Hell Bound

I could feel the heat of the sun against my back as I walked through the debris of a crumbling church. Shattered stained glass made beams of colored light through the dusty air. There was shouting and voices still calling from outside, but I moved away from them. I knew I should have gone to help, but I had to go back and confess what I’d done. I had to surrender my weapons and tell them to lock me up. I kept my feet moving forward, crunching through bits of colored glass and chunks of stone.

I was terrified of what would happen if I found another member of my team. I could still see the brief shock on Tran’s face right before I pulled the trigger. There was a moment right before the light went out when I could see betrayal in his eyes. I could still hear the frantic tone of Captain Russell’s voice as he begged for my gun. What if I found him next? What if the next person I saw when I left the church was Russell, and I killed him? Or even Jimenez or the Colonel? I was going to spend the rest of my life in prison, or worse, trapped in my own head and unable to control my body.

When I left the church, I heard more shouting at the end of the street. I told myself to stop before I hurt anyone else, but my feet kept moving. My fingers slid down the weapon and rested on the trigger. When he came around the corner, my friend and comrade, I shot him between the eyes.

I woke up gasping. I was still on the uncomfortable chair in the living room. I’d kicked the blanket to the floor in my struggle. The sun was already shining, spilling beams of golden light in stripes through the blinds.

Bucky was lying on the couch, but he was awake now. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been that way or if I woke him up. He moved his head to the side and glanced up at me, but I couldn’t come up with any words. I didn’t think he needed to hear them anyway. I could already see the understanding on his face.

I decided not to give him a chance to speak. I jumped out of the chair and headed right toward the hallway.

“What time is it? Are you hungry?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied from behind me.

I went to make breakfast anyway. It had been a long time since I had someone to cook for. Not that I particularly enjoyed cooking. I usually looked for any excuse not to. But it helped keep my mind off of things. And I knew Bucky liked waffles. Even if he didn’t remember it. Plus, the kid probably liked them too.

Graham was still asleep when I checked on Bucky after I got the coffee started. He was sleeping on the couch too. I didn’t want to put on any music in case I woke them, but I couldn’t stand the silence. My ears always started to ring, and I couldn’t last long. So I hummed to myself as I prepared the batter just to drown it out.

I heard Graham when he woke up. The ceiling creaked before I heard his footsteps in the hallway. Bucky was always the opposite. Eerily silent even in a house with wood floors that were constantly shifting. He never made a sound unless he wanted me to know he was there.

Graham came right for the kitchen once he reached the bottom floor.

“What are you making?” he asked, appearing in the entryway still groggy from sleep. His short brown hair was messy and sticking straight up. He was still exhausted. Probably from the events of the night before. Or just sleeping on a crappy futon.

“Waffles,” I told him. “I hope you like waffles.”

“I would worship waffles if that was an acceptable religion.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. He limped over to the table and nearly collapsed into the closest chair. “What were you singing?”

“Oh, I don’t really know. Just trying to break the silence, I guess. I hate when it’s quiet.”

“How’s the patient?” he asked just as I started the first waffle.

“Still breathing. He was awake earlier. Probably won’t be able to move for a while, though.”

“He handles pain really well. I mean—aside from the passing out part. But I think that probably had more to do with the blood squirting out of his stomach like a hose. And I mean—he did yank that piece of metal out without even stopping to think about it.” He sighed as the gears in his mind turned. “I guess that’s not the worst he’s ever been through, though. That arm—looks rough.” I turned back around to hand him a mug of coffee.

“It was,” I said.

“How did you meet that guy anyway? I know you were Special Forces and were probably up to all kinds of weird stuff, but how does a girl like you end up with a guy like him?” This time, when I turned around, I crossed my arms over my chest and glared.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” He was looking into the purple mug and not at me, but he heard the change in my tone and looked up innocently. With big gray eyes.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he insisted. “I’m sorry. My mouth kind of runs ahead of me sometimes. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, now I’m curious. What kind of girl do you think I am?” He shrugged.

“I don’t know. Gentle. Kind. The kind of girl who dates accountants. Not—cyborgs.” I gritted my teeth and turned back to the waffle maker.

“You think I’d end up in the Special Forces if I was soft?”

“I didn’t say soft. I figured you’re definitely a force to be reckoned with. But you’re still nicer than I’m used to.”

“Being nice has nothing to do with it. Lots of people are nice. But what kind of guy do you think he is?” He took a moment to respond as I got a plate together. I balanced the creamer and syrup in one arm and set everything on the table. He was still busy contemplating my question.

“I think he’s dangerous,” he finally concluded.

“Funny. He thinks the same about you.” He huffed and reached for the syrup.

“I’m a huge wuss. I couldn’t even make it through one tour, and now I can never serve again. I’m a twenty-three-year-old homeless veteran with the body of a twelve-year-old and a knee made out of plastic. What kind of danger could I be to a guy with a robot arm who rips chunks of metal out of his own skin and doesn’t even scream?” I didn’t answer. I went back to the counter to get another waffle started for Bucky. “No, I get it,” he muttered from behind me. “He’s not worried that I’m dangerous to him. It’s you.”

“What about me?” I asked.

“He’s worried I’m a danger to you.” I turned back around to look at him. He was preparing his coffee and not paying any attention to me. As if this was a completely normal conversation to have at the breakfast table. He was probably letting his mouth run ahead of him again.

“Stark said Hydra was after you, right?” he continued, stirring creamer into his coffee. He finally noticed me watching him, but I still didn’t answer. I just turned back to what I was doing.

I’d barely gotten the second waffle going when I heard Graham yelp from behind me. I turned to find Bucky in the kitchen, silent on his feet even when he was in pain. He had Graham by the head, and my pink knife was pressed against the kid’s exposed throat.

“He knows too much,” he said, looking right at me. His expression was dark and cold again, most of it hidden in the shade of his blood-matted hair.

“Put the knife down. He’s just a kid,” I told him.

“Twenty-three,” Graham squeaked. We both ignored him.

“He knows too much about you,” Bucky continued. “If they haven’t gotten to him yet, they will.”

“Everything he knows about me is everything they already know. Probably less.”

“He knows about me.”

“He doesn’t know anything about you except that you have a metal arm and a high pain tolerance.”

“It’s enough. He runs his mouth off to one person, and we’re both dead.” I sighed.

“He’s not going to tell anyone. I trust him.”

“And if he does?”

“Then you have my permission to kill him painfully, but not with my pink knife. Sam bought it for me, and it’s my favorite.” I went to his side and yanked the knife out of his hand. He let it go but kept his metal grip on Graham’s face. The poor kid’s eyes were wide and terrified. Bucky forced his head back, making him look up so he could threaten him some more.

“You tell anyone I’m here. Anyone at all. And I won’t kill you, but I’ll make you wish I would. And if you hurt her, I’ll destroy everything you love and make you watch. And then I’ll definitely kill you. Painfully. Slowly. Understood?” Graham tried to nod, but his head was stuck.

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir,” he mumbled through metal fingers. I wrapped my hand around Bucky’s free arm and pulled him back from the table.

“Come on. You shouldn’t be up unless you absolutely have to,” I reminded him.

“I thought it was necessary.” He let me help him back to the couch and sat down with a pained grunt.

“How are you feeling?” I asked. He grunted again in response.

Since he was awake, I decided to turn on the TV to give him something to do. I pulled the coffee table closer to the couch so he wouldn’t have to reach very far to change the channels, and I could leave him with snacks or water or something.

“How long?” he asked, watching me shuffle around the living room.

“How long for what?” I replied.

“How long was I here? Before.”

“Long enough for me to know what you like to eat.”

“Uh—I think your waffle is burning,” Graham called from the kitchen.

“Shit.” I hurried back to see if I could save it. Luckily, it wasn’t that bad. But it was crispy. And Bucky seemed to like the crispy ones more anyway. “Sorry about that,” I told Graham as I assembled Bucky’s plate and checked the waffle for burns.

“It’s alright. I really need to watch what I say.”

“It wouldn’t matter. He doesn’t trust easily. I don’t even think he trusts me.”

“I think he does. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have come here.”

“Or it was just a matter of convenience.”

“Still. He’d have to trust you. Plus that whole—starry eyes thing he gets when he looks at you.”

“Pretty sure that’s just blood loss.”

“You’re right. I always look like that when I’m delirious from blood loss. I tried to propose marriage to all my nurses.”

“You talk too much, kid,” I said, passing him to take Bucky his waffles and some ibuprofen.

“I’m twenty-three!” he called after me.

Bucky was right where I left him on the couch. Only he’d moved the pillow to the other side so he could lie on his side without bothering the stitches. I set the plate down on the coffee table and knelt beside him, so I could look him in the eye.

“I brought you some ibuprofen. I don’t think it’ll help much with the pain. You’ll probably burn through it before it can do anything. But it might relieve some of the inflammation.”

His face was half smushed into the pillow, and the only word I’d use to describe him was “adorable.” Like an angry and defeated cat. But I’d never say it out loud. His blue eyes were dark, and his skin was still pale. But even then, he seemed so much more alive than he had before. As if he’d finally regained something of himself. And was completely comfortable expressing irritation.

“Thank you,” he muttered, even though the pillow was squishing his face.

“You’re welcome. Now, will you tell me what happened? And I’m afraid ‘boom’ isn’t a sufficient enough explanation.” He lifted his hand and motioned toward the TV behind me. He was watching the news on mute. There was an image of a burning building they were still trying to hose down. The words “Explosion rocks downtown DC” scrolled beneath the image. I couldn’t make out what building it was or where. Just that it was beyond damaged, and probably a government building. I turned back to Bucky. “That was you?”

“Them,” he said.

“You’re not with them anymore?”

“No.”

“How long?”

“Since I saw you last.” I nodded slowly.

“I knew you were starting to question things again.”

“I kept putting my hand over my heart,” he told me, lifting his hand and pressing it against his chest. “And counting to four.”

“Did you have any idea why?”

“No. Just that you knew. And you tried to protect me. That was enough. Something didn’t feel right.”

“But you don’t remember anything?”

“I remember some things. Him, mostly.” I nodded slowly and chewed on my lip.

“You mean Steve?”

“He was my friend.”

“He still is.” He didn’t say anything to that. He just studied my face, and I couldn’t handle it for long. So I stood up. “Eat your waffle. I’ll help you get cleaned up afterward, but I have to work today, and I’m going to take the kid to apply for jobs. I’ll be back sometime in the late afternoon. Don’t even think about leaving this house, or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“They’re coming for you,” he said as I walked away. I stopped in the hall and turned back around to face him.

“I thought they just wanted to use me against you, but the last time I saw you, you said it was something else. Something big. They had a name for me. The Vessel. What does that mean?” He shook his head slowly, still smushed into the pillow.

“Whatever it is, it’s been a long time coming.” He paused. “I don’t think it has anything to do with me anymore.” I nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”