Death Where is Your Sting? - B. Barnes

Chapter 30

"Any leads on what's making Ray sick?"

"No. Not a thing."

"Damn it!" Bucky slapped his palm onto the kitchen counter, then leaned both hands on the counter and hung his head.

"We'll find it. Symptoms only started yesterday, and Sharon's got a bunch of stuff her team is combing through too." Sam went to the sink with his and Bucky's plates from breakfast. Torres was sitting with Ray while she slept. After she woke up sick the day before and spoke to Sam, her hostility simmered under the surface a little more, but she hadn't attacked anyone in two days now. She'd been quiet the rest of the day, feeling nauseous with a pounding headache, vomiting twice more as Bucky talked to her. This morning, Sam had fed Joaquin and armed him with a tranquilizer gun he'd gotten from Sharon - just in case - and told Bucky to take a break.

"It should be us, Sam. Sharon has no business -"

"It'd take too long, man. You know that. We're going as fast as we can through these files and its still..." Sam threw the towel from his shoulder to the counter in defeat.

Bucky sighed. "Not enough."

"I'm sorry, Buck. We're -"

"I know. It's not...not your fault."

"You think we're close to getting her memories back?"

"I think so. She hasn't said anything solid to confirm it but she's always getting headaches. And she's not as hostile."

"Thank God. That was exhausting."

"Tell me about it. I have to keep reminding myself that she's not just going to come back to herself all at once, you know? It was a process for me. And for her, the last time. It comes in pieces." Bucky paused, cleared his throat. "If we don't find an answer before she...before this thing...I really don't want to lose her, but I want...I would want her to come back, to remember before...if she..." Died. He couldn't say it out loud, it'd feel too real.

"Just keep trying. That's all we can do."

"Ray-"
"Don't!"
THUD.

"Shit!" Bucky raced down the stairs, followed closely by Sam.

Bucky skidded to a stop at the foot of the stairs, taking in the sight before him. Joaquin Torres lay on the floor, propped up on his elbows, chair toppled beside him, while Ray was doubled over on the mattress, arms still bound, pulling at her cuffs, chest heaving in panic. He froze, blocking Sam on the stairwell behind him.

"Torres? What happened?" Bucky's voice was quiet, gentle. If he yelled or panicked, it would just make her worse. He kept his eyes fixed on Ray.

"Ray - Nightmare. I tried to wake her up but she - I think I made it worse." Joaquin looked up at Bucky, guilt in his eyes.

"It's alright. You hurt?" Bucky extended a hand down to Torres to help him up, eyes never leaving Ray.

"Nah. Just tripped over the chair trying to give her space." His eyes travelled back over to Ray.

"Sam, why don't you take him upstairs, get me some water?"

"Sure thing. Come on, man." Sam clapped Torres on his shoulder and steered him upstairs. Torres glanced over his shoulder one more time at Ray, as Bucky slowly approached her.

"Hey. Hey, Ray." Bucky squatted a couple feet from Ray, lowering himself to her level, trying not to look like a threat. Her eyes were darting around the room, trying to orient herself, caught between past and present. "It's just us. I'm here. Breathe for me."

Her eyes shot to him as he moved a foot closer, and she turned, trying to protect herself, an impossible task with her hands behind her back. "What is happening?"