Not A Bad Thing || Captain America/Steve Rogers [COMPLETED/BEING EDITED]

Chapter 39: Bucky

Steve

Sam and Tony convinced me to call Natasha because the two were best friends and she deserved to know. Also, we could use her and her skills for this rescue operation if we survived her rage. It was something that Sam was utterly afraid for, especially after a certain incident that left me wondering if he could still have kids.

"You're joking, right?" she screamed over the phone. "You better be bullshitting me, Rogers."

"I wish I was," I whispered into the phone. 

"Romanoff, honey, we would all appreciate it if you get here in the next few hours because we still have another metal-armed assassin to find," Tony called out, hovering over me as I spoke to her.

The woman growled. "We're going to find Bucky too? You boys are so lucky that I'm still in Europe. I'll be there within the hour."

She hung up, but not without cursing us out. We couldn't understand most of it, of course, but Tony used a translator and shivered once we found out what it meant. 

Her anger was more than appropriate, considering her best friend was Hydra's new little toy. If there was anyone who loved her more than me, it would be Nat. And trust me when I say this, but she would probably kick us around before carrying on with the rescue.

By the time she arrived, we've finished compiling a list of possible places Bucky would be and plans to find him or draw him out. 

"He won't be there. I'd say he's in that apartment building under an alias," Nat put in, propping her feet on the edge of the bed. 

"We checked. The landlord said no one that lives there looks like Bucky," Sam told her. 

She laughed. "Have you ever seen a pattern in his walks? Besides the same route?" We all shook our heads. "He always arrives at that specific market at 11:30 every other day. He always buys from the same stand to give something to the old woman that shops there at the same time."

She brought up every picture at the market and zoomed in on the timestamps. Not surprisingly, she was correct. 

The three of us lifted our heads to look at her, while she rolled her eyes at our lack of paying attention to detail. She stood up and gathered her things.

"I'm leaving to find my best friend. Are you guys coming?"

"I don't know which assassin is worse, Kylie or Natasha," Tony grumbled, following the red head out of the hotel room.

Sam began to call them back, but I told him that he didn't need to. The two walked back in before no time. 

"It's two in the morning. We will resume tomorrow," Nat spoke quietly, obviously embarrassed, and threw herself onto a bed. 

Everyone occupied a space in the room to sleep. It was a long day and I couldn't blame them for needing rest. But I couldn't do the same, no matter how hard I tried. 

Kylie was out there, and I knew that no matter how tough she could be, she was scared out of her mind. I couldn't sleep knowing that she was.

After an hour, I went to the balcony for fresh air. The hum of the TV masked the sound of the balcony door sliding open, leaving the others unbothered.

I stepped into the cool night breeze and closed my eyes. I needed to think clearly but my screaming conscience thoroughly prevented it. 

Shutting down my sense of vision only intensified the pain in my chest. It was relatively dull, but was pain nonetheless. It was a feeling that I haven't felt for decades since Bucky's alleged death.