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wkemeup · 5 years

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Guiding Light (12)

summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 8.2k warnings: angst™, descriptions of a panic attack, cannon violence, references to suicidal ideation 🖤series masterlist // series playlist

Bucky could barely stand on his own feet, vision tunneling as a ringing burned in his eardrums. His breaths were coming in too short, right hand numb as he struggled to keep himself upright. He couldn't understand how this was even possible; how had they done to you what they did to Bucky and no one even noticed it, didn’t even consider that there was something bigger at play, something evil and vile.

All this time he thought you were safe, thought the worst of it was over, but the rug was pulled out from under him and he was falling a thousand miles a minute, plummeting down to the very core of the planet itself and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

How did no one see this coming?

Only Sam took notice from the corner of the room as Bucky’s knees started to buckle, his hand grasping at his chest as his breaths were too shallow, and rushed at him. Sam gripped onto Bucky’s bicep, holding him up against the wall, and quietly instructed him to list five things he could see.

Bucky gritted his teeth, though he played along because it had helped once before, and he didn’t have time to panic like this, couldn’t waste energy losing himself to his mind because you were out there somewhere, alone, and at the mercy of Hydra. So, he listened to Sam and scoured the room for something to ground him.

Light blue trimming on the floor boards. Steve’s arms folded over his chest. Tony’s pacing up and down the small, enclosed room. The sheets of your bed thrown to the edge of the cot in haste. Broken glass lining the floor he hadn’t noticed when he walked in.

He still couldn’t breathe.

“FRIDAY!” Tony shouted as Bucky started mumbling four things he could touch quietly to Sam, “get me a scan of the entire building! I want to know where the hell she is!”

“You got it, boss,” the AI responded.

Bucky felt for the creases in his sweatpants, then to the thin layer of his t-shirt, hands grasping to tug on his hair, and then to grip onto Sam’s forearm. His breaths were starting to come in more even but he was still too dizzy to focus.

“Three things you can hear,” Sam said quietly, eyeing the rest of the team who had yet to notice Bucky’s panic attack. For all the shit he gave Sam, he was a good man and better than he ever gave him credit for to his face. He reminded himself to tell Sam how much he appreciated it that when all this was over.

“You,” Bucky mumbled, concentrating, “footsteps,” nodding to Tony’s relentless pacing, listening carefully for something humming in the background, “and, um, air conditioning.”

Bucky glanced up to find Steve and Tony talking harshly to one another in the corner of the room, trying to determine next steps and clearly being at odds with one another over what to do. Meanwhile, Natasha tended to Dr. Cho, helping ease her onto the chair as she attempted to explain what had happened.

“That voice just came over the speakers and she just froze,” Dr. Cho muttered, shaken, as she glanced between Tony and Steve as they hovered over her, “she started convulsing about halfway through; screaming, crying, begging for me to leave, but then she just… stilled. I’m not sure what that man said but the next thing I know, she was out of the bed and hit me over the head with a vase.”

So that’s why there was broken glass spilled on the floor; flowers and stems thrown haphazardly around the room. Bucky stopped breathing again, the rest of the steps in Sam’s list thrown out of his mind as the image of your eyes as cold and lifeless as his had once been prevented the air from reaching his lungs.

“Two things you can smell,” Sam reminded him quietly enough to not draw attention, “come on, man. We need you here.”

Bucky nodded, following Sam’s instruction and pushing the mental image from his mind. You needed him and whether you were taken to the darkest parts of your consciousness, he’d find his way to you, he’d bring you back. You’d done it for him more times than he could count. He’d do it for you, too.

The fresh flowers now spewed onto the tile floors. Disinfectant soap on the counter.

Sam was about to ask him for the final step in the grounding method when Bucky shoved his way from off the wall, a renewed energy in his veins and determination running through his body. He clenched his hands into fists, turning back to give a single nod to Sam in a silent appreciation.

“FRIDAY!” Tony called impatiently, “I need an update here.”

“I think I found something,” FRIDAY’s voice came through again, “in the east wing. The security cameras haven't been set up there yet so I can’t get an eye on Agent Y/l/n but there’s movement in the area.”

Steve nodded; arms folded over his chest. He glanced to Bucky with remorse clouding in the light blue of his eyes until his friend nodded, giving him the signal that it was okay to proceed. Steve let out a heavy breath, stepping forward and his arms relaxed at his sides.

“Alright, team. Suit up.”

***

Bucky couldn’t stand wasting time he should be searching the compound for you lugging on his Kevlar jacket and changing out of his sweatpants. It felt like a colossal mistake, attending to something so trivial, but it was Sam that pointed out that a knife and a bullet would rip through cotton a lot easier than the thick material of his suit. If he wanted to survive whoever hacked FRIDAY’s system and whatever hell they brought along with them, he needed to take the extra three minutes.

He emerged from his room, trying to ignore the mess of sheets and pillows he’d laid in with you just hours ago, and met Sam at the end of the hall.

“Steve said we’d meet up there. Let’s go,” Bucky grumbled, heading towards the stairs when a hand grabbed onto his wrist, not enough to stop him in his tracks from the pull of it but he sensed the urgency in the grip, the silent plea to wait.

“You need to be prepared for what you might see,” Sam said sternly, though there was a lingering sadness in his eyes. “You haven’t seen yourself when the soldier took over. If that’s what's happening to Y/n right now... you've got to be prepared for that, man. She’s not going to know you and she may try to kill you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, ripping his hand from Sam’s grasp. It was harsher than he meant to but there would be time for apologies later. He knew how it felt when the soldier controlled him and he didn’t need anyone else to tell him what it would be like to see it. There was no preparing for something like that, for seeing the love of your life stripped from thier emotions, their memories, and rendered a weapon for the same organization that tortured them for months.

Sam nodded, needing no further explanation and gestured for Bucky to lead the way.

The run to the east wing was long, longer than he remembered, and impossibly quiet. All he could focus on was the sound of their footsteps echo through the halls as they ran, the panting of Sam’s breaths, and the rustling of his jacket against his left arm. He didn’t let himself think about anything else, couldn’t, because it would consume him whole.

“We’ve got an issue,” Steve’s voice came in through the coms. “I’ve got company on my level.”

“Me, too,” Nat added, her voice low, as if she was hiding from something, “at least six outside my hall.”

“Looks like we’ve got a full-scale invasion on our hands,” Tony chimed in and the whirring of his suit buzzed through the coms as he spoke. “Wilson and Barnes, you’re are on your own for now, I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem,” Sam responded with a smirk, nodding at Bucky confidently. It was his easiest defense mechanism when things got tough, to smile through it and make jokes, because what else did they have if they lost their conviction.

Bucky nodded back, trying to latch onto the aura that Sam exuded.

It only lasted a second before the echo of gunfire rang out in the hallway and Sam ducked just as a bullet flew over his head.

Bucky skidded to a halt with his back pressed against the wall to shield himself from the open hallway where the gunfire had come from. Meanwhile, Sam threw himself towards the assailants down the hall without much of a second thought. Quickly switching into combat mode, Sam yanked the handguns from his holsters and began firing.

Bucky’s hand was inching towards his gun, edging over the corner of the hall, when Sam started waving at him frantically, turning over a cadenza lined against the wall and ducked down behind it to shield from the gunfire in his direction.

“Go!” he shouted as peaked out behind the blockade and fired at the two men. “Go, Barnes! I’ve got this! Find Y/n!”

Bucky watched as Sam charged out from behind the cadenza and disappeared further into the adjoining hall, chasing after the two gunmen, until all he could hear was the distant echo of the gun’s discharge, until he heard nothing but the labored pants of his own breath.

Sam was right. The team was getting picked off one by one from the chaos of Hydra agents infiltrating the base. He was the only one left, the only one who might be able to reach you before it was too late. He didn’t have time to panic and rush after Sam. There was only one priority right now and it was you. Bucky pushed himself off of the wall and sprinted further down the long, empty corridor.

Soon, the furnished halls and room turned to exposed beams and wooden framing, the cool air seeping in through the exposed walls until he came upon the heart of the east wing. He pulled to a stop in the same room he’d spent weeks renovating with Sam. The smell of fresh wood still present in the air, but there was something off. Tools thrown sporadically around the room outside of the box he had left them in, plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling ripped down the middle, and an aura of something sinister enough to get the hair on Bucky’s arm standing on edge.

“It is good to see you again, Soldat,” a voice spoke from behind him, low, familiar. It was the same voice from the speakers that spoke the Russian trigger words. “Let me reintroduce myself. You may call me Cain.”

Bucky turned, slowly, to catch a glimpse of Cain from the corner of his eyes before facing him completely. The scar running down the side of the man’s face was enough for a growl to rip through Bucky’s chest and he yanked the gun from its strap over his thigh and held the barrel aimed between Cain’s eyes. This was the same man who beat you and tortured you and humiliated you on streamed footage for the world to see. Bucky had never felt a rage in his veins quite like this. It was painful. It was all consuming.

Cain held his hands up to the side, almost defensively, laughing, and it made Bucky’s stomach lurch.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he smirked, “not when I’ve got such a fun surprise for you.”

Bucky’s position faltered for just a second, his grip loosening on the gun. His cold, hardened expression fell to one of agony, enough for Cain to notice before he could hide it. The knowing grin that followed only seemed to make the dread churning in Bucky’s stomach worse.

Then, Cain stepped aside, allowing space for something behind him, and Bucky watched with his heart in his throat as you emerged from behind the pillar.

It wasn't the black, skin tight suit, or the bold, red insignia of Hydra’s emblem on your chest that frightened him most, or the muzzle over your mouth, or the dark black paint over your face like a mask. It was the empty, detached look in your eye as you stared at him, looking straight through him like he was made of glass, like he was less than nothing. You were still, body stiff, awaiting orders and it was so familiar, Bucky’s knees nearly gave out.

“Impressive, ain’t she? Conditioned her myself,” Cain taunted, eyeing Bucky’s reaction as he ran a hand up the side of your arm and flipping the hair from your shoulder. He circled your back with the flat of his palm possessively; his touch on you a reminder of who you belonged to. You were unresponsive to your captor’s hands roaming over your body, too locked away in the confines of your mind to care, but Bucky was fuming.

“Get your fucking hands off of her,” he seethed through gritted teeth, his eyes trained on Cain’s hand upon your hip.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Cain stepped behind you and used your body as a shield. His chest was pressed to your back, his hands settled on your shoulders as he leaned around the side of your face. “You gonna shoot me through your girl here?”

Bucky’s head was pulsing, jaw aching from how tight he was grinding his teeth. Cain raked your hair away from your eyes, pushed it aside and licked a stripe up the side of your face. Bucky’s stomach dropped and he tasted blood in his mouth, his grip on his gun faltering as Cain kept his eye the whole time, daring him to do something about it. He didn’t pull away until his tongue trailed from the edge of your jaw to your temple. You didn’t even flinch. You were motionless.

Bucky could see the shine of Cain’s saliva on your skin.

“I’m going to kill you,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his voice even despite the heat boiling inside of him, “I will fucking rip you apart! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”

“Not if your girl kills you first,” he shrugged, unfazed. “Listen Soldat, you’ve been a pain in Hydra’s ass for too long. If you’re not going to give up your little fantasy of pretending you’re some kind of hero and come home to Hydra where you belong, then we’re left with no choice but to eliminate you, to punish you for your decent. What better way to do that than with the woman you so pathetically fell in love with? Isn’t that right, эсминец?”

Destroyer.

You only blinked, unmoving, unaffected by the man’s taunts. Bucky kept his focus on you, desperately searching for a trace of the woman he knew you to be hidden somewhere in your eyes, screaming to get out, but it was naïve, foolish of him to even try. Sam had tried to warn him of that. The stories Steve had told him of what it was like trying to get through to him when the winter soldier filtered through the back of his memories. It was near impossible, he’d nearly beaten Steve within an inch of his life, but he did break through. Once.

He had to try.

“Y/n,” Bucky called out, directing his attention solely on you, even as Cain rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

“Y/n’s not home right now, asshole,” Cain scoffed, earning no response from Bucky.

“I need you to snap out of this,” Bucky tried again, recognizing the lace of fear in his voice he had no hope of masking. You were staring right through him, eyes glazed over. Bucky could hardly feel the thunderous pounding in his chest. “Please, I don’t want-- I won’t fight you. Please, baby, just wake up. You don’t have to listen to him. You know who he is. You know what he’s done to you.”

Still, nothing.

He should have expected that, but it didn’t make the sting of your empty stare any less painful.

“Sweetheart, please,” he choked out, the lump in the back of his throat threatening to suffocate him where he stood.

“Pathetic,” Cain grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Never thought I’d see the day the Winter Soldier begged like a fucking love sick school boy. You’ve become nothing but weak since you turned your back on Hydra. We raised you. We gave you your strength, your power, and you dare to throw it all away for some mindless whore with a vigilante complex!?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Bucky spat, eyes still locked on you because the second he looked at that vile man again, he’d lose it completely. He’d empty his entire clip into him and there was no telling what you’d do. It wasn’t a risk he could take, so he stayed focused on you despite the flinch in his body at the mention of Hydra, of the Winter Soldier, the physical recoil of his past life thrown back into his face.

Cain shook his head, a film of disgust upon his features. “Your makers would be sick at the sight of you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw so tight he drew blood against his tongue. His hand was shaking. Copper burned in his mouth. It took every ounce of his strength to stay focused on you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, look at me. I’m not your enemy. You know me.”

Nothing. No flickers of realization or softness breaking through the dense, stone cold expression etched into your muscles. You were empty, a shell, like he had been once. You didn’t know him. You didn’t even know yourself.

A painful split ripped and tore in Bucky’s chest and he was certain his heart had ripped in two.

“We don’t have all day here, so let’s cut to the chase.” Cain leaned into your ear and you shifted your head just slightly, slow calculated movements, waiting for his orders like it was the only thing you knew. It was. “Kill him.”

You nodded and without a blink in your eye, grabbed the handgun from Cain as he extended it to you. There was no time to react as you aimed the barrel in Bucky’s direction and pulled the trigger.

The fire of the release echoed within the room and suddenly white hot burning shot through Bucky’s right thigh. He stumbled back a few paces from the impact, his shoulder painfully colliding with the sharp edge of a wooden pillar, his leg threatening to give out under him.

He clenched his jaw, breathing harshly through gritted teeth as his hand darted down to put pressure on the wound and blood seeped between his fingers, thick and oozing through the torn hole in his suit, in his skin.

When he looked up again, you were already halfway across the room, stalking toward him and all he could see was the lack of remorse in your eye, the unabridged need to finish the mission, to take him out because it was what you were told. It was a look he knew too well.

He'd never even seen you like that when facing your enemies in the field. You were always cautious, calculating, but you still managed to crack jokes by his side as you infiltrated Hydra bases. There was a smile on your face and you eased him by talking about playlists and trips to Brooklyn as if he wasn’t following you through the halls of enemy territory with weapons in your hands.

You were never like this; separate from yourself, cold and compartmentalized, a weapon of your skills alone.

“Y/n! Wait!” Bucky shouted, calling out for you knowing it would be of no use but goddamnit he did it anyway because the idea of you being lost to him, after all you’d been through together, was too much to let himself give up now. He dove between the exposed wooden pillars, just trying to get out of your line of sight for only a second, dragging his right leg behind him to find relief.

Blood dripped down his thigh, leaving red in his wake and soaking through the fabric of his pants. He glanced over his shoulder and you were suddenly behind him, a hand on his bicep gripping tight into the straps of his jacket and you yanked him hard, shoving his body against the nearest wall.

You didn’t usually have strength like this and Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was the adrenaline, a foreign serum in your veins, or if his own body was weakened by the blood loss or just by the agony of it being you he was supposed to fight.

Dead eyes clouding over any trace of the woman he knew and you moved to slam your fist to his face, but he ducked just in time, sliding out of your grasp. The crash of drywall followed and you shook dust and plasterboard from your fist like it barely hurt.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Bucky panted, holding his ground a few feet from you as you cracked your neck. “Snap out of this!”

You stalked closer, a twitch in your lip and a growl in your chest.

“You’re only prolonging the inevitable, Soldat!” Cain called out, laughing as he leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. A coward who couldn’t be bothered to do anything but watch.

Bucky grunted, grabbing your hand at the wrist as you swung at him again. He held you steady, watching as your eyes narrowed in concentration and you tried to push forward, arm shaking in the attempt. There was nothing behind the hue of your eyes, no love, no longing, no semblance of the light he was so used to. It was only darkness.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged, only for you to swing your free hand around and collide hard against his jaw. He stumbled back, grabbing at his face from the throbbing in his cheek.

You charged at him again, kicking him in the thigh where blood soaked through fabric and he cried out, the throbbing of the open wound aching through the entirety of his leg and shooting up through his spine.

“Look at me!” Bucky was growing desperate. He was running out of options. “You know me!”

He saw the flash of the gun quicker this time as you raised at him and rushed at you, slamming you hard against the wall and yanking the weapon from your hand, throwing it along the floor out of your reach.

Electric cuffs on the belt of his jacket released and he quickly adhered them to your wrists, leaving them bound against the wall like high intensity magnetics. You struggled against them, grunting and shouting, almost feral, and Bucky took a second to breathe.

Reaching forward, he removed the muzzle from your mouth and flung it aside, hands cupping at the sides of your face, touching the creases in your skin left behind by the sharp plastic. Fingers running soothingly over heated cheeks and you tried to stretch away from his touch like it burned you, like you’d never felt his hands before, like they were a stranger’s.

“Y/n, please, I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky pleaded, trying to catch your eye but you only growled back at him, fighting the restraints as your chest heaved in the exertion. He was gripping your face too tightly now but he was teetering on the edge of desolation, terrified of what could happen, and you wouldn’t even meet his eye. “Baby, it’s me. It’s Bucky. Just look at me. I’m right here.”

“Enough already!” Cain shouted, aiming a device over in Bucky’s direction, something he didn’t recognize.

As high-pitched ringing filled the room, your cuffs immediately released and you fell from the wall, shoving Bucky hard to the ground before you scrambled for the gun. He didn’t have even a second to stand before you were towering over him, gun aimed down at his chest.

This was it, he realized. This was the way he was going to die, staring down the barrel held in the hand of the woman he spent his whole life waiting for, the woman he loved. He’d already heard you say you loved him for the last time, already had his last kiss with you, felt your hands so tenderly upon his skin, saw you smile, heard your voice. It was all over before he even realized it, ripped away by the cruel utterance of Russian words over the speakers.

He wondered if you’d ever forgive yourself.

You released the safety of the gun, the click of it deafening in his ears, and he clenched onto his thigh. Blood oozed between his fingers and he winced at the pain of it as it shot up his leg. Glancing up at you, staring into the cold and empty look in your eye as you strengthened your stance, ready to pull the trigger.

Bucky knew that if he was honest with himself, this fight would always end here.

He wasn’t fighting the way he should, wasn’t using his years of training and decades of combat and missions.

He could have swept your leg and pulled one of the knives hidden in his jacket, could have taken you by surprised and gotten control of the gun in your hand, he could have gained the upper hand and had you on the floor in a matter of seconds, but he couldn’t do any of those things without the risk of punishment from Cain reigning down on you before he could get you to safety or even convince you in this state that he was someone to trust.

He’d known what it was like to be in your position, to have nothing but orders in your mind and a determination that out-ruled everything else. You wouldn’t stop, no matter what he did, and he knew there was only one way to end this.

Cain wouldn’t let you leave here alive without accomplishing your mission. It was the reason they’d taken you in the first place, to break you and wither you down until they could shove the soldier into your head and rip away the woman he so adamantly loved, just so he knew in his last moments, it was you that killed him. Another sick form of torture that Hydra sought to punish him with. He’d always been at the mercy of those vile men, no matter what he did or how long he thought he was free from their grasp.

And they used you to do it.

Bucky made a decision in that moment as you stared down at him through cold, hooded eyes. Chest panting and sweat dripping from his brow, he tried to bring back the memory of your smile, your laugh, the light in your eyes he’d so easily fallen in love with.

The team would find you before Cain escaped. They’d find you and you’d be safe again.

It was all he cared about.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he exhaled, nodding slowly, hand gripping to the painful ache in his thigh. He hand was coated in red. “It’s okay.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused, and you glanced over at Cain for answers and he only shrugged, waving at you to get on with it. You adjusted your positioning, though your finger remained steady on the trigger.

“I know you’ll wake up from this soon,” Bucky continued, taking advantage of the time you gave him before it ran out, “you’ll wake up and remember this but I need you to know that I love you, okay? I need you to know that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me and this isn’t your fault.”

You blinked, furrowing your brow.

“You saved me all those years ago. Remember that,” Bucky urged, his voice softer than he intended, coming out in a broken rasp and losing energy fast. He coughed, blood spraying from his lips. “Do you understand me? This isn’t your fault, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

“Jesus fuck! This is pathetic!” Cain shouted, storming his way through the open walls and pushing aside half completed insulation. He stood next to you, raised his own gun to your head and releasing the safety with a deafening click. “Do it. Kill him, now!”

“Y/n, it’s okay,” Bucky pleaded, heart lurching at the sight of Cain’s finger inching closer to the trigger, the barrel pressing against your temple. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. You can do it now. I’m okay.”

But you didn’t move. You only stared at him, studying him, and for the smallest, most impossible second, Bucky thought he saw a flash of realization, but he knew it was only his mind playing tricks on him, a false hope he didn’t dare allow for himself.

“What the hell are you waiting for!?” Cain roared, shoving the barrel of the gun hard against your temple enough to force a falter in your position. “Kill him!”

“Y/n, please, it’s okay—”

“Listen to your goddamn boyfriend, princess! He’s fucking asking for it, ain’t he? Kill him!”

Bucky winced, feeling lightheaded from the throbbing in his thigh. He didn’t want to die, not anymore, not after he’d finally found you again and his world shifted into something beautiful and hopeful and filled with light. He didn’t want to die, but he’d give up everything if it meant keeping you safe.

He’d give up his life.

“I love you,” he said to the woman who didn’t know him, words falling out in an exhale as his eyes fluttered closed, just needing to focus on the image in his mind of you, of lying under cool sheets and curling against bare skin, of warm smiles and the soft touch of your lips. He needed it to be the last thing he knew as the darkness took him under.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I love you.”

Bucky settled in, waiting, hands trembling and breaths shaky in his chest.

But the gunshot never came. One minute later. Then two. Still nothing.

Slowly, Bucky opened his eyes again to see you clenching your jaw, nostrils flaring as a rage boiled under the surface. Your hand gripped and clenched at the handle of the gun, eyes flickering down to the barrel as if the very action of its aim repulsed you. There was a war fighting in your head, sweat beading down your temples as breaths came in thick and heavy, chest panting.

The soldier didn’t have emotions like that and Bucky felt his heart start to pick up in pace again as he dared to meet your eye.

Panic, confusion, shame, fury, all rolled into a single moment and a tear slipped down your cheek, blinking away another. Your lips parted, almost in a gasp, and it was like a cloud of smoke broke from the emptiness in your gaze, replaced with a complexity of human emotion all your own.

Bucky’s chest was tight, painful, and he realized he had stopped breathing. He sucked in a harsh breath, shaking on the exhale, as he kept your eye. You remained still, Cain still none the wiser as you had yet you drop your gun, though your finger had strategically moved away from the trigger.

Almost as if in slow motion, you turned to face Cain, prodding the gun away from your temple with the back of your hand until he held it down by his side. You clenched your jaw, eyes darkening over at you looked at him, losing traces of the woman Bucky knew you to be in favor of a vengeance that ran deep in your veins.

“What the fuck are you doing, princess?” Cain seethed, readying to lift the gun at you again but a scream, pained and broken, ripped through your lungs, echoing through the east wing, and you threw yourself at him before he could move.

Bucky propped himself up on his elbows, unable to do much else from the dead weight of his right leg, and watched as you slammed Cain to the ground, throwing his gun far away from his reach as you sent punch after punch against the side of his face until blood splattered along the floor.

But then, Cain kneed you hard in the side, throwing you off of him and managing to get the upper hand. Bucky tried to crawl towards you, desperate to do something, anything to help as you scrambled to your feet, but his body was fading on him, too weak to stand, let alone fight.

Cain laughed, spitting a gob of blood from his lips as he grabbed a hold of your shoulders, throwing you at the nearest pillar and Bucky flinched as he heard the sound of your head against the wood. You were too slow to get up, unsteady as you clung onto the wall with one hand and pressed at your temple with the other. Your vision was doubling and you fell back to the floor.

“You think you can beat me?!” Cain bellowed, arms stretched out to the side, “I am the embodiment of Hydra itself and Hydra cannot be killed!”

In his arrogance, he didn’t notice Bucky’s hand grasp onto the cold metal of the gun that had slipped from your hold in the struggle. He didn’t notice Bucky meet your eye for an impossibly short second before he slid the gun across the floor to you. He didn’t notice your fingers curling around the handle, pointer on the trigger as you released the safety with a short flicker, before it was too late, and without even waiting a beat, you fired a shot straight into Cain’s chest.

He stumbled back; words caught in his throat as he glanced down to red seeping out through his shirt. You pushed yourself to your feet, holding the gun with both hands and fired a second shot just as Cain attempted to lunge at you again. This one brought him to his knees. Then a third shot fired, until Cain collapsed to the floor. Even when he laid upon the ground, unmoving, eyes rolled back, you emptied the entire clip.

“Y/n,” Bucky called, trying to catch your attention over the sound of the gunshots, the ringing in his ears from the close quarter discharge pulsing painfully. You couldn’t hear him, firing round after round, refilling the magazine, watching as Cain’s lifeless body flailed with each shot. You didn’t stop until the weapon was firing blanks.

“Y/n!”

You froze, turning over your shoulder slowly, like you were afraid of what you’d see. Upon laying eyes on Bucky, the gun slipped from your hand, falling to the floor with deafening sound.

You rushed at him, skidding on your knees, hands hovering over his thigh, his chest, his face, so irrevocably afraid to touch him because you’d already caused so much damage but longing for the feel of him, to confirm the beating of his heart under your fingertips and the breath exhaling in warm gusts from his lungs.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Bucky grabbed your shaking hands.

“Oh, God... oh, God, what did I do...”

“I’m okay, love,” Bucky tried to assure you as you threw yourself against his chest, arms wrapping tightly around him and a world of relief filled him. Your whole body shook with every sob as it made its way through your spine and Bucky rubbed his hand soothingly down your back.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, hands clenching around the thick fabric of his jacket, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, I didn’t-- I didn’t know how to—how to stop--”

“I know, sweetheart. Trust me, I know,” Bucky said, kissing your forehead. There was no control when the triggers were activated, no fighting back. It was a feeling Bucky knew too well.

You nodded against his chest, curling up tighter against him and Bucky did his best to run his hand gently along your back. Steve’s voice came in through the coms letting him know that they’d taken care of the last of the stray agents and he quickly mumbled back that he was clear with you but he needed time. The numbness in his leg long forgotten. The serum in his veins would give him the time he needed.

It took a while before you calmed down again, breaths coming back in an even pace, steady exhales warm against his neck, and your grip on him slowly began to ease. There was something on your mind, something you were ruminating about, because he could feel the heaviness behind your breaths and the subtle twitch in your hands. Bucky swallowed, knowing what was coming.

“You were going to let me kill you, weren’t you?”

Your voice was soft, aching, and so quiet Bucky almost didn’t hear it, but it still managed to make his heart skip a beat. He sighed, not knowing what the right answer was, so he landed on the truth.

“Yes.”

Pulling back, you met his eye and he saw a world of pain swimming behind your irises. “How could you—why would you--” you exhaled, trying to steady yourself, “do you still want to die?”

Bucky’s features softened immediately. He didn’t know how you found out about that, about the darkest moments of his life when he let his secret slip to Steve that night in a Hydra base after he’d killed a dozen men. You were smart, though, intuitive beyond measure, so he shouldn’t be surprised you put the pieces together.

“No,” he responded honestly, sincerely, and the answer would have shocked him if someone had asked him a few months prior. “No, sweetheart, I don’t. I’ve got too much worth living for now, but I... I wasn’t going to let him hurt you, Y/n. It wasn’t a death wish, but it was the only thing I could do to make sure you got out of there alive.”

You shook your head, tears sliding down your face. “But what about you? You think I’d just be okay after all that? You think I’d be able to just move on, that I’d be fine, after I-- I killed you?”

“You’d be alive.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“I know,” Bucky sighed, his hand trailing up the side of your neck and cupping your cheek. You leaned further into his touch, and he brushed his thumb over your cheekbone to capture the tears as they fell. “The one time I was able to break through the conditioning was when I almost killed Steve. I thought... maybe if it came to that, if you were ready to pull the trigger, you might snap out of it like I did.”

“That’s a hell of a bet, Buck.”

Your voice was aching, shaken, and Bucky could hear the lingering heartbreak present behind every word. He knew the gravity of what he was saying, knew he was basically telling you he’d rather you kill him than have to watch you die again, but it was the truth and he was never going to lie to you. Not after all you’d been through.

You collapsed back against his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him and Bucky didn’t say anything else. He just held you because it was the best he could do, the most he could offer because he’d been where you are right now. He knew what it was like for something so evil and vile to snake its way into your mind and rip you from your body, to watch yourself commit violent acts and have no control of your hands as you pulled triggers on countless victims. He knew the war going on in your mind and the painstaking guilt of it being him on the end of the barrel, the same way it had once been Steve on the end of his.

It changed you. Broke you.

It broke him, too.

***

You didn’t know how long you laid there with him until he finally called for Steve over the coms, letting him know they he was ready for the team to head to the east wing now that things had settled down. One by one they all filtered into the room and you kept your hold tight on Bucky’s waist, face pressed against his neck.

A short glimpse over your shoulder and you found a deep red gash over Steve’s forehead, cracks and chips in the paint of Tony’s suit, blood trailing down Natasha’s arm from the cut of a knife to her shoulder, and a varying mixture of blood, dirt, and dust covering over most of Sam’s exposed skin.

Steve carefully kneeled down by Cain’s body and checked for a pulse he wouldn’t find. You had emptied nearly two full clips into the man. He’d been dead by the third bullet.

Slowly, the team started to piece together what had happened. The open wound in Bucky’s thigh, the red emblem of the Hydra symbol on your chest and the faint markings of black paint around your eyes, eerily similar to what they made Bucky wear the first time he encountered the team on the highway in D.C. The red in your eyes and the flush in your cheeks and they all knew without asking what the man with the scar down his face made you do.

It was Natasha that carefully pried you away from Bucky. He whispered soothing praises in your ear, reminded you he was okay, that he was right here, and wasn’t going anywhere, and you reluctantly released him from your grasp. You curled up against Nat as Steve and Sam propped Bucky up between them so he could favor his right leg.

You muttered another apology to him as he tried to put pressure on it but recoiled in pain, and he was quick to remind you it wasn’t your fault. Sweet, encouraging, lovely smile on his face and he reminded you again and again, because he meant it with everything in him and if he believed you when you said it to him about the horrible things he’d done under Hydra’s control, he’d find a way to make you believe it too.

Nat led you down the hall behind them to the med bay. She tried to steer you away from the chaos of bodies and SHIELD agents you encountered along the way, but it was no use. There were too many of them. SHIELD agents cuffing the Hydra affiliates they managed to capture alive, cleaning crews coming in to remove the dead bodies and the pools of blood in their wake. Tony urged the rest of you on while he stayed behind to help organize where to send the Hydra agents for custody.

Some of the Hydra agents tried to taunt you as you walked by, sneering at their emblem on your chest and calling you ‘Destroyer’, but Steve had left Bucky in Sam’s hold just long enough to scare the men into keeping their mouths shut as he flung his shield into the wall just above one of the men’s head. It clipped off the ends of his hair as it embedded itself into the wall and the room silence immediately.

Tony rolled his eyes, listing off another task that needed to be taken care of to the damage control staff as he yanked the shield out from the wall.

Steve grumbled under his breath, sending a wink at you, before he swung Bucky’s arm back over his shoulders and continued down the hall. You surprised yourself as a soft smile lifted your chapped lips to see the agent quivering where he sat.

When you made it back to the med bay, Dr. Cho was waiting with a bandage over her head and a kinder smile on her face than you deserved after you’d attacked her less than an hour earlier. Steve and Sam helped Bucky into the bed and she cut a strip up his pant leg to expose the bullet wound on his thigh.

A team of nurses came up behind you and tried to pull you out of the room to examine you themselves but a jolt of panic rushed through you, eyes catching on Bucky and he sat up further on the bed.

“She’s fine here,” he ordered, glancing to Dr. Cho who nodded at the nurses to step back.

“I’ll examine Agent Y/l/n myself once I’ve finished with Sergeant Barnes,” she said and you exhaled a steady breath, leaning into Natasha as she helped usher you to the seat by Bucky’s bed.

Slumping into the chair, Bucky reached down and grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them tenderly, enough to remind you he was there and to keep your head from spinning in the clouds. You smiled at him though it didn’t reach your eyes, but he understood. It was the most you could manage for now.

Dr. Cho worked silently as she retracted the bullet lodged in his thigh. Bucky did his best to keep his face stoic, to not let you have to see an ounce of pain as Dr. Cho pulled the metal fragments from his leg, but the subtle twitch of his upper lip and the furrow of his brow were enough. You squeezed his hand harder, a silent apology and Bucky turned to you, softening his features quickly and tugged you closer to him. Always so understanding, so forgiving, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A few hours later, after Dr. Cho used some kind of laser to seal Bucky’s wound together and she attended to the minor scars and scraps on your arms, Tony came barreling in with a laptop with Sam and Steve hot on his heels. Natasha sauntered in after them casually and sent you a wink before she collapsed into the chair in the corner of the room.

“So, I found out who the asshole with the scar is,” Tony grunted, propping the laptop up on the edge of the bed. An image of Cain illuminated in the top right corner of the screen and you leaned in closer to Bucky, feeling your heartrate elevate just as the sight of that man.

“Alex Cainning,” Tony started, “was dishonorably discharged from the US Army back in 2010 for a series of physical altercations against his own unit members. Made him an easy recruit for Hydra. Looks like he was a part of the Winter Soldier project for a few years, too.”

You looked to Bucky, wide eyed, to find he was just as surprised. He’d recognized Cain’s voice but he had assumed it was from the videos, not because he’d known him in his past life under Hydra. It would explain his vendetta against Bucky for escaping.

“So, he’s a certified bad guy,” Sam shrugged, rolling his eyes, “he’s dead. What does this matter?”

Tony pursed his lips, sending a scowl in Sam’s direction, before turned back to you and Bucky. “I thought the two people whose lives have been uprooted by this monster might want to know that because of this intel, we tracked down the base he held Y/n at. I’ve got a team of agents heading there as we speak to blow the joint to kingdom come.”

“That includes the machine they used to condition both of you,” Steve added, a hopeful edge of lips curving up at the ends.

Bucky nodded, a wave of relief present on his face and you pressed yourself to his side, arm wrapping over his waist as he pulled you tight against him. Warm and solid and tangible in your hands, you breathed him in, smelling of copper and sweat and lingering florals from your body wash. The never-ending enigma that was Bucky Barnes.

“It’s really over?” he asked cautiously, unsure, because it never had been before.

Tony nodded. “We’ll have to ship Y/n off to Wakanda soon so Shuri can get those words out of her head, but the good news is that she already has the procedure down after spending all that time experimenting on Barnes.”

You laughed into Bucky’s chest, smile obstructed by the thick Kelvar of his vest but he could feel the movement in your back, the vibration in your chest, and it eased him more than anything else. Tony went onto explain the logistics, of how he was readying a jet as they spoke and had already put in a call to T’Challa to let him know you’d be on your way. Shuri was more than excited to have someone else to test her procedure on and while Bucky stiffened at that, you only laughed more.

It was an odd feeling, to have such laughter in your chest and smiles on your faces while you wore a Hydra emblem on your suit and Bucky was held up in a hospital bed from the bullet you’d shot into his leg. But your world was full of chaos and unpredictability and nothing was ever guaranteed. This makeshift family of yours was the only constant in your life, the dynamics between them, the push and pull, the teasing and the heartbreak.

They would hold you together. Even through the worst. They’d pull you back from darkness.

----

ahh one more chapter to go! feedback is always so so appreciated! pls reblog and comment if you enjoyed

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