Justice Is Not Blind

Justice Is Not Blind

            “I only—pretend. To              be smart. In fairness.”

God, trying to joke around with a hole in her chest was tough, but it was the best defense to mask how scared she was. It hurt. It hurt as  much  as  Odessa,  the  Winter  Soldier blasting a hole in her gut and decimating one of her kidneys. But she had to concentrate or she would slip from consciousness and likely stop breathing altogether.

Being pulled in against him drew a strangled sound from her throat, but she did her best to cling onto whatever bit of Steve’s suit had enough give.

           "Let’s get out of here."

                                     "You make it sound easy."

Easy, gripping her waist, a steady hand only a second he needed to pull her closer and tightened his grip around the shield  before he was darting out of their. The rain of bullets be damned; he needed out. Ducking, dodging what he could, only feeling the air of  bullets running ask the areas of his suit that had been cut open earlier by attack. 

                     "--- Hang on, Nat."

It almost felt like they could call each other friends, at least for this evening; neither of them wanted to be who they were, tonight, and given that they both felt that way, then they could respect the other’s wishes, no pressure there. TJ never wanted to be who he was, he certainly wasn’t what the press made him out to be, with their desire to constantly fuck him up even more than he already was. He wanted to forget. And honestly, it kind of helped, that even Captain America didn’t want to be himself, sometimes. When it came down to it, they were both just men.

          “I can usually drink everyone under            the table, but it’s kind of different            when you can’t even get drunk. You            might have to stop me, but I promise.”

                           "I'll be your eyes.                              Don't worry, when                              you can't even hold                             the glass, I'll know to                             stop you."

Whatever reasons TJ had to forget his own name wasn't his story to press. He was here as Steven G. Rogers, trying to enjoy his night with a new pal, TJ. No last name, no history, no name to the faces. To guys just trying to loosen themselves for the night. Passing a smile back at the younger, he gave a salute: lifting his own glass and giving a nod towards him.

 Nobody’s got that flag in 17 years!

his comment about another member of her family, made the blonde eye’s  widen. surely  he meant  nothing  by it but she  took  some  offense to it. her smile  slowly fading, her face  went from relaxed to  annoyed in an instant. it was a low blow — whether he meant it or not.

            ❝ things have changed cap & sometimes the                   only  way  to  fight  something  is  to  stand                   your ground from the inside. ❞

sharon knew it was best not to dwell on anything that would strike a silly  &  petty argument. instead she cleared her throat, listening  as to why it seemed as if he was in the shadows. they both didn’t need to vocalize it. they both knew everyone was out after him. mainly those to ties with hydra. she wasn’t sure what his reasons were  for searching for the winter soldier, but she surely wasn’t going to pry.

            ❝ well you’ve been doing a pretty good job at                    staying  off  the  radar. how’s  your  search                     going? any leads so far? ❞

She was riled easily; though, he wasn't entirely sure what set her off. Hands up, a surrender,  before they were going to another argument.

                         "No harm meant, agent.                           I know what it means to                           stand your ground."

His search has been more of a walk on loop. Bucky wasn't going to come out of his shell  anytime soon and if he went back to HYDRA, they weren't barking up his location either.  Not with the past near hundred agents Sam and him narrowed and interrogated. Gritted teeth and dried blood peeling on his knuckles was his weekend. 

                                        "Could be going better.                                           Hard to track a ghost." 

He doubted this surprised her, it shouldn't. The Winter Soldier was known for his unknown locations and more of his random appearances. It would be harder than he anticipated to have him locked down anytime soon.

            "DC's been quiet               since the fiasco, hasn't it?"

Gold, Crystals and Pride

He doesn’t know what’s stopping him from crossing the room to Steve; he knows, after all, that he’s actually here, and safe, and the fact that he’s spent so long worrying about him should mean he’s hugging him as a welcome home — platonic, not, whatever. But TJ stays where he is, bringing the cigarette to his lips again. It’s a reassuring movement.

               ”I grew up here, remember? I know this                  goddamn building like the back of my                  hand.”

Steve looks good, and not just because he’s alive, although that’s obviously an important factor. He  watches him come closer and still doesn’t hug him, or do anything but stand there and smoke, but he’s smiling, and he looks relieved, so that’s something. But he looks more relaxed now in the couple of minutes he’s been in this room, and that’s saying something; Steve isn’t, it appears, at ease with the  press either. TJ doesn’t blame him — he hates the press.

The question makes him look down, and TJ shrugs; Steve knows he hates talking about his feelings, and since a large portion of those feelings have been taken up with worry that he can’t mention because he doesn’t want to make Steve feel guilty—he’s not really sure how to answer. TJ feels awkward, and it’s so dumb, because this is Steve. A good guy. Someone he’s entirely at ease with. Fucking hell, Hammond.

               "Y’know, the same. Fine, I guess. How ‘bout                  you? Or is it so classified you can’t tell me?”

Steve understood the other's need of space  even when they had been apart for so long. That's the trade-off that came with TJ. He never knew what to expect and knew exactly  what to get from him. Watching him, he  returns to tracing at the engraving of the center piece table. The perks of living in the most known building in America, he supposed.

                             "Then show me what you know, TJ."

Eyes going back to TJ, he tilted his head,  only stepping forward innocently to trace along the other side. This was better than playing hero with the crowd already trying to track him down. Luckily enough he'd gotten away from the President and the Ex-President, but it didn't make it easier with the press on his ass. 

Approaching him at the other's reaction, Steve only picks at the cigarette between his fingers, twirling it for a second before taking a drag for himself. They both knew it wouldn't do anything to him, but it was fun to waste the other's tobacco, especially with how much TJ huffs at the sight of it being used. He passed it back with a shrug for himself. 

                            "The same, too. Being Captain America                              isn't as great as I might show it is."

Classified wouldn't even be the word. More like seeing the world and how torn apart it was with the rain of bullets to back up their concerns.  It was Hell. Steve was more than exhausted to be thrusted back into the field of Death to watch good men on both sides be bled by confusion  and misunderstanding, only fueled by complete hatred of the other. 

More like, it was just something he didn't want to talk about. 

                           "How about I tell you when you give me                            a tour?" 

       ”—I don’t need nothing other than        to tidy the couch f’you”

The room swaying, one moment at the door frame and the next against the other, TJ found himself blinking back into awareness and staring at the arm around him. Clumsy hands pushed at Steve until he could scramble free, manoeuvring out into the living area and towards his destination.

       A snort in reply,        the items on the couch flung off        TJ murmurs coldy the reply under his breath.

             ”Hurt myself ‘nough”

He spins back, holds out his arm and pats one of the spots, grins like it’s all fine.

       ”I can get you a blanket, if y’want”

The effort the other was exerting to simply get to the couch was enough to make Steve cringe. He could do it, but in this condition, he'd probably hurt himself more in the  process of just getting to it. Being shoved away, he proceeded to follow behind, giving enough room to show he wouldn't interfere in the other's cleaning.                                 "S'not a good thing to hurt yourself."

Mumbled words, eyes watching each object be hurled away from his bed for the night before it was cleared enough for him. Shaking his head, he approached the other, taking the other hand and helping him steady.                   "I'm good. You need                    sleep though."

                        “Oh, I don’t know — maybe because                          everyone else has. Maybe because                          I have.”

He has vague memories of fights — dragging Steve out  of danger, and he wants to think ‘again' like it's happened  before, but he has no idea how many times. He doesn’t remember them. He barely remembers the one. It’s that  and a few other blurred memories, and that’s all he has. 

                       "And I'm not everyone else, Buck."

He didn't care. No, that was entirely true.  He did care for Bucky. But, for those who had already given up for him, Steve couldn't give a damn. "You'll have me. Even if you don't think you'll need me, I'll be here Buck, just like I've always been."