' ' Perfect Enough To Break ' '

A Rescue Mission and Hurtful Words

Bucky

We'd been tracking the HYDRA base for weeks. Sleepless nights poured over intercepted transmissions, encrypted logistics, and SHIELD intel barely hanging together with duct tape and stubborn hope. I knew she was in one of those cells. Deep down, I felt it. And I wasn't going to let them keep her.

We struck at dawn.

The Quinjet trembled as we hovered just above their radar's edge. Steve barked orders from the front, Natasha already halfway out the hatch. Explosions lit up the mountain as we breached the outer perimeter—precision bombs laced along the power grid. The base flickered like a dying beast.

"Go in quiet," Fury had said. But HYDRA never let anything stay quiet for long.

By the time we reached the lower levels, it was chaos. Smoke, gunfire, screams bouncing off the metal walls. I moved like muscle memory—knife to the neck, disarm the guard, two to the chest. I barely felt it anymore. 

We hit cell block C. The reinforced doors looked untouched. She had to be inside. "Blow it," I ordered.

The charge sent a shockwave down the corridor. The metal door screeched and crumpled inward, revealing her.

Sova.

She was slumped in the corner of the room, a shadow of the girl I remembered. Pale. Eyes sunken. Dried blood at her lip. The light above her flickered dim and cruel. I crossed the room in seconds, kneeling beside her.

"Sova," I whispered, lifting her gently.

She didn't respond, too far gone. She weighed less than I remembered—too little food, too much damage. Her body went limp in my arms.

We got her out fast.

In the evac transport, I kept a hand on her shoulder. She trembled like a leaf even in unconsciousness. I listened to her soft, uneven breathing as we pulled away from that nightmare of a place, every second stretching out with unbearable quiet.

When we reached the compound, they cuffed her to the bed. Protocol, they said. She was still HYDRA-trained. Still dangerous. But watching her strapped there, IV in her arm, I hated the way we handled it.

I walked into the room after they stabilized her. The second the door closed behind me, I felt everything hit at once—relief, fury, guilt.

Her eyes cracked open as I entered.

"Can you get these things off me?" she said, her voice raw and tired, eyes flicking to the cuffs like they personally betrayed her.

I froze. For a moment, I almost did.

"We can't take any chances, Sova," I said, even though it stung to say it. "We need to be sure you're not going to try anything."

She scoffed. "C'mon, you know me, Buck."

I hesitated at the sound of it—'Buck'. Like old times. Like nothing had changed. But everything had.

"Yeah, I thought I knew you too," I replied. "But people change. And you've been with HYDRA for years."

She glared at me, that fire still in her even now. "They wanted to kill you, Buck. They wanted me to kill you."

Her words were a knife. I braced for it.

"And you wouldn't have?" I asked. I hadn't meant for it to sound so bitter. But maybe part of me still didn't know the answer. maybe I still blamed her for things.

"Of course not," she snapped. "You believe that bullshit? Then maybe you never really did know me at all."

I took a step forward, something twisting in my chest. I wanted to trust her. Damn it, it was the only thing I wanted.

"Then prove it," I said. "Prove you're not just another brainwashed HYDRA puppet. Prove I can still trust you. Because right now? That's looking damn difficult."

She rolled her eyes, biting sarcasm rising like a reflex, or rather a defense mechanism logged deep within her. "What am I supposed to do to prove it? Pleasee, show me, oh mighty Avenger." Her voice was venom, and I felt my blood heat.

"Don't start with the smartass attitude, Sova," I growled. "You're not exactly the one in control here."

She sat up slightly, yanking the cuffs just to hear the metal clink. "Yeah? And you are? You think these SHIELD labs make you any less of what you used to be? Weren't you a HYDRA experiment too, Winter?" She spat the name like a curse. "Last I checked, we were down in that fucking shithole together before you left."

That hit harder than I wanted it to.

My jaw clenched. "Watch your mouth, Lancaster," I said, my voice low. "I'm nobody's experiment anymore. And I sure as hell am not like you."

Her breath shakes, fists clenched against the restraints. "A monster like me?" she spits, her voice cracking somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak. "Is that what you think I am?"

I flinch, but she doesn't stop.

"I was trained to be one. I didn't ask for it. I didn't want this," she says, eyes burning, her voice rising with every word. "But you—" her throat tightens. "You look at me like I chose it. Like I liked it."

"You stayed," I snap. The words are out before I can stop them. I feel the heat behind them. "You fucking stayed, Sova."

She recoils like I hit her.

But I don't stop.

"You watched what they did to us—what they turned us into—and you still stayed behind. Don't tell me you didn't make a choice."

She stares at me, breathing hard, eyes wide. Wounded. Enraged.

And when I see that look—that ache—something inside me breaks wide open.

"Maybe you did make the right call," I bite out, my voice rising, sharp, bitter. "You always did have a talent for making the worst goddamn choice. Every. Fucking. Time."

Silence.

Crushing, brutal silence.

Her mouth parts like she's going to say something—deny it, scream at me, anything—but nothing comes out.

We both know what we said can't be taken back.

And the worst part?

Some part of it—some part—we both meant and though we both choose to ignore it it's still there.