Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Chapter 88 - The Final Forty Two

Shuri had been right when she suggested James could fight through the rest of the gray strands in one evening. But the toll was painstakingly high.

Forty-two memories.

In just under seven hours, James had sped through forty-two gore-laden, guilt-ridden, nightmare-fueling memories. Your stomach had remained in constant churn - threatening to expel the meager contents of the bread rolls and fruits you had picked at during dinner as you witnessed more dead bodies and heard the pleadings of mothers and fathers begging to be spared. Begging for their children's lives. Begging for mercy.

But the Soldier heard none of it.

The Soldier killed without remorse. Without feeling. Without hesitation.

But not James.

James feels it all. Every moment. Every scene that passes by in five times the speed of normal life as his mind processes the remembrances.

You stand nearby, but out of his direct line of sight at Shuri's express command. She can't have James distracted by you or Steve. She can't risk the memories becoming tainted by thoughts of either of you. But it pains you not to be near. Not to hold him. Not to at least touch him as he writhes against the vibranium cuffs.

"How many more?" you ask, as flashes of a sniper's barrel flit across the hologram.

"This is the last one," Shuri whispers.

"The last one?" you exhale. "You mean...after this we're done? Done, done?"

"Done, done," Shuri nods.

Your chest tightens as you glance back to the projection materializing from the neural interlink. You can see through the Soldier's sniper scope as he surveys the surroundings. The land is mountainous. Semi-arid. The Soldier waits - still as night - his scope watching an abandoned dirt road. For several long, silent minutes representative of many hours, nothing happens. But then you can hear the distant hum of an engine as it starts creeping closer.

"Oh God no...no, please," whimpers James from the chair, his eyes screwed shut as the images continue to play through the interlink. "Can't...not this one...please," he begs, tears dripping down his cheek.

You take a step towards his chair, but Steve grabs your shoulder at the same time that Shuri lets out a piercing hiss. Your gaze cuts to hers, but she shoots you a firm glance and shakes her head no.

"Didn't know," James whimpers in distress. "F-forgive me, Chernaya."

You glance to Steve, whose brow is creased in concentrated worry as he stares at the projection. Suddenly the sniper's focus shifts as he adjusts his view, shifting slightly and following the road towards a bend. Into frame rolls a single Humvee, some sort of Arabic writing on the side.

"Uh oh," Steve says under his breath.

"What?" you question.

"Oh boy," Steve says, jaw tense. "Not good."

"What is it, Steve?" you whisper.

But Steve's focus is stuck on the projection as the Soldier's scope zooms in on the back tire of the Humvee. It follows the tire for a moment, then with a partial exhale, the Soldier fires.

The Humvee's tire explodes.

The vehicle careens over the mountainside, leaving behind it a trail of smoke and dirt.

Steve winces as James' anguish grows. You're confused. This memory isn't nearly as graphic as the others - yet James is growing increasingly agitated. And this is the only one Steve has struggled to watch. Even now, you can tell he's torn between looking at the projection as the Soldier stores his rifle and starts running towards the site of the crash, and looking away.