Bucky Barnes Oneshots

Freedom

Another mission. Another target. Another wound.
The soldier was told his target was harmless but he knew how to fight back, making the assassination significantly harder.
But he was trained to succeed, to eliminate and his target was nothing in size or experience compared to him.
Witnesses were "neutralized" and the soldier was collected at the drop point, restrained and blindfolded before they shut the doors of the van and drove back to the facility.
The guards led him to the infirmary where they kept their only doctor, you.

You had been with Hydra since you were a little girl but unlike the soldier, you were trained to heal, not to kill.
Born in the roaring twenties, you received injections of a concoction that prolonged your life expectancy and stopped the aging process when you were 27.
So here you were, a century later and the Winter Soldier sitting on the operating table in front of you with the top of his uniform removed and his torso covered in his own blood.
The soldier was confused as to why you kept scowling at him.
Usually when he was sent to see you about some injury or his arm acting up, you were very nice to him, talking to him like he was a normal person, not a killing machine.

"You have to be more careful. There's no serum they can come up with, that's going to restart your heart once it's stopped beating." You said and tended to his countless wounds rather roughly.

Should he apologize?
You were important to him and he didn't want you to be mad at him.
It made him feel terrible.
He could kill thousands and it wouldn't make him feel as bad as having you be mad at him.
You on the other hand were mad at him every time he came into the small room with medical tools and necessities.
He's been through so much, he didn't need bullet holes and stab wounds in his body on top of all that.

"I'm sorry." The Soldier muttered quietly, barely audible but you heard him.

"It's fine, no need to apologize. Just try not to get hurt so often, okay?" You asked him with a small smile as you secured a bandage over the wound on his right side.

He managed to crack a small smile and got off the table and put the rest of his uniform back on just in time as guards entered the room and dragged him out.
You watched him leave, somehow wishing he'd turn back around to look at you one last time but why should he?

<~~~¥~~~>

The door to the infirmary swung open and two guards heaved the soldier inside, blood trailing behind him on the concrete floor and coating his entire face and body and dropped him carelessly on the metal table.

"Fix him." The guards ordered before closing the door behind them.

You got to work right away, needle, thread, disinfectant and gauzes at your side in no time as you managed to get the blood soaked uniform of his body to access the damage.
Three bullets in each of his pectoral muscles, one dangerously close to his heart and more on his lower torso and right arm.
You grabbed the scalpel and poked around in the wound near his heart, making him let out a low and painful groan.

"You got ambushed?" You asked as you disinfected the wound, sewed it shut and placed a bandage on top to stop the bleeding.

He nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the other countless wounds on his body.
You tried to be as gentle as possible but you needed to act quick otherwise he'd bleed to death on this very table.
One bullet shattered his collarbone and you knew that you had to make your superiors understand that he couldn't hold a gun with a wound like this.
They weren't going to listen or care but you had to at least try.
The rest of the procedure went on in silence apart from you asking if he was alright every now and then only to receive a hum or a nod from the poor soldier.