"He's in bad shape," Lila told Natasha, her own body aching. She knew they'd both recover. They always did. Besides, it wasn't her body that truly hurt.
It was her heart.
Seeing Bucky the first time had been painful. Fighting him had been brutal. He'd nearly killed her, the metal arm wrapped tightly around her neck, slowly squeezing the life from her.
If Steve hadn't stepped in, she'd certainly be dead. And truth was, it would be better than the emotional hell she was currently in. Hearing the shot ring out, seeing Steve shot. Watching Bucky beat his best friend nearly to death. Watching him obviously struggle with his own mind as Steve refused to fight back.
But she couldn't just watch, could she?
She managed to pull herself up and pull the pistol from her holster, aiming it at the man she'd once planned on marrying. The only man she'd ever loved. She pulled the trigger and she might as well have shot herself.
She didn't remember much more. She'd blacked out and woke in the hospital. The doctor had informed her of Steve's condition and she'd slowly made her way down the hall to see him. He was still unconscious, and her heart ached.
Bucky had done that.
Her Bucky.
He'd nearly killed them both.
"What happens now?," Natasha asked her and she simply shrugged. She knew what she meant. But could she go after him? Would it even matter? Could she even find him if she did?
"He was starting to break," Lila told her, "he was fighting himself as much as he was fighting Steve. The wall was threatening to fall," she told her. She knew that feeling all to well. She'd gone through the same thing.
But remembering was painful. Remembering equaled pain. They went hand in hand, didn't they? With HYDRA, they certainly did. She could only imagine what kind of state he was in.
Lost.
Afraid.
Confused.
And it ripped at her. She wanted to find him, protect him. Because she knew, if HYDRA found him, he'd pay. He'd pay for his failures and most likely with his life.
Fail once, you're punished.
Fail twice, you're dead.
And she couldn't let that happen to him.
But everything was a mess. Everything has fallen apart. She and Steve had nearly died. SHIELD had fallen and HYDRA was out in the open. Again. And anger washed over her. She'd fought so hard to escape, to regain her life. Only to find that she'd been working for them all along.
"You're leaving," Natasha said quietly. Natasha knew her, she could read her like a book. Everyone was compromised, weren't they? And Lila knew the dangers in that. Only a few knew her secret, now it would be common knowledge. She felt like there was no other choice for her.
"What option do I have?," she asked rhetorically. "I've done all I could to hide who I am, what I am," she sighed heavily. "And now, it's useless. Everything I thought I knew is a lie. I ran from HYDRA, only to end up back in their arms."
She felt broken. Lost. And all she wanted to do was run. Get as far away as she could. She knew what she needed to do, who she needed to find. So she'd heal, she'd get well, get strong.
And she'd run.
"I knew she wouldn't stay," Steve said, exasperated as he tried to sit. Natasha felt guilty. She hadn't tried to stop her, although she knew it would have been no use. Lila would have done it regardless. She understood. She knew what it felt like.
"Do you think she'll find him?," she asked and Steve nodded. "If he can be found," he said, "Li will find him. She won't give up. She'll search the entire earth if she has to." He closed his eyes and let out a breath. A silent prayer was said that they'd both be safe. But he was right. If she could find him. She would.
Bucky hid.
He didn't know where he'd go, what he'd do. But he was resourceful. He'd figure something out. He'd make it, he'd find a way. But it haunted him. Her face. He'd see it every time he closed his eyes.
Flashes.
Her smile. Her laugh. The way she'd say his name. He didn't remember much, but there was a dull ache every time he thought of her. He couldn't remember her name, it wouldn't come.
Yet he missed her.
Was that possible? Apparently it was. To miss someone he couldn't remember. He knew she was important to him somehow. She had to be. Yet he could find no trace. Not in books, not in museums.
He'd see her again. He had to. If she was important, they'd find each other. He needed to know. He needed to remember. But it was exhausting, pushing himself.
So he'd wait.
