Forgotten | Bucky Barnes

Ear-Witness

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Leaning against a wall, I shifted my weight from one of my feet to the other and crossed my arms. Staring at the clock in the hallway, I felt like I had already been waiting here for half a day when in reality I had been standing here for only about 20 minutes.

Tick.

Tick.

I threw another glance at the all too familiar guard, just to find his eyes to be still fixed on me. I let out a long sigh and changed positions again, wishing that the guard would stop watching me. I used to think that boredom made time move by the slowest, but now realized that boredom mixed with the stress of being under constant observation was much worse.

What was taking so long anyways? According to the guard that fetched me, the Wolf should have been back from his mission about 15 minutes ago, yet there were no signs of anyone arriving at the base. What caused this delay? Was it just something like too much traffic or were there complications with the mission? Was someone badly injured? Was the Wolf alright?

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I pushed myself off the wall, started pacing around for a good minute, then stopped again and leaned back on the wall.

Tick.

Tick.

I felt the urge to throw a shoe at the clock.

Instead, I turned to look at the guard, who was still observing me carefully. It was the third time that this specific guard had accompanied me to an appointment with the Wolf, one too many times to be a coincidence.

Doing my best to ignore his stare, I examined him properly for the first time, finding that his face felt vaguely familiar until it suddenly occurred to me that I had treated him once before. I had worked on many different patients while I was with the medics upstairs, too many and too briefly to remember most of them, but this guy I recognized because of his whining over a small scratch and the ominous warning he had given me after I had scolded him.

"I've seen you a few times now, are you specifically assigned to me?" I asked the guard, only mildly curious but with nothing else to pass the time.

The guard looked me up and down, crossing his arms. "Something like that," he responded.

I turned back to the clock with an annoyed sigh at his vague and avoidant answer. I expected the guard to be less gossipy than the medics, but he sure seemed especially suspicious of me.

"What's your name, mister personal guard?" I asked, deciding I'd still rather try to talk to him than stare at the clock again after just a few seconds.

He glared at me, and moved one of his hands down to rest on the pistol at his side. "Igor Miller," he answered.

I frowned. "I am a med student. I haven't been able to do proper sports in weeks. Do I seem threatening to you?" I said, gesturing towards my relatively thin body.

The guard didn't relax his stance one bit. "Physical appearance isn't always a good indicator for skill. And mentally... who knows."

I stared at him, surprised by how serious his answer was when I thought he was simply trying to tell me to shut up. Then I let out a laugh. "I didn't even get to finish med school, yet you think that I might be hiding some sick martial arts skills? Or have some sort of secret master plan? You really think that I could be a threat?"