War Torn || Civil War

Chapter Fifteen: Collateral Damage

Music is "Eye of the Storm" by Ivy & Gold.

Picture is Bucky Barnes.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Collateral Damage

Steve, Sam, and I watch Bucky's psychological evaluation from the conference room. After Steve calmed down and Tony left the room, Steve came back. After that, a guard was posted outside the door.

Like that would actually prevent us from leaving if we wanted to.

Natasha, Tony, and Ross watch the feed from the control room, which is just outside the glass walls of the conference room. They, however, can hear everything. But the three of us, stuck inside this fish bowl, aren't privy to a thing, and the screen is too far away for me to read their lips.

Bucky looks uninterested as the psychologist pulls up a chair to the metal table quite a few feet away from his containment cell. It's almost as if they expect him to break out and attack the man.

They treat him like an animal.

Behind me, I hear Sharon enter the room, then the guard locking the door behind her. "The receipt for your gear," she says, handing a piece of paper to Sam.

Sam takes the paper and cocks an eyebrow. "'Bird costume'? Come on."

"I didn't write it," Sharon defends. She looks over to us, and I smile at her from over my shoulder. "Grant's fine," she tells me with a nod. "Safe and sound in a safe house you set up in historic West Berlin. He'll be waiting for you when you get out."

"You mean if," Steve corrects.

Sharon gives Steve a sad expression, then looks around the area before pressing a button on the table. The feed in our glass cage turns to a closeup of Bucky, and we're suddenly able to hear the conversation.

Steve jerks his head over to Sharon. She gives him a sweet smile, which he returns before looking back to Bucky. I give her a nod, mouthing the words, "Thank you."

"I'm not here to judge you," the psychologist says in an accent that's almost German, but there's a hint of something else under it. Something more Eastern European. "I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?"

My fists clench as the psychologist says Bucky's given name. He hated being called James, by everyone except for me.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

Bucky opens his mouth for the first time since arriving in Berlin. "My name is Bucky."

I smile to myself, knowing that my Bucky is in there somewhere. I had faith, and now I know it for a fact.

I can bring him back.

Steve turns away from the feed and looks to the handful of blurry photographs of Bucky that were taken just after the United Nations bombing. He looks them over with intensity.

"Why would the task force release his photo to begin with?"

"Get the word out?" Sharon suggests, gesturing with her hand. "Involve as many eyes as we can?"

"Right," Steve agrees. "It's a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier."

"You're saying someone framed him to find him?"

"He wasn't there," I agree. "I believe him. If he wasn't, then someone else was."