Soft Robotics ✧ Bucky Barnes

(genetics[2.28]);

cw: mention of prescription drug abuse here and in the next chapter

I pulled into my mother's driveway, outside the uniform, suburban house she'd moved into after I turned 18. "Can you guys wait out here?" I asked Wanda and Vision. "She's not big on new people. I won't stay long."

They agreed reluctantly. I texted the address to Bucky like he'd wanted.

I didn't ring the doorbell when I walked onto her front porch. Instead, I opened the screen door and knocked three times. Three was my mom's number.

"Gracie," she smiled, sounding strained. I couldn't tell if she was just generally stressed about having a visitor or if she had an inkling as to what I was really there to talk to her about.

"Hey," I greeted, my chipper tone as fake as hers. God, she looked just like me. Too much like me. I was looking at my own face in twenty five odd years. I'd just never thought much of it.

I wondered if it had freaked Tony out, how I kept looking more and more like my mom every year. He knew her when she was in her mid thirties. I wondered if he'd made some inferences the moment he saw that clones were involved. I wondered if he even would've needed Colin's hint.

She didn't hug me. She didn't really do that ever. I walked past her into the living room.

"Sit down," she told me. "Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please," I answered, because that was what I always did. I tried to keep things consistent with each visit.

I took a seat on a firm, slip covered sofa. Her low heels clicked against pristine hardwood floors as she went to the kitchen. Her whole house looked like it could've been in a 1950's cleaning product advertisement. I saw a lot of my own taste in her decor, and it made my stomach churn.

She handed me a mug of tea and scooted a coaster toward me. She walked over to the window and peeked under a curtain. "Are there people in your car?"

"Just some friends. We have plans after this, but they didn't want to intrude."

I saw her frown as she took a seat in a chair across from me. "Friends from where?"

"The university."

"Oh," she paused. "Brock Rumlow is dead."

Cool small talk, Mom. "Yeah, I know."

"Shot from a prison watchtower trying to escape."

"Yeah, I heard."

"Are you relieved?"

"I guess. Are you?"

"I guess."

I took a sip of my tea. So did she. Neither of us wanted to talk, apparently.

"I saw a picture of you," I said finally. "From when you were around my age."

"You're here about the cloning. I knew it. Because that's the thing—you're me, but smarter. That's why you never needed me. You were always going to figure it out."

I didn't know where to start. "I don't have a dad," I said, wanting her to confirm it.

"Not in the traditional sense. I'm just going to take a pill." She stood up quickly, hurrying back into the kitchen. "For my nerves. From the doctor."

"You've been seeing a doctor about your nerves?" I called after her, shocked.

"No, for my old wound. For the pain. But they help my nerves," she said, coming back in and sitting back down, apparently having taken her pill. I crossed one of my knees over the other at the same time she did, both of us shifting under our skirts, mirrored.

I'd address the pill more thoroughly later, I thought. I studied her intently. "What do you mean that I don't have a dad in the traditional sense?"

"Well, I just meant Arnim Zola," she said, as if that explained it.

"What are you talking about? Zola? From World War II?"

The one who'd hurt Bucky?

"You don't know—oh. That was the whole point of the program, Gracie. HYDRA preserved his—I don't know. Cognitive functioning? Intelligence?" She was getting agitated. "Whatever genes you have that made you so smart, those are all from him, not me. They wanted to produce more scientists who could work for them, recreate the serum first and foremost, but to go beyond that as well. And I think Zola had some sort of immortal mad scientist god complex or something, I don't know. He was long dead when I became involved."

"Start from the beginning," I urged her.

"I was living on the street. They took me in. All I had to do was give them samples of my DNA. They needed more than just Zola's brains to make a person. They wanted me because they thought I'd be easy to manipulate, I think, which would make you easy to manipulate one day too. And I was, at first. Then I saw you. When you were a baby. I...I don't know, I felt like you were my daughter. I took you and ran."

"Didn't they look for you?"

"We were in hiding for most of your childhood. Even when you were in school. I took the name Cunningham from an old teacher of mine. Forged some documents. Moved to...moved to...New York."

"Mom?" I asked, concerned as she seemed to grow vacant looking, drooping a bit.

"It's the pill working, darling."

"Right," I said slowly.

She leaned forward and put her tea on a coaster. I did the same.

"What else do you want to know? I'm quite re—quite relaxed."

"You should maybe lay down," I said. I was starting to feel nauseous from the information. All I could think about was making it back to the car once I was sure my mom was okay. I was hoping Wanda or Vision would drive and let me lay down in the backseat.

"Yes, I should maybe..." she slumped over in her chair, unconscious.

"Mom?" I stood up to get to her, and that was when I realized how disoriented I was. Black splotches appeared in my vision, and I couldn't blink them away. I nearly stumbled onto the coffee table.

"Here—" Someone was speaking in a clipped tone beside my ear all of a sudden. I hadn't noticed them approaching. An arm tried to support my waist. There was someone else here. I thought I heard more footsteps on the other side of the room. My head was spinning. I jerked away with the strength I had left, still trying to get to my mom. "Grace, just lean on me. You're gonna hit your head when you—"

END OF PART TWO