Lost + Found [Bucky Barnes] ✓

Chapter 12

Two weeks have passed since I arrived in Wakanda with Steve and Natasha, and it's been two weeks since I've seen my sister, my mother, or my home. Natasha left on a mission after the first few days, and she's stayed away even though it was only supposed to take two days. Steve tells me that she's probably with Bruce Banner, also known as The Hulk, or visiting Clint Barton at his family's farm.

God, I'm so jealous. The normalcy of it. And yes, I know that the Black Widow can hardly be called normal, but here I am stuck in a government compound with a super soldier who is nearly a century old, another one who is currently a popsicle, and my cousin - the king - who has barely said more than ten words to me since the day we met. I gather that T'Challa is the strong and silent type, but seriously dude. We're supposed to be family.

Luckily, I haven't run into my father yet. Whether or not he knows I'm here, I'm not sure, but I've been dreading the encounter. I have no problem with that family staying silent.

I spend most of my days in the medical ward while they run a variety of tests on me. Thus far, they've confirmed that my abilities are heavily tied to my emotions. My skin, while it is a conduit, is safe to touch unless I grow irritable, frightened, or angry, and I take the news as a happy sign that I can stop wearing so many layers.

They've issued me a standard uniform, since all of my clothes are still back in my apartment in DC, and I pull on the white long-sleeved tunic over my matching white tank top and trousers. It's reminiscent of scrubs, but far more comfortable and - let's face it - more flattering. I won't lie though, a part of me feels like I should be doing Tai Chi in a meadow somewhere, not running medical tests in a lab.

When I'm not on the treadmill, hooked up to wires, or sitting in some sort of scanner, the rest of my waking hours are actually spent talking to Bucky. Steve was right - it's therapeutic to tell him about my day, about the stress of discovering my new abilities, about Ari. Especially about Ari. I'm terrified for my sister, and I wake up screaming each night with fresh nightmares. They blend together the men in the alley and the massacre in my apartment, and sometimes I find my dream self gripping the dead body of my baby sister.

What I don't tell Bucky is that I'm the one who kills her. In every dream, I'm the monster.

I'm sitting on the floor in front of the glass-fronted cylinder, my gloves discarded on the floor beside me, while I tug at a string hanging from the edge of my trousers. I've run out of things to say to Bucky, so lately I've been spending my time here in silence. It's peaceful to know that I'm not alone without any sort of pressure to keep my walls up. These days, I spend more time worrying about my emotions hurting someone than actually dealing with them, and the stress is taking it's toll on me physically. I can't sleep. I barely eat. Even Steve seems concerned with my health and well-being, even though I repeatedly tell him that I spend nearly every day surrounded by doctors.

Footsteps echo through the hallway leading into the room, and I turn my head to see T'Challa standing there. He gives me a warm smile, but it doesn't meet his dark eyes. The weight of a kingdom sits heavy upon his shoulders, and I know he misses his father. From what I've gathered from the staff and the internet, my uncle was a great man.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, crossing the room toward me before carefully lowering himself to the ground so we sit shoulder to shoulder.

I swallow, glancing back at Bucky before answering.

"Truthfully?" I ask. T'Challa nods, so I decide to tell him the truth. "It's not good."

"The physicians tell me they are making progress," he replies. "With practice, you should be able to control your gift."

I snort, "Gift? This isn't a gift. It's a curse."

"We fear that which we do not understand, Chloe," T'Challa tells me with a wry smile. "In time, I believe that your gift may prove to change the world."

I narrow my eyes at him, studying his features, before turning my attention back to the string dangling from the hem of my trousers. Wrapping it around one finger, I tug and the string snaps instantly. We sit in silence for a few moments longer before I let out a deep breath.

"Do you believe in the prophecy?" I ask him earnestly.

He pauses, "I believe in our ability to shape our own futures. You have been given a gift, but it is your choice whether or not you use it and how."

Unable to think of a response, I stare down at my feet until T'Challa stands and offers me a hand. My first instinct is to accept it, but I recoil instantly. My gloves are still on the floor next to me, and I don't want to risk hurting him. However, his reflexes are too quick, and he grasps my hand firmly before I can tug it away and pulls me to my feet.

The second I'm up, a siren pierces the air. Metal doors clang shut at every exit to the room, effectively sealing us in as I pull my hand from his. T'Challa sprints to a computer monitor and taps a few rapid keystrokes, only to have the system block his access. He swears under his breath, slamming his fist into the desk.

"What's happening?" I demand.

"The system is on high alert," he explains, running a hand across the back of his neck. "The compound is under attack, and they have managed to lockdown the server."

My eyes grow wide with fear, "What does that mean? What do we do?"

"It means we are stuck here," T'Challa replies, causing my anxiety level to skyrocket. "It also means that, without the computer regulating the stasis chamber, Mr. Barnes will die unless we revive him."