➳ Oh, Well Imagine Marvel➳ FINISHED

•Heart On Fire Pt. 4

I'm thinking one part after this and that's the end of the series. It's shorter that the other ones also.

"I think love is stronger than habits or circumstances. I think it is possible to keep yourself for someone for a long time and still remember why you were waiting when she comes at last." ~ Peter S. Beagle

"Hello, Bucky," you said, careful to keep your distance until he at least acknowledged you. He was tense, you could see it from here, the way his tight muscles strained beneath his shirt and how he gripped the counter with white knuckles but he was clean, you noticed. His shirt and jacket were new, probably purchased within the last few days given how clean they were and he'd been wearing a hat, you could tell from his hair. At least he looked like he'd been taking care of himself. "Bucky, it's me. It's [Name]. I've come for you."

"To take me back," his voice sounded so strained, low like a whisper, but he also sounded so tired. So exhausted. It broke your heart. You wanted to see his face, you desperately wanted to see his face but you didn't know if you could stand it.

"To take you home," you corrected, taking a careful step forward and around the metal medical table. You moved slowly toward him, arms raised in front of you and made sure to not make any noise. You kept your footsteps soft, avoided the clutter on the ground and all but held your breath. "Come home with me, Bucky," you added quietly, pleading with him.

"I won't go back!" he shouted and rounded on you, metal fist colliding with your raised forearm and you grunted, but held your ground against him. You pushed him back and held up your hands again, surrendering. You didn't want to fight him.

"No, Bucky, please listen-"

"You're one of them!" he came at you again, skilled fingers flipping a knife that you were certain he intended to bury in your neck. He swung down at you but again you caught his arms, his movements and fighting style etched into your brain and dropped your head back to avoid the tip of his knife. "You wont take me back to them!"

"I don't want to! Bucky, I swear, I want to take you somewhere safe! Let me help you!"

"Like you helped me before?" he asked and you faltered, shocked and wide-eyed, and fell back when his fist connected with your jaw. You stumbled back and hit the wall, using it to keep yourself up but Bucky was as fast as always and had you were fending him off before you could recover from your blurred vision. Thankfully, years of sparing with him was cemented in your muscles and memory served you well, arms moving without thought and head automatically dodging his punches. You didn't want to hurt him, you didn't want to fight him but he could kill you..and he would.

"Bucky, please listen-" you tried, grunting when a well-timed punch caught you in the stomach and knocked the breathe from your lungs. You crumpled against him, hung over his arm but kept a death grip on his upper arm and shoulder. You shouted in surprise when he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked back your head. "Buck-!"

"Stop calling me that," he sneered, his face so close to yours that you could see the bags under his eyes, the sweat on his brow and the coarse hair of his beard. "You don't get to call me that."

"I'm trying to help," you whispered, wincing at the sharp pain that spread crossed your scalp. Tears welled in your corner of your eyes and you grit your teeth, refusing to cry out. "I can take you to Steve."

"Shut up!" he yanked hard on your hair and pulled you to the floor, dropping on top of you and wrapping his metal fingers around your neck. "Shut up."

"He's outside," you gasped, trying to grab hold of his metal wrist but your fingers were too slick with sweat and blood so your hands only slid across the smooth surface. "He's outside. He's waiting. James-" you tried, desperate to make him remember you. The real you. The you he once loved.