BURNT EDGES ☆ BUCKY BARNES

TWENTY-THREE

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AUGUST 22ND, 2016

IN BETWEEN HER trials, Cynthia found the company of Captain America and his friends to be quite comforting, since Bucky was the person stringing them together.

She had been given a room, closely resembling a real prison cell. Nothing like the one she had with HYDRA. Beck was her escort everywhere, when she wanted to go somewhere, he'd take her there. Only once had she seen Bucky, frozen in that tank.

Her arms were crossed, her lips pursed, every ounce of her wanted him out of there, in the real world with her. But, perhaps, he was with Cynthia in his dreams.

Her third day there she had gotten her ring back, the diamond glued back in messily, which pissed Cynthia off greatly. "What kind of idiot does this?" She asked herself when she was sitting in her temporary cell.

A soft knock came to her door, and Cynthia called out, "Who is it?" In hopes that it could quite possibly be Bucky. But it wasn't. "It's Sam," The voice replied, and Cynthia sighed, replying, "Come in."

Opening the door, and then closing it behind him, Sam held a notebook and pen in his hands. "You know, you people are much nicer than HYDRA ever was." Cynthia said, bringing her knees up to her chest.

"We'll never be like HYDRA. Ever." Sam swore, and then looked over at her. She was so small, and had been through so much. It amazed him that she managed to still have a sense of humor, and manage to be slightly kind to them.

"I was only trying to break Bucky out because . . . Back in the 80s, Bucky promised me to tell me when he was in trouble. And with him going under the ice . . . I was afraid HYDRA had gotten their hands on him again. I had never of thought that . . . That he was with the right people." Cynthia explained. "I didn't mean as much trouble as I caused."

"Yeah, well, that's going to bite you back in the ass at the end. Because now, we've arrested you, and you're awaiting trial for all those murders." Sam clarified, and Cynthia rolled her eyes, replying, "Why does Bucky get off easy, yet I don't?"

"Because you murdered people—"

"So did he!"

"You had a choice." Sam crossed his arms.

"What? My adoptive father's life as the price I paid?" Cynthia snapped. "I saved kids, as a result of me bombing those towns. Not many, but I saved some lives. Bucky . . . Bucky never did."

That was the first time Cynthia had said something so hateful about him, and she hated doing that to him behind his back. "I . . . I hate myself for saying that about him," Cynthia blurted, "But, I can't take it back, can I?"

Ignoring her last comment, Sam handed the journal and pen to Cynthia, and she raised her eyebrows. "What am I doing? Journaling my feelings?"

"Uh . . . Yeah. Thought it would be healthy for you," Sam tried to explain, and Cynthia looked back up at Sam, asking, "Whose idea was this?"

"Mine." Sam replied solemnly. Cynthia sighed, nodding as she bit her lip and inspected the large notebook. She took it into her hands, some of the leather still warm from being in Sam's hands.

"This will be good for my entire prison sentence, won't it?" Cynthia tried to joke, but the sound of the door closing was her only response. Clicking the pen, and laying down on her stomach on the bed, and started writing.

AUGUST 22ND, 2016

DEAR DIARY,

Well. Hello again, diary. I haven't written in one of these in a long time, probably since Jamie was a little kid. God, I remember that town like it was yesterday.

I told Bucky so many months ago that I had never met the Avengers, well . . . That's changed. I tried breaking Bucky out, they caught me, and well . . . Here I am now, going on trial for murders I made over thirty years ago. God, why am I being held accountable for this? That was probably stupid to say . . . Especially being 54. Jesus christ, where has my age gone?

My body hasn't aged a single day, and I'm surprised that my hormones haven't repaired themselves by now. Maybe we burned them so badly that my healing power will never be able to fix it? I'm sure I'll get them fixed one day.

These last few days have been tiring, having to deal with all these stuffy conversations, and asshole guards who don't like me because I'm a murderer. Well, jokes on you, I could beat your ass. I mean, it's been a few years, but I managed to fight off Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff!! I'm so proud—I used all the moves Bucky used to use on me, which worked, surprisingly.

Seeing Beck again, though . . . After all these years, he still looks the exact same, and I suspect HYDRA gave him the healing power as well, or some sort of immortality kind of thing.

I miss Jamie, and Bucky, and Millie, and Maisie, and god dammit, I'm silently cursing myself for trying to go after Bucky. Why did I think it would go successfully?

I need to get these bad thoughts out of my head. I might as well take a nap, since there's really nothing to do around here. I have nothing to read, so I'll have to improvise shit in my head.

- CYNTHIA

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This chapter is dedicated to _russianballerina_ because I love seeing her comments here on this story :-) enjoy, everyone!!

( edited 5/15/18 )