Redemption ||Bucky Barnes||

38. Status Report

I don't sleep during the ride, I don't want to. I don't want to and suddenly have Bucky change back. It's strange to watch him, the man I know is currently replaced by someone unfamiliar. I want that mask off his face so bad. I contemplate going to him and taking it off.

Jessabelle doesn't stir, she twitches every once in a while. Bucky doesn't sleep, he's watching me just like I'm watching him. It's almost a staring contest sometimes. I picture a neutral expression or a scowl behind the muzzle.

"Get ready, we're close," Agent Romanoff says.

I yawn. I'll be happy when things are situated. I want to retire to a nice bed and sleep this ordeal off. I hear Agent Romanoff talking with someone on the other end of the line, clearing things with them.

I feel the plane start to dip slightly, feel the drop in my stomach. I don't look out to see the scenery, I keep my guarded eyes on Bucky and Jessabelle. The tables have turned. I can't help but smile just a little. Jessabelle is going to get a taste of her own medicine. She'll play prisoner for once.

I feel the plane touch the ground, hear it slowly shut down. I stand up and stretch before carefully approaching him. He watches me, I see him flex his fingers. I pause and wait a few moments before I go in even closer. I don't see his usual light, I see the predator's twinkle in his eyes.

He's still got to be in conflict with himself. It's the only explanation as to why we aren't massacred.

I only touch the muzzle at first with my fingertips. He doesn't move but keeps his eyes well on me. I don't like the material, it can't be comfortable on him. I frown. He's a tortured animal right now, not human. Not yet.

Gradually, I ease my hand onto the muzzle.

I don't get it off him.

With sharp reflexes, I feel the bionic hand around my right wrist. I scream in pain after I feel it, the twist. Hear the crack. I recoil, pressing my arm to my chest. I look at him in horror, my lips part. My breathing catches.

Something changes in his eyes. They aren't predatory anymore; they're wide, spooked. Guilty. Remorseful. Upset, but not in an angry way. Does he realize that he's hurt me? I whimper and shy away from him as his reaches his hand out towards me. With his other hand, he gently tugs me to him. Suddenly, I don't want to be in the same area as him, breathe the same air. I want to be alone and forget this ever happened.

"Let her go," Agent Romanoff says lowly. She has a gun pointed right at Bucky, who gives her daggers. Hot tears stream down my face as I back up and cower into the corner.

He broke my wrist, all because I wanted to take off the damn thing. Whatever trace of Bucky that had surfaced is now suppressed. Bucky wouldn't have done that if he had been in total control. He would have been more than happy to have that thing off his face. The Winter Soldier...that's a different story.

During the tense standoff, the plane's hatch lowers, and agents crowd inside. Agent Romanoff nods, and a few snatch Jessabelle and carry her off. Few remain in the plane, weapons on Bucky, waiting for him to comply. His eyes don't leave me as he gets up. An agent has to prod him in the back to get him moving. He keeps trying to find me even as he's escorted out.

Agent Romanoff crosses to me. "Let's get this fixed."

With a guiding arm, she escorts me out of the plane and into our new hideout.

* * *

My wrist was officially declared broken and casted up.

When I was getting tended to by a doctor I trusted, I kept thinking about Bucky. How he had gone from animal back to himself in that split second. He had to have known that I meant something to him and that hurting me wasn't something that he wanted to do.