LEGACY: a bucky barnes story

Chapter 18 - Seize

As my chest and limbs gave out, a faint yet tight hand grasped my arm. Sudden, brilliant winds across my face replaced treacherous waters.

Someone was compressing my chest. Repeatedly. The powerful blows against my chest rained down with great ferocity. In a brief reprieve from the pain on my chest, soft lips brushed against mine. These gentle lips fell in stark contrast to crushing jolts, as they transferred breaths of life. The compressions continued. Strands of hair hung from my rescuer, tickling my face.

I sputtered the water inside my airways. Panic fuels my groping for breath, and the coughing fits inhale glorious air back into my lungs.

Regaining some regular breathing, I noticed he pulled me by my good shoulder—though the other still throbbed overpoweringly. He had grabbed by my forearm, avoiding my busted hand. The stinging skin pulsated from when my body was raked against the sandy pebbles. I turned my head and my eyes went round.

"Steve," I winced, crawling one-handed. "Steve, breathe, please wake up."

Bucky grabbed my waist, hoisting me farther from Steve.

"No—no! Steve! Steve, wake up! Wake up!" I thrashed in his grip, subdued only by injury and coughing fits.

He lifted me in his arms, struggling to keep me up. I wriggled and fought, throwing out the limbs that weren't as excruciatingly injured. But the pain won over, and I lost the energy to keep fighting.

"Steve! No! Steve, Steve please. Steve...no..."

...

I awoke curled up on a wooden floor. As I pushed myself upright, I noted the gauze wrapped strategically around my left pinky finger. My right shoulder too was wrapped efficiently with proper dressings. My right hand shot up to my nose, bumping its dressings and causing a painful, rippling flare up. But it felt set back straight, bandaged too. My hand grazed upon the torn fabric of my pants, up to my outer calf. The area just below my knee was bandaged.

Thankfully, all mending happened while I was unconscious—as the gashes would have been sewn shut. But there was no trace of my medic. He'd be a wanted man now, and my duty as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D is to bring him to justice. As I attempted to stand, the entrance of the building burst open. The Winter Soldier stalked inside and quickly shut the door.

I propped myself up against a wall. He declined to speak first, choosing to stand stoically against the door. I took the opportunity.

"Where are we?"

He stiffened, allowing silence to suffocate the space.

"What are-what happened to me?"

He seemed to almost reboot, straightening his posture and gauntly looking dead ahead. "Right shoulder, sutured a shallow laceration. Realigned dislocated nose. Left hand, cauterized half of fifth digit. Left calf to knee, deep laceration sutured."

I stared blankly with bile creeping up my throat. "You... burned my finger?"

He crossed his arms and leered toward the floorboards, speaking with a hushed tone. "I had to."

I nodded slowly and could feel my face draining of color. "And... the cuts ...how bad-how bad were they?"

His jaw tightened.

My eyes shot up. "Please, let me go."

He looked down.

"Let me contact someone, anyone—"

"No."

"Please, they need to know I'm alive! They can't think I'm... please, my sister and my brother—they'll be destroyed if they think I've—"

"No!" he hissed.

I exhaled sharply, dropping my head in defeat. With adrenaline pumping, I raised my gaze abruptly to meet his towering figure.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

He flinched, but remained silent.

"I was right there; I had the chip and could have dismantled the last helicarrier. You didn't take the chip, and you didn't kill me. Why?"

He clenched his jaw then drew his lower lip between his teeth. His glossy eyes remained distant—so I tried a new line of questioning.

"You had a chance to kill me again. I know you're a good enough shot to have killed me, but instead your bullets skimmed me.

"Or, you could have left me to die when the helicarrier fell. You pulled me and Steve from the river. But you didn't end there, did you? You took me. Why?"

Bucky glanced toward the ceiling, then shifted quickly toward the floor as he exhaled. Time stood still until he muttered a response, "Answers."

"What?"

"I need answers," his breath hitched, "Couldn't... carry him."

"So, you took me... because I was easier to transport?"

He fell silent again. I shifted my jaw back and forth through a heated inhale and exhale.

"Well, you say you need answers—but so do I. At least tell me why you think I could provide you the answers you so desperately want."

Bucky took a moment. I swear his eyes dilated before bowing his head sharply.

"Okay, I—," I blustered, letting my head hit the wall. "From what I know, you've undergone extensive brainwashing and intense manipulation. I don't know how much help I'd be... S.H.I.E.L.D. would be bett—"

"No! No... can't risk it." He exhaled heavily through his nose and balled his fists.

"Alright, I-I won't contact them," I stammered with hands raised, wincing as my shoulder stirred.

I shifted my position and cleared my throat. He picked up his head, eyes boring straight through mine without a trace of threat. The silence, however, grew unnerving.

"Um... thank you," I whispered.

He blinked and tilted his head slowly with his forehead wrinkled.

"For the—for the bandaging. I-I appreciate it," I faltered. He appeared utterly perplexed. His eyes continued searching for a moment or two. I tilted my gaze downward.

What have I gotten myself into?