Hell Bound

I didn’t bother to tell Graham that Bucky was back, just in case he didn’t come through on his promise. But I got a pizza anyway and listened to Graham tell me about his first day. He was very proud to inform me that he didn’t throw a single thing all day. And I promised to throw him a party if he made it through the month.

When we got home, my house appeared empty. I hid my disappointment and told myself he’d probably come by later. I carried the pizza into the kitchen, and Graham followed after me, oblivious to the fact that I was looking for someone.

“And then I got an order for like twenty sandwiches,” Graham was telling me. I set the pizza down on the counter, went to reach for a plate, and then heard him gasp so loudly it almost qualified as a shriek. I turned around to him leaning on the table with his hand over his heart. Bucky was standing in the doorway. “You scared the shit out of me!” Graham said. Bucky glanced at him, but I could detect amusement.

“Good,” he decided.

“Hey, you stayed,” I noted. He nodded and turned back to me.

“I promised.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was back?” Graham asked. I shrugged.

“I wanted to see him scare the shit out of you.” Bucky actually smiled. I turned back to the cupboard.

“Well, even though I just peed my pants a little, I’m glad you’re back,” Graham continued. “I was kind of growing to almost like you. Even though you think I’m a Hydra guy.” I turned back around.

“He doesn’t think you’re a Hydra guy.”

“He definitely thinks I’m a Hydra guy.”

“I think he works for Hydra,” Bucky confirmed. I groaned.

“He doesn’t work for Hydra,” I insisted.

“Well, this not Hydra guy is starving,” Graham said as he came to my side to get a slice. “Oh, no olives this time?”

“Bucky doesn’t like them. What happened with the guy and the twenty sandwiches?”

“Oh, it just took forever to get the order filled. But I had a lot of help since I’m still training. And the guy was surprisingly cool about it. It was just nice to not want to hurl a sandwich at him, you know?”

“I’m glad to hear that. I hope you continue to experience the feeling of not wanting to hurl sandwiches at people.”

“Amen to that.” He took his plate and disappeared into the living room. Bucky was still standing in the same spot.

“He’s not Hydra,” I told him.

“No, you’re right,” he agreed. “Not yet.” I sighed again.

“He wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

“They could get him just to get close to you.”

“You’re right. Maybe I should never make friends or help anyone again for the rest of my life. Just in case.” I paused. “He’s not going to turn on me.”

“I don’t think you know him well enough to say that.”

“No, but I like to think I’m a decent judge of character.”

“You dated a guy who worked for Hydra,” he reminded me. “While you were dating.” I turned back around to make him a plate.

“But see, I knew he was an asshole. And in my defense, I was told Hydra no longer existed. So I don’t think that counts.”

“Then why did you date him?” He sounded genuinely interested as he walked to my side. I just wasn’t sure what his motive was. Jealousy didn’t seem like his thing, but I couldn’t figure out why else he’d benefit from the answer. I stuck a slice of pizza on a plate and handed it out.

“Because I was lonely, Bucky. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He took the plate and shook his head.

“No.”

“He was nice at first, okay? He was military. There was something off. But I was military too. I thought I understood. It never occurred to me that he was working for Hydra because Hydra was something I learned about in ninth-grade history and nothing more. He was the first person to show genuine interest in me for a long time. At least an interest that lasted longer than a night. I held onto that instead of trusting my gut. But the weirdness was there, and it just got worse. I ended it before it went too far.”

“How long did it take?”

“Too long.”

“Then how do you know you can trust the kid?”

“Because the darkness in him isn’t violent. There’s no rage or anger. Just pain. He’s a kid with no family. He lost everyone he loves. He’s suffering, and he masks it with humor.”

“What kind of darkness do you see in me?”

“I see rage and pain. But you don’t use humor to mask it. You just run away.”

“But you trust me?”

“Yes. Because I can see that you want something better for yourself. Your anger isn’t directed at me or even Graham. Plus, I think—I don’t know—maybe it just hurts a little less when you’re not alone.”

I got myself a plate and headed toward the living room before he could say anything else.

After dinner, Bucky insisted that we needed to go over what he’d found while he was gone. So we excused ourselves to my bedroom and sat on the bed to review the papers he’d compiled. He had the book, the notebook, and numerous pieces of paper, all representing different sections of the code.

“The first few words were easy once I got the vowels,” he explained as he set them out. “The code gets more complex as it progresses. It evolves. The vowels just get you started, but they switch again. Each section of code hides a clue about the vowels in the next section. The coordinates are scattered throughout with no warning. So that makes it even more confusing.”

“What do you think the coordinates are for?” I asked. I looked over the papers, but nothing popped out at me.

“I’m not sure. I wanted to dig, but it was beside a busy highway. Even at night, I was too noticeable. The warehouse in New York was empty. I can’t say whether or not there’s anything buried. I’ll have to get my hands on more equipment. I just can’t say whether or not it would be worth it.”

“What’s your hunch?”

“What makes you think I have one?” I gave him a look.

“You always have one.”

“I think the coordinates are significant to Russell’s life specifically. The side of the highway in Ohio, an abandoned warehouse in New York, a church in Sokovia.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One of the other words I managed to pull out was Beata Frindt. There’s more on her than on a hypothetical Beata Weisberg.”

“What did you find?”

“She was born in Belarus but lived in Sokovia.”

“You know my grandparents were from Sokovia, too, right?”

“I knew that. I think he either went back, or he was working there for a time. He may have worked with Sokovian Intelligence. I don’t know why the church is significant to him. Maybe they were married there. Maybe they met there. Her trail ends abruptly. The only record I can find is that she was associated with a private research company called IGH. There’s nothing on them at all, but I think I know where they were based.”

“Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Yes.”

“And the highway in Ohio?” He hesitated again and fiddled with some papers instead of answering. I waited patiently.

“The highway passes through Cleveland. Not far from the overpass where she jumped. The exact coordinates are about thirty minutes out of the city. She was covered in blood when I found her. Likely hemorrhaging. So I think the coordinates represent—where you were born.”

“On the side of a highway?” I questioned.

“Yes.” I shook my head.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because they were on the run. Russell wouldn’t have taken her to a hospital. They must have already made the plan to take you to his sister. She likely went into labor while they were still running. Russell would have been capable of handling a delivery on his own. They were already headed toward the city. She left him with you to distract us. So he could get you to safety before they realized she had a child. The autopsy would have told them, especially if she was hemorrhaging when she died. By the time they figured it out, you were already safely hidden away. Russell’s alias had no association with Ivan Weisberg at the time. They wouldn’t have put it together.”

“Beata was married to him.” He shook his head.

“It was possible, and very likely, that it wasn’t a legal marriage. Frindt was her legal name. Weisberg was his name. They both used aliases. The Daryl Russell alias had no association with Beata’s aliases. Probably for that reason.”

“Then how can you be sure Daryl Russell and Ivan Weisberg are the same person?” He looked at me again.

“I just am.”

“In that dream I had—when I was being questioned—they were asking for his name. I don’t think I knew what they meant.”

“They must have suspected him. They were probably trying to find you. They wouldn’t have expected him to have you so close.”

“None of this makes any sense.”

“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. All I can do is speculate.”

“And you still think he’s my father?” I asked.

“I’m positive that he is.” I sighed, and he reached out to put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault. It’s just kind of overwhelming. And confusing.”

“I understand.” I leaned forward and rubbed my eyes. “Do you want to go to sleep?” I nodded.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get this put away.”

“Are you going to stay the night?” He’d already begun shuffling through the papers, but he paused when I spoke.

“That depends,” he said with a glance at me. Then he smiled. “Do I have to sleep on the couch?” I glared back playfully.

“You’re absolutely forbidden from sleeping on the couch.”

“Then how could I refuse?”