Lost + Found [Bucky Barnes] ✓

Chapter 42

"Chloe..."

I ignore Bucky, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. A million thoughts are running through my head, most of them repeating what I already know.

My fault. It's my fault. It's all my fault.

"Chl--"

His hand lands on my arm, the cool metal causing goosebumps to spread up across my skin, and I jerk away from his touch. My hands are balled into fists in front of my face, my breathing escalated as I press my knuckles against my mouth to prevent a sob from escaping.

I want to cry, scream, tear my hair out at the roots - anything would be better than standing here in this moment. I can feel their eyes on me - Steve, Sam, and Bucky - and I hate it. I hate their pity. I hate that this is happening to me. I hate that I can't cry, I can't dive into Bucky's arms, I can't do anything.

I just have to go. For Mara.

Uncurling my fingers, I press my face into the palms of my hands before wiping away the silent tears falling down my cheeks and opening my eyes.

"I have to leave," I whisper, unwilling to look anyone in the eyes. "Now."

Bucky shakes his head, "No, you don't. We're not doing this again."

"Damn right, we're not," I spit back at him. "You're staying out of it. All of you are staying out of it."

Steve takes a step forward, "Chloe, I know--"

"You do not know," I whirl around to face him, my eyes sparking with rage. "I just found out that my sister killed everyone I worked with and my best friend is next. How the fuck do you know anything about that?"

Tucking the phone back in his pocket, Sam opens his mouth to speak before I turn on him too.

"Save it," I hiss, whirling around to dig through the tiny built-in closet.

My jacket is one of the only items on a hanger, and I pull it out after checking to make sure my passport and wallet are still inside. I don't have any money with me, but my credit card should be enough to get me to an airport that will fly me home.

"You're not going alone," Bucky says, walking toward me.

Steve and Sam follow him, each of them standing between me and an exit. I look up at Bucky, noting the sadness deep within his blue eyes, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to collapse into his arms.

"You can't stop me," I warn them, lifting up my hand in warning. My skin is bare, meaning I'm just one touch away from taking any of them out.

Steve and Bucky hold their ground regardless of my threat, while I notice Sam shuffling his feet nervously by the door to the apartment. If I were to touch his skin, he would doubtless suffer far more than the other two would, meaning he is my best option for getting out of here. He's blocking my way to the balcony, which isn't exactly my ideal exit strategy, but I'm desperate.

Moving toward him in quick strides, I grit my teeth while Sam sends a look of alarm at the other two men.

"Don't do this, Chloe," he says, taking a step back. "You don't have to do this. We just want to help you."

Before I can touch Sam, an arm snakes around my body and holds me tight. The cold metal of Bucky's arm traps my arms beside me, preventing me from connecting with any skin, and I thrash against him.

"Let me go!" I cry out, struggling against him with everything I have. "I can't stay here! I can't--"

Tears pour down my cheeks, my voice cracking as I scream out in rage. Bucky whispers apologies in my ear whilst holding me tight, allowing no room for me to escape, and I begin to sob even more. My whole body shakes, convulsing with every cry that slips through my lips, as I beg for him to let me go.

"Please," I croak through my tears, limp in Bucky's arms. "It's all my fault. It's all my f--"

Words fail me. Bucky lifts his other hand, using it to turn me toward him, and I bury my face in his neck as I cry. Holding me close, one hand cups the back of my neck while the other stays securely around my waist as he whispers words I can't quite hear. I don't notice him nod at Steve and Sam, watching as they leave the room and close the door behind them. All I can think about is the number of people I've killed - both directly and indirectly - and the fact that their blood is on my hands.

"I killed them," I sputter, clutching his shirt. "I killed them."

Bucky shushes me, "No, sweetheart, it's not your fault. You hear me? This is not your fault."

"I can see it, though," I sob, thinking of the two men I killed on the street in DC. "I can see them. It's me....i-it's me. I'm death."

He brings his hand to cup the side of my face, lifting my chin slightly so his blue eyes stare down at me. Even through my tears, I can see the pain etched his features. The sadness and sorrow, along with the weight of his past, bearing down on him. Bearing down on me.

"You're not," he croons. "None of this is your fault, doll. You got that? None. You're wonderful, Chloe. You're beautiful, smart, compassionate, and you sure as hell aren't death."

He presses his lips against mine, the kiss soft and gentle as he holds me close to him. Instead of passion and heat, it's simply comfort and reassurance as our lips meld together. He pulls away rather than deepening the kiss, opting to feather my features with tiny kisses as he wipes away all of my tears. Every brush of his thumb against my face is followed by a kiss until I can cry no longer.

"You're life, Chloe," Bucky whispers, leaning his forehead against mine. "You're my life."