Bucky was covered in blood.
Storming the building, he wiped out every single Hydra agent that crossed his path. He had tunnel vision, only one goal in mind. Finding you.
The others made their way in, splitting up. Tony told them to let Bucky have his way. He knew there'd be no arguing with the former Soldier. Bucky was determined. It was like a switch had been flipped.
He paused for a moment. The silence was deafening after the rain of bullets. He wondered where to go next, turning briefly to see the others head off in other directions.
He needed to find you. Dead or alive, it didn't matter. He owed it to you to bring you home.
Your heart rate was slow.
Vision cloudy. You were barely breathing. Everything hurt every time you moved. You prayed for death, that the next time would be the last time. You couldn't take anymore.
You didn't register the door opening, you were nearly unconscious. Bucky sighed, relieved, seeing you. But he was cautious, he didn't know what he was walking into. "I found her...," he breathed into the comm and reached up, turning it off.
"Sergeant Barnes...," the voice said, moving behind him and Bucky turned, pointing his gun at the man. It was the same one from the video, the one who'd been torturing you. "So glad you made it."
The smile on his face made Bucky's skin crawl. He'd seen him before, during his own time with Hydra. Heinrich Something...it didn't matter to Bucky. He was a dead man.
"I'd hoped you'd come...," he grinned, moving closer. Pulling something from his pocket, Bucky's eyes trailed to his hands and froze when he was the red leather, the black star embossed across the front.
It was a trap.
"Ah, I see you know this," he taunted, holding the journal up. Bucky's eyes widened a fraction, but he was rooted to the spot. "Fascinating, isn't it? What a few words can do?" Bucky swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away.
Why in the hell was he here?
"See...," he went on, opening the book, "we were hoping you'd show up. We took the...," he gestured toward you, "weakling...hoping she'd lead you right to us. Luckily for us, you're nothing if not predictable."
Bucky's nostrils flared. He called you weak. You were nothing of the sort. If anything, you'd showed tremendous strength. And Bucky refocused, cocking his rifle. "So scary," the man teased, "will you attempt to save the girl? She's nothing, you know. Just...," he scrunched up his face, "weak."
Bucky had heard enough.
"Ah, ah," the man tutted, brushing his finger over the page. "желаниe...," he took a breath and Bucky froze again. This couldn't be happening. He was well, wasn't he. "pжавый" Bucky's feet were rooted to the spot. He couldn't breathe, fear overtook him.
"Stop...," he whispered, closing his eyes."
"семнадцать, Девять, Один...,"
His heart hammered in his chest. His throat was dry. His eyes were screwed shut, trying so desperately to fight how he was feeling. This wasn't happening.
"рассвет, Печь, Доброкачественные..."
Oh god, Bucky thought. One more, one more damn word. He needed to concentrate, to fight it. And then he heard it. Just the smallest gasp. It would have been inaudible to someone un-enhanced. And it freed his mind.
He had one small moment of clarity and the shot rang out. Dead center of the man's forehead, dropping him to the ground. Bucky released a breath and dropped the rifle, rushing over to you.
"I've got you...," he whispered, cutting the ropes that bound you. "It's okay, Doll. I'm here."
You were sure you were dreaming again. Or maybe this was what death was like. Your body went limp and he held you, picking you up carefully. Grabbing his weapon, he flipped his comm back on.
"She's safe," he sighed, "she's safe. I have her. Getting her to the jet. Let's get outta here."
He heard the others sigh in relief, rushing out to meet him. He laid you on the table, examining you the best he could. Every bruise broke his heart, that they'd done this to you. He counted your cracked ribs, swallowing hard. It wouldn't be an easy recovery, but you were alive.
He watched from the hallway.
The doctors rushed around, checking every inch of you. "She'll live," Tony sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Broken arm, cracked ribs. Dislocated jaw. They'll need to do surgery on the wound in her side. It's deep."
Everyone nodded, some were barely standing. It had been a long three weeks, but you were home. You were safe.
The monitor beeping was the only sound.
It was dim, and he could hear your steady breathing. It strangely comforted him. Bucky hadn't left the room after your surgery, not wanting you to wake alone. He didn't know how long you'd be out, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.
Your intake of breath pulled him from his thoughts and he practically leapt out of his seat to your side. Your mouth was dry and you tried desperately to lick your lips. "I'll get you water," he whispered softly, grabbing a cup and filling it from the fountain just outside.
Helping you up a bit, he brought the cup to your lips. "It's okay," he breathed, "I'm here." Your eyes lifted, trying to adjust as they met his. He blushed a bit and sat the cup down.
He didn't know what to say. He was still beating himself up for letting it happen. "You...you need rest," he whispered, his eyes turned away and you reached weakly for his arm.
"You saved me," you said quietly, your voice rough and he blushed again.
"I...I had to," he admitted, not explaining why and you frowned. Was he holding back? Why the sudden change? You'd done nothing but fight for months. Was this simply guilt on his part?
"Why?," you whispered and he shook his head. "Damn it, Barnes." He felt more guilt. Guilt that he couldn't be truthful. "Just...go," you sighed, closing your eyes. You weren't sure why it hurt so badly. You knew he didn't feel the same for you.
He gave you a look, disappointed, but he nodded. He was weak, didn't have the courage. He needed time, maybe you'd forgive him. "Get some rest, Doll," he whispered and leaned over, kissing your head.
