James Buchanan Barnes Imagines

Tilting towards reality

Okay, in this one the scenes from catws is a bit different, the hellicarrier scene isn't included in this one and ya know....it's different soooooo.......read if you want? God, this took me forever and it's shitty 😫

P.S. the first two eps of tfaws= crying

Status of the text: Long.

Warning: Cussing, blood, gore.

Word count: 6902

Coming back from your recent mission they moved you to a different room. This room was darker, smaller, and surprisingly cleaner. The mask on your face making it difficult to breathe, you were pushed in and they slammed the door shut. Your black suit making it a bit uncomfortable to maneuver in. The bullet wound in your side was unbearably painful. You ripped off the mask, able to breathe and threw it across the room having it hit the wall.

There was blood on your hands, your hair, and splats of it on your suit. Taking a deep breath, you used the wall for support as you slid down it, careful of you side. That little kid, that family you had to kill. You didn't know why you had to but you didn't question it either. You wouldn't dare make such a ridiculous and stupid move. Getting to work on your wound, you found a couple of supplies something that was useful. The last couple of months were just you, missions, the cell, and torture. That route went over and over and over that it's practically indented in your brain. In the time of your wait, your door opened. You were fully prepared to walk out the door when they threw in someone else. Same suit, shoulder length hair, metal arm, and the same mask on his face. You watched as the guy scrambled to a corner, shaking.

"Не выпускай его из виду. Понял?" (Don't let him out your sight. Understood?) A voice questioned.

"Да." (Yes.) You answered tilting your head down as a sign of correction.

Pleased, they left the room and shut the door. The guy still cradled in the corner, the shadows took over the upper half of his body. You watched as the blood trailed from him to the cracks in the floor. He was whimpering in pain, has this guy not be taught to shut up? Have the not molded him yet?

You slowly made your way over to him. Your eyes studying his every move. Waiting to see if he'd attack. He didn't move away from you but he instead, tensed. Silently praying you wouldn't hurt him, he took a deep breath preparing for the worst. You bent down on your knees infront of him, slowly reaching out to his wound. You were sure their were lots more but, this one was most likely the biggest. A huge cut indented on his leg, it was deep, deeper that you thought. Breaking through at least 3 layers of tissue, he was going to bleed out and die if he didn't do something.

"Давай я тебе помогу." (Let me help you.) You mumbled looking at his eyes that were peaking through the shadows.

"Почему? Значит, вы можете сделать это снова и снова?" (Why? So you can do it all over again?) His voice was strained, the wound was killing him more than the wound itself.

"Если я этого не сделаю, ты умрешь. Это не моя работа, причинять тебе боль, моя работа, наблюдать за тобой." (If I don't you, you will die. It's not my job to hurt you, it's my job to watch you.)

He was going to protest when he felt his leg go numb and his eyes get heavy. He nodded, not sure how his answer from his voice would come out. You grabbed the supplies and began working on his leg. It would take sometime before he could use it again, before it heals. He hissed and squirmed under the pain and pressure you had to put on it, if you saw his face he would probably be silently crying. You would be too. This wasn't an easy fix, not like a bullet, and not like a knife cut. This was severe damage to his body.