Lost + Found [Bucky Barnes] ✓

Chapter 17

After the invasion - or whatever you want to call it - life in Wakanda has been on edge, to say the least. T'Challa is preoccupied with finding out how the hell those guys broke into the compound, understandably so, and he also had the less-than-pleasant job of informing the families of the few Wakandans who lost their lives in the attack.

Luckily, Steve decided to stay at the compound a little longer than originally planned so he could lend a hand, and rumor has it Natasha is on her way back as well. And Bucky...well...he's still awake.

I can't decide if I'm happy about that yet.

"C'mon, Chloe," Steve urges. "Just throw a punch."

I groan, rolling my eyes at the blonde supersoldier. "I don't want to do this, Steve. I don't punch. I don't hurt people."

"You're not going to hurt me," he insists.

"That's not what I meant," I snap at him. "I'd rather not know how to break someone's nose, okay? It's not exactly what I'd categorize as critical life skills, especially now that I have to worry about killing people by skin-to-skin contact. Contrary to popular belief, I don't want to be a lethal weapon. It doesn't sound like fun."

Bucky clears his throat from the corner of the training room, and my hands fly to my mouth as my eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry...that's not what I...I'm..." I stutter.

The corner of his mouth quirks up at me, and he takes another swing at the punching bag he's been working on. It flies upon contact, the chains rattling, and I half-expect it to come flying from the ceiling.

"It's okay," he replies, throwing another punch.

Since the attack, we've been spending a lot of time in the training room. Up until now, Steve had both of us working on treadmills and lifting weights, although I highly doubt Bucky needs or wants Mr. Patriotism to be his cheerleader-slash-coach. Today, Steve decided that it's time to teach me self-defense, and Bucky relegated himself to bagwork. Even though he still only has one arm, since his metal arm has yet to be replaced, his skills are terrifying to watch.

Let's just say I've gotten distracted by his bicep more than once.

"Chloe," Steve says with a sigh. "We just want to make sure you're protected. It's one thing to be able to defend yourself with your abilities, but - until you have them under control - I think it's a good idea to have a backup plan."

I shrug, "I have a backup plan. Back the hell up and stay behind Bucky."

Bucky snorts from his corner of the room, and Steve shakes his head while stifling a laugh. He wants to laugh at me, I know it, but he's doing his best to keep his serious face in check. When Captain America means business, he means business.

I look down at my hands which are encased in black boxing gloves and sigh. It's been three weeks since my sister was kidnapped, and it's frustrating as hell to know that I'm still here - hiding - while nothing is being done to find her. The nightmares have yet to subside, and now the visions of Ari's friends in a bloody mess around my living room are now supplemented by dreams of the woman I killed, with her knife at my throat. Sometimes I kill her first, other times I'm not so lucky. Either way, I've taken to sleeping with the light on and drinking lots of coffee. It's not the healthiest of habits, but I don't really see another solution. Eventually, I'm hoping that I'll be exhausted enough to sleep the entire night.

Maybe I should start taking Steve's training more seriously so I can get there faster.

"Self-defense is important, Chloe," Steve says, failing to hide a smile. "You don't have to use it if you don't want to, but it's good to know you can if necessary."

"I get that," I reply. "It's just...it doesn't sit well with me. I've spent most of my life learning how to help people, make them feel better. I don't want to learn how to do the opposite."

"Maybe you don't have to," Bucky interrupts, turning away from the punching bag he's demolished.

Steve lifts an eyebrow, "What do you have in mind?"

"You want her to learn self-defense," he replies, "but you're starting with an attack. It might be more beneficial to focus on a different technique."

"Like?" I ask.

"Aikido," Bucky replies.

Aikido. Right. He's looking at me like the answer is so obvious that I should've known it, but I'm absolutely clueless.

"It's a style of Japanese martial arts," he explains, registering my confusion.

I wrinkle my forehead, "So you want me to be a ninja? I don't see how that's different."

It's Steve's turn to laugh, and he swiftly gets a glare from his best friend. Raising his hands in defeat, the blonde shakes his head and backs away.

"You take it from here, Buck," Steve concedes, taking a seat along the far wall of the room.

Bucky turns back to me and steps forward to grab my wrist. Turning my hand, he tugs the velcro strap on the boxing glove so it releases before moving to the other one. I'm wearing a long sleeved training jacket over my tank top, so my skin is still covered, and I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea of taking the boxing gloves off. I don't want to burn him again.

"You're not going to hurt me," he murmurs, almost as if he read my mind, and tugs the gloves off one by one before tossing them to the side of the room by Steve's feet.

I curl my fingers into a fist as soon as they're out in the open and drop my hands by my side. I move to get my leather gloves from where they're sitting next to my water bottle, but Bucky grabs my upper arm before I can step away from him.

"Aikido was created with the goal of defending yourself while protecting your attacker from injury," he explains. "You're not going to attack me, you're going to protect me...while defending yourself. I know it only happens when you're stressed or upset, and that's not going to happen, okay?"

Taking a deep breath, I exhale loudly and nod. The doctors have stopped running their tests on me, and they've started encouraging me to learn to control my abilities. They're not even convinced this is the extent of what I'm capable of, but they seem to agree that it's more important for me to learn restraint before they start to test my boundaries.

"Do you trust me?" Bucky asks.

It feels almost as if his blue eyes are staring into my soul, and I realize the answer to the question far sooner than I should. Yes, I trust him. I don't know why, I don't know how. Hell, until a week ago, I'd never spoken to him. We've never spent more than 2 minutes alone in the same room together, until recently, and I still don't know how he knows my name.

I do know that I trust him.

"Yes," I reply softly. "I trust you."

*****
AUTHOR'S NOTE

Sorry for the delay, folks! I've had a migraine for 3 days, Wattpad crashed, and I'm getting ready to leave for a trip to the UK.

ANYWAYS. I have some bad news for you. I am going to be temporarily postponing regular updates on this story. What does that mean?

1. I will still update.

2. I won't follow my normal rule "no more than 3 days between updates". 

Between work, All Hail the King, my original fiction, and now leaving the country...I need a little leeway in my schedule. 

My goal is to get back to those near-daily updates by August 1st. (And, you should know, I'm notoriously impatient. It might be sooner than that.) 

I'm sorry! Don't hate me! Like I said, there will still be updates. They just won't be as frequent on this story. I love you all.

(Expect an update soon! I'll have another one up in the next day or so, because this chapter was just glorious filler.) 

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