Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

Shattered (Rogers/Barnes x reader)

Warning: HEAVY ANGST.  And if you've read through book #1, you know I can go pretty heavy.  

"Step back, Stark," Sam growled, pushing the center of his chest to tip him slightly off balance. "You stay back, or I swear to God I'll hit you so hard that it'll be next Tuesday before you stop rolling."

"Is he okay?" Tony replied and backed away as he was told to do, his voice uncertain and afraid for the first time since this fight had begun. He had only ever known Bucky as an opponent, as a target; to see him now left Tony confused and remorseful at what a tragic mess this had all become. "Steve?" He pressed, but Sam pushed back again, forcing Tony against the far wall and as far away from Bucky as possible. He had no right to even look at him after what he had allowed his team to do.

"Hey, Buck, can you look at me?" you whispered to him, cradling his head in your lap as Steve frantically moved from one wound to the next in an effort to stop his bleeding before his friend was too far gone. "Buck, come on," you whispered, leaning in close to his ear, "do this for Steve."

His eyes fluttered a few times and a quiet groan escaped his throat. Bucky glanced at you for as long as he could keep his eyes open, but it was more and more of a struggle as each minute passed. His skin was pale and cool, and when you rested your hand against his chest, the rhythm within was uncertain and weak.

"Steve..."

"No, (Y/N). I can't hear that tone. I know what it means."

"Steve, come here," you insisted, your voice quiet and filled with sorrow. "He needs you. I'll take your place, okay?" He moved quickly to your position, gently moving his friend as to not cause him any more pain so you could move from beneath him to focus on his injuries.

"Okay, that's enough now, Barnes," Steve mumbled to him, "you're constantly leaving me, and I refuse to let you do that again. That's an order." Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but all he could do was blink a few times in acknowledgement, his body too weak now to even lift his head. "You can't leave me again, Buck. I can't lose you again." A few minutes passed as you continued to work, hearing Steve say things too quietly for you to understand; you would never ask him what those words were, nor did you want to know. They were to be treated as sacred and you understood that as you watched.

"Buck?"

The sound of Steve's voice had changed, cracking and fading beneath cries of anguish that were just beginning. You knew he was gone. You lifted your bloodied hands away, wiping them on your pants before reaching out to the Captain with a tremor in your grip. His shoulders were hunched and shaking, and his body retched under the power of the sobs for his fallen friend. Sam, Clint and Scott moved forward to take Bucky from the ground, but Steve wouldn't release him. Tony's team stood and watched silently, now realizing the gravity and depth of what this fight had really meant.

"Come on, Steve, let him go," you whispered with your hands on his, waiting to pull them away. "Let the guys take him inside, okay? They won't take him anywhere, I promise." You glanced up at the three men to be sure that they understood what you were saying. "Let him go, Steve."

~~~

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you slowly took your shoes from the floor and put them on with a long sigh, attempting to prepare yourself for what this day would bring, knowing that ultimately nothing would prepare any of you. Steve appeared from the bathroom, wearing a new black 3-piece suit, but he was struggling slightly with the cufflinks that you had purchased for him for this occasion.

"What's the point of these anyway? To piss me off? Because it's working."

"Yep," you agreed with a pop of the 'p' sound. "You've unlocked the secret that's evaded tailors everywhere." Taking them from his hand, you quickly secured them one by one. "What time did Tony arrange for the limos to pick us all up?"

A quick glance at the clock forced him into action, realizing that time had escaped you, leaving only a few minutes to be downstairs and ready to go. "Shit, we need to move."

"Steve, wait," you paused, grabbing his arm before he could move more than a step away. He looked down at you and pulled you in tightly to his chest, his arms squeezing almost too firmly and nearly taking your breath away. "I'm here, okay? For whatever you need."

He slowly released you and left a quick kiss on your hair, turning away silently towards the door. He wouldn't speak again until it was time to remember his friend.

~~~

Watching Steve speak of Bucky was like taking hit after hit to the gut without pause; you had known him long enough to see every nuance in his expression, every shift in his posture, and every hesitation in his speech to know that he was struggling. To anyone else he was the picture of stoicism. To you he was completely shattered.

It had literally taken an act of Congress to get the American flag draped over Bucky's casket, some arguing that he was always to be honored as a war veteran, others arguing that his crimes negated that honor. You had worked your way through eight different committees and three senators to make this happen, threatening that the president himself was next on your list. Steve had no idea, and there was no need; you did this for Bucky.

When Steve's words faded and he returned to your side, they began to lower his friend to his final rest. His hand gripped yours tightly as if he needed you to hold him in place. You turned to look at him but his eyes were closed tightly and cast downward with tears moistening his lashes. "Hey, you okay? Do you need to take a minute?"

"I can't watch this. He's falling...and I can't hold on. I can't..."

"Captain Rogers," one of the officers broke in, but Steve still refused to open his eyes and his grip on you only tightened. The gentleman was holding the perfectly folded flag for him to take, but you accepted it for him, clutching it to your chest when you realized that Bucky would never know that he was honored this way. That his country still respected him despite everything that had happened. He had died believing that he could never be that person again, and now he would never have the chance to realize that he already was.

"Let's go home, Steve."

He nodded, finally opening his eyes to look at you with a small glance to the flag in your hands. He reached out and ran his fingers gently over it and sighed with a tremble that shook his entire body. You jolted forward when he grabbed you and pulled you to him again, still holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping him safe; the only thing that he knew was real.

"I just want my best friend back."