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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant	By : TheConstant1944 Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Captain America Views: 2391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter Sixty-One
The Lost Princess & Her Prince - A Day In Spring

The Lost Princess
Okay. You have an hour to do this. You can do it. You chant to yourself. You have a mission and you need to complete it before the Winter Soldier finishes his own and meets you back at the car.
You lock the car and pat your pocket to make sure that you have your phone. That way, if something goes haywire they can still contact you – and they won't have any idea that you have deviated slightly from the plan.
You cross the street and then walk up to the top of the road. As you had thought and hoped, the street you want appears before you. It has been paved over so no traffic can drive through it; it is just for the use of pedestrians and shoppers which is what you are.
You are still guessing at this point that you will be able to get what you want. The whole thing is guesswork.
The day is beautiful even though it is early Spring and you breathe in the clean fresh air. As you walk you begin to realise you had not thought this through. The shopping precinct is full of people and you are not keen on crowds. In the life you live, you see so few people.
Take a deep breath. You can do this.
As you walk, things begin to catch your eye. You had no idea that so many shops could exist. They are all crowded into one street, all bright and eager to show off their wares.
You pass what you would call a Barber, but these days they call themselves Hairdressers. The one you are now passing is called Tony's Hairdressers and there is a line of men waiting to have their hair cut, all looking at their phones whilst they wait. Everyone in this day and age seem to concentrate on their phones all the time even when out in public.Does anyone actually talk to each other face to face anymore you wonder? The one they gave you is able to make and receive telephone calls and text and that is all. You had asked Maggie why so many people stare at the small screens. Do they get that many texts? She laughed and shook her head.
“They have games on them as well,” she said, and to show you she borrowed one from a technician who handed his over reluctantly. You found it interesting...but surely wouldn't it be boring after a few minutes? The technician was offended.
In the middle of the street there is a line of trees which have yet to bud, but you can feel that spring is in the air and around the trees are daffodils and crocuses. Such beautiful colours after the confines of the base and the white and grey of the mountains. The wind is cold but crisp and you bury your hands in your pockets.
You keep an eye on the time, but you have plenty of it and so you slow down and begin to look in the shop windows at all the clothes and items that can be purchased. There is a shop that sells books. Thousands of them. How you would love to go in and browse; the covers all look so inviting! Next there is a store that sells mens' clothing and you wish you could buy something for James. What would he have liked? Fashion has changed so much during your time on this earth that neither of you would really have a clue what to buy.
Then you see the shop you want and you go up to the window to look in.
There are quite a few people in there. You turn to look around because it's so rare for you to be allowed out on your own you feel guilty. As though someone is watching you.
As you turn you notice a shop across the way and you feel yourself blush. You look around and then slowly walk over to the window, looking at the name of the shop Victoria's Secret...and what secrets it is showing! Women's underwear, but nothing like you wear. Beautiful, lacy, and so out of your realm but for a moment you allow yourself to feel envy for the women who can buy it and wear it for their loved ones. What would the Winter Soldier say if he saw you in it? For one crazy moment you actually find yourself working out if the emergency money you have on you would buy one of the sets on show and then you realise what you are doing and shake yourself.
Day dreaming is not something you can afford, no matter how much money you have on you.
You are tempted to just go back to the shop you wanted but you check the time. You still have plenty, and so you continue down the street a little further. There is another shop called 'Boots', yet it seems to sell toiletries not shoes; and then 'Mothercare,' with a window full of prams and tiny knitted clothes, bringing another pang of envy, it is a shop you will never have a need to use. And next to that is a toy shop called 'Disney's', and you look in at the window at all the toys made for the children of today.
And it stops you in your tracks.
What would it be like to have a daughter that you could take in there? Or a son? Would he look like his father? Would he look like James? For a moment there is real pain that stabs you in your heart. Children. Just what would it be like to be a normal person? To have normal desires, be married to James, have children, a house, a garden - and you have to stop there. Because it hurts.
And that is when you see her. Reflected in the window. Stood next to you. A small child. You look down to your right and she looks up at you and then away, pretending she wasn't looking at you. Her eyes are blue, wide, long blond hair in a pony tail. She is wearing a fairy dress of all things, with glittery tights, shiny shoes, and a red coat. She looks at you again, a shy glance sideways.
“Hello,” you say smiling.
And Emily thinks she is dreaming. She has been watching the tall lady with the long, ash blond and golden hair come nearer and nearer to her and now she is stood so close to her, she could reach out and touch her. The ladies long blond hair is braided into a plait and Emily is convinced – really convinced - the woman is a real live princess and she is smiling at Emily just the way princesses do. With the logic of children, Emily has another thought - maybe she is not a princess, maybe she is Cinderella? But Cinderella is a princess now her prince has found her. Perhaps this one is a lost princess? She knows a lot of tales about lost princesses and this is what they must look like!
The logic of a child never makes sense.
Her fingers are in her mouth and she pretends not to see you, and for a moment you do not know what to do. How long is it since you have seen or even spoken with a child. Especially one so young! Where is her mother? You glance around and you see a woman chatting with another woman. You look back at the girl and she points to something behind you. You turn to look which makes her laugh, and you turn back smiling. She reaches behind you and pulls your plait gently.
It is the longest plait Emily has ever seen, and feels so soft. This must be a lost princess! Her hair is so long and thick she could let a Prince climb it to the top of a tower! And she has big blue eyes and...
“Are you a princess?” she asks, and then before the lady can reply: “Do you have a prince?”
“Emily!” A voice breaks whatever spell the child is holding you in, and you look up and smile at the mother. But the woman is flustered and glares with hostility at you. She is not happy, and snaps at the little girl: “What have I told you about not talking to strangers!”
“But Mummy...” Emily wants to explain that the woman is a princess! A beautiful princess!
You try to smile but you do not know that these days it is wrong to talk to children. The woman grabs her daughter's hand and they walk off together, the little girl looking back at you sadly, and before they disappear into the crowd she gives you a little wave. You wave back and then she is gone.
“Do you have a prince?” the girl had asked you. What would you have answered?
“Yes I do, but he is held under a terrible spell by an evil empire...”
The day has grown cold and you need to remember who you are, and what you are. You turn and head back down the street to go into the shop you wanted. A moment later you have your purchase in your pocket and you hurry to get back to the car. Maybe your mission was foolhardy after all. You cannot afford to be so stupid, and by the time you get back to the car you wish you had never made the journey at all.
*
Back on the street, Emily is trying to count how many squares there are on the pavement and she knows with innate childhood wonder that she mustn't step on the lines. Her concentration is absolute until she bumps into a man who is crouched down outside of the hairdressers.
He stares at her, angrily muttering something under his breath, and she immediately hops back. She knows it is naughty of her to bump into adults, but then a curious thing happens. In the middle of his forehead, a red light appears and then his face breaks up like a broken doll's and she is splattered by what she thinks is the man spitting at her. She falls back on her bottom in surprise.
Her mother comes rushing up to her and it is then that all hell breaks loose. No-one heard the shot until seconds after it was made, and by then the man had already crumpled to the pavement.
People start to run, some screaming and crying, and Emily's mother grabs her and pulls her up and away from the dead man. She realises her daughter doesn't know what has happened.
"The man spat at me, mummy," Emily says and her mother looks around wildly, all the time pulling her daughter into a protective hug. She heads into the nearest clothes shop and grabs the first thing of the rail and swaddles her daughter in it.
Her daughter tries to shrug it off but her mother insists that she keeps it on, she doesn't want her daughter to see what is covering her favourite coat. So lucky it is red.
A shop assistant approaches with a query on her face. She can see people running down the street. She looks at the little girl and is worried when she sees she has pieces of something in her hair and blood on her face.
The mother is pale and wide-eyed but shakes her head at the assistant, begging her with her eyes not to say anything. This lady has children and knows something is not right so she tries to smile and tells the little girl how nice she looks in what her mummy has just put on her. Would she like to go out back and see what else they have?
By the time the police track the little girl and her mother down, the little girl is no longer wearing the blood soaked coat, her face and her hair have been cleaned, and a new hair band is scooping her hair back. She had insisted on a plait. She hasn't told her mother yet but she wants to grow her hair long, as long as the lost princess' plait she saw earlier.
The whole incident has passed Emily by. That night, her mother will say a prayer, not knowing how close she came to losing her daughter. Not knowing it is only through talking to the lost princess that her daughter's life was saved.
*
Her Prince
His mission is all that is on his mind. He needs to scout the area, check his gun, and be set up ready for when his target appears. He is always early and prefers it that way; he doesn’t tell them but he likes the fact that he is away from the team. He feels he can breathe.
He is on the rooftops, overlooking the street. He has a perfect view of it but no-one can see him. He has put his rifle together and is checking out the scope. He places it on the gun and then looks through it, down at the street. So many people that could be one step away from death if he so chose and they have no idea.
Something registers in the back of his mind and he finds himself swinging the scope back down the street. His heart gives a lurch.
“Freya?” he asks quietly. He would know her anywhere: the long plait down her back, her equally long legs striding down the street.
He sits back on his haunches. What is she doing down there? She should be waiting at the rendezvous point. She doesn’t even know where the hit is to take place. They never tell her. She is never in on the briefings. There is no way she could have found out he was here.
He kneels forward and finds her again in the cross-hairs now resting on her and follows the path she takes. She has slowed down and is looking in the shop windows just like all the other people. What is she thinking? Why is she here? He forgets to breathe for a moment when she looks in the hairdresser's window but then she carries on and looks in the next window. He doesn’t understand but his mind begins to calculate. He has always known he could trust her. Does this mean she is a spy in the camp? Is she working for someone else? Can the assassination still go ahead? For a split second he wonders if he should call it in, but decides not to. This is something he will sort out and if need be, he will be the one to deal with her.
She crosses to the other side of the street and he has to change his angle to continue watching her. He cannot see the shop she is looking into. She walks along, again checking her watch, and then crosses back to the side of the street with the better view and he sees her talking to a small girl dressed in red and white. The girl tries to catch Freya's plait and it makes Freya smile.
The girl's mother is not happy and pulls her daughter away but he sees the little girl wave and feels incredibly sad when Freya waves back. Why he should feel so, he doesn't know. Freya then turns back and starts to walk the way she came. She looks at her watch and obviously realises that time has moved on and suddenly she is all business again and is striding back down the street. He follows, knowing he will lose her soon as she turns the corner, heading back to where she is meeting him later.
However, she takes him by surprise and goes into a shop a couple of doors down from the hairdressers where his target will be exiting in about fifteen minutes. He watches. A few moments later she comes out holding a small white bag folded over, about 4” by 4”. She looks around and then stuffs the bag in her pocket and then a few minutes later disappears around the corner.
So, has she been sent by someone to pick something up - and if so, is it for Hydra? Or has another party sent her? His heart is racing and he realises his palm is sweaty. This shouldn't happen, it has never happened before on a mission.
He sits back on his haunches, considering the possibilities. In every single one he sees her guilt and wonders what is in the the package. Why did she furtively shove it in her pocket? And what is it?
He is unaware of it but his face becomes grim. His paranoia begins to surface and he knows the end result can only be him having to put a bullet in her brain. He is angered by the way that makes him feel but before he can think any more the phone in his pocket bleeps with a incoming text. The target is on schedule and everything else clears from his mind.
His mission.
The man will have gone into his barbershop for his usual weekly trim and should be exiting soon. The Winter Soldier lines up his shot so he can catch him as he comes out of the doorway. Everything slows and he can see the pavement and doorway through the scope.
As the doorway darkens with a shadow, he recognises his target but at that moment his target chooses to crouch down to tie up his shoelace. The Winter Soldier refocuses on the crouched man and his finger tightens on the trigger but without warning the little girl who had tried to hold onto Freya’s plait enters his sights. She is totally oblivious to the man crouching down outside of the hairdressers and almost bumps into him.
Normally the Winter Soldier would have taken the shot and not even considered the girl; the bullet would have gone through her to hit the target but something makes him hesitate for a split second. That is all it takes for her to jump back, and then he presses the trigger and watches as the man's forehead breaks apart.
The Winter Soldier moves back so no one can see him and starts to take his gun apart, ready to move. He takes no notice of what is happening down on the street. He can hear the screams but his mind is now on the next part of what he has been told: the exit plan.
The car is where it should be. He pops the boot and lowers the holdall into it, shuts it, and then he climbs into the car. All the way back to the car he had been watching for anything out of the ordinary, any trap but he sees nothing.
He nods at Freya but doesn’t look at her. She starts the car and pulls out. If they are stopped they will look like a normal couple out for a shopping trip. He glances around the inside of the car but there is no sign of the small white package.
He isn't going to ask her anything. Not yet. She is quiet, she knows he will not talk about his mission and really there is not a lot else for the two of them to talk about and she drives to where they are to meet the others.
*
Later that afternoon after mission report, he returns to his rooms. He did not tell them about Freya and that information is still held in his mind, still accessible to him. Whilst he showers she says she will make them a drink. He is not very hungry and nor is she; they will both eat later. She finds it difficult to think that only four hours ago she was in a completely different part of the world, out in the fresh air, and now she is back under the mountain, not knowing when next she will see the seasons, hear the birds, and feel some sense of freedom again.
When he comes out of the bathroom he sits at the table in the kitchen and she places a hot drink for both of them on the surface. She seems a little nervous. He looks back at her and she tries to smile. She then moves over to her jacket hung on the back of the door and fiddles about. He is watching her like a hawk. He knows what she is going to bring out but he doesn’t know what it is. His right hand moves so he can hold the gun he slipped under the table.
She turns back to him and sits back at the table. The small white package is in her hand.
“I know I shouldn't have...but I bought this. Please don't tell anyone,” the words all come out in a rush as she unfolds the bag. She keeps her voice quiet, hoping it will not be picked up on any recording devices that may be planted in the room.
He is confused. He wasn't expecting this to be such a mundane thing.
She has bought him a present.
“My father is....was English, and this was his favourite. When my mother was unwell he used to ask me to bake it for him. It's called Flapjack." She is holding a square of some type of biscuit or cake. It looks like it is made from hardened oatmeal. There are two pieces of it.
He doesn’t know whether to laugh or shoot her for the scare she has given him.
He lets go of the gun and rests his hand on the table instead. He doesn’t say a word because he doesn’t know what to say.
“I know we're not supposed to have anything like this but I thought just this once...” She looks at him, and then breaks the first piece of Flapjack in half; offers it to him.
Poisoned? he thinks.
She can almost read his mind and her smile vanishes. She breaks a bit off and puts it in her mouth and chews.
“It's okay. I haven't poisoned it.” She means it as a joke, but he is serious.
He takes a piece, studies it and then, because he trusts her more than he knows, he puts it into his mouth.
“My father said it was the only thing he missed about England but I knew he was joking. I think he missed it more than we knew,” she says.
The Soldier cannot believe how good it tastes and cannot help but take another lump. Because he is so quiet she thinks she needs to explain in more detail.
“He came over to Russia to teach English and fell in love with my mother. It wasn't possible for her to go back to England with him so he married her and stayed in Russia. They loved each other very much.” Her eyes have misted as she thinks about them, wondering how their lives were once she had been taken away. Deep down she knows neither of them would have missed her. They would have resumed their daily routine, her father looking after her mother, loving her no matter what because she was his world. Perhaps it was a good thing that she had never become a mother herself. Perhaps she would have made her child just as unhappy and unloved as they had made her.
The Winter Soldier studies her as she talks. He doesn’t think he has ever known anything about her; he thinks she must have loved her parents very much. He can tell by the way she speaks about them. He doesn’t know the truth. She did love them but she was more the parent than they ever were.
They finish the Flapjack and he can see she is getting ready to clear up and this is an opportunity he doesn’t want to miss. He hasn't said a word until now.
“How did you and I meet?” he asks.
He sees the shock of the question in her eyes and the way she tries to hide it and draws back. He doesn’t drop his gaze but continues to look at her.
Her smile has gone. The age-old dance, she thinks.
She looks away and he can see she is trying to think of what to say. He doesn’t repeat himself, just waits for her to answer.
“You were a soldier and I was a nurse. We met in a hospital field camp where you were brought in when you were injured,” she says, and he can see she is telling him the truth.
“We fell in love?” he asks.
That makes her laugh and she looks at him amused. “No, I fell in love, you...you, I think, loved someone else.” He can see it has hurt her to tell him that.
“Who?”
She shrugs and picks up the plate and goes to stand up but he stops her.
“Who was I?” he asks.
“A soldier.” She shrugs.
He is quiet for a moment.
“But I'm not Russian,” he says and she knows what he is implying. “What was my name?” He sees the fear in her eyes immediately and his grip on her hand increases. He won't let her go. He doesn’t realise the fear is for him and what the truth would do to him.
She shakes her head and tries to pull away.
“What's my name?”
“Please let go, you're hurting me,” she says.
“Tell me! Tell me my name!”
She looks at him, her eyes clouded with such sorrow.
“The Winter Soldier,” she says quietly.
He studies her and can see she cannot tell him. He is in no doubt she knows but she will not tell him even if he threatened to kill her.
“I always hurt you don't I?” he asks, still holding onto her. “Why do you stay with me?”
“Because I love you,” she replies. And because you are my Prince.
He lets her go, he knows that tomorrow they will wipe away what she has told him. His mission is complete and tomorrow they will both be asleep.
He wonders if it is all worth it. Hydra talks about freedom for the world but they cannot allow him his freedom, his memories. They will not even let him keep one thing. Why? He watches her clear away; he knows now he was wrong to doubt her. He had never thought about the life she lived...or had he, and they had taken that memory away to?
His head begins to hurt and she can see it in his eyes, is expecting it because of the questions he has asked. He has been out too long.
He feels her hands on his shoulders and she starts to massage the muscles.
“Don't think. Don’t let them hurt you any more than they do,” she whispers and he feels her long fingers work on the tension.
He was wrong. Hydra has let him keep one thing after all.
The date is the tenth of March. It means nothing to him but it does to her. They were both born on the same date four years apart. It is his birthday and he will never know it. She wanted to buy him a cake; just a little thing different to what he normally has. She did not realise it would cost her so dearly.
*
In an office Freya has never seen but suspects exists, a soldier sits back after listening to the conversation between the woman and the Winter Soldier. For a while he had been concerned.
If she had answered the Winter Soldier's questions it would have meant serious trouble. Luckily for both of them that she hadn't, although he thinks it is probably not due to luck. After all the sessions he has heard between the Soldier and his Constant he knows she will not cause the Winter Soldier any more harm than she can help.
He finishes up the night's communique.
'Nothing of interest to report,' and signs it.

***
Authors Note:
And for anyone who has not been fortunate enough to eat a piece of Flapjack and would like to have a go at making some here is the recipe:
Makes 8 -10 pieces
Ingredients:
175g rolled or porridge Oats
50g brown or Demerara sugar
2 level tbsp golden syrup
75g butter (unsalted is best)
1. Grease a shallow baking tin approx. 18cm (can be square, oblong or round)
2. Melt the butter, sugar and syrup gently in a pan and then add the oats – do not overmix or you can lose the texture of the oats.
3. Turn the mixture into your tin and press firmly down with the back of a spoon.
4. Cook at 180c or GM4 for approx 20 minutes, until golden brown.
5. Allow to cool slightly then mark into fingers or squares, wait till cooled completely and then turn out onto a wire rack and either break or cut into your portions.
If you would like a more 'gooey' Flapjack add a bit more syrup. You can also add raisins, sultanas or cherries. Some people like them with dessicated coconut or covered in Cadbury's chocolate.
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant