Soul Stealer ~ (A Bucky Barnes Love Story)

Ready or Not, Here I Come

"I'm 100% super soldier.  You understand that, right?"  Bucky was pacing in front of the bed in our hotel room while I tracked his movement.  "One hundred percent, meaning I can take a bullet and survive."

He'd been at it since I woke up, explaining, in detail, the difference in the amount of serum in both our bodies.  I didn't want to poke holes in his theory, but considering he got a bootleg version of the one my father received I wasn't sure he was actually 100% super soldier.  Something like 85% was probably more realistic.  Not that I'd tell him that.  He had an odd fascination with percentages.

I may only be 10% super soldier, but I was already almost healed.  It'd been roughly four days since HYDRA agents stormed the hotel and I ended up shot.  In that time my skin had knitted itself back together and I was well on my way to a full recovery.

"Technically, I also survived."  He sent me a glare so potent I was surprised it didn't peel the paint off the walls.  "But, that's not important right now."

"You have to promise me you won't ever do something like that again."  He sank down on the bed next to me, head in his hands.  He looked absolutely devastated and it broke my heart.  "I'm not worth it."

"Are you saying you wouldn't do the same for me?"

His head snapped up, eyes blazing.  "It's not the same."

"Of course it is."  I smiled at him, scooting closer so I could put my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder.  "Till the end of the line, remember?"

It was more than words.  It was a promise.

He sighed and I tried to ignore how much it sounded like regret.  "Till the end of the line." 

His calloused hand covered mine, and we sat there lost in our thoughts. 

"Do you know how they found us?"  And, he was back to pacing.  He shook his head sharply.  "Maybe it was just luck."

"These guys don't do luck and they don't do random.  Something drew them to us."  His metal arm was whirling as he clenched his fists repeatedly.  "One of the guys at the site was acting strange a few days before, asking odd questions, on his phone all the time.  I didn't think...I got complacent and it almost cost you your life."

"Bucky, you don't know that.  It could have been me.  It could have been you.  It could have been luck.  Let it go."

"We need to get on the road," he replied, refusing to relinquish his guilt.  Blowing out a breath I swung my feet to the ground, probing my back gently.  "How does it feel?"

"Good as new."  That was an exaggeration.  It ached, the new skin pink, tender, and incredibly itchy, but he didn't need to know that.  "Where are we headed?"

"I don't know," he confessed, leaning over a map spread out on a nearby table. 

While he pondered our next steps I collected our meager belongings which fit into two depressingly small backpacks.  I wasn't much for personal possessions, but this was just pathetic.  It took less than five-minutes shove everything we owned into each bag.  When I was finished he was standing in front of me, shoulders tense and eyes hard.

"What?"

He wiggled a his pointer finger, beckoning me closer.  Moving forward cautiously I bit my lip.  He raised his eyebrows, pointing to a spot on the ground directly beside him.  When my thighs bumped against the table I waited expectantly.  He said nothing, simply pointing at the cache of weapons sitting lined up on the small table.

"Pick a gun and a knife," he ordered, crossing his arms over his chest, daring me to disagree with him. 

"This is stupid."