The Winter Wraith (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 37 - United Apart

The gun was steady in Bucky's hand, no trace of the doubt and confusion eating his insides evident in his stance. The woman slowly turned around, raising her arms in a sarcastic surrender. Her face was obscured by a dark mask, her bloodstained blouse and modest heels at odds with the fighting gear adorning her figure. "Take off the mask."

She made no move to do so. "Why?"

It would remove any advantages hidden in the mask's technology, that was why. Not because it would humanize whatever lay beneath, turn her expressionless disguise into something he could empathise with. He had to be sure this woman was worth saving. With a shrug, she tossed back her (h/c) hair and removed the mask shrouding her features, letting it clatter to the ground. Through the veiling shadows of the underground car park, piercing (e/c) eyes found his. The room was devoid of oxygen, but he didn't need to breathe. The corner of her mouth lifted like she knew exactly what he was thinking. "So," she drawled, "what now?"

He noted the perfect accent, trained to perfection. "Drop your weapons"

"Sure, right after you drop yours."

They were at a stalemate, each watching the other, though neither knew who was the predator and who was the prey. Everything about her was familiar, from the way her (h/c) hair fell about her face, to the shape of her hands as they gripped the gun at her side. He wanted to hold those hands, but at the same time, he wanted them in handcuffs and behind bars, out of his life and out of his head. Who are you?

"What?"

Her voice took him by surprise, drawing him out of his thoughts. Had he said that aloud? He hadn't thought so, but he must have. "Who are you?" he repeated.

Her head cocked to the side, confusion morphing into something else, something she tried to hide. 'Your worst nightmare."

"Hilarious," he deadpanned, but it was all he needed. He saw the surprise at his question, chased away by the doubt, the hesitation, the inability to answer. Like a flare in the darkness of night, a spark of relief lit up his chest; maybe she was like him. "You don't know, do you?"

Then, the Hydra mentality rose to the surface: the best defence is a good offence. "I could ask you the same question." She took a small step closer to him. "The infamous Winter Soldier. First Hydra, now Shield, absolutely no loyalty," she tsked.

"What, like a dog to its owner? Guess your leash is a bit tighter than mine," he quipped back. There was no real venom in their words, but he could sense the dangerous undercurrent of hurt and the desire to hurt, mingling together and giving the jokes some extra weight.

She scoffed. "Do you see a collar around my neck?" She gesturing to the open car park around them, the open space, the possibility of escape. "It's a little thing called trust. Not all of us have to wear muzzles."

He knew that was a jab at the mask Hydra had forced him into, effectively a muzzle to keep him silent and obedient. "You're right, I suppose domesticated dogs have no need for-" He cut himself off at the realisation she had moved another three steps closer to him, and he hadn't even noticed. "Stay where you are."

She ignored, stepping forwards again. "Of course, you were always the favourite mutt. And after you, the witchling and her brother. Apparently, I bite a bit too hard." He couldn't tell if she smiled at him, or if she was baring her teeth. Both options were equally disconcerting.

He shot at the ground, directly in front of her feet, the deafening crack echoing around them. "I said stay where you are."

She quirked an eyebrow, seemingly undeterred. "Keep firing warning shots and you'll run out of bullets."