Oh Suzannah, Don't You Cry For Me

Chapter Thirty-Nine:

He tripped over himself when he tried to cringe away from her. He slid down the wall and landed hard on the floor.

"Bucky, please!" Suzie pleaded. Why was he scared of her? He shouldn't be scared of his own sister. "It's me: Suzie! Your sister."

Bucky shook his head and tried to scoot away but it didn't work well with unsteady legs and only one arm. His back hit another wall, and he shook his head, eyes wide and unfocused. The black pupils nearly overtook the steel-blue irises. Drugged. The drugs must've made him too loopy to recognize Suzie. It had to be that, right? Right?

It would take some delicacy to reason with his drug-addled mind. Suzie crouched down into a squat to make herself appear less threatening. She kept her hands up and moved slowly to not startle him.

Oddly, it reminded her of befriending a stray cat—gentle hands, slow movements, a quiet voice, and lots of patience usually worked wonders when dealing with a frightened animal. If she didn't care about scratches or bites, she could easily pick up an injured cat to move it to safety. Though Bucky had lost weight, Suzie doubted she could carry him out of the building while facing armed soldiers.

"You remember me, don't you?" Suzie asked.

He shook his head.

Frustration started to build at his inability to recognize her. She knew it would take time—time they didn't have. Someone would find them soon, so they couldn't stay around to wait much longer. From Bucky's body language and him wandering around the base alone, he probably didn't want to be here any more than she did.

A horrid realization popped into her head. Were the Russians protecting him? Why would they want Bucky? Why didn't they tell anyone about him? How the hell did he survive?

The questions would have to wait for later. Right now, she needed to find a way to get Bucky back to Richard. The 358th's camp, if they ever managed to find it again, would get him much-needed medical treatment.

Deciding not to waste time getting him to recognize her, Suzie switched topics and pointed at the stump of his left arm. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The question seemed to confuse him even further. He looked down as if seeing it for the first time, his mouth agape as he moved it to examine his amputated limb. Eyebrows narrowing in bewilderment, he kept staring at it too long for Suzie's comfort. He should have known he had lost a limb. It had to have been the drugs again.

Impatient, she touched his right shoulder to persuade him to refocus. It had been gentle, barely anything other than the tips of her fingers, but he reacted as if she had punched him. Kicking out his feet to backpedal away, he hit his head and reopened his abdomen wound in the process. While crawling backward, he shook his head rapidly and repeatedly slurred 'no's between rasping breaths.

Suzie gave him some space to let the panic fizzle out before speaking again. Guilt welled in her chest at the sight of her once strong and happy-go-lucky brother cowering from a single touch in the corner of the hallway.

What the hell happened to him?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm here to help." Suzie raised her hands again, this time palms up. She extended her hand slowly and let it hover in the air halfway between them. It had worked before with stray cats—let him be the one to close the distance, to control who touches him.

Ignoring the warning to be on high alert for enemy soldiers, Suzie waited for Bucky to make the first move. Tentatively, once his breathing slowed to a less panicked rate and he stopped mumbling 'no' over and over, he reached out his hand, his fingers brushing against hers. Suzie rotated her hand to point her fingers toward the ceiling, letting Bucky slide his fingers between hers and give it a gentle squeeze.