The Archangel (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter Fifteen

We touched down just outside the door to the compound. I could feel Hydra's fog just waiting for me to slip up, to let go of my mentally shifted disassociation, but Bucky needed my help. He mattered far more than any building internal crisis of mine. I acted as his crutch so he could limp without further injuring his leg by unnecessarily putting weight on it.

We paused in the kitchen so Bucky could rest his leg. Dr. Banner was the only one awake at such an hour and was apparently making coffee. He calmly asked, "what happened?" as he stirred sugar into his mug.

"Dumbass got shot." Bucky looked slightly offended at the statement. It was a blunt insult to hide real concern for his wellbeing. "Don't you even start." Readdressing the doctor, "Can you help him?"

"I'm not really that kind of doctor," Banner muttered, "but, I'll do what I can. Tony cuts himself up occasionally, so we've had to stock up on basic medical supplies in the lab." Banner led the way down the hallway to the lab. I helped Bucky limp after Banner, he tried to hide his pain each time he took a step, but he was failing miserably.

I think he noticed my concerned look at the bloodied bandage. "I'm fine, Angel."

I smacked him over the head, "no, you're not, idiot."

"Thanks." He winced.

"You're welcome."

Banner called behind him, "please stop harming my patient." We entered the lab and I helped Bucky over to one of Tony's cleared off worktables. Bucky pulled himself up onto the table. "I need you to cut away the fabric." Banner handed me a pair of scissors and I cut the side of Bucky's pants up past the wound and ripped off the extra fabric at the upper thigh. Banner came over with sodium chloride to wash out the wound, "morphine won't work on him, so this is going to sting. Distract him please."

Without thinking about it, I pressed my lips to Bucky's. His natural scent was engulfed by the smell of sweat, blood, and gunpowder but I could still taste the peanut butter from earlier. I felt him tense and wince against me as the doctor started and begin to pull away slightly. I couldn't let that happen, I threaded my fingers through his long hair, tangling them instantly and pulled him closer. I nipped at his lower lip then soothed it by running my tongue across it.

I admit that I was teasing him but not in a malicious way, he was responding to my attention and not the pain as Doctor Banner cleaned the wound and stitched him up where necessary. I kept kissing him as Banner finished putting on a layer of gauze and taped it to his skin. "And . . . done." I took my time pulling away from him, putting our foreheads together and leaving a few lingering pecks on his lips. It seemed he effected me as much as I did him.

"You should kiss me more often." Bucky breathed, eyes closed, his breath lightly fanning across my face smelt like mint and had the hint of peanut butter I had tasted.

"You don't even have to ask." I murmured back, kissing him once more before pulling away, for now. "Is there anything else, Doctor?"

Banner looked up from a clipboard, "huh? Oh, no, just stay off the leg and make sure the wound stays clean, blast wound's have a high probability of infection. If something changes, let me know."

"You got it doc, I owe you one." I meant it.

"Uh, yeah, sure." He'd find a way to use his favor, probably. If not, I'd dispose of Tony and call it good.

"Come on, Buck," I beckoned, putting his arm around my shoulders and holding him up by the waist. He slid off the table and I took a good chuck of the weight off of his leg, to be honest I probably could've just carried him but I didn't want to bruise his pride. "Your room?" Bucky nodded through a wince.

I helped him limp out of the lab and down the hall to the residential rooms. He pushed the door open with his unoccupied arm and we got through the entrance with a bit of working and teamwork. He tried to steer us toward the couch but I prevented that from happening, "with your leg? I don't think so." He had no choice but to go along with me as I basically dragged him over to the bed and pushed him to sit on it.

"Fine, but you have to stay too." Knowing he'd just move to the couch if I didn't, I agreed. It's not like I'd really want to pass up on sleeping next to him anyway, he was warm, liked to cuddle, and he was Bucky, my three favorite attributes when it came to bed partners, particularly that last one. I made a shooing motion and he smirked as he made room for me on the bed.

I made sure Bucky was situated in a way that wouldn't harm his leg before curling up next to him. His arms immediately found their way around my torso and my head found one of his shoulders as my pillow.

Now, in the quiet of his room, I started to relax and I could feel my mindset slowly shifting away from the disassociation it had used to protect me and help Bucky. My wings came around and cocooned both of our bodies in a protective blanket of feathers. I buried my face into his shoulder as I tried not to reimagine—or I guess I should say remember—what had happened tonight. Even with Bucky's arms securely around me, I was terrified of what I'd see when I fell asleep.

I had killed before, but never by choice, I could always attribute the blood to someone else. Not this time. It was a snapped neck, a clean death, easy and painless. Some part of me thrashed wildly, screaming that he had deserved worse for daring to harm someone I cared for. But another part wondered if I really was as much a slave to Hydra as I thought I was. If I could kill so easily, to make the choice to kill and then carry out the action as if by second nature, then it was not the first time I had done so. How many had come before? Had it started small? Maybe an escaping witness or a bodyguard? How many times had I made the choice to kill without having the orders?

Unbidden, memories flashed through my mind. "You are the Archangel, you are merciless, kill this man." I was handed a gun, too young for such work, maybe seventeen, eighteen? I had refused. "Kill the man or I will harm you." When had they stopped using such threats? When had I started to comply? Another man, different day, I was handed the gun and without orders, shot him in the head, "Well done, Archangel, you will make a fine soldier." Had that been it? The first time I had killed without question? Without considering the consequences? There had to be thousands more; witnesses, bodyguards, police, anyone who got in my way, I was trained to kill without question and there was no part of me that wasn't revolted by the thought.