Mosaic

by FlyingRedPanda

(Bucky/OC, Winter Soldier x OC) "The broken pieces… take the ones you do have, the ones you'll find, the ones you'll make and build something… build someone, who you could live with." A story about two people and their interactions with each other, the people they come across, and the world around them. All while being hunted by friend and foe alike. (Re-editing, still posting new)

11. Valeriy Ayers - Ice Packs

AN: if I don't stop editing this, it'll only get longer and longer...

.

(Edited 2018 09 14)

.

Chapter 11: Valeriy Ayers -Ice Packs

.

.

. ** .

.

"Val, psst. Wake up."

"Fuck off," I groaned, pulling a pillow over my head. Anything to muffle her voice more than just the earplugs.

"You might want to get up. Probably in the next couple of seconds or so…."

"The hell you want, Eve!? The sun isn't even up! And it's fucking summer!"

"Sergeant Barnes… he…"

"Booked it to the ends of the Earth?"

"I could only hope. But, no. He's in some… trouble…?"

At that, I jumped onto my feet, clumsily clawing into my clothes while trying to shove one of my earbuds into place. Even almost forgot my taser in my rush. "Where is he?!"

"…."

"Eve!"

"Back door. Hop two fences left. The house in front of this one."

Grabbing the crutches on the way, I raced for the back door. Half tumbled downstairs no thanks to that stupid ankle of mine.

"Where's the bloody gun?" I demanded, staring into a clearly empty drawer.

It shouldn't be empty. It wasn't supposed to be empty. But it sure as shit was now.

'Urgh, I don't have time for this shit,' I thought, wrapping a scarf around my face. Something to hide some of me.

"…With Sergeant Barnes."

"…?"

Climbing over two fences with a crutch was a dumb idea. Don't know how the hell I managed to avoid a sleeping dog in the front yard of the second house.

'Holy hell. The fuck happened here?'

The house across from ours, their upstairs window was smashed in.

This was going to be a crime scene.

Testing out the front door with my shirt wrapped around the knob, I was locked out.

'Why didn't I bring my lockpicks? Or anything that can be of use…?' I wondered, making quick work of my hair. Used the ends of my scarf as hair tie. 'Note to self, keep a couple Bobby pins on me at all times.'

"Key's under the orange pansies."

"People actually do this?"

'Why bother locking anything…?'

But it's definitely better than my plan of breaking in with the crutch.

Utter darkness greeted me inside. Only the light coming through the front door kept me rooted to the spot, unable to go further inside and unwilling to run off with my tail between my legs.

"Get it together, you idiot. He's not here," I mumbled to myself, forcing my hand to close the door and flip the lock.

There was a window. The street lamp would still spill into the little foyer. Still not enough to chase away the darkness.

My heart rate skyrocketed into my throat. My instincts screaming at me to run for it. I barely managed to swallow a yelp when a light beamed from right next to me.

"Better?" Eve having turned on my phone screen for the light.

"Ye-yeah, thanks…."

From my pocket, the screen lit up enough of the house for me to navigate upstairs without having to waste a hand to hold it. Made hobbling upstairs with a crutch much easier, since I didn't have to juggle a phone and a taser in one hand. It barely kept my hold from losing to the insanity of fear.

Over the clacking of my crutch that I couldn't silence no matter how I moved, a soft groan practically split the eerie silence of the house. A shiver raced down my spine.

It couldn't be Bucky.

It damn well better not be Bucky.

The man's built like a tank. Nothing I could see in the house was broken. That groan couldn't be from him.

If it was… we're completely fucked.

The closer to the top of the steps I got, the louder a steady thumping echoed off the walls.

'Ah shit, it's still happening…. Oh shit! It's still happening! Shit. Shit…. Is that blood I'm smelling?! Shitshitshit!'

Light leaked out of a room down the hall. I took a moment to turn off my phone screen. The element of surprise would be my friend in this situation.

There was only one thing moving in the small bedroom. A shadowed figure pounding a fist into another lit up by a knocked over lamp on the floor.

The lighting made everything unsettling. Reminiscent of a horror movie. Except this wasn't.

There wasn't a screen between me and the blood gushing out of a clearly busted nose. I highly doubt that was the only thing broken on the man.

The woman's body flopped over a tiny bed, that wasn't an actress. The pool of blackness growing under her, that wasn't some recipe. The silver glint of a knife jammed in her back, that wasn't a prop.

There was even blood smeared across the blue wall above an overturned dresser. The red only marred by the white scratch marks dug into the paint.

All of this wasn't fake.

At least the one groaning wasn't Bucky. Pretty sure that would be more of a horror story.

'Deal with angry guy there, make sure everybody's knocked out and unable to remember our faces. Then find Bucky…. Yeah, sounds like a plan… ish. Damn shit. Can't make them forget.'

Didn't have Amber's blends on me.

'Fuckety fuck fuck. Taser and words will have to do.'

Shooting it from outside of the room would likely miss… so that left me with trying to silently move on a crutch. At least with the broken window, my reflection wouldn't give me away.

One moment I was staring at a back and the next, wild blue eyes bore right into mine. A bloodied hand wrapping around my neck before I could even flinch. The taser slapped out of my hand, dented the wall before clattering to the floor.

'Oh shit.'

"Recognise me?" I managed to say through the snug grip.

I got an almost careful nod from Bucky. His eyes dropped to his hand and he backed away. Scared.

'Find Bucky: check.'

He glanced at the man whose face he practically caved in. When his blue eyes settled back on me, they were so helpless. His features twisting into a chaotic mess of terror, panic and revulsion.

I took a moment to clear my throat, hoping that my voice would be somewhat normal when I talked to him. "I'll take care of this. Go. Follow her instructions."

I removed my earbud and held it out to him. I had no idea how I'd deal with this without Eve in my ear. Though, hopefully, one of her Puppets was already on their way here.

Bucky shook his head, pulling one from his pocket. "I didn't – He was… V – "

"No names," I quickly spat out, taking in the extent of destruction in the room and trying to figure out some game plan to spin this. "You need to get out of here. I'll take care of this. Now go."

The massive man ground his teeth at the order, but his feet started to move.

'…Can't pin this on the woman. No way she could have done that damage to his face… right…?'

"There's a kid," Bucky whispered as he passed me by. "I'm sorry."

Alone with two bodies, I could only sigh at the lovely mess on our hands. One's alive. Not too sure about the woman though.

I shoved the earbud back into place and picked up my taser, pocketing it. "Make sure he's safe, will you?"

"Your faith in Mr. Barnes worries me."

"I seriously doubt he just snapped and did all this. Just keep him safe, will you?"

"…Easier said than done, but if I must. This puts a damper in my plans…. I need you to keep this place secure. I have people on route."

I rolled my eyes, kneeling next to the stabbed woman only to be kicked in the back of my ribs. Then a barrage of arm whacks to the head.

"Don't hurt her anymore!"

"Whoa there!" I grabbed onto a pair of little arms, and it was back to the kicking. "Where the f – ish did you come from?"

Bucky wasn't kidding about a little one in the house. A feisty one at that. I could only hope that he didn't see all this as it was going down.

"Let go! Let go of me!"

"Quit struggling will –"

A third arm smacked me upside the head.

"Mommy!" the boy cried out.

"Oh god, she's alive."

Maybe…? She wasn't moving again. Hopefully, she's just passed out.

"Mommy!?"

"Nope, don't touch her," I chided, catching the kid before he could jump on his mother. "Should not move the knife…. Yup, should not move that… probably."

The little blond boy quickly backed away from the equally blonde woman. That shiner he sported was rather worrisome though.

'Brave enough to protect the mother, huh? I can use that,' I thought, feeling a tad sleazy with myself. "You want to save her? I can get her the best doctors."

He quickly nodded at that.

"Then do as I say, or I'll pull out the knife and she can bleed to death, 'kay? And I'll know if you don't, I have eyes everywhere."

Or at least Eve did.

"Now please tell me you have a freezer with stuff in it?"

"In the garage…" he mumbled. His eyes to the floor, his foot toeing the floorboards and his hands likely holding each other behind his back.

"Go empty it. Bring everything up here. We need to slow her body down. Let's save your mum, 'kay?"

With a nod, the boy scampered off.

The knife was in the lower back… probably shouldn't have much in terms of vital organs? So I just have to keep her from bleeding out before help arrives.

'Yeah, totally feasible… hopefully.'

"Please tell me help's almost here. We can't let them die."

Whatever happened here, Bucky wasn't going to turn into a killer. He didn't want to be one, so he's not going to be one. Not when I got Eve who could help me shuffle money around to fly this under the radar, and if need be Amber, who's able to pull medical miracles like nobody's business.

Bucky's not going to be a killer today.

I pulled at the mother, until her legs were on the bed and upper half was off the bed.

'Am… I doing this right…? Keep the wound above the heart… yeah?'

"You should have never ordered me to inform you when Sergeant Barnes runs into any trouble. You shouldn't have left the house. He could have killed you. They've seen his face, and now they know you exist. The only thing that didn't go wrong here is that you managed to keep the child here. Better than having him screaming down the street."

I huffed, opening a drawer and grabbing one of the shirts to gather up the broken window glass. "Not the time. Still need to keep them alive. Not turning him into a killer."

"They saw his face," Eve insisted. "The boy saw yours, if the conversation I hear was anything to go by."

I understood perfectly at what she was getting at. That this would be a whole lot simpler if none of them were alive. The dead were easier to silence.

Disappearing them and fixing the window before anybody's the wiser. That's probably our bet. They wouldn't be found to tell anyone about us, and they wouldn't be dead. Win-win.

"Someone's put in a call about the broken window…. This is not going as planned…."

'Fuck.'

Disappearing them was no longer viable. Had to stomp out the curiosity to peek out of the window. Eve's covering outside and I'm her eyes on the inside.

"Put them into a coma until we're in the clear or something," I decided. That should shut the adults up at the very least. "Does the kid have someone he can stay with?"

"...I'd rather make an uncle. Keep an eye on him and not uproot his life too much. Let him visit the hospital. Should make him more cooperative with us."

"Sounds like a plan."

"He's a child. He's bound to talk."

"I might be able to buy his silence."

Tossing the glass outside the broken window, I spotted the kid returning into the room with an armful of frozen produce.

"Avoid the knife. Pile it on her."

"Who are you?" the boy demanded, carefully placing the pack of ice on his mother.

"Nobody. You'll be going to your uncle's."

"…I don't have an uncle."

"You do now. He'll take care of you, and we'll take care of your mum."

"What about him?" That kid did not like the man with the caved in face at all.

"You forget about me and the man who was here, and you'll never have to see this guy again. How does that sound?"

"Daddy, he won't hurt Mommy anymore…?"

"Yup, as long as you don't say anything about this morning. We were never here. All that happened was your parents got into a fight. You didn't see anything. Deal?"

He nodded, rubbing at his eyes.

'Ah shit. He's crying. I don't deal with crying people,' I thought, kneeling down in front of the boy.

But then, he turned tail and ran right out of the room. "I'm getting more food!"

"And I'll keep tossing glass…."

Discreetly… somehow…. Make it seem like someone didn't break in. That it was the maybe fake domestic fight that broke the glass.

Unexpectedly, fingers wrapped around my calf.

"The fu–Shit!"

Throwing glass at the guy was not… of any help. Nor was my head bouncing off the floorboards. With my world spinning, it probably was only a matter of time before he made my good ankle match the bum one with all the yanking.

Instinctively, my hand groped blindly at the floor for anything I could use to whack him with or something to stop my body from being dragged. When I finally managed to find my crutch, I swung only to have it caught in the wall. Slammed right through the drywall and got caught on a stud.

"Oh, bloody hell."

Before I could free the stupid metal support of mine, fat fingers wrapped around my neck. Fingers with the full weight of a man screaming down at me.

There wasn't much sense to the garbling, but blood sure got all over me.

'You better not fucking have AIDS!' Or anything contagious.

"Val…? Your oxygen levels have plummeted. Your stress levels have spiked…."

I couldn't reply. I couldn't find my voice. Not with it being squeezed out of me.

"…What is that blabbering? What the hell's happening in there!?"

No matter how I squirmed around struggling with everything I had, he just wouldn't budge. His knee planted right up against my ribs. Only a matter of time before my bones caved to this fat bastard!

"If you need your taser, you usually keep it in one of your back pockets."

I had to fight my instincts to continue with the struggling. Knew I had to let go. Free up a hand to grab the taser and send electricity flooding into the body above mine.

The muscles in my neck twitched from where his hands clenched down. A punch to the side of his head helped guide him away from landing on my face.

Gasping for breath, I pulled my legs out from under his. Be it temper or paranoia, I unleashed the taser on him a couple more times.

"Enough. I thought you wanted to save him."

"Please… don't hurt him," a weak voice begged. The woman. The wife. The mother.

I fought for every breath, scrambling across the floor for distance. "Shit. He's got me all over him."

My skin was more than likely under those jagged nails of his.

'Ah shit, forgot to ask Bucky if he was scratched….'

Then again, his D.N.A. could be in the wounds on the fat bastard's face. Maybe even between his teeth. Not good. Not good at all.

Checking through the drawers, I found a mechanical pencil. In a pinch, it'd do for getting rid of nail scrapings of both the parents.

'…His hair wasn't tied up. Shit….'

My eyes searched the floor for any strands of medium length brown hair.

"We need a cleaner. I can't do all this in time," I half panicked and almost lost my cool completely when I spotted a familiar cap. One that usually sat on the dresser in Bucky's room.

'Just what else did he leave here?'

"I need a vacuum. Oh, I fucking need a bloody vacuum cleaner."

"We'll take care of everything. Get to the back alley. You need to be gone before people arrive."

"Huh? O-okay…?"

That didn't sit quite right with me, much like this room. So clean except for the blood and upturned furniture. No pictures in the room. Nothing on the walls. Couldn't even find toys for what was clearly the kid's room.

But we were out of time.

With a shrug, I grabbed the cap, checking that there weren't any strands of Bucky's hair left behind. Yanked my crutch out of the wall on my way down to the back door, and in my rush, almost bowled the kid over.

"Hey kid. Everything will be alright. Help's here. Your mum's under my care so long as you forget me and the man who was here. We were never here. Got it?"

The little boy gave a tense nod and scurried around me with an arm full of frozen goods.

As the front door opened, I quickly slipped out the back. I pulled on Bucky's cap so the bill would hide more of me, and froze in the alleyway.

'….'

There was an idling car just a house over.

'…So much for an unnoticed getaway.' I looked suspicious as fuck with the scary weirdly wrapped all about my head.

"Climb in."

I made sure my face was covered. The less anybody knew about me at this point, the better.

With a deep breath in, I opened the door and dropped myself into the backseat. The driver and I never exchanged a word. Didn't even glance at each other. I had no idea who she was, and knowing Eve, this driver hasn't a clue as to who I could be.

Nor the next car I hopped into.

Nor the next.

And with every car I got into, the more it sunk in. This was not how I imagined parting ways with Bucky. The little house was now far too dangerous for either of us. We both had to get out of D.C. now. It was semi safe when everyone thought we'd have booked it out of the city. That's no longer the case. Not with the kid and his parents.

'…What am I doing back –?!'

I practically raced into the house I've been trapped in for the last few weeks.

"What the fuck am I doing back here?!" I demanded, slamming the back door shut behind me and storming my way to the kitchen sink to clean the blood off me. "Eve!"

I shouldn't be here. I couldn't be back here. Not after that. This location's likely compromised or about to be.

"I can't move you," Eve replied, using the speakers now.

"Just what the hell is going on!?"

"Valeriy?" Bucky called out, coming into the house through the basement door at the crack of dawn.

"What the fuck are you doing here!?"

He stumbled back a step and almost right down the steps. Fear so clear in those bright blue eyes. "I-I can explain –"

"I can't – Shit. Just go sit on the couch, Bucky. I'll be right there," I said, scrambling to turn all the bloodied parts of the scarf inwards.

A frown pulled at the corner of his lips, but yet he still turned on a heel and walked into the living room.

If Eve brought Bucky back here as well, something was very wrong.

Whatever's happening, she still had plans that involved him. She would have jumped at the chance to squirrel him away. Far away from wherever we were until she was sure that he wouldn't hurt any of us because he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

'Just what kind of fucked up trouble am I in…?'

"They're alive," I told him, hoping to lift the tension that hung in the air.

It helped buy some time too. To grab the roll of paper towels and fill a bowl with water. To quickly adjust the scarf to cover any bruising. To hide all the blood on me. At least my shirt was black. A white one would have looked horrifying.

"The mom's alive?" With how small his voice was, it's almost painful to listen to. As if he couldn't dare to hope.

"Yup," I chirped, sitting down next to him. A smile slapped on my face.

Bucky yanked his hand back when I grabbed onto it. Practically flinched at the contact.

"Hey, it's okay. They're both alive. The kid's safe. Now, let me get that blood off you."

He didn't move away this time. Just sat there frowning. "…I wasn't the one who…. I didn't stab her."

I couldn't help the laugh, which I quickly muffled at his massive frown. "Already figured that wasn't you, Bucky."

I carefully tucked this hair behind his ears so he knew exactly what I was ding and not mistaken it for a slap. I wanted to wipe away the droplets of blood splattered across his cheeks and nose preferably before he got a clear look at it in a mirror. I could only hope that the windows he passed by weren't cleaned for a few years. He didn't need to see this.

There's only so much I could do with paper towels. He'd probably need a shower. Some blood got in his hair. Definitely got more than some in mine as well.

"Not too surprised about what happened," I continued. "Seems to be what you naturally do. Saving people."

Bucky's brow furrowed even more at the last bit. Rather tempted to try and push them part. Or to poke the corners of his mouth into some semblance of his norm. Maybe even a small smile.

I liked his smile. It's pretty. And might never happen again. Unless he forgot himself… maybe.

Wiping the last little splatter off his cheek, I quirked a brow at him. "What? She's covered in bruises and his hands are all banged up. It's not hard to give you the benefit of the doubt either. Especially since I'm one of the people you saved, Bucky."

He let me move onto his hand, instead of yanking it away again. His knuckles weren't even marred after what happened. Pretty sure that was the hand he was using. His metal arm would have struggled with him and probably would have left the man dead.

I guess his skin's been enhanced for durability. 'But it's still so soft and smooth. What the fuck? So not fair.'

I highly doubt he bothered with a blood skincare routine. Naturally flawless. Or maybe it had something to do with being super healthy. Or the sped up healing.

"The father… he saw my face," he admitted in a small voice, panic seeping into the syllables. "Valeriy, the kid. They both saw –"

"It's been taken care of."

"What the hell did you do?"

"Bit of advice I learned from sticking my nose where I shouldn't have. Can't un-know things, so be careful what you ask."

'Oh, now he thinks we're like Hydra.' At least that's what it felt like with how he looked at me, backing away.

"They're not dead. Isn't that good enough? We're making sure they stay alive. The father will be kept away from the kid. It's what the kid wants," I explained to him.

"…And the kid? What's going to happen to him?"

I shrugged. "Eve's keeping an eye on him. He'll have someone to look after him."

'Don't ask how I'm shutting the kid up. Don't ask about the mother. Please don't ask about the mother.'

I won't lie to him, and I doubt he'd be alright with how we're going to keep her in a coma for who knows how long. How I threatened a kid with his mother's life. He might put the blame for my actions on himself. I couldn't have that.

"If the two of you don't mind spending most of your time upstairs quietly, then I can put the anthropophobic author in play. I can't completely trust the soundproofing of this house."

"How about we clean up? And then we'll get cracking on that arm of yours."

Whatever the fuck's going on, it's better for him to have use of both his arms. As soon as possible.

Bucky didn't respond. Not entirely sure he processed what I said. He merely stared at the scarf around my neck, the guilt pouring out of him enough to choke a person.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his right hand reaching out towards me.

The moment I spotted him hesitating, I tilted my head into his hand. He backed away so fast as if I was on fire. Shock and horror so clear in those blue eyes.

I flashed him a toothy grin. Easily. Naturally. Nothing forced to it. "You didn't hurt me, Bucky."

"Then what's that bruise you're covering…?"

"Uhhh… Not caused by you? The fat bastard was rather… umm energetic? To which, before I forget to ask, do you want us to fix his face? We're going to keep him alive either way."

It's rather amusing watching Bucky's thoughts morph the features of his face. The doubt. The anger. The utter confusion as to what the hell was coming out of my mouth.

"Why ask me?" were the words he decided on.

"You're probably the only one who'd care? Eve and I don't give a fuck. Though I do have half the mind to wire his jaw shut. The fat bastard could rot alive and the kid probably wouldn't bat an eye?"

'The wife might care, for some reason beyond me.'

"So the decision's yours. You can think about it over a shower. You'll feel better… probably. I need one too."

I did not expect Bucky to grab the end of the scarf when I headed for the stairs. Would have choked if he didn't let go as fast as he did.

I quickly unravelled the thin piece of cloth and grabbed his right hand, fitting it around my neck. "None of the bruises match, yeah?" Hoping to hell that was true.

Some sort of struggle could be seen on his face as his eyes flicked from my neck to my face. Almost questioning me about something I couldn't piece together. Like he couldn't believe that he wasn't the one to mar the skin… maybe? But judging by how his fingers kept moving, he couldn't find anything that matched his hand.

"This needs to be iced," he said after some time.

"Probably. But I want to shower first. I can still feel his grubby paws on me."

At that, Bucky's knees bent, and his shoulder knocked right where a knee had been before he hoisted me up. A quick push with my hands moved my weight off that sore spot.

"I shouldn't have left you alone," he murmured.

"Eh, I came out in one piece. Pretty used to things going sideways. Besides, I wanted you far away from that mess. Somewhere safe."

I could hear a little huff from him. Though I felt most of it from the small shift of his shoulder I was draped over.

"Val, your parents are asking if you want those chocolate mints from Harrods'. How many boxes?"

That came out of the blue. I haven't been expecting anything. Especially with how I'm basically out of commission to them.

"Thre – Bucky? You like chocolate mints?"

The shoulder under me raised in what I assumed to be a shrug.

"It's yummy. And crunchy. And melty. Five boxes please and thank you!"

"I shall pass that on and cut it down to three. You're going to get sick of it by box two."

To which I pouted like the child I am when I wanted to shove a bunch of sugar in my face.

As Bucky lowered me onto my feet in my bathroom, he mumbled into the top of my head. "Thank you… for stopping me."

"What are friends for?" I shot back.

"…Fix his face. It doesn't have to be perfect." With that, he closed the door behind him on his way out, and I beamed a smirk at the camera.

"…Honestly wasn't expecting that answer. I'm off my game."

"Get on the bloody doctors already."

.

. ** .

.

"Aaaand… there. How's that? That do anything?" I asked, twisting two stripped wire ends together and pulling my tweezers out of Bucky's arm.

Those silver fingers made a fist. The movements slightly less twitchy than it was before. I could hear a gear whirring and skipping. Going to have to find that, eventually. It made the little tech geek left in me cringe. And with that spark of blue, I knew there were loose wires deeper in the arm.

"Better," Bucky replied, still testing out his finger movements.

At that, I dropped one set of tweezers on my chest and blindly tapped on the muscled side next to me. My hand grabbed at the air and waited when the clacking of ball bearings filled the room.

After a minute, Bucky handed me a can. A system we worked out over the last three days to use the epoxy spray to connect and waterproof the wires without me losing the damn wire trying to shake a stupid can.

"And that should be everything on the surface level," I announced, tossing the can back to him.

"There's not much of a difference."

"The more important things should be towards the center? Better protected there. I'm guessing that's where we'll see the biggest improvements."

With a sigh, I started digging deeper into the arm, moving things a little to peek behind them and searching anything to be pushed back into place or a wire that needed reconnecting. I knew a few people who'd take all this apart in a fit of rage just so they could reorganize the mess in here. I was very close to becoming one of those people.

"You're not running for the bathroom as much anymore," Bucky pointed out after a few more reconnected wires.

I huffed in response. It's why it took three days to get to deal with most of the surface damage. As good of a spot I was in a couple minutes ago, going deeper into the arm definitely unsettled my stomach. Again.

"You've helped a bunch though," I commented. "Kept me out of my head. You haven't flipped out either, for how much of a fuss you made before we started."

"This arm could crush you," he retorted almost instantly.

I laughed, shoving a gear into place. "Got my arm caught up in a security door or two, so nothing new. If that helps."

"No. It doesn't. It really doesn't."

"Ehh," I shrugged.

Broken bones and the like never bothered me much unless I was in this very situation. Stuck and probably surrounded. Otherwise being an Ayers meant I head the best treatment. Only took a couple of months to be all dandy to do the next thing that pops into my head. That was if I felt like being patient enough to be fully healed between bouts of utter stupidity.

Finding another broken wire, I couldn't help but think, 'Well, don't you look important?'

Being all orange and hanging out of another mysterious black box with a bunch of other wires running out of it, and it was old. Very old. Like a few other wires in here. The kind I haven't seen used outside of the ancient toys Gramps' made when he was my age. Maybe even younger.

'Should probably update some of these wires…. Someday…. Maybe….'

Finding the other half of it, I stripped a portion of the insulation on each end before pulling them together for twisting.

Bucky all but screamed.

His body seized up, recoiling away from me. His right arm cradled the left, almost hiding it. His shoulders hunched over, curling in on himself.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," I quickly spewed out, scrambling to sit up.

He shook his head, shrinking away to the other side of the bed and a shuddering breath filling his lungs. His lips parted but only a whimper escaped before he slammed it shut with an audible click of his teeth. His back braced against the headboard as he tried to get his breathing under control. All to force himself to calm down.

"I'm not going to lash out at you," he mumbled bitterly.

"Huh?"

"You're watching my every move."

"Not because I think you'd go all grrr, Bucky."

His brow twitched, signaling his doubt.

A heavy sigh escaped me. "That jolt fucked with your lung, didn't it? Has it done that before?"

"A few times…."

"Has it happened before your arm got all wonky?"

Maybe that wasn't the best question to ask with how his lips pulled into a frown and the muscle in his jaw jumped. An unpleasant memory.

'I should have known that'll bite us in the ass….'

The fact that his arm was so close to his lung. That the rather important organ was partially surrounded by metal. Probably to dissipate the force onto his skeletal structure.

Still, nothing about that box screamed, 'it's a trap.' I probably fucked up with which wire to connect, hopefully. I did not want to try and connect that wire to that box again.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I… I can't gran– I'm so sorry…. It'll happen again. I have no idea what that connection is…. Might have something to do with a brain signal thing? And – and there'll be other things. And I'll fuck up again. And – "

"I can handle it."

He could. He really could. He handled hell. Those scars on his shoulder said as much. I could only hope they sedated him when they burned the vibranium alloy into him and that those were third degree burns. That he couldn't feel it anymore. That the nerves were dead. I had a sinking feeling that it wasn't the case.

The fact those scars were still red was muddling with the date as to when he got the arm. Scars said new-ish. Ancient ass wiring said decades. Should probably check in with Amber about how scars healed.

"Valeriy?" His voice so soft. "I can handle it."

I shook my head. "I can open the box. Break it down. Understand it before I do anything. It'll… it'll just take some time…."

"I can handle it. There's no reason for you to feel guilty."

I yanked off my glove, rubbing my eyes. "I'm sure you can handle it, Bucky, but that doesn't mean you have to be zapped through my idiotic guesswork. There's no bloody reason to drag you through more pain."

"…Everything's been guesswork?"

It's rather amazing how one could actually see his thoughts on his face.

"Your arm's not the easiest thing. It's an amalgamation of group work," I stated. "Then add a bunch of peeps updating and repairing it. There's so much going on in there."

'Not to mention that some asshat smeared some chemical that ate through a shit ton of wires – Oh shit… they were probably worried that there was a chance that Captain Rogers would pull him out of whatever the fuck brainwashing they did….

'Have his arm malfunction and when they try to open up his arm, why not blow everybody to shit? Yayyy. He better not fucking ask about this. 'Cause I don't want to tell him that Hydra tried using his arm to blow up his best friend.'

"You can tell more than one person built this?" Bucky asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Huh? Yup. Everyone leaves a… signature? Like how they twist the wires or solder. Things like that. Counted about seven so far? It's messy. All the repairs make it muddled. Some were probably completely replaced over the years? Makes getting an exact number practically impossible."

Whatever I said, it had him wearing his thinking face again. Teeth chewed at his bottom lip. Blue eyes seemingly read invisible words painted in the air.

"…Doesn't add up…" he whispered under his breath. The swollen bottom lip gave him a pouty look when he stopped chewing on it.

"What doesn't add up?" I asked.

"This. You."

"…Huh?"

"You sound unsure of everything, but your movements rarely hesitate…. You know this stuff better than you pretend, don't you?"

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "Sorry, not pretending. There are very few things I'm sure about. Bombs okay, I can deal with those. Fixing things? Barely. I've just been colour matching the wires?

"I know plenty of other people who are better suited for this. Gramps can take one glance at your arm and understand practically everything about it. Probably…. Looks like that to us normal folks."

"And yet, he'd have blown up with everyone else on that short list you have in your head. Maybe, except for one. They may be better at fixing things, but you had the best chance of surviving the explosives. Even I didn't think the eyes needed to be shifted over thinking they might be a safety switch."

"Should just assume everyone's a fucking sadistic bastard and a sneaky little bitch. Covers the ass better."

Just like whoever added the bomb to the arm…. It looked far too new compared to the arm and the scars. A recent addition. Or an update.

With a few waves of my hand, Bucky let me pull and push his arm into back into place. Whatever angle I needed to get into the arm and search for the damage done on purpose.

"Why would you learn to disarm bombs?" he asked out of the blue. Confusion so clear in his voice. His brows were probably knitted together. "Where would the need come from?"

"It's useful now?" I shrugged. "It used to be all fun and games? Took an interest in bombs from movies and T.V. shows. It got competitive between us after I got bored of trying to beat my best times with the old setups. Gramps an – uhh, he'd build a bunch to trip me up, and I try not to get a stink bomb to the face. I learned real fast thanks to that. I swear I took more baths in tomato juice than water back then."

At the rumbling growl next to my head, I quickly backed out of the arm barely in time to stop the tweezers from tearing out wires due to Bucky turning to face me.

When I pushed my glasses onto the top of my head, he had a glare levelled my way. Still just as intimidating as the first time. His body seemingly expanding to suck all the air from the room.

"This isn't some game," he snapped, practically seething through his clenched teeth. "I wouldn't count that as experience with actual explosives. They didn't put stink bombs in the arm, Valeriy. You could have died! Do you even realize that?!"

"But we're not dead? Nor is my father. It was supposed to be a fucking box of doughnuts. That's the last time I was alone with my father. Probably the last time he was ever alone. He has security with him at all times since. And that bomb? That was meant to go kaboom. Not like the ones in your arm."

"The ones in the arm are meant to kill."

"Yeah, but it doesn't blow up when you so much as twitch, does it? At least, you were patient enough not to demand I have bomb out by the time you count to three."

"Count of three?" he repeated. "What were you? A kid?"

"Ten? I was basically desensitized to bombs by then, thanks to those 'games.' Been at them since I had the motor skills to grasp scissors. Probably would have been blown up if I hadn't. I did not handle the counting well."

When I tried going back to his arm again, he lifted it out of my reach. Still wearing his thinking face.

"Seriously, Bucky? Fine. Eve, get something worked out for his arm to be fixed by someone el – "

"How are you even the useless daughter?"

"…Huh…?"

"You can do all this as a kid. You can't be useless."

I shrugged. "There's no way in hell I can compete with the likes of Gramps and now Amber. Yeah, sure, I could have been the go to bomb person, but that doesn't earn the corporation anything… and thus, I'm useless. So when I was given a choice to stay hidden and be forgotten, I took it.

"It's more important to me to enjoy what I'm doing. Have fun. I don't care about being the best, and it gets old real fast being told to give up since I'll never amount to anything. With the choice I made, I have the freedom to dabble in whatever I feel like. Gramps gets credited for a lot of the stuff I work on. Like the windows. Helped that my parents forgot that I'm not utterly dumb."

"How can they even forget that?" Bucky blurted out.

"They forget a lot of things all the time. I don't think they remember they have kids half the time. Father blacked out the whole bomb thing from his memories. Probably forgot about the raid. And the sniper…. And the hunting 'accident.' And whatever the fuck else I have to prevent since I took over their security. It's not even funny how many people are pissed off at them for one bloody reason or another. Though a good chunk is related to the R&D and Security Departments… of our own people…."

"Your friend…."

"Yeah, people don't like Amber messing with stuff they believe shouldn't be modified or they think she'll bring about some environmental or pandemic issue?"

"Not that. You're in charge of her security… aren't you?"

"…Yeah?"

"How are you even stuck in a house with me? Why were you even alone that night? She knew something was going to happen," Bucky pieced together, waving a hand towards the camera in the corner. "You shouldn't have been alone."

"…Because I'm not in charge of my own security? The asshat who is I can't even get fired for this crap 'cause he's like me. One of the few people in the corporation who got the job due to parents meddling and not actually earning it…. He's a kid of one of our big clients…. Eve's barely even officially involved with keeping me safe. She's using loopholes trying to cover the huge gaps the asshat leaves. I only clued into something being wrong when my security peeps decided to get fucking food poisoning as a team."

The confusion on his face was rather cute. The fact that he was still trying to understand the nonsensicalness to this part of my life was almost amusing. Amber ignored it pretty quick. Devon disliked the parts he did know about. And I knew there was no point. Just a waste of time.

"And your brother?" he tried. "Where is he in all this?"

"Well protected. Like I could trust anyone else with his safety."

"And you're stuck with someone useless? Why wouldn't you give both your children the best protection?"

I shrugged. "I have no shit as to what goes through their heads. All I know is I, as Valeriy Ayers, don't earn the corporation enough to warrant such 'extravagant spendings' or some shit like that. I'm no golden goose. Not like Gramps and Amber. Me doing the security shit might? Especially if I took on more clients like when I was younger. But that's all under a different name. So no credit to me."

"If your parents knew what you do, you'd be better protected. You'd protect yourself."

"I don't think you want Val to be the one in charge of her own protection, Mr. Barnes. She'd use herself as bait more than the rest of us are now to root out those who would try something."

It's far too easy to see on his face the moment that he agreed with Eve.

I shook my head, attempting to laugh it all off. "This gives me distance and keeps me safe-ish while letting me protect those I care for. If anyone figured out there's a shadow head to our Security Department, they'd be chasing a ghost. Not me.

"I'm not willing to pay the price for that kind of protection. Gramps and Amber are basically stuck in one place. Never alone. Practically always working. I rather have some sort of normalcy on my off hours. To be able to have the freedom to wander around. To do my own thing when I feel like it. They have none of that."

"But you'd be safe from the mess you are in now," Bucky argued, looking very much like he meant crossing paths with him.

I shook my head, knowing well that if I had picked to be recognized for what I do, I'd make myself a target of revenge and a wealth of information about our systems. That I still wouldn't earn the corporation enough to be protected at the level I needed for the amount of information in my head that could cripple us. That I'd never be good enough for my parents even if I gave it my all. They had no room for second best. So why put that on myself?

"At least, I can trust you," I stated simply.

Bucky huffed, glaring at some distant spot. "How can you trust me when I'll probably end up killing you?"

"We are talking about you, right? The guy who keeps saving me from random ass shit? Though mainly from the oven and stairs. Give yourself a little credit, Bucky."

He didn't respond. But his glare softened to a slight pout as the seconds passed. He wanted to believe it, and I wish he could see it. He's not the monster they turned him into. There's far more to him.

Besides if he had an ambitious agenda, he would have done something. Like one of my roommates in freshman year, when she figured out who I was. Or a couple of my security guards who weren't vetted properly. Thought it a good way to make a quick buck or two.

Shaking off the conversation, I asked, "Now can I get back to your arm? Or you rather we figure a way with someone else?"

"Gloves," he responded, tossing them back my way.

Had seriously hoped he forgot them.

.

. ** .

.

"Whoot! That should be it for the simple stuff!" I cheered, giggling as a gear shifted into place. "How's that?"

Bucky put his arm through the motions, even shifting the plates that were attached. There was still the slightest twitch in his fingers. Most definitely not the norm. Not for the great sniper during the Second World War from how Gramps talked about him. No amazing shots with that tremor.

But he gave a nod of approval.

"What's left are the questionable stuff…? Eve, we're going to follow the old ass orange wire. See what that's attached to," I said, repositioning the snake cam back into the upper arm.

Wiggling myself into position, we started following the orange wire. Eve controlling the snake cam, I clearing a path and Bucky keeping still or watching more Mythbusters. No idea if he's been paying attention to it.

"So, don't feel like you have to answer this but once this is all fixed up, what are your plans?" I tried when the feeling of wanting to hurl began to creep up on me.

"I… I don't know…" he muttered. "I need to get Hydra out of my head. They did something to me. There was this… chair…. I can't remember anything after I… after they… after… after…?"

"The head, huh?" I hummed.

"It hurt…." His voice cracking when he admitted it.

"If it's the head, maybe I can get Amber to look? She's been working with brain stuff for a few years now. She might figure out something? What they did. Or what you can do about it?"

"You'd put her in danger?"

"…."

Apparently, both of us knew that I'd never risk Bucky forgetting himself anywhere near Amber. I wouldn't risk her being in the same room as a child with a pair of safety scissors if I had any say. Then again, her love of deadly pathogens and poisons made everything moot.

"I can figure a way around it…? It's worth a shot."

Bucky fell into silence, and I bit my tongue. Best not shove my foot further into my mouth.

"They said I was a gift to mankind," he mumbled after a long awkward silence. "That I shaped the century. They made me sound like… like I was a hero…. That I was doing good, but I… I wasn't. I killed so many…. I tried to kill a real hero…. The man the exhibit said was my…. He was my… my mission."

'Oh shit.' The last thing anyone needed was for Bucky to dash off in a 'seek and destroy' mindset. "You're… ummm…."

"Going to stay away from him. I need to get Hydra out of my head before I even consider going near St…. I can't risk it. I need to stay away. Where I can't hurt him anymo – "

"Hold still! Both of you!" Eve demanded as a current ran rampant through Bucky's arm.

I really shouldn't have convinced Bucky to let me work without the insulated gloves. Pretty sure between Bucky's movements and mine, we ripped through at least one wire somewhere.

"Is it over? Do you want me to back out? Do you need to go hurl again?"

"I don't," I snapped, feeling the ghost of pins and needles from the shock.

"Mr. Barnes going to go berserk on us?"

"Oi! Play nice, Eve."

"Sorry," that husky voice mumbled, readjusting his arm a tad to return it to its spot perched on the top of my knees. "I didn't mean – "

"Don't sweat it, Bucky. Do you need a break?"

"I'm good."

"Then we keep going, Eve," I ordered, anchoring my elbows on my thighs and the side of my wrists against the metal plates left on his arm. "Well that sure explains the jolt. We found the power source… I think?"

For some reason or another, this thing was contained in a clear box. Made it pretty to look at and less mysterious than all the other nondescript black boxes.

"Hey Eve, doesn't this look familiar? I think that might be a… a generator? The fuck?"

"It's not a battery? Shouldn't it be a battery?" Bucky questioned.

"Actually, a generator makes a lot of sense. Little fuzzy on the exact input, but this should… probably… generates power on an as needed… basis? But I'm pretty sure I've seen this concept before…. Could probably figure out how to reboot the thing if it ever stops?"

"It doesn't match anything in the database."

"Of course it doesn't. It's not actually Gramps' work. It's one of the concepts he's tinkered with? You can back out now. I got what I needed. Just have to figure out what needs to be powered…."

The camera image backed up, as I carefully maneuvered my way out.

Bucky's been missing for seventy years. Most likely Hydra had him the whole time. Everything about the arm said that it was old. Older than me. Probably as old as my parents. Maybe older. Going by some of the wires. Some of the circuitry.

The fact that the seventies was when Gramps was driven out of alternative energies by the oil companies that ran off with a couple of his toes. Old and at the edge of its time. Of this time still.

But the scars screamed recent. Even if there were better ways to do some of the things in the arm.

"Still can't find anything that looks similar."

"I swear I've seen something like this before. Anything this old has to be from Gramps' stuff. Probably before your time too. You know what? Just gather all his notes on the thingies for me. I'm curious as to when Hydra poked around his stuff. See if we need to completely clean house."

"My house is clean," she insisted vehemently. "It's my top priority. They're not in my house!"

"Whoa, calm down, Eve. Better safe than sorry. It's not like SHIELD had any ideas."

"My house is fucking clean!"

"…Mind going back…? I missed a repair…."

With a "humph" from Eve, the camera crept forwards until I spotted the broken wire. I carefully shifted the two tweezers to one hand. One held the wire. The other gave me some room to work with. Bucky handed me the shaken polymer spray can. With the slightest movement of my left hand, the wire slid into place, ready for the polymer nozzle to get into position.

Pain slammed into my wrist, forearm and chest. Then my back. When I tried to straighten out, I couldn't. I was stuck.

"Bucky!" I called out. "Don't move! Please tell me you're still there…?"

Eve cleared the lenses of my glasses to show the room instead of static from a disconnected snake cam.

Bucky, on his feet. Eyes darted from me to the door and back. With every iteration, his shoulders tensed more and more as his fists clenched tighter and tighter.

"I'm here," he gritted out. Blood dripped from his right hand, and then the electricity must have flared up in his left. Strong enough to drop him to his knees. He needed to calm down.

"Bucky. Eyes here. Breathe with me."

"Order me to leave!" he half choked out.

"Look here and breathe with me."

"You're stuck in a wall! Tell me to leave…. Please."

"…No."

"Why the hell not?! I sent you into a wall!"

"Because I'm stuck…?"

I tried to demonstrate by flapping my hands and lower legs, but that didn't go so well. So many joints just hurt. With my elbows tucked between my stomach and thighs, I wasn't going anywhere with my ass planted in the wall.

"So would you please focus on the fact that this was all an accident?"

Really wasn't looking forward to Eve deciding that she should attempt to free me with a bloody door whack to the face and push me through the fucking wall.

A shaky breath drew into his body and those haunted blue eyes focused on me. A whirlwind of emotions in those depths. Mostly self-loathing.

I offered him a friendly smile and attempted a deep breath to set the pace only to find out that I didn't have room for that. Slow half breaths for me then.

At least Bucky seemed like he was calming down. Slowly. The shaking in his shoulders lessened. His eyes dropped to the floor.

"Is anything broken?" he asked in the smallest voice.

"Nope. I'm not you. You'd know if I was seriously injured," I joked and shut my mouth at his glare.

The man's glare was far more intense than those of the people who actually meant me physical harm when I pissed them off.

"I probably just need some ice on my ankle and wrists. And maybe to get out of this wall?"

Bucky stared down at his own hands, grimacing at the metal and blood. He wiped his right hand on the side of his shirt as he slipped his left back through the sleeve. Effectively hiding a part of himself he hated.

Unsure steps drew him closer to me. Each could be heard as if he was announcing his intentions. That he was getting closer. His shoulders slumped. His head ducked. Probably trying to make himself smaller. Less intimidating.

But all I saw was the guilt twisting that beautiful face of his.

"I'm so sorry, Valeriy."

I couldn't disguise the wince when I tried to wave off the tension with a hand and a grin. "Bucky, accidents happen."

He kept his left arm far from me when he closed the distance. Practically shuffling sideways. His right hand broke through the drywall to curl around my waist. He gently pulled and lifted me out of the hole. Again, flooring me with just how controlled his strength was. As he lowered me onto the edge of the bed, there wasn't even a tremble. He struck the perfect balance of security and lightness with his hold.

Bucky reached up with his right hand, and I met his stare with a soft smile. He hesitated for a heartbeat before his fingers dusted the top of my head, filling the air with plaster dust. He systematically plucked pieces of drywall off me.

I stayed still, letting him do whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed to help ease that vicious conscience of his. Even if it's just by a pinch.

I couldn't help the ticklish shiver that raced down my spine when the back of his fingers barely brushed against the nape of my neck.

He inhaled sharply through his nose. His foot slid him backwards. His hand snapped away, but not before I caught it in mine. He flinched, likely expecting pain or punishment, and I winced from the tenderness of my wrist.

I squeezed down on his fingers. "Bucky…" I kept my voice soft, but I didn't know how to continue. I knew there was no way I could plead away the self-loathing that consumed him.

'What would Devon do…?'

I searched my memories for answers. Anything. We never had to deal with someone who lived in such fear. Mostly of himself.

'What can I even do?'

Bucky tore his hand out of mine. He turned away, walking for the door.

"Bucky…." Again, words left me.

Shoulders sagged. Head hung low. He glanced over his shoulder for a second. "Ice."

Relief flooded me.

He wasn't booking it to the farthest corner of the world. After all, there was nothing keeping him here. I had no idea if we could keep him out of Hydra's hands if he was running from us as well.

"Are you alright, Val?"

"All good. I missed the studs. No worse than when I fuck up the landings on the balance beams."

I got off the bed to shake off the remainder of the drywall dust from my hair and clothing. Every movement was tender.

'It's going to be a pain in the ass to work with this….'

And I still needed to assess the damage done to his arm from that wild swing.

"Oh shit, please tell me he didn't hurt himself."

"I'm not the one you should be worried about," Bucky stated, coming back into the room with three bags of ice. He didn't smell of blood. His movements looked normal. "You should have strapped me down."

"What am I supposed to do? I doubt duct taping your arm to the wall would work…. Ooooh! You! When I fix up that wire, I'll have you hold down your own arm."

"I sent you into a wall, and you'd trust me not to do it again?"

"Yeah?" I shrugged, seeing no problem with it.

"How blind can you be!? I can't control myself half the time! This…! This arm…. It's stronger than me."

I grabbed onto his hand, and still, he flinched. "If this was on purpose, this would be going down very differently. And I don't doubt the arm could send me through a few walls. But this wasn't on purpose and I don't have broken bones. It's all good."

I had to tilt my head at an odd angle to chase his eyes. He refused to make any eye contact, staring at different spots in the carpet whenever my face got in the way. When he squeezed his eyes shut, I shook his hand a little.

"This was an accident, Bucky. So we'll learn and adapt. Simple. A little time to understand the generator and I'll have precautions figured out. Not entirely a reckless, dumb idiot. And I'm not the only half blind one here. We see things a little differently."

Bucky finally opened his eyes and I smiled softly. From how his features contorted, that conscience of his was absolutely vicious.

He sighed heavily, settling down on the very edge of the bed. Any closer to the edge, he'd probably slide right off. He swung his head a little, motioning for me to get off my feet.

"Look at you," he grumbled, hesitantly taking an arm of mine to check over. "You're black and blue because of me."

Maybe I should have adopted his style of long sleeved everything, as much as I hate the idea of wearing so much.

"Pretty sure I'd probably be missing chunks of myself if I hadn't met you," I countered. "Gramps is missing a couple of toes from not cooperating. I almost got my ear completely cut off. I don't know about you. But this over that any day. Cut yourself some slack, Bucky."

"If I'm around, you're not going to heal. I'm only putting you in danger."

When he turned to leave, I latched onto his hand again. But this time it was his left. The metal unyielding between my fingers. I tugged back when he tried to ease out of my grip. His fingers twitched just the slightest. His whole body went rigid. But it wasn't from his arm shocking him, I would have felt that.

"If…" I started, feeling my voice crack. "If I leave first, I'll tell you…. If you leave first, you'll tell me…? We still have that deal?"

Bucky gave a curt nod, and I had no choice but to let go. He slipped out of the room, and I had to trust that he'd keep his word. That I wouldn't wake up alone, not knowing what happened to him.

"He's locked himself in his bathroom if you're worried."

I nodded with a shaky exhale.

"I… I shall let you know if his levels indicate injuries…."

"Th-thanks."

Before any emotions about the whole accident could set in, I grabbed the ice packs and duct tape to have the bags stick to the proper spots for when I dove back into the rabbit hole of research.

Hopefully, everything had been digitized. It'd take some time to sift through about three decade's worth of scribbles. Long enough to distract me from everything else.

"Let's get down to work. Pull up Gramps' notes on the thingies, please and thank you."

"The word is generators. Use your English. It's the only language you know."

I flipped her the bird and regretted the movement.

Bucky needed space.

I respected that, so I'll back off. For a few hours.

.

. ** .

.

.