Monster

Thirty-Five

The window was too goddamn bright to get any sleep. Clara said I needed as much rest as I could get, but I was used to my tree-shaded bedroom. I missed the shadows and the lumpy mattress. I couldn't even see any trees from this floor–just a clear blue sky and the city beyond. I couldn't sleep.

At least Clara had taken the hint and stopped trying to talk to me. I was still groggy from surgery and didn't want to talk at all, let alone about Bucky. Though we still differed in opinion, Clara was at least avoiding the "I told you so" that I could hear in her voice every time she opened her mouth.

She told me that taking Steve's mission was dangerous and that getting involved with Bucky was a bad move. Stupid, she said. I should have just stood back and done what I was told. I should have insisted they talk it out right away and minded my own business. And I definitely should not have slept with him. Of course, I hadn't told her about that part, and I knew she'd probably tell me off if she found out. But still, I felt like I'd done something right. Even if it hadn't lasted long, and they were likely going to wipe his memories again. I might be the only person who ever knew what really happened between us, and I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

Tony wasn't able to catch up to the SUV. And the few agents they'd captured from the fight in my living room hadn't said anything. Or at least that's what I was told. They interrogated the agent who'd instructed Bucky to kill me. But after a cryptic, "I was given strict orders not to kill the vessel. I knew he wouldn't do it," he broke a capsule hidden in his teeth and died before speaking another word.

Steve promised to keep looking, but every minute that passed felt grimmer than the one before. Because the more time went on, the higher the chance they were removing me from his memories. I knew all hope was lost when I heard the soft tap on the door and Steve's quiet voice.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure, of course," Clara replied. She hopped out of her chair and went to greet him. She was kinder to him than even the mention of Bucky. Of course, she'd never met Bucky, but even just saying his name got a sneer out of her. I didn't blame Steve for getting me involved, but he was more responsible for what happened than Bucky was. She just thought Steve could do no wrong.

I kept my eyes on the window. I didn't want to talk to him unless he had good news. And I could already tell it wasn't good just based on the stance of his shoulders from the corner of my eye.

"She's not really up for company," Clara informed him. "But I'm sure it's important. Though I should warn you that she's still a little loopy. She uh–has no verbal filter. She's kind of mean actually." Another voice laughed. It sounded like Sam.

Steve appeared around the side of the bed and sat in the chair beneath the window. I couldn't ignore him if I tried. He gave me a smile, and I stared back emotionless.

"How are you doing?" he asked as he pulled a laptop out of the bag at his side.

"Been better."

"I have some news."

"I don't want to hear it unless it's good." He sighed.

"You told me to keep you updated. Sam and I have been following his trail."

"I know."

"We thought it might be best if you went back to Malibu with Stark and your sister–for the time being." I tried to sit up but winced from the pain. My right arm was stuck in a sling and basically useless. The bullet had shattered my bone, and the pain somehow managed to be worse than the first time I'd been shot.

"I can't go to Malibu," I insisted. "I have to find Bucky. No offense, Steve, but I'm the only one who will be able to get through to him."

"No offense, Jo," Sam said as he leaned against the foot of my bed. "But you're not going to be able to do much of anything. Not while Barnes is with Hydra, and they've got you on their list."