Why is zemo kinda... (kidding I dislike him strongly)
I can't believe we're on chapter twenty-eight already like this is crazy.

SEVEN WAS BEGINNING TO THING THAT
this agent Ross man, had way too much trust in her. Especially when he un-cuffed her. The second he left, she would be escaping from this stupid office. She glared at him as he walked away, her mind already racing with plans for her escape.

When Ross finally did leave, it was obvious he didn't know what to do with her. He wanted to observe the live feed of Bucky, maybe to understand more. But he also didn't want to leave Sev in his office alone, not trusting her completely.

So, after much hesitation, he walked her down to where Steve and Sam were being held. Despite the numerous times he had initially refused her request, he relented, figuring it was better than leaving her unattended.

As they approached the glass room where Steve and Sam were confined, Seven's heart pounded. She knew who they were, of course, and she had seen them before, but this situation was different. They were also technically criminals, and she didn't know how to feel about that.

Ross opened the door and motioned for Seven to enter. "Stay here," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll be back shortly."

Seven stepped into the room, her eyes immediately drawn to Steve and Sam. They were sitting on opposite sides of the room, looking as if they had been in the middle of a conversation.

Agent Ross walked Sev down the stark, fluorescent-lit corridors of the holding facility, her steps echoing alongside his. He had finally relented to her incessant pleas, though not without some hesitation. As they approached the glass-walled room where Steve and Sam were being held, Sev couldn't shake the mixture of relief and anger bubbling within her.

The room was just as sterile and unwelcoming as the rest of the facility. Steve and Sam looked up as Ross led Sev inside. Their expressions shifted from concern to a mixture of relief and curiosity.

"Sev," Steve said gently, trying to gauge her state of mind. "How are you holding up?"

Sev crossed her arms, her face set in a scowl. "I'm fine," she snapped, clearly anything but. She glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact with either man.

She acted as if she wasn't just begging for them.

Sam stepped forward, his voice soft and calm. "It's good to see you, Sev. We've been worried."

"Well, you don't need to worry about me," she retorted, her tone sharp. "Worry about yourselves."

Steve and Sam exchanged a look, understanding the defensive front Sev was putting up. They didn't push her, recognizing that she needed time and space.

"Lucky Seven," Sam said gently, his voice trying to sound comforting. "We just want to make sure you're okay, this stuff is scary."

"Why do you care?" Seven snapped back, crossing her arms and glaring at him. She didn't trust any of them. They were supposed to be heroes, but here they were, locked up just like her papa.

Steve sighed, standing up and walking over to her. "We're just trying to help, kid. You don't have to be alone in this."

"I'm not alone," she retorted. "I have my papa."

Steve exchanged a glance with Sam before speaking again. "Your dad... Bucky... he's in a difficult situation right now. I've known him for a very long time, he would want me to make sure you're alright."

Agent Carter, show a spectating nearby turned on the live feed of her papa. Seven's eyes darted to the live feed, confined in a small cell. Anger boiled inside her. "This isn't fair. He didn't do anything wrong. And you two are supposed to be heroes. Why aren't you helping him?"

Sharon started. "He's in there because—"

Steve held his hand up to stop Sharon from talking, he knew that would only make things worse. "We want to help him, but we're in a bit of a bind ourselves. They consider us criminals too. We're stuck just like he is."

"That's no excuse!" Seven shouted, her voice trembling with frustration. "He's your friend, and he needs you!"

Steve's face softened, and he knelt down to her level. "We know, and we're doing everything we can to fix this. But we need to be smart about it. If we make a wrong move, it could get a lot worse for all of us, including your dad."

Seven's eyes welled up with tears, and she looked away, unable to bear the sight of her papa in such a state. "I just want him back," she whispered.

"We get it, Lucky," Sam said quietly. "And we're going to do everything we can to make that happen. But right now, you need to stay strong. For him."

Seven stopped talking to Steve and Sam, her focus entirely on the live feed. The tension in the room was palpable as she strained to hear every word exchanged on the screen. She saw her papa, Bucky, sitting in a small, sterile metal cage thing, looking weary but resolute. He was wearing tight restraints that made it to where he could only move his head.

A man she vaguely recognized from past encounters stood across from him, his tone trying to sound soothing yet firm.

"Do you know where you are, James?" the man asked, his voice carrying a strange familiarity that sent chills down her spine.

Seven's heart pounded. She knew that voice, but she couldn't place it. It frightened her, reminding her of dark times. Bucky looked up slowly, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and defiance. He didn't respond immediately, and Seven held her breath, her heart aching with the need for him to be okay.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James," the man pressed, his voice slightly sterner now.

For a moment, Seven feared that Bucky might shut down, that he might not respond at all. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Then, finally, Bucky spoke, his voice hoarse but steady.

"My daughter. Where is she?"

Seven's eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice. Despite everything, his first thought was of her. She felt a surge of hope, a reassurance that he hadn't forgotten her, that he was still fighting, still thinking of her.

The man on the screen responded quickly, almost dismissively. "She's safe, but let's not talk about her right now, James—"

"My name is Bucky," Bucky interrupted, his voice firmer, filled with a strength that made Seven's heart swell with pride.

Seven leaned closer to the screen, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as if holding on for dear life. "He remembers..." she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and joy. "He remembers..."

"THAT'S NOT HIM," Seven insisted, her voice trembling slightly as she watched Steve scrutinize the headline and the picture of Bucky allegedly involved in the Vienna bombing. "I was with him. That's not him."

Steve sighed heavily, setting down the paper. He gave Sev a brief, sympathetic look before turning to the others. "Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?" he asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question than anything.

"To get the word out, involve as many eyes as possible," Sharon replied, her tone pragmatic.

"Right," Steve agreed. "It's a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken." He looked at Sharon. "Sev said she was with him; they were in Romania."

Sharon sighed, clearly torn. "We can't judge the statement of a little girl, Steve. There are so many reasons she could be lying about that. She could be protecting him."

Seven scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm right here, y'know?" she snapped. "And he didn't do it. We haven't left Romania in two years."

Steve nodded in agreement. "Well, like I'm saying, they had seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier," he reiterated.

Sharon was quick to retort. "You're saying someone framed him to find him?"

Seven huffed in frustration. "Well, that would make a lot of sense."

Sharon turned to her sharply. "The adults are talking now," she said, her tone condescending.

Steve shot Sharon a disapproving glance before turning back to the conversation. "We looked for the guy for two years and found nothing," Sam interjected, trying to keep the discussion on track.

"We didn't bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads," Steve responded, his tone growing more urgent.

"Yeah, and neither did my papa," Seven muttered, her eyes flashing with anger.

Sharon shot her a look that could have frozen lava. "But that doesn't guarantee that whoever framed him would get him, it guarantees that we would," she said, her voice laden with skepticism.

Suddenly, a moment of realization dawned on them all, like a wave crashing over the conversation. Seven's eyes flicked to the TV, and Steve followed suit. Sev's eyes widened as she pieced it together. "That man! He's here to get my papa."

"Yeah, and probably Sev too," Sam added, his expression darkening.

"We don't know that for sure," Sharon said, her voice unconvincingly steady.

The power suddenly went out, plunging the room into darkness. Seven felt a rush of panic as she was pulled towards Steve, who had made it his mission to keep her safe for the sake of his childhood best friend. The sudden silence was filled with tension, and the only sound was their rapid breathing.

"What's happening?" Seven asked, clutching the hem of Steve's sleeve tightly.

"I don't know, Sev," Steve replied, his voice tense but steady. "We're going to be okay."

Suddenly, Sharon's voice broke through the darkness. "Sub level five, East wing."

The urgency in her voice spurred Sam into action. He darted up, ready to respond to the new threat. Steve grabbed hold of Sev's hand, his grip reassuring and firm. "Come on, Sev. Stay close to me."

As they moved quickly towards the exit, Sam shot Steve a concerned look. "Do we really bring the kid?" He asked, his voice laced with worry.

"We have to keep her safe," Steve said firmly, his eyes hardening with determination. "Just incase someone comes after her."

AS THEY RAN DOWN THE HALLWAY, the flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the walls. Seven's heart pounded in her chest as they moved, the echoes of their footsteps mingling with the distant sounds of chaos. They encountered soldiers knocked unconscious or even dead, strewn across the corridor like discarded dolls. Seven swallowed hard, her fear spiking with each step.

When they reached the room where her papa had been held, they found it empty. Panic clawed at Seven's throat. "He's gone," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Steve ran over to check the pulse of a fallen soldier, but he jerked his head up at the sound of a weak voice. "Help me..."

Seven looked up at Steve, her eyes wide. "That's the bad guy..." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Steve nodded grimly, then pushed Seven towards Sam, who grabbed her shoulders gently but firmly. "I know."

Sev watched as Steve paced towards the man and yanked him up, pinning him to the wall with a level of anger she had never seen before. The intensity in Steve's eyes made her shiver.

"Come on, Sev," Sam said, guiding her so they could fully enter the room. The tension was palpable, and Seven's anxiety was growing by the second.

Just as they made it to the doorway, Sam dodged a punch that came out of nowhere, the impact of which blew a hole in the doorway. Seven was jolted back and found herself lying on the ground, dazed.

She watched in horror as her papa, his eyes filled with a cold, unrecognizable fury, grabbed Sam by the face and threw him against the wall where he had once been restrained. Fear and confusion surged through Seven as she scrambled to her feet and ran towards her papa.

"Papa—" she began, but before she could say anything more, he swiftly turned and punched her with his metal arm, sending her flying back to the ground.

Pain exploded in her head, and she saw spots clouding her vision. She struggled to stand, touching her forehead and wincing at the wetness there. A large gash oozed blood, and her nose was bleeding profusely from the impact with the ground.

Snapping herself back to reality, Seven fought through the pain and crawled over to Sam, who was lying unconscious nearby. She sat on her knees beside him and began to shake him vigorously. "Sam! Sam! Wake up," she pleaded, her voice cracking.

Sam groaned and opened his eyes, weakly looking at her. He noticed the gash and the bloody nose and chuckled softly. "You look rough, kid," he said, his voice strained.

"Papa didn't recognize me..." she said, her voice breaking with despair.

Before Sam could respond, he looked past her and shouted, "Hey!" Seven snapped her head around to see Zemo making his escape. Sam pushed himself up quickly, yanking Seven to her feet as well.

Zemo bolted down the hallway, and Sam and Seven took off after him. "Keep up, Lucky!" Sam urged as they ran.

They chased Zemo up a flight of stairs, the exertion making Seven's head throb even more. Despite the pain, she pushed herself to keep up with Sam. Zemo was fast and had a head start, and Seven felt a sinking feeling of hopelessness as they burst through the doors and into the chaotic crowd outside.

The streets were filled with people running away from the building, making it difficult to spot Zemo. Sam's eyes darted around frantically before he grabbed Zemo's jacket off the ground . "Do you see him?" Sam asked Seven, his voice urgent.

Seven scanned the crowd, her heart sinking. "No..." she said, her voice filled with frustration and despair.

"Damnit," Sam muttered, releasing the man and turning back to look at Seven. The weight of their situation pressed heavily on them both.

SEVEN STOOD AROUND HER PAPA along with Sam and Steve. They had found refuge in a dimly lit warehouse, a temporary haven amidst the chaos. The air was thick with tension and the faint scent of dust. Seven stood between Sam and Steve, her eyes glued to her father, who was unconscious and slumped against a wall. His metal arm was pinned under a heavy piece of machinery, ensuring he couldn't lash out if he was still under the influence of his Winter Soldier conditioning.

Seven's gash throbbed painfully, the dried blood on her nose a stark reminder of the earlier violence. She watched with a mixture of fear and hope as Bucky groaned, slowly lifting his head. His eyes fluttered open, and he scanned the room, disoriented.

"Papa? Do you remember me?" Seven's voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling with uncertainty.

Bucky's gaze settled on her, his eyes softening with recognition and concern. "Sev? Are you okay? Come here, my baby." He extended his one free arm, his flesh and blood arm, inviting her into an embrace.

Relief washed over Seven like a wave. She knelt down, burying her face in his shoulder. Bucky's arm wrapped around her, holding her close. She felt the steady beat of his heart against her cheek, a comforting rhythm that grounded her amidst the turmoil.

Bucky pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning her face with growing horror as he noticed the gash on her forehead. He reached out to touch it, but she flinched back in pain. "What happened?" he asked, his voice rough and strained.

Seven didn't answer, not wanting to burden him with more guilt. But the haunted look in Bucky's eyes told her he already knew. "Did I do that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sev shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. The truth was too painful to voice. Steve, sensing the weight of the moment, stepped in. "You didn't recognize her when you did it," he said gently, his voice filled with understanding.

Bucky's grip tightened protectively around Seven as he looked up at Steve. "Steve?" he said, the name carrying a wealth of history and emotion.

Steve's face was a mask of cautious hope. "Which Bucky am I talking to?" he asked, his tone serious.

"Your mom's name was Sarah," Bucky replied, his voice still raspy but steadier now. A weak chuckle escaped his lips. "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

Steve's stern expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Can't read that in a museum."

Sam, standing to the side, couldn't help but interject. "And just like that, we're supposed to be cool?"

Steve glanced over at Sam before turning his attention back to Bucky. "Why don't you take Sev and fix up that nasty gash on her forehead? I saw a first aid kit somewhere."

Sam shrugged, not entirely convinced but willing to help. "Okay," he said, stepping forward.

"Buck, is that okay?" Steve asked, seeking his friend's approval.

Bucky nodded, then looked down at Seven. "Go with Sam for a bit, okay?" he told her, his voice gentle.

She nodded and stood up, though she was reluctant to leave his side. Sam placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and led her away from the tense atmosphere surrounding her father.

Sam led Seven to a quieter corner of the warehouse, where they could find a moment's peace. He found the first aid kit he'd spotted earlier and sat Seven down on a crate. The dim light cast long shadows, making the place feel almost surreal. Sam knelt in front of her, opening the kit and pulling out antiseptic wipes, gauze, and bandages.

"Alright, Lucky Seven," Sam said with a gentle smile, using the nickname he'd given her a while ago. "Let's get you fixed up."

Seven managed a small smile at the nickname. "Okay."

Sam carefully dabbed at the gash on her forehead with an antiseptic wipe. Seven winced but held still, her eyes fixed on Sam's face for comfort. "This might sting a bit," Sam warned, his voice calm and soothing.

Seven nodded, biting her lip to keep from making a sound. As he worked, Sam kept talking, trying to distract her from the pain. "You know, when I was your age, I got into a fight with a beehive," he said, chuckling. "Guess who won?"

Seven's eyes widened. "The bees?"

"You bet," Sam laughed. "I ran home screaming, covered in bee stings. My mom had to calm me down with a whole lot of ice cream."

Despite herself, Seven giggled. "Did it help?"

"Not really," Sam admitted with a grin. "But it sure tasted good."

After a bit of silence and Sam fixing up hee hast, he spoke. "How are you holding up, kiddo?" Sam asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Seven bit her lip, her eyes welling up with tears she had been holding back. "I'm okay, I guess. Just worried about Papa. I know he didn't mean to hurt me, but... it still happened."

Sam nodded, understanding the complexity of her emotions. "It's a tough situation, Seven. Your dad's been through a lot, and he's still fighting those demons."

As he carefully applied a bandage to her forehead, Sam started to tell a joke, hoping to lighten the mood. "You know, there was this one time Steve tried to impress a girl by showing off his shield skills. He ended up knocking himself out cold. Funniest thing I ever saw."

Seven managed a small giggle, the tension easing just a bit. "Did he really?"

Sam grinned. "Oh yeah, he did. I swear, he woke up with a look on his face like he'd just seen the end of the world. But hey, we all have our moments, right?"

She smiled at the story, her nerves calming a little.

Sam's expression softened, and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You know, it's okay to feel scared and confused. What happened was an accident. Your dad loves you more than anything. That's why he feels so guilty, it's only natural."

Seven's eyes lowered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But what if he can't forgive himself for hitting me? What if he can't get past it?"

Sam looked at her with a mix of compassion and firmness. "Seven, what father wouldn't feel guilty for hurting his child, even if it was an accident? Bucky's a good man. He's struggling, sure, but he's got a heart full of love for you. It's going to take time, but he'll come to terms with it."

Seven sniffled, her heart heavy with worry. "I just don't want him to hurt anymore because of me."

Sam knelt down so he was at eye level with her, his gaze steady and reassuring. "Listen to me, Lucky. You're not the reason he's hurting. HYDRA did a number on him, but you—you're his light. You give him a reason to fight, a reason to hope. It's not your fault, and it's not his fault either. Healing takes time, for both of you."

She nodded slowly, taking comfort in his words. "Thanks, Sam. I just... I don't want to lose him."

"You won't," Sam said firmly. "Bucky's a fighter, as we all can see, and so are you. You both have each other, and that's what matters. Now, how about we get you some water and maybe find a snack? I think you've earned it."

Seven smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing as she felt a bit more reassured. "Okay, that sounds good."

Sam stood up and led her over to a small table where they had stashed some supplies. He found a bottle of water and handed it to her, along with a granola bar he had tucked away in his pack.