Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 57 - Return of the Winter Solider

The air in Madripoor was thick, humid, and smelled of danger. Even walking through the crowded streets made my skin crawl. It wasn't just the hidden faces or the way everyone seemed to eye us from behind their drinks—it was the city itself, a haven for criminals and mercenaries. Every corner, every shadow felt like a threat.

Bucky walked beside me, his expression unreadable, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. Sam was just ahead of us, blending into the crowd with Zemo not far behind, leading the way as if this was a regular stroll through a park and not a criminal underworld. I hated this. I hated that we were here, that we were depending on Zemo of all people to get us through this.

"I don't like this," I whispered, leaning into Bucky's side.

He glanced at me briefly, his eyes softening for just a second. "I know," he muttered. "But we don't have a choice."

Zemo stopped in front of us, turning with that smug look I had come to despise. "Try to blend in," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "We don't want to attract unnecessary attention."

"Trust me, I know how to handle myself," Sam snapped, his patience with Zemo clearly wearing thin.

I stayed close to Bucky as we continued walking. I had been keeping a secret for weeks now, the pregnancy growing inside me like a delicate, fragile thing. Every day, I planned to tell Bucky, but now? In the middle of a mission, surrounded by danger? There was no way.

We arrived at a bar, the kind of place you wouldn't even want to touch the surfaces in. Zemo walked in first, his demeanor casual, like he belonged here. Sam followed, Bucky and I bringing up the rear.

As we moved further inside, Bucky leaned down slightly, whispering in my ear. "Stay close to me, okay? Don't wander off."

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured him. My hand brushed against his, and though we were in the middle of a mission, I felt the familiar warmth of his touch ground me. I needed that right now, with the overwhelming chaos that was sure to come.

---

The tension in the room spiked the moment we entered, and I could feel the eyes of everyone on us. Zemo exchanged a few words with the bartender, ordering drinks in some mix of English and Sokovian. The bartender's eyes flicked to Bucky, lingering on his metal arm, and my stomach knotted as I realized what was about to happen.

"Winter Soldier, attack," Zemo commanded, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.

My heart dropped, and I instinctively reached for Bucky's hand, but he had already moved. His entire demeanor changed in an instant, his movements sharp and lethal. He threw a punch, sending a man flying across the room, and the sickening sound of bone hitting metal filled the air. I flinched, but I couldn't take my eyes off him.

He was the Winter Soldier again.

I knew it was just an act, a show to keep up our cover, but watching him fall back into that role—watching him become that person again—made my chest tighten. I had seen glimpses of this side of him in nightmares, but seeing it now, in front of me, was different. Terrifying.

Zemo smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos. The other patrons in the bar backed away, their fear palpable as Bucky took down one man after another with precision and force. The old commands, the ones that had once controlled him, seemed to echo in the room, but I knew Bucky was still in there, fighting against the darkness that was trying to take him over.

"Emily," Sam whispered, pulling me slightly back, away from the center of the chaos. "He's got this. Just stay out of the way."

I nodded, swallowing hard as I watched Bucky. My Bucky. The man I loved, the one I had married, wasn't in control right now—or at least, he didn't look like he was.

The fight ended as quickly as it had started. Men lay groaning on the ground, nursing broken bones and bruises. Bucky stood in the center, breathing heavily, his metal arm gleaming under the dim lights of the bar. His eyes, though... they were blank. Empty.

Zemo stepped forward, a satisfied grin on his face. "The Winter Soldier is quite the asset, isn't he?"

I wanted to scream at Zemo, tell him to shut up, to stop treating Bucky like a weapon, but I held my tongue. We couldn't afford to blow our cover, not here, not now.

Bucky didn't look at me, his jaw clenched, his hands still curled into fists. I could see the struggle, the tension in every muscle of his body as he fought to come back from the brink. I wanted to run to him, to tell him it was okay, that I was here, but I couldn't—not yet.

---

As the chaos of the bar died down, we followed Zemo into a back room where we could regroup. Bucky was silent, his eyes dark and distant. Sam shot him a concerned glance but didn't say anything, clearly giving him space to process what had just happened.

I stayed close to Bucky, my hand resting on his back, feeling the tension radiating from him. My heart ached for him, but I didn't know how to help. Not here. Not in this place where he had just been forced to become the very thing he hated most.

"I'm fine," Bucky muttered, though it was clear he wasn't.

I wanted to tell him it was okay to not be fine, that he didn't have to pretend around me, but I couldn't find the right words. It was like there was a wall between us right now, built by the roles we were playing. And on top of that, there was the secret I still carried, the one I couldn't find the courage to share.

My hand absently moved to my stomach, and I wondered what Bucky would say when I finally told him about the baby. Would he be happy? Would he be scared? Or would the weight of everything else he was carrying make it impossible for him to process?

I swallowed hard, keeping the questions locked inside for now.

As Zemo outlined the next steps of the mission, I noticed Bucky's hands trembling slightly, the only sign that he was still affected by what had just happened. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

"We need to keep moving," Zemo said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "There's more work to be done."

I didn't respond, my focus solely on Bucky. He hadn't looked at me since the fight, and that worried me more than anything else.

---

Once we were finally alone, back in the dim safety of the room Zemo had set up for us, I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed Bucky's hand, pulling him to face me. His eyes were tired, worn, but still distant.

"You don't have to say you're fine," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I know you're not."

For a long moment, he didn't respond. He just stared at me, his jaw clenched tightly. Then, slowly, his shoulders sagged, and the tension in his body seemed to deflate.

"I hate this," he muttered, running a hand over his face. "I hate that I had to... be that again."

I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around him. "You're not the Winter Soldier anymore, Bucky. You're not. That wasn't you. It was just an act."

He let out a shaky breath, leaning into me, his forehead resting against mine. "But it felt real," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "For a second, it felt real again."

I held him tighter, my heart breaking for him. "You're here with me now," I said softly. "You're Bucky. My Bucky. You're not him anymore."

He nodded slowly, his hands gripping my waist like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And in that moment, I knew I couldn't tell him about the baby—not yet. Not when he was already carrying so much. For now, I would keep this secret and wait for the right time. Because right now, he needed me to be his strength, just as he had always been mine.