Secretive - Bucky Barnes

57 || Teaming Up

[Nova]
It is not long until I find what I am searching for desperately, and in numerous numbers. It is nasty, but necessary. Right when I want to walk out of the corridor into the direction of escape, namely the black SUV waiting in front of the mansion, someone stretches their arm out in my front right before I leave the upper corridor, making me stuck in the doorframe.

It is like walking right into a metal pipe that crosses my body below the collar bone, just that the flavour of sunshine and sunflowers does not really resemble the strong material all too well. Not enough though to make me ignore the stench of blood around me, and I fear what will happen to this house if the corpses are not brought away. I really am not in the mood to, over all, associate the smell of decayed bodies with the house I grew up in. Plus, selling it some time given will be very, very difficult if it is not only literally a graveyard for uncountable souls, but also smells like one.

Inhaling deeply, I stop for a second before glancing up to Steve, his golden hair shining in the evening sun that comes through the window James broke with a shot. He still wears his fighting gear, all blue and white and red stripes and stars, his shield on his back in case of emergence. It still wonders me how broad his shoulders are; leaving no sign of the shield in the farthest point of them. 

»You gave one hell of a speech. Again.« he whispers softly, his voice barely audible, evading my eyes for any price. It is after these words that he takes his arm from my front, tiredly dropping it next to his huge frame. Just hanging there, it emphasizes the thin of his hips that would make each girl cry in jealousy of what they do not have. 

Deciding to ignore the comment, I try another time walking towards the steps, but it is of no use. Steve's strong arm is up again, preventing me from living this hellhouse behind me. »Can we just talk for a sec-«

»No. I've got better things to do than letting Captain America kiss my shoes in apology.« I bite back, taking the improvised bag – made of one of the bloody jackets from one of the dead men in front of our feet and decorating the corridor like it was a new kind of trend – and give him a wink with my free hand to nonverbally give him the order to move.

Well, what should I say? Steve Rogers never fails to remind people of his stubborn ass.

»Tell me how you know Bucky's safe, then. At least, give me that.« he responds, almost back into the commanding tones but just almost, knowing he really fucked up big time and not really daring to give me any orders for now. Better this way.

I meet his cerulean eyes, eyes that once seemed a memorial of the turquoise, calm beaches in Malibu, but now are dirtied by worries, fear and a little spark of anger. Eyes that once started to glance at me like I was the whole world, and never stopped from then on, not even when he declared me a traitor, working for the enemy. With a shrug, I push his hand away from my shoulder and try to make my way out, again.

This time, I almost reach the stairs. Almost.

»Nova, please. Buck's my best friend and I just want to know him safe, undoubtedly.« he clarifies from behind me, clearing his throat before continuing. »And I'm really sorry for accusing you, but I would do anything for him and you know that. You can't blame me for going crazy when something's up with him when you're not any better. Not that this excuses my behaviour. It has been wrong, I know this.«

I could say a lot of things. Could ask him where his trust suddenly went he had the night we spent together. Could ask him why he would think I was going crazy instead of keeping a clear mind on my quest to the treasure named James. Could question his own loyalty to Bucky for accusing his girlfriend behind his back instead of cooperating; if it is not mere obsession with him, still lasting obsession, or if it is really just his priority to save his best friend.

But I do not. I got time for this in the future, for discussing and arguing, when James is with me again, but not now. Rolling my eyes with the motion ending in closed eyelids, I slowly turn on my heels to face the blonde, tall Super Soldier, while my hand sinks from the star-necklace into a position next to my body, just as Steve's did before. »James and I... We have this bond. I don't know if he told you about it, but... I can feel his emotions as they were mine, and the other way around. Obviously, even in far distance. If he wasn't alright, relatively spoken that is, I would definitely go mad. But he is fine so far, not hurt yet. He is uncomfortable currently, but that's it.«

Eyes growing big in surprise and even a little shock about the explanation, he does not consider a second that I lie to him now. But he probably sees the question mark in my face this circumstance evokes, and he explains it faster than I can ask. »Bucky has had a bad feeling about you, too, while you were in Japan. Tried drinking it off, didn't really work out for him.«

»Yeah, I know. Anyways, you can start getting uneasy when I do.« I respond, already knowing of his miserable state from occasional snaps of conversation between the Avengers and himself.

»What is your plan?« His footsteps are loud behind me, echoing from the high walls of the entrance hall when I walk down. There is even a drop of blood on the beautifully painted ceiling. It is tiny, but enough to make me wonder how it has been possible to spread so far, and if I was ever to get that one out. It ruins the entire image.

»Getting away, finding James, saving James.« And although I know James is not hurt yet, every step I take feels weighted. Some imaginable force pulling me down, wanting me to crawl into the next corner and simply cry.

Cry because I could not safe him. If I only would have been faster, or stronger. If I had not let him go before me, I would have been able to avoid the events. I would probably even have been able to kill Damon Schmidt once and for all if he just was close enough. If I had not been as selfish, had not tried to save James and my entire being and life sense with him, if I only had believed in myself as he does, I would have prevented him from getting captured by Hydra another time in his long life. Getting captured by his worst nightmare, his demons that probably are blossoming in the knowledge of getting their claws back onto him. What, if they found out he does not comply anymore the way he did? What if they put in a new trigger? Is that even possible with the space I burned, the connection between some neurons I destroyed? What, if it did not work at all and all I feel are his Soldier feelings, not the real ones from the man behind it?

I need to stop thinking like this. There will be time later for self-accusation and –doubt, for blaming myself, for apologizing to James a hundred times and more. But this is not now; this would lead right into a pitch-black hole of sorrow and James in hellfire.

»You know, I hoped you'd be a little more specific. What can I do?« Steve asks, now a little sterner in his voice the closer I get to the exit. Suddenly in my front, building an obstacle between me and the front door, he looks down onto me. How fast has he been from behind me back in mu front?

»Leave me alone.« I grunt, giving him a short glance including my best angelic smile, over-natural, just excessive.

»For fuck's sake, Nova, stop being a brat for once. You wonder why the team isn't all too fond of you? You should start being fond of them, first.« he mouths, now not caring to hide his own annoyed mindset anymore.

»I think we all agree to that – although Capsicle here should watch his mouth.« Tony mentions, still in his complete metal suit, while tapping Steve's left shoulder from right behind him.

This cannot be all too comfortable; sticking in the metal for several hours, no fresh air greeting his legs, his torso. He just walked out of the door from between the roundly shaped stairs; Bruce, Natasha and Sam following him suit.

I look at them, every single one of them. They seem determined to join me, my plan, the rescue of James. The rescue that man deserves and urgently has to get.

Sighing, I turn on my heel, shaking my head. For James's sake. I'm doing it for James's sake. Because, no matter how hard I try, four eyes see more than two, and there is barely something that could escape ten eyes. »Fine. But I don't want you to ask any questions concerning the place we are driving to, or anything that place inhabits. Am I clear?«