Rotten Judgement

Chapter 7

Bucky kept you against his chest and pressed his forehead against yours, begging you to wake up. Pierce threw the bloody knife at his feet and the blade stuck to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Steve, Sam and Clint outside the restaurant. The three heroes warily entered the room, their eyes scanning the area.

"I was too late to save her," Pierce said solemnly. "He killed her."

Sam observed Bucky for a moment, searching his face for any sign of guilt. He watched as Bucky's arm wrapped around your torso, his freed hand cupping the side of your face, smearing blood on your cheek.

"He's crying," he said, raising his head to look at Pierce. "What happened?"

"She was trying to protect me and he killed her.".

Sam's posture suddenly stiffened and his brows furrowed. Something felt off. Pierce was too calm, too composed. He opened his mouth to ask more questions when Clint collapsed on the ground next to him.

"What the-"

He turned around and saw two angry-looking girls on the threshold of the restaurant. A red mist swirled around Wanda's fingers before it launched itself at Steve and Sam, sending them to the ground. She used that same red energy to immobilize Pierce. He was no match for an extra angry Fury.

"We gotta go." Nat walked over to Bucky.

"How did you find me?" he asked without looking up.

"We heard you scream," Nat said, squatting next to him so she could look in his eye. "We can't let mortals see this mess."

"I just wanted to protect her." Bucky tightened his hold on you.

"She's gone," Nat said, tilting his chin up so he would look at her. "We gotta go back to the Underworld."

Bucky waited a few seconds before he stood up with you cradled in his arms. His stomach dropped when he noticed how limp you felt in his arm. He took a deep breath and assessed the situation quickly. He ordered the Furies to send Pierce and the others to Tartarus and call the Fates.

You stood in the middle of the antechamber of the Underworld, not knowing how you got there. Pale ghosts wandered aimlessly around you. The ferryman raised his head when he saw someone standing near his boat, his eyes goggling as he belatedly recognized you.

"Scott, I have no idea what I'm doing here. I need to see Bucky, is he in his palace?" you asked, your brows knitted together in perplexity. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Look at your hands."

You brought your hands up, turned your palms upwards and lowered your gaze. Instinctively, you tried to take a step back and cursed out loud. Your skin was transparent, you could see through your hands.

"I'm dead?"

"Looks like it." Scott rubbed the back of his head. "You don't have a coin, do you?"

It felt weird to ask. He had repeated that same dumb joke almost every day for three years, knowing you didn't need a coin to cross the river since you were working for Bucky. Things were different now, if you didn't have a coin, you were destined to live in the antechamber forever.

"No," you said quietly.

"You have to stay here."

"I know."

You stared at each other for a long moment before the soul of an old woman handed him a coin and climbed into the boat.

"I have to go," Scott said apologetically. "I'm so sorry."