Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Cross Country

Warnings - Mentions of breeding/rape, torture, memory problems, self doubt, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, murder, death, blood, needles, angsty, trust issues, reader is described as left handed

I promise you guys this is not a reader x Bucky ship. Reader is 14.

Heavily inspired by The Last of Us.

I started writing this last April and just finished it 💀But there will be a second part!!

Bucky's back hits the floor in some form of pain and uncomfortable manner. His shoulder is immediately put back into place, the pop sounding throughout the room he barely remembers how he got into, and the communication device he was wearing shatters to the floor underneath a foot, groaning as he pushes to get up again.

Sam was somewhere on the other side of the country, and looking at the walls, he's back in a cell he's been in for the past sixty years. The floors are the same, the blood still tormenting him even as he spits out the pool that's filled his mouth.

How he got separated is beyond him, but he gets up quickly, tackling whatever Hydra agent decided to mock him to the ground and smashing his face in with only four punches with his new metal arm.

The lights around are already blinking with alarm, and Bucky tries his best to move through it, eyes still fogged with whatever the hell he was hit with in the field. The moment he's in the hallways, he's only met with more agents, and almost a dozen people in surgeon gowns, masks strewn across their faces as they wheel a gurney his direction.

His metal arm shifts from the connected anger, and in moments, bullets are flying, and he has a knife in his hand, feet carrying him to the limp body he can only see from under the sheet. Blood splatters on the wall, and he swings, tripping the wheel to tip over the gurney.

Bucky only has moments to recollect himself when he sees the kid roll on the floor, wires connecting her to a multitude of things. A doctor is quick to stab her chest with a syringe, and he takes no chance to grab the nearest gun and shoot, cursing to himself when he sees the plunger already halfway down.

There are things Bucky can handle, but kids in bases were always the exception. His heart can't take the breakage when he sees the bruises and needle pokes and tear streaks from where they must've been in pain and used.

It's been weeks since he's come across anyone under the age of fifteen, but seeing you, barely conscious but alive makes him regret ever thinking about leaving without the thought ever coming across his mind of checking for other expirements. Sure, Bucky normally looks around, but he's lost. Badly.

Sam had disconnected with him awhile ago, and now he was back in a base, fighting the same fight he has been for over eighty years. People have been in his shoes, but a slightly different size, forced to endure the same thing he'd been through, but somehow, he was the favorite.

The soldier.

The man who would save society.

The puppet.

Bucky can see the bruises, how deep they are around your wrists and ankles, most likely you putting up a fight. You're alive, meaning he'd have to get out of this with you.

Quickly, he's getting off his ass, sliding through the crowd of agents to get closer to you, protect you at least a little until you're coherent enough to run. The doctor was dead, leaving the few people in scrubs to pull their own guns on him.