Chapter 1 - Pizza

Beatrice was beginning to feel the weight of her day crush down on her.

The day hadn't started well, with her phone running out of battery causing her phone to die and her alarm to not alert her, meaning she was late to wake up. This resulted in her having to miss breakfast, which she knew would leave her feeling hungry for the rest of the day. Her quick rush led her to leave her cell phone on her bedside table where it would remain charging for the rest of the day.

Her day only worsened during her journey to work, where she was even later. Yesterday's fall of the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers resulted in an enormous queue of traffic from her apartment to work She knew she was already risking getting to work late when she left, and after sitting in traffic for the past half an hour she was sure if she had walked to work she would have arrived quicker.

In all honesty, she was surprised her car hadn't broken down yet. That would royally screw up her day.

Finally, she rushed into the clothing store. Her heels dragging behind her as she hastily pinned on her name badge, pricking herself in the finger. Barely passed the threshold and into the lovely air continued space, her boss took hold of her arm.

"Where have you been?" He questioned, crossing his arms sternly. "It's almost been an hour since you should have clocked in."

"The traffic-"

"I understand the traffic's bad at the moment, but you could have at least called," he shook his head as if telling a child off for having stolen from a cookie jar. Bea shrugged her shoulders, defeated. If only she had taken her phone.

"I accidentally left my phone at-,"

"Excuse after excuse. If this continues we may start evaluating your worth to this company. Consider this warning." her boss finished and stalked off, probably to go kick some puppies.

It wasn't as if they were busy! The helicarriers falling out of the sky might have had an impact on people's shopping plans. Sulking over to the stock floor, she grabbed a load of jeans and began folding them. Yet another day in paradise.

She didn't think it was fair how her boss had spoken to her. Yes, she had been late this morning, but it was rare when Bea didn't turn up on time. She thought a literal attack on the city might have given her some leeway. Overall her working performance was pretty good. She got the job done with only mild complaining. She had never had a single customer complain about her and… she was damn good at folding those jeans.

The rest of her day carried on as normal. Although her normal still sucked. She had five customers in total, asking her to go up to the stock room to check if they had the same leather jacket. Five times. The first time she actually checked. The next three times the customers insisted (despite telling each of them they didn't have the leather jacket in stock), so she pretended to have a look but instead spent a minute or so having a conversation with the cleaner. The final time a customer asked she went straight up to the restroom and gave herself a five-minute break.

When closing time came Bea was about ready to grab her bag and run when her boss told her it was her turn to stay behind and close up. Mumbling a complaint under her breath she stayed behind waiting for the last customers to leave and received a warning from her boss telling her not to be late next time. Then she was left alone.

It always felt so big when alone in the store. When customers were busy bustling about, Beatrice hardly noticed the sheer size of it.

Part of her was kind of glad her boss had set her up to closing the store. There was a computer in the office, and her laptop at home had seized working. She decided she would stay a little longer. No one would know. She had been meaning to catch up on the news of what had happened with S.H.I.E.L.D.. She had heard that name countless times in the last twenty-four hours but didn't understand what the hell had happened other than the fact that three helicarriers had come crashing down on the city. Luckily, Bea lived far enough away as not to be caught in the destruction but close enough to feel the effects of the events.

She ordered pizza whilst she waited and began doing some research into what had happened yesterday.

It seemed people were suggesting it had been a terrorist attack, but Bea delved deeper into the information at hand and discovered S.H.I.E.L.D. had been a government-run intelligence agency which had been formed after World War II.

She didn't really understand what had happened, only there was a certain attention focused on a guy with a metal arm who had escaped the wreckage and was now a wanted person. Apparently he was dangerous and was still in Washington DC somewhere.

Her pizza came, which momentarily paused her research. When she came back she began to shut down the computer and turn off the store lights, beginning to feel the weight of the day drag her down.

Deciding she would eat her pizza on the way home, Bea grabbed her handbag, panicking slightly when she couldn't find her phone before remembering she had left it at home, and readied herself to leave when there was a sudden clank from the main store.

Bea froze. One hand holding tightly to the pizza, the other clutched onto her handbag. In her head, she ran through all the possible things that could have created that noise in a completely empty store but came up with no possible solution, other than the fact she was no longer alone.

Deciding pizza was not going to help her in this situation she perched it back onto the desk and instead picked up the closest thing to her: a stapler.

The shuffling continued and Bea was almost certain she was not alone anymore. She carefully approached the shop floor entrance and turned to face the noise, her heart thumping in her chest.

It was in the men's section she saw him.

His back was turned to her, she could see that much. She squinted her eyes to try and see him clearer but the darkened room made it nearly impossible.

She tried to speak out to him but found her mouth had been closed shut in fear. All she managed was a small squeak, which caused her to instantly shove a hand over her mouth as soon as the high pitched sound echoed through the empty room.

"Shit," Bea managed as the man dropped the clothing and jumped around to face her. instinctively ducking behind a coat hanger, she looked at him through the rack, which had no clothes on it and provided no cover what so ever. "I know you're there so just… drop the jeans."

She could see the man just staring at her, frozen in place, although she doubted it was because of fear. Now that he had turned to her she could see his face clearer. He had shoulder-length brown hair and darkened features which suited him well. Beatrice wasn't sure if she was the cause for his fallen expression or if it was his natural face.

When the man made no attempt to move, Bea slowly moved from behind the rack and made sure to show the stapler clearly. His eyes traveled to it for a second before frowning and looking back at her.

"Are you just stealing or are you planning on killing me?" Bea asked uncertainly, half-joking. The mysterious man didn't look like he was about to jump at her, he was only looking at jeans. Although she half wondered why he bothered to steal from a place like this. He could have aimed for higher standard clothing if he was going to steal. Nothing like this ever happened in this clothing store. "How did you even get in here? The alarm didn't go off or anything- oh."

The man had swayed a little and in doing so the tint of his left arm reflected back a silver metal back at Bea.

"Shit," Bea uttered. "Shit. You're the guy-," she pointed wildly behind her shoulder at the computer which had now fully shut off. "Are you the guy?" She doubted there were many metal men but she didn't want to jump to conclusions. "Shit, you are the guy. How many other metal armed people are there in Washington? Probably not many. Shit."

The man held out a hand as if to stop her, but Bea was now pacing in panic.

"I am going to die. I am going to die on the shop floor of a clothing store, holding a fucking stapler. Oh my god." Her fingers gripped the stapler tighter, feeling her heart beating out of control. If this man didn't kill her, a heart attack surely would. The metal armed assassin looked around wildly, probably looking for something to kill her with, although she was sure a punch to the head with that metal arm would probably do just the trick. "Of all the bloody ways to die this is how I end. This is so typical."

Distantly, she heard the man utter quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you," but she brushed past it, focusing on what was happening before her.

Now she really wished she had done her research on the S.H.I.E.L.D. incident, seeing as the guy who had caused it was standing right in front of her.

A metal armed assassin was right in front of her.

Who was wet.

She didn't know why this particular small detail caught her attention, but she noticed the way the man's clothes stuck to him. His hair didn't look wet, however, as if it had been hours since he had had contact with water, but his clothes had dried terribly.

It all clicked in Bea's mind. The crashing helicarriers had fallen on top of the water. Maybe he just wanted some dry clothes.

Bea bit her lip, trying to think clearly when the man spoke.

"Sorry, I'll leave. I didn't think anyone was in- the lights were off and I needed…" He gestured to the jeans he was still holding that he instantly turned and put back. Bea, still a little wary, narrowed her eyes trying to assess the situation, but the blinding knowledge that the assassin from the cause of destruction in Washington was standing right before her was sort of distracting.

"You needed clothes?" Bea managed to choke out, pulling herself from going into complete shock. "Um, okay." If this was the only way to get her out of this situation, she was going to take it. She began to walk towards the jeans table to help this customer, when the man jumped backwards, almost as if he was fearful of her. She ignored it for the most part and picked up the jeans or the table. "Okay." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The adrenaline pumping through her was making her shake

"What size are you? 'Cause these ones will be way too big for you." She reached over to take the ones he was clutching way too tightly. He flinched at the movement but handed them to her anyway. A million questions ran through Bea's mind, but she knew she couldn't just outright ask 'why did you just flinch?', that would be rude.

"I don't know," he answered uncertainly, "I'm not sure. They used to just give me clothes…" he trailed off.

"They?" Bea raised an eyebrow knowing she was walking into dangerous territory. A voice screamed at her in her head to just give him the clothes he needed and then he would leave without slitting her throat.

"It doesn't matter," he replied.

This made Bea's job a lot more difficult. She turned to look at him and looked him up and down, trying to see what clothing size he would be. Something bothered her though. His clothes just screamed assassin at her. She wasn't sure if it was the combat boots, the complete blackness of his clothing, the clasps around his middle, which was where Bea supposed the guns were meant to be held, and to top it off, a metal arm. Bea decided then that she would find him clothes that made him look less… killer like.

She searched through the pile of jeans and found one that looked like it would fit him. "Here." She held it out to him. Slowly he took it, looking at it warily as if it was about to explode. Again, she ignored it and moved past him to the t-shirt section and found a plaid shirt that looked relatively normal. She came back to him and gave it to him.

"Do you want to try them on? See if they fit? 'Cause I have no idea if they do or not. There's a fitting room over there."

"No," he replied quickly, "I'll trust your judgment."

"Okay," Beatrice nodded, not really sure what to do now. Her heart rate seemed to have slowed down now that she had realized she wasn't going to die. Although she was probably going to get fired, considering she was giving clothes away for free. What was she doing? "Is there anything else you need?"

He held up what was already in his hands. "Do you have any gloves?"

Bea peeked at his left hand which he had slyly put under the shirt she had given him. She suspected he wanted to hide it from her view. Maybe he really didn't want to hurt her. Right now she had a hard time believing this was the man that was being plastered over the news with a high alert telling civilians to avoid him. From what she could see, the man before her simply looked afraid.

"Yes we do," she gulped. "I'll be back."

She was quick to run downstairs and pick up a pair of black gloves. It was the only pair they had considering it was the summer months and gloves weren't really in the season fashion right now.

When she got back upstairs she saw him looking at a jacket, running a hand over it.

"You can have it if you want."

He looked away from the jacket and at her, blinking as if in shock, "Why are you helping me?"

Bea was caught unawares and realized she had no idea how to answer the question.

She still couldn't get over the idea that an assassin was standing before her, with a metal arm. But she was helping him. She couldn't explain why, other than the fact that she, one: thought it was probably the best way to get out of this situation without dying and two: she wanted to help him.

"I just thought helping you might keep me alive so…" She picked up the gloves and passed it to him.

"I won't hurt you." He repeated his words from earlier. Bea gulped, hating herself for believing the words spilling from his mouth. He had made no move on her that would be considered violent; he had simply come into the store for a fresh set of clothes.

How could she think he would harm her for that?

He took the gloves from her and shoved them instantly on. Bea was thankful he had done so, it was easier to pretend he was normal.

"Do you want some pizza?" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she had said them, and before she could take them back, he replied.

"I've never had that before."

Her shoulders slumped. How tragic had this man's life been that he had never experienced the taste of pizza? Trying to act nonchalant about it, she gestured to where her pizza was still perched upon the desk.

"It's the best thing in the world." Bea tried to smile in this kind of serious situation. "It might have gone cold now, but cold pizza is still amazing."

He looked over at the store's exit as if debating whether to stay or leave. Bea was split between wanting him to get the hell out so she could actually breathe again and genuinely wanting him to stay. Curiosity in this man overpowered her, as she wondered how he was a mass murderer.

Finally, after an eternity, he turned to face her and nodded. She doubted he had eaten in a while, and hunger was overpowering him.

She led him into the room and flipped open the box of pizza, nabbing a slice for herself. "Take as much as you want," she said, plopping herself back down on the desk chair. She was worried about how relaxed she was being. "I'm Beatrice by the way. Bea for short."

"Bea," he repeated, testing the name out on his tongue. He nodded once before making his way over to the pizza. The next time Bea looked up he had delved deep into the pizza, eating each slice in two or three mouthfuls. "This is good."

"Told you." Bea chuckled finishing off her own first slice. She dusted her hands off before reaching over for another. There were only two left. "So you know my name, what's yours?" Bea knew she might as well willingly sign her own death certificate. But if she was going to die tonight she was going to die eating pizza and learning maybe a few secrets about this mystery man.

He looked uncertain and frowned. "I-I'm not sure."

"You don't know your own name!" her eyebrows rose to the roof, "How?"

"Bucky," he said, but he sounded unsure even of himself. He looked away from her and down at the pizza in his hand. "That's what he called me. Bucky. It sounded right."

Bea was beginning to feel there was much more to this Bucky. It seemed he couldn't remember anything. Not even his own name. Bea frowned, the sudden urge to hug him befell her but she resisted it. She needed to remember this was an assassin.

"Did you bump your head during the helicarriers crash or something?"

"No." He looked down at his pizza in confusion before plopping it back down in the pizza box, uneaten. "I should go. I shouldn't be here." He jumped up from where he was sitting and Bea found herself following him.

She was confused just as much as him, she should be relieved he was leaving.

Bucky picked up the clothes Bea had gone to get him before and tucked them under his arm. "I don't have anything to pay you with."

Bea waved it off. "It's on me. I suppose I should just be grateful I still have my neck in one piece-"

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you." He sounded upset she had brought it up again and Bea left it be. As surprising as it was, he really did have no intention of harming her.

"You can come back!" Bea called after him, despite saying it loudly, the echo if it rebounded in her skull and she was left to think 'why the hell would I say that!'

In a jutted motion, he spun around to face her, eyes narrowing.

"You're not scared of me?"

Shrugging she said, "Well, as far as being an assassin goes you seem like one of the nice ones." Surprisingly, this caused a smile out of him. A small one at that, but there was a definite twitch in his lips that curved upwards. With a sense of pride at having been the cause of his smile, Bea finished, "I'll get some pizza again or maybe Chinese next time."

Internally, Bea was smacking herself for being so stupid but she couldn't stop herself from hoping that he did come back. She wanted to find out more.

"I don't know."

Bea shrugged "Well, I'm here if you ever want to."

With that, he nodded and turned towards the exit. There was no sound of the door opening or closing. There wasn't even any evidence that Bucky had been there in the first place. It was just as quiet and unsettling as it was before.

Bea returned to her desk, packed up what was left of the pizza and left the store. The realization she had just invited an assassin to her workplace again dawned on her. She was an idiot.