Chapter 12
[Emily's POV]
As soon as I stepped foot on the compound, a familiar presence brushed against my consciousness.
Emily! Wanda screamed through our telepathy.
Hi Wanda, I answered back, smiling. I offered my arm to Melina, who took it gratefully. The poor girl was still shaken up, even though it had been a few hours since the incident. Have I got a lot to tell you. Everyone dispersed when we got in, and I headed straight for my room. As soon as I opened the door, I was tackled by Wanda. I laughed and hugged her tightly in return.
"I missed you so much!" she sighed, squeezing me one last time before pulling away. "What happened? Steve didn't tell us any details." I invited Wanda into my room and we both sat down on my bed. I folded my legs underneath myself and recounted the scary tale of what had happened only a few hours earlier. She gasped and her eyes went wide as I mentioned how Bucky had broken his ankle trying to attack the perp. "Emily! Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I dismissed her, waving my head. Unconsciously, my hand began to rub my throat. "I mean, I am a bit sore from where the guy head-locked me, but it'll pass. Speaking of which, my wings are actually doing better. Super healing really comes in handy." Wanda chuckled at that and we talked until the sun was high in the sky.
There was a light tapping on my door around noon, when Wanda and I were sprawled out on my bed, focusing in on an intense game of rock-paper-scissors.
"Come in!" I called out, not taking my eyes off of Wanda's hands. We threw down and I won the game with paper to her rock. She groaned and grabbed a pillow, shoving it into her face.
"How are you so good at this game?" she moaned. She took her pillow off and narrowed her eyes at me. "You don't have precognition powers...do you?" I giggled and shook my head, turning to see who our guest was.
"What's up, Clint?" I asked, pulling my legs into a criss-cross position. The old man was dressed up with a plaid shirt with worn-in jeans.
"Wanted to check up on you," Clint admitted, coming over and sitting down next to Wanda. "It's not everyday when my protegee gets headlocked in the middle of the night by some weirdo."
"How can I be your protegee?" I snorted, rolling my eyes. "So far I've come nowhere near a bow and an arrow since I got here."
"It's not my fault I don't trust you around pointy objects," Clint fired back playfully. "Ok, enough funny business. Real reason I'm here. We're having takeout tonight and I drew the short straw to gather everyone's orders." Wanda tapped her chin in concentration.
"I want something spicy," she concluded, nodding with satisfaction. She turned to me. "What about you?"
I stopped to think for a small moment. "Taco. I would kill something for a taco right now."
"You are killing something," commented Clint as he stood up and walked towards the door. "A cow."
He got a face full of pillow for that.
:/:\:
[Bucky's POV]
I slammed my fists harder and harder into the punching bag, gritting my teeth as I did so.
I almost killed her. Emily. The one person who didn't treat me like I was a kicked dog.
I growled with frustration, flipping around and slamming my foot into the bag before falling back into my routine of punching. I went as fast and as hard as I could, relishing the feeling of warm blood trickling down my one good hand. I licked my dry lips and felt a surge of hopelessness well up in me. I let out a yell of frustration before slamming my metal arm into the bag. The punching bag's cables snapped and the bag went flying across the gym, slamming into the boxing arena. I panted, pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I couldn't lose control again.
"I know you do anger management sometimes, but did the punching bag really deserve to be mauled and assassinated?" a sly voice commented. I flipped around, seething, as Natasha stood by the doorway, an eyebrow raised. "What did it ever do to you?"
"Go away, Romanova," I hissed, flipping around. I stalked over to the punching bag and grabbed it, yanking it up. I could feel her presence behind me in an instant, so I swung myself around, whipping the bag with me. She dropped to the ground and the bag missed her by a few inches. When she came up, she threw a punch towards my defenseless side. I let go of the bag and using my left hang, grabbed her wrist before she could actually make physical contact. Then, I slapped her across the face with my free right hand. She gasped before turning back towards me. She ducked underneath my arm, twisting it awkwardly. Within seconds I was on the ground, hissing as the Russian pushed my arm higher and higher on my back.
"Looks like the old man is a little rusty," Natasha chuckled, and I burned with rage.
"Don't you know the meaning of 'go away'?" I screamed, lashing my leg out. It caught her in the ankle and she collapsed down beside me. I panted, resting my forehead on the cool tile floor. "P-Please..."
"You went dark and almost killed Emily Salgado when you both were in Germany," Natasha stated, almost matter-of-factly. I flipped around and stared at her with wide eyes. "It wasn't your fault. You can't control the episodes."
"I should've felt it coming on and gone away, or not signed up in the first place!" I yelled, slamming my fist into the floor. It left a large crack and I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I could have killed her."
"Yeah," commented Natasha, leaning against the boxing arena's floor. "But you didn't." She stared pointedly at me. "That's the Barnes inside of you. Sure, you could say that Clint was the one who actually saved her, but listen to me when I say this: the Winter Soldier has over a dozen kills. You know I've seen you up close and personal when you were under and had a mission. You could have killed Emily without even going into the room. If you had to go into the room. one slug and she would've been gone. Two and no one would've noticed until you were back in your room or gone. You chose, subconsciously, to choose the messiest way in order to prevent yourself from killing her. Why headlock her? You gave Emily a chance to survive. A chance to fight back." Natasha got up and winced as she put pressure on her ankle. "I'm just saying, a trained KGB assassin wouldn't do that. A gentlemen from 1940s who lived in Brooklyn? Yeah, he would. James Buchanan Barnes would."
Natasha flipped her hair before limping out of the gym, leaving me alone to my silence.
A/N: Hey y'all! Almost over 3,000 views. This makes me the happiest little tyke ever! Chapter 12 is done. Chapter 13 should be coming hopefully sooner than Chapter 12 did ::winces::. If anybody has any idea of something they would like to see (like a mission gone right ;p), please leave a review! I'm kinda hitting writer's block with this and not sure what to do next :)