A Different Man

The Knock

Connie sighed, dusting off the framed photo of her man, James. It had been a year since he "died." She didn't think about it often, it hurt too much. The first few months were hell, she couldn't get out of bed. Everyone thought she was overreacting, she had only known James for a short amount of time before he left for war. But that's all it took, she had become infatuated with him. She loved him, and he loved her. They were planning for a lifetime of happiness together, complete with the white picket fence and the golden retriever. They barley moved into their cozy apartment before he had kissed her goodbye. She remembers his words, the way his voice cracked, the moment his eyes watered.

He had said a goodbye, possibly his last goodbye, to her. "Honey, this may be our last kiss," This is the point that his eyes turned red, and she had started shaking her head. "But, I want you to know, I love you. You're my girl, and you will always will be. And if I don't come back, I don't want ya' to dwell, live your life, honey. I'll be right by your side, whether you see me or not." Connie snapped back into reality, feeling her throat tightened. She looked down at her hands, realizing her knuckles had turned white from clutching onto his photo. She put it down, gently, and continued to tidy up.

Since Bucky left, Connie had become a renowned writer and reporter. She had written award nominated pieces about various things. She had shut down factories from reporting the conditions inside of them, and raised awareness about third world countries. She was a small town girl who had become a legend within the news world. But she always felt a nagging emptiness in her heart, in a spot where James had formed, and then left lonely.

"Okay, it's one of those days." Connie had muttered. Every now and then, she would be hit with a fresh wave of hurt, angst, and sadness. She would eventually get over it, but it would come back the next week. Connie picked up some plates and walked into the kitchen. She laid them on the counter, and one by one, scrubbed them profusely. Then there was a knock on the door.

The dish in her hand broke, it shattered from scrubbing too hard when the door was knocked on. "Damn!" She yelled, as she held her bleeding hand. She ran to the bathroom, crossing the door on the way and shouting, "I'll be there in a minute!" No one ever visited her except for her mom, she had isolated herself from her friends. But it couldn't be her mom, her mom was at home, in Florida.

"Is it my James? No it couldn't possibly be. But who else..." She pondered, a feeling of hope came over her as she shoddily wrapped her hand. She looked in the mirror, patting her dress, and fixing her hair. She quickly put on mascara and ran to the door. She didn't bother looking through the peephole. She smiled and opened the door.

It wasn't him.

She felt as though she had been punched in the gut. She frowned at the two ominous men in front of her. They wore sunglasses and suits, a little odd for the weather in that area.

"Um, hello...?" She said, confused.

"Are you Connie Hanks, fiance of James Barnes?" One of the men asked, he had a thick accent and he barley looked her in the eye.

"No, no, no." She thought. She knew what this was, they were here to confirm his death to her. She began to cry, and timidly said, "Yes."

They didn't even try to comfort her.

"You're requested in Germany, under the order of Dr. Zola." The other man spoke.

"What? Who's that?" She asked. "Why?" She was confused.

"No questions, come with us or stay." One said, sternly.

She thought about James, maybe they were bringing her to him. He did "die" in Germany. It was her last shot.

"Okay!" She blurted desperately, and quite naively.

"I'll come with you."