The Viper || BUCKY BARNES [2]

15 ― The Truth

2016 ― Siberia, Russia

Steve was able to get the jet in the air, but their window of escape didn't last long. Rhodey was hot on their trail, and Sam immediately veered off to intercept him. The sky pulsed with tension, and in a flash of light, Vision fired his stone toward Sam. But Sam's reflexes saved him—he spun out of the way just in time.

The beam hit Rhodey instead.

There was a sudden drop in the air—Rhodey spiraled downward like a bullet falling from the sky. Tony shot after him, desperation in every fiber of his body, but the ground met Rhodey first. Tony didn't get there in time.

Inside the Quinjet, silence filled the cockpit aside from the hum of flight and the weight of everything they'd just left behind. Steve remained focused, his jaw clenched, piloting them steadily through the clouds. Behind him, Bucky and Holland sat in the quiet, their bodies tense, minds racing.

Bucky's voice broke the silence.

"What's gonna happen to your friends?" he asked, his voice low, burdened by the toll of their escape and the consequences left behind. Steve let out a quiet sigh in response, shoulders rising and falling with the weight of leadership, of responsibility. Holland didn't speak—her eyes dropped to the floor.

She didn't know what would happen to the others. But what she did know was that if they were locked up... she'd never let it stand. She would break them out herself if she had to. She and Steve started this. Their choice to stand for something had inspired others to follow, and now those others might pay the price. She didn't regret the stand they took. But she hated that anyone else had to suffer for it.

"Whatever it is... We'll deal with it," Steve said finally, and the conviction in his voice was the only certainty they had left.

Bucky looked away, down at his hands. "I don't know if I'm worth all of this, guys," he said.

Holland's gaze snapped toward him. His words struck something deep in her. She could see the guilt written all over his face, heavy like chains wrapped around his soul. Quietly, she stood from her seat and stepped over to him, kneeling in front of him so she could look him in the eye. Without hesitation, she took both of his hands—one flesh, one metal—and held them tightly.

"Don't say that, Buck... what you did for all of those years... it wasn't you. It wasn't your fault; you were being controlled. You didn't have a choice." Her voice was steady, but the pain behind her words trembled just beneath the surface. She wasn't making excuses. She wasn't blind to the destruction left behind in Bucky's wake. But she knew the truth: he didn't do any of it willingly. He had been used. And now, he was left to live with the damage someone else had commanded his hands to do.

"I know... but I did it," he replied. His eyes slowly met hers, and there was something broken in them. He gave her hand a soft squeeze with his real one, as if to anchor himself to her.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I know... I know exactly how you feel..." she whispered. "I may have murdered my own brother, and I have no idea. It's haunted me for years, and I don't know if I'll ever come to peace with that situation if I'll ever know the truth about it."

Bucky's chest tightened at the sight of her like that—vulnerable, haunted, just like him. She didn't remember her missions with HYDRA. But he did. Every single one. Including the one that shattered her family. Because it wasn't her.

It was him.

He looked at her then, this woman who had seen so much, endured more than anyone ever should have, and still managed to hold onto her humanity. She would never have hurt Howard and Maria. But he had. And the knowledge of it was an unbearable weight. He wanted to tell her. He needed to. But the words wouldn't come. They stuck in his throat like ash.