Checkmate (BuckyBarnes x OC)

Now We Live

"Come on, Katrina, you've done this before."

"Yeah, but last time it ended with me learning one of my birthgivers works for the organisation that turned me into a cyborg assassin."

Bucky glared and gave me a light push towards the front door. We were standing on my mother's porch of the house in the outskirts of the city. We arrived to the city around midnight, spent the night in a dumpster alley (we knew no one would look for us or be suspicious of us there) and rather quickly dug up the address of my mother. My memory of her was still well preserved because she imprinted in my brain as something good, which felt nice for a change.

It was pure luck finding her actually, I ran into her when I went to the store in the morning to pick up two sandwiches for me and Bucky to eat for breakfast.  She didn't recognize me, but I knew that it was her and so I followed her back home, where she was luckily headed in that time. I knew we didn't have time to lose, so I woke up Bucky and here we were, almost an hour later, standing in front of her house, while I hesitated to knock on her door to talk to her properly.

I stumbled before the door awkwardly. If we had more luck, Vadim and Aida were probably already here, waiting for us to appear. But if they weren't we'd be put in a very uncomfortable situation of explaining what happened to us. That is, if my mother would even recognize me. I should probably stop thinking in this miserable way.

I took a deep breath and straightened my back. I can do this. I can do this. I raised my arm and my knuckles hovered inches over the wooden surface of the door. And they stayed there.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Bucky facepalmed and reached his arm over my shoulder before knocking on the door himself. I stared at him angrily, but had no time to argue with him, for the door crieked open faster than expected. I saw half of a woman's face on the other side, she was hiding behind the crack of the barely open door.

"Who is it?" I heard a mature feminine voice, which no doubt belonged to someone related to me, because it was similar to mine.

"Is this the house of Yulia Kasparova?" I asked carefully, ready for any reaction from the person answering me. I felt Bucky tensed when I set the question.

The woman studied us for a few seconds and before I knew what was going on, a pale hand reached out, grabbed my upper arm and pulled me in the house so I stumbled in the hallway on the other side. I heard Bucky stumble in the same way right behind me, his movement followed by a slam of the door. The woman locked the door twice before turning to face us.

"How do you know about Garry, who-" she stopped mid sentence. I was confused as to why she'd stop, but not even a moment after she already threw her hands around my shoulders and pressed herself tight to my torso. I heard her sobbing lightly.

"I can't believe it's you! Oh, my sweet, sweet daughter, I thought I'd never see you again!" she cried. Judging by her words, me and Bucky knew we were in the right house and she wasn't just some paranoid person for dragging us in her house like she did. Well, she probably was paranoid, but she had a reason to be.

I glanced at Bucky, unsure of what to do next, but he only gave me a small nod, which indicated that I was allowed to trust her. I slowly wrapped my arms around her upper body and leaned my head on her shoulder. I felt a warm feeling tingling in my chest. After I relaxed I was able to smell the sweet scent of her soft honey hair and feel her soft skin of her hands caress my neck and hair. I smiled and it was one of a few rare times when I truly couldn't stop the reflex. "Yes, mom, it's me." I whispered and I let out a small sob to match hers.

She backed away, her hands resting on my shoulders, and looked at me. She was smiling as well and her face was soaked with salty tears. I refused to believe I could make such an impact on a person's life, even if this person was my mother who gave me life. Yulia set her hand on the side of my head while she eyed me up and down. "Look at you! You're such a beautiful woman, Katrina." My mother's compliment meant more than you can imagine. It was a completely different feeling than meeting Garry, even if he faked his happiness rather well.