Catch Me If You Can | Winter Soldier x reader |

CHAPTER 24

Home— it's a simple, blunt word. Yet, there seems to be a mixture of emotion that would mend with it every time it slips out of a person's mouth. Home. It's a place. It could be a mansion, it could be a warehouse, or it could be the damp place under a bridge. But no matter what it was. It was home. Leaving the frail and weary household, Barnes could not help but feel as though it was foreign to him and he could not bear to call it that precious word no longer. It did not give the rippling warm sensation that he always got when he was in the sea of orange tents in the middle of the warehouse. Perhaps, that also had to do with the fact that he was standing beside you— the person he simply did not come to believe that he would grow so fond of.

The reason he was pacing so hastily away from his original household was because Steve came to know about Bucky's recent whereabouts and his newfound hobbies. But unlike what most people would have expected, the conversation was rather sad and reserved. Captain America was not entirely pleased that his companion was headed into another cult. Of course, Barnes responded very clearly that the Ambassadors was not a cult— it was an organization much like S.H.I.E.L.D. that was enabling citizens to live to the best of their abilities by helping them in all shape and form.

"But you know, Bucky. Robbing a bank? Killing a billionaire? I know that you acknowledge that they are not helping in a legal manner."

"That's what I like about them! They take from the rotten, spoiled and privileged people and give to those who need the help the most. They're balancing everyone. And I respect that more than you'll ever know."

Steve gaped at the man, not saying any more beyond that point. Though the distant expression dawning the main's pale features seemed to tell Bucky what was needed to be told.

Do whatever you want.

Don't get hurt.

I'll be waiting for you if you're ready to come back.

So without another word exchanged, the male left with a shrill sensation spiral down his back from the sheer guilt that engulfed him. He felt like he betrayed his companion for one, having kept such a secret from him for so long, and two, for going against him in such a way.  The encounter with his closest companion had left the young man in a state of mind that he could not describe. Throughout the entire week, Bucky had mustered plenty of giddiness— having accomplished adrenaline fueled missions and bonding with you and all. But Rogers' brief words and glances had diminished that sensation and left nothing but this cringe-worthy feeling springing inside. Barnes, in any other circumstance, would have allowed his temper to get a hold of him; yet, the accumulated thoughts in his mind had restricted him from doing so for once. Rogers, in all shape and form, was absolutely correct about everything that's wrong with Bucky's situation.

First of all, Barnes had just come out H.Y.D.R.A. It was only wise if he was a lone wolf for a while to settle down. Second, the Ambassadors are S.H.I.E.L.D's least favorite organization, as of late. Third, Bucky kept a secret. Fourth, Bucky relied on a stranger more than his own old companion. And lastly, the Ambassadors weren't as great as the man had bragged. It was an association that was run by the abuse of power and although the intentions were good, the participants were forced to remain in the group instead of cooperating by their own will.

These reasons had chanted inside the man's thick skull like a mantra that he had grown off of. He did not intend to dwell in the past, especially when Barnes had larger issues to confront when he headed to the warehouse, but he could do nothing. His mind wished so dearly to keep him bothered. Absent-mindedly, the man had strolled towards the entrance of the Ambassador's headquarters, blindly colliding into the barrier that had always been present. Strangely enough, however, the barrier had never kept Barnes out, or anyone out for that matter. Mason had put a force field up so that people would walk inside the disguised warehouse. If you were a member of the organization, you would see the orange array of tents. But, if you were not, you would see nothing more than a grumpy old building that holes and ditches in every corner. Knitting his brows into a frown, the man placed his meaty hand onto the barrier and attempted to shove it, punch it and move it— of course, none of his attempts worked as he had hoped.