' ' Perfect Enough To Break ' '

Seconds Too Late

Bucky

Adrenaline was still burning through me — the kind that made every footfall hit too hard, every breath feel too shallow. My eyes scanned the dark, darting from the wet glint of brick walls to the piles of trash bags stacked like silent sentinels. then my eyes caught something

Not her.

Just her dress — the one she'd been wearing when I left her in there — draped over the iron railing like it had been abandoned in a hurry. Below it, fresh tire tracks cut across the damp asphalt, fading into the darkness.

"Fuck," I hissed under my breath, my voice raw. My boots slowed, the echo of my steps suddenly too loud against the stillness. I'd just missed her.

My hand shot out, snatching the dress from the railing. The fabric felt cold, almost weightless, but my grip tightened like I could wring the truth out of it if I held on hard enough.

I cursed again, low and bitter — not just at her, but at myself. Especially at myself.

Years of training. Years of knowing exactly how people moved when they were about to vanish. And still, I didn't see it coming.

I should've known.

I should've known from the way her gaze shifted when Fury laid it all out back at the compound — the subtle calculation behind her eyes, like she was measuring the shape of the cage. This had been her reason all along.

A laugh escaped me — dry, hollow, edged with disbelief.
So this was what HYDRA had been planning.

My grip on the fabric twisted, knuckles whitening.

Footsteps approached from the mouth of the alley — heavy, hurried, too many to count on one hand. I didn't have to turn to know it was the team.

"What happened?" Sam's voice broke through first, tight with worry and confusion.

I turned, grim expression already set, the words scraping out of me like broken glass.

"I got interference on my comms. Pierce." The name came out like poison. "Next thing I know, Sova's gone. And Pierce — that bastard — is in the wind. With her."

It was harsher than it needed to be. Not because of them, but because of me. Because every syllable felt like I was carving the blame into my own skin.

I could feel their eyes on me — each one a different weight.

Steve, silent, his gaze holding a kind of quiet understanding that only made the guilt worse.
Fury, tight-jawed and radiating anger he barely contained.
Natasha, expression flat but her eyes giving away that she knew exactly what this was.
Thor's brows drawn in confusion.
Bruce's gaze flickering, wary.
Sam, already calculating.  And Tony — leaning into his sarcasm like a shield, but not enough to hide his frustration.

"I knew it was a bad idea," Fury growled, stepping forward, the accusation sharp as his glare.

"I didn't know she'd do that," I snapped back, my voice running hot with barely controlled rage.

Steve stepped in, ever the peacekeeper. "Fury, I don't think he—"

"You knew her," Fury cut in, eyes locked on me like he was looking for a crack in my armor. "You were with her for how long? And the best you've got is, 'I didn't know'?"

The words hit harder than they should've. My jaw locked, my fists clenched, but I stayed silent.

"Tony, get the Quinjet ready," Fury barked. "We're flying back."

No one argued. The team filed out.

The trip back was suffocating in its quiet. No one wanted to be the first to speak, and the hum of the Quinjet's engines filled every gap like it was mocking me.

I could feel Steve's gaze from across the cabin, but he didn't say anything — not here. 

When we landed, everyone scattered — to tech, to comms, to Fury's office — trying to track Pierce, to find even a shred of a lead.

I ended up on the couch in the common room, leaning forward with my forearms on my knees. My thoughts kept looping back to the same point — to the second I could've done something different.

If I hadn't stayed to listen to Pierce.
If I'd kept my eyes on her.
If I'd remembered exactly who I was dealing with.

A hand landed on my shoulder. I didn't even hear him walk up.

"You okay, Buck?" Steve voice broke through my thoughts

I let out a short, humorless breath. "No. No, I'm not." My voice cracked with frustration.

"I should've kept my eyes on her. I should've known. I was with her for years, Steve. Fury's right." My hand raked back through my hair — an old habit I never shook when I was frustrated.

"You'd have to be a psychic to know this was coming," Steve said softly. "We'll find her—"

"I know we will," I cut in, sharper than I meant to. "But what if they recondition her? Or worse... what if she doesn't need them to?" My voice dropped. "What if she willingly goes back to what she was?"

Steve didn't answer right away, and I could feel my throat tightening before I spoke again.

"You don't understand. I stayed to listen to Pierce. I walked her right into his hands. And then... I. didn't. do. a. damn. thing."

Steve's expression didn't waver, but his voice was steady.

"Then we do something now. Whatever happened back there — you're not the only one who's carried that weight. I've made my share of mistakes, Buck. The only thing you can do with them is use them. And when we find her — not if, when — you make sure she knows she's not alone. No matter what Pierce told her."