Lost + Found [Bucky Barnes] ✓

Chapter 7

"Oh god, oh my god, oh my god..." I mumble, looking away from the dead bodies filling my living room and stumbling toward the wall. My hand hits the flat surface just as my stomach lurches, relieving itself of its contents.

Steve approaches me cautiously, still holding his hand to his chest. I can see it, just barely, the grotesque and dark outline of my fingers against the back of his hand.

"Hey," his voice is soft. I'm worried that he's going to ask me if I'm okay, because I'm certainly not okay. There are 7 dead bodies in my living room, I just vomited in front of a gorgeous stranger whose hand I somehow mutilated just by touching it, and my sister is fucking gone.

"I'm not okay," I whisper between sobs, stepping away from my own bile and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"I know. Is she...your sister..." Steve can't bring himself to say it. The massacre that happened in my living room is too horrific.

I shake my head. I'm grateful that she's alive, but I don't know how to be relieved that she's been taken. With all that's happened today, I can barely stand let alone process the fact that my baby sister has been kidnapped.

"They took her," my voice sounds ragged, my chest rising and falling heavily between sobs. The metallic scent of blood hits my nose, and I pitch forward to vomit again.

Stop it, Chloe, I scold myself, trying to pull the pieces of myself back together. You can handle this. You've been around gunshot wounds before, it's just blood. You need to be strong. For Ari.

This is nothing like the last time I saw a gunshot wound. It was a while ago, that day the Winter Soldier went on a rampage in DC and tore up the edge of GWU's campus. The day I met the Black Widow, Captain America, and the Falcon when we were all arrested by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents after Black Widow fired a rocket launcher on the Winter Soldier. My mind flickers back to the television announcement from earlier. Seeing his face on the screen. Someone said his name was Bucky.

It's been a month since shit went down. First the explosion in Lagos, then the bomb at the U.N. Headquarters, and the battle at the airport in Germany. The Avengers were in shambles, fighting against each other while the rest of the world grew impatient with the heroes who left so much destruction in their wake. Naturally, it was still on television. Everywhere. Because we all know that TV journalists do a fantastic job with focusing on the things that matter.

Maybe it's the memory of the day I saw the Winter Soldier, or maybe it's the newsreel covering the fiasco abroad that brings it back to me, but it's like a lightbulb flickers on in my screwed up brain. I stare up at a Steve, finally able to control my breathing through my tears, and recognition dawns on me.

"You're Captain America," I blurt out.

He hesitates, then nods.

"Can you find her?" My voice cracks at the thought of my baby sister being in the hands of whoever did this. I can hear police sirens coming toward us from the street outside, and it's only a matter of minutes before this place is swarming with uniforms. "Please," I beg him.

"Captain," A voice from the doorway draws our attention, and I'm surprised to see another familiar face standing there. The Black Widow, aka Natasha Romanoff. Our eyes meet, and hers narrow in recognition before flitting around the room and assessing the damage. She offers a sad smile whilst looking back at me. "Chloe, isn't it?"

"Wait, you know her?" Steve questions, clearly confused.

Exhaling, I nod, "Although we should really stop meeting like this."

"Police are on their way up," Natasha tells him, ignoring his steely blue gaze. "I called Sharon. The CIA hasn't gotten any intel on Hydra activity in the Metro area, so it looks like we're at square one on this. We need to get you through questioning and get a move on. Sam's going to meet us."

"Hydra?" I ask, attempting (and failing) to mask my fear. Please...not Hydra. I am not equipped to deal with this shit right now. "H-how do you know this is Hydra?"

"How long have you known about your ability?" Natasha grills me. "Have you told anyone?"

Well, that was straight and to the point. If it was uncomfortable hearing Steve talk about my little hand trick, this was like a punch to the gut. I grimace and shake my head at Natasha.

"Today," I tell her. "I just found out today. I swear, I had no idea."

Steve looks dumbfounded, "How do you know her?"

I'm tempted to make fun of him, still stuck on that small factoid, but my brain reminds me that I'm in shock and this definitely isn't the right time or place. He clearly doesn't remember me from the whole Winter Soldier thing, which is fine. I get it. I was only with Natasha on the street briefly, and - after they arrested us - they put me in a separate car from the Avengers where I was sent off to the local precinct for questioning and promptly released. It was only in our parting that Natasha asked me for my name. I definitely didn't expect her to remember it, let alone show up at my doorstep a few years later.

"The bridge," Natasha clarifies impatiently. "She was the one who patched me up on the street when Bucky...you know."

He nods and says nothing while police and FBI agents come thundering down the hallway. Natasha beckons me to her and I obey, carefully avoiding any further contact with Steve as I pass him to move out of the doorway so the investigators can get into my apartment. She reaches for my arm and I jerk it away, bumping into Steve who chuckles.

"Don't touch her skin," he warns Natasha, brandishing his injured hand. Guilt floods my veins when I see the full blackened wound, like the skin beneath my handprint suddenly shriveled up and rotted. He uses his other hand to capture my elbow and leads me a few feet from the doorway, just out of earshot from the officers setting up a patrol outside the apartment.

"It's Hydra's MO," Natasha tells Steve. "Watch a gifted, create a stimulus as bait, reel them in."

Steve nods, "You're right, but we should leave this one to S.H.I.E.L.D. We don't need to get involved in something like this, not when we're trying to lay low."

"Come on, Rogers," Natasha elbows him. "Since when are you gonna let the bad guys get away without doing something about it?"

"Since the last time I did, my friends went to war over it, and Bucky lost an arm." he replies with a straight face. "Again."

"Wait," I interrupt. "You've got to help me, Steve. Please. They have my sister."

He frowns, looking between me and Natasha before throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. Natasha smirks, clearly pleased with the fact that Steve caved so easily.

"Fine, but we keep it quiet," he instructs. "We need to stay out of the field until we're absolutely certain we know where she is, got it?"

*****
AUTHOR'S NOTE

Double update!

This chapter is dedicated to my self-proclaimed #1 fan Vazanya.