Chapter 9
My hand covers the gash as hot, sticky blood gushes out. Bucky runs out of the room, and Nat stands over me with wide eyes.
“Go.” I gasp, pressing harder with my hand into the wound. “I’ll be fine.”
She hesitates for a moment, looking between my face and my blood-soaked hand.
“Go!” I shout, looking up at her.
She nods, standing up and running out behind Bucky. I slide backwards across the floor, reaching for the tipped over cabinet beside me, hoping for something to use to staunch the bleeding.
Luckily, a roll of paper towels falls out of the cabinet as I open it. I unroll them, wadding it into a ball and pulling up my shirt before pressing it against the cut. I can tell my lung has been punctured by the blade, but my breathing is already easier as it starts to heal internally.
I cringe as the sound of distant gunshots echoes through the hall, and I silently will the wound to heal quicker. My breathing slowly becomes even again, and I stand up, ripping my shirt and tying the wadded-up paper towel around my abdomen.
I grab my gun from the floor as another round of gunshots fire from down the hall. I move towards the sound, cringing in pain as the wound twists with each movement.
Natasha’s red hair comes into view as she ducks behind a table that has been tipped on its side. I duck down, hurrying beside her.
“What the hell are you doing?” She asks, looking at me before peering back over the table.
“Came to help.” I say, adjusting the tie around my body.
Steve grunts from somewhere on the other side of the table, and a loud bang happens after that. Nat fires another shot before ducking back down.
“He’s unhinged.” She tells me in a low voice. “You shouldn’t be here.”
My heart hammers against my chest as a cracking sound explodes from the other side of the table.
“Bucky stop!” Steve yells. “It’s me, it’s Steve!”
I groan as I stand up, looking at the scene before me. Bucky and Steve are locked in a fight, eye to eye as they push and pull against each other.
“Get down here!” Nat hisses at me, but I step around her grip, moving to the other side of the table.
“James!” I call, keeping one hand on the bloody mess on my side. “James stop!”
Bucky turns towards me, losing his ground with Steve for a split second. That’s all it takes for Steve to tackle him, pushing him to the ground and straddling him, pinning his arms to the ground by his wrists.
I go over to them as Nat does too, looking down at Bucky as he thrashes and pushes against Steve’s grip.
“Please.” I say softly, looking into his eyes.
“Fuck you!” He shouts, arching his back as he tries to get free. “I hate you!”
Nat turns me around by my shoulders, facing me towards the door as they shuffle behind me. I don’t turn around as I hear the click of handcuffs, and I don’t turn around as he shouts and curses while Steve drags him out of the room.
“Come on.” Nat says after a minute, looping her arm around my waist. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I nod, letting her guide me to the elevator. We pass a group of guards as we step into the elevator, and I recognize the man they have in handcuffs as they drag him down the hall.
“Who was that?” I ask Nat as the doors close.
She presses the button to her floor.
“Baron Zemo.” She says flatly. “He’s a Hydra operative, not sure how he got in here.”
I nod, following her as we get out of the elevator. I rack my brain as she opens the door to her room, trying to remember where I had seen him before. Suddenly, it clicks.
“He was in the prison block.” I say as she sits me on the edge of the bathtub. “When I saw Bucky, he was bringing him a tray.”
Nat looks at me with furrowed eyebrows, nodding as she considers the information.
“That makes sense.” She says after a minute. “That’s the only way he could’ve gotten close enough to him to make him flip out like that.”
She pulls my shirt up, untying the scrap and pulling it aside with the paper towels. A trickle of blood pours out of the gash, but it’s already not as deep as it was before. She gets a first aid kit, opening it and pouring alcohol over the wound.
“Sorry.” She mutters as I inhale sharply.
I shake my head, biting down hard on my lip.
“What do you mean by he made Bucky like that?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Nat pulls a piece of gauze out, covering the cut with it before taping it down.
“Brainwashing.” She says flatly. “Russia’s biggest export, next to Petroleum.”
She smiles crookedly.
“But he was here.” I say quietly. “He was normal, he was mine again.”
Nat touches my cheek softly.
“Brainwashing doesn’t always work like that hun.” She says quietly. “A lot of the Russian systems use code words, he may have gotten out of it for a while, but the words could have rewritten it all over again.”
I sigh, wrapping my arms around my body.
“We’ll get him back.” She says quietly. “Just… we have to figure out how.”
I nod, looking at her as she puts the first aid kit away.
“Why him?” I ask.
She smiles at me softly.
“He was the nicest kid.” I tell her with a small laugh. “Of anyone they could’ve picked to do this to, why would they pick the one guy who never would’ve hurt anyone?”
Nat sits beside me, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Because that’s just how it is.” She answers with a sigh.
I nod, resting my cheek on the top of her head.
“I wish you’d known him when Steve and I did.” I tell her. “Things were so much easier in the 1940’s.”
She laughs, nodding too.
“Besides the misogyny, chicken pox, and World War? I’m sure it was.” She answers.
I laugh, rolling my eyes. The door to the room opens, and we both sit up as Steve walks into the bathroom.
“You guys okay?” He asks, looking at the bloody shirt pieces on the floor.
We both nod, and Steve puts a hand out to each of us. We take them, and he pulls us up gently.
“Tony’s with Zemo and Bruce is analyzing a blood sample from Bucky.” He says as he leads us out of the bathroom. “But there’s nothing to do about it tonight, and I want Liz to meet the rest of the team.”
Nat smiles, wrapping her arm around Steve’s torso as she hugs him softly. Steve throws me a clean shirt, and I put it on before we leave the room, walking to a living room at the end of the hall. A group of people sit on the couches and chairs as the TV plays the opening screen for a movie.
“Liz, this is some of the rest of the team.” Steve says, gesturing to the group. “Sam, Clint, Peter, Wanda and Vision.”
The group waves as their respective names are called and I smile at each of them. I sit near Wanda, and Nat sits on the other side of me. Steve turns off the lights, and Peter turns the movie on.
I sit back against the couch, trailing my fingers over my leather pouch as I try to focus on the movie, trying to pretend everything is okay again.