Secretive - Bucky Barnes

7 || Striking || 🌤

I do not know where to look at first. His striking azure eyes, filled with a mix of hope and tiredness. Hoping I would believe him, would find back to the version of mine he remembers. Tired because of the long search that must lay behind him, with a lot of difficulties and obstacles to pass. His disheveled hair, still mixed with royal-blue blood and standing into every direction of the sky. His chiseled, almost in embarrassment contorted features when he gets absolutely no reaction of me, standing stock and still in his direct opposite without even breathing.

It would explain a lot. Like, a whole lot. Where my powers come from. Why I can beat Steve without much more than two or three strikes. Why I so often got out of impossible situations in the past; winning, always. Never missing. Yet, suffering nonetheless. A win never equals no sacrifice.

It would explain why I am so damn good with every weapon. Why one can just hand me one, or none and three men in my front armored, and nonetheless, they are dead in the same time they would be without constructions for self-defense and attack.

It would explain the strange strength of my bones. The gold of my blood, of my hair. Would explain why I am able to control fire and ice, why I am fast, can live without breathing or food or whatever else. A universal, indestructible weapon.

And yet, I do not believe him. This story is way too smooth to be true, way too well fitting and still leaves so many questions in the open. Why would I not have known or discovered myself? Why did he mention Lilith of all mythological, non-existent creatures if all this is about the Greek Belief? Why would my real, biological father – following his words – have died so many years ago and I could not remember? Why would I not remember how old I really am? Why would I not remember my true mother?

I cannot help it but imagine James chuckling about this. Telling me it would be fine, that he would stay by my side no matter what. Telling me that he was glad he would not need to be concerned about seducing a nineteen-years old as him himself being born in 1917. He would see no problem in that, no, more than this: He would tell me he always knew. That I always have been special to him, somewhat divine, and that it does not surprise him in the least to get to know his lover is a goddess.

But why would he not be here, then? Is he not fighting for me? Urging the Avengers to get me back? And if not for my sake, then for the sake of this planet? It cannot take that long, can it? They are not stupid. They must have run tests with him by now, even if only to check the damage I caused by burning his trigger. They would find the implant, would they not?

Brushing the thought aside, I clear my throat, bracing myself for the argument that is probably incoming. Slowly, I let myself fall onto the bed into a sitting position, without taking my eyes off of Alistair. »Look, I don't know what drugs they gave you, but I think you should get some rest and-«

The mere roll of his eyes interrupts me, before he has even opened his mouth to do so verbally. »I'm not on drugs. Read my mind.«

»What?« I shoot back, tilting my head, eyes wide in complete perplexity. What did he ask me to do?

»Oh, c'mon. Don't be so surprised. I thought you'd already figured out.« he responds almost giggling, like mind-reading was something without barriers for me, but it dies the second he realizes the seriousness of my expression. »Okay, sorry. Well, if you're not there yet, maybe... I don't know. We don't have all too much time anymore.«

»How convenient. Where would I know from you're not one of Hydra's projects? Simply trying to confuse me?«

»Now, what advantage would have confusion?« he scoffs, leaning back onto the cold, rusty metal bar to his right. 

»I don't know. Disorientation, distraction, manipulating-«

»See. I couldn't have made my mind about it without thinking at least half a minute, and you just blast the solution for the advantages of this tactic out like a bullet out of a pistol. I can see your mind working on the possibility, whether you're open for it or not. Always examining every path, no matter how improbable. Look, we will proceed like this: I will make room for us to talk, give me two days. I'ma show up as early as possible in the night, and I will explain everything you need to know, hoping the others don't arrive all too soon. Your parents sacrificed a lot for your safety.« The last part is whispered, and with its end, he starts sneaking towards the ventilation shaft again, soundlessly.