Jane Buchanan Barnes

Well, she was. As often as she could manage. And it still hadn't.

The apartment was too bright. Too soft. And the noise from the city was so loud — even without super-hearing. None of his powers had resurfaced yet, and he didn't know if they ever would. No one at the DOD did, either, and without access to Koslov's device to study exactly how it worked, all they could was theorize.

Playing with the boys was the only time things felt anywhere close to normal. So he did it every chance he could, as much as his recovering injuries would allow. Lois stayed home with him — it was the most time he'd ever seen her take off work — and he did his best to savor that while his strength slowly built back up.

But it still all felt like a dream. Like at any moment, his eyes would open and he'd be back in that cell.

Bucky's random little messages helped. He saw exactly what she was doing, but appreciated it nonetheless. So, after a quick check with Lois, he typed a reply.

[SMS/Clark]: well, i was planning a quick jaunt to the moon with alpine, but for you i can reschedule. 😉 see you at 6:30.

The big crock of Winnie Barnes' potato leek soup had gone down well, as had the platter of molasses cookies, and now Bucky and Clark were out on the back patio, having a beer and watching the sun begin to set. Or at least, Clark was watching the sunset. For her part, Bucky was watching him just as much as she was watching the sky.

"Not somethin' either of us needs to worry about," Bucky said firmly. "We're inoculated against insanity, 'cause we're already a little bit crazy all the time. S'like gettin' the smallpox shot. And you been a little crazy as long as I've known you, Steve." She added, grinning, "It's why I picked you for a friend in the first place. Knew I'd never be bored as long as I had you around."

The captain ended up offering Yuri his guest room, in a move that was easy enough to interpret: Steve Rogers didn’t trust anyone else to keep Yuri alive long enough to testify. Steve Rogers still didn’t trust SHIELD. And after the way HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD, not to mention the things SHIELD had come up with on their own, who could blame him? Nick Fury might be doing his best to weed out HYDRA’s influence, but SHIELD still wasn’t any more trustworthy than Department X had been.

That was the thing about covert government organizations. Deception was their main business, their bread and butter.

“I appreciate this,” Yuri said, as they ate an awkward dinner together. He’d volunteered to cook, since the captain was a busy man and Yuri had little else to do, and Captain Rogers seemed satisfied with a bowl of borscht and a plate of kotlety, potatoes, and mushrooms cooked with onions. Though, if he was anything like Jane, he would probably eat whatever was put on his plate, and quickly, too. Yuri had to assume that it was a habit formed during the Great Depression, just as those like his own mother, who’d been a child during Stalin’s manufactured famine in the 1930s, had never taken food for granted.

He chewed a forkful of potato before saying, “I know this has been an inconvenience to you, captain. But rest assured that I’m grateful. I came to you because I’m…trying to do better than I’ve done in the past. Trying to fix at least a piece of one of my mistakes. I’d like to stay alive long enough to do that.”

Jane was being held in custody pending the trial – apparently she’d been deemed a flight risk, which Yuri found a rather stupid assumption, given that she’d turned herself in voluntarily in the first place – and Captain Rogers wasn’t certain that his visits to her were fully confidential, so he had only told her that he’d found another witness, not who that witness was. A pity, really; Yuri would have liked to pass along a message of support and his own assurance that he would do whatever he could to help her. But such were the necessities. Keeping Yuri alive until he could testify was more important than words of reassurance.

The S.S.R. had been for wartime. What they became after, a war of spies and the specter of nuclear weapons, was hardly recognizable to Steve. He was too much of himself to be a spy. Let Director Fury handle who he trusted; Steve would not make that mistake again, not with Bucky’s life on the line.

Yuri was a considerate guest beyond simply being a prisoner at Captain America’s place. Steve believed it was who the man was, likely due to his profession. Nobody trusted a slobby doctor. Trust didn’t have anything to do with it under HYDRA. 

Their living situation was tense. Steve ensured his security was up to the task and restricted communications to him alone. He wasn’t cruel; Yuri was able to go anywhere in the building except for Steve’s office, personal quarters, and the ‘Captain America shrine’ as Fury called it. Plenty of books and paper for Yuri to read. Occasionally, they talked when Steve was home.

“Mmm,” Steve said before taking a few bites of borscht, sitting up straight yet guarding his portion with his arms. Old habits; he didn’t think Yuri would steal his food. He was used to eating what he could fast and heading back out to battle. “This is good. Filling.” He wasn’t saying it to be polite. The flavor was enjoyable, though he wouldn’t have a craving for it. “Thank you for cooking.” He took a few measured bites, chewing over Yuri’s words. 

“You’re not a big of an inconvenience as you could’ve been. I don’t have to keep you in a cell, for example. We may have…large differences in values but we agree where Bucky is concerned.” He took another bite, “I appreciate your help. I try to look for the good in others. There is always an opportunity to do the right thing.”

If life was different, they may have been acquaintances, sharing knowledge.

Steve agreed with Yuri - it was stupid for Bucky to be deemed a flight risk; no prison could hold her if she didn’t think she belonged there. His heart squeezed. Clinging to hope was a childish notion Steve couldn’t shake.

Peter snorted, “Thanks. You look like a million bucks.” Truthfully he didn’t sleep well most nights- and when she mentioned Benzedrine, “You’ve got to be kidding me. They drugged you?” had they went over that in school? Peter couldn’t remember, but he supposed he didn’t really want to focus on it either. Bucky was right, he had been sloppy- last night a regular person had almost died and he’d almost let a car thief get away. “I-” he exhaled, “I’m working on it.” he promised softly.

"Yeah," Bucky said, shrugging. "They sure did. Not as often as the Nazis drugged their soldiers, though, thank God. And it wasn't just for shits and giggles. Sometimes sleep wasn't an option, and it was drug or die. The bennies would keep us goin' long enough to do what we needed to do without keelin' over from exhaustion."