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Bucky hated to do this. He knew it was a bad idea, like most of his ideas. But he also knew he had to get a secure message to the Hatut Zeraze and this was the only way he had to do that. In saving Yelena and the rest out in the desert, he’d barged his way into the middle of Val’s little plot. Now he had to report his progress.
“So, tell me again why we’re in the swamp? Is this Mississippi?” Ava asked from the far back right seat of the Hummer.
“Doesn’t Sam, I mean, Mr. Captain America, live down here?” prodded John from right behind him, leaning into the title like it was in air quotes. Bucky wanted to throttle the life out of him.
“Nice house. Mr. Captain America is doing well for himself,” pronounced Alexi from the back passenger seat. He craned his neck to see between the two seats. There was a house at the end of the road. Beyond the house, a pier, the Time Out Bench, the water.
Bucky missed this place like he missed his original arm, with a constant ache.
He prayed he wasn’t bringing trouble here, as he’d always promised Sarah he wouldn’t.
It was the middle of the day. The boys were in school. Sarah would be at the restaurant on the other side of town. There was no car in the curved drive. It was all clear.
“Yelena come with me.”
“Why?”
“So you can watch my back,” Bucky said. But he really meant so he could keep an eye on her. Left behind, Yelena was likely to leave the Hummer anyway and poke around the house, scaring the neighbors.
He wanted to avoid leaving her empty handed if he could help it.
Yelena snorted like she didn’t believe him. She exited the Hummer.
Bucky looked back over the rest of the not-quite-superheros, then said in his best dad voice. “You -- stay here. We’ll be back.”
“Yes Dad,” mocked John. There he was with those air quotes again.
Bucky sucked his teeth and got out of the hummer.
Up the stairs, across the porch, everything was as expected. Even the little creak in the boards that he’d intentionally left there so he could hear anyone sneaking around.
“Yelena,” he pointed at the corner of the porch, indicating she should stay there. She rolled her eyes, but nodded.
The door wasn’t locked, as usual. His intention to be fast, mixed with looking back over his shoulder to make sure Yelena was doing as he told, had him a step into the living room before he noticed Sarah, standing in the dinning room, her “#1 mom” mug in her hand.
That pause lasted for ever.
She was wearing sweatpants with a Wilson Family Seafood t-shirt in an off color of pink with the neckline cut off, so it sagged off her shoulder. Her hair was tied up in a red piece of fabric he’d given her.
She’d lost a little weight, had an extra few grey hairs along her hairline. Around her neck, a gold chain held their engagement ring.
He watched her gasp, recognize him, go from surprise to excitement to an eye-watering joy. She thought he was home. For good. She thought it was over.
But he wasn’t.
The fact that he was going to now have to explain that to her broke his heart all over again. Letting people down was what he did, one of the only things he was reliable about. He hated that about himself.
He let go of the door knob, raised his hand habitually.
“Hi Sarah.”
“Hi,” she replied.
He extended his metal arm with a wait gesture, crossed to her quickly, “Intanda, I’m, I’m just here to pick up something. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Took the day off. I lent Becs the truck and determined to actually sit down for a change. Why…pick up what?”
They’d met in the wide doorway between the living and dining room, embracing out of habit, her mug still in her hand, held behind his shoulders. He let himself close his eyes and hold her for a whole, blessed breath.
“You smell amazing,” he breathed into the side of her neck.
Sarah purred like she did. “You’re full of shit, James, I smell like I haven’t done laundry yet this week.”
When she stiffened in his arms, he knew his life was actually, somehow, getting worse.
“James, who’s that?” she asked over his shoulder.
With a reluctant release of his arms, he turned to see Yelena, smiling brightly from inside the doorway. She was as silent as she’d been trained to be.
“Hello there!” she greeted in her best middle American accent. The ease with which she could put on different personas was staggering, even to Bucky.
“Hi?” Sarah breathed out suspiciously.
Bucky had to step in.
“Sarah, this is Helena, she’s my….” Bucky said, using an American version of her name as he gestured towards Yelena.
“I’m his daughter,” Yelena said with the quick ease of the truth.
Bucky didn’t know if he wanted to die, or to kill her, or both. He did know that many things happened at once. Sarah screamed and threw her mom mug, the one he’d had mended with gold. Yelena continued to grin like the chaos machine she was. He stepped forward, catching the mug, drenching his tactical vest in hot coffee, and turned to scold Yelena in insistent Russian:
“Yelena, do not do this.”
He turned back to Sarah, in English: “She is most certainly not my daughter.”
Yelena ignored the Russian, replied in English, “Oh Dad, don’t be like that, you know it hurts.” A mock pout covered her face.
“I swear to God…” Bucky said in Russian.
“I mean, I know I’m a secret and all, but if you can’t be honest with family, what can you do, DAD.” She turned to Sarah. “Can I meet your…” she hesitated, let her eyes go up and down Sarah, “your fiance?”
“I’m going to bury you where even the Red Room can’t find you, Yelena,” Buck replied in Russian, then immediately back in English “Sarah, please, listen to me. Helena is…special.”
Both Sarah and Yelena yelled at once, “SPECIAL!”
Then veered off in different verbal directions, talking at once.
“What the actual fuck is going on?” said Sarah. Her voice had the steely seriousness of which she was capable, with only the curse word indicating how sour her mood had gone. “What language is that?
Bucky?”
“Really Daddy, that’s rude. The proper term is autistic maybe, or ADHD with a side of anxiety. You weren’t around to be a good dad, so can you blame me?”
“Hey, hey there, everything okay?” a new voice joined the fray from the door, further taxing Bucky’s patience.
“Yelena, perestan’ vesti sebya kak nevospitannyy rebenok! And you, Sarah, please, give me a minute to explain.”
“Hey, hey!”, Alexei tried again to intervene. He didn’t open the door, just pressed his face to the screen. “Yelena, Soldat, what’s going on? Is there trouble?”
Bucky screamed: “NO!”
Yelena screamed: “YES!”
Sarah screamed: “WHO ARE YOU?”
“May I come in?” Alexei asked politely, “I’m her father and his partner.”
“You are not my partner,” replied Bucky automatically.
“Team mate then, we are on mission together.” Alexei tapped on the door again, not wanting to be rude. “May I?”
“Soldat, did he say Soldat?” said Sarah. Bucky could see the muscles in her shoulders tighten.
“Sarah, it means soldier in Russian,” he explained.
“But also he is, how you say, Winter Soldier, yes?” added Alexei helpfully. Not helpfully.
Sarah didn’t say anything to that. She just looked Bucky dead in his eyes. What was left of Bucky’s soul left his body. Torn between stepping forward to comfort her and stepping back to ease the tension, he stood still.
“Sarah, Kitten, that guy is not here right now. It is me. Bucky.” He slipped into Wakandan. “Bast above, I swear on the Queen Mother, Sarah. Please.”
That at least got through the melee. He watched her relax, roll her shoulders back and down.
“Bucky, what is going on?” Sarah asked. He could see her trying to hold the situation in both hands. “Who are these people?”
“Wakandan. Show off,” said Yelena, trying to continue to stir the pot. They both ignored her.
“It is hard to explain,” Bucky said.
“Well, if we’re all meeting her!” came a booming voice from the porch. Bucky looked over Yelena’s head to see John Walker stride through his front door.
If he thought things were bad, they got immediately and infinitely worse.
John walked in, his right hand extended, brushed between Alexei and Yelena to try to shake Sarah’s hand.
“I’m John Walker, it is an honor to meet the sister of the latest Captain America.”
Bucky had known Sarah a good while. He knew her traumas. Her fears. Knew her angry in the Supercenter parking lot and relaxed in bed. Knew every crease and curve of her moods. Still, he was surprised when Sarah reached back and punched John Walker directly on his All-American chin.
Yelena whistled through her teeth. “Super serum didn’t make you smart enough to see that one coming?” she sneered.
“The Wilsons, they are punchers, for sure,” observed Alexei.
Sarah ripped her empty coffee mug out of Bucky’s grip and stormed back into the kitchen.
One breath, during which Bucky gripped the bridge of his nose, trying to find what remained of his sanity. John was gathering his feet, trying to defend himself against the twin derision of Yelena and Alexei and the embarrassment of being punched by a middle aged mother.
Then Sarah screamed “WHO ARE HELL ARE YOU!?! I SWEARTAGAWD!!!”
Bucky flew the few steps to the kitchen to see Sarah standing face to face with Ava, who was leaned casually against the counter, drinking coffee from his Captain America mug.
“Ava!”
“What, why did I have to stay in the car when no one else did?”
“In the living room, now.”
***
John stood in front of the fireplace, hands on his hips like he was posing for a photo. A crimson bruise was growing on his chin.
Alexei and Ava were seated on the sofa. Alexei looking jealously at the mug of coffee Ava had brought with her. He started to gesture to ask for one, but the stare from Bucky was enough to silence him.
Yelena was seated in the arm chair, doing her best impression of a remorseful teenager.
Sarah stood next to Bucky, who did the introductions.
“Sarah Wilson, this is Yelena, she is the sister of my friend, Natasha. I told you about her.”
“Romanov, friend of Sam’s too, from the days on the run. He spoke highly of her.”
“Yes, that Natasha.”
“Your sister did right by my brother. Nice to meet you.”
Yelena looked genuinely remorseful at the mention of Natasha, at how honestly Sarah spoke to her. She nodded, “nice to meet you.”
“You know John Walker.”
“As much as I want to, yes,” Sarah said between gritted teeth. Bucky raised his hand before John could speak.
“Don’t. I won’t stop her from hitting you again.”
John pursed his lips together tight and nodded.
“This is Alexei Shostakov.”
“Red Guardian,” Alexei murmured into his beard.
“Alexei got the super serum in Russia, a long time ago.”
“Not as long ago as you,” he replied.
“Nice to meet you, Alexei.”
“He is Yelena and Natasha’s father.”
Bucky cut his eyes from Alexei to Yelena and back. Both nodded. “I am proud of her,” said Alexei.
“And I am stuck with him,” taunted Yelena.
“And this is Ava Starr.”
“Hello.”
“Hi Ava. You seem like, the normal one?”
Ava phased out of sight then back, taking the mug with her.
“Not really, no,” she replied. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Thanks.”
“Everyone, this is Sarah Wilson,” Bucky said finally, with a gesture. He hesitated then pushed through. “She is the most important person in the world to me. There is no where on earth you will be safe from me if you ever breath her name to anyone. Ever.”
“I’ve already forgotten it,” said Yelena.
Everyone else nodded.
“Good. Thank you. Now, I’m going to do what I came here to do. You all, “he gestured around the room, “stay here. Please try not to make any trouble? Can we do that?”
Each of them said yes in turn under his sharp stare.
“Can we get some coffee?” asked John. Bucky narrowed his gaze.
“Sure. I can be hospitable,” replied Sarah, taking a deep breath. “I was raised with home training, unlike some people.”
John gestured to himself. The rest looked at him and nodded.
Bucky followed Sarah into the kitchen, only for her to keep her back to him.
“Sarah.”
“Do what you came to do. I’ll be here.”
He knew well enough to do as he was told.
***
***
When he came back down, Sarah and Yelena were sitting at the dining room table, a bottle of vodka between them flanked by two cordial glasses. The scent of alcohol was thick. Sarah had a photo album open in front of her with pictures of Sam. Yelena was swiping through pictures of Natasha on her phone.
“And here, I found this one in a random photo shoot at a film premier in Copenhagen, she’s in the background.”
“That is her! She looks runway ready.”
“She always did.”
Ava stood leaned against the door frame, watching with same expression she always had -- a smooth exterior hiding a turbulent interior. Behind her, Alexei flipped through a magazine while John paced the porch impatiently.
Sarah and Yelena looked up at the same time. Sarah closed the album, prompting Yelena to say:
“I am sorry, it wasn’t a very funny joke.”
Sarah shrugged, stood, “You have a pretty strange life, I can only imagine that does horrible things to ones’ sense of humor.”
“It does,” Yelena said, then stood. “Looks like it is time to go.”
“Just about,” Bucky agreed. “Maybe get everyone moving towards the hummer? While I…” he gestured at Sarah, couldn’t quite figure his way around the word good-bye.
Yelena, for once without questioning, turned and said loudly to the rest, “okay, time for a bathroom check. Any of you kids need to pee? And the answer is yes, don’t pretend you don’t have to go then expect us to pull over off the turnpike.”
Bucky laid his hand gently on Sarah’s shoulder. When she looked up at him, he nodded his head towards the back of the house. She rose, followed him into the laundry room.
Door closed behind her, she stood a moment with her hand on the knob as Bucky leaned against the washer. Even this small room was flooded with his memories of her. He opened his arms wide and she came to him, folding into his chest with her signature sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments.
“For what?”
“Bast andicede, a whole list of things.”
He hoped that would make her laugh, but it didn’t. She just burrowed her face further into his shirt.
“I know you have to leave again,” she said, voice strained with holding back her tears.
“Last time I’m leaving.”
She chuckled bitterly, then eased when he stiffened in offense. “I know that’s your intention, James. I do believe you. But I’m starting to believe that, that…what’s the saying, ‘God doesn’t give with both hands.’ I don’t get to have you and…” she looked up at him, “and anything else.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’m a gift from God, but I will personally fight him to come back to you. For good.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Once this is over, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not to go to the mailbox.”
“Fair.”
“Who…what…I’m not supposed to ask about the mission, but…these people?”
“They are…new to all of this,” he said, explaining without details, “they need help.”
“They sure do,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “ What are you? A superhero trainer?”
“I’d be happy to get them to stop fighting like toddlers.”
“They respect you. You’ve got that going for you.”
He looked down into her eyes, close and dark and damp with the edge of tears held back.
“That’s about all I’ve got going for me. That and your faith.”
“May it be enough.”
“It is.”
She tipped her chin, just so, an invitation he took, kissing her gently, then harder. Her fingertips pressed into the meat of his back, then purred into the kiss. The jolt of hungry, wanton desire sent a shiver up the back of his neck. He spun them both, turning and lifting her up onto the washing machine, finding his way in between her thighs. They both gave into it, to the urgent need for friction they were both feeling, letting their bodies meet to fill in all the things still unsaid.
Reluctantly, as his body’s reaction was pressing insistently against her thigh, they paused, both knowing it wasn’t the time or the place. He rested his forehead on hers. Their breaths mingled and eased.
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Always.”
“Okay, you should go. Boys will be home.”
A last quick kiss, a squeeze of both hands, and he was gone.
Sarah wept in the laundry room for longer than she usually let herself, then got back to the business of living.