The Viper || BUCKY BARNES [2]

05 ― The Falcon and The Winter Soldier

2014 ― Washington, D.C.

Holland Stark was finally awake by the time they reached the quiet neighborhood where Sam Wilson lived. The walk from the ditch point to Sam's house had been long and quiet, but Steve hadn't let go of her once. Her steps were heavy, her mind still reeling from what Zola had revealed in the bunker. Though she said nothing, the weight of guilt pressed into every step she took.

Sam had just finished his morning run, a towel around his neck as he walked through his living room. The rhythmic knock at the back sliding glass door made him pause. He turned and immediately recognized Steve, covered in soot and flanked by Natasha and Holland, both looking just as worn down—physically and emotionally.

"Hey, man... Holly," Sam greeted them with a flicker of concern in his eyes. He didn't need details to know something had gone very wrong.

"I'm sorry about this. We need a place to lay low," Steve said, his voice tired.

Holland looked up with dull eyes. "Everyone we know is trying to kill us."

"Not everyone," Sam replied calmly, stepping aside to let them in without question. Natasha walked through first, Holland silently following her, and Steve brought up the rear. Sam scanned the area before closing the blinds and locking the door behind them.

Later, after a long, much-needed shower, Holland sat alone in the guest room. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders as she towel-dried it absently. The steam from the bathroom still hung in the air, but she barely noticed it. She was perched on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead, that far-off expression pulling tight across her features—an expression Steve hadn't seen in years but recognized all too well. It was the same haunted look she wore when Bucky fell from the train. When he nearly died under Loki's attack. And now... after seeing the twisted footage in the bunker, it hadn't left her eyes since.

Steve caught her reflection in the mirror from the bathroom, the way her posture curled slightly inward like she was bracing herself against her own thoughts. He stepped out quietly, drying his hands with a towel.

"You okay?" he asked gently.

Holland's eyes flicked up, pulled out of her thoughts by his voice. "Yeah..." she said softly, but even she didn't sound convinced. The word hung in the air like a lie both of them could see right through.

Steve sighed and tossed his towel aside. He stepped into the room and sat across from her on the edge of the bed. His presence was calm, steady—the one thing she could count on when everything else had unraveled.

"What's going on, Holly?"

She hesitated, then exhaled slowly. Her voice was strained. "For so many years, I thought I was avenging you and Bucky... not letting your deaths be in vain. I should've known that when they kept Zola on, something would happen. I should've kept a closer watch on him. I thought I knew what I was doing... but HYDRA had me right where they wanted me... in my own agency."

Her words came in a rush, the guilt pouring out as her head dropped, hands clenched around the towel. Steve didn't interrupt—he just listened. "None of that is your fault," he said. "It's the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fault for not listening to you when you told them not to bring in Zola."

She shook her head, the ache in her chest tightening. "I owe you."

Steve immediately shook his head, firm but kind. "Holly, come on. You don't owe me. It's okay."

Her voice cracked slightly. "If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life, now you be honest with me... would you trust me to do it?" Steve's expression fell for a beat. The question cut deeper than she knew—not because he doubted her, but because he could see how much she doubted herself.