Good Man

I run home to get changed after a few morning meetings and appointments. In fifteen minutes, I was out of my dress and heels and into a pair of jeans, boots and a worn Johnny Cash shirt with an equally worn leather jacket over it. I take my hair down from its tightly pulled bun and let it free. I slide on bracelets and grab my aviators before sprinting out the door as 3 o’clock grows near.

When I get down to my parking garage, I see a figure standing in the shadows next to my beat up Ford pick-up.

“When are you going to get a new car?” The female voice says, before emerging from the shadows.

“Natasha, nice to see you.” I smile at the red-head. “I thought you would have taken off by now, SHIELD doesn’t exist anymore.”

“I’m officially not here,” she states, “I only came here to warn you about what you’re getting yourself into. This isn’t like when I was brought on or when Steve woke up.”

“Hill already came in contact with me before Steve and Sam sought me out.” I informed her, “I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“You don’t.” She pushes, “Erin, this isn’t a soldier coming back from battle with more scars on his psyche than his body. This is a soldier that’s gone rogue and needs to be put down. There is no good left in him.”

“This isn’t my first mission, Romanoff, I know what I’m getting myself into.” I argue. “And there is always good left in someone. I can bring him back or I’ll die trying.”

“Steve and Sam don’t know do they?” She asks, “they don’t know about you being a former SHIELD agent?”

“I never told anyone.” I reply, “to them I’m just a shrink whose grandfather was a Howling Commando. And I plan on keeping it that way. I’m only doing this for SHIELD because I want to know exactly what the Winter Soldier knows about Hydra.”

“And what will you do if he gets out of hand?”

“Take him down…”

**

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I apologize, walking up to the two soldiers. “Traffic was insane.”

“It’s fine,” Steve smiles. “You’re just on time, he just arrived too.”

“How did you know he would be here?”

“Coming here was part of my weekly routine too,” Steve replies, “he wants to find out who he is; he just doesn’t know how.”

“This may seem harsh but how do you know him?” I question, “you were frozen for over seventy years and most of everyone you know are dead or close to it. How could this soldier have known you?”

“He’s someone I thought was lost to me,” he replies as we begin to walk towards a person in a black hoodie staring at the plaque dedicated to Bucky Barnes. The hoodie is pulled over his face, hiding it from us. The person stands like a statue, unmoving but ever present. But unlike a statue, and more like a soldier, he jerks at every sudden sound. Steve frowns at his, knowing the feeling all too well.

“Hyper-vigilance is normal,” I assure him, “it’s common in people with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.”

He just nods his head, “he’s my oldest friend. I hate seeing him like this; knowing I was behind it.” My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I look up at the super soldier,

“Oldest friend?” I question. “That was Bucky, wasn’t it? I thought he died before you took down the Red Skull? My grandfather told me that story, among others about him. Steve, your friend died that day, there is no way…”

The hooded man turned towards us, finally acknowledging that we’re there. I take one look at him and my jaw drops. Aside from the jaded eyes and the weeks worth of scruff on the face and the long greasy hair; he’s the same person as the man pictured on the plaque beside him. My heart contracts, remembering all the great stories my father told me followed by all the stories and rumors I’ve heard about the Winter Soldier. This man can’t be the same; there is no way possible.

“Who is she?” The man… Bucky asks.

“A friend,” Steve replies. “You want to remember who you are, she’s the person to go to. This is Erin Dugan.”

Bucky looks at me, scanning me up and down, trying to figure out if I’m the enemy or not. For my sake, and the sake of this mission, I hope he doesn’t find me to be the enemy. I know what he’s capable of, and it doesn’t end pretty.

Notes