teenage girl who could run faster than Olympians, not to mention the ethics behind it. So, I ran alone or at the gym, testing my strength. My junior year of college was my best time at 23 miles in 33 minutes, but I calmed down with training after that, focused on schoolwork, and ran for enjoyment rather than to see how fast I could go.

"Don't let Cap catch you going those speeds, he'll get intimidated," a voice says from behind me.

My nerves jolt and I step to the sides of the treadmill so I can look behind me. I find Sam standing with his arms crossed and an impressed smile on his face.

"Oh, trust me, I'm nowhere near in shape enough to race him," I pant a laugh, stepping back on to cool off.

"The fact that you're that fast out of shape says something," he chuckles, appearing beside me.

"It's part of the package. Can't have the matter manipulation without speed."

"What else do you got? I'm assuming you can fly and turn invisible too?" he teases.

"Actually..."

"Don't tell me..."

"I can't literally fly, but I can manipulate something to carry me or use air to lift myself. And I can't turn invisible, but I can use water and air to create an illusion that I am."