Saving Bucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

*Chapter 108 - Finally Spoken, Finally Sung*

Soft baby-blues stand in contrast to the all-black battle gear James wears. His hair, pulled half back, is sweaty and tangled - some of the strands have fallen out of place, framing the crimson smudges on his face. And his combat boots are caked in mud.

He's dirty, and covered in blood that isn't his own. 

Your hallucination has never looked like this before. 

"Buck?" you exhale. Not daring to hope. Not yet.

"Yeah, baby," he says in a broken whisper. "I'm here."

"Y-you...you've said that before," you say, curling you fingers tighter around the handle of your knife. "But it's never really been you."

"Doll," he says, taking a step closer. "I've been tryin' to-,"

"Stop!" you snap, holding up a hand to stop him - to stop the inevitable pain that comes with closeness. "Don't," you say voice breaking. 

James' hand twitches at his side as if he longs to reach for you. But he doesn't move. Instead he speaks, soft and slow, while keeping his distance. "Tell me what you need," he pleads.

Your grip tightens on your knife. "Catch," you whisper. 

Without warning you hurl your knife at James. The blade flies through the air, and you expect this hallucination to disappear. But in a single, fluid motion James lifts his hand and catches it. 

He catches it.

You inhale sharply as James takes a step closer. Then another. Until he's a breath away, and two, warm fingers slide beneath your chin. 

"Marco," he whispers, pulling your chin up to meet his eyes for the first time. Swimming in bright, misty blue tears. 

"Polo," you exhale, tentatively reaching for his face, letting your fingertips graze him. 

"Hi, doll," he says, catching your hand and pressing it flat against his cheek. "I'm right here," he says. "It's me."

He's warm. 

A million questions swirl around in your chaotically full head. But none of them are more important than simply feeling him. Suddenly frantic, you pull your hand away from his cheek and start yanking at the zipper of his jacket. James helps your trembling fingers, unzipping it the rest of the way and peeling it off, tossing it aside. And you don't stop there. You grab at his t-shirt and force it over his head, leaving him bare chested.

James is bruised. Dark, nasty welts bleed across his torso. Evidence of violence.

"There was a fight," he says, following your eyes to his bruises. "I finished it, and came straight here."

"You...found me?" you question.

"Steve knew where you were," James explains.

"N-no...no," you say, shaking your head, breath coming in weak, short pants. "I was supposed to find you, Buck. B-but, I...I couldn't find you," you say, lip trembling as you choke back tears, and your hands turn to angry, defeated fists. "I couldn't find you, Buck," you cry, knees going week and giving out as your entire body collapses under the weight of the emotional burden you've been carrying.

James finally abolishes any distance between you, catching you as you fall and pulling you into his embrace. He holds you tight as you gasp for air between your sobs. "Shh," he hushes, stroking your hair as you cry into his chest.

"I-I looked everywhere," you choke through sobs, clinging to him desperately. "I tried so hard, b-but I couldn't-," your words get stuck in your throat, somewhere behind the tears.