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AUGUST 16TH, 2017
THE LETTERS CYNTHIA had been sending to her half-sister had yet to receive a response.
Cynthia had been making copies of her history with Bucky, and sending them to Sasha to prove that Bucky had come a long way, and that he was no longer working with HYDRA—he was free from them, if anything else.
"Writing another letter?" Bucky asked, and Cynthia nodded, sitting at the table in their apartment. She had chosen to ask Steve for Sasha's foster address, which he thankfully obliged and gave her—otherwise, Cynthia wasn't sure what she'd do. Maisie lived in the same apartment building as Jamie and Rylee; Millie living in an apartment across the city with her fiancée.
"Yes, and I want you to write in this one, as well," Cynthia looked up, locking eye contact with her boyfriend. A few days before, Cynthia finally revealed to him that she remembered everything, and had only held off on telling Bucky in fear he didn't love her like that anymore.
"Do you think she'll even keep the letter if I write in it?" Bucky asked, coming over and sitting down at the table, beside Cynthia. "Well, this one will include the time we all went to London. And, at that time, you were extremely gentle with Jamie and Maisie." Cynthia explained, looking over at him. She slid the paper over to him, then handed him the pen.
She put her fist under her chin, giving Bucky a loving smile before looking back at the copies of pictures she had lying out on the table. Every few days since getting back from their failed attempt at a weekend getaway, Cynthia had been writing letters to Sasha, always hoping for a response.
But she had yet to receive one.
"Oh, before I forget," Bucky said, looking up from the page of paper, "I invited Maisie over for dinner tonight. She might come over earlier though, because she texted me saying that the girl she started seeing decided to leave her."
"Again? Jeez, some people just don't know that someone great is standing in front of them," Cynthia shook her head, before going back to her pictures. She had been fading her hair lately, but brown was harder to get out than she thought. "Stuck in your thoughts again?" Bucky asked, his eyes on the paper in front of him. Half of it was filled with writing about his past, before he was the Winter Soldier, and was just beginning to explain when he was kidnapped during the war.
"Always," Cynthia responded, when a knock came to their door. "I'll get it." Cynthia rubbed Bucky's shoulder reassuringly, and got up from her chair, cutting through the apartment and towards the door. Opening it, and grinning at Maisie, who was holding her purse, she waved, smiling as she said, "Hey, auntie."
"You don't have to knock, you know this by now," Cynthia said, hugging her, and bringing her inside. Closing the door behind them, Cynthia gave Maisie a confused look, and Maisie blurted, "I think I'm being followed. By someone, of the sorts."
Bucky got up from his seat, the wood legs groaning against the tiled flooring. "Do you know by who?" Cynthia asked seriously, and Maisie shook her head.
"It started a few days ago, and at first it was just one person, a girl, with brown hair and tan skin, and then she was joined by more people as time went on," Maisie explained, and Cynthia wrapped her arm around Maisie, bringing her over to the couch, saying, "Until they go away, you'll be staying with us."
"But what if I'm going crazy?" Maisie cried, paranoid thoughts racing through her mind. She placed her hands on the side of her face, and rubbed it. "What if they're just in my head?"
"You're not going crazy, Maisie, I can assure you that," Bucky reassured her, and Maisie gave him an exasperated look. "But what if I am?" She replied, her voice breaking.
"You're not insane, trust me, I'd know if you were," Cynthia assured her, putting her hands on Maisie's shoulders and sitting on the couch next to her. "My father was insane, and you could just . . . See it in his eyes. And it wasn't from the military, he was from a very bad childhood . . . And it must have stemmed from that, and that truly messed him up."
Maisie looked up at Cynthia with tear stained cheeks, and bleary eyes. "I don't want to die," She cried, and Bucky softly said, "I won't let that happen. You're like my daughter, Maisie. And I would let myself die if it meant keeping you safe."
Hearing Bucky say that broke Cynthia's heart. She was glad he loved the kids as much as she did— equally, ready to die if it meant promised safety for them, always. So Cynthia held Maisie in her arms for a while—let her get her cries out.
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After Maisie had tucked herself into the bed in the guest bedroom, Cynthia had sat in the darkness of her closet and cried.
Cried, for Maisie's paranoia, for the fear of her daughter, for the fear that Jamie might be experiencing the same thing.
Interrupting her thoughts and cries, the door to the closet swung open, and Cynthia took a deep, hiccupped breathe as she looked over, seeing Bucky's shadow cast over her. "Cynthia?" Bucky took a step closer to her, which resulted in Cynthia crying again. "I called Jamie, asked if he was going through the same thing, and he said he wasn't. So they're fine." Bucky explained, coming over and sitting next to her.
"If she gets taken by these people . . . I feel so helpless, Bucky, what if we can't stop them? How are we supposed to get her back?" Cynthia cried out, and Bucky wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to him.
"If she's taken, then we'll get her back. How many times have you been rescued? You got me back. Millie won't stop looking for her either, you know that," Bucky assured her, trying to assure the both of them. "She probably didn't want to stress her mother out with this, especially with their wedding finally coming up soon."
Cynthia nodded into his shoulder, tears staining his red shirt, and sniffled. "We'll be strong for her, Bucky. We'll protect her."
Protecting her was part of Cynthia's job—and it was one she was best at.
