Reaching Out | Bucky Barnes

9 | Thursday, June 3rd

We arrive at the Compound right at 12:30, tucking the jets back into their spot in the hangar.

"I've got him," I say, lifting the pissed-off-looking man and moving him out of the jet. He woke up about halfway through the trip, but wouldn't say a word despite our attempts to get him to talk.

As we walk through the hangar, he squirms in his bonds, earning a tightened squeeze from me.

"Give it a rest. You're just going to hurt yourself," I hiss as he yanks at his cuffs.

"No, no, keep going," Rhodey smirks from beside me.

I give him a mock glare as we make our way into the main building.

Tony called just before we landed letting everyone know we would be there soon, so the rest of the team is around the kitchen chatting quietly when we walk in.

"Is everyone alright? You didn't give us much to go off of with that message," Wanda stands from the couch, making her way towards us.

"I like to keep people in suspense," Tony smiles, "we're going to chuck this guy in a cell then we'll debrief."

I follow Tony through the halls and down flights of stairs to a sub-level I didn't even know existed. We turn into a large room with four doors and Tony taps a screen on the wall, opening the door closest to us to reveal a cot and toilet. I drop the agent inside and hold him still until the door slides closed, the tension leaving my body only once the metal separates us.

"One thing dealt with," Tony mutters as we exit the room.

When we get upstairs, everyone is at the conference table, and I see someone has laid out snacks.

Blessed.

I grab a handful of carrots and drop into an empty chair, grimacing slightly as pain radiates up my spine while Tony taps at the screens, bringing up a picture of the notes, the partially-destroyed group photo, two maps, and some log sheets.

Steve begins explaining how they got in, before his features darken "We intercepted messages between Russia and Sweden saying Sweden was compromised and to begin evacuation of personnel and subjects..."

"There wasn't any information on what they might be doing, but we know that they have at least forty patients... They could be there voluntarily, however there's no way to know," Natasha explains.

"Wait—they had people in there? Then why did we leave?" I rush. "We should have done something."

Steve runs a hand over his chin, head shaking. "I told you, we didn't have the numbers. And if we tried, we wouldn't have made it out. We had no idea what we would be up against; not the numbers or weapons, and we wouldn't have had the resources to restrain people. It would have been a suicide mission."

No.

No, it's not right.

"But they were evacuating, what if that was the only chance to get people out? S.H.I.E.L.D. must have fast planes too, or someone could have helped—even if it was high risk, shouldn't we have tried?"

"If we run into something we can't handle, we risk not coming out and then who's there to fight tomorrow?" Steve says gently.

I'm silent at his words. They make sense, but all I can think of is how close we were to people. How, in a few more feet and we may have found cells, with people who wanted to go home. Like my parents.

"This is why we shouldn't have gone in without S.H.I.E.L.D.," Bruce bites. "If this mission was on their radar, we could have gotten a support crew and stopped that evac."