#''Local Man Raised To Rely On Only Himself And Not Others For Self-Preservation Is Confused By Others' Willingness To Protect Him''

[butwhatifidothis]

Will never forgive certain parts of the fandom for letting the idea of "Claude being confused over Hilda's willingness to die for him is a showing of how morally lacking he is" become an idea that's any kind of popular.

This man spent the first 15-16 years of his life having basically no friends and having everyone around him either trying to murder him outright for attributes about himself he had no control over or otherwise forced him to completely fend for himself against said attempts on his life (Parents of the Year), but he's supposed to just accept that he has someone willing to die protecting him? With that someone being a person who presented herself as someone who would never do exactly that (and who in fact genuinely believed that she would never do that)? After he'd told them to retreat if things got dicey?

His parents literally wouldn't even lift a finger to help stop people trying to murder their child - they told his ass to Get Gud or perish. But him being horrified and baffled that someone would die for him means he's a shitty person who never actually cared for anyone in Fodlan. What complete balderdash

[wkemeup]

The Witness (9)

series summary: After witnessing a Hydra hit and the handsome, borderline endearing cop who had become a regular at your bar takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

pairing: detective!bucky x reader

word count: 7.9k

warnings: torture, serious injury, ANGST !!!

author’s note: I was going to split this into two chapters but I didn’t want to be too cruel.... 😅Prepare for angst 

series masterlist // previous chapter

You woke with a harsh jolt to find yourself in a dark room. Squinting your eyes, you struggled to adjust to the lack of lightening, save for the dim flickering of the single bulb hanging down from a thin metal chain at the center of the room. You attempted to stand and you furrowed your brow when you felt a tug on your arms. Eyes trailed down to your arms to find restraints wrapped tightly around your wrists, binding you to some kind of wooden chair. You move to kick your legs, only to find them adhered to the chair as well.

Panic began to rise in your throat as your heart pounded loudly in your ears when you heard a soft groan ahead of you. Eyes snapping up to a figure sitting just a few feet away, bound in a similar fashion, chin resting on his chest.

It was dark, too dark to see clearly, but you could recognize that silhouette anywhere. Bucky.

Before you could call his name, the overhead lights flashed on, blinding you briefly at the intrusion. You squeezed your eyes shut, light still seeping in from behind the lids as you slowly blinked to adjust. When you finally opened your eyes again, you realized you and Bucky were not alone.

Rumlow stood just next to the door, leaning against the wall with a smirk upon his face. His arms folded over his chest as he pulled his finger away from the light switch. You tore your eyes away from him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

Bucky had yet to regain consciousness but he was slowly coming to; head lulling side to side, trying to come back into himself. Having grown impatient, Rumlow made his way to the center of the room as grabbed a tight hold of Bucky’s hair, jerking his head up harshly to face you. A dark trail of dried blood ran down the side of his face where Rumlow likely hit him with the base of the gun to knock him out.

They must have done some damage to him after you lost consciousness, you realized. He didn’t have that kind of purple and blue bruising on his jaw or a swollen eye when you last saw him. You felt a painful ache in your stomach the longer you looked at him.

“Time to wake up, asshole,” Rumlow gritted, gesturing for a man standing beyond the door. He walked into the room; tall, dark black hair swept away from his face, with a boyish, handsome look about him despite his strong jawline. He didn’t look the Hydra type but as he chucked a barrel of ice water at Bucky and snickered under his breath when Bucky let out a pained gasp, shocked back into consciousness, you knew this man's affiliations were exactly where they belonged.

Bucky panted as the water dripped down his hair, soaking his clothes. He was shivering violently, limbs restricted by the restraints. Wide eyes met yours and panic burned behind shades of blue. He scanned you briefly, looking for injuries, before his gaze fell on your neck. You imagined there was some redness, maybe bruising from the man who had kept you hostage out on the street, because he clenched down enough on his bit to draw blood.

Then, a cough to his left from the man holding the now empty bucket. Slowly, Bucky turned to face him and his features hardened impatiently. He clenched his jaw, muscle twitching at the effort.

“Ward... you fucking piece of shit,” Bucky seethed and almost immediately after, he was met with a violent fist against the side of his face. You gasped, flinching instinctively, as the sound of his knuckles collided against Bucky’s jaw. Bucky chuckled darkly, turning to spit out a mouthful of blood before he looked back up at Ward through narrowed eyes.

“Nice to see you again, too, Detective,” Ward replied smugly, shaking his hand off.

This was the officer Sam suspected to be the mole at the one-four. Clad in a tight black t-shirt and dark wash jeans, you almost didn’t recognize him outside of the blue uniform. It had been a blur when you saw him leaning over the woman in the breakroom the first time you had set foot in the station after Charlie’s murder.

Ward bent down, kneeling at Bucky’s eye level, studying him carefully. “You’re not gonna ask me why I did it?”

Bucky shrugged, sending him a rather disinterested look. “I always knew you were a prick. Always figured if someone came along and offered you a bit of power, you’d bend right over like an obedient little--”

Ward charged at him, wrapping his hands around Bucky’s throat. A hitch in your breath as you watched, only settled as Bucky started to laugh again. How was he being so casual about this? It made your stomach twist into knots. His self-preservation instinct was long forgotten. Rumlow waved for Ward to back off and he obeyed immediately, dropping his hands. Bucky took a deep breath, stretching his neck, as he sent an amused look at Ward.

“Like I said,” Bucky taunted before he winked in Ward’s direction.

“You should watch yourself, Barnes,” Rumlow said, pacing around the room. “I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you. Considering who else is in the room.”

A hand slipping onto your shoulder, causing you to shiver. Bucky’s grin fell immediately and he began tugging at the restraints.

“Don’t touch her!” Bucky growled, staring daggers into Rumlow as he fought the bindings at his wrists. The chair, bolted to the ground, creaked under him as he struggled against it.

Rumlow shrugged and he removed his hand from you. A wave of relief rushed over you and you slumped further into the chair.

“You’re not in the position to be making demands, Detective,” Rumlow taunted. He gestured for something out beyond the hallway and Ward quickly slipped out the door. A rustling clanging came from down the hall, the sound of wheels, metal. Then, Ward reemerged in the room, pushing a shiny silver cart. On top, laid a series of scalpels, knives, and various tools. You swallow but your throat ran dry.

“Now,” Rumlow began, reaching down for the scalpel, admiring it as he held it up to the light. He turned to face you. “You’re going to tell me where your bastard father hid the flash drive or I’m going to start carving up that pretty face of yours.”

You narrowed your eyes, confusion completely replacing the fear for a brief, peaceful moment. “I don’t... I don’t know what you’re talking about."

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Rumlow snarled, charging towards you with the blade aimed at your cheek. You recoil against the cool metal as it touched your skin and you could vaguely make out Bucky shouting desperately to ‘get the hell away from her!’

The knife dug into your skin, drawing a thin line over your cheekbone, eliciting a hiss from you. It happened so quickly, over before it began, though the sting lingered. Rumlow pulled away, admiring his work. The blood that trickled down the side of your face and down your neck tickled. You stretched to wipe it with your shoulder.

“I don’t know anything about a flash drive,” you spat at him, adrenaline coursing in you enough to bolster your conviction.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Rumlow gritted. “Is that it? Do you think that I would keep you alive if you were nothing more than some pathetic witness to a hit no one gives a fuck about?”

You pressed your lips together. Truthfully, you had been wondering why they hadn’t just executed you in the middle of the street, or the very second his lackey opened the door to the car you had been hiding inside. They could have shot you on sight but they didn’t. It didn’t make sense if they were only trying to silence a loose end. Clearly, they needed you for something more.

“You know, we didn’t even realize Y/l/n had a daughter,” Rumlow explained, referring to your father as he wiped the edge of the bloodied scalpel on his pant leg. “Tricky bastard kept you to himself all those years. When Ward here brought us your name and you so happened to be running the same bar good ol’ Y/l/n used as his export hub, I went and put the pieces together.”

You could sense Bucky watching you, scanning you for signs of distress, of reaction, but you kept your features stone cold. You didn’t know your father had kept you a secret from Hydra. He never once mentioned it in all your years growing up or since he was locked away.

“Before the DEA nailed him, he managed to get ahold of a very important flash drive,” Rumlow continued, pacing around to your other side. You kept your stare on the floor by Bucky’s feet. “It has a list of all the undercover Hydra agents. Police force, local government, business owners, prosecutors, doctors, you name it. So, you see why it’s important you tell me where it’s at.”

You shook your head. “Doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t know it even existed until two minutes ago.”

“Fine,” Rumlow sneered. He exchanged glances with Ward. “We brought along the cop for a reason. Let’s test him out.”

You raised an eyebrow, dread sweeping over you as Ward quickly bent down and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s chest from behind him, holding him steady in the chair. Rumlow picked up the knife from the cart and in one foul sweep, lunged it down into Bucky’s hand, pinning it to the wood of the chair. You shrieked.  

Despite his best effort, Bucky let out a grunt, panting heavily as he clamped down on his jaw to keep himself from screaming. Your eyes had blown wide, heart stopping for what felt like several seconds as Ward and Rumlow retreated away, laughing amongst themselves. The knife was still lodged in Bucky’s hand as he wiggled his fingers.

“I don’t know anything about a flash drive!” you screamed, jerking your body against the restraints. They burned on your wrists, rubbing painfully at the skin. You could hardly feel it.

“And I don’t believe you!” Rumlow shot back reaching forward and yanking the knife from Bucky’s hand with no warning. He couldn’t hold back the shout this time as the serrated edges caught against his skin, blood spraying on the floor as Rumlow shook off the knife.

“Bucky!” Panic stung in your veins, desperate to get his attention.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, slowly lifting his head to meet your eye, though you could tell by the clench in his jaw and the twitching of his muscles he was lying. Blood dripped down his fingers onto the concrete below. “I’m okay, doll. Don’t tell ‘em shit.”

“Ain’t that sweet,” Ward grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

“Makes me a little sick, personally,” Rumlow replied as he picked up a fresh blade. You didn’t have time to react before Rumlow darted forward and plunged it into Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky shouted, his voice aching and raw, hands clenching at the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned sheet white.

“Stop!” you cried, tears welling in your eyes before you could hold them back. “Please! I don’t know anything! My father never told me about a flash drive!”

“Not good enough,” Rumlow growled, yanking out the knife and cutting a long jagged line up Bucky’s forearm, trailing blood in its wake. Bucky flinched, his face contorting to swallow back the pain, though it did little to ease his suffering.

It went on like this for what felt like hours. Back and forth. Rumlow would ask you about the flash drive you knew nothing about. Unsatisfied with your answer, he’d plunge another knife into Bucky or carve his way across Bucky’s skin. After they bloodied the visible skin on his forearms, they ripped open his shirt, exposing fresh skin and spent a particular amount of time carving small, deep, concentrated marks into Bucky’s left shoulder, marring it over completely.

Tears were streaming down your face and you begged for Bucky to look at you, but he was becoming so light-headed he could barely focus on what was right in front of him, let alone meet your eye. His head was bobbing, dizzy from the blood loss, from the constant pain. He had stopped crying out several cuts ago. It was like his body had grown numb. You wanted to feel relief at this, that he no longer seemed to be in pain, but it only seemed to make the pit in your stomach worse.

“Please,” you begged on an endless loop, exhausted from the exertion, “please, leave him alone.”

Your chin fell against your chest, unable to watch as Ward and Rumlow continued snickering to themselves, taking turns marking up Bucky’s skin and drawing blood. You wished you were stronger, that you could have held yourself together for Bucky’s sake, but when faced with the worst of humanity you knew there was nothing you could do to stop it. There was nothing but helplessness.

A flash of gold caught your eye and you looked down to find your necklace as swung out from behind your shirt in the struggle. You stared at it, a resentment building the longer you felt it weigh against the rise and fall of your chest. Your father had been nothing but a liar. He had told you once it was meant to protect you. Some good luck charm it was. It was nothing but a hunk of metal. Unless. Pointless. Maybe if it was worth something you could have leveraged it for--

Your breath hitched.

Holy shit.

Leverage. Blackmail.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“S-Stop, please, Brock,” you gasped, your voice having grown hoarse from screaming. Rumlow paused, glancing over to you, intrigued by the use of his first name. You met his eye, heart racing painfully beneath the pendent. “I’ll... I’ll tell you where it is.”

Rumlow raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Ward. Bucky slumped over as they pulled away from him, giving his body an ounce of relief. You swallowed despite the dryness in your throat, keeping your eyes training on Bucky. He lifted his head slowly, as if it took all of the energy left in him to do so. He narrowed his eyes on you, apprehensive of your confession.

“Well, sweetheart, let’s have it,” Rumlow urged, a near jittery excitement in his voice.

“First, tell me why you killed Charlie,” you bargained, a newfound confidence surging behind the layers of anger and anguish he elicited with every carve to Bucky’s skin.

Rumlow smiled at the that, seemingly impressed. He shrugged. “That old man? Just orders from the chief. I don’t ask questions.”

“I’m sure you have your suspicions,” you countered and you're not surprised when he nods. He began twirling a small blade between his fingers.

“He was a known partner of your father’s. We suspected he knew of the list,” Rumlow explained, ever so keen to monologue. “When it became obvious he didn’t, he was nothing more than a liability. He had to be dealt with.”

You sighed, feeling no respite from his reasoning. Rumlow raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. When you took a moment too long, he groaned impatiently and lunged the blade he had been fidgeting with straight into Bucky’s abdomen.

“MY BAR! It’s at my bar!” you shrieked, panicked as Bucky barely even recoiled at the intrusion, and Rumlow removed the knife. You didn’t dare take your eyes off Bucky for even a moment. Blood streamed down the small ripples of his exposed stomach; dark red oozing and coating over his skin until it dripped onto the floor beneath him.

“There’s a safe under the cash register,” you continued, voice shaking, “Inside, you’ll find a rifle. On the back wall of the safe, in the upper left corner is a latch. Open it and the flash drive will be in there.”

Then, you turned to face Rumlow, a look full of distain and loathing upon your features. Rumlow grinned, shaking his head with a laugh. He walked over to Bucky and slapped his hand on his wounded shoulder, coating his palm in blood.

“Would you look at that? You’re expendable, Barnes. Even to her,” Rumlow taunted, removing his hand and wiping it along Bucky’s chest, smearing the blood.

Rumlow picked up the gun from the table, cocking it loudly. “Now, if I get to that bar and I don’t find the flash drive, better believe I’ll be coming right back here to ask again and next time I won’t be so nice about it. You understand?”

You nodded carefully, keeping your expression as void of emotion as you could manage. Rumlow gestured for Ward to follow. He sent one last wink in your direction over his shoulder before the door latched shut, clicking several locks in place before you were alone again.

“You shouldn’t have lied to them,” Bucky gurgled weakly before he spit blood from his mouth. It dripped down his lips as he struggled to meet you eye. He was swaying, barely able to keep his head up.

“What choice did I have?” you replied, eyes flashing towards the closed door. “They were killing you, Bucky. Besides, I couldn’t let them know I figured out where it really was.”

“You what?”

“I think it’s in my necklace,” you confessed, and Bucky’s eyes narrowed on the gold pendent. “I told you my father said it would protect me but... I don’t think he meant in the way I thought.”

Bucky slumped, shaking his head in disbelief.

“He knew it would be all the leverage I needed if Hydra ever came after me,” you explained. “If I turn this thing over to the feds and they'd give me whatever I wanted. New life somewhere nice. New identity. This necklace could be the key to taking down Hydra for good. Maybe even expose their entire operation.”

Bucky nodded, trying to take in what you were saying but his eyes were falling heavy.

“I wish he had been a little less cryptic about it,” you huffed, the semblance of a smile on the curve of your lips. “That would have been helpful information a few months ago.”

Bucky smiled, ever so slightly, but it fell just as quickly, his energy not allowing him much else. His head bobbed forward and you could tell he was fighting losing consciousness. Dark red pooled on the concrete beneath him. He’d lost too much blood.

“Bucky!”

He jolted upright, blinking rapidly.

“I need you to stay awake, you hear me?” you begged, tugging on your restraints. He nodded drowsily.

A moment of silence. The room filled with nothing but the sound of your breaths and the drops of Bucky’s blood from down his elbow to the concrete floor.

“What happens when they come back and they found out you lied to them?”

You licked your dried lips. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I just needed to do something to get them away from you.”

“You can’t tell them about the necklace,” Bucky pressed, though his voice was weak. He was using all of his energy just to meet your eye. “No matter what they do to me, you can’t give that up. Do you understand?”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “Bucky, they could--”

“I know,” he exhaled, eyes falling to the floor. “They might kill me. But think of all the people who lives you’ll save if you can get that thing to Steve. You have to think of the greater good, here.”

“Screw the greater good, I’m not going to let you die!”

“You might have to, sweetheart,” Bucky slurred, his voice trailing off as his head slumped forward again. You waited a moment for him to jostle himself back to consciousness, but when a moment too long passed by and he hadn’t moved, a jolt of panic ripped through you.

“Bucky?”

He remained still. Hair had fallen into his eyes; his fingers having lost their tight grip on the arms of the chair.

“Bucky!” you shouted his name again, jerking your body towards him. The restraints against you bound you in place, rendering you as nothing but a witness, helpless.

“Bucky, wake up!”

Again, nothing.

You froze, tears in your eyes blurring your vision. “No, no no nonono. Come on, wake up! Don’t do this!”

You let out an aggravated scream as you tugged at the restraints with all of your strength. Then, a subtle click and your right hand hitched a little further, a small space between your skin and the wood of the chair. The crisp air stung against the burns as you stared down at it in shock. You tugged again, wincing at the tension against your raw skin. Then, the sound of a light tearing at the stitching ripped. You pulled at it carefully and the cuff slowly fell to the ground. You lifted your hand examining the ruby red burn marks upon your skin. In the moment of relief, your eyes glanced back at Bucky to find him still unresponsive.

Frantically, you began working at your left wrist, feeling around the underside of the chair for the buckle. Once you were able to undo the latch on your left wrist with ease compared to your right, you bent over and began working at the bindings on your ankles. Tiny marks of blood oozed from your wrists from the burn of the restraints, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pay much attention to it as you freed your legs from the chair.

Unrestricted, you sprang to your feet and all but lunged at Bucky. Harsher than you meant to, you gripped the sides of his face, jerking his head to you. You brushed the hair from his eyes to get a better look at him, wincing at you touched the open wound on his forehead. Eyes shut and lips parted slightly; he was out cold. You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before you released him and knelt by his side to start undoing the binds on his wrists.

Right hand undone he slumped forward towards you and you placed a steady hand on his unmarked shoulder for support. Then, a moment later, his left was loose.

“Almost there, baby,” you whispered under your breath, unfastening the restraints on his legs. Once he was free, you stood back to your feet, pulling his right arm around your shoulders and hulled him upwards. You only got him standing for a few seconds before the dead weight kicked in and the weight of him brought you both to the ground.

“Shit,” you cursed, turning Bucky onto his back so he wasn’t putting pressure on the wounded left shoulder. A smear of blood imprinted on the concrete in its wake.

Eyes glancing towards the door every few seconds, waiting for Rumlow and Ward to walk through at any second, you scurried back to your feet and tried to ignore the amount of blood that Bucky was leaving behind in this room. You bent down to lift him again, exerting all of your energy as you tugged on his right arm. Sweat beaded on your forehead and you still hadn’t been able to get him off the ground. You collapsed with an exasperated pant, wiping the sweat from your hairline.  

“Go,”

Your eyes snapped up to find Buck blinking slowly, just on the edge of consciousness. You scrambled over to him, crawling on your knees over the harsh indents in the concrete until you leaned above him, hands brushing the hair from his eyes.

“Leave me,” he mumbled again, voice so quiet on the edge of a breath you could barely understand him. His hand, covered in dark red, reached out for you and you clasped your hands around it, the sticky wetness of the blood pooling between your palms. Tears burned in your eyes as you shook your head rapidly.

“Don’t ask that of me,” you begged, a pang in your chest as Bucky’s head slumped to the side. He was losing consciousness again. “Don’t you dare.”

“They’ll be back soon,” Bucky exhaled heavily, his eyes falling shut. “Please, go.”

“I’m not leaving you!” you cried, shaking him as his body fell limp, unresponsive once again. With a paralyzing fear throbbing in your veins, unsure you’d ever want to know the answer, you adjusted your grip on his hand, feeling for his wrist and pressing two fingers to his pulse point.

Slowly, faintly, you felt a steady rhythm beneath your touch. A sob raked through you and you leaned down, setting your head on his chest, tears dripping from the bridge of your nose to his scarred skin.

You clenched your hands into fists. They were covered in his blood.

***

What could have been hours later, you still hadn’t moved. Your legs had cramped, muscles sore against the cool, impossibly hard surface of the ground. There was no way to tell the passage of time in this room. All you knew was eventually, Rumlow and Ward would return and when they did, that would be it.

Bucky was right. You wouldn’t be able to give Rumlow the necklace, not in exchange for your own life and not for Bucky’s. Not when, in the right hands, it could expose the vilest organization the city had ever known and destroy them from the inside out. The same organization that corrupted your father, a man down on his luck in his early thirties who had stumbled his way into trafficking drugs when he couldn’t pay back his small business loans. They had promised him help in his time of need and then drowned him in a debt he’d never be able to repay, not without joining their cause.

You’d die before you let that happen to another family.

Head throbbing from the very exertion of crying for so long, you found you had nothing left in you. Perhaps you were too dehydrated at this point for more tears. You sat next to Bucky, holding his right hand tightly in your own, pressing your lips against the broken knuckles, trying to memorize the feeling. You wiped the fresh blood away against your jeans, leaving behind a light red stain on his skin.

You had tied makeshift bandages to his arm, stomach, and hand, made of the spare pieces of Bucky’s shirt they had ripped in order to find more canvas to carve upon. They were soaked red with blood.

Bucky’s head rested in your lap and you ran your free hand through his hair, praying he would find some sense of peace amongst the pain in his body. Careful strokes against his scalp, watching the involuntary twitches in his face and you pretended he was only sleeping.

Then, a rustling came from the other side of the door.

Scattered footsteps.

A series of loud grunts and a clanging against the door.

You couldn’t bring yourself feel even a semblance of fear. You knew Rumlow would lose it when he saw you and Bucky out of the restraints. Perhaps it would all be over soon and he’d forget about the flash drive and kill you on the spot. The idea brought you some relief, at least.

The locks on the door began to click and the heavy metal frame swung open. You turned away from the two men walking inside, cast in shadows by the influx of light behind them. Entirely unwilling to face the monsters that had torn and carved and mutilated the man you loved. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of your fear.

When Rumlow and Ward returned, you had expected screaming, cursing, harsh hands lunging down at you and yanking Bucky away. You expected rage and punishment; anything other than the complete silence that followed. Glancing up at them, you narrow your eyes suspiciously as one of the men fell to their knees with a heavy thud.

Eyes slowly coming into focus, adjusting to the light now absorbed in the room, your heart nearly gave out at the sight. Blonde hair. Blue eyes.

Steve.

His hands were reaching out to Bucky, drifting over the wound on his abdomen then to the one on his arm where had blood soaked through the makeshift bandages. Hovering carefully over the mess of bloody patches on his left shoulder, Steve let out a painful sigh. He brushed at his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking his head. He didn’t even know where to start. You didn’t know either.

“We gotta get them out of here, Cap,” the voice behind him urged, stealing glances back out the open doorway. Tony.

Steve nodded quickly, seemingly coming back into himself as his arms slid under Bucky's broken body in an effort to lift him. Suddenly, your hands jutted out, gripping at Bucky reflexively.

Wide eyes bore into Steve’s and you tried to form words but nothing came out. You clenched at Bucky, trying desperately to draw him closer. You were shaking so violently that Steve set hand his atop of yours. You swallowed, tears blinking in your eyes as they fell in streaks amongst the dried blood on your cheeks.

“I- I tried to—”

“I know,” Steve assured you softly, not needing to know the rest of your confession before he absolved you. He squeezed your hands lightly, enough to communicate a world of regret, and slowly pulled your grip away from Bucky’s arms. Soft blue eyes that reminded you so much of Bucky’s did not leave yours for even a moment as he carefully set your hands to the side.

“I’m going to get him somewhere safe, Y/n. But I gotta do it right now. Do you trust me?”

You stare at him, a glimpse of uncertainty tugging at you, the knowledge of the Hydra infestation in the police force prominent in the back of your head. But as you watched his eyes fall down to Bucky, the panic and fear so abundantly evident upon his face, you reached up and gripped the pendent around your neck. With one hard tug, you yanked at the chain until it snapped, holding it out for him. It was the first time you had taken it off since you put it on all those years ago. He narrowed his eyes on you, looking back to exchange a glance with Tony.

“Take it,” you begged, jerking your hand towards him. The gold burned against your skin.

Steve nodded slowly, holding his hand out as you dropped it into his palm. He stuffed it into his pocket, a clear confused look in his eyes though he didn’t question it. There wasn’t time.

You slowly dragged yourself away from Bucky, giving Steve the room he needed to hull Bucky over his shoulder, draped like a rag doll. He grunted as he stood, legs trembling as his right arm snuck up around Bucky’s side to hold him secure on his shoulder. You watched, curled against the wall as Steve made his way towards the door, Bucky’s body dangling, blood dripping onto the floor with every step, lifeless.

“Hey kiddo,” Tony’s voice called softly, pulling you from your trance. You turned to find him taking a knee next to you. He offered you a careful smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

You nodded, taking his hand as he offered it to you. When you didn’t let go, he didn’t say anything. You were thankful for that, at least. He guided you steadily to the door and instructed you to keep your eyes up. There wasn’t a moment to question what he meant before your foot caught on something just past the door. You looked down to find the bloodied body of a Hydra agent lying face up, eyes staring off unfocused at the ceiling. You swallowed and Tony urged you on.

By the time you walked outside, you were surprised to find the sky had covered in a layer in dark blue. Hadn’t it been morning when you were taken? How long had you been held in that room? You squeezed at Tony’s hand in some attempt to find comfort in it the way Bucky had done for you, but there was a gold band around his ring finger that ripped at your fantasy. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel right. He wasn’t Bucky.

Tony led you down the stairs of the building, guiding you out towards the flashing blue and red lights illuminating the empty parking lot. You looked up to find you didn’t recognize a single building around you. It was too spacious, for one. You couldn’t be within the city limits.

“W-where’s Bucky?” you asked, glancing to Tony. You couldn’t find Steve anywhere amongst the sea of officers clad in uniform blue. Tony gestured to the ambulance at the end of the road, roaring its siren and speeding off in a sharp right turn that took it out of view.

“There wasn’t time to wait,” Tony replied, watching for your reaction. He must have sensed the panic creeping in your veins because he added, “Steve’s with him. He’s not alone.”

Heart falling back to a normal pace, you nodded slowly. You pressed your lips into a thin line, the most of a smile your body would allow. You knew Tony and Bucky didn’t get along, but you appreciated his attempt to ease your concern. Tony was a complex man; one that went from interrogating you, demanding intel on Hydra he believed you knew in your first interaction, to sharing a glass of scotch a few months later as he took up shift as your bodyguard of the day. A good single malt healed most wounds.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes snap up, searching for the voice. Tony led you down to the sidewalk and you spotted Sam rushing in your direction. His forearm was bandaged up, his other held in a sling with a massive bandage wrapped around his shoulder where the bullet had pierced through him. He shoved past an officer, mumbling an apology as he gripped the man’s elbow for support.

Tony stepped aside, moving to scold a reporter who had impatiently crossed the yellow tape, and you threw yourself at Sam. You wrapped yourself against his good side, holding your arms around his waist as he stroked your back with his free arm. He smelled faintly of disinfectant and cologne.

“Come on,” Sam urged, glancing around at the officers gathered in a circle talking to one another. “I’ll sneak you to the hospital before the press gets winds of you.”

You nodded, keeping a tight hold on him as he weaved you through the crowd. His hand pressed into your back, keeping you grounded against him as you approached the mass of reporters and cameras. Sam threw the edge of his jacket around you and you kept your head down when he asked, obstructing the view of your face so you could slip through unrecognized. When you reached the police car sitting at the edge of the crowd, you exhaled a breath of relief.

“Are you okay to drive?” you asked Sam warily, eyeing his injured shoulder.

He shrugged as he unlatched the driver’s side door. “I got myself here in one piece. Figure if I can escape from the hospital and one very pissed off nurse and drive to the warehouse where some psychopath is holding my friends hostage without crashing, I can get my partner’s girl back to him just fine.”

As you slid into the passenger's seat, you were surprised to find a smile tugging on the cracks in your lips. It hurt a little but you didn’t mind. Sam dropped in next to you, closing the door behind him and he nudged you gently on the shoulder.

“He’s in good hands, you know,” Sam offered, turning on the ignition. “Best surgeons available for New York’s finest.”

You nodded, feeling a semblance of relief in your chest before, “what about Nat? And Peter?”

“Still in surgery last I checked,” Sam replied, sensing your influx in anxiety. He pulled out into the road and made the right turn the ambulance had taken. “The bullet that caught Romanoff clipped the edge of an artery so it’s taking longer than expected. Parker, he uh,” Sam sighed, his fingers clenching the wheel, “he had a lot of burns from the explosion and a piece of the car got jammed up in his leg. It’ll be a while before he’s out.”

You watched him carefully, studying the way his jaw clenched. It was so familiar. You’d seen it too many times at this point. It broke your heart.

“You cops need to learn to put the blame on the assholes who deserve it,” you said flatly, almost in a scolding tone. “Not yourselves.”

Sam chuckled under his breath, nodding to himself as he looked over in your direction. You offered him a small smile which he returned with ease.

It was always easy with Sam. There were never any expectations or pressure to put on a mask. He didn’t question your panicked flinch when you had reached up to clutch at your necklace, only to find it wasn’t there or when several minutes passed by between telling you some mundane story from the one-four to ease your mind before you’d respond.  

He was smarter than most gave him credit for, more observant too. He’d deny it though, waving it off through some kind of witty one-liner or changing the subject. Sam preferred to be the source of light in the one-four. He kept to his pranks and his flirting and his banter that drove Bucky insane because he knew they needed it. Maybe, he needed it a little too.

When he came up on a red light on the border of the city line, you swallowed the dryness in your throat, turning to face him. You had spent the last several minutes trying to build up the courage to tell him about what you learned from Rumlow. Part of you wanted to wait until you got to the hospital, afraid of how he might react. But, as he glanced over at you with that encouraging smile of his, you figured now was as good a time as any to tell him one of their own was betraying them.

“You were right.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Ward,” you continued with a heavy breath, “Ward’s the mole.”

A tilt of his head, a shrug in his shoulder, and sighed. He was calm, too calm for the reaction you were expecting.

“I know,” Sam confessed after the light turned green and he pressed down slowly on the gas. “I had a few of our officers' stationed at your bar, just in case. Thought maybe they’d send some of their goons out there to trash the place for fun. Ward and Rumlow walked right into it; friggin’ idiots. Barton arrested them a few hours ago. It was how Steve and Tony knew where to find you.”

You bit down on your lip, sinking back into the passenger seat in shock. “And they’re able to hold them?”

Sam laughed at that. “Hell yeah. We’ve got enough evidence against Rumlow to keep him behind bars until his trial. Ward will be a little tougher to stick, but Commander Fury isn’t going to let him out of his sight.”

“It feels too easy,” you sighed.

Sam shrugged. “Sometimes things are allowed to be easy. You don’t always gotta question when things go right for once.”

“Maybe,” you said, staring at the window as the blur of city lights came into view. “Haven't had a lot go right in my life.”

“Could be a good time to start,” Sam offered sincerely. He paused. Then, “on second thought, might want to hold that off until after we can restore your bar again. It kinda got caught in the crossfire. Rumlow and Ward didn’t go down without a fight and the place suffered a bit for it.”

“Had to be something, right?” you shook your head, the smile against your broken lips aching your cheeks. Good ol’ Sam.

***

The rest of the ride to the hospital was silent; comfortable, just watching as the colored lights blurred together as you passed by, listening to Sam hum softly under his breath to whatever was on the radio. It was almost as if the last 24 hours hadn’t happened. The stinging around your wrists and the faded red stains in your skin the only reminders.

He left the police car out front and asked one of the officers stationed by the door to park it around back for him. You appreciated Sam for that. He knew better than to leave your side, even if it was with one his uniforms. Couldn’t trust anyone but their own, and for now, that meant a small circle within the one-four.

Sam led you to the elevator and up to the eleventh floor where Steve was waiting. He sat in the far corner of the empty waiting room, tapping his foot and wringing his hands as he leaned over his knees. It smelled of cleaning supplies and the disinfectant wipes you had recognized on Sam earlier. As the elevator doors shut behind you, Steve’s head popped up having noticed your arrival.

“They took him back to the OR a few minutes ago,” Steve said before you could ask. He was good about that. He wiped his palms on his slacks and stood to his feet, making his way over to you. “Why don’t you take a seat? We’ll see if one of the nurses can come take a look at you.”

You nodded apprehensively. “Any word on Peter or Nat?”

Steve clenched his jaw as he set a hand on your back to lead you over to the chairs. Sam was already over at the nursing station.

“They’ll be finishing up with Natasha any minute now. Last update they said they were closing her up. She’ll need a ton of PT, which I’m sure she’ll despise, but she’s stable. She’ll be just fine,” Steve said with a sad smile. He took a deep breath. “Parker is still in surgery. A piece of metal from the car got lodged in his leg during the explosion and he, he suffered a lot of burns. They’re trying to do as much as they can right now to limit how much work they’ll need to do later. It’ll be a long recovery but he’s a strong kid. If anyone’s got the optimism for it, it’s him.”

Pang of guilt burned in your chest and your tried to remind yourself exactly where the blame belonged instead of taking it on yourself. It didn’t stop the ache in your stomach when you thought of him; sweet, young, energetic Peter with an endearing nervous energy, one of the trusted few members of the one-four who happily agreed to walk you to your bar every night without question. He was too good, too kind for this job. You prayed to a God you weren’t sure you believed in that he wouldn’t lose that piece of him.

Steve helped you sit down in the chair facing the long hallway where you expected the surgeon emerged from to deliver updates. He took a seat next to you and you could feel his eyes on you, looking for injury outside of the cut along your cheek.

“Did you look at the flash drive yet?” you asked quietly, glancing over at the nurse's station where Sam was still trying to get the attention of the older woman in scrubs. She was wearing headphones, bouncing her head along to the beat of whatever she was listening to.

“Flash drive?”

“The necklace,” you clarified and Steve pulled it out from his pocket. He handed it back to you and it felt odd sitting in your hand, like it hadn’t been something you had twisted and grasped at your whole life trying to draw the comfort your father claimed it possessed.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half. From the hallow chamber of the pendent, a USB drive so small it resembled a microchip fell into your hand. You sighed, a relief spreading through you as you handed the chip to Steve. You were right.

“Hydra has moles everywhere. It’s not just Ward. That drive will give you every name Hydra has on payroll, including in the one-four,” you went on to say. Steve didn’t seem surprised, he only nodding in acknowledgment. He must have suspected. He was too smart not too.

“It’s the reason Rumlow held me and Bucky for so long. They thought I knew where it was. Funny thing was, I didn’t even know it existed until he brought it up. Once I figured out it was in my necklace, I sent them on a goose chase to the bar.”

“Shit,” Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair as he shoved the chip into his pocket. “Can’t believe Sam thought to have our guys stationed there. Rumlow and Ward walked right into it. Some luck.”

“Don’t let Sam hear you say that. He’s taking full credit for bringing them in,” you teased, surprised by the light-hearted tone in your voice. Steve smirked, shaking his head as he settled back in his chair. You looked up to find Sam waving frantically at the poor nurse who had yet to notice him.

Some minutes later, as you watched Sam arguing with the nurse whose attention he finally caught, Steve let out a heavy sigh. “You sure you just want to hand this to me?”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to continue. He pulled the chip from his pocket, examining it closely.

He shrugged. “This is some serious leverage, Y/n. If you brought this to the feds, they might arrange a deal for your dad. You could ask for almost anything and they’d make it happen.”

“If my father wanted to use it to get himself out of his sentence, he would have,” you considered slowly. “He gave it to me before he was arrested. He knew they were coming. I think he--” you sighed, “He wants to serve his time. He knows the horrible shit he got caught up in. He never meant for it to go as far as it did, but it happened. He was still responsible for the distribution of drugs that fell into the hands of innocent kids. If he wanted the easy way out, he would have traded this to the cops then.”

Steve nodded. “You sure you don’t want a beach house somewhere? Maybe a new identity as a soccer mom?”

“I’m just fine where I’m at,” you laughed, leaning further back in your chair. You eyed the drive between Steve’s fingers as he fiddled with it before your gaze fell on the double doors leaning down to the operating rooms. A sigh, a little more somber, “I’ve got a bit of an invested interest now, I suppose.”

Steve grinned, though he tried to suppress it as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

part ten .

(a/n: I really almost ended this chapter right before steve and tony showed up to save ya’ll so I’m def not as cruel as I could have been lol)

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