Battlefield ★ Bucky Barnes

IX. You Can't Run Away Forever

It was finally Connie's day off, and for that she was extremely grateful. Although she absolutely adored her job, she wouldn't deny that sometimes it could be completely and utterly exhausting, not only physically, but emotionally as well. Just as majority of the world's working population felt, some days she needed a break; some days she just needed to herself, and after last night's mission, Connie found that that day for her just so happened to be today.

Connie clicked lazily through the television channels. She didn't have a particular channel or show in mind. In fact, Connie wasn't much of a fan of anything on television anymore unless it was a show or film from the early 1900's. She could tolerate a few of the television shows, such as The Vampire Diaries and Pretty Little Liars solely because of the mystery and action, but she preferred to stay away from most. Despite the fact that she now lived in a very modern world, and despite the fact that she had done a fairly excellent job accommodating herself to this specific time period, a part of her was still trapped in the 1900's, more specifically, 1900's pop culture.

As Connie continued channel surfing, the door to her apartment opened. She figured it was Steve, as he was the only other person who had a key. He also lived there with her in the first place. Most of their coworkers believed the two of them living together was quite strange, but no one understood the reasons behind why they did. Not only were the two of them siblings, information in which not many people were aware of, living together helped the two of them adjust. Before Steve had been found back in 2012, Connie struggled horribly as she tried to adapt to her new life; her only distractions were her numerous missions with Natasha and her strong relationship with Phil Coulson. Now that she had Steve, and now that he had her, the two of them were much more comfortable than they would be had they been without the other.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked her as he entered into the living room.

Connie glanced up at him. "I'm channel surfing."

Steve walked over and removed the remote from her hands, switching the television off before she could even blink. "Get up and do something productive. Sitting in front of that monitor all day isn't gonna do anything to benefit you in life."

"It's not that deep, Steve," Connie said with a roll of her eyes. She didn't even need to ask to know that he was still a bit upset with her due to the previous day's events. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were still angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you," Steve assured her as he sat the remote down on the television stand. "I might be, however, if you don't get up and get your shoes on."

Connie raised a brow. "Why do I need to put my shoes on?"

Steve smirked and tossed her her leather jacket. "Because we're going out."

"I'm not getting up until you elaborate."

"If I tell you, you won't go with me," Steve sighed.

Connie's eyes widened slightly as she was met with realization and she shook her head, throwing her jacket onto the coffee table and sitting back on the couch. "Not a chance."

Steve looked at her with pleading and glistening blue eyes, which he knew she couldn't resist. He remembered using them on her years before the procedure in order to get what he wanted from her, and each time it worked like a charm. Only now it took just a bit more coaxing, but it still worked on her nonetheless, even after so many years.

"Please, Con? You always leave me to go by myself," Steve said to her.

"Then maybe you shouldn't go all the bloody time," Connie muttered. "Are you really that self-centered that you need to visit your own exhibit so periodically?"

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You know exactly why I go so 'periodically.'"

Connie let out a sigh and averted her attention away from Steve. Of course, she knew the reason why Steve visited his exhibit at the Smithsonian so periodically. It was not because he was self-centered—he was far from being self-centered—but it was because sometimes he just needed to reminisce on his past for the sake of comfort. Connie was much different given her service for the Soviet Union subsequent to the 1940's, but Steve had went into the ice in 1945 and came out in 2012 still believing that was where he was. Connie had been given more time away from her past life, whereas Steve had not.

"I'm sorry," Connie breathed out. "But you know exactly why I can't go."

Connie hadn't been to the Smithsonian at all since they had constructed Steve's exhibit. It was nothing against Steve at all, but everything against the amount of emotions she feared would come from stepping foot in the exhibit. She had almost exposed herself to Natasha the previous day, and she knew that if she were to go with Steve her control over her emotions would completely disappear.

"I know, but you can't run away from your feelings forever," Steve told her.

"I can most certainly try."

"Please go with me, Connie," Steve pleaded with her. "Just this one time."

Connie looked at him, though she knew she had made a mistake when she met his eyes. She knew he was doing what he was doing on purpose and she despised it; she despised even more that it was working.

Connie let out a sigh of defeat and got off of the couch, grabbing her jacket from the table as she did so. "You owe me."

"Of course," Steve said with a laugh.

Connie pulled her jacket over her shoulders and put on her boots. "I'm driving," she informed Steve as she grabbed the keys to her black Audi Q7. They weren't technically her car keys, though they were more-so along the lines of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. Connie was such a high-ranking agent that she could be entrusted with a company vehicle of her choice. Steve was given a choice, too, but he preferred his motorcycle.

"I would expect nothing less, Connie Mae," Steve said to her with a smile.

Soon enough they were off.