Run (A Bucky Barnes Recovery Story)

35 Ribs

The attack came in the night, when Bucky was sprawled across his bed, asleep, the blankets tied up around his body and the curtains closed tightly. His arm was disconnected on the bathroom counter again. They came in through the window, six men, six, and crept up on him. Whispers were exchanged. Two men flanked the door with guns in their hands and one stood in a battle-ready stance at the window. The other three stood around Bucky’s bed, more than prepared to tackle him down. His neck was in reach. One of the men pulled out a syringe and began to lean across the bed, but Bucky had already opened his eyes, disturbed. He shifted and turned and every man cocked his gun and Bucky leapt up, almost completely awake and yelling loudly for Natasha. The man with the syringe jumped at him and Bucky dodged, but he was still heavy with sleep and he moved slowly. It had been the first night of few that he had slept so soundly.

“Natasha!!” Bucky screamed for next door. “Tasha!!”

“Shut up,” one of his attackers growled and Bucky felt someone grab him by his hair from behind and he cried out. “Get the tranq, hurry!” The man instructed. “Where’s his friggin’ arm?!” Bucky reached up to grab the hand in his hair and dug his nails into the wrist, twisting it sharply to the right until he heard a snap and the man gasped. Every gun was trained on him, but most of the men seemed hesitant to approach him as he staggered to his feet. Suddenly, there was banging, fierce slamming, on the door and the guards jumped and turned their guns to the door as Natasha burst through. She dodged tranquilizer shots from every gun and Bucky raised his arm to hide his face from the blasts of guns on all sides. But before he could realize what was happening, he felt something jamming into the back of his neck, something cold and wet and he screamed. He whirled around to face an empty syringe and a sick grin and his vision began to blur and he reached out to slug the guy and missed.

“Bucky!” He heard Steve yell and he turned around again to see the flash of blue and red metal connect with someone’s jaw and he reached out, shaking, but his vision was going and he couldn’t think and he tried to call out to Steve, he was so relieved to see him, but all that came out was frantic mumbles and suddenly he was on the ground and

then suddenly

he was

out.

Steve dropped to the ground next to Bucky, panicking, and grabbed his right wrist. There was a pulse, a fast and frantic pulse, but then someone kicked Steve hard right in the head and he slid across the carpet, far from Bucky, seeing stars.

“Natasha,” Steve cried. “Natasha, they’re taking him!!” The words tore out of him, anguished. Three men had surrounded Bucky and were lifting him, pulling him away. His head lolled weakly. The window was open and they nearly had him out. All Steve felt was pure panic as he jumped to his feet and slung his shield directly at them. The man made eye contact with him in the second as the shield was coming for his face and he made a dark smirk and dragged Bucky’s body up in front of him and Steve watched in horror as his shield slammed right into Bucky’s gut. There was a cracking sound and Natasha screamed and then the men dragged Bucky, just mindful of his broken ribs, back out the window and onto the pavement outside. Steve ran at them, snatching up his shield from off the ground, but the men were shockingly fast and there was a waiting van to load the Winter Soldier into and take him away. The car was already moving by the time Steve got out of the window, Natasha beside him. They ran.

“There’s going to be traffic ahead, we can’t lose them,” Natasha said. “We can’t!” Before she had time to say more, Steve ran out into the street, in front of cars and flashing headlights, tailing the car as fast as he could. He slung his shield again, this time at the car’s back wheels, catching one of them and getting stuck as it turned. The car slid and leapt, sparks flying. Steve took his chance and jumped at the car. The back doors swung open with a creaking of metal as the car spun on the road, screeching, and Steve fell inside, yanking his shield from the van’s wheel as quickly as he could. Guns went off and Steve held up his shield. Bucky was there, almost entirely strapped now to a metal folding table sticking out of the left wall. There was blood in the corner of his mouth and his bare chest was red and black and swelling quickly where Steve had hit him. Steve gritted his teeth and looked away. He slammed the first man’s face with his shield and slugged the second guy out. The driver got a whole kick or two in the face and Steve felt a bullet, a real bullet, not a tranq, which surprised him, nip his leg as he pulled it back. He didn’t care. Three guys out, one left in the apartment and two to go. The car was coming to a sliding stop now. Another array of bullets came and Steve held up his shield and walked through them. The men went out easily with a shield in the face and a fist to both of their guts. The van had stopped now, in the middle of the street, and there was flashing lights outside of the window and honking and Steve thought he heard ambulances.

Good, he thought. Bucky needs a hospital. Steve dropped his shield, since he had no straps on his back to click it on, and approached Bucky. He began shakily undoing the straps, feeling sick. Natasha was there seconds later, crawling into the van and standing next to Steve. She stood there with him and stared at Bucky’s face. There were police in uniforms that reached the car and Steve looked to Bucky, help him, get him a doctor, we almost lost him again.

Stretchers came out and men in uniforms that transferred Bucky carefully into a screaming ambulance.

“We have to go with him,” Steve said.

“I’ll get the car,” Natasha said. She looked over at Steve, her eyes red. She was thinking the same thing. We almost lost him again.

“Thanks,” Steve said. “Hurry.” The ambulance doors closed, the lights were on, they were beginning to drive away. “Hurry, Natasha.”

“Come on, it’s in the garage, come on,” Natasha said, pulling at Steve’s arm and Steve followed her as they ran to Natasha’s car.

We almost lost him. Again.