Positive Regard

Chapter Five

I didn't know what happened, but when I opened my eyes, I was on a bed. A really soft, comfortable bed that wasn't mine. I heard Steve's voice, in another room, maybe.
"No. Nobody talks to her but me." He was saying.
"You have bigger fish to fry, Captain." A new voice said. "Let me."
"No. I don't care. I'm doing it. I got her into this. I'm talking to her."
Another new voice told Steve that I was waking up. I heard a door open.
My eyes were heavy, but I opened them anyways. Steve was standing at the foot of the bed. I looked around the room, but it didn't look familiar.
"Steve—Bucky?" I said quickly.
"That's complicated." He said with a smile.
"Where am I?"
"Also complicated."
"What happened?"
"Even more complicated. How do you feel?"
"Fine. Where am I?"
"New York."
"Shocker." I snapped.
He laughed. "Just wait. Your day'll be full of those."
"Where am I?"
"The twenty first century."
I laughed. "Yeah, you're hilarious. What's going on?"
"You're in the twenty-first century." He sat down on the edge of my bed. "I'm not kidding. There's been a black president and the Korean Peninsula divided and the northern part's communist, and Vietnam tried too."
A black man with an eye patch walked in. "That's quite enough, Captain. I told you—"
"Who the hell are you?" I asked, sitting up quickly.
Steve grinned. "You can cuss in public now, too. I know you could technically do it back in the forties too, but now it's even more socially acceptable.
"What's the date?"
"May 8, 2016."
"You're shitting me, Rogers."
He pointed at the black man. "This guy's my boss."
This was absolutely insane. I wasn't a genius, but I knew that that wasn't how things worked.
"Oh my goodness, how old am I?" My eyes widened.
"I don't know. Ninety something, I guess. But relax—relax. You still look twenty-three. Can I have a mirror?"
The black man handed Steve a small rectangular thing. After a second, Steve turned it around and I saw myself. I let out a breath. I did look twenty-three. So that meant he was pulling my leg. But what the hell was the thing I was holding?
"What is that?" I asked.
"It's a phone. You can even send messages on it and you can call out of state without it jacking the price up."
"What?" My head hurt. "Wait, did Howard Stark's flying car—"
Steve laughed. "No. I'm afraid not. But you should see the cars. They're so... modern. It's crazy."
"All of this is crazy." I needed a nap.
"Yes ma'am." The black man said. "Steve was supposed to tell you all of this slowly and not now. I apologize."
"It's... fine." I said, trying to sound calm so they would think I was handling it well. "Steve? Does—Can we listen to jazz now? Like, without old people looking at us disapprovingly?"
"Yeah, you can listen to anything. There's so much better music now—well, some of it is. You know how church music was kind of boring? It's better too. And the food—they fry stuff now. It's way more unhealthy but it tastes so much better."
The black man was looking at Steve like he wanted to bore a hole through his head.
"Oh, but you're not supposed to say fuck." Steve added. "It can be printed now but apparently it's wrong to say it."
"I never said that."
"Yeah, but I did." He grinned. "You okay?"
"Fine." I said, even though I wasn't.
"Women work everywhere now, too. Oh, and they can wear pants. Here, I brought you this." He reached down to the floor and came back up with a book on history.
"What about the war?" I asked.
"We won. Hitler killed himself. I mean, it was after he'd killed over eleven million people. But we won. In the big picture, at least."
"What about Uncle Leo?"
"His ship sank a couple months before the war ended. His body was found and buried near Granny."
I hesitated. "Steve, where the hell have I been?"
"Well, that's complicated."
"Yeah, I've heard. Tell me anyways."
It was his turn to hesitate.
"Steven Grant. Tell me now."
The stranger grinned and laughed quietly. "I like her."
"Okay." Steve nods. "Well, Bucky may or may not be dead—"
"May or may not? What the hell, Steve?"
"Yeah, it's complicated." He smiled a bit. "We think he may have been captured by Russians and—"
"You think?"
"Okay, well, we know. Anyways. He's what people call the Winter Soldier. He's kind of a super-soldier—"
"Like you?"
"Yeah. But brainwashed. And it's... it's not good, Rosie."
"Define not good." I said, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
"Really bad. He's an assassin with no ability to feel remorse. And he has a metal arm. He doesn't remember anything about his past."
"Oh, shit."
"So, can we ask you a favor?"
I nodded.
"Next time we see him, I need you to be there."
"Me?"
"Director, can we have a minute alone?" Steve turned around to the man.
"No."
"I—"
"No. I gave you a minute alone and you disobeyed my direct orders. No more."
Steve turned back to me. "He doesn't even know who he is. He tried to kill me, and then he tried to kill me again, and then he saved my ass. But he doesn't know who he is, and this is going to be really, really hard. You don't have to do it if you don't want to." He was using the tone that I was supposed to use on him, not him using on me. "I don't want you to get hurt. I know it feels like just yesterday you were being told he was dead, and I know this is hard to wrap your head around—"
I sighed. "Life was easier before you got huge."
He smiled. "You're telling me."
"I'll do it. What do I do?"
"We just want you to try to talk to him. We'll have a whole team of people there in case it goes south—"
"What's the worst that could happen?" I smiled, but I thought that it could turn out really bad.
"Well... I don't think you want to think about that."
"I'll do it."
"Are you sure? It's gonna be hard to go through and it might be dangerous."
"I'll do it."
"If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. You obey me."
"Fine. I said I'll do it. Why am I doing it, though?"
"I want to try to get through to him instead of fight him every time we meet."
"I'll do it. But Steve? How the hell are..."
"Do you remember anything that happened after you left us that day? Anything at all?"
"A man came to the door and said he had information on Bucky and asked me to come with him."
"And you went?"
"Well, yeah."
"What the hell, Rosemary? Why? Don't get in the car with strangers!"
"People don't just kidnap strangers from their homes." I shrugged.
"They do now. Be careful. Never get in a car with a stranger."
"Okay."
"So this man? Did he say where he was from?"
"No. But he had this ugly-ass patch thing on the arm of his jacket."
"Like this?" The director turned what Steve claimed to be a phone to me. On it was the same patch that was on the man's arm.
"Yes—yes... sir?" I didn't mean for it to sound like a question, but I'd never called a black man sir in my life. My father would have had a stroke.
The man smiled. "It's fine. I understand. Times change fast, don't they?"
"Yes sir." I nodded.
"You okay?" Steve asked.
"Yeah. Any other bombshells for me?"
"You can have sex before you're married now. The church still says no, but it's socially acceptable now."
I tried not to look absolutely appalled. "Oh my."
"People say 'Oh my God' too. There's no respect for anything either. There was another war in, like, the fifties and people here were protesting and spitting on soldiers. We lost that war."
I hesitated. "We lost a war?" I asked uncertainly. It sounded fake.
"Yeah. Weird, right?" He smiled.
I knew I looked absolutely appalled this time. Since when was it okay to spit on soldiers? "Were you there?"
"I'll explain when we get home. You can stay with me for a while, okay? You might wanna look out a window first, though."
I looked around, but everywhere was just walls. "There aren't any."
"Yeah. The director wanted to break it to you gently."
"Yeah, you're a jerk. Thank him for me."
The black man by the door held up a hand. "You're welcome."
I smiled, even though I felt stupid. Steve had literally called him director not even five minutes ago. "Okay, take me to a window."
He stood up. "Hey, Rosie, I know it seems like you just saw me, but I haven't seen you in years, so give me a hug, yeah?"
I wrapped my arms around him. I wasn't going to say it, but I was kind of terrified. If this wasn't a joke, I was going to cry.
I stopped and talked to the director as we walked out the door. "I'm... sorry, Mr...?"
"Fury." He offered his hand. "Nick Fury. And there's nothing to apologize for. I know it's a culture shock. Are you okay, Ms. Haywood?"
I shook his hand. "Yes sir. Thank you. Hey, is Steve okay?"
"As far as I know. I don't think you need to worry about him."
I followed Steve to look out the window. "I feel like I'm living in a Jules Verne novel."
"I know. It's crazy." Steve nodded, looking out the window with me. "You okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"Come on, let's go. We have clothes for you to change into before we leave. There's other stuff for you at home."
"You're such a sweetheart." I pinched his cheek.
"I'm still taller than you, you know."
"I know, but I'm still older." I smiled sweetly.
"Well, seeing as you don't know the next thing about this society, I'm technically the boss these days."
"Oh, no you're not." I put my hands on my hips.
"I know, but it was worth a shot." He grinned. "Come on. Let's get you home."
"Steve." I grabbed his hand as he turned towards the door. "How?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, Rosie. We think they experimented on you just enough to keep you alive. But we don't know. But doctors checked you out and you're good."
"How?"
He shook his head again. "I don't know."
I took a deep breath, but it sounded shaky. "Okay."
He kissed my head and held out his arm for me to take. "Come on. Let's go home."