Ivy woke the next morning to find Bucky sleeping in the small armchair. He'd pulled off the sleeve he'd put on at the airport, and once again, one of the daggers which he had not given to Ivy was grasped tightly in his metal hand. As she stretched, she briefly contemplated leaving to buy him the food which he had insisted on not having. It seemed more prudent, though, to wait until he woke up; he seemed to know Russia more than she did.
As if on cue, his eyes opened slightly.
"Wakey, wakey," Ivy said dully. "You were the one who wanted to leave early. Let's go."
Wordlessly, he stood and took their bags.
"Did we forget anything?" Ivy asked.
"Not that I can see."
They checked out and headed to McDonald's at Pushkin Square. It was busier than Bucky had hoped, but he didn't argue as Ivy ordered breakfast burritos for each of them. She handed him his, and he regarded the cheesy, meaty lump with displeasure. He looked to Ivy, who was already busy with finishing hers. He took a tentative bite.
Well, at least he'd function properly once he finished it.
"I think you might need to put your sleeve thingy on," Ivy said uncertainly. "If we're going to rent a car, well, I'm a felon, so you'll have to do it."
"We're not renting a car. We're already short on cash."
Ivy arched an eyebrow and looked at him skeptically. "I'm pretty sure I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no."
"Here," he said, ignoring her as he stepped into a hardware store. He bought a flathead screwdriver and quickly located a car that looked like an older model. He jammed the head of the screwdriver into the lock as Ivy threw her hands up in the air behind him.
"I cannot believe you."
"You're already a criminal," he said, and the door opened.
"Yeah, well I'm not gonna make that statement completely true!"
"You've already aided and abetted me. Get in the car."
"No. It's highly immoral."
"Do you want to find Oliver or not?"
Ivy gasped, then grumbled and threw her suitcase and his plastic bag into the backseat. She stepped into the front seat and slammed the door as she crossed her arms and glared out the window. She vaguely registered him jamming the screwdriver into the key slot and wriggling it around violently, and with a purr, the engine came to life.
"Are you really sure you wanna go this low?" Ivy asked. Again, he ignored her and started driving.
Blaire was asleep on Nathaniel again. Oliver looked away.
"Is something wrong?" Craig spoke. Oliver shook his head. "You're sure?"
Oliver didn't respond.
"He's upset about his own sister." Katya's accented voice sliced through the air like blades, and Oliver's head snapped up like a rubber band. "I am right, aren't I?"
Strangely enough, Katya's tone wasn't patronizing or pretentious. Her eyes were empathetic, and her cheeks were sunken in understanding; enough so that Oliver managed to nod his head and turn away.
"How did you know?" his voice came out hoarsely.
"I have one of my own. I'd know that face anywhere."
"You have a sister?" Oliver asked. He didn't understand why he was so surprised; having a sibling was, after all, not uncommon. Maybe it was because Katya often acted so rashly that he couldn't imagine her taking care of a relative.
"Yes. She is only eight years of age, but we are quite close," Katya said with a fond smile. Then the smile faded, and the hollow look was back. "I hope she is safe."
"What's her name?" Laurie asked curiously.
"Vera. And yours, Oliver?"
"Ivy. She's my twin. Almost identical, but she's way tinier than I am."
"I see. Vera looks nothing like me."
Oliver chuckled. It was somewhat liberating, in a way, to speak of Ivy.
"I hope your Ivy is safe, as well," Katya said. Oliver let out a sharp laugh.
"Ivy's probably out of her mind with worry. I never go a day without calling her."
"And?" Katya smiled widely. "Do you suppose she will look for us?"
"Yeah. There's no way she won't. If she hasn't yet, she will soon, and I'll bet we're on the news by now."
"It seems a bit far-fetched that she'd come all the way to Russia," Nathaniel said dubiously.
"Yeah, but when we were really little, it was pretty much just Ivy and me," Oliver said in reminisce. "Our mom never paid much attention to us, since she was really busy with her work, and our dad was the same way. Mom would work during the day and sleep at night, and dad was opposite, so the only people we ever really interacted with were each other and our babysitter. All we really have is each other, then throw in the fact that Ivy hardly trusts government workers, it's certain that she'd come here to do the dirty work herself."
"Godspeed to Ivy, then," Katya said with a wry smirk. "We can only hold out hope that we will be found."
No sooner had she spoken the words than the heavy metal door creaked open, and three figures donned in black suits and helmets stood imposingly in the doorway. Their silhouettes were dark against the glaring light of the hall.
Before anyone could register what he was doing, one stepped in and stabbed a needle into Katya's forearm. She fell limply to the ground, the oncoming shriek crushed in her throat.
"What are you doing?" Craig asked, jumping to his feet. Everyone else was standing now, and a second guard walked to the young man.
"No," he growled, backing up. The guard grabbed his wrist. "I said no!"
His arm was a blur as he tore it out of the guard's grasp, and Oliver stumbled backwards, sure he was hallucinating. The man's twitching was becoming faster and faster, and quick as light glinting off silver, he tackled the guard to the ground.
"Hey!" the first guard who had sedated Katya immediately jumped onto the man and plucked another needle from his belt.
"Get him off me!" the second guard yowled.
"I'm trying!"
Futilely, the remaining hostages were beating at the guards and trying to pry the man away from their grasps.
The needle stabbed into the man's neck, and with a sigh of relief, the second guard scampered from under his limp body and dragged Katya out of the room, and the first followed suit with the man.
"Well, then," the third guard said with a grin. He had remained standing at the doorway, ready to catch anyone who tried to run. "That was interesting. Katya Petrovich and Peter Maximoff, huh? Didn't expect it to be that hard."
"Shut up, McDagley; you didn't do a single damn thing and you know it!" the second guard barked.
The first guard yelled at the other two in Russian, and they both scampered away, one hoisting Katya and the other staying behind as the first guard carried away the strange man—Peter Maximoff, Oliver thought hazily— and closed the door.
The slam resonated through the small, hollow cell like a death sentence.
Sorry about throwing yet another plot twist in your face. I hope the story doesn't seem like it's going too slowly or too quickly; if it is doing either, go ahead and tell me in a PM or a review. Don't worry, my feelings won't be hurt.
I was having trouble in deciding whether to use Peter or Pietro, but I decided to use Peter because of Days of Future Past, even though Marvel's technically not even supposed to be using Quicksilver or the Scarlet Witch.
And, jasper29forever, if you're looking for more Bucky/OC stories, go check out The Original Three by tinseltown. Victoria is probably the cutest little thing about which you'll ever read. You can also try Sins of Our Past by cryo247, if you want a complete story.