The Mimic

143

"Help him!" Y/n screamed as loud as she possibly could, the Wakandan jet landing in the field. Instead of the overwhelming relief that she should've been feeling, y/n was coursing with adrenaline and desperation. Bucky was dying in her arms. There wasn't time to process that they'd been saved.

Y/n watched as T'Challa, Shuri, and the Dora Milaje raced off of the jet, all rushing toward them as fast as they could. She moved her focus back to Bucky, keeping his head cupped in her hands as she shook him slightly. "Hey, stay with me. Keep those eyes open." She begged, pushing his eyes open with her thumbs. "They're here! They're here to save us!" Y/n exclaimed in a wavering whisper. She was trying her hardest to reassure Bucky and keep him awake, but it wasn't working. He'd already seemed to accept the situation, but y/n wasn't giving up. "Come on, Buck. They're right here. Right here."

Bucky was barely conscious. His vision was far too blurred to even make out any features on y/n's face, and his hearing was muffled enough to make it feel as if he were underwater. He was fading. He was fading right in front of y/n's eyes. His breathing became more and more shallow and laboured as time ticked on, and his body was almost completely limp. He'd lost far too much blood. However, a tired smile was still plastered across his face.

For Bucky, this was a good way to die. Of course his main plan was to grow old with y/n, but that didn't seem to be happening. He'd accepted what was going to happen, and if y/n was going to be the last face that he saw, he was happy. The short amount of time that he'd had with y/n had been perfect. They'd created so many memories together, good and bad. She was his soulmate, and dying in her arms seemed like the perfect way to let go. "Save that seat on the bus for me, okay?" He whispered weakly.

But, before y/n could respond, she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders. She was slowly pulled to her feet and away from Bucky, watching through blurred vision as Shuri and the Dora Milaje begun to work on saving him. The pair of hands belonged to T'Challa, and, as soon as she realised that, she allowed herself to completely break down.

T'Challa had always acted like an older brother to y/n. He'd helped her control and develop her powers for months on end. So, alongside Natasha and Bucky, T'Challa was one of the people that knew the most about y/n's past. He knew about her triggers, he knew about her nightmares, he knew everything. There had been times where training sessions had taken a very emotional turn - whether it be y/n realising the root of certain traumas, or if it had just been a hard day and y/n needed to let her anger out. He was always there. Always there to listen and give advice, always there to be a shoulder for y/n to cry on.

Right now, y/n needed that shoulder, and he knew it.

Y/n turned around to face T'Challa, almost immediately burying her face into his shoulder as she broke down into sobs. Now that Bucky was being treated, y/n was finally able to focus on herself and not force a reassuring smile. It was almost like a tidal wave of emotions. Sadness, guilt, stress, desperation, fear - all mixing and combining to completely overwhelm her, leaving y/n to crumble into T'Challa's hold.

It felt as if she'd been hoisted out of the water after almost drowning. Every sound was heightened, every possible thought was running through her mind at full speed, and every breath was laboured and shaky. Her whole body heaved with every breath, desperately gasping for air between sobs. It was all too much for y/n. Bucky had almost died in this field before, and here they were again. The same blood-stained grass, the same guilty person. But y/n wasn't in the right headspace to vocalise any of it. She could barely breathe, let alone talk. All she needed was to be held, and T'Challa was doing exactly that.

T'Challa had a pained look in his eyes as y/n sobbed into his shoulder. He held her close, a protective hand on the back of her head whilst the other rubbed her back. It hurt his heart to see y/n so broken, especially because he knew that there was nothing he could say. She would speak when she wanted to, all T'Challa needed to do was be there for her. He had always viewed y/n as a younger sister, so seeing her crumble so heavily was tough. She'd been through so much, she deserved happiness, but happiness never seemed to last in y/n's life.

His eyes stayed trained on Shuri and the Dora Milaje as they worked on treating Bucky and moving him to the jet. T'Challa knew that he was going to be okay, so did y/n, hell, he'd probably be up and walking by tomorrow with the help of Wakandan tech, but this seemed to be something far more deep rooted for y/n. It had triggered something, and T'Challa didn't know what it was.

*****

Several hours passed in a blur, and it was soon the early hours of the morning.

Bucky was fine. He'd been treated by Shuri, and after a few blood transfusions, he was completely patched up. He was fast asleep in one of the medical bays of Shuri's lab, drugged up to the ceiling on medication so his body had time to heal and recover. She knew Bucky far too well to keep him awake, he'd want to get up and find y/n straight away, but his body needed to recover. 

Y/n had also been instructed to rest, but she couldn't. Not after everything that had just happened. So, she was sat on one of the ledges of the training room, a blanket wrapped around her and a mug of hot chocolate cupped securely in her hands. She was staring at the wall opposite her, completely lost in thought.

Luckily, she hadn't been seriously injured. There had been a few deep cuts here and there, but most of it was just heavy bruising and a few grazes. Everything was stiff and sore, and she had deep bruises covering most of her back and her sides. It was all because of that jump from the apartment building. God, they'd hit the ground hard. But, y/n was okay. She always seemed to be okay. Everyone except her seemed to get injured. It felt weird.

That was one of the reasons why she couldn't sleep. She felt like the root of the problem. Everything revolved around her, yet she never seemed to get seriously injured. Even in the Lagos incident, there were people far more injured than her. People died. The only real damage that seemed to inflict y/n was the mental damage. Everything haunted her, and today just seemed to prove that even more.

It was all her fault. It was always her fault.