Scars That Last Forever {Re - Write}

Chapter Eight

Commanding voices and sunlight from big windows invade my senses. A dull pain erupts in the base of my head as my vision rocks in and out of focus. I can feel the heat of Bucky's body, our arms just hardly brushing when we walk. 

I narrow my eyes, trying to filter some of the sunlight that bounces off the shiny walls. It's all too much. We follow behind Fury, agents, and staff eyeing us suspiciously as we walk past. My teeth clench as men and women dressed in white lab coats pass us by, studying pages of work in their hands. 

We reach the end of the hallway, Fury presses a button on the wall and a door slides open. We step into an all-glass area and the door closes. Before long, the elevator moves. The view is beautiful, people scurry around below us and we can see the lake on the horizon. Breathtaking. 

Bucky's eyes are focused but I feel his finger tapping against my leg, beautiful isn't it?

I don't respond, but I don't really need to. The elevator comes to a stop and we follow Fury out. The room is giant, there is a large couch and a huge black screen surrounded by windows. Across from that is a large kitchen with shiny countertops. Everything looks delicate like if I touch it would crumble under my hands. 

"Well if it isn't the old pirate," one man says. He is dressed in jeans and a black sabbath T-shirt, whatever that is. His hair falls on his face and he has a funny-looking beard. On the other couch, a girl with bright red hair pushes herself to a stand and raises an eyebrow. I can feel her gaze burning into Bucky and me. 

A blonde man eyes the redhead carefully before turning to us. He is muscular but not like Bucky, he probably isn't enhanced. 

"и снова здравствуйте (hello again)," she speaks slowly and clearly. 

Bucky looks down at me and my eyes widen. It's the woman from the bridge, the one with Steve. Before I can say anything Fury cuts in, "This is Bucky and Peter. I found them in Russia, they were both in HYDRA," I wince at the words, "but managed to escape. The kid is basically a spider and the old man is like the other old man. They will be staying here for the foreseeable future." 

Without further explanation, Fury turns and disappears into the elevator. I can't help but shift closer to Bucky. My body is tense and every instinct tells me to grab Bucky and jump out the window, web us to the tower next door and then never stop running. 

"So we've got another capsicle, and uh, a kid," He pauses for effect, "I'm Tony Stark by the way. Y'know, Howard's son blah blah. I have also invented the ironman suit and I am quite the hero, if you weren't aware," He smirks right at Bucky. His words a cocky, arrogant, and annoying, but his eyes are different. He looks worried, unsure, and apprehensive. 

"I'm Natasha Romanoff. Former KGB assassin, current SHIELD spy," Her words tone is cool and she doesn't say more than she has to. It looks like she could take down an army with the flick of her wrist. 

"I'm Clint, SHIELD spy and bow and arrow guy," He chuckles and falls back down on the couch. 

"Is Steve here?" Bucky says in a low voice, glaring at the others. 

"So he speaks!" Tony exclaims pulling some sort of device from his pocket and hitting a few buttons. 

My fingers tap against Bucky's leg, What do we do?

He looks down at me and nods slightly, you get to meet Steve.

A small smile plays on my lips and my eyes widen. Bucky just nods with a smile of his own. 

"Ok so, they are telepathic," Clint announces with a laugh. 

"Tony, what do you..." a tall man with blonde hair and wide shoulders steps in from the hall. Steve. "Buck-" 

"Hey, punk," He crosses the room in three quick steps and practically knocks Bucky down from the force of his hug.

"Jerk," the two are about the same height, but I can imagine Steve when he was smaller when he hardly reached Bucky's shoulder and was nothing but flesh and bones. Mostly, I can see Steve who makes Bucky so happy for the better part of a century. 

After another moment Steve pulls away and turns his attention to me. "I'm Steve," 

"I know," I look over to Bucky before looking back to Steve, "Bucky tells me stories about you every night." My voice is a little hoarse from not being used and shaky with nerves. Usually, when I talk I am complying or threatening. 

A slight blush crosses Bucky's face but Steve just laughs. "You guys must be hungry. I'll go make something. You can sit on the couches if you want." 

I follow Bucky and sit next to him on an empty couch. It is so soft I feel like I'm going to sink right through. Nobody is really talking, but it is so loud. The banging in the kitchen, the commotions on the floors below, and the cars outside. The sun is still bright and everything is blurry. I feel like someone is hitting my head with a sledgehammer. My skin burns against my clothes and the couch. 

I try to pull in a breath, but I feel like I can't breathe. I grasp at the neckline of my shirt and pull it away from my neck as if that'll allow me to actually breathe. 

I feel Bucky's hand tapping against my quad and his face appears in front of me. 

I hear him say something, but not to me. It's an order to the people behind him. It's only then that I realize I am clenching his shirt in my fists. All of a sudden, the sun fades and I can make out Bucky's eyes and nose and mouth. The noise quiets until all I can hear is Bucky's heartbeat. My chest loosens and I take a deep breath. 

I release Bucky's shirt and slowly tap words on his shoulder, it was all too bright. I'm sorry.

Don't be, Bucky responds. He moves to sit next to me on the couch again. Everyone is looking. Even Steve stopped making food to see what was happening. The blinds are covering the window and the room is much darker than before. Everything seems quieter too. 

"I," I clear my throat, "I'm sorry. Back there was so, so dark. And-" 

Tony shakes his head, "No need to apologize, kid. It happens to all of us." 

...

Bucky and I share a room even though we were offered separate ones. Besides on missions we haven't slept a part in a decade. This way Bucky can still tell me stories. 

Bucky took the liberty of moving the bed in. a way that he could be closer to both the door and the window. I can protect myself but as long as Bucky lives he will always protect me, and I guess I would do the same. I know he is more than capable of protecting himself. The thing is, he doesn't want to protect himself he wants to protect me so I have to protect him.  It's a funny circle, really. 

The tapping of Bucky's fingers helps lull me into sleep despite the unfamiliar surroundings and the too comfortable bed. 

It all seems too good to be true.