James Bucky Barnes, the former soldier, doesn't think he's got any gentleness left in him. But Grace Juniper Cunningham, the former child prodigy, strongly disagrees.
;
"𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯."
"𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴�...
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Rumlow was in a high tech, max security prison upstate. We each had to scan our fingerprints to enter through a set of automated, steel doors, the protocol for authorized visitors. Two corrections officers met us inside and led us to another gate, where we were told to remove any weapons. I guessed that was why Steve hadn't brought his shield. This process took Nat and Bucky a couple of minutes.
We stood outside an interrogation room, a table and two chairs visible through a one-way mirror. The room was otherwise empty.
"You're going in there? With Rumlow?" One of the corrections officers asked me skeptically, taking in my appearance. I was a little offended. I'd even worn pants instead of a skirt and sneakers that I could run in if necessary.
"Um, yeah," I confirmed.
He snorted. "He's batshit. Constantly starting problems."
"I'm crazy too," Bucky snapped. "And it's me you're gonna have the problem with if she gets hurt."
The corrections officer shook his head in disapproval, but didn't respond.
"Don't show Rumlow any fear," Natasha told me, gripping my shoulders to turn me away from the officer. "Don't show him anything if you can help it. He wanted to talk to you, he can talk to you. Doesn't mean you even have to talk back. He probably won't give up the base right away. If you have to, steer him toward that. Otherwise, don't engage with him."
"Okay."
"We'll be right outside," Steve said. "Don't worry."
"Okay."
"First sign of trouble, just get yourself out of there," Sam added. "I mean it: just get out of our way so we can kick his ass."
"Okay. Let's just get it over with."
"Grace. Hey." Bucky stepped in front of me before I could get to the door to the interrogation room. He stooped down to speak quietly. "You don't have to do this. You can still back out. The world's not gonna end if you don't do this. Hell, I'll go in and get it out of him."
"Our best shot is for me to do it," I told him. "I'm okay. Really."
"If he even looks at you wrong, I'm coming in there."
"Don't come in unless you have to. I don't want this to be for nothing."
"It's not worth it if you have to get hurt."
"I'll be okay," I said. I tugged on his forearms so he'd pull his hands from his pockets. I took his hands in mine and squeezed them gently. "I promise. I'll be okay."
