The morning sunrise lights up the room, the sky outside the nearby window painted in hues of orange and bright gold.The more surprising fact is that, at some point, Bucky and I found each other in the night. My pillow is discarded; my head now rests on his firm bicep, my face tucked safely against his chest, my hands clutching his T-shirt. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me in place, our legs laced together. I've never felt safer than in this moment. My reasoning says to get up and get us moving so we can get where we need to be, but my heart beats in sync with his, holding me here, in this little pocket of calm.
I feel the rise and fall of his chest, breathing in his calming scent, his breath tickling my ear. I manage to glance up and see Mira still asleep on the couch, her plushie firm in her arms. Her brown hair is strewn about. I definitely need to brush it when she wakes up, I can see the knots from here. I chuckle quietly to myself.
Bucky groans, his chest vibrating as he rolls onto his back, pulling me along with him. I now find myself on top of him, my legs nearly straddling his waist, my cheek resting on his shoulder. His arms wrap around me, holding me tight, as if I'd slip away if he loosened his grip.
I can't blame him though. I basically did, went out the window in the middle of the night like a damn cat burglar.I take in a deep breath, the warm, woody scent of his shampoo filling my nose, before my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall, the creaking of the hardwood growing closer.
I wiggle a little, trying to get free of Bucky. Somehow, he doesn't stir, his grip only tightens. Thankfully, the steps sound too heavy to be a child's, but still, I'd rather not be caught like this.The footsteps stop at the entryway to the living room. I manage to peek over my shoulder and see Sam standing there, a sarcastic grin on his face. He remains silent and walks off without a word.
Losing my patience, I pinch Bucky in the ribs. His muscles tense, and his hand quickly catches mine to stop me. When he looks at me, I'm greeted by a cranky, half-asleep Bucky.
"Good morning," I tease as he releases me.
He relaxes back, wiping a hand down his face. "Good morning," he mutters.
With that, I'm finally up and free to move around, and I find myself longing for a morning run. I used to run when I was younger and picked the habit back up a few years ago. It's quite literally the only thing that calms me, aside from murder.
I change into some leggings and a sports bra from my backpack. I'll admit, while I hate a lot of things about this generation, I love the concept of leggings. They're comfortable, a little exposing, sure, but a fair trade for how flexible I am in them.
Once I'm dressed, I let Bucky know I'll be back. I'm met with a skeptical look."I'm leaving my backpack here. I'll be back," I reply, heading out the door.
As I step off the porch, I see Sam stretching in the grass. Guess that's where he went, morning exercise.He glances over his shoulder. "Morning run?"I nod."Come on, then," he says, taking off down a dirt path through the trees.
It takes me a moment before I follow, but I don't know the area, so it's probably a good idea to run with him. In no time, I've caught up and slowed my pace to match his. I haven't run with someone else in a long time, and I forgot how slow regular people run. Honestly, holding back this much is killing me inside.
As if reading my mind, he asks, "Are you running my pace, or are you just slower than other super soldiers?"I avoid his gaze, unsure how to answer. Either I hurt his feelings or I lie. Silence seems like the best policy.
He chuckles and keeps running. After the fourth mile, I notice his pace slowing again. This time, I don't slow for him, keeping a few feet ahead. By the sixth mile, he's gasping, and we're already heading back to the house along the same route. He's dripping with sweat, and while the heat's bothering me, I'm barely breaking one.
We stay silent for most of the run, which surprises me, considering how much Bucky's vented about how chatty and annoying Sam can be. Guess that's not a side he wants to show me. Despite what these two morons say, they're definitely friends now.
About half a mile out, Sam slows to a walk."Cool-down time," he huffs.
I shrug and walk with him. Not that I really need a cool-down, but I have a feeling Sam's trying to get a read on me.
"You two have a kid." he says.
"Was that a question? Because you've met her," I reply, unsure what he means.
"Nah. Just, trying to wrap my head around it."
I nod silently, letting him mull it over.
"So… what now?" he asks.
"Not sure. Just going to figure it out, I guess."
Our conversation ends there. As we walk back up to the house, he tells me to head in, he's going to train with the shield. Fine by me. I have no desire to stand in awkward silence any longer.
When I walk inside, I see Bucky and Mira sitting at the dining table. Bucky has a thick file in his hands while Mira eats cereal beside him. His gaze lifts to me as I enter.
"What's that?"
"My Hydra file," he replies. "I took it before you flipped the desk, yours too." He slides mine across the table toward me.
I'd already skimmed through it back at the facility, didn't see anything new. Just got to relive memories I hated. I toss it back on the table, feeling defeated.
"Were you held in Austria with me?" he asks.
"You were never in Austria," I retort, opening the fridge for a water bottle.
"According to this, I was. Says I was taken there for my arm to be fitted and placed."
That draws my attention. We both pause, staring at each other, trying to recall anything from the worst time of our lives. I rush over and read the file over his shoulder, and to my surprise, it does say he was transported to Austria after emergency surgery to stabilize him, where his arm was fitted before being put into cryo.
"I don't remember. I was unconscious when they first took me, and I never saw the outside. I never really thought about where we were, I guess. Doesn't matter now, I suppose," I reply.
"Can I read yours?" he asks. "If you don't want me to, it's okay."
I lift myself onto the counter, drinking from my water. "Go ahead. I don't care."
We sit there in silence. The only sounds are Mira chewing, the flip of file pages as Bucky reads, and the thunk of the shield hitting trees outside.
"I thought only your serum was exposed to the Tesseract?" he asks after several minutes.
"Not all of my serum, but yeah, some of it."
"This file says Zola did heavy exposure to try to activate the serum."
My mind flashes back to all the horrible torture I endured for his sick experiments, when I was nothing more than an innocent woman. Not that anyone deserves what he did to me.
Both our eyes shift toward the door as Sam walks in, dripping with sweat and panting like he might die. He grabs a water from the fridge."Where's Sarah?" he asks.
"Dock," Bucky answers, turning back to the papers.
"Vivian, come read this," he calls. Still weird to hear someone use my name, everyone in Madripoor called me boss, queen, or bitch.
I hop off the counter and pull over a chair to sit beside him. Sam takes the last seat across from Mira, who's finished eating but is too absorbed in her cartoons to care.
I start reading the page Bucky has open, just seeing the recount of what I endured makes my stomach twist. But he's right. I only skimmed before, so I missed it. It says I was exposed to the cube's high levels of radiation to draw power from it and strengthen the serum's activation. They believed that's why I survived when others didn't, none of them were exposed as much as I was.
Apparently, I was exposed to the cube for several hours a day before my "treatment" was considered successful. I have no recollection of it, which means I was unconscious, or something.
"If you were exposed to the Tesseract that much, you might not be a super soldier yourself," Bucky says. "You might be more like Wanda."
Sam raises an eyebrow.
"I know of Wanda, but her powers are like magic, aren't they?" I ask.
"Yes and no," Sam replies. "Wanda was experimented on and got her powers from the Mind Stone, the one in Vision's head."
"I'm sorry, but are we seriously saying I could be a witch and not know it?"
"You could just be drawing your power from a different stone and have a different result," Sam says. "If that's the case, it explains her." He gestures toward Mira.
All eyes shift to the small, unfazed child, her ash-brown hair so long it hides her expression like a curtain.
"So what, I'm drawing power from a stone that no longer exists?" I ask.
Sam shrugs. "Didn't seem to affect Wanda's powers."
If this insane theory is right, then I might have more powers, and so might Mira. She's already shown a few things I can't do. Or maybe I can and just haven't learned how.
God damn it. We went looking for answers at Hydra, and maybe we got a few, but now we have even more questions that need answering.
This shit just got more complicated.
"Fuck," I mutter, slamming my head down on the table.
"Language!" Sam and Bucky say in unison.
Letting out a deep sigh, I fight the urge to hit them both.