The Archangel (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter Thirty Nine

*Bucky POV*

Waking up, he was groggy and his everything hurt. It took several minutes to make sure all his body parts were intact after such a fall. It seemed as if his metal arm had taken the brunt of the impact. Now, not only were two of his fingers immovable, but the metal of what remained of his arm was caved in and had several bullet holes in it, and everything below the middle of his forearm was sheared off, the stump sparking from where the wires should have connected but were violently torn off.

He opened his eyes, looking up at a sky that was raining fire maybe a half mile east. He shot straight up, groaning as he did, but ignored his pains as he looked around for Angel. Not spotting her, he failed twice to stumble to his feet as he called out, "Angel! Where are you?" His ears were ringing slightly but he swore he heard her call back to him. "Angel?"

"Over here!" Her voice broke through the noise, raising an arm to signal him. Unsure exactly how injured she might be, he went running toward her, slightly unstable on his feet as the world spun around him. He slid over the grass, into her sight and they both immediately assessed each others condition. He was intact, a few scratches and bruises, nothing more, though his metal arm had taken quite the beating from the fall.

"There's still time, Shuri can fix you up, maybe we can still get you to Wakanda." Who was he kidding? Her wings were twisted and fractured from the fall, not to mention the bullet holes, and she had a gunshot wound in her side that hadn't stopped bleeding. He could already see the effects the blood loss was having on her. He pressed his hand to her side, trying to stop or at least slow the bleeding.

He growled into the comms, "I need medical evac to Wakanda ASAP." When no one responded, he called, "hello? Does anyone copy?" All he could hear was static, damn thing must've broke in the fall. Her hand on his arm brought his attention back to her, "they're coming, you just gotta hold on until they get here."

"I'm not gonna make it that long." She didn't look sad or scared as she said it, rather, she looked resigned to the fact, and his heart hurt all the more for it.

He glanced down at her wound as the blood gushed past his hand, the sight of his skin being stained by her gold tinted blood made him sick. He already had so much blood on his hands, but he never imagined that hers would join it. He returned his gaze to her face, unable to continue watching. "Why did you do it?" The desperation in his voice revealed a deep sorrow at recognizing that he was going to lose her. There was just too much blood and not enough time, his efforts did little to staunch the bleeding and there was nothing he could do. He would lose her, the one thing that he never knew he needed.

"Because without you, life is hardly worth living." She gasped out, struggling a little for breath. Funny how her words echoed his own sentiments. She replaced his hand with her own, trying to stop the bleeding herself so that she could hold tight onto his hand, "James?"

"Yeah?" He questioned, holding her hand as if his life depended on it.

"Promise me you'll go to Hawaii." He had been expecting many things, but that wasn't one of them. Looking into her eyes, he understood what she was trying to tell him. She wanted him to continue on . . . without her. To do all the things they planned together, just . . . without her.

He didn't want to make that promise, those were their plans, to do together, the both of them. He didn't know if he could do it alone, but he also couldn't deny her. Not this, not now. So he choked on the sob that was building in his chest and promised, "I will."

Angel winced and squeezed her eyes shut, "the world's spinning too fast, I can't see straight."

Her hand tightened around his, grasping for an anchor. "I'm here," he reassured as best he could, tightening his grip.

"So tired," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut with fatigue. He could physically feel the lifeforce draining from her through their connection.

"Angel, you gotta stay awake, alright?" At his urging, she fought to open her eyes, "keep those eyes open for me." She nodded but he could tell that the fatigue was getting to her. He was starting to notice the signs, the fatigue in particular was worrisome.

Growing desperate, he looked around wildly, straining his enhanced senses to see or hear for the approach of the med-evac they desperately needed. There was no sign of them, they were alone, Angel was dying, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Her eyes had fluttered shut a second time, so once more he urged her to keep her eyes open.

"Will you stay with me?" He could barely hear her murmur it was so soft. Her hand had grown cold and clammy under his and he could only watch as her vibrant metal skin was slowly leeched of color before fading beneath her real form.

"Always." He responded without hesitation.

She closed her eyes in relief and whispered, "thank you." He urged her eyes open again and maneuvered behind her so she could comfortably lean against his chest. He was by her side for what felt like hours as the minutes of her life slowly slipped by, he could feel it within his soul, and he could do nothing about it, helpless. In that time, he attempted to memorize every line and contour of her face. Had her eyes always been such a soft amber color? He couldn't seem to recall.

He felt a wetness on his cheekbones but didn't bother wiping the tear tracks away. The hand that had been over her wound came up, searching blindly. He guided her hand to his neck and she left a trail as she followed the contours of muscle up his neck and to his jaw where she wiped away his tears with her blood-slicked thumb. "It's okay, James . . . it's okay," she took a last shuddering breath, her hand going slack. Pain immediately erupted all throughout his body as he felt her heartbeat cease beneath his chest.

"Angel?" he questioned, hoping that his senses were playing tricks on him, "Angel?" He wasn't imagining it. When he finally worked up the courage to look into her eyes, there was no fire behind them, no soul.

She was gone.