I know it was only 3 reviews, but I still wasn't expecting a single review when I posted this. I mainly write fanfiction when I just can't get something out of my head and thus I mostly write for myself, but I enjoy sharing my thoughts and I really enjoy seeing any joy and entertainment I can provide to others, so that was really nice! I hope you continue to like what I have to share. :)
They had gotten out of there just in time. Bucky got into the backseat of the red-haired woman's car, who he also attempted to kill before… He saw the men getting out of the black vans…they all quickly scurried back into the vans as they noticed the trio's departure.
"Everybody buckle up," she said before throwing the car into gear and speeding out of the intersection. Bucky felt his head slam back into the plush seat at the ferocity of the car's engine.
"We've got three in pursuit," Sam said as he craned his neck to look out the back window.
"I'm aware," the woman said, stepping on the gas pedal once more. She completely ignored a red light and several oncoming cars. Bucky would have done the same though…
"So, Bucky is it?" she said, looking in her rear view mirror at the man. "Nice to finally see you without shoving bullets in my face." She banked the car hard to the left, swerving to avoid a semi truck.
"They're getting closer!" Sam shouted, his eyes widening with panic.
"Re-lax," she said. "I got this. Name's Natasha by the way."
"Apparently mine's Bucky," he retorted.
"Knew that already," she responded as she banked right, turning hard onto a back way street.
Bucky heard a loud crash behind them as several civilians collided head-on. One of the vans got stuck behind the collision. Still had to shake the other two though…
"Hydra knows I'm with you," he said, mainly speaking to Steve. "They're not going to stop till they get me back."
"Well I guess they're going to be disappointed," Steve said, looking at Bucky from the side mirror. "I don't plan on giving you back."
Bucky's heart fluttered and his stomach felt like it flipped. He couldn't help the smile that found its way onto his tired face. Steve Rogers…Captain America…was mesmerizing. A person wouldn't see it at first, as Bucky certainly hadn't. He saw a big oaf in a red, white and blue suit pretending to be better than everyone else. When that came off at the museum exhibit, Bucky saw a man with a compassionate, gentle heart, and overly-forgiving soul. It was almost painful. Embarrassment swelled in his throat as he thought back on the day in DC. How could Rogers just be so…casual about this? The Winter Soldier had tried to kill him and yet…there he was, tailing him into the museum, cornering him and suddenly taking him out for…coffee? What kind of person did that? 'One that cares about you…'
He bit his tongue as the car lurched, gasping in pain as blood filled his mouth.
"Sorry! Bumpy ride!" Natasha said as she drove over a construction zone.
Bucky grimaced as he swallowed blood. He didn't have a mirror so he couldn't assess how deep he'd bit, but it felt pretty deep. He opened his mouth and blood dribbled out.
"Uh…this dude's bleeding back here," Sam said.
Steve instantly whirled around, his eyes rounding in concern.
"I bit my tongue," Bucky said through a gurgle of blood.
"Shit...that looks bad," Sam said.
"Natasha, do you have anything for this?" Steve asked.
"Glove compartment."
Steve rummaged around for anything that he could use. Bucky swallowed another gulp of blood. It made his stomach churn. Pain didn't bother him as much as the thought of swallowing his own blood and saliva…together. For some reason it just didn't sit right with him. He felt a wave of nausea wash over his stomach.
Steve turned back around with a small plastic cup, typically used for administering cough medicine. "Spit," he directed. Bucky spit into it. "Put this into your mouth." Bucky took the gauze and filled his mouth with it. He winced as the texture began getting moist and warm. "Can you go any faster than this, Natasha?" Steve said, craning his neck toward the driver as he took the blood filled cup from Bucky.
"What do you take me for? An old lady? Of course I can…we just don't have any open road!" She turned a hard left. "Someone needs to start shooting these guys."
"They haven't been shooting at us though," Sam said. His brown gaze locked on Bucky. "They want you alive."
Bucky nodded.
"Someone please start shooting!" Natasha exclaimed as she turned a hard right, swerving a bit.
Bucky grabbed the gun at Sam's thigh. He'd been in the museum, so it was a miracle he'd been able to take his blade in, but guns would have been instantly detected. He rolled down his window, ignoring the protesting Sam and started shooting. The gun felt calm in his hand. He felt calm. This was what he was good at. This was what he had been created to do… No confusing impulses that washed over him against his will, no familiar blonde men… Just him and a gun.
His head throbbed violently, like a resounding protest. He shook off the pain, trying to aim for the tires of the vans behind them. Tsssssss
He lost focus for a moment as the gauze in his mouth became utterly soaked with blood and saliva. He was honestly shocked at how revolted he was at this. He furrowed his brow, hardening himself and forcing the thought of gauze in his mouth just…congealing there away from his mind.
Sam came out the other window with a gun in hand. His aim wasn't as good, not at this speed and these spontaneous turns. Bucky could still see he was a good shot though.
Tssssssss
Another tire blown. The van swerved violently before crashing into the side of a building. Bucky and Sam pulled their torsos back into the car, both breathing heavily. Bucky started to cough, choking a bit on his own blood.
"We're almost there," Natasha said.
Steve turned around with fresh gauze and opened his hand to Bucky to spit the old out. Bucky hesitated. How was this man even real? Dedicated, loyal, trusting, compassionate, fierce, strong, capable… How did a man like Steve Rogers exist? Better yet, what did a man like Steve Rogers see in a man like The Winter Soldier?
Bucky spit the gauze out and was thankful for the fresh gauze that warmed in his mouth. He couldn't taste as much blood anymore. His platelets were finally clotting.
"Where we going?" Sam asked.
"Steve knows a guy, remember?" Natasha responded sarcastically, a lioness' smile on her face.
Bucky wasn't expecting a secret garage that suddenly enveloped the entire car. He wasn't expecting to feel like he was in a 2 ton casket with three other bodies. His fight or flight instincts and programming whirled to life, making him clench his fists tightly as he fought hard to control his breathing and the desire to punch everyone in the car to escape. They descended lower into the dark cavern. "Where are we?" he growled through clenched teeth.
"Stark Industries. We're going from here in a private jet. Stark knows you're with us," Natasha responded as she turned the car off and unbuckled. They were still moving. Didn't she have to park? Suddenly, two arms, a steal clamp attached to the car, Bucky's eyes widened but no one else seemed phased.
"Aren't you worried it's going to scratch the paint?"
"Stark designed it. It's not actually attached. It's all magnetic. No paint damage," she said lazily as she settled into her seat.
Bucky tried to relax in his seat but this reminded him too much of the chair… It was a dark, enclosed space with no power to move or run away. He was entirely at the mercy of someone else. Sure the chair wasn't exactly like that, but it felt pretty damn close. The feeling of being powerless was the most similar. He hated that.
The car was nestled into its spot, and the doors opened. Bucky lurched out; happy he had the ability to run if he wanted. Part of him did, till he saw Steve's goofy smile. He could tell how happy the other was that he decided to come with them, granted, he didn't really have a choice. He felt his feet run cold as he imagined declining Rogers. He would have clearly come anyway.
They walked to an elevator. Steve suddenly became a bit fidgety. "Something wrong, man?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing.
"Not a big fan of elevators anymore," Steve answered simply.
The elevator dinged as it arrived at their floor and they all piled in. Bucky jumped as they were greeted by an automated, female voice. "Welcome to Stark Industries. What floor please?" He had fallen back into Steve. Steve's sturdy arms came to catch him at the elbow. Bucky looked over his shoulder at a pair of concerned ocean blue eyes. Despite his better wishes, he gasped at the touch. Where Steve's hands had held him, he felt gentle waves of heat caressing him like a soft fire on a cold night. He recoiled instantly, moving to the other side of the elevator. He hoped he'd played it off convincingly enough, like he didn't trust Steve. Otherwise he'd have to face the shame of his body's betrayal.
"Penthouse," Natasha said, leaning against the elevator's wall.
The elevator moved quickly. Bucky didn't know they could move this fast… He held onto the railing a bit too tight, angered when he noticed Steve's smirk. "I'm not a fan of elevators either…" he said grumpily.
They arrived at the penthouse in practically no time at all due to the elevator's speed. The door dinged and the automated woman spoke once more, "Enjoy your day! Goodbye now."
They moved into the penthouse. Bucky checked each exit, looking at the wall-scale windows, noticing they were tinted; one way viewing. He looked to the kitchen, noting the placement of the knives. There were enough that if he needed to escape he'd just have to find a way to grab at them and throw them fast enough before anyone had a chance to react. He wouldn't make it, not with the reaction times of this group… He wasn't entirely sure about Natasha, but something was oddly, deeply familiar about her. He could have sworn he knew a little girl in Russia with red hair and sass…
"Welcome! I see Poppa Ice Cube and Baby Ice Cube! What a reunion," Stark called with his arms stretched out in welcome. He had a champagne glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. "Anyone care for a drink? Not you though." He pointed at Bucky. "I don't trust anyone who tries to shoot his best friend and then uses him for an escape route…"
Bucky growled, his fists clenching. He patted his pocket, feeling his blade, mostly for reassurance. Stark raised a brow, knowing full well what Bucky was doing.
"It's okay. They keep memory wiping him. If he had known he'd never have done that," Steve justified.
"That you know of," Bucky shot back.
Steve looked at him with what looked like, almost anger, though it was laced with shock and a bit of hurt. "Really?"
"I may have been swayed to the cause of Hydra and this is all just a lie."
"It's not. Stop being unreasonable," Natasha said as she took a champagne glass and allowed Stark to pour her a bubbling glass.
"And you know me so well?" Bucky challenged.
Natasha gestured a mock toast toward Bucky. "Actually, I do. I just didn't know who you were when I met you. Thought you were just the same as me; an "asset."
"Wait, what?" Steve asked, his hands upturned toward the ceiling in confusion at his waist.
"So. Remember I said I…did some stuff for Russia? Red Room. He was part of it too. I just didn't know he was your Bucky till you told me. He certainly didn't know back then either."
Bucky's mouth silently fell open. She had been part of Red Room? Why hadn't she said anything? "So that's why you seemed so…familiar."
"Memory wipes are a bitch, huh? They don't really wipe anything. But yet they do. But you know someone when you see them. You just don't entirely know why," she said taking a sip of her drink.
"Well, this has been most enlightening, but I really need to crack that arm open and disable its trackers and most likely dangerous fail safes that threaten all our lives. So. If you'd be a dear." Tony motioned to a work station in the corner, closer to the window.
Bucky looked to Steve, as if asking for approval. He watched Steve nod silently. He didn't need Steve's approval… He didn't need anyone's approval. Yet…he just asked for it… He rolled his eyes, as if that would help make his voluntary decision less of a voluntary and more involuntary.
He hesitated in front of the chair, garnishing flashbacks of his own…chair. "Relax. No memory wipes. It's not going to hurt."
"That you know of," Bucky countered.
"True… If I open that we could all explode. That may hurt. Sit." He pushed Bucky into the seat. Two wrist clamps came out of the chair. Bucky began to thrash, feeling like a cornered dog.
"They're precautionary! I have to be ready for any fail safe. They could have a neural implant that causes you to go crazy and kill anyone in the vicinity."
Bucky stopped. His breathing was heavy as he stared at Steve. He felt ashamed. How could he look at a man that had so much trust in him, and not know how to return that trust? There was a dedication that was unfounded; a loyalty that just didn't exist anymore. He was a monster now… Steve was a beacon of hope. Night and day. Good and evil. He looked away, feeling embarrassed, angry and pathetic all at the same time.
"Where's Legolas, Tash?" Tony asked as he bit down on a Philip's Head.
"Still on a mission I guess. Haven't heard from him in a few days."
Tony grunted in response. Bucky watched him work. Mostly entranced by his fingers. They were like excited puppies that just didn't know where to begin when faced with a juicy bone.
"Stark right?" Bucky said.
"Uh. Yeah," Tony replied as he took the Philip's Head out of his mouth and started with the star of Bucky's arm.
"I was supposed to kill you too," Bucky said. Granted, he didn't exactly say when or where… Despite wanting a reason to be angry or ashamed of something else, Bucky didn't want to reveal he had been the assassin that killed Tony's parents.
Tony slid his rolling chair down a bit, so he was next to Bucky's lap. The man tilted his head with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Look, I didn't think this speech needed to be given, but here. I'm going to say it. And I'm only saying it once. I hate you. I want you dead. You're a brat that doesn't even know why he's a brat because he's had a shitty life and do I partly feel sorry for you? Sure, maybe a bit, because you're the longest prisoner of war in history, but I think your contributory abetting constitutes some ground for an execution considering what you've done is at a federal level of espionage and assassination. You have continued to kill some of the God damned brightest minds in history and you sit there taunting it not because you really want to, but because you don't know how to behave any differently. I'll bet you hate yourself. I'll bet you look into mirrors and punch them or start crying. Hell perhaps both. But if you think I'm going to sit around and take your childish shit just because Soldier Boy over here is my friend, you've got another thing coming. I won't kill you. I won't even lay a finger on you. I'll find other ways to torture your twisted soul until it's practically in shambles and you jump off my roof. Got it?"
The room fell into a heavy silence. Tony huffed once and then scooted back up to the arm where he began working once more. Bucky blinked a few times, not sure where to look. Stark was….terrifyingly right. He'd said those words fully aware he'd affect the man in a negative way…just to get a rise out of him. Just to further perpetuate his monstrous identity. "Got it," he responded softly, his voice cracking.
Tony didn't respond. He didn't need to. He'd said his piece and nothing else needed to be evaluated. Steve on the other hand looked like he was fighting with what he was going to say but resulted in walking away toward a corner with Sam to speak in hushed whispers. Natasha was on her back, her legs flung over the armrests of the leather couch, swinging lazily. Bucky had never felt true embarrassment, perhaps a bit here and there when he did something a bit stupid out in the field (which he rarely did anything stupid), or with Steve recently, but now…it was a frozen, harrowing feeling that resided so deep down he wasn't sure if his stomach was on fire or ice cold. He could spontaneously combust and he'd be grateful for it…
"Shit," Stark said, flinging himself atop his rolling chair across the room toward a holo-computer. He pulled up a design of the arm; blue hues gently glowed and flashed green and red in some areas. "Houston, we have a problem…"
Everyone gathered around his holo-computer. Bucky leaned as forward as he could with shackled wrists.
"So, good news, I have deactivated most of the tracking devices. Bad news, if I deactivate the last one from here, and not a Hydra base, he gets one hell of a lethal injection right into the brain via this tube…" He pointed to the red flashing wire on the floating image. "Ripping the arm off isn't going to work either. It'll still trigger."
"So we have to go to a Hydra base to deactivate the last one?" Steve asked.
"And that's just tracking devices," Tony said, chewing on the butt of the Philip's head. "He's got a half dozen other fail safes in there I can't even begin to touch."
Steve ran his fingers tirelessly though his hair, running his fingers down his face, pulling the skin as he did so, making him look momentarily like an English Bulldog.
"I…don't like admitting this, but I need another brain."
"About time you realized that…" Natasha teased.
"We need Banner," Tony said, leaving Natasha's remark to be forever unanswered. "Honestly, we need Mr. Fantastic, and maybe even Parker. I don't want to be in the room when he blows up."
"So he has explosives in him?" Sam asked, looking back at Bucky like he was a ticking time bomb.
"Not…technically. He'll blow, but it won't be like a fire explosion. More of a ….gooey, squishy, organs-flinging around kind of explosion. Do you honestly think I'd let that get in my hair?" Tony ran his fingers gently through his dark hair, just for flair.
"So we call Banner," Steve said. "In the meantime, Sam, Natasha and I will go to a Hydra base and deactivate his last tracking device."
"Please don't bring Parker around, he's such a brat," Natasha said.
"It was a suggestion. Though I'd need someone…more or less as smart as me if Banner's dropped off the face of the world. Last time you found him in India. Where is he this time? Saving the world in Singapore?"
"Europe. He's in Edinburgh doing some research for the university," Natasha responded.
"How do you know everything?" Sam asked.
"It was published in a magazine," she retorted.
"So, it's great that you're all talking about me like I'm not here, I can't say I'm not used to it, but…this just means I should leave," Bucky said. "I'm not going to risk your lives for this."
"Wow. He has a heart. When did that happen?" Tony exclaimed sarcastically.
"Fuck you, Stark," Bucky responded. "Can I get out of these restrains now?"
Tony pressed a button on his watch and the restraints folded back into the chair. "You're very not welcome."
Bucky merely answered with a sneer.
"Bucky, that's not an option. We can handle this," Steve said.
Bucky felt his heart drop. He wanted to believe that. Truth be told, he wanted to stay. Every fiber of his being had only done one thing and one thing only…prove that somewhere deep down, he'd been a real man, with fears and dreams. "I can't ask you to do this for me. I still don't even know you."
"But you do know me, Bucky." Steve crossed the room, standing in front of Bucky, placing his large hands on each shoulder. The same gentle warming pulse erupted in Bucky's skin. He suppressed a moan, coughing instead. "I'm with you pal, till the end of the line. You said that to me once… and that's just how it's going to be."
Bucky didn't want to look into his eyes. He didn't want to see those big ocean blues full of optimism, loyalty and respect. He didn't want to see that jaw line with its perfect contours. He didn't want to see cheek bones worthy of a model. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hide in shame. How could someone so light be so loyal to someone so dark? "Just remember I didn't ask you to do this," Bucky responded.
Steve laughed, spinning away, his back straightening and his eyes hardening. "Natasha, you'll be in charge of deactivation. Sam, you and me will be a distraction. Stark, can you get a hold of Banner? Get him on one of your jets over here?"
"Yeah, no prob," Tony said, flicking open his cell phone and walking toward the kitchen section of the penthouse.
"We can do this, Bucky," Steve said, his teeth flashing in a goofy smile.
Bucky just pursed his lips, looking at the furthest corner of the room he could find. Damn, when Stark was right, he was right. Bucky did hate himself. He hated every moment he stood here, feeling once again like a burden, like a slave…but now it was even worse. He was a foolish slave… one that actually thought there was hope for a future.
See the joke I made? Did you?! I was proud of that joke... (Elevators, if you missed it, lol)