Lost + Found [Bucky Barnes] ✓

Chapter 19

"Chloe?"

T'Challa's voice brings me back to the present as I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. We're not alone in the room, which is part of the reason I haven't found my voice yet - or remembered that I have feet which could be utilized to lead me away from this awkward situation - and the other part is sheer shock.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his dark eyes marked with concern.

I want to snap at him, slap him, something, but instead I continue to gawk. I feel like I've been hit by a freight train, had my pieces glued back together haphazardly, and promptly tossed off a fifty-story building to smash into fresh smithereens on the ground.

Am I exaggerating? Maybe. Can you blame me?

After all, I'm standing across the room from my father. My long-lost father, aka the man whose existence I knew abso-freaking-lutely nothing about until three weeks ago, the one who was actually married to my mother.

This is not the wonderful Finnish man I grew up loving. This is not my dad.

And I am pissed.

"You are just as beautiful as your mother," my father, S'yan, tells me with his thick accent. "You have her eyes."

I snort, breaking my silence, "That's funny, because everyone used to tell me I have my father's eyes. I can see now that it isn't true."

T'Challa gives me a stern look, but S'yan motions for him to remain silent.

"Artemis looks like my mother," I tell him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "She's the spitting image of her. Remember her? The daughter who was kidnapped? While you've been...where have you been? What the hell have I been doing here sitting on my ass while she is suffering?"

S'yan chuckles, "Sthandwa sam, you--"

"NO." I interrupt him, uncrossing my arms and taking a step forward to point my finger at his chest. "You do not get to call me that. I am not your love. I am not your family. If it wasn't for my DNA, I would not even be your daughter. My father died fifteen years ago, and you do not get to take his place."

I storm out of the room without letting either one of them speak, my purple hair flying wild around my face. Rounding the corner, I nearly collide with Steve's broad chest and grab his arm with my gloved hand to pull him along with me.

"Come on," I command, tugging the American mountain of a man down the hallway.

Surprisingly, he doesn't resist. We navigate toward the training room, and I slam open the doors to reveal a surprised Bucky working with the bag once more. He's covered with sweat, for once, and he's clearly been pushing himself to his limits. Two bags lay discarded and utterly demolished on the floor, while the third is looking a bit worse for wear. Wadded up on the floor is his shirt, and if it weren't for my rage, I would be distracted by the sight of him shirtless.

Well, more distracted by the sight of him shirtless than I currently am.

"No more waiting, no more prep work, no more dodging punches," I tell both of the men. "Train me. Now."

Bucky takes a step forward, his eyebrows knitted together, "Chloe, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lie. "I'm ready to learn how to fight."

He looks at me then glances at Steve, who shrugs, before rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. My fists are balled up at my sides, the leather uncomfortably tight as I squeeze my fingernails into my palms. I'm furious at T'Challa, I'm furious that he would spring my father on me without so much as a warning, and I'm furious that my father - no, that man - would dare talk to me with such familiarity.

"Okay," Bucky gives in, which prompts Steve to raise his eyebrows.

"Are you sure about this, Buck?"

The blonde super soldier doesn't sound convinced, but his friend nods to put an end to it. Steve lifts his hands in defeat, removing his jacket in favor of a t-shirt and jeans. I didn't really think about the fact that he wasn't dressed for training, but he doesn't seem to mind. Then again, being a super soldier probably means you can fight at a moment's notice - no matter what you're wearing - and still kick your opponent's ass.

"I want you to watch how I respond to Steve's punch," Bucky instructs, stepping forward so he's within Steve's range, before nodding to his friend. "Humor me, punk."

Steve throws a punch - clearly not holding back - and I nearly gasp, except he's on his back on the floor before I'm able to make a sound. Bucky is standing above him, the movement happening faster than I could comprehend, and he quickly helps Steve to his feet.

"I didn't strike, I didn't flip," he explains to me. "I simply used his momentum against him."

He motions for me to step closer, then instructs Steve to throw another punch - this time much slower. As he complies, Bucky's arm flies up to protect his face and deflect the punch in the same manner he's been drilling me on, but it continues the forward momentum to reach out over Steve's shoulder - pushing him backward - while he steps into his attack and hooks his foot behind Steve's in order to topple his balance and send him crashing to the floor.

All in all, it seems far too basic to be effective.

I watch them demonstrate the move a few more times with several variations - including a few two-handed additions that Bucky has Steve show me so I can use a simple wrist lock to amplify the move - before he instructs me to try it against him.

Deconstructed and slowed down, I'm able to execute the move after a few rounds, but my anger-fueled adrenaline is dwindling and I'm useless against Bucky's natural speed and grace. I can't topple him at full speed, even when he's holding back. Steve abandons our practice, leaving Bucky and I alone in the training room, and soon I'm nearly as frustrated as I was when I arrived.

"You can do this, Chloe," Bucky encourages me, resetting his stance and preparing to throw another punch my way.

I grimace, raising my hands to the ready position in front of my chest, and he fires a blow toward me. Deflecting it with my forearms, I use my left arm to grab his fingers and bend them backward like he showed me while my right hand stretches out to push against his shoulder, and my foot kicks angrily against his heel while I push forward into his space.

Miraculously, he falls backward. Unfortunately, I fall with him.

*****
AUTHOR'S NOTE

Oh yeah, I'm back. 

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