The Seventh Avenger: Memories Never Die// Bucky Barnes

FOURTEEN: THE LOST WAKANDAN

          To say that Doctor S'yan was disappointed, would be an understatement.

          Livid, furious and just downright pissed, would be a more accurate description of the Doctor pacing in front of Riley, Bucky and myself.

          My eyes carefully follow after him as he continues to move back and forth across the length of the cot that Riley and I are sitting on, with the Winter Soldier standing close beside us. The Doctor's worn hands rub up and down on both sides of his face, dark mutters seeping past his lips as he shakes his head from side to side. The sounds are unfamiliar, leading me to believe that he is speaking in Wakandan; a tale-tell sign of his nerves or anger, as Riley has once mentioned to me before.

          None of us bother to interrupt the unsettled Doctor and instead choose to allow him to have time to process everything that we had shared with him so far. The walk back to the infirmary had been in silence, all of us too busy being lost in our own thoughts to attempt to discuss anything. An inkling of foreboding hung above our heads, trapping us in a state of paranoia and unease. We wouldn't dare speak about the acts that we had committed while we were still out in the open, where anyone could happen to stumble upon our small group and overhear what we were saying. Waiting until we were within the safer confines of the infirmary had seemed like a far better option.

          As I continue to watch the pacing doctor in front of us, my left hand trails along the fresh bandage that he had applied only minutes ago. The moment that Bucky had gently placed me down on the cot, Doctor S'yan had grabbed my arm. Thinking that he was simply checking me over, I hadn't protested and allowed him to take my arm with ease and turn it over. I was not expecting the flash of a scalpel and a stinging pain along the length of my right forearm seconds later.

          "Ah!" I had hissed in pain, watching as red blood blossoms from the wound that thankfully hadn't been that deep. Riley had jumped in surprise at the sudden action, and even Bucky's eyes had widened a fraction, his brows arching up in disbelief. I had tried to jerk my arm out of his grip, but he proved too strong for me to do so. "What the hell was that for?"

          "I told Strucker that I found spots of blood on the sheets- I lied," S'yan had informed me, before turning my arm over to allow a few drops of blood to drip from my arm, and land on the pristine, white sheets with a silent splat. Once satisfied that there would be enough evidence to support the lie if Strucker did end up coming to validate his story, S'yan had quickly patched the wound up, while the three of us shared our tale.

          We told him about setting up the fight with Sara. We told him that I had allowed her to beat me on purpose so that I would inevitably be sent to the infirmary. We told him that we had planned it down to the last minute so that we could ensure that he wasn't here when we pulled the fire alarm. We told him how Bucky and I broke into his workshop to steal a screwdriver.

          And S'yan was not impressed.

          "A screwdriver," he now mutters, still running his hands down his stressed face. "A screwdriver. For Bast's sake." He pauses to whirl around to face us, a rich scowl tugging at his lips. "You risked all that- you risked your lives... for a screwdriver?" Without waiting for an answer, he turns his eyes skywards and gives a small shake of his head. "Ancestors, give me the strength not to throttle the three of them where they stand..."

          "Technically, we're sitting," rolls of my tongue before I can stop it. The look I earn from him at this surpasses reproachful, but I can't help but add, "I think that we did alright, all things considering. I mean, we're still alive, aren't we? And they don't know I have it-"