"YOU KNOW, I'M fine, really," I insisted as I was followed by the CIA agent who was assigned to me, whatever that meant. "I appreciate everything you guys have done for me, seriously. But I just want to lay down and take a nap, okay? I've been up for, like, forever and now I'm in desperate need of sleep, so will you just let me do my thing?" I turned around and crossed my arms, scrutinizing the agent. "Or are you gonna watch me change, too?"

After getting into another CIA-approved vehicle(this one much smaller and sleeker), I'd been driven to a hotel that—I'm going to be honest—I'd originally thought was a resort, or something. I mean, the entire front of the building was covered in elegant stone that gave it an old-fashioned, European-style architecture vibe. If I was at all interested in history, I'm sure I would have gotten down on my knees and prayed for more beautiful things like this to grace my eyes.

But let's be real, I couldn't tell the difference between the Age of Enlightenment and the invention of the light bulb. Aren't they the same thing?

I'd expected him to be uncomfortable by my suggestion, but the man in shades standing in front of me merely clasped his hands in front of him. "Miss Reid, I am under strict instruction to make sure you get to your hotel, and remain there for the next week."

"Oh," I nodded, rolling my eyes, "so it's not a stalker thing, it's more of a quarantine thing. Great." I glanced back at the beautiful building behind me and grimaced. "I can't believe you're making me pay for this. Isn't that kind of...rude?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "You are a very important person to the Agency at this time. Agent Ross specifically asked that you stay in this hotel, so as to be in reach if you are needed." He said it all with his smooth, commanding tone that sounded close to a practiced performance.

I swallowed roughly and closed my eyes, images of money burning flashing brightly in my mind. Oh, fucking hell. "You know that makes me sound like I'm a pawn in a game you're playing, right?"

For a second, I thought I'd won when he didn't say anything. He reached up to pull his shades off of his face and peered down at me with his towering frame and piercing eyes. "Miss Reid. If you would please..." Holding up a hand and gesturing towards the front door of the hotel, he waited for me to give in and enter the expensive place that I would, apparently, be calling home for the next week.

Grumbling, I did as he asked and went through every step of getting a room, wincing as I swiped my card. I'm gonna be in debt for years, I groaned inwardly. Forget student loans, I'm gonna be paying off this hotel in tiny increments each month.

After the process was complete and I was handed the key to my room(an actual key, mind you), I headed towards the elevator, pausing for a moment to eye the agent that stood behind me. His hair was probably dark brown at some point in his life, but as he'd aged, gray started to speckle throughout his sparsely covered scalp. He was still a relatively handsome man, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

He met my eyes, catching me. "Yes?"

I shrugged. "You have a name or something?"

The agent chuckled. "Agent Wretton," he answered, though his name rolled off his tongue roughly, like he didn't have enough practice telling it.

"Huh," I smirked as the elevator doors opened. "So do people call you 'Red?'"

He looked insulted. "No, my name is Wret—"

"Relax, I'm only joking." I swallowed a grin. "Red."

My bags and minimal belongings were retrieved from the quaint motel I was staying in, just as Ross had promised. In the middle of all this expensive decor, I was thankful to have my ratty clothes to make it look a little more like home.

Home. Just another thing I didn't have anymore. It wasn't that I missed my house; it's just a reminder of everything now. It was more that I missed belonging to something, somewhere, someone. I missed having a safe place, whatever or whomever that happened to be.

In simple terms, I missed Bucky.

The next few days went by slowly, filled with nothing more than a late night swim in the clear pool outside, or a walk down the street. Of course, I was always followed, always cornered by Agent Wretton and his intimidating stature, seeming as though he never changed out of his suit and tie.

"Seriously, this again?" I asked in exasperation when I'd finally had enough. I'd hardly made it out of the hotel and down the street when I whirled around, glaring at him. "I'm fine. It's a little suspicious to have someone from the CIA following me around, don't you think?"

Wretton blinked, and then spoke in that god awful tone of his. "Miss Reid, I've been assigned to keep you safe—"

"Yeah, you're keeping an eye on me," I rolled my eyes. "You're just here to make sure I don't go anywhere."

He didn't reply after that. Eventually he lifted his eyes to meet mine. "Look," he started, his voice low, "There's a reason we didn't broadcast your name over all the news stations for those few months we were looking for you." I shifted uncomfortably as I realized this was true. "You hadn't done anything worth putting on a manhunt for. But that doesn't give you the freedom to do whatever you want now. You need to remain on the low for a while." He cleared his throat, pursing his lips. "Just until we get this whole situation cleared up."

I sneered. "Cleared up? Come on, Red." He cocked an eyebrow at the nickname, still irked that I wouldn't let it go. "You and I both know that the only way you'll accept the ending to this is with Bucky locked in a cell somewhere."

He stayed silent. Then, "You can disagree with me as often as you please, Miss Reid. But it won't stop me from keeping you under strict supervision."

I grunted. "You sound like my mother." I puffed out a breath of air and crossed my arms. "Alright, Red."

"My name is not—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I smirked. "You can hate the nickname as much as you want, but it won't stop me from using it," I mocked him, watching his lips curl down in a tight frown. "If you're following me around, why don't we go to a bar together? Get to know each other?"

Agent Wretton shook his head. "Miss Reid, I don't drink on duty."

I shrugged. "Just as well. But if you're not drinking, then you're not allowed inside. It's basic bar and pub etiquette." I held up my hands as if to say, that's the way the world works, I guess. Too bad.

His eyes flitted off to one side, the closest I would get to seeing him roll his eyes. "I'll..." he paused, trailing off. "I'll stay outside," he compromised, "only if you promise to set a time for returning to the hotel."

The swift temptation to negotiate further with him crowded my mind, but I gave in, holding out my hand for him to shake. "Deal. I suppose you're driving, right?"

I followed him to his car and sat in silence as he drove me downtown, finding the nearest bar I could drown my thoughts in. I didn't even look at the sign before marching right up to the bouncer outside, holding out my ID for him to check. I was waved in, and I gave Wretton a parting wave as the doors enveloped me into the building.

It was clearly a bar that allowed smoking, as a cloudy haze fell over my eyes in the dim room, the repugnant stench of cigarette smoke suffocating my senses. It was moderately full of middle-aged people, men and women alike, looking for a way to debrief after a long day at work. No one noticed me as I found my way to the scarcely-populated bar, sliding into a seat and leaning forward on the counter.

"What can I get you?" The bartender made her way over to me quickly, drying a glass in her hands. Her eyes were wide but tired, her low bun falling out from hours of making drinks.

I looked down at my hands. "Gin and tonic?" I asked. "With olives. Lots of olives. And in a tub, please."

She grinned, letting out a chuckle at my request for extra dressings and nodded. "Good choice." I watched her make my drink, the art of pouring liquid into a short, clear glass fascinating to my empty self.

As she slid the glass towards me, I flashed a quick smile in thanks, picking it up and proceeding to down the entire thing in only a few swallows. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the whoosh of alcohol as it went down my throat. "Damn," I hissed through my teeth.

The bartender raised her eyebrows. "Uh, you want another?" I nodded quickly, biting the olives and pulling them off the spear with my teeth.

We went on like that for another round, but I drank the next few drinks a little slower so as to keep my senses with me. I didn't want to go through another birthday...incident again anytime soon, so I took it slow.

But as I got more and more distracted by my thoughts, I'd started wishing that I ordered something stronger.

"Elda," he whispered in my ear just as I began drifting off to sleep, "Elda, look at me."

"Look at me in the morning," I grumbled, hugging myself tighter under the covers. "I'm going to bed."

Of course, once I'd broken through his walls, he never stopped talking. "Elda," he insisted, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Elda..."

I sighed heavily and turned over, facing him in the dark room. "Bucky," I replied, "if you keep doing this every night, I'm making you sleep downstairs in your own bed."

I couldn't see him clearly in the dark room, but I could tell that he was smiling, his nose scrunched in that way that made his demons leave his face, letting me glimpse the version of himself that existed before all this. "Fine," he agreed. "But I just have one question."

My eyebrows lifted in question, waiting.

"Can I kiss you again?"

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks flushing. "Buck, we've been over this. You don't have to keep asking."

"I know," he grinned, leaning in closer, "but I like it when you blush."

My eyes were blank as I stared down at my empty glass, reminiscing that one perfect night that we'd had. After months of going at each other's necks, we'd reached a point of friendship, and then...something more. With his nightmares that came nearly every night, I was the one that invited him to keep sleeping in my bed every night.

"What if I hurt you?" He asked, eyes clouded. "I can't do that again."

I put a hand on his shoulder tentatively, watching him as he relaxed under my touch. "You won't," I promised. "I know what I'm getting myself into now."

We'd even taken the time to look up the best ways to wake up a military veteran from a nightmare, if I needed to do it again. But once he'd started falling asleep in the same space as me, I'd never heard him have a nightmare.

"I'm...I think I'm actually sleeping now." He sounded surprised.

I grinned. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He reached across the table and grasped my hand, intertwining our fingers together. "What are you doing to me, Elda Reid?"

Winking at him, I replied, "Providing you with the peace of mind you deserve."

"Hey, are you okay?"

I looked up to see the bartender peering at me, except...well, my vision was a little blurry. A warm trickle down my cheek made me realize that I was crying.

Wiping my eyes, I nodded and stood up. "Yeah, I'll be right back," I excused myself, "where's the bathroom?"

"In the back, the sign's on the wall."

I nodded and stumbled my way back to the bathroom, making my best effort to keep the tears from falling down. I couldn't see myself, but I knew I did a horrible job at it.

Once I reached the bathroom I waited a second, holding myself together for a moment longer. I heard no one in the silence, no feet on the floor in the stalls. I was alone. Thank God.

The second the door was locked and I was alone, I crumbled to the floor. Stop crying, you pussy, a voice in my head scolded me, but I gave it no validation as my shoulders shook with loud sobs that echoed off the walls. I could only hope that the music was loud enough in the bar that no one would come checking on me. Especially Agent Wretton. I had to be out there at eleven, or he'd promised to drag me out by my ear.

I couldn't think of any of that for long though, as I erupted in emotion. For months, I'd been holding it all together, riding on the hopes that I would find Bucky by myself, beat up whoever thought it was okay to steal him from his family, and go back to living my life. But as the months went on, I'd begun to realize how warped that idea was. I had no training, and absolutely no fucking clue where to even begin searching for Bucky's whereabouts.

I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea how I'd even gotten here. Not here, in this place, but here, in this situation. Bucky was there for awhile, but I should have known he wouldn't be there forever. I should have guessed that his past would catch up with him, regardless of Steve's or Sam's presence. That he would be ripped from my grip just like everything good that has ever happened to me.

It was Cade all over again. But this time, it was the man that I'd fallen in love with.

I didn't know anything about this. I was a fool for thinking I could solve any of this.

Another wave of tears flowed straight out of my lungs, the taste of grief bitter on my tongue. You're a fucking idiot, Elda, I blamed myself, why the fuck would any of this work? You're just running from the truth.

You're never gonna find him.

A stall door squeaked. "Uh, not to make this awkward or anything, but my legs were cramping from all the squatting I was doing on that toilet."

The tears froze on my face and I looked up, cheeks flushing with embarrassment and confusion. A young woman, a few years younger than me by the looks of it, stood in the greater area of the bathroom, staring at me with a grimace. Her brown hair was braided down the back of her head, the thick plait falling over one shoulder. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her denim jacket and she jutted a hip out, planting herself on the tile floor.

"Who—who are you?" I choked out, rubbing my nose.

The stranger waved a dismissive hand at me and squinted. "Do you do this often? Cause we're gonna have a problem if you're this...blubbery all the time."

"I..." I paused, then continued indignantly, "no, this isn't normal. I'm just having a really fucked up day."

"Well, aren't we all?" She held out a hand for me. "Let's go. Places to be, people to see, asses to kick!"

I stared at her hand like it carried an unidentified disease. "Uh, what?"

The woman retracted her hand and smiled, her face brightening with the easy expression. "Oh, I forgot to mention," she said, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "I'm an old...friend of Steve's." She pulled me to my feet and shook my hand. "Nice to finally meet you, Elda. I'm Cara Jansen."

||

wow, this was 2658 words this time, and it was originally gonna be longer! but i saved some of it for the next chapter, so...yeah!

okay, if you haven't met my oc cara jansen before(she's in my steve rogers duo, home & stay), don't worry! there are so many plot holes in that story and so many problematic elements that i didn't even realize it had, like *illegal* age differences in relationships!!!! wow laura so horrible how are you even a functioning human being

anyway, if you haven't met her before, i will go through the whole introduction and stuff in the next couple chapters, so if you don't want to read two books for background knowledge on her, you don't have to!

alrighty, what did we think of this one! i personally loved this chapter! see you next monday, on july 29!

july 22, 2019