Sam is so silly guys I love him.

GUYS BUCKY TWEAKS IN THIS ONE

WHEN SEVEN WOKE UP SHE WAS LAYING
down in a bed. Her body was covered in dust and black char. Her head throbbed, and she struggled to piece together what had happened. An explosion? The last thing she remembered was Natasha's ambush.

She quickly darted her head up, eyes wide as she scanned the room, panic setting in. "Papa! Papa—"

"Slow down, kid," Steve said gently, his voice cutting through her fear. He was sitting nearby, watching her with a mix of concern and curiosity. Natasha stood beside him, her expression equally intense.

Seven's heart pounded in her chest, her breathing quick and shallow. She felt cornered, but she tried to keep her composure. These were dangerous people, and she couldn't show weakness. "Where am I?"

"You're safe," Steve assured her. "We just want to talk."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge their intentions. "Talk about what?"

"Who's that person you were calling for? Who's your papa? What's his name?" Steve asked, his tone gentle but probing. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering.

Seven hesitated, but then she remembered the files she had studied. She knew who this man was, and she knew how to get his attention. "His name is James Barnes."

Steve's expression changed, a mix of shock and disbelief crossing his face. He exchanged a quick glance with Natasha. "James Barnes?"

Seven nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. "Yes. He's my papa."

Steve shook his head, skepticism clear in his eyes. "How do you know that name?"

"Because he's my papa,"

Steve's jaw tightened. "James Barnes is dead. He died in the war."

Seven shook her head vehemently. "No, he's not. He's alive."

Natasha studied Seven carefully, her eyes narrowing. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't," Seven replied, her voice laced with frustration. "But I am. I've been with him for as long as I can remember. HYDRA... they created me. From his DNA."

Steve's eyes widened again, and he looked to Natasha for confirmation. Natasha remained silent, her expression unreadable.

The tension in the room was palpable, and just when it seemed like it would break, the door opened. Sam walked in, carrying a bottle of water. He looked between Steve and Natasha, then to Seven.

"Looks like she's finally awake." Sam said, handing the water to Seven. Seven took it, not knowing if she should or not but she was parched at this point.

"Thanks," Seven muttered, taking a sip. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat.

"We're trying to get some answers," Steve replied, his eyes never leaving Seven. "She says her father is James Barnes."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "James Barnes? The solider who died in World War Two?"

Seven nodded, her grip tightening on the water bottle. "Yes. He's my papa."

Sam glanced at Steve and Natasha, then back at Seven. "That's a pretty wild story, kid."

"It's not a story," Seven insisted. "It's the truth."

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "If what you're saying is true... why are you here? What does HYDRA want with us?"

"They sent me to keep you distracted," Seven admitted. "I don't know what they're planning, but it's something big. I was just supposed to buy them time."

Steve and Natasha exchanged another glance, this one filled with a mix of concern and resolve. They needed to figure out what HYDRA was up to, and fast.

"Alright," Steve said, his tone decisive. "We need to get to the bottom of this. If Bucky is really alive... we need to find him."

"You won't hurt him!" She shouted.

Steve's expression softened, a hint of his old friend shining through his eyes. Those blue eyes. Those were Bucky's blue eyes. "We won't hurt him. We'll save him. And we'll get you out of this, too."

"They have to be looking for me..." Seven said.

BUCKY WAS SLUMPED ON THE WALL
of his cell, every muscle in his body screaming in pain from the relentless torture HYDRA had inflicted on him. The cold, unforgiving concrete bit into his skin, a constant reminder of his captivity. His ears perked up at the familiar, ominous creak of the little window on his door opening, and his heart rate quickened. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing at the sight of the old man standing just outside the cell, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

"Soldat," the old man's voice oozed with condescension, echoing through the small, dimly lit space. "I have some news about Seven."

Bucky's heart clenched painfully at the mention of her name, his pulse pounding in his ears. He scrambled to his feet, moving toward the door with a mix of desperation and fury. "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice raw, barely more than a growl.

The old man's smile widened, cruel and mocking. "She hasn't returned."

Bucky's blood ran cold. He slammed his fists against the door, the sound reverberating through the cell. "What do you mean she hasn't returned? Where is she?" His voice cracked with fear and rage.

"You see, she was never meant to return. We sent her on a mission to keep Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers distracted. But that mission was a death sentence."

Bucky's heart stopped for a moment, then started again in a frantic, painful rhythm. "You're lying," he whispered, though his voice lacked conviction. He backed away from the door, his legs unsteady beneath him.

The old man laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed in the small space. "Why would I lie? We planted explosives in the area. The objective was simple: kill Romanoff, Rogers, and Seven. She was a loose end, Soldat. A tool to be used and discarded."

The words hit Bucky like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of him. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor. "You killed her?" His voice was a broken whisper, filled with disbelief and overwhelming sorrow.

The old man's smile never faltered. "She served her purpose. Now, it's time for you to serve yours. You see, Soldat, you're still useful to us. But she was a liability."

Bucky's mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of grief, anger, and despair. Seven, his daughter, his reason for fighting, was gone. The weight of his failure crushed him, leaving him gasping for air.

"You monster," Bucky hissed, his voice shaking with fury. "She was just a child."

The old man shrugged, unperturbed by Bucky's rage. "A child born of your DNA, yes. But a child nonetheless. We didn't need her. We wipe you and you will do your missions again. She was never going to survive this life, Soldat. It's better this way."

Bucky's vision blurred with tears, his chest heaving with sobs. He had failed her, failed to protect her from the horrors of HYDRA. The thought of her dying alone, believing she was abandoned, tore him apart.

The old man's voice remained calm, almost bored. "Focus on your missions, Soldat. There's nothing left for you now but obedience." With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as the cell door clanged shut.

Bucky was left alone in the oppressive silence of his cell, the weight of the old man's words pressing down on him like a physical burden.

He let out a raw, primal scream, the sound echoing off the walls. His fists pounded the floor, the pain in his knuckles a distant, muted sensation compared to the agony in his heart.

Grief consumed him, a tidal wave of sorrow and despair that threatened to drown him. He clawed at his hair, his fingers digging into his scalp as he rocked back and forth on the cold, hard floor. He screamed again, louder this time, the sound tearing through the silence like a knife.

He staggered to his feet, his vision blurred by tears. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his heart pounding with a mixture of rage and sorrow. He looked around the cell, his eyes landing on a metal stool in the corner. With a guttural roar, he picked it up and hurled it across the room, the sound of it crashing against the wall barely registering in his mind.

He punched the wall, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through his arm. He punched it again and again, the skin on his knuckles splitting open, blood smearing the cold concrete. But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the overwhelming agony in his heart.

He collapsed to the floor, his body trembling with exhaustion and grief. He curled into a ball, clutching his sides as sobs wracked his body. The memories of Seven flooded his mind, each one a dagger to his heart. Her laughter, her stubborn determination, the way she had clung to him in the darkness—all of it was gone.

Bucky stayed there for what felt like hours, his mind replaying every moment he had spent with Seven. He clung to those memories, even as they threatened to break him further. Her smile, her laughter, the way she had looked up at him with those bright, trusting eyes. She had given him a reason to hope, a reason to fight. And now, she was gone.

SEVEN WAS TOLD TO SIT WITH NATASHA now. She liked Natasha, even though she wasn't sure Natasha liked her very much. They were in a car, and Seven watched as they interrogated this man she hardly knew but remembered vaguely from when she was around nine. He told them everything, which Seven found pathetic.

The man was in the car with her now, too. She hated being crammed in between them both.

"HYDRA thinks you're dead, Seven," Sitwell told the girl, who was scooted closer to Natasha than to him. "HYDRA doesn't like leaks."

"Then why don't you try sticking a cork in it?" Sam retorted from the front seat.

"Insight's launching in sixteen hours. We're cutting it a little close here," Natasha cut in, her tone tense.

Steve spoke up next. "I know. We'll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly."

"What? Are you crazy?" Sitwell exclaimed. "That is a terrible, terrible idea!"

Not even a moment after he said that, there was a thud. Then the window was punched, and Sitwell was grabbed and thrown out.

By a metal arm.

Seven's eyes widened, her breath hitching. She knew exactly who this was. "Papa..." she whispered to herself, a mix of fear and longing in her voice.

Natasha grabbed Seven and pulled her close, shielding her as they moved to Steve's lap. Steve tried to maneuver the car, but the attack was relentless.

Bucky was knocked off the windshield, and Seven watched as he got up almost instantly, showing no reaction whatsoever. He wore a mask and goggles, obscuring his face.

Before Seven could process what was happening, another car rammed into them, sending her lurching forward. Natasha held her tight, trying to protect her. Then Bucky was back on top of their car, reaching in and yanking the steering wheel from Sam's grip.

"Shit!" Sam shouted, struggling to regain control.

Natasha reached for a gun and fired at the windshield where Bucky was.

"Stop! You're going to hurt him!" Seven shouted, reaching for the gun.

Natasha didn't let her have it. "He's trying to kill us!" she yelled back.

"He's my papa!" Seven screamed. Steve glanced at her, his face a mix of shock and disbelief, but the moment was cut short as they were rammed again.

Steve grabbed onto Natasha, Sam, and Seven. "Hang on!" he shouted.

The car started to flip, and Seven felt herself being thrown around. Natasha kept a firm grip on her shirt, trying to shield her from the worst of it. Seven wanted to scream, fear gripping her as the world spun around her.

They hit the ground with a violent crash. Sam and Seven were thrown from the vehicle, tumbling across the pavement. Sam made it his goal to grab her, shielding her as they rolled to a stop.

Sam was the first to get up, helping Seven to her feet. "Kid! Are you okay?" he asked urgently.

"Yeah—!" she started to say, but a loud explosion cut her off.

Sam grabbed Seven, holding her close as they ducked behind a car. Gunshots rang out, and Sam continued to shield her, ensuring she stayed down.

"That's my papa!" Seven shouted, her voice barely audible over the chaos.

Sam didn't hear her. He picked her up and started running again, dodging bullets and debris.

He set her down, taking out one of the attackers with a punch, then grabbing the man's gun and kicking him off the bridge. Kneeling down, he checked on Seven again. "You alright?"

She nodded, breathless. "My papa! He's here!"

"Your who?" Sam asked, but before she could answer, he stood back up, firing at the enemies shooting at Steve. "Save that thought, kid!"

The fight was intense, and Seven watched in horror as her papa—the Winter Soldier—continued his relentless assault. He was a force of nature, moving with deadly precision. Steve and Natasha fought back, but Bucky was unstoppable.

Seven's heart ached, torn between fear and the desperate hope that her papa would remember her. She saw Steve and Bucky clash, their strength and skill evenly matched. Steve's shield clashed against Bucky's metal arm, the sound echoing through the chaos.

Natasha joined the fray, using her agility and training to land blows on Bucky. But he was relentless, his attacks swift and brutal. Seven wanted to run to him, to call out to him, but the danger was too great.

Sam kept firing, providing cover for Steve and Natasha. "Stay down, kid!" he shouted to Seven, his focus on the battle.

Seven clutched her head, trying to make sense of everything. Her papa was here, but he was different. He was the Winter Soldier, a weapon of HYDRA. The realization was crushing, but she couldn't give up hope.

Amidst the chaos, Seven saw a moment of hesitation in Bucky. He glanced in her direction, and for a split second, their eyes met. She saw something flicker in his gaze, a flash of recognition. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold, unfeeling soldier.

The fight continued, and Seven's heart raced. She had to do something. She couldn't just sit there and watch her papa fight against her friends. She had to reach him, to remind him of who he was.

Summoning her courage, she darted out from behind the car, running towards the battle. "Papa!" she screamed, her voice cutting through the noise.

Bucky's head snapped towards her, his eyes widening in shock. In that moment, he froze, the Winter Soldier's facade cracking.

"Seven, no!" Natasha yelled, rushing to pull her back to safety.

But it was too late. Seven reached Bucky, her small hands clutching at his arm. "Papa, please! It's me, Seven!"

Bucky stared at her, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked lost, torn between his programming and the faint memories trying to resurface. "Seven..." he whispered, his voice trembling.

Bucky wanted to grab her, take her with. He knew if he did, they'd just kill her. Everyone thought she was dead anyways. She was safe. A rocket was shot at him, making the dad next to him explode.

Seven closed her eyes in reaction. Then when she opened them, he was gone.

"Papa!" She shouted.