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 having trees block the window. I missed the shadows and the lumpy mattress. I couldn't even see any trees from my 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 speak at all, let alone about Bucky. Though we still differed in opinion, Clara was at least avoiding the "I told you so." I could hear it in her voice every time she opened her mouth.

Clara told me that taking Steve's mission was dangerous and that getting involved with Bucky was a bad move. I should have just stood back and done what I was told. I should have insisted Bucky talk to Steve right away and stayed out of their business. And I definitely should not have gone to bed with him. Of course, I never told her about that part, but I knew she'd be livid if she found out. Regardless, I still believed I'd done something right. Even if it hadn't lasted long, and they were likely going to wipe his memories again.

The few agents who were captured would tell them anything. Tony wasn't able to catch up to the SUV. Or at least that's what he told me. They interrogated the agent who'd instructed Bucky to shoot me. But after a cryptic "I was given strict orders not to kill her. I knew he wouldn't do it," he broke a capsule in his mouth and died before speaking another word. The survivors of Bucky's rampage in the living room wouldn't talk either.

Steve promised to keep looking, but every minute that passed felt grimmer than the one before. I knew all hope was lost when I heard the tap on the door and his quiet voice.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure, of course," Clara replied. She hopped out of her chair and went to greet him. She was so sweet toward him and so cold toward Bucky. I didn't blame Steve for getting me involved, but he was more responsible for what happened than Bucky was. But Clara continued to treat Steve like he was a saint.

I kept my eyes on the window. I didn't want to talk to him unless he had good news. And I could tell it wasn't good just by 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 on 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, setting a laptop down on his legs.

"Been better," I remarked.

"I have some news."

"I don't want to hear it unless it's good." He took a deep breath and 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 pretty much useless. The bullet had shattered my bone, and the pain hurt much worse than the first time I'd been shot. Bucky had been closer. And the first time had managed to miss any bones.

"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, leaning against the foot of the 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."

"I can still stay here. I can still help. I was getting through to him. I know what he's like. I know how he operates."

"You know how Bucky operates. Not the Winter Soldier."

"You can't even move your arm," Clara pointed out. "There's nothing you can do here. There's no place safer for you than with us."

"And what happens when you find him, and I'm not here to help?" I asked Steve. My voice cracked, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to fight the tears this time. "You're going to try and get through to him on your own?"

"Barnes might not come back, Jo," Sam told me. "No matter what you think you can do."

"You don't know that! You said that Hydra's higher-ups have been taken down. The guys who got into my house were amateurs. They were Hydra cockroaches. They have no idea what they're doing, and their facilities have been destroyed."

"Some of them," Steve said. "That's just in the US. We still have tons of information to sift through before we even scratch the surface of what Hydra has done and what they have their hands in. And uh—we managed to get ahold of some security footage from what we thought was an abandoned facility." I cut my eyes to him and looked down at the laptop he brought. I should have known he had it for a reason.

"How?" I asked.

"They sent it to me. And to you."

"Please don't?" I begged.

He stood anyway and put the laptop down on my legs. He opened the lid, and it instantly came to life on a black video screen. He tapped the play button, and I pinched my eyes shut and took a deep breath. I didn't want to see it, but I knew he was showing me for a reason. He wasn't going to let me run away.

The video started with what looked like a lab. It was black and white, and the screen and audio were fuzzy. Bucky thrashed around the room, knocking things over and throwing punches at whoever was dumb enough to approach him. They were trying to subdue him, but he was chaotic and violent, as well as sloppy on his feet. It was clearly after the drugs had worn off. But just barely.

"I don't want to watch this," I told Steve.

"You have to," he told me.

"Where is she?" Bucky growled with a slight slur in his voice. I wanted to shut my eyes, but even if I did, I'd never forget the sound of rage and pain in his tone. The deep throaty growl was more painful to hear than seeing him thrash around in a rampage.

"She's dead," someone shouted. "She's dead!" Another man appeared on the corner of the screen, holding his hand up in surrender. "She's gone!" Bucky stumbled back, unable to make sense in his hazy state.

"He never said I had to kill her. I heard what they were saying. They wanted her alive. I did what I was told. I shot her. I did what you asked."

"I know you did."

"You killed her?" His voice had gone so quiet I almost couldn't hear it. He straightened up and tightened his fists as he prepared to start swinging again.

"I didn't kill her! You were right. They wanted us to bring her back alive," the man said, hurrying to lift his hands to calm Bucky down. "It was Erikson. He disobeyed the orders. He thought he was protecting you from her. You don't know what kind of monster she was. You understand? You don't know what she's capable of. He thought it would be better this way."

"She's gone?"

"Yes. She's gone. I got the report back from Erikson. Point blank. No vitals. I can give you the report if you want it."

Bucky turned away, breathing hard and swaying on his feet. The others moved around the room, attempting to repair the damage he caused. He stood still for a long moment as the other man waved orders behind his back. Then after a pause, he reached for something off-screen and sat down in the chair.

"Just do it," he said. His voice had gone hard and cold.

He stuck a mouthguard between his teeth, and the man jumped forward to strap him in before he regained enough senses to change his mind. The machine started up, and the headpiece moved down to cradle Bucky's skull. His breathing sped up as he anticipated what was about to come. He told me once it was the only thing he really remembered clearly. It hurt every time. His fingers gripped the arm of the chair, and I reached out to shut the laptop before I had to see it.

"Why did you show me this?" I asked. My chest was heavy, and I didn't think I'd win against the tears this time.

"Hydra wanted you to see it," Steve told me. I pinched my lips shut and glared at the wall. I was angry at him for making him see it, even though it wasn't really his fault. "I wanted you to understand."

"He shot me to buy me time."

"I know."

"They told him I was dead—to make him more compliant. He let them do that—because of me."

"Because he thought he had nothing to come back to."

"He actually believed them."

"He was fighting off sedatives. And you have to remember what kind of control they have over him. It will take him some time to let go of the urge to trust them."

I breathed hard through the tightness in my chest. The tears were welling up in my eyes even though I was trying so hard to hold them back. I didn't want anyone to see me cry, let alone Captain America. I didn't want the tears to be mistaken for weakness. Clara patted my leg, and I moved away. I wiped the moisture away before it started dripping down my face.

"Was the video traceable?" I finally asked. Steve nodded.

"Stark tracked down the facility. An abandoned bank vault. It's been sealed off, but they vacated before we found it."

"What about the equipment? They wouldn't have been able to transport a cryogenic chamber on short notice." Steve shrugged.

"We don't know what they do or don't have access to. Hydra was using SHIELD, but they weren't SHIELD. Romanoff dumped all SHIELD files onto the internet. Most of Hydra's secrets were still encrypted. Or unavailable."

"Do you think they'll put him back under?"

"I don't know. But I'll do what I can to find him regardless. Even if they can't put him back on ice—they can still get into his head."

"He told me that he always started to remember things every time he was out of cryo for too long. He said it's what happened with you. His mind was already starting to slip, and it was harder and harder to put it back together the longer he was out. You just happened to accelerate it."

"That's what I'm hoping for."

"Why did you really show me this video, Steve?" I looked at him, and he gave a sympathetic expression. I couldn't hide my tears anymore, but he didn't look at me like he thought I was weak. It was understanding. And I felt like an ass for thinking it would be anything else.

"Because I think you should go to Malibu with your sister. At least long enough to get back on your feet. Let us do the dirty work until you're ready."

"Do you think he won't remember me?"

"No, he won't. They're going to make sure of it. And I think that's why you should go. If he doesn't remember and he kills you—what will that do to him when he snaps out of it again? There'd be no hope of getting him back after that."

"How long am I supposed to stay in Malibu? Until I can use my arm again?"

"However long you need to recover, Jo."

"I can do this. I can handle it."

"It's not about you not being able to handle it. Bucky is stronger than you. And he won't think twice about killing you. I want to put enough space between you to make him think twice. And you heard what they said. They were ordered to bring you in alive."

"You're pushing me aside because I'll get in the way."

"With an arm that doesn't work, yes. Stark can keep you safe while you recover. I promise I'll do whatever I can to get Bucky back. But I can't risk him getting to you first. Not if he thinks you're a threat. And believe me, Jo, they'll make him see you that way."

"You know it won't matter where you send me. If they send him after me, he'll find me." He nodded and stood up.

"I know. But at least you'd be safer with Stark than alone in your house." He collected the laptop and turned to leave. "I'm sorry, Jo," he said, patting my foot at the end of the bed. He gave Clara a nod and left the room. She followed after him, but Sam stayed behind. I didn't look at him, and he didn't say anything until they were both gone.

"I have something for you. I know it's not the same, but—I figured you could add your own sparkle to it," he said. He stood up and pulled something from his back pocket. Then he set it down in my lap. It was a hot pick switchblade. It didn't have bedazzled jewels on it like Clara's knife, but I appreciated the gesture.

"Remember what we talked about," he whispered so Steve and Clara couldn't overhear from the hallway. "You don't have to carry a gun to be a hero. Whatever it is you decide to do—all you need to do is call." I wrapped my fingers around the hilt and looked up at him.

"You said I might not be able to get him back," I reminded him. He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You won't get him back from this life. The running. The fighting. That's always going to be part of him. Just like it's always going to be part of Steve. You won't save him from that. But if anyone can get through to him, it's you. You just have to find a way to make it work."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"As I said, find your Project Falcon. Even if it's in Malibu. Even if it's something you thought you were running away from." I nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Sam."

"You're welcome. And I'll be waiting for that phone call. I heard that name they used to call you. Something about Knives?" He smiled and patted my foot before leaving me alone.