The Other Rogers

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open as he grunted. He felt like he had slept for a hundred years. Biting his lip, he held in the groans as he stretched, muscles protesting in pain. Looking around the room he was shocked. Why was he in an apartment? Last thing he remembered was going after Zola with Steve.

Shaking his head Bucky sat up looking around. There was a guitar in the corner of the room, and a window on the opposite wall. This room felt familiar as if he had been there before. The white paint that coated the walls was off-white. How he knew that was beyond him; but then he remembered- Steve loved to paint. He knew all sorts of colours from listening to Steve blabber on while they waited for Anya to finish cooking.

Anya. Bucky missed the woman. Her blonde hair and blue eyes; the snarky comments that always kept him and her brother on their toes. He half expected to hear her humming in the kitchen, but the apartment was silent, besides the soft coos of a woman singing, “Over the Rainbow”. The sound of it made him cringe and fake gag as he imagined Steve or Anya’s reactions of the cover. Laughing to himself, he pictured Anya standing with her hands on her hips as she screwed up her face at the atrocity that was whoever the singer was.

Standing Bucky stumbled before he was brought to his knees. Images flashed past, some quicker than others. Images of a short scientist; Zola, images of a metal arm choking the life out of another man; a woman teaching children how to dance, her blonde hair reminding him of an angel.

Gasping as he hunted for air, Bucky was left curled up in a ball. He remembered everything; he had fallen off the train, ended up being a life-less drone for Hydra who did unthinkable things. They kept him on ice whenever they didn’t need him. Hydra had kept him; The Winter Soldier; for years, decades ever since Nineteen-ninety-five when he fell. Crying the man felt the wall behind him, trying to remember what his Блондинка ангел always told him; “What can you feel, hear, smell?”

His Блондинка ангел. His angel was Anya. But how was that possible? He remembered how that woman; Peggy Carter told Steve that his sister was among those taken from the camp. She was presumed dead; what else would the Germans, or worse Hydra need a hundred nurses for? Bucky remembered holding Steve up not caring what all the other soldiers thought of them; he remembered how the skies darkened and it began to pour in time with their tears. They had lost the only important person to them both.

Joy bubbled in his chest; Anya had survived- but had she really? She was forced to work for the same organisation as him. For decades she was kept in a dark cell until she was needed. Her job was to make sure the Soldier, him, was medically fine to perform assassinations for the corrupt cult. He had no idea how long it had been for them; but he was proud that he was able to stay loyal to her for however long it had been.

A loud crash from outside the bedroom caused Bucky to launch to his feet. Narrowing his eyes, he made his way out of the room and down a corridor. Every inch of the walls reminded him more and more of the apartment the Rogers twins had back in the forties. A gush of wind caught Bucky’s attention. The window had been broken into. Great was it a burglar or was it something worse? Bucky’s chest tightened as he saw the outline for a man; a tall buff man at that. The man held a shield, one that looked rather like Steve’s old one.

Creeping himself closer to the kitchen, Bucky saw a knife on the corner of the sink. Leaping forward he grabbed the handle and held it in front of him, waiting for the man to turn around. Bucky didn’t have to wait for long; the man turned around as if he had felt Bucky approach. Knees weak, Bucky fell to the ground the second time since he woke-

“Steve?”

The man froze, his leather jacket still jerking from the previous movement. Looking up, Bucky saw blue eyes staring into his own, lips stretched as the man went from being shocked to pure happiness. “Bucky!”

Steve sprung himself at his old friend; pulling a still Bucky to his chest. The two friends laughed and cried as they hugged for the first time in years. Wrapping his arms around his friend, Bucky hid his face in Steve’s neck, as he breathed in a scent, he thought he had lost. He didn’t know how but Steve still smelt like paint and smoke. The man never smoked yet he always smelt like he had chugged through a pack a day. The feeling of rough material on both of his arms had him rearing back. Both arms? Looking down at them he screeched as his eyes took in two flesh arms. Last thing he remembered was having a metal arm; so how did he have the original one back?

“Bucky what is wrong?” Steve pulled the shocked man to the couch where he fell onto the cushions. Bucky didn’t reply just stared at his arms, a blank look to his eyes.

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Sighing, Steve got up and walked around the room. He groaned when he saw the window, he had to break in order to get into his apartment. The door wouldn’t open and now he was inside he could see why. The handle looked as if it had been melted to the timber. The room still smelt of freshly cooked bacon, his stomach growled at the possibility. He didn’t remember leaving any food out and he knew Bucky was hopeless at cooking. That man used to burn water. Water! So, he was banned from the kitchen unless he was under the watchful eye of either Steve or Anya.

Walking into the kitchen he saw two plates filled with the kind of breakfast only his sister ever made. She used to make the perfect eggs, bacon, and mushrooms, with waffles and maple syrup. To this day Steve had no idea how his sister had been able to afford it; something told him back in the forties that Peggy knew Anya more than she let on, but it wasn’t like he could go and ask her now. Smelling the delicious food, Steve brought the plates to the table where there were already two bowls filled with Cheerios. The first time he had gone to the shops since waking up, he had almost fallen over when he saw that his favourite cereal was still around. He remembered when it came out, it was called ‘Cheeri Oats’; but barely four years later they dropped the ‘a and t’.

Sighing, Steve thought back on his sister’s amazing cooking and baking skills. She would always make ‘Golden Nugget’ cakes and ‘Plum Charlotte’. The Plum Charlotte was always Bucky’s favourite, him and plums, if you could marry a food; Bucky would have married plums. When they were growing up, Steve would always find Bucky down at the farmer’s market getting bags upon bags of plums before the trio would head out to Coney Island. His sister hated plums, but she always made sure they had some at the apartment for whenever Bucky came over, along with an array of sweets. That man had one of the sweetest-tooth known to man.

Next to where the two plates had sat on the bench, there was two folders and a letter. Grabbing at the first folder Steve saw why his friend had reacted weirdly to seeing his own arms. The folder showed several images of Bucky; with long hair and a mask that covered the lower half of his face. But the most noticeable thing was the lack of his left arm, in its stead was a metal one with a red star on the shoulder. Quickly reading through what he could understand, Steve was left with bile threatening to rise.

Discarding Bucky’s file Steve was drawn to the second one. He didn’t know why but he felt the need to read it, more than he had felt with Bucky’s file. Gritting his teeth, he laid the file open and gulped when he came face to face with his sister’s photograph. It was her in her nurses’ outfit. Her file was just as thick as Bucky’s; but more of it was written in Russian. Groaning, he sat on his heels as he stared at the photo of his sister.

Rubbing his eyes, he made his way back to the table where Bucky had finally moved to. Guess the smell of food woke him from his comatose position. Bucky was already filling the bowls with milk, and started on his plate, the sight of him brought a tear to Steve’s eyes. The only thing that was missing was Anya.

Joining Bucky at the table, Steve was shocked at how much the food tasted like home. If he closed his eyes, he could picture Anya dancing around the kitchen singing as pots and pans sizzled on the stove. His job was always to bring the utensils and glasses to the table, along with bowls and plates. Bucky was only allowed to pour the milk into the bowls and serve the juice. In the background there would have been the record playing; “Sweet Home Chicago” as Anya swayed to and fro laughing as Bucky would pull her out of the kitchen to dance while Steve would take over at the stove, chuckling. The clicks and clacks of heels and shoes bounced over the timber as they moved to the music, would always bring a smile to his face as he watched his sister beam as she danced the Charleston.

Sighing Steve stood up cleaning the plates and bowls, eyes never staring away from Bucky as the man looked around the room and immediately turned off the radio, shoulders sagging as if a large weight had been lifted.

“Didn’t like that song Pal?” Steve asked as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Bucky smiled shyly, his shoulders shrugging as if he didn’t have anything to say. “She definitely didn’t have the voice Anya had.”

Bucky grinned his head bopping up and down, “I woke up thinking that!”

Steve chuckled, “Speaking of walking up, how did you get here? What the-”

Bucky interrupted his friend, “I do not know. I believe Anya had something to do with it.”

“Don’t you dare bring her name up!” Steve snarled at his old friend; his hands clenched into fists. “Anya is dead, she has been since before you fell from the train.”

Bucky’s lips thinned as he ignored the furious glare Steve was sending him as he walked around the man and held up the second folder. “This is Anya’s file. You still don’t know Russian I am guessing.”

Steve shook his head, “No of course not. I had trouble with English on the best of days.” His response caused Bucky to laugh, trust Steve to always bring a smile to your face. His eyes turned serious again as he started to translate the file.

“Rogers, Anya.

Born July Fourth, Nineteen-eighteen

Enlisted as a nurse, stationed at Italy until returned to New Jersey to where her twin was becoming Super Soldier. As a member of SSR, Miss Anya Rogers worked alongside Margaret Carter and Doctor Abraham Erskine.

Taken POW from the Azzano camp; she was taken by Hydra and was experimented on after it was discovered that she was the twin of Captain America~ Steve Rogers

After spending twenty years captive, she was personally chosen as the medical caretaker of the notorious Winter Soldier and has been a captive of Hydra from Nineteen-forty-three.”

“Wait are you saying my twin is alive?” Steve shouted as Bucky finished paragraphing the contents of the folder. He watched as Bucky smiled softly, his fingers tracing Anya’s photograph. “Yes, she is. Like I said I believe she was the one who brought me here. She was experimented on with the Tesseract~ was given several powers such as tele-”

Steve held up a hand causing the man to pause mid-word. “Teleportation? When I entered through the window, I saw a purple disc, the same height as the room. A woman with blonde hair walked through…” Steve trailed off as he started to cry. “My sister was here; she was mere meters away from me.”

Bucky walked over to him and held him as he cried over his sister yet again. Bucky joined in the tears and they spent a few minutes just grieving. Slowly Steve recovered and pulled away from the embrace. He had seen a letter, and now that he knew she was alive, he would bet Fury another ten dollars that it was from her.