Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 26 - Escape

My muscles ached, and my mind was racing as the jet sped away from the airport. We had managed to escape, but barely. I glanced at Steve, who was focused on piloting, his jaw set with the weight of what had just happened. Bucky sat across from me, his face a mask of exhaustion and pain. He cradled his injured arm—what was left of his cybernetic one—and it made my heart clench to see him like this.

"How bad is it?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I reached out instinctively, wanting to help him, to ease his suffering in any way I could.

Bucky looked at me, his expression hard to read. "It's not the worst I've had," he replied gruffly, but I could see the strain behind his eyes. "I'll be fine."

I wasn't convinced. "Let me take a look," I insisted, moving closer to him. He hesitated for a moment but then nodded, letting me examine the damage. His metal arm was wrecked, torn apart in the battle. There were also bruises and cuts on his face and body, signs of the brutal fight we'd just endured.

As I carefully inspected his injuries, I felt a lump forming in my throat. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. We were supposed to protect each other, to stand up for what was right. But all I could see now was the destruction, the toll it was taking on everyone.

Bucky winced as I touched a particularly nasty wound near his shoulder. "Sorry," I muttered, pulling back slightly.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I saw the vulnerability there, the pain and the regret that he was carrying. "I chose this."

I nodded, unable to find the right words to say. We had all chosen this path, knowing it would come with sacrifices. But it didn't make it any easier to see the people we cared about hurting.

"We need to get somewhere safe," Steve said from the pilot's seat, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but I could hear the edge of tension in it. "We can't stay in the open for long."

"Where?" I asked, feeling the weight of the uncertainty pressing down on us. "Where can we go where they won't find us?"

Steve glanced back at me, his expression grim. "There's a safe house in Romania. It's not much, but it'll give us some time to regroup and plan our next move."

Romania. It seemed so far from everything we had known, from the lives we had built. But there was no other choice. We were fugitives now, running from the very people we once stood beside.

Bucky shifted in his seat, his gaze focused on the floor. "I'm sorry," he murmured, almost to himself. "This... all of this... it's because of me."

I reached out, placing my hand on his. "No, Bucky," I said firmly, forcing him to look at me. "This isn't your fault. Zemo set this up. He wanted to tear us apart, and he used your past against you. Against all of us."

Bucky's jaw tightened. "But it's still my hands that..." His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes, as if trying to shut out the memories that haunted him.

I squeezed his hand, wishing there was more I could do to take away his pain. "You're not that person anymore," I whispered. "You've been fighting against everything they made you to be. That's what matters."

He opened his eyes, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of hope. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The jet continued its journey, the hum of the engines the only sound in the silence that followed. I leaned back in my seat, exhaustion washing over me. My mind kept replaying the events at the airport—the fights, the betrayals, the looks on the faces of our friends as we turned against each other.

"Do you think they'll ever forgive us?" I asked quietly, not really expecting an answer.

Steve sighed, his hands gripping the controls tightly. "I don't know," he admitted. "I hope so. But right now, we have to focus on what's ahead. We have to stop Zemo."

He was right, of course. There was no time for regrets or what-ifs. We had to keep moving, keep fighting, for Bucky and for the truth.

"Try to get some rest," Steve said, his voice softer now. "We have a long way to go."

I nodded, closing my eyes, though I knew sleep wouldn't come easily. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw the faces of our friends—Tony, Natasha, Wanda—all of them. And I felt the crushing weight of the choices we'd made.

---

The safe house in Romania was a small, nondescript building nestled on the outskirts of a quiet town. It was isolated, surrounded by trees that provided cover from prying eyes. Steve landed the jet a short distance away, and we made our way there on foot, moving quickly and cautiously.

Once inside, Steve secured the perimeter while I helped Bucky settle onto an old couch. The interior was sparse, with just the basics—enough to survive but not much more. It would have to do.

"How's the arm?" I asked, kneeling beside Bucky. I could see him grimace as he moved.

"I've had worse," he replied, his voice strained. "I just need some time to... recover."

I nodded, but I could see the toll it was taking on him. Not just physically, but emotionally. The battle, the injuries, the constant running—it was wearing him down. It was wearing all of us down.

Steve returned, looking around the room. "It's secure," he said. "We can stay here for a while without being detected."

Bucky leaned back, closing his eyes. "What now?" he muttered. "What's the plan?"

Steve hesitated, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. "We need to get to Siberia," he said finally. "Zemo's there. He's the key to all of this. If we can stop him, we can prove what he's done. But we can't move until you're healed, Bucky."

Bucky opened his eyes, his expression weary. "I'm not sure how much time we have."

"We'll make it work," I said, my voice more confident than I felt. "We always do."

He looked at me, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You always know what to say," he murmured.

"Someone has to keep the spirits up," I replied, trying to inject some lightness into the heavy atmosphere. "Besides, we're not giving up. Not now."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Emily's right. We're in this together. We've made it this far, and we'll keep fighting. For the truth. For each other."

For a moment, the room was quiet, the three of us sharing an unspoken understanding. We were all in this fight together, against a world that had turned its back on us. We didn't know what the future held or if we'd ever find a way to make things right. But we had each other, and for now, that had to be enough.

I watched as Bucky closed his eyes, exhaustion finally pulling him under. Steve and I exchanged a look, a silent promise to keep watch, to protect each other. As I settled into a chair nearby, my eyes heavy with the need for rest, I knew that this was just the beginning of a long, uncertain road.

But as long as we walked it together, I believed we could find our way.