This is going to be a more solemn chapter so prepare yourself! 

Chapter Quote:

“You don't understand. Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Take you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?”

~Clint Barton in The Avengers

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Chapter 9

Annabeth 

After our dinner and drinking contest, Bucky and I became much more comfortable around each other.  He wasn’t so formal with me, he would joke around more, he asked a lot more questions (in particular about Steve), and to me, I believed I was beginning to see the original Bucky Barnes coming out, slowly but surely.  Of course, there were times when I had to remind myself that no matter how much he remembered, Bucky would never be the same guy he was back during World War II; he’d been through and seen too much.  This would be especially true if he retrieved his memories of his missions as the Winter Soldier.  I worried about what would happen if he found those videos… I had them on my computer, security videos that happened to catch him.  I’m not saying all his missions were caught on video, but some were, including his attack on Steve, Sam, and Natasha.  I hadn’t told him about them.  If he wanted to know about his time as the Winter Soldier, he would ask.  I wasn’t going to bring it up.  Was it the right thing to do?  To keep it from him?  I didn’t know for sure, but knowing how he reacted to Steve telling him he was Bucky Barnes, I honestly worried about his reaction to finding out his actions as the Winter Soldier.

I was currently putting my hair up in a ponytail because I’d been getting sick of my hair getting in my face every time I looked down when Bucky called for me.  His voice sounded… off.  I headed into the kitchen.  He was sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at me laptop.

“What are these?” he demanded, turning the computer around.  I glanced at it, feeling my heart practically stop.

“How did you find those?” I asked, staring at the image of the article on Howard Stark’s death.  Bucky had found them.  The files on his Winter Soldier missions.  This was not good.

“I clicked on the wrong file.”

Sitting down, I asked, “Are you going to watch the videos?”

He nodded. “Unless you’re going to stop me.”

“You and I both know I wouldn’t control you like that.”

He glared at me before turning back to the computer.  Bucky clicked on a video.  It was of Howard Stark’s “car crash.”  Except for the flaring of his nostrils, he showed no emotion.  The next video was of him killing a nuclear scientist who was being escorted by Natasha Romanoff.  The Winter Soldier shot right through her to kill the scientist, and succeeded.  Bucky still remained emotionless.  He watched a few more, ones I’d only briefly read about.  He somehow managed to avoid clicking on what I considered the worst one for him to watch until the end: him fighting Steve for the first time.

When Bucky realized what video it was, his eyes almost appeared desperate.  He hastily hit the play button and watched the montage of clips.  The first to show was him standing in the middle of the street, waiting for Nick Fury’s car to approach.  The Winter Soldier fired a device which hooked onto the vehicle, effectively partially blowing it up and causing it to flip onto its roof.  As the Winter Soldier, Bucky simply stepped aside as the car skidded past him.  The next video was of him jumping onto Sam Wilson’s car as he was driving with Jasper Sitwell, Natasha Romanoff, and Steve Rogers.  Bucky threw Sitwell out of the car and ripped the steering wheel out of Sam’s grasp (now I understood Sam’s comment to Bucky when we were at the Smithsonian).  The Winter Soldier jumped back onto the truck chasing Sam’s car.  Now Bucky’s face began to change from emotionless to regret, and his breathing was getting heavier.  But when he glanced over at me, he tried to hide his reactions.  That didn’t last long when the video showed him stalking Romanoff with an M-203 when Steve leapt over a car to knock the weapon out of Bucky’s hands.  Bucky rested his chin on his fist, partially covering his mouth in attempt to not react to what he was watching.  But when the end of the security video showed him attacking Steve with a knife, trying to punch Steve with his metal arm with Steve barely blocking the hit with his shield, and finally, Bucky trying to cut Steve up with a knife and managing to punch him instead, the expression on my comrade’s face was one of pure mortification.  He covered his mouth in his shock, his eyes remorseful.

All I could do was watch.

Nothing I could say would make him feel any better, and I knew he didn’t want me to say anything.  I’d kept this from him, and he was extremely upset with me because of that.  Bucky watched that specific video footage over ten times before he shoved his chair back and stalked out of the kitchen.  I didn’t go after him, even though my body screamed for me to.  He wanted time alone, I could tell, and I respected that.

Instead, I shut off my laptop, grabbed my iPod, and went downstairs to the basement.  Bucky had failed to mention earlier that the house had a training area.  It wasn’t all that big, but it was spacious enough to have a good practice fight and an area to practice archery, shooting, and knife throwing.  I particularly liked the knife throwing.  It was the most difficult and made me focus, causing me to forget everything else bothering me, which right now was the guilt I possessed for keeping those videos from an amnesiac ex-assassin who hated me for it at the moment.

I wasn’t phenomenal at the knife-throwing, but at least I could hit the target, although it was usually on the edges.  I was jamming to my music as I threw each knife.  I started out with small knives, then moved onto medium sized ones, and then to big ones.  When the target was full, I’d yank them out and repeat the process.  It was good way to get my frustration out even if I did suck at it.

I checked the time on my iPod periodically.  Fifteen minutes passed.  Then forty.  Then an hour.  Then two.  Then three.  I didn’t know whether Bucky had come back or not, but figured if he wanted to speak to me, he’d come find me.  Pretty sure I wasn’t at the top of his list of people he wanted to talk to.

He’d left at noon, and it was now three thirty.  I hadn’t heard a door open, I hadn’t even heard footsteps, but I felt a presence behind me.  It made the hair on my neck stand up.  I whirled around and shucked the knife at the figure behind me.  They easily dodged out of the way, but that was because my aim was way off anyways.   I grabbed another knife and turned back around.  The person grabbed my wrist, leaning back from my murderous glare.

“I’m sorry,” the person said.

I let out a relieved, possibly also annoyed, sigh. “Jesus, Bucky.  You scared the absolute crap out of me.  How long have you been there?”

“I noticed, and about ten minutes.  Sorry about that…” he apologized, releasing my wrist and shoving his hands in his pockets.  I lowered my hand and asked, “Where’d you go?”

“A walk in the woods.  I needed to think.  The videos… I understand why you didn’t tell me about them, and I’m sorry for snapping at you for it.  I realize you were doing what you thought best for me, like you always have.”

“You’re my mission Bucky.  I’m sticking with it until the end, no matter what happens.”

“Why are you helping me Annabeth?  What makes me so special?” he queried, leaning against the table with the knives.

“I don’t know,” I said, turning around and throwing the knife at the target.  As always, it hit the outside ring. “Why are you letting me help you?”

He smiled and got up.  Bucky stood behind me.  Taking my right hand in his, he said, “Put your left foot forward.” I looked at him from the corner of my eye, fully aware of how close he was to me, of how I could feel his heartbeat against my back.  I tried to keep my own heart under control as I did he said. “Good.  Now, since you’re a beginner at this, stretch your left arm forward to help you aim.  Okay, bend your right arm back; release the knife once your arm is fully extended.”

He kept a feather-light grasp on my wrist as I did what he said.  I bent my arm back before extending it in front of me, releasing the knife at the recommended time.  The knife struck the target just a little off center.  I stared in shock that I’d actually done it though.

“I knew you could do it,” he said, smirking at me.  I grinned.  Grabbing another knife, I did it again, trying to hit the target dead center.  It didn’t happen, but I was still close.

“Just keep practicing.  You’ll get it,” Bucky encouraged.

“I wouldn’t even be able to get it like this if you hadn’t helped me.”

“The least I could do after all you’re doing for me.”

I turned to face him. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“But I want to,” he said.

I paused for a minute before turning around and saying, “Would you teach me how to fight?”

“To fight?”

“Yes.  I’m sick and tired of not knowing how to defend myself properly.  Sure I can hit; I can punch and kick hard.  But what’s the point when I don’t know real maneuvers if my opponent does?”

“I can do that,” Bucky said. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ve never hurt me before; I trust you.”

Bucky took off his jacket, throwing it on the table before meeting me in the center of the arena. “Then if you trust me, I trust myself too.  Let’s get started.”

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There’s more to come, I promise!  Hope you enjoyed!  Please review :)