Drive. ~James Buchanan Barnes

Chapter 9

The very next day, just after I get back from getting supplies in a convenience store, Bucky gives me a present.

"What's this for?" I ask as he hands it to me.

In my hands is the very blade he took me captive with.

"Protocol." He shrugs.

"Protocol?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets, driving with his knee, "I'm supposed to arm my handlers incase something goes wrong.  That way they'll have a way to put me down if they need to." He pauses, "Normally I'd give you a gun...but mine was waterlogged and it's basically useless."

My mouth hangs slightly open.  Not only was that the most I've heard him speak, but I'm having a hard time processing his words.  Put down? Like an animal?

"I'm your handler?" Confusion growing on my features, "I thought I was your hostage."

He blinks at that, frowning a little, "I guess you're both.  You might not even be either.  I'm giving you too much freedom to consider you a hostage at this point, and you don't seem to eager to escape.  You're not really my handler, but you're close enough."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that title..." I mutter.

He sighs in slight annoyance, "Just take it, Verity.  It will make me feel better at least."

"Why?" I ask softly.

He casts a quick glance at me, "Sometimes it takes me a few minutes to really wake up from nightmares. You saw that first hand. If I ever become too dangerous...if I don't wake up in time... you need to be able to defend yourself."

I shake my head, "You don't want to hurt me."

"No. But that doesn't mean I won't. Maybe I won't mean to, but it could still happen." He starts the car, pulling out of the lot and onto the road, "Just keep it. Just in case."

After a moment's hesitation, I slide the knife into its sheath and put the whole thing into the pocket of my hoodie.  He lets out a sigh of relief, as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

I reach into the back seat, searching.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Looking for something." I mumble as I stretch further. To my dismay, I find that it has fallen to the floor.

I unbuckle and clamber over the center console, contorting myself to reach the stray bag.

"Got it!" I say triumphantly.

Bucky shakes his head, "What was so important that you couldn't wait for the next stop?"

I smirk, rolling my eyes, "You got me a gift-"

"It's not really a gift-"

"Hush." I scold, "You got me something, but I also got you something."

I flip the console up on its end so that there's more room on the bench and scoot over, "I'll do the steering for a second. Open it."

He takes the bag from me and empties it of its contents.

"A notebook?" He asks oddly, "And pens?"

I nod, "You told me you had trouble retaining your memories. I thought maybe you could write them down."

I glance over briefly when he doesn't say anything and see him staring at the small notebook strangely. After a moment, he raises his head and looks at me.

The corners of his lips twitch up slightly, "Thank you. I think this will help."

I can only blink as he places everything back into the bag and replaces my hands on the wheel with his own.

I am slightly stunned, because I've spent the entirety of two weeks with James Buchanan Barnes.

And that was the first time I've seen him smile.