Chapter Text
Six Months Before the Void
“Sergeant Barnes, if you would just give me a chance –,”
“A chance to do what, exactly?” Bucky asked, turning to face the young woman who had –for the better part of an hour –been following him through the charity event.
“Help with your campaign!” She explained, throwing her hands in the air. “Sir, you’re an icon. A legend . So it genuinely pains me to say this. But you suck at talking in front of the camera.”
He stared at her for a long moment, considering what she was saying. Okay, sure –he wasn’t great at interviews. But he was polling better than everyone else running against him. That had to mean something, right? He rolled his neck, pushing aside an annoying tingle that had shot up his spine.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she continued, stepping in front of him, putting her hands up as if she could stop him from leaving. “You’re thinking that you’re polling better than everyone else running against you, and that has to mean something.”
Bucky’s brow furrowed. “How did –,”
“And it does mean something –but it won’t if you don’t learn how to address the public. The whole ‘man of the people’ schtick gets old fast when it’s less endearing and more ‘is this man actually qualified?’”
He doesn’t have time for this, he decided, shaking his head. Then he reached out to just move her –something he didn’t really like doing, but she was too persistent and kind of annoying, so he needed her to go away.
“I’m not going away!” She exclaimed, ducking away from his touch –as if she anticipated it. “Also don’t manhandle people –sir, do you realize how bad that looks? Like, our mayor does enough of that.”
“How are you doing that?” He demanded, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side. Though his grip wasn’t tight –he didn’t want to hurt her.
“Doing what?”
“Can you read my mind ?” He demanded again, glaring down at her.
“I mean…,” she dragged out the phrase, making a ‘maybe’ sort of motion with her hands. “Listen, I told you I knew what you were thinking. But that’s not all I can do –and I can use it to help you.”
“Why on earth would you want to use your superpowers to help me run for Congress?”
“Because I actually think you can do good for Brooklyn,” she insisted, and Bucky swore that she was being genuine. “I am being genuine, sir. I care about my city. And I do think you can do a lot more than most can. But you need a public relations specialist and I am really good at my job. Theoretically, at least.”
“Theoretically?” He asked, frowning deeply.
“I mean, you would be my first client because I finished my Master’s like right before the Blip then disappeared technically, but I know I can be really good at my job if you just give me a chance. Please. I’ll even do it for free!”
“I’m not –you’re not doing it for free. I’ll pay you –,”
“ Yes !”
Present Day –D.C.
“Any word on our friend?” Bucky asks, glancing at his PR specialist slash assistant slash…well, everything, really.
He isn’t sure how to describe the young woman who stood next to him, because she’s a jack of all trades at this point in his very short Congressional career. She started off managing his social media and helping his public image before the election. Bucky had to give credit where credit was due: the girl is good at her job. Her speech writing skills are solid. She keeps his message and support consistent. She even managed to get him less stiff and weird on camera. She keeps him on schedule and pushes him through things he doesn’t want to do, with both a smile and a snarky comment that lightens his frustrations.
Her abilities came in handy quite a bit in these tasks. Between reading the minds of the people around her –knowing what they wanted, how they felt –and being able to project positive thoughts into a crowd…well, Bucky is glad she was so persistent six months ago.
But then she had a run-in with one of his opponents supporters, showing up to work disheveled and frustrated.
“It’s nothing,” she had insisted, “Just some asshole who thinks I’m a monster for helping you.”
Bucky decided that he could teach her a few things too.
She was a fast learner, and a willing student. If she got knocked down, she got up again and immediately sought feedback and improvement. While she’s no super soldier, she is able to hold her own if she needs to —after a few months. Bucky taught her how to handle a weapon or two, she taught him how to use Twitter and TikTok (which he hated, but damn did it help his numbers). It’s a good partnership.
The latest lesson is a bit of espionage –nothing super intense. Bucky is working on how to get Valentina Alegra de Fontaine impeached –and while his assistant was a great asset in confirming that Valentina was, in fact, guilty…well, the public doesn’t know he has a mutant in his employment. And while Bucky has no issue telling anyone, she does –and it isn’t his secret to tell.
“None of my family knows,” she explained over a beer one night after another charity gala. “I don’t…It’s not something I need anyone to know. I already know what everyone thinks; I don’t need them to start thinking specifically about me too. I don’t think I could handle it.”
“Her assistant –her name is Mel –is on the fence about her boss,” she explains, clicking away at her phone as she sends him over her notes. “I tried talking to her but she pretty much immediately beelined for the door when I got closer.”
“Who's the unapproachable one now?” He jokes, grinning down at her as he grabs a champagne glass for both of them.
She snorts in response, taking a sip of the bubbly he hands her. “Still you, sir.”
“Fair enough,” he agrees, nodding some as he looks around the room. “Anything else?”
“She’s getting rid of any and all evidence of O.X.E and something called Project Sentry,” she continues, though she’s hiding her lips behind her glass. “I couldn’t figure out what that was –I’m sure something ratchet.”
“Ratchet?” He asks, frowning deeply.
“Terrible,” she offers.
Her and her millennial slang. He couldn’t understand it half the time.
“I’ll try to get closer –,”
“Don’t,” he interrupts, stepping in front of her. “Cool it for the night. I have some angles that I can work with; I need you to do what you do best now.”
“Get people to think you’re not a weird old man from the forties?”
“...yes.”
“Can do, sir.” She salutes him, grinning up at him.
Bucky shoos her away, shaking his head, then heads off to locate Congressman Gary about his findings.
She sees coordinates.
She knows she promised Bucky she wouldn’t get closer to Valentina, but she never promised she wouldn’t pay attention to Mel.
“I know you’re avoiding me,” she comments as she slips behind Mel with a polite smile and glass of champagne. “I don’t know why . I thought we were like…I don’t know, two peas in a pod. Assistants to weirdly powerful people –,”
“Oh, I’m not –,” Mel starts but bites her tongue. “I’m not avoiding you. Just super busy. You know, being an assistant to a weirdly powerful person.”
She nods, sipping her drink thoughtfully. But Mel is focused on her tablet again, and the coordinates are flashing in her mind as she looks at a name –John Walker. U.S. Agent. Dime store Captain America. She makes a face behind her glass, unable to help it.
The same coordinates flash again, indicating that Walker was being sent somewhere to get rid of someone named Belova in Utah.
She hums as she jots down the coordinates in her phone, fully intending to send them to Bucky.
“Well, well –finally, I get the pleasure of meeting the little girl who’s made our junior congressman remotely functional,” Valentina announces from behind, catching her off guard. “You know, you could do a lot better.”
She smiles politely, though she wonders if it looks as forced as it feels. “I don’t think I could, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Valentina hums, bumping shoulders with Mel, who looks painfully uncomfortable. Her thoughts are loud. What is she doing? She literally told me not to talk to this girl. Why is she talking to her? What’s her angle? Is she trying to fire me? Do I want to be fired?? “Could work with us –I bet your skills would do wonders.”
She narrows her eyes at the inflection –at the implication –in Valentina’s tone. “I think you have an excellent assistant already, Ms. de Fontaine –,”
“Oh, I don’t need another assistant. Mel is perfect ,” though her tone sounds…alarmingly poisonous. “You, though…you could be so much more than just Bucky Barnes’ pretty assistant.”
“I am more than that, ma’am,” she argues, narrowing her eyes.
“I think you have the potential to be a hero,” Valentina continues, ignoring her. “Think about what you could do with those powers of yours.”
“I don’t –,”
“Oh please,” the director of the CIA interrupts. “Number one, it’s obvious that you can read minds. You know way too much and have almost no contacts in D.C. Just because everyone else in this room is oblivious doesn’t mean I am. Number two, you have an actual talent –something that can literally calm down the worst of the worst without even touching them. Think about what you could do with that.”
She opens her mouth to say something, but stops herself. Valentina is manipulating her. She knows that the director is. It’s obvious, and Valentina isn’t even trying to hide it.
“I’m making an impact here,” she says, though she’s not half as confident as she was before.
“Are you, though?”
“More so than a woman experimenting on humans and destroying the evidence.”
Valentina laughs –well, snorts really, because her laugh is not from amusement. “Shit, you know. I thought I could get you. That’s unfortunate. Now you’re just a liability.”
Her brow furrows and as she’s about to call out –for Bucky, for someone –there’s a high pitched screeching in her ears and everything goes fuzzy. She curses out loud as Valentina calls for help –as someone helps her up and leads her away. She can’t hear what’s going on –she can’t see what’s being presented to the crowd. But through blurry eyes, she can see Bucky trying to make his way through the crowd.
She’s blacked out before she knows if he’s going to help her.
Her head hurts.
That’s all she can focus on.
There's a dull ache in her skull like someone took a screwdriver and tried to scramble her brain through her ears.
The pain, however, is overcome by the sound of gunshots echoing in an empty room.
She rolls over, bumping into a crate or something, and tries to push herself onto her knees. There’s yelling and gunshots and she’s barely able to think let alone move. But she manages to get herself sitting up, eyes screwed tight as she presses her head into the crate behind her. She needs to get her bearings. She needs to figure out where she is and she needs to call Bucky because she fucked up and now she’s probably in danger and –
“It’s getting kind of tense out there,” a voice whispers –trembling, soft.
But she’s not expecting anyone to be so close to her and she screams out, throwing herself away from him.
The gunshots stop, and there’s a silence for a moment as the weapons shift towards her and this man she doesn’t recognize. Though, she’s certain that even if she could see properly without feeling like her brain was bleeding, she wouldn’t know who he is.
“And who are you?” Someone asks, and she can hear footsteps coming closer.
She tries to mask herself –hide from whatever is probably going to kill her –but the moment she even considers her powers –there’s another violent jolt down her spine and she cries out in pain.
“Oh,” the man above her says, putting his hands up. “I’m –I’m uh, Bob. I don’t –well, I don’t know who she is –,”
“Don’t involve me in this,” she hisses as he points to her, though she looks up as John Walker peers down at her. She glares at him through squinted, bloodshot eyes.
“Aren’t you…Bucky’s assistant?” He asks, holstering his gun.
She nods once, swallowing hard. “Yeah…yeah, I am.”
“How the hell did you both get in here?” the Russian asks.
“I don’t remember,” Bob admits, still trembling some as he looks down at her on the floor. “I found her like that –,”
“I think I was kidnapped,” she explains as Walker offers her a hand to stand. She slaps it away and slowly pushes herself up. “Fucking Valentina –,”
“So just to confirm,” the Russian begins. “Valentina sent…all of us here, to kill each other. Plus two civilians?”
“I think she sent me here to get killed,” she offers, leaning against the crate to hold her up. “I, uh, can read minds and shit.”
“Ah, okay. Liability,” the Russian confirms, as if it was obvious. “Doesn’t explain Bob though.”
“Wait, you guys were sent?” He asks, and she’s taking a breath and finally finds herself focusing a little better.
She glances at Bob now, taking a moment to finally look at him. He’s in scrubs, disheveled and confused. She, probably inappropriate for the moment, thinks he would be kind of cute if he was a little more cleaned up. Or least not in scrubs.
There’s not a chance in hell she can read his thoughts –her brain is still a mess. She tries to focus her gaze, blinking away the fuzziness that had overwhelmed her. Things were getting clearer; their thoughts —though still fragmented and scrambled like a TV without signal —were finally breaking through. He’s standing there barefoot and it's hard to believe that he wasn’t just… here already. He seems too confused to have snuck in, and more importantly too scrambled.
“I don’t think it matters, really,” she finally says, standing up straight. “We need to get out because Valentina is absolutely trying to kill all of us.”
“Okay, these two —yeah, I get it,” Walker argues, motioning to the Russian —Yelena— and the other woman —Ava —she’s gathered. “But I’m a decorated war vet. I was Captain America —,”
Bob suddenly laughs, and the sound feels almost unnerving in the situation they’re in. She turns to him, his fragmented thoughts loud and…and scary .
Walker isn’t amused. “What’s so funny, Bobby?”
Some thought —or maybe emotion —flares up in Bob but he just laughs uncomfortably again.
“You keep saying you’re Captain America,” he explains, wringing his hands.
“And why is that funny ?” Walker presses and his thoughts are getting louder now too.
“It’s just…you’re an asshole.”
For a moment, there’s silence. Walker looks mortified and angry. Yelena is clearly holding back her laughter while Ava is more focused on getting the hell out. But Bob is laughing —boyish, timid, and dare she admit it, kind of cute. And she can’t help but laugh now too.
“Oh, god. He’s got such a point. God bless you, Bob, thank you so much for seeing things clearly,” she agrees, putting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “Walker’s literally the worst.”
There’s a moment. The room shifts, like how it shifts when she uses her powers. But it’s darker, and she’s familiar with her room she’s standing in. It doesn’t last though. As she’s trying to figure out where she is, it shifts back.
And suddenly she’s back in the vault, hand on his shoulder, and everyone staring at her like she’s lost her goddamn mind. Maybe she has, because she’s worried she’s accidentally lost control. And that’s never happened before. She’s usually in far more control —but she chalks it up to anxiety and shakes herself out of it. She didn’t mean to do it; it wasn’t on purpose. Bob does seem a bit put out by it though; blue eyes wide as he stares at her like he’s done something wrong.
“Sorry, I —,” he starts, but an alarm goes off, interrupting her thoughts and she drops her hand from Bob’s shoulder.
“We need to get out of here,” Yelena states, pointing to the clock on the wall. “We find the console that controls the barrier, Ava can get through and open it from the other side. Once we’re out, we split up, we find an exit. Walker, keep assistant girl and Bob alive.”
There’s arguing, and their thoughts are getting louder as she’s finally coming into focus again. She wants to argue and remind them what her name is but it seems redundant at this point, given she’s probably going to die.
Oh. Oh god. She’s actually going to die. She’s actually enough of a liability that someone wants her dead and she’s going to die in a vault underground, with a bunch of assholes and some guy named Bob . Her hand grabbed at her chest, trying to ease that panic as she fell against another crate, sitting down and breathing hard.
“I’m going to die because I’m too good at my job,” she mumbles to herself. “God, what the fuck?”
“You’re not going to die,” Walker insists as Yelena shouts out in discovery. Walker turns his attention to the Russian, hurrying over to smash the controls in with his shield.
“We might die,” Bob offers, as if that was reassuring. He sits beside her, hands in his lap as he picks at the skin around his nails. “It’s fine, I think.”
Another yell of triumph and they both watch as Ava phased through the walls, finding an escape. If she wasn’t so scared of death, she would have been wholly impressed. Bob patted her shoulder awkwardly —though she pulled away.
“Don’t —I don’t want to accidentally make you see my thoughts,” she explains, frowning deeply as he drops his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Bob. I just —I don’t want to freak you out.”
“Oh,” though he doesn’t really seem to understand what she means.
“Come on!” Walker suddenly screams, hitting the door. “Where the hell is she!”
The two civilians stand, moving to stand behind Yelena and Walker. The timer is counting down and the thoughts around her are…alarmingly accepting of their fates. Walker and Yelena both seem to be totally fine if this is where the line ends for them. And Bob…well, his thoughts are still fragmented and confusing, but he seems just as willing to die down here as the other two.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, covering her eyes. “You’re all suicide risks.”