Coming Home
Before you had a chance to survey the room, you were yanked harshly through the doorway and into the lobby by your wrist. You caught a glimpse of the hard, menacing face of your brother moments before you were pulled into him so that your back pressed into his chest. You felt the cool steel of a knife trace the skin on your neck and you shivered. He pressed the blade so close that you were terrified to swallow, for fear of him cutting you. Bucky started towards you but you stopped him.
“James, don’t!” you cried, tilting your head back from the knife. Steve reached out and pulled Bucky back by the shoulder.
“If you move, so do I,” Ryan glowered, lifting his elbow pointedly and readjusting his grip on the knife. Bucky’s eyes flickered in pain and he clenched his fists.
“Ryan,” you whispered softly, “why are you doing this?”
“Because… I… because I can,” he hesitated slightly. You dropped your gaze to the floor and raised a trembling hand to gently trace along his fingers that gripped the handle of the blade tightly. He flinched at your touch but didn’t move. You looked up at Steve with longing eyes and he gave a small nod with a reassuring look. You sighed and grabbed Ryan’s wrist swiftly. Before he could react, you pushed his arm away, knocking the blade out of his hand and threw a kick behind you between his legs. He groaned and dropped to the ground onto his knees. You quickly turned around and grabbed a handful of his hair, and thrusting his head into a metal hand bar that was attached to the wall with as much force as you could muster.
Ryan’s head connected with the bar with a sharp *ding* and he slumped to the floor. You felt two hands on your shoulders and they turned you around so that you were facing Bucky. His stare was just enough to make your legs grow weak as you collapsed to the ground. He caught you before you fell and hoisted you up bridal style into his arms.
“I’m not weak,” you murmured.
“I know.”
“I don’t need to be carried.”
“I know,” Bucky said again as you rested your head on his shoulder.
“Just this once…” you trailed off. In the background, you could see Steve throw Ryan over his shoulder and carry him out the front door.
“I mean honestly, the security in this place…” Tony mumbled to himself, following Steve. Bucky took off after them, rocking you unconsciously so that you had to fight to keep your eyes open. You twisted your head when Bucky shouldered the front door open and saw Tony hotwiring a van from inside the front seat. You didn’t really understand how he did it but you were too drained to care. Steve was placing Ryan into the back and then climbed in after him. You struggled out of Bucky’s arms and ran into the van after him.
There were too small wooden benches on the inside of the van and Steve had sat Ryan on one of them, his head slumping down to his shoulder. You knelt in front of him and held his hands, staring at him intently. You hadn’t noticed Bucky slide the door shut or the engine drum to life steadily or the van pull out roughly onto a dirt track. All of these things flooded back to you when Ryan’s eyes flickered open and he winced when he straightened his neck.
“(Y/N)?” he said with a raspy voice. You nodded with bright eyes as he smiled weakly. Then the colour seemed to drain from his face and his eyes widened.
“What have I… what did I do…” he stuttered, staring intently at his hands in yours. You squeezed them tightly but you felt him tremble. “I k-killed innocent p-people… I could have killed y-you.” He choked and tears filled his eyes.
“You were under HYDRA’s control, you couldn’t-”
“I KNEW! I knew what I was doing, I didn’t feel ANYTHING,” he exclaimed, pulling his hands from yours.
“Stop it! They tricked you, and I won’t let you believe that you’re to blame,” you cried, tears now falling down your cheeks slowly. “You hear me? This is the end of it, I won’t lose you again.” Your voice broke and you let your head fall. Silence filled the van and Ryan cleared his throat awkwardly in an attempt to break the tension.
“So… how did you… snap me out of it?” You gave a small smile.
“Natasha’s favourite method, cognitive recalibration,” you giggled as you exchanged looks with Steve, who had sat quietly in the corner.
“What?” Ryan frowned.
“Hit you really hard in the head,” you smirked, wiping the tears from your eyes.
“No wonder I have such a bad headache,” he mused.
The van trundled along potholes and bumps in the road until the track turned smooth and the familiar muted city noises could be heard.
“You’re coming home with us,” you said softly.