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cinnamongorll · 2 months ago

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Unburied - Chapter 2 🫀

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character Summary: Recently pardoned for his crimes as the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes is expected to rebuild his life, but the ghosts of his past force him to remain in the shadows. Elise Monroe, an assistant at a biotech company, is drowning in the demands of her job and her boss’s ambitions. When their worlds collide, a fragile friendship forms, but Bucky’s haunted history plunges Elise into a web of vengeance and hidden truths. As the tension between them builds, so do the threats that lurk in the shadows. In a world of uncertainty, one thing is clear: Bucky’s past won’t stay buried for long. Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, YEARNING, pov first person, pov third person, multiple povs, eventual smut, violence & gore, ANGST, protective Bucky, mutual pining Word count: 4.3k

previous chapter | masterlist | ao3

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Chapter 2:

There’s blood on my sleeve.

Not much, just a splatter on the cuff. But it’s there. It’s real.

So was last night.

I squeeze my eyes shut and run the back of my hand over my forehead, attempting to wipe away the beginnings of a headache.

God, what was I thinking walking into that alley?

I was tired, that’s what I was thinking.

Exhausted is a better word for it. Drained, is another.

No amount of coffee from Maggie’s could have helped me yesterday. My fingers still ache from their keyboard marathon. Documents after documents. Roughly a thousand emails. All asking for more information on Project Halcyon.

My eyes open to my reflection in the mirror. I cringe.

Dark circles. Smeared mascara. Hair, soaked in sweat, plastered to my cheek.

I blow out a long breath and reach for the tap.

Water splashes across my face, cold and shocking. My hands come away with a slight tremble. I pin them to the flat edge of the sink with a sharp shake of my head.

I have to get myself together. Dr. Halden trusted me to handle this, to help get this project off the ground. I think back to yesterday, to his heavy hopeful hand on my shoulder, telling me I’m made for bigger things.

That sickening, ambition churns in my gut. I couldn’t let him regret his decision.

With a quick exhale, I push off the sink and turn, unbuttoning my shirt, fingers moving quickly. I was too tired, too stunned, to get changed before I passed out last night. The blood is still there, the sight boring into me.

I tug the last button free and drop the shirt to the floor, kicking it into a corner to be safe.

I step into the shower. The sound of the rushing water takes me back to a busy street, wet concrete, the entrance to a dark alley. A flash of the man sparks across my vision. His dark shadow, crawling towards me. Wide eyes. My knife, grazing his throat.

A stupid, exhausted, dangerous mistake I wouldn’t make again.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Hard enough for stars to dance in the blackness. I push everything out of my mind, everything that will distract me from the day ahead. I open them to the stream of the shower.

Beads of water drip down my chin.

I allow the memories of last night to follow them down the drain.

When I step out of the shower the steam has blurred the mirror, reducing my image to a faded outline. I blink and look away, pulling a towel from the radiator and wrapping it around my shivering body.

After I’m toweled off, I start going through the motions. My routine is so well ingrained, my movements are almost robotic. I pull on a new white blouse, black trousers.

I dry my hair, eyes darting to the clock on my nightstand. I move quicker.

The bass from my neighbour’s stereo shakes the mascara on my vanity. I pause dabbing on some concealer to push my earphones into my ears, fighting a vicious eye roll. There’s no time to confront him, not that I'd even have the energy.

With a deep breath and swipe of lipstick, I turn and stand. Another glance at the clock. I bite the inside of my cheek.

I grab my ID badge from the cabinet and my shoes from the floor, then take off towards the kitchen. My bag sits on the island, its contents spilled out onto the wooden countertop.

I sigh and rush over, quickly stuffing everything back in. My laptop charger, an abundance of pens, a receipt from Maggie’s.

The sight of it makes me pause. My thumb wrinkles the already crumbled paper as it brushes over the timestamp: 8:00pm - when I bought my first cup.

It must have been past 11:30pm when I eventually left. I’d never been to Maggie’s that late. If I had left even an hour earlier, I wouldn’t have -

I close my hand around the receipt, crushing it into a ball, wishing I could do the same to my brain - wipe out the memory of last night altogether.

The metal bin lid clangs against the wall as I press it with my foot a little too hard. I drop the receipt into the black bag and turn, picking up my shoes and sliding them on.

My neighbour’s stereo changes to an even louder, more obnoxious song. I groan as I pull my arms through my black trench and cringe as a muffled voice joins the singer, begging to “know what love is.”

This is why I couldn’t work here last night. Along with my shitty wifi.

I aggressively push my earphones further into my ears and reach for my ID badge. Once it’s clipped onto my blouse, I send a longing glance towards my coffee machine and I’m out the door, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

It’s early. But the city is loud.

I step out into the flow of pedestrians and traffic, becoming just another body in the crowd. The noise of the city bleeds through the song in my ears. The honk of horns, the hum of conversations, several shouts and bangs. It’s comforting, like a blanket of static wrapped around me.

My office isn’t far. A big skyscraper with the words “Halden Biotech” plastered on the side in giant metallic letters. It’s all glass, reflecting the city back on itself. Refusing to let anyone see inside. It fits Dr. Halden perfectly: impressive, ambitious, but entirely unknowable.

When I reach the corner of the street, I pause at the light. The building is already in view. A sharp gust of wind whips around me, blowing my coat open and circling me in a vicious chill.

With one hand I pull the dark fabric around me, tightening my other around the strap of my bag.

My eyes glance at the pedestrian light. Still red.

Cars fly past. The smells of the city blow around me. Exhaust fumes, coffee. It smells like last night, all that’s missing is the pouring rain.

I tap my toes on the ground as my mind drifts somewhere it shouldn’t.

Back to last night.

To Maggie’s

To the man in the corner. With the gloves and the cap.

Blue eyes that didn’t once look my way until they were wide open, speckled with concern. Fueled by anger.

I shake my head sharply. Who even was he?

Someone pushes into my back. I stumble forward, a gasp caught in my throat.

“Watch it,” a man warns, before stalking past me. I blink and my eyes shoot up. The light is green, I’m blocking the road.

Get it together, Elise.

I lift my head and cross the street, letting each step recentre my mind on what’s important.

My job. Dr. Halden’s new miracle project. Not fucking it up.

Everything else drifts away in the wind as I walk towards the building.

After taking out my earphones and shoving them in my bag, I roll my shoulders and tuck my hair behind my ears as my reflection appears on the glass doors.

Sucking in a breath, I push them open.

My shoes click on the polished floors as I walk towards the security gate, ID badge at the ready. Everything in the lobby shines. Chrome statues, walls of glass, metal pillars. My warped reflection follows me with every step.

I relax my forehead, releasing the crinkle between my brows, and steady my gaze on the security guard. I force a smile, teeth wide.

“Morning, Gary,” I say brightly, handing over my badge.

Gary makes a noise, the most I'll get out of him, and swipes my badge until a green light flashes. He nods as he places it back in my waiting palm.

“Thanks,” I reply to his wordless approval, and walk through the gate.

I step into the elevator and my smile drops. Fifteen floors until I reach the labs. Fifteen floors to mentally prepare.

True to Halden Biotech’s style, every inch of the elevator is mirrored. Meaning I can’t look anywhere without seeing the black bags under my eyes.

What was the point of even putting on concealer?

I untuck my hair from behind my ears and shake it out a little, hoping the mess of my fringe will add some camolague to my haggard appearance.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open.

“Shit… Rough night?”

Joshua Walker stands opposite me. Clipboard in one hand, coffee in the other.

My eyes shoot to the mirrored ceiling before I step out the elevator and stride past him, flashing him an unamused look.��

“Don’t start, Josh,” I warn.

Josh chuckles softly behind me as he speeds up to match my quick pace. “Okay, don’t want to talk about it - noted,” he replies, using his clipboard to do a mock salute. Josh moves to walk by my side. “This is for you, by the way,” he says, handing me the coffee.

I throw him a grateful look, my demeanour softening as I curl my hand around the drink. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Josh replies, using his free hand to scratch his head.

My eyes flick towards him, then narrow. “How bad is it?”

Josh sucks in a breath between his teeth.

I sigh, take a long sip of my coffee and swallow. “I just -” I start, then pause, lowering my voice. “Why announce it to the rest of the company before he even knows if it's possible?”

Josh stops walking. His hand brushes my arm, nudging me into an empty lab. He closes the door softly, drops his clipboard on a table and runs his hands through his hair, tugging on the strands.

In just a few seconds, Josh’s calm is gone, replaced by an echo of my own stress. He never shows this in the lab. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Josh so rattled.

“Everyone’s on edge,” he starts, leaning against the edge of the table and crossing his arms over his chest. “Some lab techs have been here since 5:00am, worried about their jobs if this doesn’t work out.”

I tighten the grip on my bag, feeling my stomach start to twist. “No wonder,” I mutter. “Six months. That’s nothing - how are we going to get this off the ground in time?”

Josh shakes his head. “It gets worse. Halden’s scheduled a press release for this morning,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “It’s going to be a big story - might even knock the Winter Soldier out of the headlines.”

The Winter Soldier? Who -

“I mean - if he’s right - this could be the cure to cancer, the cure for everything,” Josh continues, pushing off of the table and glancing towards me. “And we’d be a part of it.”

His words are a shot of electricity through my body. It’s a fairy tale. But… what if it’s possible?

“Okay,” I breathe, setting my coffee cup down on the table. My mind is running a mile a minute, buzzing and aching with possibilities. “We assume, then, that this will work - that Dr. Halden is on to something here - but what about the timeline? How can we do this in six months? Human testing wouldn’t even begin for years.”

“It’s crazy,” Josh agrees. “But Halden is pushing for board approval. He isn’t shaking on this. I’ve never seen him so obsessed with a project.”

I grab my coffee, taking another long drink. I notice my fingers are trembling. Too much caffeine? Hmm. The drive for success that’s sparking through my bloodstream? More likely.

“I mean, what he’s discovered… it’s revolutionary,” I reply, shaking my head. My eyes flash to his. “We have to make this happen.”

Josh holds my stare, then nods slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“There it is,” he says.

I raise my eyebrows. “What?”

Josh grabs his clipboard and turns, opening the door, holding it for me.

I step forward with a frown, waiting on his answer as I slip past him.

“There’s that Elise Monroe ambition. Ready to take on the world.”

We step out into the corridor. I throw my coffee cup in the bin and turn, flipping him off with a sharp eye roll.

He flashes me a smile as he falls into step beside, heading in the direction of our lab.

“You know he’s already in, right?” Josh says under his breath.

I scrunch my eyebrows and shoot him a glance. “Halden?”

Josh nods.

My hand curls tighter around my bag strap. Was everyone here before me today?

The hallway comes to an end. Josh swipes his badge and we step through the glass doors into the lab.

I feel it the second we enter the room. The silence, like we’ve entered a vacuum seal.

There’s no chatter, no eye contact. Just a room full of lowered heads. Some, with the sickly blue glow of computer screens, some locked over a microscope.

I swallow roughly, and catch Josh scratching his neck out the corner of my eye.

As we stand there, momentarily breathing in the thick tension, my gaze flicks to Dr. Halden’s office. The glass walls provide a clear sight of him inside, standing at his desk, speaking to two senior researchers. His hands are balled into fists, crossed over his chest. His jaw is wound tight. I can imagine the low, sharp commands he’s uttering.

His presence is sobering. All the exhaustion is leached from my body. I straighten my back as a rush of fear and adrenaline floods me.

Beside me, Josh matches my posture.

“Ready for this?” I mutter, glancing up at him.

Josh is already looking down at me. He winks and leans in close. “Let’s save the world.”

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10:03pm

The time on my laptop screen mocks me.

It reminds me I should have been home hours ago. That I’ve worked a fourteen-hour day, and my brain stopped cooperating around the hour eleven mark.

My eyes sting. My neck aches. But the data kept pulling me in, and I let it.

I lean back in my chair. The groan of the metal is a sharp scream in the silent lab.

Josh left about an hour ago. His goodbye was a tired wave after making me promise to uber home - not walk.

I cringe and drag my hands through my hair.

How quickly my thoughts return to last night.

I’d never had any trouble walking home before. In the daylight, in the dark. In the snow, in the rain. It was all the same in Brooklyn. I knew all the shortcuts, could weave through buildings with my eyes closed.

I’d never had any trouble walking home before. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t prepared. Even now, the knife is tucked in the bottom of my bag.

I just hadn’t needed it before.

My hands drop to my desk with a thud as I blow out a long, weighted breath.

The past fourteen hours have been heavy, brutal. But the memory of that dark alley has a tighter hold. Bruising and raw.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to shake it off, push away the fear that’s planted itself in my body, growing like a weed. It’s no use, my thoughts keep circling back to blue eyes - piercing, even under the shadow of his cap.

There was something unsettling about the way he appeared.

Not the man I pinned to the wall. Him.

The one who showed up out of nowhere. No warning, no change in the air. Just there, all at once. His movements were smooth, calm - comfortable. The opposite to my racing heartbeat and sweaty palms, the knife slipping out of my unstable grip.

What if he hadn’t shown up?

I cut off that thought.

No, I can handle myself. I did handle myself.

One question gnaws at me, though: why was he there at all?

I remember his voice: low, rough, certain.

“No,” he denies quickly, with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Then nods towards the older man, held beneath the tip of my knife. “I was following him.”

I blink open my eyes.

Not me.

Him.

It makes no sense. Maybe he was lying.

Unless… unless he knew.

Knew what was going to happen.

Knew what he was going to do.

But how?

I blow out another breath, this one shaky, and push myself out of my chair. My legs protest, stiff and unsteady but I push forward, ignoring the strain as I walk across the lab. I pull down my coat and bag from the hook by the door, my fingers clumsy with exhaustion.

I don’t look back at my workstation. I know that if I do, I’ll sit back down and lose myself in more work. More data. More numbers. More stress. It might help take my mind off the near miss, ease that growing fear a little.

But my work won’t give me answers. Not the kind I want.

__________

The cold hits me the second I step outside. I clench my teeth and pull my jacket tighter around me.

Halden Biotech looms behind me. Its mirrored walls no longer reflect the city, just the dark. Just me.

I look away quickly.

The wind picks up as I walk. I quicken my pace, my head lowered, cowering against the chill.

A few blocks pass until I realise I’m not paying attention.

My steps slow. I blink up at a street sign and my stomach sinks.

This isn’t the way home. Not even close.

I’m headed towards Maggie’s.

I stop walking entirely.

My body’s unconscious wandering feels more chilling than the wind pressing against my back.

I check my watch.

10:21pm.

My brows pull together. I’m turning back to head back the right way. But something stops me. I pause, mid-turn, my hair whipping around me.

What if he’s there?

I stand there, on the street corner, caught between home and possibility of - what? Seeing him? Getting answers to questions I don’t even know how to ask?

The air bites my skin but I barely feel it.

All I feel is that tug in my chest. That curious, irrational, persistent need to know more.

I just stand there - caught in a cloud of my own exhaustion and curiosity.

And then, I move.

My steps are quicker now as the tiredness bleeds away, lost in the next gust of wind. Something different, harder to name, pulls me forward, keeps my feet moving.

The streets blur past, streetlights, people, storefronts. I pass them all without seeing.

I reach Maggie’s faster than I expect.

The neon red sign, flickering above the entrance. The windows are fogged up. I can’t see in.

I release a few quick breaths, suddenly aware of how fast my heart is beating.

My feet pause at the door.

What am I even doing here?

I shake my head. I could turn around now and go home, it would be safer, it would be smarter. My visit here last night didn’t end well - why did I expect this one would be better?

But -

There’s that tug again. It’s the researcher in me. The scientist. There’s a variable here I don’t understand. It’s in my nature to dig, to prod, until I’ve figured it out. Until I’ve solved the mystery.

I let out another breath, shuddering, this time. Then move, reaching for the handle and turning the cold metal in my hand.

The bell clatters against the doorframe.

Warm air hits me immediately, washing over my body in a soft wave as I step inside.

The smell of bitter, cheap coffee. Maggie, behind the counter, messing with the machine. My eyes sweep over the room and then -

Him.

I freeze.

There, tucked in the same corner as last night, blue eyes lock onto mine.

The door shuts behind me. I flinch, looking away, breaking the connection.

Maggie doesn't pay me any mind, as I stand, frozen in the entrance. But he does. He’s watching, assessing. I feel the weight of his gaze on me.

The soft hum of the diner is a dull background noise, fading to nothing as my heartbeat invades my ears.

I glance towards the counter. Then back to him.

There’s a stillness in the way he sits, in the way he stares. His posture is relaxed but everything about him screams tension.

I swallow, my throat dry, as I try to rationalise my decision to come back here, to purposefully position myself back into the line of his icy gaze.

My feet move before I know what I’m doing. I push down the panic crawling up my throat as my shoes thud across the vinyl floor, then pause, in front of the man’s table.

When I look up, his eyes are still there, waiting, watching. Now, though, they roam. Scanning up and down my body once, twice. His gaze doesn’t linger. It’s sharp, cold. Analytical, like he’s searching for something.

I tighten my hand around my bag strap.

His eyes narrow, just slightly.

“Last night,” I rush out, before I lose the nerve. “Why were you following that man?”

A beat passes without an answer.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move a single muscle.

It’s uncanny, the stillness.

Then, finally, his head tilts. Just a little, barely a recognition that I said anything at all.

Embarrassment floods me, fast and burning hot. My cheeks heat, as my eyes flick to the door.

This was a mistake.

I shake my head, sharp and quick, and turn -

“Thought he might try something�� I was right,” the man finally replies, his voice low and rough, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while.

I pause my movement, my head whipping towards him.

He straightens in his seat, eyes flickering over me again.

My mouth opens and closes without a word. I don’t know what I expected him to say. His answer is plausible, understandable. Of course it is, there was no reason to think otherwise.

It was just the way he appeared last night. Like a ghost, emerging from the shadows. His face, emotionless, steady, detached. Then his eyes, wide and shocked.

It was the way he stepped forward, disabling the older man in one casual, easy move. His gloved hand around his throat.

It was the way he barked at me. To take the knife, to leave.

The memory was addictive. Alluring. Alarming.

“Oh,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to the table. “Well,” I say, my voice unsteady. “Thanks.”

Inside, I groan, wishing the floor would swallow me up.

“Don’t need to thank me,” the man says, looking away. “You had him handled.”

His words catch me off guard. I let out a short, almost involuntary laugh, not sure whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.

“Yeah,” I start, glancing up at him, “until I didn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence. I don’t know where to look. He’s staring at me again, his eyes locked into mine. His face is unreadable, the only crack is the slight crease between his brows. A whisper of something - confusion? Curiosity?

The silence is cutting, dragging on. It’s my cue to leave, to end this strange meeting. I duck my head, ready to turn and make my escape.

Then his voice cuts through the air, louder this time, more urgent:

“Still got that knife?”

I freeze. My hand instinctively brushes the strap of my bag, where my knife is still tucked inside.

I swallow hard, throat tight.

“Yeah,” I reply, shifting on my feet. “Still got it.”

The man nods and something like approval echoes in the slight curl of his lips.

“Good,” he says, lifting his coffee mug to his lips and taking a drink. My eyes linger on his gloved hand.

The sight of it reminds me of its tight grip on the older man’s throat.

I blink and look away.

“Okay - um - have a good night,” I stutter out and turn, walking towards the door in quick, mortified steps.

As I push the door open, the bell chimes overhead. A sharp gust of the night air is a balm to my burning skin.

Before I step out into the cold, I take one last glance over my shoulder, just a flicker, and I see it. The man is rising from his chair.

I don’t linger - I don’t look back again.

The red glow of the Maggie’s sign barely touches my skin before I’m off.

The air bites at my face as my mind replays the conversation over and over again.

His low, careful words. Those eyes - blue and piercing.

I walk quicker, shoulders hunched in my coat.

No alleyway shortcuts tonight.

The streets are quiet, mostly empty. Just the occasional couple, curled into each other, escaping the cold.

I can’t pinpoint when I start to feel it. That feeling at the back of my neck, like a soft touch. Like someone is watching me.

It’s a shift in the air, a change in pressure.

I don’t hear footsteps. I don’t need to.

I can’t explain it - but I’m sure I’m not alone in the dark.

Unlike last night, it doesn’t scare me. It should, but I don’t reach for my knife.

My steps remain steady, I don’t walk quicker. I don’t turn around.

Somewhere behind me, unseen, he walks too.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe I’ve reached that stage where I’m imagining things. My heartbeat slows when I realise that makes sense.

But the sensation clings to me for the rest of the walk home.

Like I’m being observed.

Like I’m being protected.

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heyyyyy thanks for reading!!!! stay tuned for extreme yearning

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