Hell Bound

Forty-Five

I wasn't entirely awake, but I didn't lose consciousness either. At least not for very long. Whenever I started to drift off, Graham would shake my aching leg and ask me a question. I would open my eyes and mumble a response. But I wasn't fully alert until the truck stopped, and Bucky pulled me out of the front seat, carrying me in his arms like a baby. Graham shuffled along behind us, but I couldn't get my eyes to stay open. All I knew was that we were going upstairs, and then Bucky was pounding on a door. It opened quickly.

"What the hell happened?" the person asked.

"Just help me get her inside," Bucky demanded, shoving his way in to quickly get me out of sight.

"Lie her down on the couch." Then Bucky sat down but kept his arms tightly around me. Someone took my legs and forced me to lie down. Bucky turned my head so they could examine the wound. "Who the hell are you?" the man asked, poking at my face. His voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"I'm Graham, sir," the kid replied from the other side of the room.

"Who exactly is Graham?"

"I um—I work at Arby's?"

"He's been staying with her," Bucky informed him. And then I finally figured out the voice. I knew it. I just needed a minute.

"Captain Russell?" I said.

"Yeah, I'm here, Hayes," he replied. I laughed weakly and tried to pry my eyes open.

"Boy, do I have a lot of questions for you."

"I don't doubt that. How about we answer them when you're not bleeding on my couch?"

"Right oh, Captain."

"She's delirious. She's lost too much blood."

"Believe it or not, she always says weird things like that," Graham remarked.

"Believe it or not, I've known her long enough to know that."

"Known me a whole hell of a long time. Haven't you, Captain?" I continued. He sighed but ignored it. Either that or I just wasn't making any sense.

"She was shot in the leg," Bucky told him.

"I'm not as worried about it as I am about the head injury," Russell said. He examined the wound in my hair. "She'll need stitches. If not a full exam. Get her to Stark, and he can probably get her to someone who can help. We just need to keep her from bleeding out."

"A hospital isn't an option."

"I can stitch it when the bleeding slows."

"Do you have the supplies?"

"I have enough. She could do a much better job, but I don't think she's capable of it right now." He pressed something to my head, and Bucky moved to hold it. "You, Kid. Hold this to her leg."

"Yes, sir." Graham hurried to do what he was told, and I felt him press a rag against the burning spot on the back of my leg.

"And what the hell happened to you?"

"She broke my nose, sir."

"That's my girl."

"I was trying to save his life," I argued.

"I believe it." I groaned. Russell walked off, but I still felt Graham and Bucky.

"Why exactly did she break your nose?" Bucky asked him.

"I was trying to stop them from taking her," he explained. "They had more guns than me. So she punched me in the nose and kicked the gun out of my hand. By the time I was back on my feet, they were already gone."

"That doesn't surprise me." I heard Russell return, but I still couldn't get my eyes to open.

"Here, let me see it," he said. Bucky lifted the towel from my head, and Russell prodded at the wound again. I hissed from pain. "Hydra?"

"Yes."

"Then you can't stay here. I'll help you get her stitched up, but you'll have to leave."

"Not before I get some answers," I said.

"Sorry, Hayes. But I think your life might be more important."

"Where should I take her?" Bucky asked.

"Get the kid to take her to Stark or transfer her to Rogers. They'll keep her safe." They went silent as Russell cleaned the wound on my head. "You don't have to take her to Stark or Rogers, but I can't tell how serious this injury is, and she won't be safe here. They've been after me for a long time too. She could have bleeding in her brain, or it could swell. You can't take her to a hospital, and you can't take her home. She'll need time to recover."

"I don't want to go back to mooching off Stark," I argued.

"I don't think you have much of a choice at this point, Kid." He cleaned the blood off my face a bit more. "You're both covered in blood. You can find clothes in the back room. Help yourselves to whatever will fit."

"I don't need anything," Bucky insisted without moving. Graham loosened his grip on my leg.

"I'm pretty sure my nose is still bleeding," he said.

"Go get yourself cleaned up." He headed down the hall to find a bathroom, and Bucky gripped my arm. The other one stayed cradling the top of my head as I rested on his lap. "I'm going to start now, Hayes. Can you handle it?"

"'M fine," I mumbled.

"Take a deep breath." I did as he instructed, then he jabbed a needle in my skull. I ground my teeth to stop myself from screaming. "You got it?"

"I'm fine," I said more clearly. I dug my fingers into Bucky's leg as he worked. And after a moment, he began to pet my hair. "So, can I ask you a question now?" Russell sighed again, but talking was helping me ignore the pain.

"Right now might not be the best time."

"Just one."

"Fine. Just the one."

"Is it Hayes or Weisberg?" He didn't say anything for a moment as he worked on my head. I didn't know how big it was, but I could feel the needle working to shut it.

"It's Hayes, Kid. Always has been."

"What about you? Is it Russell or Weisberg?"

"One question."

"I think I'm allowed as many damn questions as I want." I finally got my eyes open, but it was hard to get my eyelashes unstuck. Bucky had helpfully tried to clean off my eyes with a wet washcloth. Russell was sitting on the coffee table before me, so I could only make out his chest and knees.

"It's Weisberg. Or at least, it was," he told me.

"So what does that make me then? Your niece or your daughter?" He was quiet as he finished up but never answered my question.

"You can sit up now," he said. I groaned and reached up to touch the haphazard sutures on my head. I was feeling much more alert now. But Russell grabbed my hand and moved it away. "Try not to touch it." I finally focused on him. He looked different. He'd grown a full beard, and the streaks of gray in his once solid black hair were even more noticeable now.

"Which one of us is the doctor?" I snapped.

"Right now? I am. Don't touch it." I dropped my hand back onto Bucky's lap and sighed. "Help me get her jeans up so I can see how deep the wound is." Bucky leaned down to yank my jeans up toward my knee. Russell moved down the table to poke at that one. "Just skimmed," he decided. "I'll bandage it up, and it should be fine as long as it doesn't get infected. What about the other ones?"

"Just scraped myself up when I fell. I'll be fine." He got to work cleaning the blood off of my leg. "I deserve to know," I whispered. I felt Bucky pat my hair again, smoothing it back even though most of it was caked in blood. I shut my eyes. I'd wanted to be near him again, but not like this. And now I might lose him forever so I could be stuck with Stark and Clara.

"Johanna," Russell said slowly. He used the proper pronunciation. Just like my family and Bucky did. "Your parents raised you. It doesn't matter where you came from."

"Where did I come from?" I pushed.

"It was Beata's choice. From the moment we knew. It's what she wanted. Raising a child was never an option for us."

"Can you just say the goddamn words?"

"I forgot how cranky you get when you're hurt."

"I think I'm allowed to be both cranky and hurt." He sighed again and wrapped a bandage around my calf.

"Jo," he said, leaning back on the table. He looked down at me with eyes that were so similar to mine. I hated that I'd never noticed. Well, at least the color was mine. "You were mine for a whole wonderful two and a half hours. That's it. I have no claim. I never have."

"I was your what?"

"My daughter." I nodded slowly and shut my eyes again. I didn't want to get emotional again, but my eyes were already watering.

"I got the box. I can't read the letters." He secured the bandage and sat back.

"You used to know how to read them. I taught you that. Taught you a lot of things. They took it all. Made you—less of a threat."

"I don't understand." He sighed for the millionth time. It sounded so much like my mom too. Like the constant goddamn sighing was a family trait. Now I understood why it drove my dad crazy.

"I considered letting you go when you were being discharged. I knew it would be selfish of me to put your life at risk just so I could get the chance to know you. But I figured it would also allow me to train you against them. To teach you how to fight if they ever came for you. So, I taught you how to read the code I used to communicate with my sister. So that someday you'd be able to read all the letters she sent me about your life. You figured it out. So, I told you everything. I kept no secrets from you. I taught you how to fight. And you were—spectacular, Johanna. You were lethal."

"And then?"

"They broke you." He stood up and went to clean up the mess we'd made in his minimally furnished apartment.

"Who?"

"Hydra," he said with his back to me. "It was my job to track them. That's what our team did. We thought they were nothing more than a few radical neo-nazi groups. We didn't suspect SHIELD. Not then. I was selfish when I asked you to join my team. Made you go up against the people who wanted you in the first place."

"How did they break me?" He tossed the bloody towels into the trashcan in his tiny kitchen.

"Don't know," he admitted. "Never got a straight answer. You were gone for three days. They had you, and we had some of theirs. They offered a trade, and we accepted. Found you wandering the goddamn woods. Delusional. You were never the same."

"How so?"

The door in the hallway opened, and Graham stepped out. His nose and eye were already bruising. I felt awful. I didn't mean to break his nose. But my shoulders weren't what they used to be.

"You guys should get out of here," Russell said instead of answering. "They won't be far behind. And the last thing we need is for them to get us both together."

"Can you please just answer my question?" He leaned against the counter that separated the two small rooms.

"You didn't know where you'd been. Didn't know what happened. We could barely get anything out of you. No idea where they took you or what they did. Except they'd torn apart your shoulder, and you coughed up water for days." Bucky froze, and I pinched my eyes shut again. "You couldn't get back to work. You couldn't focus or fight. You'd have panic attacks whenever someone put a gun in your hand. You retreated into your own head, and I thought it would be best to let you go home to your family."

"Until you got a letter from my mom?" I opened my eyes again to see him nod once sharply.

"You weren't doing too well. She was afraid of what you might do to yourself. So I came to see you, brought you the knives. Hoped I could talk you through it."

"You know I was planning on killing myself, right?" Bucky gripped my arm again, and I reached up to squeeze his metal fingers.

"I thought it was a possibility. Not only did you witness half your squad die, but you also had your brain pulled apart."

"You suggested me to SHIELD." He nodded.

"As I said, I didn't suspect them. Not then. I thought SHIELD would be the best place for you. I trusted Fury and Romanoff."

"You knew Romanoff?"

"She's the one who found you in the woods. Fury sent her. Never told me why, but I didn't have to try very hard to guess." I nodded slowly. Somehow that made sense. I always knew she was the one to suggest me for Steve's mission. But I'd never understood why. She knew something. Knew I had a connection to Bucky even before I did.

"Fury and Romanoff were clean."

"I know, but not everyone was. I regret sending you to them too. Just add it to the list. It's a long one." I moved to sit up, and Bucky put his hands on my arms to guide me. I rubbed my face.

"You know what they want me for, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes, but there's not enough time to go through it. You need to run. And fast. And never look back."

"Can you walk?" Bucky asked, standing up. His jeans were soaked in my blood.

"I think I can manage. Being stabbed in the head repeatedly with a needle gave me a jolt of energy." He helped me stand up anyway and wrapped his arm around my waist. Then he hoisted me toward the door.

"Thank you," he said to Russell as we passed him in the kitchen. Graham followed behind us.

"Do you love her?" Russell asked. Bucky paused by the door. I heard the sound of a drawer sliding open, and Bucky turned his head. He heard the gun before I did.

"What?"

"I've wanted to kill you every day of my life since the day I let her go. I've thought about it a thousand times. I knew it wasn't your fault, but I used to fall asleep at night imagining all the different ways I could make you suffer like you made me. But if you love her, and you can tell me with absolute conviction that you love her and promise to keep her safe, I won't shoot you."

Bucky didn't respond right away. He was breathing slow and steadily, but his jaw was tight. He was fast, and he probably had an advantage over Russell. He could disarm him quickly if he wanted to. But he turned his head just enough to make eye contact. And then he nodded.

"I do. And I will," he said.

"Say it. Make me believe it."

"I love her." Russell lowered the gun.

"Good. Because if you let them take her, they're going to tear her apart. Just like they did to you."

"I won't let that happen."

"They'll kill everyone she loves to get to her. They always do. She'll beg you to let her go. And you'll do it BECAUSE you love her. You'll spend the rest of your miserable life regretting it. But I guess you have a long list of regrets too."

"I won't let that happen," Bucky repeated.

"Good luck. You're going to need it." Bucky turned back around but didn't look down at me. I had a feeling he knew I was watching him. He was avoiding eye contact on purpose. He motioned toward Graham.

"We need to leave," he said.