Three weeks.
Three weeks and Bucky couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw that god damn pool of blood. The ringing of silence in his ears would wake him. His heart pounding.
They still hadn't found you.
The Avengers and SHIELD were working together. Scourging every corner of the planet. Some kind of clue, some kind of hint, but nothing.
Everyone was on edge. Every day that passed gave them less and less hope. They didn't admit it out loud, they couldn't. But they feared the worst. And Bucky took it the hardest.
He blamed himself. He thought of every possible scenario that could have saved you. Everything he could have done. And he realized something in the process. That he'd fallen for you, despite your attitudes toward each other.
"Stark?," Bruce said quietly, cutting through the silence of the lab. They'd all been sitting around. Minds racing but not a word spoken between them. All hoping for...something. "Tony. We've got something."
The video was shaky, blurry. But it was clear it was you. "Who sent this?," Tony asked wearily. He was exhausted, barely slept in weeks, just like the others. Bruce sighed. "It was sent to SHIELD. They're trying to track the location."
Everyone's eyes were glued to the screen. You were on a concrete floor, hands tied up above your head. Bruises, dried blood. Busted lip. Who knew what other injuries, and truthfully, no one wanted to think about it.
A man circled you and knelt to your level. "Where are the Avengers?," he asked in a thick Russian accent. No reply from you. "What about Tony Stark? Hmm? Bruce Banner?" He tilted his head, still getting no response.
"Natasha Romanoff? Clint Barton? Steve Rogers?"
"What about James Barnes? Hmm? Would you really try and protect a killer like that?," he asked and you raised your head, spitting in his face. He laughed, slapping you hard.
Bucky felt his blood boil. He knew the others felt the same. You'd remained loyal despite your current situation.
"They think you're dead, Agent Y/L/N," he taunted and you turned your head. You figured that much.
Hopefully they'd find you regardless, give you a proper burial.
"Go ahead," you shrugged. "You fucking Hydra pigs. You won't get shit from me. I hope you burn." He laughed again, pointing a gun at your head.
The others heard the click of the trigger and then the feed cut out.
Panic washed over the team. "How old is this?," Steve asked, breaking the silence and Bruce shrugged again. "No way to tell. Could be days. Could be weeks, Cap. SHIELD says they're doing all they can." Bucky huffed from the corner before storming off.
"It's not enough."
You coughed, the pain shooting through your body. Everything hurt. Bones broken. Ribs cracked. But you had no fear. You didn't know how long it had been, but long enough to be sure no one was coming.
The room was dark, cold. Dank. Smelled like blood and death. You resigned yourself to the fact that it was probably your fate. You knew the risks when you signed up. There was nothing safe about being an Avenger.
Closing your eyes, you only wanted to sleep. Silently praying they'd put you out of your misery, you let yourself drop off. You needed it, sleep. Rest. A moment of peace.
"Doll...," he whispered and you reached out. His face was so close. You swore you could feel his breath against your neck. His beard brushing against you, you wanted to touch it, touch him. Feel his arms around you.
How many times had you had this damn dream? Always the same.
"I've got you...," he said softly and you felt your heart swell. "I've got you. I'm here, Y/N. You're mine. I'll save you."
Your eyes flew open, tears streaming down. Alone. You were alone. Complete silence. You tried to move, but your wrists were tied above you. Every little move hurt, you could feel the cracked ribs. The deep cut on your side.
No one was coming. He was right. They'd think you were dead by now. They'd lose hope just like you had. Now you'd just wait for inevitable death. Hopefully it would be quick, painless.
Bucky stirred.
He'd fallen asleep on the sofa. He could hear the voices. They were rushing around. Hushed tones. He was too exhausted, his head falling back. He wanted to go back to sleep. Keep dreaming about you. Like he always did.
Yes, you drove him insane. You were careless. Always rushing into a fight, guns blazing. He'd watched you more times than he could count take down a man twice your size with your legs, your thighs.
It was impressive.
But instead of telling you how he really felt, he'd kept it inside. And it turned to bitterness. Not toward you, not intentionally. But he hated that he couldn't just be honest. And now...well it seemed to late.
He took a deep breath, trying to relax his wandering mind. You danced around in his dreams. Just little flashes. Your laughter. Your smile. Your little cheers of triumph when you beat Sam at video games or outran Tony on the track.
He loved you.
Goddammit, he loved you.
The voices became louder, making their way into the common area. "Rise and shine, Tin Soldier," Tony huffed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder. Bucky groaned, the vision of you lost. "What?," he growled, sitting up.
"We have a location," Steve told him, picking up his shield. He watched the team move around. All suited up, weapons in hand. His heart raced. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Suit up, Barnes," Tony sighed, activating his nanotech.
Bucky never moved so quickly. Rushing to his room, he grabbed everything he needed. Changing at lightning speed, he needed to know. He needed to know if you were alive. Either way, it didn't matter. He knew what he wanted to do.
He dropped his rifle into the seat next to him and looked at Tony, who was attempting to brief the team. He held up a hand, determined. "None of it matters," he told Tony, who frowned a bit. "She's my responsibility. I'm getting her out of there...,"
"...alone."
