a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

thirteen.

WASHINGTON D.C.
2014

JUNE gaped at Bucky, stupefied, dumbfounded and struggling to decide if the wisest choice would be to shut the door and pretend she wasn't home. But something about the way he looked stopped her. His gaze was pleading, desperate, and June suspected that the past two months had not faired him well. At last, she regained her voice.

"Steve isn't here," she told him stiffly.

Bucky only nodded, whether in acceptance or confirmation of consciousness, June did not know. She pressed her lips together tightly, realizing the crossroads she had been unwillingly placed at, fighting both her common sense and growing curiosity. He knew her. Didn't he? He had told her he remembered who she was, little familiarity there may have been between them. Then again, shortly after he had put a knife in her stomach, so June was less than optimistic about the chances of a peaceful interaction.

"Are you gonna try to kill me?" she asked, eyes like stone, gaze flitting to his left arm.

Bucky blinked. "No."

June was not convinced. "Can I trust you?"

He shifted worriedly. "I think so."

June shut her eyes for a moment, telling herself over and over that no self-valuing person would let this man into their home. But she owed Steve. She didn't think he'd appreciate her throwing his best friend back onto the streets, especially with the bounty he had over his head. Her eyes opened.

"Okay . . . okay," she huffed fretfully, looking past Bucky and out across the hall, warily making sure they were not being watched. "Get in. But if you try anything, I'll shoot you."

June pushed as much assertion into her voice as she could. She knew full well that Barnes would not let her lay a hand on him, so she hoped that a confident air would assist in getting her point across. He didn't argue, however, nor did he call her bluff. He seemed to believe her, in fact.

June moved aside and Bucky stepped into Steve's apartment. As she hurriedly closed the door behind him, June noticed the backpack slung over his shoulder.

"May I look through that, please?" she asked, holding out a hand. Bucky was still for many moments, scowl deepening and posture stiffening as his eyes searched June's face carefully. Finally, he bobbed his head in compliance. He shifted his backpack off of his shoulder and reluctantly handed it over to June. She slipped wordlessly to the couch, Bucky watching her steadily, and began to sift through the bag's contents. To her surprise, there was little inside. Though she was expecting weapons, June brushed aside only a few crumpled dollar bills, torn newspapers, and pencil stubs, finding nothing of interest save for half-a-dozen worn, leather-bound notebooks.

But as she lifted one into view, she saw Bucky flinch in the corner of her eye. June's eyes found his again, and, upon examining the tense grimace his face was twisted into, she dropped the notebook back into the backpack.

"Do you have any weapons with you?" June asked quietly, zipping Bucky's bag back up. He shook his head.

"This is it?"

He nodded. She mimicked him and remained silent for a few long moments.

"You're June," Bucky said suddenly, more of a statement of fact than a question. June stared up at him, perplexed and quizzical and meanwhile wondering what her jail time would be for harboring a fugitive like Barnes. She got over her dumbness quickly.

"Yeah," she responded. "You remembered me before. Back on Virginia Avenue. Before you stabbed me."

June didn't know what she expected to ensue by saying that. Maybe an apology. He didn't offer one. At her mention of Virginia Avenue, Barnes had suddenly paled, and his entire stature went rigid.