Disclaimer: I don't own Captain America and its characters, and I have no affiliation with Marvel. I have full rights over my original characters.

Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.

He couldn't believe it, even with the legitimate proofs standing in front of his eyes: the man, Steve Rogers, had said right, and the both of them had been best friends more than 70 years ago. It seemed unbelievable when you thought of it, but he was James Buchanan Barnes, the giant glass portrait couldn't be lying. They were one person.

Bucky Barnes. That name was one of the things he would never forget again.

"Mary? Can I talk to you for a second?" the landlord, a tall man with piercing green eyes and obvious black hair implants called Edmond Rosane, leaned casually against his apartment door frame, crossing his arms on his chest.

Mary gently dropped her Whole Foods bag and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, smiling sheepishly at Mr. Rosane. Her petite frame made her feel small everywhere she went, as the world from her perspective was but a wide collection of torsos, thus making her very impressionable; the owner of the building made no exception, and the fact that she owed him money each month only added to her fear of encountering him.

"Sure." She managed to say between two skipped heartbeats. "How are you, Edmond?" This was one of his numerous things, making everyone use his first name to appear more chill, relaxed.

"I'm good, thanks. Nice day at school?"

Just go straight to the point, old man, thought Mary. "Pretty good, yeah."

"There's something I'd like to discuss, Mary, and I think we both know what it is." A million thoughts flashed in Mary's mind, half of them not even slightly related to the landlord, and she internally slapped herself for being so easily distracted while talking to someone.

"Well Edmond, as much as I'd love to stay and play guesses, I have fresh groceries to put away, and..." Mary choked on her words, conscious of her outburst of incivility.

Edmond's face broke into a small, sharky grin for a few seconds, before it went back to its usual stillness.

"Of course, I wouldn't stop you unless it was really important, and I, for one, consider that two months of unpaid rent is rather important. Now, I'm not heartless, and I know how difficult it is to find money for someone your age; I've been young too, once, and I've juggled between jobs to pay my own apartment. Look at me now, I own the building!" He gestured around him, his eyebrows raised as if he was impressed by his own achievement. "Anyway. I'll leave you some more time to pay me back, but I can't press further than four months. If you can't pay me by January, I'll have to throw you out. Understood?"

All the niceness in his voice had disappeared, and Mary immediately understood how much trouble she was in: when Edmond Rosane didn't even bother to put on his fake voice, it showed he wasn't joking anymore. Not that he would ever joke about money, that was the most serious thing in his life.

"Loud and clear, Edmond. I'll... I'll manage, see what I can do." Mary quickly picked up her paper bags and prepared to make a quick exit, but the landlord was clearly not finished.

"Why don't you find a job? I'm sure there's loads of things a young girl like you can do after school, why don't you just try anything? Maybe you could ask your parents for some money."

She remained silent, only shaking her head, and she finally climbed the stairs two by two after biding her elder a good evening. She managed to slip the key out of her pocket and into the keyhole, and sighed in relief as she closed the door behind her. Home, sweet home. After quickly unpacking the few groceries she had previously bought, Mary collapsed in her club armchair and took out her sketchbook, flipping through the many pages already scribbled by her hand, to the commission she had to give at the end of the week. A wealthy family had asked for a watercolor of their spoiled little girl, a novice ballerina, and they were ready to pay good money for it, so Mary couldn't have refused; after all, she was using her talent to put some food on the table, even though it was every once in a while.

She'd always wanted to make a career in animation as a drawing artist, but she needed diplomas and it was very risky to go into those kinds of studies in her economical condition. Every time somebody asked why her family didn't back her up financially, she had to make up a lie, because anything was better than the harsh reality: the people who had raised her hated her to bits, and had sent her across the country to live on her own right after graduation so they wouldn't have to see her again. Some days, Mary felt just like an orphan, which in some ways she was, since her legal guardians -her godfather Larry and his boyfriend Hank, two of the most vicious human beings that roamed the Earth (and that was saying something)- had closed their door in her face a while ago.

With her parents gone while she was just a baby, Larry had had to live up to his role of godfather, but clearly it wasn't what he had signed for when he had accepted his best friends' proposition. Eric and Leslie had died in a back alley a year and a half after the birth of their first and only child, Mary Angela LeBrun, leaving her to the approximate care of Larry Crompton. With hindsight, Mary was still grateful Larry had taken her in, but through the years she would always wonder how it would have been with her parents still alive. Probably better, yet it would comfort her to imagine it could have been worse.

Sighing at the realization that she was daydreaming again, Mary got up to seek her watercolor paints and her brushes, as the best way to stick to the present was to remain busy at all times. But however hard she tried to live in the now, she couldn't escape her past and its mysteries.

Somehow your past always finds you.

Okay, author note right here.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction to my first ever fanfiction, Home! I'm very happy that you've found your way to my story, and hope you'll stay with me -til the end of the line.

If you enjoyed my content, do tell me in the reviews section, I feed on your commentaries to become better and write more each day.

I don't know where Home is going yet, but I really count on your presence along the bumpy way it may take!

Yours faithfully,

SB~