1964-03-31 - Spies Like Us, The Sequel!
Summary: It's been ten years, but Carol spies a familiar face in Chinatown…
Related: [http://marvel1963mush.wikidot.com/log:1953-07-21-spies-like-us:part-4]
Theme Song: Nowhere Man - The Beatles
bucky carol 


So, since New York, New York is a city of coincidences….there's that guy from Monte Carlo, more than a decade ago. The odd thing is…..he looks almost precisely as he did. No more lines on his face, no gray in his hair. It's still in that odd, too-long cut, too. The thing missing, however, is that sense of coiled energy, the predator's shadow he used to throw. He's haggling idly in decent Cantonese over the price of food at a sidewalk market stall, but clearly, his heart's not in it. He looks weary, pale eyes sunken, shoulders hunched.

*

Not too far away, a somewhat familiar voice to Bucky from the past might be speaking. Though it's a decade later, Carol Danvers still looks about the same, astonishingly enough for those tracking. At least, the legs still look the same, though now instead of a red dress it's denim jeans, as she looks far less formally dressed as she is speaking rapid-fire Mandarin with a market stall not too far away. She doesn't seem to have seen Bucky just yet, though that might soon change…

*

It makes him pause, lose the rhythm of the usual ritual. He trails off lamely, settling for a little more than he intended to. But it's decent stuff he's got in a paper bag he turns away - something hot, other that can be stored without refridgeration for later. What's a Russian assassin doing being domestic in Chinatown? Or is t his just a coincidental look-alike?

*

Carol blinks, as she sees Bucky for the first time. Recognizing him… and yet, it's a bit different than the /last/ time she saw him a decade ago. Quickly she wraps up business with the vendor she was talking to, taking her order and trailing quickly after Bucky, keeping far back enough so he hopefully won't notice… but then, tall leggy blondes aren't as common in New York as say, Los Angeles.

*

She's not a redhead. She's breaking the pattern thus far of random gingers from his past popping up. He's hurrying but not running - more the gait of a man wanting to get home and cook and eat after a long day's work than someone who really suspects pursuit. That said….old habits die hard, and he's taking a deliberately circuitous, almost spiralling path, doubling back now and again as if he'd forgotten something, or were distracted by the displays in the windows of the cheap import gift stores…..Clearly, trying to roust or shed a ail, should he have one.

*

The blonde following him doesn't /seem/ to be following him. Really. She's just this woman window-shopping. When she can be seen at all, which is infrequently… after all, she's been doing the spy thing for a decade now, and knows a thing or three. She hmms to herself, as if the efforts to break any possible trailers by Bucky are adding up to her realizing that he is probably who she thinks he is.

*

He's probably not even consciously doing it - so much of what drives him now is instinct. Training inculcated down to the subconscious level, with its push and pull even while his forebrain's damn near locked up with confusion and paranoia. This is the guy who put down a whole team of professional agents ten years ago, to get that German bastard? Slipping, slipping. And then the pattern becomes more aimless - satisfied he's not being followed, he's got the look of someone scrounging for a place to hideout for the night. The coat he's wearing is an old piece of military surplus, worn but not ragged. Not yet.

*

Of course, the last time they met, Carol didn't have all the tricks she has now. And in this case, she takes advantage, flying quietly overhead until she sees Bucky about to turn a corner. Quickly she descends, landing there so that when Bucky rounds the corner…

Carol is standing right there, a wry smirk on her lips. "You're looking good, considering that it's been a decade." She speaks in fluent Russian, crossing her arms as she regards Bucky with a skeptical expression.

*

She's greeted with blank incomprehension. There's no panic - oh, he's a little startled when she appears like that, recoiling just a hair. But he doesn't drop his bags or go for his gun. Instead, he just sort of freezes, for all the world like a mouse who's just seen the owl's shadow race past him in the moonlight. "Lady, I don't know whatcha want," he says, in English that is flawlessly Brooklyn. "Unless it's dumplings? I don't got any more money." He proffers the smaller of the paper bags, hopefully. Like he can buy her off with Chinese food.

*

Carol eyes Bucky, switching to English, her own accent giving her away as from Bahston as she says, "My memory might be bad, but it isn't that bad. Ten years ago, we met. You're looking… relatively good." She hmms, "And besides, I got my own dumplings." She raises up her bag, then looks at Bucky with a curious expression, her lips curling in an inviting smile that… well, she hadn't quite mastered /that/ ten years ago.

*

Bucky looks at them, looks at her, lets his own bag sink to his side again. The left hand's gloved in cracked black leather - must still have that bizarre prosthesis. "Well, then, it looks like you're set," he observes, mildly. Even a little disappointed. Dumplings will not work as a bribe, it seems. "Uh, I'm sorry, I don't remember," The tiniest of shrugs, a little moue of apology. "Things….uh, the memory's not so good." This was the best agent the Russians had? What happened?

*

Carol blinks, and looks… surprised, to put it mildly. She almost reaches out to Bucky then, then nods, "Well, maybe I can help with that. It was ten years ago, after all." She hmms, "You definitely have… changed. You didn't seem to be this good an actor back then." She wants to be mad, and she's still on her guard, but this… isn't even close to what she was expecting.

*

There's a hint of Mr. Winter there - the amiable expression's only a veneer over the self she remembers. ANd it dissolves into a blankness that has nothing to do with surprise. A matter of a moment or two, and the eyes…..the eyes are the same, that cold, cold anger. "I don't remember you," he tells her, again….and something in his tone makes it clear that it is likely better for her that he does not. "I don't know what you want," he says again, and now it's a challenge, tone flat. Even the accent's changing, going from Brooklyn to the kind of text-book precise English that a well-trained foreigner might learn.

*

Carol looks… actually, completely unfazed, as she just says, "Well, right now, to sit down and share some dumplings. Unless that's a problem?" She smiles warmly now, as she definitely doesn't seem to be the same young agent trying not to be over her head a decade ago. But there's more to it than that.

*

"To what end?" he asks her, not moving an inch. "How do you know me?" Apparently they're going to have this conversation on a streetcorner, because he's feeling mulish. Or disinclined to be somewhere more private with yet another person risen out of the yawning gulf that is his memory. His fingers have tensed on the bags, his stance shifted. Forebrain's confused, but the body is expecting a fight.

*

The woman sighs a bit, "Fine. Because you're a very dangerous individual, and if you're going to snap into a fit of violence I'd rather you direct it at me, because I know I can stop you." She smiles a bit, "But, I'd rather keep it pleasant, see what happened… and maybe have some dumplings. To be honest, you were an ass, but less so than most of the other people I worked with." Which is true. He didn't treat her as different just because she had great legs.

She still does, too. For the record.

*

There's a moment where he just looks bewildered again, subject to conflicting impulses - almost a moment of fugue. ARe they going to have a fight?….did the Russians break this toy before they threw it out? Then he refocusses on her and says, "You can stop me, eh? All right. Let's go eat then. Where?"

*

She considers for a few moments, then looks at the dumplings, "Well, if you like Chinese, there's a delightful little hole-in-the-wall place nearby. And they have dumplings, or just about anything else you'd want." She smiles, "Unless you had a different idea."

*

"I," says the Winter Soldier, very drily, and with a distinct hint of that old Russian accent, "Have no idea. Lead on." But that tension's starting to rise. Instincts are whispering about traps and ambushes. There's no motion or glance that betrays the location of a particular weapon, though.

*

If the Winter Soldier remembers, he might remember that Carol was too good /not/ to do the cursory check for weapons… but, in this case, she doesn't. Which probably makes things even more mysterious, as she leads the way towards the small Chinese place. Taking a seat at a window table, she looks over at Bucky, "Don't worry, dinner's on me." And there doesn't seem to be any other agents, of any affiliation, in the restaurant itself.

*

He settles with ill-concealed unease, not taking off his coat. ANd of course he's taken the seat that lets him survey the room at large, including the entraces and exits.

*

Carol leans back in her chair, looking at the menu as she keeps one eye on Bucky, studying him closely, "Well, one thing hasn't changed. You're not relaxing." She smiles faintly, hmming to herself as she studies the menu, "The pineapple duck here is very good, by the way."

*

Winter slants a look at her, over the menu, decidedly sardonic. "Keep sweet-talking me," he informs her, voice dry. "You're doing fine. What'd you say your name was, again?"

*

A soft chuckle at that, "That sounds more like you. My name is Carol. Carol Danvers." She glances over the top of her menu at Bucky, giving him a wry look. "Not quite sure what to do with you, to be honest. Aside from dinner, of course. That just seems responsible."

*

Bucky informs her, still with that deadpan, "It's not enough to get me to put out, if that's what you're wondering. I might be easy, but I'm not cheap. I can't say I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Danvers, because I don't know what your intentions are."

*

Carol snorts, "Don't flatter yourself." She glances at Bucky, "Ten years ago we were on a mission together, and you don't remember one damn thing about it. And you are… a lot different than you used to be." She mmms, "But, you earned the right to call me Carol. Be better that way."

*

His gaze is completely level - not without guile, that's a hundred percent hard-wired - but nothing shifty. Not overtly so. His throat works, and that will for verbal fencing, a flash of the person he used to be, before the war, before the scalpels, before the burning cold….is gone. He's left almost colorless again, and oddly docile. "Call me Jack," he says, flatly.

*

Carol hmms, "Alright. Jack. How long have you been in New York?" She plays along for now, but seems secretly convinced that the Winter Soldier might be just playing with her. Though the apparent lack of guile is throwing her off, it seems.

*

"I don't know." Man, he loves that answer. But he's still looking at her, rather than down at his menu. The lines in his face are more evident, that sign of strain. "A few weeks, I guess?" He shrugs….and there's that faintly metallic rasp to the movement.

*

Carol nods, "And Jack's not your real name. Just what you're calling yourself right this moment." She makes a guess there, but it's an educated one, as she looks back at "Jack" intently, continuing, "You just showed up here, a few weeks ago."

*

The waitress comes by and takes their orders. General's chicken, for James. "Well," he says, once the server's gone, "I had a lady tell me that my real name's James. James Barnes. The records seem to bear it out, those of them I can get to," He taps his water glass idly with a fingertip. "But I don't remember that."

*

Carol hmms, "We met ten years ago, as I said. It was in Europe, and we were on a… joint mission together." She keeps her voice low, so people can't overhear, though she gives James a curious look, "James Barnes? Not a bad name, though it doesn't ring any bells for me."

*

Bucky flashes a humorless grin at her. "Sadly, doesn't for me, either. But….the guy in the papers looks like me."

*

A snort from Carol erupts at that, "Well, if it makes you feel better, this you is a bit nicer than the you from a decade ago." She smirks dryly back at James, "And I suppose I have a responsibility to keep some sort of eye on you, at least for right now."

*

"Why?" he asks her, simply. There's that blankness that seems to be the equipoise between James and Winter. "I don't need your help," he tells her. It's not defiant, a mere statement of fact. "And if you know who I worked for, you know what they'll do to get me back."

*

Carol steeples her fingers, and looks evenly at James, "Yeah, I know who you worked for. And frankly, you'll need my help with /that/ whether you realize it or not, because you don't seem to want to go back to them." She pauses, arching a brow, "Or do you?"

*

Bucky regards her, oddly distant. "I don't want to," he admits, but with no real fervor. "What is it you think you can do for me?" Then he lifts a brow. "IS this an attempt to get me to defect?"

*

Carol chuckles, "Maybe it is. If you want to, anyway. Sounds like you don't want to go back, so it's either defect or go off to a little tropical island that's been undiscovered by man so far." She hmms, "And with your complexion that might not be the best notion."

*

He shows his teeth in a humorless little rictus that's only the remotest kin to an actual grin. And, despite the horror stories one hears about Soviet dentistry, they aren't a steel-enhanced trainwreck. "There's this thing called the Third World," he states, confidently. "A man skilled with a gun can always find a place."

*

The woman hmms a bit, "I suppose that's true. But it's not exactly the best existence." She shrugs, "But if you just want to stay free of them, I can help with that." A wry expression crosses her face at that, "But even the Third World winds up being us versus them, more often than not."

*

Now Buck slants her that pointed look again. "How often were we both proxies in some muddy little banana republic? Whatever piece of the alphabet soup you belong to….that's where they send the clueless new kids, same as they do with us." That 'us'…..not as sure about his defection as he's claiming. Or a deliberate slip. "But what exactly are you trying to offer me?"

*

Carol tilts her head, and sighs a bit, saying, "Too often." Then she pauses, and looks wryly at Bucky, "Honestly, I'm not sure what I /can/ offer. My current employer would love to have you come in from the cold, though. I'm pretty sure of that."

*

There's that skull-like almost grin, the skin stretched out tight over the bones beneath. "We all know what happened to Mr. Leamas, don't we?" A beat, and then, "And you have no remit to bring me in," Flat, nay, pedantic….Comrade Hyde's peeking out again. "You have no power to bargain or to offer. This is random fishing, isn't it?" He's not offended. Not exactly, anyway. "Who do you work for?"

*

Carol smiles slightly, and just says, "Not the CIA." She hmms, "But you're right, it's somewhat random fishing. And I wanted to get a feel as to what's going on, since you turning up here is… unusual."

*

"You mean," he corrects her, the grin slipping away again, "Me blundering about with no apparent purpose. The truth is….I don't know." He looks down at his plate again, one stray lock of hair falling into his face, to be brushed away irritably. Why he doesn't either cut it or at least slick it back with something is anyone's guess.

*

"Well, it isn't like you're /not/ a dangerous man, James." Carol looks at James, not exactly faking the sympathy in her voice, "Of course I'm going to want to keep a tab on you. But that's all it is. I don't intend to 'bring you in', unless I have to." She chuckles, "And it seemed like you could have someone buying dinner for you, for once."

*

There's their orders, deposited before them. Again, he lets the waitress get out of easy listening distance before he says, almost lazily, "What constitutes 'have to'?"

*

Carol gives Bucky a wry look, "Well, try not to kill anybody unless it's self-defense, but if I know you, you shouldn't have to resort to that. Oh, and don't steal the secret of New York Cheesecake for Mother Russia." She leads it into a joke again, as she is definitely /way/ too relaxed about this whole situation. Though she does sound somewhat concerned for James, "But, seriously, don't break the law in a really bad way, and I think that's all I'm worried about…" But it sounds like it might be a bit more than that.

*

There's a sort of dry thoughtfulness in his face. He takes a few bites of the chicken, the taste of it clearly not registering at all. Too used to viewing food merely as necessary fuel. Then he looks up again. "And you're just going to take my word for it? That 'm not here to facilitate whatever it is they've sent me for?"

*

Carol chuckles softly, "Not entirely, no. But you definitely seem… different, so either you learned a lot of acting in the past ten years, or else you're on the level. But I don't get paid to take unnecessary risks." She eats her duck, enjoying herself at least as she looks back at James, "So yeah, I'd be wanting to keep an eye on you. I'm sure you'd expect it regardless of what I said, right?"

*

That he doesn't like, lips pressing together, that chill stare fixed on her. Then he shrugs, with that faint, cold slither of plates beneath his coat. "I'm sure you'll try," he allows.

*

Carol just grins at that, not saying anything as she continues eating her duck. Then she takes a sip of her ice water, leaning back in her chair as she regards Bucky, finally saying, "I'm sure."

*

Challenge accepted. He works on the chicken rather grimly, as if he'd prefer this interview were to be over as soon as he can manage. "Different how?" he asks, finally.

*

She considers, then says, "It seems like there's two of you. Probably because you seem to be missing your memories, or part of them." Carol tilts her head, "You sometimes get to be the ruthless and efficient man I knew back then, but other times… you just seem lost." She finishes off her duck, then glances at James, "And as I said, if it's an act, you've gotten a lot better at it."

*

The accuracy of which assessment only earns her another shrug. "If not CIA, then who?" he asks. Another apparently idle shot. "You know who I worked for. I still don't know who you did…"

*

Carol hmms, "Ten years ago, it was the CIA… but I've gone on to different things since then." She smiles, "Don't really keep up with the old crowd as much as you might think."

*

"I don't like that answer," he tells her, blunt as his usual forms of trauma. "But….I suppose that's all you'll give me?"

*

Carol shakes her head, "That's all I can say right now James. It isn't just my secret to keep." To her credit, she does actually look apologetic.

*

He's finished his chicken - cleaned his plate, in fact. "Thank you for the dinner," he says, rising. There's no real warmth there, it's a perfunctory courtesy. But….his old self wouldn't've been bothered. Is this his real self seeping through the cracks, or just another veneer the Red Room's plastered on to him.

*

Carol nods, "Of course. And I'm sure we'll be in touch, sooner rather than later." She gives James a cautious look, "If you're not here for anything nefarious… well, I hope you find what you're looking for." She sounds like she means it, as well as the unspoken part about if Bucky IS here for something nefarious…

*

Now he's genuinely amused - a hint of that old arrogance. Spycraft isn't for girls. "I hope so, too." He shrugs once, to settle his coat, retrieves his bags….and then he's heading out into the chill spring evening. When she emerges, he's nowhere in sight.

*

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