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Seven pm had left the city of New York in bright burning hues of orange and blue.
Jessica swung herself to the top of an old apartment complex, taking a seat on the ledge of the building. She was soaked from the rainstorm that had occurred only moments before. Gathering her wet hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, she tried to take a deep breath. However, the early summer heat caused her damp suit to suction itself to her skin, making quick, shallow breaths the only thing she could manage.
Her bloody knuckles had already started to scab over. The hairline fractures in her ribs were snapping back in place. Swelling in her black eye had already gone down, meaning in an hour or two at most, it would be nothing more than a minor yellow bruise. Jessica's body in the full depths of repair mode would make sure that by tomorrow morning, the events of today never happened. She would go back to looking at how she usually looked, and her life would carry on as it normally did.
That being said, today was still today and not yet tomorrow.
Through a window across the street, Jessica watched a man crack open a beer as he turned on the news. Cell phone footage of Spider-Man appeared on screen as the newscaster relaid that once again, the day was saved by the young Avenger. She knew it would never be a reality for her. Still, Jessica couldn't help letting her thoughts slip into the idea that one day it would be her on television screens—for something good.
Jessica began to pick at her scabs on her knees to make sure they wouldn't heal completely. This would ensure that there would be a scar so she couldn't/wouldn't forget about what happened only a few moments before. It was supposed to be an easy mission. A quick in and out. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, let alone killed. Still, it happened. Jessica had made a mistake. Even though she had taken more lives than she can count, there was a distinct difference between killing someone on purpose vs. killing someone by mistake. The difference being prep.
Knowing beforehand that she was going to kill someone meant she would have more time to make herself okay with her actions. Be more okay with watching the life drain from someone's eyes as she slit their throat.
Except for today, there was no prep. Only a forced acceptance of her own actions which left a pit in her stomach.
Jessica drifting in and out of reality didn't notice that Bucky Barnes stood a few feet behind her. He approached her, slowly calling out her name. When he said her name for the fourth time, she finally turned her head back. Bucky had never seen Jessica up close in the daylight. With her hair pulled back, he saw her youth for the first time in the year that he had known her.
"You alright?"
Jessica turned her gaze back to the city in front of her, "You always manage to find me, huh?"
"I said I would, kid." Bucky took a seat on the ledge. "You're pretty far from home."
Jessica went back to picking at the skin on her knees, causing fresh blood to start trickling out.
"Usually this is when you say, 'Jessica.'"
"I'm sorry."
"Are you okay, kid?"
"Jessica." There was no spunk, spark, or endearing sarcasm in the tone of her voice. Her nimble fingers just kept picking.
"Jess, look at me."
She didn't, just let out a sharp gasp of pain. Brown chunks of skin fell down to the ground exposing the bright red and white flesh underneath. She swirled fingers around in the clear sticky goo oozing from her wound.
"You're hurting yourself."
Jessica didn't stop even when blood began to drip down from her boots.
In frustration, Bucky grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand back. Forgetting his own strength, her bones cracked in his metal palm. "Stop it!"
"I killed someone a few hours ago." Jessica didn't blink or speak with an ounce of hesitation. "She had blonde hair. And I snapped her neck. Fell right to the floor."
Bucky dropped her wrist onto his thigh, still keeping his hand on top of hers, "I'm sorry." Those words didn't hold much value. They were the only ones he knew at the moment.
"Not your fault. No one was supposed to be in the building. Just security. It's Saturday, but she was an intern. Those were her last words—"
"Christ—"
"' I'm just an intern.'" Jessica broke her typical monotone drawl.
Bucky didn't know what to say or do, other than to just keep holding her hand. He was never good at taking care of fragile things.
"If she didn't pull the fire alarm—then I wouldn't have had to—it all just got loud so fast—and I panicked—she couldn't have been much older than me—but I had to complete the mission—so I had to do—" Jessica tried to make sense of her own memories. Everything was too bright. Too out of focus. The only thing she knew to be true was the immense panic that clawed at her dry throat.
"You don't have to tell me anymore."
"Is that an order?"
"It's an order, soldier."
In a rare moment for her, she did as told.
Bucky still didn't let her hand go, only just held it tighter. He had never seen Jess look small before. Calling her kid had become a little joke between them, however at this moment, that's what Jess indeed was. Just a kid. A kid who made an awful mistake.
Granted, the error was the killing of an innocent civilian done at the hands of an individual working for HYDRA on an already illegal mission. That if she was caught, SHIELD would have had her in high-security lock-up. Whether there was the murder of a blonde intern or not—Bucky still didn't feel like he could be the one who can make the judgment between right and wrong.
"I'm going to be blunt with you Jess, because that's what you need. What you did today was a terrible thing, there is no way to sugar coat it. Now, I don't know if this was your first mistake or your 100th mistake, but what I do know is I'm sure you will make the same mistake again.
I have. I have made the same mistake working for different people, in different locations, in different time periods. I remember every single one."
Jessica closed her eyes as she put her head on Bucky's shoulder. The weight of reality made it hard for her to sit up straight on her own.
"Every. Single. One. You will too, no matter how hard you try not too. The thing is though, as much as they hurt, you will learn from each one of them. Then when you learn enough, you will try to make up for them. Not anytime soon because you are still too stubborn to play for the good guys, but you'll get there.
Like I said, I'm going to keep it honest with you—no matter how much you do, you won't ever make up for your mistakes. But eventually, you will have saved more people than you have kil—" Bucky stopped himself. "We save people. We save as many people as we can to try and make up for the ones we couldn't." Bucky stopped himself again. "Which now, as I said, I realize that doesn't make much sense. It sounded right in my head. Shit, I don't know. Barton said something like it once, and it made sen—"
"Hey, Barnes." Jessica croaked out.
"Yes?"
"Do you mind if we sit here for a little while longer? In silence."
Bucky chuckled, "Is that an order?"
"Sure is, soldier."
In a rare moment for the city that never sleeps, everything fell silent. Bucky looked off at the horizon. The sun had dropped just below, and off to the left, the moon had started to make a faint appearance.