Hell Bound

Six

I managed to slow the bleeding and got the wound sutured before I moved on to the other ones. Bucky had fallen unconscious before I finished. I only knew this because he was making a lot of pained noises for the first five minutes before going completely still and silent. I would have liked him to stay conscious, but neither of us could get him to respond, and if being jabbed with a needle wasn't working, I didn't know what would. Besides, it might be better for him to be out while I dug through the hole in his stomach with a pair of long metal tweezers.

He had another large piece of glass in the chest just below where his skin was fused with metal. I was afraid to dig it out, just in case it messed up his arm's functionality, but it didn't end up being very deep. The bleeding was minimal compared to the one in his abdomen. The rest of them were easier after that. The glass or chunks of metal and rocks were smaller and only required a few sutures here and there. Otherwise I trusted his accelerated healing to take care of them quickly. Graham stayed by my side, offering towels and holding the flashlight as instructed.

I spent a good hour picking out every piece I could find. The ones in his head weren't very deep, thankfully, but head wounds bled a lot. And it took a long time to sort through his tangled brown hair to ensure his skull wasn't fractured.

He still didn't wake up.

By the time I finished, he had a significant amount of stitches, and I was thankful to whatever gods that were listening that I'd stocked up on supplies. He had sutures ranging from just below his hip bone all the way up to an area above his ear. The largest was the section on his abdomen, and the smallest was the two spots on his cheek and chin. I wasn't sure how many I'd given him total since I started to lose count after a while. But I made Graham write down every section so I wouldn't forget them when I needed to take them out.

Once I finished, I slid back onto the floor between the couch and coffee table. I was too tired to clean him up. His metal hand was limp as it hung off the edge of the sofa. His fingers barely grazed the floor at my side. I lifted my knee and rested my hand on it. Both of them were covered in drying blood.

Graham was sitting on the coffee table at my side. He looked as exhausted as I felt. Though I wasn't sure if it was physical or emotional. He probably didn't expect to see anything like that again.

"Thank you for your help," I said after a long silence. I dropped my head back, resting it on Bucky's immobile thigh.

"I don't really know what to say to that," Graham replied. His voice was quiet and hollow. He was looking down at his hands now, still shaky.

"I'm sorry you had to see all that. I wouldn't have asked you to stay if I thought this was possible."

"Who is this guy anyway? I mean–he has a metal arm, he won't go to the hospital, you called him 'baby." I pinched my eyes shut, wishing I could rub them but my fingers were too dirty.

"It slipped out."

"Stark said the last guy you dated put a bullet in your shoulder." Stark actually said the last guy I "fooled around with." Bucky and I had done neither of those things. We never dated because we couldn't. And I didn't consider what we did to be "fooling around."

"You're a little too observant, you know? Or maybe just nosy."

"You're not the first person to say that." I sighed and lifted my head again.

"It's more complicated than that. We never dated. He was never my boyfriend. But he was something. It just didn't last long enough to turn into anything real."

"And he shot you?" I shook my head.

"He saved my life. If he didn't, I'd be dead."

"That doesn't make any sense."