𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗖𝗛 | bucky barnes

two.

два. (dva) — two.

Why couldn't she do it?

It would have been so easy. Pull the trigger. Hear the gunshot. Avenge her mother. Her life's work would be fulfilled.

But no. She couldn't pull the trigger. And she laid awake all night staring at the ceiling, cursing her actions. But even if she tried again, she knew she wouldn't be able to.

James Buchanan Barnes wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. And Mace knew that. She knew that James Barnes didn't kill her mother. The Winter Soldier did. And the Winter Soldier was already dead.

For the first time in many years, Mace Wilcox cried.

The day before felt like a dream when Mace woke up in the morning.  But when she splashed her face with water and really woke up, she knew it wasn't.  She didn't do it.

She was frustrated with herself all day.  She broke things.  Kicked things.  Screamed into pillows.

Now what would she do? Mace had spent her whole life looking for the Winter Soldier.  Spent her whole life preparing to kill him.  To get back for her mother's death.  And when the time finally came, she couldn't do it.  So what now?

Wouldn't this be what she felt like after she got her revenge, too? Empty? Like she accomplished nothing?

She was going to go face him again.

What she was going to say, or do, she didn't know.

Mace got dressed and walked out of her hotel. She went down the street and welcomed herself into the apartment building. This time, she did not pick the lock to Barnes's door. She stood there. Staring at it. And then she knocked.

She had taken weapons with her, of course. Just not a gun this time. Because she knew she couldn't kill him.

"You," said Barnes as he opened the door and saw her face.  "You come back to kill me? Because that didn't work very well for you last time."

Mace wasn't amused.  "I'm not here to kill you again."

"Then why are you here?"

"That's the problem," said Mace.  "I don't know."

Barnes tilted his head and examined Mace.

"Why don't you come in?"

Mace was confused.  "Come — no, you know what? I don't even know why I'm here.  I'll just —"

She began to turn around and go, but her name was called.

"Mace," he said.  "Just come in."

Mace turned around, and looked at Barnes.  He  stepped aside and gestured into the apartment.

"Fine," said Mace, "but only because I'm going to find out why I came."

Barnes shrugged as Mace walked past him and onto his living room.

"So," she said, looking around at his place.  She sat herself down on his couch.  "Don't get a lot of visitors?"

He raised his eyebrows.  "I bet you don't, either."

"Touché."

"You know why you came yet?" He sounded a little impatient.

Mace looked down at the floor. "Why did you let me in?"

Barnes shrugged. "Figured you needed someone to talk to."

Mace let out a breath, still looking at the floor.

"I still can't believe I came here," she said.  "To you, of all people."

"Do you know any other people?"

"That's —" but Mace cut herself off. "No."

"You should get a therapist," said Bucky.

"Sorry, what?"

"What?" he repeated.  "I have one."

"Aren't you required to?"

"I — that's not important."

"I just..." began Mace.  "I just don't know why I couldn't do it," she said.  "I was going to. I wanted to."

"Killing me isn't going to bring your mother back," said Barnes.

"But it would have given me satisfaction."

"Would it?"

Mace looked up at him.  "What are you doing?"

"You came here for answers," said James.  "Trust me, I know that look."

Mace stood up, getting annoyed with him. "You don't know anything about me."

"That's the thing," said Barnes, also getting to his feet. "I do."

"Excuse me?"

"When you asked me if I knew who you were yesterday — and I said no — that was a lie."

Mace tilted her head, still looking into his eyes.

"I knew who you were.  Marcella "Mace" Wilcox. 27.  With the blip years, 34.  Father. Jason Hern.  Deceased. Mother.  Carolina Wilcox.  Deceased.  Born November 16, 1991.  At birth was genetically examined to be a top tier assassin by the Red Room.  Was chased for the majority of life, protected by mother.  At age eight, the Winter — I was sent to kill your mother and bring you to Dreykov and the Red Room for training.  Went through the training for eleven years. Then escaped on your first mission and —"

"That's enough," stopped Mace. "So.. why?"

"I'm making amends," he said.  "With everyone I hurt as the Winter Soldier. And you, Mace .." He began taking something out of his back pocket.

"Whoa," said Mace, quickly taking a knife out of her jacket, slipping around him, and holding it to his neck, quick as the wind.

"Hey," he said, hands up.  One hand had a small notebook in it.

Mace let go of him, and put the knife back in her pocket. "Reflexes," she explained.

"I get it," he said.  "But Mace.. you were at the top of the list."

He opened the book to a spread of pages.  Each line had a name scrawled on it; a first initial and a surname.  The top line of the first page read:

M. Wilcox

She took the book and looked at it closer, skimming the other names on the pages. Some she knew — had heard about in Winter Soldier files, others weren't familiar.

"You knew who I was?" she looked up and said.

Bucky nodded. "Yes."

"And did you know I was after you?"

Barnes bit his lip. "Yes."

"Why was I the first on your list?"

"You were a kid," he said. "And I did something that no kid should ever experience. I wanted to — to make amends for that. Even if that's probably not possible."

"Why?" she asked.  "Why would you take the effort?"

"Even if it wasn't my mind that did it... it was my hands.  Mind control... it's the worst feeling in the world.  Knowing you did horrible things.  Having to live with them."

"I know that feeling," Mace said.  "But I did all the horrible things out of choice."

James Buchanan Barnes looked as if he felt sorry for her.