.

.

.

"How's it going, Bucky?"

I looked down with a frown.

"My legs are in.... The arm won't go past halfway."

"The cybernetic one?"

"...Yeah."

"Sit down and... cover yourself? I'll help. I think I know what might be the problem."

A minute later, she was kicking open the door while her fingers quickly pinned a coiled braid to her head to match the rest of them. Wearing the peach dress and a jacket of white lace.

She froze mid step. Nose scrunching a little bit. "I always forget how fucking disturbing getting into these things is...."

But she shrugged it off with a wince. She dug through her toolbox. Dumped half of the contents all over the bed until she found a bottle of thick water.

"The casts have some trouble getting in those suits too. It's made for skin, not... anything else."

She settled next to me, motioning for me to pull out the arm. There was a pause when she held up the bottle in her hand, eyeing the sleeve and the arm. With a shrug, she dumped most of the liquid into the sleeve and after rolling up her sleeve, shoved her arm inside.

"And... 'kay, that should help. Probably.... Yeah, probably...."

I gave it another shot as she grabbed a towel to wipe her arm.

Once again, it was stuck at the midpoint. She stepped in to help, resulting in my need to dodge her slipping fists flying towards my face. Or staring up at the ceiling when she decided to hug the arm in an attempt to push the fleshy material upwards.

"Valeriy, this isn't working," I told her.

With a huff, she backed off, hands resting on her waist. "Eve, make a note about getting some handles on the inside of the left arm if you make another one of these things for Bucky."

"I really rather not make another suit. They're expensive."

Valeriy faced me again, waving the voice off.

"This isn't going to work," I stated again. "This whole disguise. It's not going to work."

"It will. It has. Use the system and play the people. They expect you to be sneaking through. Would never even think you'd crossdress and pass as a woman with your body. Or crossing an official border. Among a group of bridesmaids. Their guard wouldn't even be up for something like that. Best place to hide.... Now you push and I'll pull?"

I froze when Valeriy stood up on the bed. Hovering over me from behind. Her hands reaching down on either side of my head to grab the flesh suit. Her knee resting against my back. The metal cast around her ankle cold on my skin.

Grab arms. Pull. Target incapacitated.

With one final push, everything slipped into place. Luckily. Not sure I wanted to go through the hassle of my fingers slipping into the wrong sleeves.

There was so much between the fingers that it was difficult to move them. Bending at the joints were even less possible. With how much material was in the way of the joints.

But the metal arm... it now looked human. Wrapped in flesh. The idea as horrifying as what laid beneath.

A short struggle, pulling and slipping, before my right arm was in place. Though this time much less of a hassle and without the aid of the lubricant.

"That was stupidly exhausting. I want to give up on movement," she laughed, collapsing onto the bed. "...Ow... I hate my ribs. Relax, Bucky. I'm fine. Shouldn't have flopped down like that."

I couldn't help the flinch at the soft pat on my back. On my bare skin. The touch too gentle.

I cleared my throat, searching for a change of subject. "Have you worn something like this?"

"Yup. First time was for Halloween.... Was testing out how well the concept would work. Did well enough that I didn't get any candy and was lectured into an eating disorder until Amber whacked my head straight.... Now she's the one who uses these the most... since I stuff her into one of these things any time she goes out...."

"This is a bit unsettling," I mumbled softly. Unable to get used to the emptiness of texture or temperature. The tight pressure squeezing me. The distance between fingers and everything else.

Nothing felt right.

Tear off suit. Use it to smoother face. Target incapacitated.

Valeriy shuffled about the bed until she settled behind me. Hands at my sides. I could only feel the compression of them from the other side of the suit. Pushing and pulling at the opening at the back to close it.

"It gets rather claustrophobic wearing this thing..." she started. "If that happens, just remember to breathe and concentrate on something else in your surroundings. Best not to book it screaming like a mad idiot straight into a car.... The suit doesn't cushion a wheel going over a foot all too well.... But it's kind of fun to run into things? Or think of it as a really strong full body hug?"

"You have fifteen minutes left."

"Ah shit," Valeriy swore, pulling the last bit of the suit closed before scrunching up a dress matching hers into a ring. "Sorry. Need your cooperation to get this dress on. Arms up."

An order. I wanted to run. Run from moving in this suit. Run from everything.

"Now hair.... Fuck. 'Kay, braided hairband. How hard will that – never mind. Your hair's probably not long enough and I have no bloody idea how to French braid. Where's my spray thingy?"

"...Isn't that the epoxy spray?" I asked over the clattering of a metal ball.

"Yup."

"For my hair...?"

"For the flower going into your hair."

"You're gluing a flower... to my hair...?"

"No? I'm gluing it to this bobby pin...? There's no flowers in here. They're just on the wallpaper.... Shit. Is there anything cute in the room?"

No. No, there wasn't.

"Shit, there's nothing."

My body jumped a little when her left hand combed through my hair. Flipping chunks of it from one side of my head to the other. Combing more and more to one side of my head. Nails scratching along my scalp.

I barely managed to stop myself from leaning away. The contact too much in the lack of feeling in the rest of me. My eyes falling shut as I tried to hold myself together.

"You've wasted six minutes."

Almost couldn't stop the words from tumbling out when she moved away.

"Ah fuck it," she huffed. "Your hair's pretty enough as is. Just make sure your ears stay covered. They're basically giant ass fingerprints... on the side of your head...."

She scrambled for the scattered boxes, pulling out a bundle of blond hair.

"I'll get my wig and face on first, so you don't have to stay stuck in there longer than you need to. Eve, tats please and thank you."

"Tat's coming right up. Easy as pie. Eve, this. Eve, that...." Fading off into irritated mutterings.

At a flip of hair, the young woman was now a blonde. The metal casts dulling from the metallic black to butterflies. The patterns unfurling across the surface blending into her skin as tattoos. She pressed a white sheet to her face, tucking in the edges under the wig.

"Is it working? Do I look like... not me?"

Dumbly, I nodded.

It was someone else. Standing in front of me was someone else. Not her.

Strong jawline. Thin lips painted with dark brown lipstick. Freckles. Almost hollowed cheeks. Even the shape of her eyes changed.

'I need sleep....'

I should have slept.

This was too much.

"Good. Good," she chirped.

It wasn't her grin.

That was not her grin.

"Your turn."

Only those pale eyes, her posture and her voice was the only things left of hers.

The woman picked something up from another box, approaching me. Motioning for my head to lift. She pressed something to my neck and it stuck there.

"Eve? Why does he need to read this paragraph? What is this? Mission Impossible?" she asked, handing me a card with a paragraph on it before going back to the boxes scattered messily.

"It's where the idea came from.... He doesn't have to read the card. I do have... yeah, I should have enough recorded to work with... surprisingly. For two people who I've personally watched not utter so much as a word for days at a time, you two are horrid at being quiet around each other."

I couldn't help myself. After so long... finally. Finally. I was allowed to speak freely. Without being punished for speaking out of turn. Without having to lose it all to the chair.

Free to ask about anything. About my curiosities about this world I was stuck in. Learning about all the new things I've missed out on. Getting answers to the holes in my life.

And then there's the ridiculously reckless way Valeriy seemed to live a portion of her life....

"Give me a break about that," the now blonde huffed. "It's been so long since I've been able to talk to someone without having to lie about... basically everything. I think the last time I got to talk so freely for more than a couple of days... was when I was still dorm mates with Amber?"

I shifted uneasily. Barely able to stop myself from fighting the suit. Trying to just breathe through the pressure wrapped around me. Trying to stay afloat in the memories drowning me. Waiting for my nerves to wake. Waiting for the mind consuming itch of being thawed.

"You won't have to be in this thing too long, Bucky," she whispered softly.

I flinched back at the fingers caressing my right cheek. Staring up at the foreign face in front of me. Clinging to the gray eyes in hopes to recognize her.

"Are you sure this is –"

I couldn't finish my question. Barely able to hold in my gasp. It wasn't my voice. That was a woman's voice. Far higher pitch than Valeriy's or the A.I. ghost's.

"Whoa. It really does work. Hey, do I get one of these?"

Her thumb sweeping across the voice changer stuck to my neck.

"Only managed to get my hands on the one. It's a prototype, and no, the speaker system we used on Agent Coulson sounds nothing natural."

"Damn. No fun...."

"The prototype is still a bit buggy. If it goes weird, Mr. Barnes, pretend to have a high pitched coughing fit."

I gave a nod. Uncomfortable with the idea of speaking.

The silence back in my life. My voice stolen from me in a different way.

'I don't like this.

'I don't like any of this.

'I don't like any of this at all.'

"Val, you're Vicky Manson. Mr. Barnes, your name is now Jamie Holloway. The two of you are bridesmaids to Sandra Blake. The group lost the two of you during the bachelorette party last night in New York. The wedding's this afternoon in Toronto. The maid of honor will be going by Divit Gupta. Make it like you've known each other for the last ten years, at the very least."

"Tilt your head back and close your eyes," the woman said, her left hand supporting the back of my neck.

The white sheet was strangely cool and it wasn't sticky. Almost didn't feel it there except for the lack of air flowing across my skin. Much like the suit.

Her fingers smoothed it out. A gentle pressure as they swept across the curves of my face.

"Another thing Val, you better learn to shut the fuck up. Not a word unless you have to."

"What...? Who the hell is picking us up?"

"...Sparks."

"The fuck? I know Sparks. We get along. Why the hell do I need to... Hmmm. 'Kay. Fine. I'll shut the fuck up," she nodded with a frown, kneeling in front of me with a pair of sandals.

"I-I can do –"

I couldn't finish my sentence. I didn't want to hear that voice... and the fake gut winded me before I could reach my own foot. Couldn't bend over the synthetic fat in front of my stomach. Unable to put on my own shoes. A pair of floral covered sandals... that I couldn't feel.

"Eve, easy up a tad on the makeup for Bucky. It doesn't match the hair. Mmm. Warm up the lips a bit? 'Kay, that works. Looking lovely," the woman said with a nod of approval and that smile that wasn't Valeriy's.

"Sparks has arrived. Mr. Barnes, it'd help if you didn't use Val's name as well."

There was a heavy sigh from the blonde as she pocketed the phone. She gathered the various bags filled with what we've brought and what was already in the room.

A loud bang echoed by a second. The woman walked straight into the door. Charged hard enough to fall backward. Into a crumpled pile.

"...Did she...? I'm not attached to that door. It's a motel."

Moving to help, I decided I never want to move again. Not after the first two steps. Not in this suit. But I forced myself forwards. Trying to move as little as possible.

She motioned for the door instead. To unlock it. Which was a struggle with these fingers. Failing to bend my joints enough to grip much of anything.

When I finally managed to flip the lock, the doorknob turned on its own. The door pushing into the fake stomach before I managed to make way. The cushions under my feet did nothing to stop me from falling onto the wall. The suit absorbed any correction for balance. Landed on my ass.

I almost missed the pain of landing on my tailbone. Anything was better than this nothingness.

A woman who stood in the doorway. The same peach dress on her figure. A figure that screamed fighter. Muscles built over years of experience. Posture ready to attack if need be. But no weapons. None that I could see and the dress did a poor job of hiding much of anything.

Green eyes darted from me to the blonde. A dark brow rose in question. Her posture relaxing likely at the sight of us bumbling around the room. Categorized as not much of a threat.

"Good," the new woman greeted, picking up the few bags from the blonde. "The two of you match the passports enough. Come on. The border's going to get busy if we don't hurry. And I don't want to be caught up in the lines."

She was out of the room before the blonde could peel off the floor and to the car before I could step through the doorway. Two bounces of the bags in her hands and she glanced back at us. Green eyes calculating how dangerous we were.

She knew.

She knew what was in one of those bags. The arsenal of weaponry I had stolen.

She lifted up a secret compartment in the trunk and dumped the bags in. The arsenal hidden. Knowing the A.I. ghost, it wouldn't be found.

There was another glance from the brunette as she made her way to the driver's seat. Trying to parse out more information.

I doubt either of us looked any bit intimidating with the hobbling and waddling. But the way she held herself changed back to when I first laid eyes on her. Ready for anything thrown her way.

The blonde stuffed me into the car when I froze at the warped reflection on the S.U.V. A woman stood where I did. The dress fluttering in the wind. Wind that only my hair and eyeballs could feel.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the image of a pretty face in the window staring back at me. Barely even noticed the seatbelt being pulled around me as the car pulled away.

I tried touching my cheek. The reflection mimicking the motion. Felt nothing except some pressure. But the flesh on the woman's face moved accordingly.

There was even pink lipstick. Lips frowning along with my movements.

Whoever was in the reflection... that was not me.

Not that I knew who I was....

.

. ** .

.

Author's Note:

If you enjoyed this part, please consider leaving a vote. They're very much appreciated. ^^