Riley's Girl

Well-Known

You and Bucky were following Zemo blindly as he strutted ahead of you, to what he called one of his many sanctuarys. Somewhere he said that you'd be safe, but no matter what, you didn't and couldn't ever believe you were truly safe with him. 

"We're here gentlemen. We should be able to stay alive here." Zemo announces. 

You and Bucky remained focused on your steps, both of you were watching your feet, you knew this because you kept glancing at Bucky. His outburst on the plane was out of character for who Bucky was now, and now he had shut himself down. You were worried, more than usual.

"Up here." Zemo instructs as he ascends some stairs to a grand looking set of doors - antique, can see the original colour and finish had been worn down by the weather over time. But it was very Zemo, eccentric. 

What you hadn't realised was Bucky slowing down, looking around, his anxiety building up and taking control of him. Until he finally spoke since leaving the plane. 

"I'm going for a walk." He was assertive, blunt and had a hint of sounding fragile. It only heightened your concern for your... friend. 

Immediately turning to see his face, pale, emotionless, pained, added to your fear "You good man?" you hesitantly question. 

He sighs out his response "Yeah." slowly backing away from you, he utters "I'll see you later", his hands in his pockets and as you looked at his back like you had so many times before, he dips his head crossing the road ahead of the building you headed into with Zemo. 

You took one last worrisome look over your shoulder, giving a small saddened yet understanding smile towards him and closed the door behind you. 

His welfare and mentality at the forefront of your mind. 

-A little while later, Bucky's Perspective-

You'd been wandering the streets for a while, your head becoming less and less foggy, the guilt was still overwhelming you but that had been a state you'd become acquainted to over the past few months since ridding yourself of the Winter Soldier. 

You were working on it, but people like Zemo reminding you of your past more than you already remind yourself did not help. Life was tough enough without a walking, talking irritate aggravating you and pushing you to boundaries you were fighting hard to resist. 

As you raise your head to look into a bar, a familiar face catches your attention. Sat at the bar, throwing tumblers of some kind of alcohol back like they were water. 

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" you whisper to yourself, as you grin to yourself watching them closely. Was it best to go in or leave them be? 

You open the door, instinct kicking in. Inquisitive was always your downfall. Although Sam now calls it being nosey. In this instance, I don't think he'd mind it. 

You make your way over to the stall next to them, wanting to gain any kind of natural opportunity to gain any intel on them as you could to report back. 

"Thank you. Keep 'em coming." you hear them say. They spoke softly, gentle but there was a fire in there, and a sadness you were all too familiar with. 

"Can I get a beer please?" you ask politely, the bartender quickly providing your order. 

You glance next to you and catch them whipping their head away from already watching you. Here's my in. 

"You having a rough day too?" you ask. 

"Rough 6 years, what's your story then?" sighing every word out.

You scoff "Rough lifetime." 

They lightly chuckle, looking at their glass at they run their thumbs over the crystal pattern engraved in it. Before raising it in the air with smile "Here's to it only getting better then." 

You were mid swig when they made this, nearly choking on your beer you chuckle back, mimicking their action and raising your bottle in the air. 

A silence befalls you both, as you both awkwardly sit staring at your drinks, you fiddling with the label on your bottle tactically figuring out your next move. You needed information, no matter the cost. 

"So do you live in town or visiting?" you ask sincerely. 

You were then met with a hearty laugh from them, something which took you aback, you grin at them, confused. "What's funny?" 

"I'm sorry that's rude." they clear their throat, straighten themselves up and turn towards you, facing you full on "Let's quit pretending, shall we?" their head tilts. 

Crap. You carry on your act, furrowing your brows whilst you tightened your grip on your bottle, trying to tame your nerves. 

"Tell Sam, I'm here. I'm alive. I'm now out of the flagsmashers, so he can stop chasing me. I'll handle the Captain myself, just stay out of the way." Y/N looks at you so stern it even puts you on edge. She raises from her seat, sliding her arms into her coat, she effortlessly flicks her hair out of the coat from behind her neck. 

She pauses, gripping the back of the stool, closing her eyes and sighing. As she pulls her bag onto her shoulder, she looks at you in the eyes "Make sure he listens Sergeant. For his sake." she was serious. 

You gulp, nod slightly and she takes that as her leave and sashays out of the bar. You hairs stood on end, your stomach twisted. She knew you, but she knew you as Sergeant, does she know the full extent or is she that considerate? What did she mean by his sake? This is the second warning she's sent Sam now, he needs to listen. But how?

Your entire life seemed to be talking some sense into better men. The irony.