This is War (Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x reader)

Chapter Thirteen

"Who in hell is y/n?"

Ignoring the searing pain just below his ribcage, Bucky hauled himself to his feet. Hydra's Demon watched him, her eyes were cold and void of all emotion.

They spent a moment staring at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move, then they both lunged forward. Both former assassins were equal in skill and each had disarmed their opponent within the first few seconds.

Hydra's Demon was fast and nimble, but the Winter Soldier was superior in both strength and size. They were fairly evenly matched, except for the fact that one was unwilling to cause any harm to his adversary while the other was aiming to kill.

Without warning, she spun and kicked him hard in the side. He let out a low growl of pain but didn't falter, even as pain lanced through the bullet wound in his side, and retaliated by catching her wrist in a vice-like grip and shoving her away from him. She hit the ground hard, but was on her feet in an instant and going after him once again.

"Y/n!" He panted, blocking three successive attacks and ducking underneath a high kick that had been aimed at his head. Noticing the faint glint of light off metal in his opponent's hand out of the corner of his eye as he got back to his feet. He just managed to slip out of the way as she threw the knife, just missing his throat as he caught it by the blade in his left hand.

"Stop! Y/n, please, before one of us gets hurt!" he pleaded.

"Fine then," she snarled, throwing a punch with he caught and grabbing his other wrist to hold the knife in his hand to her own throat. "Kill me. That's the only way you'll survive this."

"No," he breathed, his voice shaking as she glared at him without any recognition in her e/c eyes.

"Pathetic," she hissed, wrenching the knife from his grip.

He felt before he saw the blade bite into his right shoulder and bit back a cry of pain. She pulled the blade harshly from the wound, but before she could stab him again, he caught both of her wrists and spun around behind her, pinning both her hands behind her back. She tried to twist her wrists from his grasp, but his grip was far too strong.

"Y/n," he said between heavy breaths. "I'm not going to fight you."

"Then let me kill you!" She snapped back, turning her head to look at him.

"To what end?" he asked, his voice betraying his desperation. "Karpov's dead. Hydra's gone. They can't control you anymore."

"Karpov's dead?" Her tone conveyed neither sorrow nor triumph, but rather a mixture of the two. "Did you kill him?"

Resting the knife from her grip, he slowly let her wrists go and she spun to look at him. "Did you kill him?" She questioned more firmly.

"No," he admitted. "But I would have if I'd gotten the chance."

A strange look passed over her face, this time not triumph or sorrow, not even anger. She just looked... lost.

He took a careful step forward, letting the knife fall from his hand so the only weapon on his person was the second handgun in a holster at his side. She didn't back away or show any signs of hostility, so he stepped close enough to reach out, his hands hovering just above her arms for a few seconds before he let his hands rest just below her shoulders. "Y/n," he breathed, his eyes and voice almost pleading. "Come back to me, doll."

Her eyes met his, and she took a small step closer, one of her hands rested on his left shoulder and she tilted her head to the side slightly. Then her gaze hardened, her jaw tensed, and she shoved him away, holding his own gun in her hand. She levelled the weapon at his chest, and he sighed in resignation.

"Go ahead, shoot me," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I won't stop you."

"Nat, we've got to go in," Steve insisted, as he had been for the past five minutes since the group of what he suspected were three former Hydra agents had come running out of the passageway. "What if something's gone wrong?"

Natasha sighed and turned away from the three men who'd emerged from the tunnel. Without warning, she spun back around and raised a gun, her eyes hard. "What did you do with them?" She demanded harshly.

The three remained stoically silent. Natasha turned off the safety and her eyes narrowed. "Don't think I won't shoot," she said quietly. Dangerously.

"It didn't go as planned," one of them muttered. "He was more dangerous than we thought."

"What did you do with y/n?" Sam spoke up, glaring at the three men.

"There was a book with some sort of trigger words – or something – in it-"

Before he even finished, Natasha whirled around looking over her shoulder at Steve and Sam. "We have to go, now." She didn't wait for either of them to follow, just started down the tunnel at a brisk walk.

Steve and Sam exchanged a glance. "What about them?" Sam nodded to the prisoners.

"Leave them," Steve said. "They won't do much harm."

Then both men set off after Natasha.

I don't want to kill him.
You have to.
I don't want to be a killer anymore.
You don't get a choice.
I don't want him to die!
Too bad.

She gritted her teeth, glaring at her target. The silent turmoil in her mind raged on and she could feel a migraine coming on. Her finger tightened on the trigger, but her hands shook.

"Y/n," Bucky said softly. "It's ok." He let out a shuddering breath. "It's ok. I know it's not your fault."

There was still no recognition in her gaze, and all at once, her gaze turned to a glare, her jaw clenched. She aimed. And pulled the trigger.

"Y/n!"

She turned her glare on the newcomers, specifically Natasha, who recognised the danger signs and went straight on the offensive. The two women fought back and forth for only a few seconds before Natasha got the upper hand and managed to hit her opponent hard on the back of the neck, rendering her unconscious.

Steve and Sam burst into the room in the last few seconds of the fight. Steve looked from your unconscious form on the floor, to Bucky, who was leaning heavily against the wall, one hand pressed to a bullet wound in his stomach. "What happened?" Steve demanded.

Natasha didn't answer, instead, she looked at Bucky. "You ok?"

"Fine," he gritted, pain evident in his voice.

Steve went to his friend's side and put his arm around Bucky's shoulders, but Bucky shook him off. "I don't need help," he muttered, biting back a groan as he stood a little straighter and glanced at you.

"Oh, please," Natasha said icily. "If you weren't enhanced, you'd be dead by now."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance, then Steve bent down to pick up your unconscious form, one arm under your shoulders and the other under your knees. Bucky nodded his thanks, and the small group made their way out, towards the Wakandan jet.