Doll. // Bucky Barnes X OC

NINETEEN

"Bucky? What's her status?" Bruce chimed in through the comms as Nat was planting explosives around the base.

Quickly taking out agents as Bucky was behind her, carrying a limp Melany.

"Unconscious." Bucky replied. "But she's alive."

"Get her out, now." Bruce replied, strain in his voice.

"Working on it!" Nat said, opening the exit for Bucky to walk through. "We have to move fast, the base is going to go down in two minutes."

Bucky nodded, cradling Melany's head against his chest as he and Nat ran back to the jet.

The explosions behind them were loud as they continued to run, as far as they could away from the blast.

Once on the jet, Bucky placed Melany on a bench near the rear of the jet, closest to the door. "Mel..."

She was still breathing, her bandages slowly getting darker with blood.

"We need to check for exit wounds on those bullets. And change her dressings." Nat said from the front of the jet, at the cockpit. She closed the jet, and was set off to the compound within minutes. "There's a first aid kit in the left cabinet back there."

Bucky frantically stood, keeping his eyes on her as he grabbed the first aid kit. Nat was at her side just as fast, removing the current bandages. "Fuck..." She said, blood coming faster than she expected.

"Nat." Bucky said, voice strained as he watched Melany bloodied and bruised. He crouched down, helping Nat turn her on her side to get a glimpse of any exit wounds. Nat checked both while Bucky held her. "Check both."

"Both through and through." Nat sighed, grabbing the gauze and wrapping her thigh first, not too tight to cut off circulation but enough to stop the bleeding. Same with her shoulder.

Bucky rolled her back over onto her back. He grabbed her hand, watching her chest rise and fall.

"Bruce," Nat said, getting his attention. "She's safe, and we changed her dressings. She's going to be fine."

"Any bullet fragments?"

"Not that we could see."

"We'll need to run some tests when you get back. I'll be at the hangar with a stretcher, just get her back here alive..." Bruce said, relief in his voice.

Bruce stayed on the line until the jet touched down.

The ride back felt longer than the extraction itself.

Bucky didn't let go of her hand.

He sat on the floor beside the bench, one knee braced against the metal, her fingers threaded through his like an anchor. Every shallow breath she took scraped through his chest. He counted them. Lost count. Started again.

Her skin was cold beneath his palm.

"Stay with me," he murmured, not caring if she could hear him or not. "You don't get to tap out now. Not after all that."

Nat glanced back once from the cockpit, her jaw tight. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

When the jet finally jolted as it landed, Bucky's heart slammed against his ribs hard enough to hurt. The rear door hadn't even finished lowering before Bruce was there—too fast, lab coat discarded, hands already reaching.

"Easy," Bruce said, voice steady but eyes wrecked as he took in the blood. "I've got her. I've got her."

Medics rushed forward with the stretcher, but Bruce waved them back just long enough to kneel beside her.