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(Y/N) exhaled a nervous breath through her nostrils and braced herself before she knocked on the door two consecutive times like she always did. She didn't understand why her body was trembling so badly, it wasn't like she had never been here before. Maybe her muscle memory was remembering the circumstances of her last visit to this place and could not control the shaking in her hands as she waited for someone on the other side of the door to open it. Before her mind could spiral any further, a young woman in a beautiful, purple cocktail dress opened the door for her.

(Y/N) plastered a smile on her face. "There's the birthday girl!"

"(Y/N)!" Rebecca Barnes exclaimed with the same level of enthusiasm, not wasting time before jumping into the woman's open arms. "You made it!"

(Y/N) let out a laugh at her antics and nearly stumbled back because of the force of the hug before adjusting her arms over Rebecca's form.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Rebecca pulled away from the hug with a smile still etched on her features and stepped aside to let (Y/N) into the house, closing the door once both were back inside. (Y/N) took in the decorations in the living room; balloons taped to the walls and scattered on the floor, crepe paper streamers, as well as the worn, homemade birthday banner hung on the wall. She also waved in greeting to Rebecca's younger brothers, both lifting their heads to see who it was before returning back to their conversation.

An older woman with gray streaks covering her once brown hair peeked her head from inside the kitchen at the sound of another voice. "(Y/N), my dear, how have you been?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Barnes," she smiled warmly in her direction as Rebecca guided her to the table.

Winnifred left whatever she was doing in the kitchen to greet (Y/N) properly, opening her arms wide before she reached her in the middle of the living room.

"Oh, dear, how many times have I told you to not call me that! You make me feel old!"

"But we are old, dear," Her husband, Jimmy, pointed out from his seat on the couch.

Winnifred glared at him for a brief moment before embracing (Y/N) in a loving hug, even pressing a kiss to her temple at the same time. (Y/N) forgot how comforting her hugs were like and almost melted into the embrace — it was one of the many things that she passed on to her son as well.

"Sit, darling, I'll serve you a plate."

"Thank you."

The rectangular table was set for six, with a floral tablecloth covering it entirely. There were three different plates for different appetizers, from cheese and crackers to stuffed celery. (Y/N) sat down beside Rebecca, setting down both her purse and the gift bag with her as well.

"So, (Y/N), how's the phone company treating you?" Winnifred's voice echoed through the kitchen with the sounds of utensils clinking against each other as background noise.

"It's been fine," (Y/N) answered, guilt consuming over her at the thought of lying to them about her real job. "I recently got promoted."

"That's great!"

"Does that mean you don't cover the phones anymore?" Winnifred asked, and despite not being able to see her, (Y/N) could picture the questioning look in her features.

"I do, but I'm also in charge of my own group."

"Ooh, interesting — "

"All right, enough of the boring work talk," Rebecca interrupted her mother and clasped her hands together. "Met anybody recently?"

(Y/N) frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! Are you seeing anybody – " she paused to correct herself when she saw (Y/N)'s mouth open. "— in a romantic way?"

"Aren't you a little too young to be asking about this?"

"I'm turning 25, not 12."

"Still too young to me."

"Shut up."

"Becca," Winnifred scolded as she returned with a plate in her hand and set it in front of (Y/N). The smell of the home cooked meal invaded her senses almost immediately, and she wasted no time in digging into it as Winnifred sat down on the nearest empty chair. "But now I'm intrigued as well. Are you sure there's nobody special in your life?"

"We have the right to know, after all."

"Not at the moment," (Y/N) leaned back against her chair to meet the gazes of both women.

"Why not?"

"I'm more focused on work now."

Winnifred extended a hand to brush it against (Y/N)'s cheek affectionately. "And that's great, honey, but a lovely woman like yourself shouldn't be unaccompanied."

"Yeah, especially now that you don't have the guard dog that my brother was."

"It wasn't that bad," (Y/N) told Rebecca with a nostalgic tone. "Most of the men he scared away weren't that good to begin with."

"Whenever I scolded him about it, he used to say 'There's nobody good enough to match (Y/N)'s standards!'" Winnifred smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And Steve wasn't that far behind too! Troublemakers, those two were."

"Don't know how you put up with it for that long," Rebecca shook her head. "I remember not speaking to Bucky for a month after he glared at my date so hard he ran off."

"Well, you must be having luck in that department now, aren't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Really?"

"Really," Rebecca answered with a nod. "'Been stepping out with this total dreamboat for the last couple of weeks. You should try it sometime, you know, live a little."

"Yeah, that's not happening any time soon."

"Oh, come on," She inched forward on her seat. "You're telling me that there's not even a single person who's caught your eye?"

"No."  (Y/N) replied, hoping that was enough to satisfy Rebecca and change the subject. "And I think I've had enough of your meddling in my love life to last me a liftetime, Becca."

"Fine, fine," the younger woman raised her hands in surrender, all while Winnifred watched the exchange with a smile. "But you can't blame me for being curious. You've always been stubborn, just like Bucky."

"He was stubborn, wasn't he?" (Y/N) couldn't help but be flooded with hundreds of memories where that particular trait was displayed in her old friend. "Remember how he'd used to dig his heels in if he thought he was right? Even though he wasn't?"

Rebecca snorted so loudly it drew the attention of her father, before dismissing his concern with a hand. "Oh, please don't remind me. I can't count on my fingers the amount of times I heard him say 'Yes, I know what I'm doing' before it backfired on him."

"And yet, he always made it work in the end." Winnifred commented, reaching out a hand to caress it against (Y/N)'s arm in comfort. "Or at least convinced you he had."

"Sounds about right."

"You know, he'd hate that you're putting work over everything else," Rebecca rested her chin on her palm. "He'd say you're wasting away your best years being 'responsible'."

"Oh?" (Y/N) tilted her head to humor her. "And what would you know about what he would say?"

"A lot," Rebecca smirked. "I was his favorite sister."

"You were his only sister."

"Details, details."

"Oh, you two." Winnifred exclaimed with a motherly tone, yet the soft expression on her features never wavered. Her posture then straightened, as if she had suddenly remembered something of great importance. "Oh, (Y/N), before I forget! I was cleaning under my bed the other day, and I found that old photograph of you and the boys on the Spring Formal."

(Y/N) didn't even have time to register Winnifred's words before the older woman stood up from her chair. "I'll go grab it!"

She watched Winnifred rush toward her bedroom with hurried steps, all while she felt Rebecca's amused eyes fall on her.

"She's been doing this every chance she gets," Rebecca lowered her voice to make sure nobody else would eavesdrop on the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Skimming through old photo albums, rereading his letters," Rebecca listed with a worried frown. "His room became a shrine, and makes sure it's always spotless. Kind of like she's waiting for him to come home."

(Y/N) lowered her head as she registered those words. If she closed her eyes long enough, she could still the perfect image of the day she came back from Europe behind her eyelids, as if it had happened yesterdays. Her teeth clenched as she recalled how cruel it was that she had to tell the Barnes family that their son would not return home and how she barely made out two sentences before she was pulled into the family hug in the middle of the living room.

"She lost a son," (Y/N) understood with a solemn tone. "If I was her, I'd be doing the same thing."

"Yes," Rebecca whispered in agreement. "But I don't know — "

"Here it is!"

Winnifred walked back into the room with a medium-sized, rectangular picture frame in her hands, holding it out so (Y/N) could see. Once she reached the table, she handed it over for (Y/N) to take and her eyes immediately started watering once her gaze fell on the picture. She, Bucky and Steve were dressed in formal clothes, smiling directly at the camera with a young glint in their eyes, the three of them lined up from shortest to tallest. (Y/N) saw the corsage that Bucky had given her pinned to her dress and how he struggled to find one with her favorite flower. She also could recall how Steve had insisted that their bow ties had to match the color of her dress. If she concentrated long enough, she could still hear the sound of their laughter mixing with the music.

"You looked like a princess in that dress, my dear," Winnifred recalled. "I remember Jimmy told our Bucky he was a fool for not asking you to be his date that night, and how he said you were only going as friends."

(Y/N) let out a quiet laugh but did not remove her eyes from the picture. She stared at herself with a mixture of resentment and longing — resentment for the cluelessness the girl in that picture held from her inevitable future, and longing for the simplicity of that life once more.

"Ma, mind if I talk to (Y/N) for a bit?" Rebecca's voice snapped her away from her own thoughts, as well as the hand on her shoulder.

"Of course not," Winnifred shook her head and gently grabbed the picture from (Y/N) once she held it out for her to take. "I'll grab the cake."

Rebecca saw her mother carefully set the frame on the table before disappearing into the kitchen once again. Once she was gone, she turned back to (Y/N) with a serious look on her face. The latter shook off the previous tension on her shoulders and turned her head to lock eyes with Rebecca.

"You weren't answering my calls."

"I know," (Y/N) responded after a period of silence, lowering her head in shame. She had been so wrapped up in the last case that she forgot to keep contact with her, just like she promised she would. "I'm sorry, it's just —"

"I thought something bad happened to you."

"I'm sorry," (Y/N) placed a hand over Rebecca's. "Got caught up with work and personal stuff. But I shouldn't have left you hanging."

"It's okay," Rebecca offered a reassuring smile.

She used her empty hand to reach for the small gift bag and held out for her to see.

"Here, I almost forgot to give you your present."

Rebecca's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she took the bag from (Y/N)'s hands. She pulled the large velvet box out of the bag and carefully inspected it between both of her hands, not daring to see what was inside it.

"What's this?"

"Just something I wanted to give you."

Rebecca's curiosity was peaked with that sentence and she opened the velvet box only to let out a gasp at the sight. Even though (Y/N) was the one to personally pick the gift, she still leaned forward to see it up close. The designer necklace was perfectly intact inside the box, and the rhinestones seemed to glimmer even more by just being in Rebecca's presence.

"Oh, (Y/N), it's beautiful," she placed a hand over her heart. "This must've cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about it," (Y/N) shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. It was the least she could do. "Want me to put it on?"

"Of course!"

(Y/N) laughed at the woman's enthusiasm and stood from her chair to stand behind Rebecca's. She carefully removed the necklace from the velvet box and set the piece of jewelry on her neck, with Rebecca letting out a small gasp at the coolness of the material against her skin. Once (Y/N) secured the clasp, she moved to the side to see how it looked now that it was worn by somebody.

"You look beautiful," (Y/N) complimented.

Rebecca's eyes watered as she flickered her gaze from the necklace to her friend. She stood up from her chair to match (Y/N)'s height and pulled her into another tight embrace.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything."

(Y/N) made a sound of disbelief in the back of her throat, like she didn't think she was worthy of receiving such a compliment. Rebecca, on the other hand, did not take it back.

"For being there when we needed you the most," She went on to explain further. "When I needed you. You're the only person who still treats me like . . .before. Everyone always looks like they're constantly avoiding the use of certain words in fear of how I'll react. Even Mom."

"I'm just doing the right thing to do," (Y/N) answered. "Which is making sure you're safe and sound." Just like he would've wanted, she thought to add, but swallowed down the words.

"I know, and I want to thank you for it," Rebecca told her. "You're like the older sister I never had."

(Y/N) smiled down at her feet before looking back at her. "You're going to make me cry, stop it."

Rebecca let out a teary laugh and her gaze flickered back and forth on (Y/N)'s face, as if she was seeing something invisible to anybody else.

"How do you do it?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows furrowed in question.

"How do you deal with. . .everything?"

(Y/N) opened and closed her mouth around two times, trying to find the proper words to answer Rebecca's question. She had no clue on what to respond with: the truth or a lie. Rebecca did not deserve one of her lies, so that was out of the equation, but if she told the truth, she feared she might imitate her unhealthy coping mechanisms, which went completely against her promise.

"To be honest, I don't," (Y/N) let out a breath. "And that's bad, but I can't help it."

"But, you look so composed, all the time."

"That's just the skill I managed to perfect throughout the years," (Y/N) forced herself to smile. "I forced myself to think that the world is not going to wait for me to get everything together, so I just, stuff everything in a box and leave it for later. And that later never comes."

Rebecca stared at her like she wanted to say something, but couldn't force herself to say it.

"Don't be like me, Becca." (Y/N) broke the silence, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "You have a family who can be there for you whenever you need it. Don't take them for granted."

That softened the frown in her features, and the glance she directed toward her father and younger brothers didn't go unnoticed by (Y/N). Rebecca took one look at her and decided to wrap her arms around her middle for yet another hug, a gesture that made (Y/N) let out a chuckle.

When Rebecca pulled away, (Y/N) moved her arms to return them to their original position and in the process caught eye of her wristwatch. She did a double take to make sure she didn't misread the marked hour and her eyes widened in realization.

"Sweet Jesus," she exclaimed. "I'm running late."

"Work?"

She nodded.

"Can't you call your boss and tell him that you're handling an emergency?"

"I don't think so."

Rebecca let out a dramatic sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. "Ma! (Y/N) has to go."

"Oh, really? So soon?" Winnifred stepped away from the kitchen with a disappointed frown.

"I apologize, Mrs — Winnifred."

"At least take a slice of cake with you," she offered kindly. "It's carrot cake, Becca's favorite."

"Sure, I'll take a slice."

In a matter of five minutes (since she did not want to leave without watching Rebecca blow the candles of her birthday cake) she was out the door of the Barnes residence with a slice of carrot cake wrapped in wax paper in her hands. She suddenly felt a wave of deja vu to the old days when she and Steve used to take leftovers to their own homes since Winnifred insisted they did so. (Y/N) walked away from the front door with a content smile on her face, satisfied with her visit and vowed to return soon.

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The route to the SSR's interrogation room was engrained on (Y/N)'s memory by now, her feet subconsciously guiding her through the long corridor where dozens of agents walked by with their own errands to run, but all of them paused on their tracks to make her path easier to cross. She wanted to smile at the men's demeanor — a year ago, they would've even bumped against her just to make it to their meetings on time, and now they stopped to stare and nod in her direction.

(Y/N) stopped in front of the frosted glass door, preparing herself both physically and mentally to face the person she knew was standing on the other side of the room. The file in her left hand felt heavy despite it containing two sheets of paper and photographs, but it carried the weight of the entire leverage she had for this interrogation. She lifted her head up high to not show a single sign of nervousness and opened the door.

Louis lifted his head at the sound and smirked at the sight. His left hand was handcuffed to the table, so he used his right hand to wave at her. "My lovely (Y/N). So good to see you again."

"Louis," (Y/N) nodded her head in greeting and pulled on the unoccupied chair across from him, but did not sit down. Not yet. "Oh, wait, that's not your name, is it? Why don't we skip the formalities and tell me your real name?"

"Why should I?" Louis tilted his head to match her attitude. "I'm on death row, sweetheart. I'd like to maintain the element of suspense."

"Because I'm sure that there's a twisted part of you that's dying to share all the details of your twisted plan and how you came up with it."

"Wow, am I that transparent?"

She shrugged. "You're all the same."

"Ouch," Louis placed his free hand over his heart in a fake offense. "You mean you're seeing other people? I thought what we had was special."

"It was," (Y/N) nodded, pretending to be hurt before she changed back her expression. "Until you decided to stab me in the back and try to kill me."

"I never wanted to kill you," he opened his mouth and let out a scoff. "If I wanted to, I would've done it on the first night."

"Really?"

"Right as you walked out into that hallway."

"Huh." (Y/N) tilted her head to pretend a train of thought. "So why didn't you, then?"

"I needed to be sure."

"Of what?"

"That you were the right target."

That erupted a laugh on the back of (Y/N)'s throat. She shook her head and looked directly into the wall ahead in disbelief for a brief second before returning her gaze on Louis.

"Look, we already spoke to your lady friend – "

Louis interrupted abruptly with an almost angered look on his face. "She's not my friend."

"Oh?"

"Just. . .work colleagues."

"That's not what she told me."

"What did she tell you?"

"She led me to this."

(Y/N) set the file on the table and opened it, the movements catching Louis's attention right away. She spread out the photographs for him to see, they weren't of the best quality, especially in black and white, but they managed to make Louis frown in curiosity.

"This was recovered from Johann Fennhoff's files," she went on to explain. "Recognize any of them? Or yourself?"

Louis's frown deepened and with a strained voice, he managed to croak out, "What the —?"

"That's Hugo Vittore. Born in Trieste, 1919." (Y/N) pointed out, looking at him like she finally held the upper hand against him. "You had a sister, Sofia."

Louis, better known as Hugo now, clenched his jaw so tightly at the mention of the girl's name that (Y/N) thought he might break his teeth. He stared at the photographs a second longer, as if he didn't recognize the boy on the family portrait to be himself anymore. The inner turmoil behind his eyes was loud enough for her to notice, and she took note of the nervous tapping he was doing with his handcuffed hand against the table.

"Hugo," she called his real name softly. "Who sent you?"

"Again, why should I tell you?" Hugo tried to make his tone sound smug and confident as before, but something inside him wavered. He even lowered his volume this time, much more cautious on the words that came out of his mouth. "You shot me. You're the one who put me in here."

"Was it Hydra? The Reds?"

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"They'll kill me."

"Like you said so yourself, sweetheart, you're already on death row. What's the harm?"

"These people. . ." he trailed off, whispering the words now. "They don't cut you off that easily."

"If you tell me, I can make sure you're protected from them."

"I don't believe you," Hugo let out a humorless laugh. "You can't hide from these people."

"Who?"

Hugo tapped against the table, three consecutive times. "MEDUSA."

"What?" (Y/N) wasn't expecting that as an answer. "What the hell is MEDUSA?"

Hugo laughed again and shook his head at her cluelessness. (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and squinted her eyes when she saw him turn his head toward the one-way mirror on the left side of the room, suddenly aware that someone else was listening to the conversation on the other side.

"The snakes aren't the real threat," Hugo slipped into his native tongue, a natural reflex to make sure nobody eavesdropped on the conversation. "It's the person controlling them'."

(Y/N) got the hint and sat down on the chair, leaning her forearms on the table while slipping into Italian as well. She could already hear the complaint bubbling on the tip of Thompson's tongue on the other side of the mirror, but could not care less.  "Again with the symbolic phrases."

"You don't believe me."

"I do, but who controls them, Hugo?" (Y/N) was on the edge of her seat by now, inching forward with each of Hugo's words to make sure she didn't miss a single thing. "I need a name."

"Names are dangerous. You think I'd still be alive if I knew?"

"Stop deflecting. You're scared, and properly. Help me stop them."

Hugo stared down at his hands for a minute, contemplating his options. (Y/N) flickered her gaze into his eyes to search for another physical tell of his or a way to read onto his emotions.

"La Gorgone."

(Y/N) let out a frustrated huff. "A real name."

"I've said enough," he returned back to English, bouncing back and forth between languages as easy as blinking.

Hugo's shoulders tensed and he laced his fingers together to stop the nervous tick, most likely catching onto her tactics. (Y/N) sat down on the chair for a beat, waiting for him to suddenly give out the information she was here for, but nothing happened. She pressed her lips together in concentration, searching for anything else she could use to make him open up like that again, but no idea came to her. Just when she was about to open her mouth again to say something, a rhythmic noise was heard from the other side of the mirror, a sound used to catch the attention of the agent making the interrogation.

(Y/N) let out a breath, knowing she was about to get an earful from Thompson — who was unfortunately her boss now — and pushed herself up from the chair. She gathered the photographs inside the file and turned toward the door, not sparing Hugo a single glance until he broke the silence.

"'Lerna burns at midnight'."

She took note of him speaking in Romanian this time, instead of Italian like he did a few minutes ago. (Y/N) looked over her shoulder at him and saw him stare directly into the mirror with an emotionless expression, clearly part of the training he received. Instead of saying anything else, she stepped out of the room without another word and closed the door behind her.

(Y/N) turned toward the door that led to the room on the other side of the two-way mirror, an irritable look flashing through her eyes before she composed herself. She opened the door to find Thompson by himself, leaning against the table and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you trying to undermine this interrogation?"She broke the silence between them. "I was just beginning to make him feel comfortable."

"This is no longer your concern," Thompson replied with that obnoxious tone of his. "You're done here."

She couldn't believe her ears. "Why?"

"We caught a high-profile case that needs eyeballs with experience."

"Well, give it to someone else," she tried to reason. "No one will get through Vittore like I do."

"This isn't negotiable, Dewitt." He bit back, unfolding his arms and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Next flight leaves for Los Angeles in three hours."

"Los Angeles?" She searched his face for any sign that he was humoring her. "You're getting rid of me? Now that we have a breakthrough?"

"Sousa is understaffed in his office."

"Is he now? And my guess is that you'll be sending Carter as well, huh?"

"Yes," he answered with a scoff. "Sousa asked for you and nobody else. It's a real burden being everybody's favorite agent, isn't it?"

"If this is about your insecurity, Chief Thompson, then I suggest you deal with it in your own time," (Y/N) placed her hands on her hips. "Don't sabotage our first real shot at uncovering Vittore's and Underwood's agenda."

"Dewitt," He exhaled and stepped even closer to her than before. "Believe it or not, the SSR can actually function without you once in a while."

"And who would you plan on interrogating him?"

"Plan on doing that myself."

"Jack, he is not afraid of you," she looked at him up and down. "Having a woman interrogate him is what throws him off his game."

"Hmm." He pretended to think it through before he spoke up, "Pack your bags."

hey. . .im back, everybody <33
school's out, you know what that means !!

yes, i included rebecca barnes and the barnes family because i feel like they are such an underrated part of bucky's past. (i also imagine the necklace becoming a family heirloom in rebecca's future generations)

- see you soon, bex <3