The room was suffocating, thick with the stench of metal, sweat, and blood as you blinked through the haze of pain clouding your mind. Every nerve in your body screamed, fire pulsing through every battered muscle. Your wrists ached where the rope bit into your skin, keeping you bound to the chair Pierce had tied you to. The last thing you remembered was his voice—calm, cruel—as he crouched beside you, smirking as the red light of the camera blinked to life.

"This should get their attention," he mused, gripping your chin with bruising force, forcing you to look into the lens. "Stark thinks you're dead. Let’s see how he reacts when he realizes we’ve had you all this time."

Far from the Hydra base that had been your prison, the Avengers' meeting room fell into silence as a trembling SHIELD agent rushed inside, her face pale. "Sir," she gasped, looking straight at Fury. "You need to see this."

The screen flickered, and then there you were—bound, bruised, barely conscious. The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved. No one spoke. Until Tony pushed back his chair so hard it nearly toppled over. His breath hitched, his expression crumbling as he stepped closer, his fingers trembling at his sides.

"This is my sister." His voice was barely above a whisper. "She’s supposed to be dead."

Steve swore under his breath. Natasha's expression darkened. Even Sam looked shaken. But Fury only exhaled sharply before turning to Bucky, his expression unreadable.

"Time to return a favor, Barnes."

Bucky's stomach twisted. His blue eyes remained locked on the screen, on you, and suddenly, memories he had tried so hard to bury clawed their way to the surface.

You.

He knew you.

"You have to go," you had whispered urgently, pressing a stolen gun into his palm. "Before they find out what I've done."

You hadn’t hesitated. You had shoved him toward freedom while sacrificing your own.

And now, after all these years, you were the one bound to a chair. You were the one who needed saving.