Lost + Found [Bucky Barnes] ✓

Chapter 16

The dust settles in the room once it's all over, and I let my head rest on the floor for a moment. It's hard to breath, so I try to push the dead woman off of me. Bucky helps, rolling her body to the side, and I gasp as delicious oxygen fills my lungs.

He reaches a hand out to me, his forearm still decorated with the marred black imprint of my handprint, and I stare up at him in disbelief.

How is he not flinching away from me? I can't help but wonder. I just killed someone just by touching her, and now he's offering me his hand?

"Chloe," his voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm?" I ask, staring up at him.

His hand is still stretched toward me. I shake my head, ignoring his help, and push myself upright. I'm a little dizzy, so I take a moment to catch my bearings before I even attempt to stand.

"Are you alright?" T'Challa asks both of us as he steps around the bodies sprinkling the ground. He looks a little worse for wear, but he seems completely unscathed aside from a small gash on his forehead.

Footsteps come thundering down the corridor toward us, and Bucky withdraws his hand to clench it tightly into a powerful fist. T'Challa takes a step toward the side of the room, preparing to launch himself at the next person who walks through the door, while I scramble to my feet. Bucky positions himself in front of me once more, and I'm not exactly ready to complain. Round one was bad enough, I don't think I can handle round two.

"Did I miss anything?" Steve's voice rings out as he bursts in, skidding to a halt to take in the carnage of the room.

His blue eyes are wide, and he's covered in dirt and blood - none of which appears to be his own. With his shield strapped to his arm, his grey t-shirt and jacket have definitely seen better days. I'm guessing he also received a visit from whoever these guys are, and I'm glad he made it out okay.

That's when his gaze lands on Bucky. The range of emotions rippling across his face is unlike anything I've ever seen - a mixture of fear, happiness, relief, and nostalgia - as he takes in the sight of his best friend. Bucky's shoulders relax ever-so-slightly, and he exhales forcibly before allowing his fist to unclench.

"Always late to the party, punk," he says to Steve.

I didn't expect the playful tone that colors his voice, and I don't think Steve did either. He takes a moment before a grin explodes across his features.

"It's good to see you again, Buck," Steve replies, stepping forward to clap Bucky on the back. "Awake, that is."

Bucky gives him a tight-lipped smile, his expression still guarded.

"How long has it been?" He asks. "I take it you guys haven't figured out--"

"No," Steve interrupts, looking a little crestfallen. "It's only been just over a month."

I wrap my arms around myself, taking a step toward T'Challa to leave them alone before Bucky's blue eyes flicker toward me.

"Right," Steve follows Bucky's gaze. "This is Chloe."

Bucky stares at me a moment longer before turning back to his best friend, "I know. We've met before."

My eyes grow wide, and Steve's jaw drops open. The room feels a bit cooler, suddenly, and I can feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I sincerely hope he couldn't hear me while I was talking to him when he was frozen, because that is just way beyond what I am comfortable with. Not only is it supremely weird, considering he was a human icicle who was contained in an air-tight cylinder, I don't want to even imagine that he heard all of the things I admitted to him. Thankfully, my skin is dark enough that they probably can't see the flush that is burning through my cheeks right now.

"She was in D.C.," Bucky explains. "With Natasha. I remember her helping after I..."

His voice trails, and I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. I'm tempted to still ask him if he could hear me while he was under ice, but honestly...I don't want to know. If he's not saying anything about it, I am definitely not going to bring it up. No thank you. Plus, that might explain why he remembers my face, but it sure as hell doesn't address how he knows my name.

Steve seems satisfied with that answer, and he turns to T'Challa to begin asking him about the unconscious men scattered on the floor. It's clear that Wakanda isn't a safe place for Bucky right now - or for me - and I tune them out as they begin to talk about what should happen next.

Bucky appears to do the same, running a hand over the black cap stretched over the remnants of his metal arm, whilst staring at the ground. I frown at my handprint on his forearm, and he gives me a sheepish grin as if he knew I was staring.

"It doesn't hurt," he reassures me, and suddenly my cheeks are on fire again. "How long have you been able to do that?"

"Two weeks," I reply with a sigh.

"Really?" He looks surprised.

I can't help but shrug, "It's been a long two weeks."