Jay

Chapter 8

{A/N: Okay, so yet another month has passed by, and here's another update! Merry Christmas!! I'm so sorry for the millionth time. Trying to keep up with this has become difficult since I've been trying to write the last part, and the writer's block is vicious. But, here's chapter 8, and there's about 4 chapters left until I start Part 3. Thank you for your patience!!!

~S}

"It was him," Steve said. "He looked right at me. He didn't even know me."

"How's that even possible?" Sam asked. "It was, like, 70 years ago."

"You realize you're looking at a super soldier and a super-powered lab experiment, right?" I asked Sam.

"Zola," Steve said. "Bucky's unit was captured in '43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall." Steve looked up, and he seemed to have a revelation. "They must have found him-"

I knew immediately where he was going with that line of thought. If they found him, then Steve could have found him. Saved him from whatever happened. So I cut him off. "None of that was your fault Steve," I told him.

"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky," Steve said.

I nodded, and leaned my head back, trying to block out the pain. The bullet was lodged in my shoulder. My body couldn't heal itself around it, which was making it hurt even more. My body was replacing the blood I was losing, and stopping infection. I needed to get it out of me. It was likely though, that I would be dead long before that happened. Hydra wasn't going to take any prisoners.

"We need to get a doctor here," Sam said. "If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's going to bleed out."

The guard pointed the zappy thingy at him. Then they flipped it around and tasered the other guard.

I lifted a brow at them, and they pulled their helmet off. It was Hill.

"That thing was squeezing my brain," Hill said.

I laughed. "So you're our knight in shiny armor for today, Hill?"

She glared at me, and then looked at Sam. "Who's this guy?" she asked.

"A friend," Steve said.

***

After the unpleasant experience of escaping through a hole in the bottom of the car, something I've never done with a gsw - and hope to never do again - we got into a car ready to go to a safe house.

As we drove, Sam tended as best he could to my wound. Until we got wherever we were going, and Steve could pull the bullet out, it was going to be a difficult trip.

When we got there, Steve and Sam helped me out of the car, and then we walked to the door, Steve's arm wrapped around my waist on one side, Sam's hand on my back on the other.

Hill opened the door, and I saw a doctor running down the hall.

"We've got a gsw, she's lost at least a pint," Hill said.

"Maybe two," Sam said.

"I don't need a fucking doctor, I need peroxide, tongs, and Steve to stop freaking out long enough to pull this thing out of me," I growled. Hill gave me a look that said not to argue. Of course, I was going to, but it's the thought that counts. I guess.

"Let me take her!" the doctor said.

"Like hell," I ground out.

"She'll want to see him first," Hill said.

"See who?" Steve asked.

We walked into a room that looked like a makeshift hospital. In the bed lied Nick Fury, awake.