This is not the Endgame

I woke up in between a memory and a dream

On Sunday, Bucky waited until early afternoon before going over to Ava's apartment. She'd been doing laundry; sheets and towels were pinned to her clothesline. Slowly, giving him time to evade, she wrapped her arms around him, coming in close for the hug. He closed his arms around her too, but he'd been a little late and the hug was over too soon. They chatted as she cut the lock out of its packaging and gave him the appropriate screwdriver from a set she had. He was about to ask whether there was something else she needed done--not likely, she was handy and could actually have done this herself--when his phone rang insistently.  He listened impatiently, said a few words, and hung up.

"Something at work's come up," he said. "Sorry. I was hoping to spend more time with you, if you were free."

"Well, that would have been fun, but we've got to keep the bosses happy, right?" She reached up and indulged in running her fingers through his hair. He'd taken special care with it, hoping for just this result. "Come by later, though." He dipped his head and kissed her mouth, nipping her lower lip at the end. She grinned, eyes warm. Reluctantly, he left. One of his targets, an important but shielded member of the Serpent Society support team, was on the move. He hoped that the woman was just doing shopping or something, not leaving town.

Luck was with him;  he followed the target into Central Park, observing her leaving a flash drive on a park bench--amateur--he wandered over and sat down, the drive a millimeter from his leg. It was a nice day; he sat there for almost an hour, talking to a few people who also sat down, just for the fun of pissing off whoever was waiting to retrieve the drive. The park was crowded and there were plenty of tourists as well as locals. Finally, a group of people who looked like they were here for a convention went by, and he stood, casually palming the drive before working his way through the conventioneers. He slid the drive into his glove and made his way to the nearest path to the street, moving briskly but not hurriedly. He felt hands delicately insert themselves into the pockets of his jacket, and turned abruptly. "Hey!" he barked. "Thief!" The man turned and ran, quickly swallowed up by the crowd. There was nothing in his pockets to take; even his key ring with the apartment and motorcycle keys was in his jeans pocket, and he'd conspicuously put his hands only into his jacket pockets. He started for home, feeling good about his activities. Maybe Ava would go out to dinner with him.

***

"This is it," Sam said, indicating The Shithole. He opened the door and they walked into the lobby. Sam looked around and saw Ava coming down the stairs. She wasn't wearing a coat, just a heavy sweatshirt, so she wasn't going out. She walked over to the mailboxes, removing a decent chunk of mail, and turned to the stairs as she sorted through it.

"Hey!" he said, and she turned.

"Hi... Sam, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Hey--"

"Do you know if Bucky's around?" the man with him asked eagerly.

"Who's Bucky?" she asked blankly.

"Jim," Sam inserted quickly. Her eyebrows drew together, like these guys were crazy.

"Who wants to know?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm his friend," the blond man said. "Steve." Her eyes flicked between the two men a few times, not missing Sam looking jaundiced about this statement.

"Steve.... he mentioned a Steve... you wouldn't be the friend who went haring off after the Unsnappening, would you?" Her voice had acquired a bite. A significant snap.

"Uh--"

"Does Jim/Bucky know about this? That he's back?" she asked Sam, who wanted to facepalm.