Without a second thought, we get out of the facility. We take the helicopter back to my warehouse and decide to fly commercial back to the U.S. Mira and I have false American passports that still work perfectly. Bucky seems less than thrilled as he hands over his legit one to security.
To nobody's surprise, the Avenger with the metal arm makes us take longer going through airport security. We could have taken military transport, but there's none flying out to the U.S. for at least a few days, and we're both eager to get away from here. Plus, they might ask questions about Mira and I.
Bucky draws an incredible amount of attention the moment the jacket comes off for the security check and people see the full prosthetic arm. I realize now that isn't normal, not only is it vibranium, but the average person doesn't have a billion-dollar, high-tech prosthetics.
I take Mira and disappear into the crowd, signaling for him to meet us at the gate once he loses the fan crowd. Our ticket is to Louisiana first so we can grab Mira's things from Sarah's, plus Sam isn't exactly letting the situation go. Bucky says he basically just dropped her off and said, "I have a kid. I need to go get her mother. Think you can watch her?"
He gave them just enough details before getting the hell out of there. Sarah is fine with it, but Sam has been relentless with questions, especially after the whole teleporting debacle. I think Bucky is about to crush his phone from how much it vibrates.
Before long, Bucky finds us seated outside the gate and plops down next to us. Mira flips restlessly in my lap as we wait. Eventually, Bucky stands with her, letting her climb all over him as they circle the airport, trying to burn off some energy. But hell, she's a super soldier or something, she can do laps in the airport and still not get tired.
I pull the journal from my backpack, staring at the dusty cover, running my fingers over it. My heart beats fast, wondering if it will finally have the answers I've been wondering for years. I know it won't have everything. Hydra didn't know everything about what they made, but I pray it at least points me in a direction.
I want to go to Wakanda to get the answers, but that would mean tests on both Mira and me, and Bucky would need to pull a miracle. He's been warned to stay away from Wakanda for a while after the whole Zemo situation, and he's already just called in a favor to get Sam his suit.
Before I can work up the courage to open the journal, our flight is called. Bucky returns with Mira and a small shopping bag of books. Clutched in Mira's hands is a fairly large, axolotl-pink plushie.
"You were gone for like ten minutes?" I whisper, looking down at Mira and her new toy.
He shrugs. "She needed something to keep her busy for the flight, and my phone is dead thanks to Sam."
When we board, we somehow get upgraded to first class. Not sure how, maybe somebody is fangirling for Bucky, but who cares? Free upgrades.
It's a long flight back. After we hit cruising altitude and the lights dim for everyone to sleep, I flip on my reading light. With trembling hands, I untie the string around the journal and start to read.
The journal begins when I'm still in cryo. The first twenty pages talk about the other super soldiers they're creating, how they use Bucky for training while I sleep. I wonder why I wasn't the one used, but I guess it doesn't matter now.
It glosses over their prior lives, already loyal Hydra agents. Finally, it details the failed attempts, the countless experiments to replicate my regeneration. None succeeded.
They determine it's because none of them possessed "the Cube" and have no idea where it is now. Even their men in SHIELD couldn't find it.
Then the doctor, Edward was apparently his name, comes up with the idea of determining if it's possible to get me pregnant to naturally birth a soldier with my abilities. Countless meetings with superiors follow, taking a year of discussion before the idea is declined, deemed too risky, with too many moving parts. Not to mention the risk of failure… or me getting free in the process.
Damn straight, assholes, that's exactly how I got out.
Edward isn't thrilled, and neither is the Siberian facility commander who guarded us. They decide it's better to list me as dead and do the research themselves, hoping the child they breed will be a perfect soldier for Hydra: strong, loyal, indestructible.
The next entry deliberates who would be my sperm donor. The words make bile climb my throat, anger boiling. I almost rip the pages out. My thoughts spin, but I find Bucky's hand resting on my thigh. He's across the aisle, Mira asleep next to him, clutching her new toy under a fluffy plane blanket.
His firm hand squeezes me, reassuring, he doesn't ask what it says or to read it. Maybe he doesn't care, maybe he wants to read it later, or maybe he knows everything he needs to. He knows what he is; he has no questions Hydra needs to answer about him.
I close the journal for now. Meals begin passing through the cabin, and ripping apart the only thing that might hold answers doesn't seem wise.
After the meal, Mira stays awake, reading. Bucky picks her up and puts her on his lap, sliding over into her seat. I switch into his spot; his arm wraps around me immediately, pulling me into his firm chest. The sound of his heartbeat calms me, a perfect lullaby. I drift off quickly, out cold. My last feeling is the warmth of his lips on the top of my head, his breath tickling my hair.