Reaching Out | Bucky Barnes

10 | Thursday, June 10th

The next week is full of meetings with S.H.I.E.L.D., interviews, planning, and a whole lot of chastising. They're pissed we moved in without their knowledge, and worse that Hydra knows we know and evacuated. The team has stood by their decision though—without us going in, we wouldn't know about the second branch of the research facility, and we wouldn't have information about the experiments.

It's not much, it's something.

Although they still don't know that I went on the mission. I excused the bruising on my neck as a sparring accident, which Fury seemed to accept without suspicion. It doesn't hurt that I throw on a fluffy sweater every time they arrive on the doorstep, covering most of the marks and blaming the A/C for making me cold. Thankfully, my neck and back really don't hurt anymore, so while I'm not doing any hand to hand yet, I've been running again, remembering why I enjoyed it so much.

And rather than being stuck on a treadmill, I've taken to running outside, giving me space from the Compound I hadn't realized I needed. I've gotten so used to being alone that the constant anticipation of running into someone or being around them is tiring.

I take a deep breath as I look across the dark lake to the Compound, which from here, doesn't look nearly as hectic as it is.

The calmness is a nice change, and I shut my eyes, listening to the birds and small animals scurrying through the underbrush.

It reminds me of camping.

Of being tucked into my red canvas folding chair with a thick blanket to keep out the morning chill. Of sleepily watching my parents making breakfast from across the fire. I can almost smell the fresh coffee, roasting potatoes, and bacon that would without a doubt, be cooking.

As I open my eyes they burn; not from fire's smoke, but from not seeing my parent's tired eyes over tin mugs.

No, I'm standing alone at the edge of a lake across from a mansion built by a man who would likely rather die than sit in a camping chair.

I miss the simple life I had with my parents.

I miss my parents.

For the first time since I arrived, I wonder how long I'm supposed to stay here.

A month?

A year?

I was never told. Fury just ordered me to come with him; I don't know what this arrangement is.

Am I on a probationary period?

How long until they don't think I'm a threat?

Will I ever be allowed to leave?

I shake my head and turn around.

They can't make me stay.

I'll stay until I decide to leave.

With that settled, I begin my trek to the compound.

When I get back the sun has risen, and I walk into the kitchen to find Steve drinking a smoothie and reading a newspaper.

"Morning," I smile, reaching into the fridge for a Greek yogurt.

"Go for another run?" he asks, placing the paper down.

"Mhmm. It feels good to get back into it. It's been a while," I smile, leaning on the island and opening my yogurt.

"Why did you stop?"

"I kinda put my life on pause after my parents died... I had to deal with the funeral, selling their stuff and their house, I just didn't have the time or energy for anything else. Dropped out of my master's program, stopped working for the university, stopped running. Stopped everything I guess," I explain.