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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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The Witness (10)

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: 9k

warnings: little bit of angst, little bit of fluff, little bit of violence

author’s note: I almost split this one into two chapters too, but ugh idk i didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the storyline and i have zero capacity to write short fics im sorry

series masterlist // previous chapter

An hour had passed without word from the surgeons beyond the double doors at the end of the hall. The nurse Sam had been bothering finally agreed to come look at you, though when she laid eyes on the light red stains upon your hands and the knife wound along your cheek, she perked up immediately, calling for another nurse as she passed by. She had chastised Sam for not telling her the state of your condition and he all but threw a silent tantrum behind her as she spoke to you, causing you to bit on your lip to suppress a laugh.

A nurse by the name of Sharon knelt in front of you, her blonde hair curled in gentle waves over her shoulder and a sweet look in her eye as she gestured for your hands. You set them in her palms, appreciating that she hadn’t bothered to ask you to follow her to an exam room. Steve sat next to you the whole time, his knee touching yours ever so slightly, but enough to keep you grounded. Sam slumped into a chair across from you as the older nurse returned to the desk, grumbling under her breath and sending a glaring look in Sam’s direction.

Sharon reached over for a cart on Steve’s left and he helped her swing it around. From the bottom drawer she pulled out a series of white clothes and a bottle filled with a clear liquid. She sprayed some onto the wipes and offered you an encouraging smile.

“This may be a little cold but it’ll get the dried blood off your skin,” she said softly, watching you for recognition before she began to run the cloth along your arms. You flinched at first, surprised by the coolness of the damp wipe, but you settled quickly. Sharon was as gentle as she could be, pressing a little harder when a patch of dried blood didn’t want to wipe away on its own. It stuck in the hair of your arms and cracks in your knuckles.

Once she was finished, she threw the red stained rags into the disposal bin on the side of the cart. Then she pulled out a new set of bandages and began wrapping the burns on your wrist without another word. There was some kind of cooling gel underneath that made the ache in your wrists a little less noticeable. She affixed the clips on the ends of the bandage, securing them with just enough pressure to protect it while giving it room to breathe.

Then, she took a seat next to you, dragging the cart closer as she pulled out a cotton swab and dipped it into the clear bottle she had used on your arms.

“This may sting,” she warned, holding it up against your face. You nodded and you felt Steve’s hand sitting over yours. You turn your palm and let him grab your hand. You squeezed it and Sharon pressed it to the cut. It left a burning sensation behind as she cleaned the wound and you clenched your jaw. She muttered an apology under her breath as she continued to work. It was over quicker than you anticipated. Steve released your hand.

“Good news is it won’t need stitches,” Sharon smiled at you, disposing of the swab. “I’m just going to put some surgical glue on and you’ll be all set.”

The glue didn’t sting the way the clear liquid had and it was over before you had time to wince at the tingling sensation of it. When she was finished, she set the materials back on the cart and set her eyes on Sam.

“You know you’re still in trouble for running out on us,” she smirked, folding her arms over her chest. Despite her light pink scrubs and the teddy bear sticker adhered to her ID badge, she had an intimidating aurora you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of, even if it was in jest. Sam sunk further into his chair, grimacing.

“Sorry about that,” Sam apologized weakly, eyeing Steve for support who only shrugged and looked away.

“I suppose if your stitches held together in your escape, you should be fine,” Sharon conceded, though there was a laugh on the end of her words. She set a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I know you’re waiting on news about the officers down in surgery. I’ll do my best to get an update for you.”

You exhaled, a moment of relief as you nodded. “Thank you.”

She smiled sweetly before she turned towards Sam with a teasing glare and jogged down the hall and through the double doors.

“You’ve gotta stop pissing off the nurses, Sam,” Steve laughed.

Sam shook his head, grumbling under his breath, “they started it.”

***

Sharon came back twenty minutes later. Nat was out of the OR and in the ICU until further notice, and no—you couldn’t see her just yet. Peter was still in surgery and they had successfully removed the metal chunk in his leg, though they ran into a few close calls. Plastics had taken the lead to start removing the burned skin while General closed up his leg. No end in sight for now.

Dr. Palmer was currently working on Bucky down in OR 7. Everything was going smoothly so far, but they were spending more time than expected on the stab wound in his stomach due to the serrated edges of the knife having ripped his skin and internal organs to shreds. It was apparently a miracle he survived long enough to get into the OR in the first place. You winced as Sharon told you so and she immediately bit down on her lip, having realized the way it came out. She went on to inform you that the cuts along Bucky’s left shoulder were proving difficult to stitch up. The scars it would leave behind would be unavoidable.

You nodded as she spoke, trying to breathe through the anxiety tingling in your skin.

An hour later, you met Steve’s wife, Peggy. She had come storming through the elevator doors, heels clicking on the tile flooring as she rushed to Steve. A million questions a minute rambling from behind bright red lipstick and a thick English accent, she started to direct her attention to the nurses when Steve couldn’t get the answers out fast enough. The older nurse who had become rivals with Sam was happy to update her.

After several minutes, Peggy fell down in the chair next to Sam with a huff. She blew a dark brunette curl from falling into her face. Then, her eyes fell on you and a smile so wide lit up her features. She quickly moved to the chair beside you, grinning ear to ear.

She told you how much she had been hearing about you from Steve – your name redacted until now to preserve your identity, of course – and from Bucky as well in their weekly Sunday night dinners. You smiled at that, thinking of Bucky spending his Sunday evenings with a married couple, sharing a meal, probably watching a movie and having a decent liquor for once. It was the kind of normalcy you didn’t have growing up.

“I’m so happy he found you,” Peggy concluded after a long ramble about Bucky’s apparently uneventful romantic history outside of the ‘ghastly’ woman named Dolores who had broken his heart a few years prior.

“Not sure he’d say that right about now,” you sighed, eyes glancing down towards the double doors. “Meeting me brought him a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe he needed a little more excitement in his life,” Peggy shrugged, her hand snaking into yours. Soft skin brushing gently over the dried cracks on the back of your hand. Red nail polish against paled skin.

“He lost a lot of blood. You didn’t see him, Peggy. He might not make it,” you whispered, finding yourself slumping down to lean against her shoulder. Peggy nodded, bringing your intertwined hand into her lap.

“He’s stronger than he looks... and he looks pretty strong,” she reminded you softly, an airy laugh in her voice. “He’s got something to fight for out here. If I know anything about that man, it’s that he’s about as stubborn as his best friend and he won’t let you go for anything.”

***

Sharon came by twice more with updates and you had lost track of time. The sun had risen enough to fill the waiting area with a glow of light through the windows. Sam was hiding from it beneath his jacket draped over his face as he curled up against the wall. These chairs didn’t allow for comfortable sleep, but it seemed like he was doing just fine. His light snoring was evident of that, at least.

Peggy and Steve were talking quietly with one another; everything from what was on the grocery list for the week to when they’ll find time to visit England to see her parents. Peggy led the conversations, asking the questions. She must have known that Steve needed a sense of normalcy. Even a police captain had best friends he was terrified of losing. It was nice to know he had someone looking out for him. This petite, brass, charming Englishwoman took care of him as if he weren’t twice anyone’s size and standing a foot above the rest.

The soft buzz of the tv filled the otherwise tensely silent room. A blonde news anchor dressed in a sharp red blazer sat behind a desk with several sheets of paper ahead of her, a pen twirling in her right hand. To her left was an image of the intersection where the crossfire took place, followed by Rumlow and Ward’s mugshots. Then, the screen changed to a video of Sam’s impala flipped on its roof, flames bursting from the engine. It appeared like it was shot on a cell phone from the vertical alignment and the blurred shakiness of whoever was recording it. The screen rushed between glimpses of Sam dragging Peter out from inside the burning car to Nat firing shots at the Hydra men. It switched to a scene of Bucky, Nat, and Sam slowly lowering themselves to the ground as you were held hostage, gun pressed to your temple.

The anchor came back on screen, a solemn look on her face as the small image on her left showed the front view of the hospital. You gritted your teeth and turned away.

After the news had transitioned into a cooking show and then into a morning talk show you’d never heard of, a few officers you hadn’t seen around the station had begun to straggle into the waiting room.

Detective Clint Barton, the one you had learned from Sam had arrested Rumlow and Ward, was currently sitting in the corner of the room with his feet kicked up, watching the mid-afternoon talk show on the small, grainy tv screen bolted to the wall. He was on his second bad of chips from the vending machine.

Dr. Bruce Banner, the one-four's forensic psychologist, was pacing back and forth by the windows. His messy curls bouncing with each step. Peggy had whispered to you that he and Natasha had a bit of a history, which surprised you for only a moment before you remembered that beneath her hardened exterior was one of the kindest, warmest people you knew.

Peter’s Aunt May was sitting by herself, hands in her face, for the last hour. She brushed off anyone that came near, claiming she just knew he’d get himself into this mess and she didn’t want comfort from those who got him there.

You’d learned Bucky’s sister, Rebecca, was out of state for college and his mother had broken down completely on the porch of her house when the officers arrived to inform her of his condition. She couldn’t leave her home in that state, so Steve had them track down a cousin of hers to stay with her until they had more news.

You’d met Thor and Loki, an odd pair who claimed to be brothers despite their polar opposite appearance and general demeanor in which they carried themselves. They called themselves private investigators but Sam grumbled something about them being ‘amateur Nancy Drews’ under his breath.

Even Tony Stark was standing over in the corner, talking quietly into his cellphone.

Then, a woman who demanded the attention of the entire room when she walked through the elevator doors took a seat next to you. She gave you a knowing smile before settling in. You’d later learn her name was Carol Danvers. She was a Sergeant at the one-four and despite her small frame, much like Natasha, she carried the energy of a someone twice her size. She nudged your shoulder lightly, grabbing your attention.

“Barton handed Rumlow and Ward over to me for processing,” she started, a smirk upon her lips. “Just thought you’d like to know that I roughed them up a bit in the interrogation room. Those Hydra scum will turn on one another real quick if they figure they can get one in for themselves. Idiots. Can’t believe they thought we’d actually cut them a deal.”

You laugh slightly behind pressed lips, lifting your head from Peggy’s shoulder. There was a strain in your muscle in the movement and you reached up to massage it.

“So, they’re secure where they are?” you asked apprehensively, stealing a glance back at Steve, who nodded slightly for you, indicating Carol was safe. “One of their moles can’t just let them out while we’re here?”

Carol smiled, shaking her head. “I locked up their cells myself and took all the spares with me. Plus, I’ve got a guy standing guard. Pietro Maximoff. He may be a rookie, but nothing gets past that kid. Too quick.”

You nodded, feeling slightly relieved and a bit satisfied to know Rumlow and Ward had been on the end of Carol’s bad side. She started to tell you stories from the one-four, ones where Bucky and Steve had gotten in serious heat with the previous captain, that made you smile despite the exhaustion. Your eyes glanced down at the double doors a little less often now that she was around.

***

A light tap on your shoulder woke you carefully. You lift your head to find you had fallen asleep on Peggy’s lap. Her hands were running softly through your hair and she offered you a smile as she gestured across the room. You lift your head from her thigh, combing self-consciously through your hair with your fingers as your eyes narrowed on a woman emerging through the double doors at the end of the hall.

Light teal scrubs and auburn hair drawn back away from her face in a ponytail. She discarded her plastic gloves at the edge of the door and you tried to ignore the blood that covered the blue material. She pushed through the doors, eyes scanning the room until she landed on Steve.

“Captain Rogers. You’re Detective Barnes’ emergency contact, is that right?” she asked, weaving through the dozens of officers and members of the one-four who had come to sit in wait for their colleagues.

Steve stood quickly, wiping his hands on his slacks. “Dr. Palmer?”

She nodded. “Detective Barnes lost quite a lot of blood and it was a challenge to piece together his internal wiring from the intrusive trauma, but we managed. He’ll be in the ICU for a while, but he’s tough. I expect he’ll make a full recovery.”

Peggy squeezed your hand and you nearly burst into tears.

“He’ll have significant scarring,” Dr. Palmer went on to add. “There wasn’t much we could do for that I’m afraid.”

“When can we see him?” Steve asked after considering what she said.

Dr. Palmer looked around the room. “While I’m sure he appreciates the turnout, I’m afraid we can only allow immediate family right now. He’s not stable enough for much else.”

Your heart dropped. Steve glanced down at you, unsure of what to say.

“We are his family,” Steve pressed, shaking his head, at a loss. Dr. Palmer pressed her lips together into a thin line. The regret was evident on her face.

“Ms. Barnes?”

Your eyes snapped up to find Sharon jogging in from behind the double doors. She smiled softly at you, sending you a wink before she came up to stand next to Dr. Palmer.

“I can take Ms. Barnes back to see her husband, now,” Sharon offered.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Detective Barnes was married. I must have missed that in the chart,” Dr. Palmer said, nodding her head. The knowing look in her eyes made you wonder if she knew exactly what Sharon was doing. She smiled at you then and you knew she did.

“He’s still under the anesthesia but he should wake soon,” Dr. Palmer said, directly to you now. “I’ll let Sharon walk you back. Once he’s stable enough, I’ll be sure to let your crew know. We’ll have to sort out a shift system. Don’t want to overwhelm the poor man.”

Steve smiled at that, sitting back into the chair as Peggy ushered you to your feet. She urged you on, waving at you to follow Sharon, but your legs felt like jelly. You clenched your jaw, staring down at the double doors.

Sharon offered you her arm for support and you took it graciously. She led you through the mass of officers and they backed slowly to the sides, allowing a passage through. Once the double doors closed behind you, you glanced over your shoulder to see Steve giving you a slight nod, half of an encouraging smile lifting his cheeks. You exhaled and continued on.

“Now, I want to prepare you,” Sharon began and you could already feel your stomach dropping. “The bruising is darker and more spread out than when he came in, so don’t be alarmed. He’ll have some bandaging on his right hand, his left shoulder, and around his waist. Someone will be by to change those once every few hours. We’ve already removed the respiratory tube from surgery, so don’t worry about having to see that, alright?”

You nodded, trying to take in her words the best you could. Then, she pulled you to a stop outside room 1189. Bucky’s name was scribbled in messy handwriting on the whiteboard underneath. Someone had thought to write “NYPD” just below his name. Somehow, it brought you comfort.

“I’ll work on getting someone in to see Detective Romanoff as well,” Sharon added. “She’ll be waking soon and our staff hates this ‘family only’ rule just as much as you all do.”

She smiled at you, nudging your shoulder. A semblance of a smile pulled at your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. She reached forward and turned the knob to Bucky’s room, stepping aside to give you the space you needed and disappearing back down the hall.

Slowly, you stepped inside the room. It was brighter than you imagined, light seeping in from the massive windows giving view to the towers across the street. White walls, beige tile floors, the faint smell of fresh sheets and sterilized surfaces. The soft beeping of a machine with a red line ticking up and down and it ran across the screen. Wires connecting down from the monitor to the bed where Bucky laid.

Yours hands reached up to cover your mouth as you finally took him in. Stumbling over to the chair by his bedside, you collapsed into it, shaking hands reaching to grab his. A thick plastic clasp sat over his pointer finger, wires connecting it to the monitor above you. You brought his hand to your lips and kissed his still broken knuckles.

Bandages covered his left shoulder, one wrapped around his stomach, another encasing his hand furthest from you. Broken pieces tied together with gauze and thread.

Your cheeks were wet with tears as you glanced over at his face. His lip was busted down the middle. Blue and purple covered more of his skin than not. Swollen eyelid and cheekbone, angry blue veins protruding to the surface. You tried to imagine he was only asleep, that is wasn’t just the anesthesia keeping him sedated, but you knew better than this. You’d seen the peaceful way he lied on his bed in the early hours of the morning, the almost boyish look in his face as he scrunched his nose in his sleep, the endearing mess of bedhead he’d wake up to. It wasn’t the same.

Exhausted, you leaned forward until your forehead rested against the bed. It was so soft, almost like a pillow and you could feel yourself giving into it. You wrapped your arms under your head, hunching over the bed as you dragged the chair closer with a hook of your foot. Gripped Bucky’s hand in yours, you let yourself find rest.

What felt like only seconds later, but had likely been almost an hour, you hummed contently as a tender pressure ran over your scalp, running through your hair, and lulling you back to sleep. You nuzzled in closer, shiftily slight to lean into the feeling. As raspy chuckle fell on your ears and you sprang up, eyes wide only, heart pounding, only to be met with the most beautiful shades of blue you’d ever seen.

You froze completely, just staring at him, petrified that if you even blinked, he’d disappear. Having noticed the fear etched in your features, he offered you a sad smile. You could practically feel him scanning you for further injury, eyes falling over the cut on your cheek for a moment too long. He licked at his lips when he met your eyes again.

“Hiya, doll,” he exhaled, his voice coming out in only a whisper but certainly the loveliest sound you’d ever heard. He started to cough abruptly and you lunged for the water at his bedside, pouring a glass for him and holding it up to his lips. He took a small sip, nodded that he was finished, and you pulled it away.

He sighed, glancing around the room. “I hope us being here means Hydra didn’t win this round.”

“Rumlow and Ward were arrested when they showed up at the bar,” you confirmed quickly and his eyes narrowed quizzically. You continued, “Steve has the chip from my necklace, too.”

Bucky shook his head, leaning back against the pillow. “It’s too easy.”

A humorless laugh escaped you. “That’s what I said. Sam thinks I should work on accepting good things when they come.”

“Yeah, well, Sam’s too optimistic for his own good,” Bucky grumbled, though he raised a genuine smile for you despite the crack in his lips. It made your heart flutter. He sighed, trying to adjust himself on the bed but winced at the effort. You rushed forward to help him, though you found your hands hovering over him, almost afraid to touch him. If he noticed your hesitancy, he didn’t say anything.

Once he settled, he let out a heavy exhale. His eyes fell on you as you pulled his hand back to your lap, drawing patterns in his palm. Several moments of comfortable silence passed, save for your soft humming. He watched you carefully, almost like he was studying you, trying to memorize you, before he spoke again.

“Are you okay, doll?” Bucky asked cautiously and you could practically hear the guilt beginning to build in his voice.

“We’re here and they’re not,” you shrugged, pulling to press a kiss to the back of his hand. You set your intertwined hands into your lap and slowly met his eye. “That’s all that matters right now.”

He didn’t seem convinced, his gaze caught on the scar running over your cheekbone. “Y/n, I’m so--”

“Don’t do this again, please,” you sighed. When his eyes fell away from you, you reached forward to brush his hair from his eyes, tracing your fingers carefully along the scruff of his beard. He leaned into it. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’ll deal with the trauma later, alright?”

Bucky chuckled softly at that though when a silence took over again, it took a minute before he looked up at you nervously. “So, there’s a later, huh? Now that this is over?”

The way he asked you, trying to cover his fretfulness through the banter in his voice, made your heart ache. He wasn’t asking to tease you. He was sincere in his uncertainty and that, above all else, hurt more than anything.

“Did you think I’d leave once Hydra was no longer a threat to my life?” you asked, watching the way his eyes flickered down to your intertwined hands, then to the door.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Bucky shrugged shyly. “Adrenaline can be a hell of a drug. Not to mention, you’re pretty hard to read, sweetheart.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you replied quickly, kissing his hand. You brushed his knuckles over your cheek and his opened his palm to rest against the side of your face. You held it there, leaning into him as his thumb traced delicately under the angry red scar.

“I’m not going anywhere, Bucky,” you reminded him, more serious this time as you said it. You needed him to know, to understand that there wasn’t a single thing on this Earth that could take you from him now. Bucky nodded, a smile curving at the ends of his lips as he sighed, seemingly content to just watch you.

You kissed the inside of his palm, drawing his hand from your face and pulling it to sit in your lap again. You flashed him a smirk and he raised an eyebrow playfully.

“I suppose you should get used to your shitty bourbon, Barnes.”

He let out a laugh-- a genuine, boisterous laugh-- and the sound alone made your heart swell. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to that. You hoped you never did.

***

With the help of Sharon, Bucky’s room had become a revolving door of visitors. You kept his hand woven in your own as you sat next to his bed side. He had requested to see Clint and Carol first, after you informed him that they were the last ones to have contact with Rumlow and Ward since the arrest. He grilled them for almost an hour before he finally took a breath and relaxed, accepting that maybe they’d finally won a round against Hydra for once.

Clint, you found, was somehow more of a sarcastic shit than Sam was, and you grew a liking to him quickly. Carol took Bucky’s questions in stride, replying in quick, short responses, just enough to get to the point. She barely even batted an eye.

Then came a steady stream of the officers you’d hadn’t met before. Men and women in blue uniform, some from the one-four, others from different precincts over the city. It seemed the NYPD showed up for one of its own regardless of district. They only stayed to wish him well or bring by flowers to sit on the windowsill. Tight lipped smiles and nervous glances in your direction and then they were out the door.

Almost two hours later when Steve and Peggy finally walked through the door, hand in hand, you slumped back against the side of Bucky’s bed in relief. Peggy scurried over quickly to give a light hug to Bucky and an aired kiss to his cheek before she pulled up a chair next to you. Steve hung behind in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he looked Bucky over. He shook his head, pursing his lips into a frown.

“You gotta learn to stay out of trouble, punk,” Steve chuckled under his breath.

“Only if you do, jerk.” Bucky smirked, eyes on his oldest friend until he walked the room to reach out to shake his hand. Steve was cautious as he gripped Bucky’s hand and Bucky must have noticed it because with one hard yank, he pulled Steve down into a hug. A wince passed over his face as he patted Steve’s back, likely from the heavy weight of the captain, but he didn’t complain. Steve laughed, pulling himself up and moving to lean against the wall.

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Steve teased, the relief on his face as evident as you felt.

“Is someone making fun of Barnes? I want in,” Sam’s voice called from a few paces beyond the door, but he wasn’t the next face you saw come through the frame.

“You’re all insufferable. Just so you know,” Nat rolled her eyes, leaning on the armrest of the wheelchair Sam was pushing. Her leg was propped up, held at a ninety-degree angle, with heavy bandages and splints holding it in place. Other than that, you never would have known she had just come out of surgery; gorgeous without even an ounce of makeup and soft fiery hair that never seemed out of place.

She winked at you as Sam locked the wheels on her chair next to Peggy. You reached over her and gripped her hand. You wanted to tell her you were sorry she ended up in the crosshairs of a Hydra stand off for you and that you were thankful she was alive. You wanted her to know that even when this was over, you still wanted to be friends. You hoped she felt the same way. Natasha had the uncanny ability to read minds with a single look. She nodded, a knowing smile on her lips, understanding perfectly.

“Gang’s all here,” Bucky chuckled to himself, squeezing your hand. A silence fell over the room and you lowered your head. You could feel Bucky eyeing the room and no one dared to speak. “What?”

“Parker’s still in surgery,” Sam finally said. Bucky’s lips parted in shock. “He got the worst of the explosion. Burned pretty bad and his leg got impaled with a piece of the car door. He’s got a long road ahead of him, but I hear the doc’s optimistic about his recovery.”

Bucky nodded and you could feel his heartrate picking up beneath his pulse point. “He’s just a kid. We never should have let him get involved with this.”

“Parker is a fully trained officer,” Steve said, serious enough tone in his voice to remind you that he was still the captain of this precinct. “He looks young and he’s got the energy of someone half his age, but he’s qualified and capable of doing his job; a job he volunteered for, by the way. You didn’t force him into this. He knew exactly what he was signing up for.”

Steve reached out to put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder but withdrew quickly when his fingers brushed over the series of bandages. Steve swallowed, folding his arms over his chest. Bucky let out a heavy sigh, pressing his lips to a thin line. He stole a glance at you, the tension falling from his face. He pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it.

***

As the hours passed by and the sun began to fall over the city line, the small, white hospital room echoed the sounds of laughter down the hallways and hushed snickering under breaths when the older nurse from the front desk hushed the room. No one showed any signs of leaving, despite the visiting hours closing in the next hour.

Sam had taken a seat at the end of Bucky’s bed, rolling his eyes when Bucky tried to swat him away and saying something like ‘I got shot for you, move the hell over’. Nat was sitting comfortably in her wheelchair, resting one foot on the edge of the bed as she listened intently to Sam and Bucky’s constant bickering, a sly comment said under her breath every once in a while that always got you laughing before anyone knew what was happening. Steve had taken a seat on the windowsill, his feet still touching the ground and you caught him watching Peggy with the kind of gentle bewonder you often saw in Bucky’s eyes.

“Sam, that’s the third time I’ve heard your stomach growl,” Nat observed in a flat toned comment, raising in eyebrow when his hand began to pat at his stomach.

“Damn, I don’t even remember the last time I ate,” Sam said and the grumble of his stomach rang out again.

“I’ll go get some stuff from the vending machine,” you offered, rising quickly from your chair. Bucky squeezed your hand as you tried to pull away. You glanced back at him and the apprehension on his features was enough to tug at your heart.

“Let Sam go,” Bucky urged and Sam narrowed his eyes as if staring darts.

“Sam’s got a stab wound in his forearm and a bullet in his shoulder,” you teased light-heatedly.

“Ok, what about Steve?”

“Sure, I can go,” Steve agreed, jumping off from the window ledge.

“Guys, stop,” you laughed. “I can handle it myself. Just relax. I’ll be back in five.”

You sent Steve a playful glare when he didn’t back down and he eventually sat back on the ledge. Bucky sighed and you could see the concern behind his eyes. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling him instantly relax against you as your hand ran gently over the back of the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

“Five minutes,” you reminded him again. He nodded slowly, though it looked like the very idea of being away from you for even a moment was agonizing.

You squeezed your way past Peggy’s chair and around Nat’s leg propped up the bed. As you turned down the hall, you could still hear Sam’s boisterous laughter until you passed through the double doors.

The older nurse was standing at the front desk, the corded phone sitting between her ear and shoulder as she scribbled on a notebook, nodding her head and rolling her eyes with each ‘uh-huh.’

As you approached the vending machine in the far corner of the room, she slammed the phone on the receiver and quickly stormed to the back room. You chuckled under your breath, shaking you head. You pulled a few tens from your pocket and eyed up your choices for dinner. Doritos, cheese crackers, potato chips, trail mix, chocolate bars, Cheetos. Sounded good enough to you.

“Not the most nutritious of meals, don’t you think?” a man’s voice said from behind, startling you enough to whip around and clutch at your heart, hand searching instinctively for the necklace you no longer wore. When you saw a black suit-jacket affixed with gold buttons and a shiny NYPD badge with a series of colorful badges pinned on his left breast pocket, you began to relax.

“You scared me,” you exhaled, laughing to yourself.

“My apologies ma’am,” he said, offering you a pleasant smile as he removed his rounded glassed, wiping them on the edge of his jacket before he set them against the bridge of his nose. His sandy blonde hair swept over to the left in short wisps. Over his shoulder an officer you didn’t recognized emerged from the elevators.

“Commissioner Pierce,” the officer greeted, removing his cap in a nod before moving to stand by the double doors. Something about the way he stood guard, his back to the doors, facing you, made you feel uneasy. If he was guarding the commissioner, shouldn’t he be facing potential entry points?

The man in the suit jacket, Commissioner Pierce, pressed out a smile at you as you turned back to the vending machine. Something was wrong. You could feel it in your bones. He cleared his throat behind you and you clenched your jaw, turning to face him again.

“Actually, my dear,” he began and the tone in his voice made you shiver, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking a few moments to speak with me about the last twenty-four hours. I’ve been made aware that you haven’t given a statement yet and I’d like to make sure we have it on the books before your memory becomes… unreliable.”

“That’s a little below a commissioner's pay grade, isn’t it?” you asked slowly, careful to keep your voice light as not to cause suspicion. You eyed the officer standing at the double doors. His hand held steady on the firearm attached to his hip.

Pierce chuckled to himself, head bowing for a moment before he met your eye again. “I take initiative on the ground every once in a while. Keeps me humble. Especially in cases such as yours. With one of our own feeding information to Hydra, we must stay vigilant. Don’t you agree?”

“Of course,” you forced out a smile, clenching you jaw to hide the influx in your heart rate. You turned back to the machine, watching Pierce’s reflection in the glass. “I’ll be sure to let one of the officers know as soon as I bring back some food. They’re expecting me back any minute.”

As you slid the first bill into the machine, you felt a sharp, solid pressure jab into your lower back. Eyes closed as you exhaled; some kind of twisted acceptance washing over you. Pierce leaned in close enough to feel his breath on your ear.

“I tried to make this easy for you, Y/n,” he tsked, pushing the barrel of the gun hard enough into your side to elicit a wince. You took a deep breath, ready to scream and damn the consequences when Pierce clamped a hand over your mouth. “If you make a single sound, I’ll have of the nurses on my payroll shoot up your precious detective with Fentanyl.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat. From behind the desk, a nurse you didn’t recognize was pulling a syringe from the drawer. She eyed you with a wicked kind of smirk before she walked over to the double doors, standing next to the officer as if on guard, awaiting orders. Pierce slowly lowered his hand.

“Good girl,” he praised against your ear and you recoiled away from his touch. He chuckled under his breath at your reaction, clearly amused. He then nodded for the officer at the door to follow as he put a hand on your shoulder, gripping hard enough to draw bruising. He led you towards the elevator doors where the officer had already tapped the now illuminated arrow pointing to the floor.

You glanced down the window through the double doors after the nurse retreated back to her station, twirling the syringe in her hand. The hall beyond the doors was entirely empty. Steve was the only armed officer without a major injury and there was no way you’d be able to call for him before Pierce could get a fatal bullet in you and that nurse could dose Bucky amongst the chaos.

This was it.

You should have known better than to trust things would end so easily for you. Your life had never bene easy so why would this? The moment it crossed your mind you might actually have a happy ending to this nightmare of a chapter in your life, you should have known it was too good to be true. You’d gained too many friends, learned to find a family again amongst the late nights at the bar and 24/7 guard duty. And Bucky ---

Bucky was too kind, too loving and sweet and reassuring. He treated you with a gentle kind of sincerity you hadn’t known in years and a constant unbreakable need to keep you safe from harm. You’d let yourself grow to love him in a way you’d never loved another person. In such a short period of time, you’d happily given a piece of your heart away with the assured trust that he’d handle it with care.

You realized suddenly you already said your last goodbye to Bucky, to the makeshift family at the one-four who adopted you so willingly. You’d already poured his last drink, had your last walk through the city in the early hours of the morning, shrugged off his last flirty comment that got your heart racing, and seen his last smile. You’d already kissed him for the last time, already squeezed his hand for the last time, touched him for the last time, told him you --

Well, you’d only told him you loved him once, hadn’t you? It felt like centuries ago. Did he still know? Would he still know once this was over?

You weren’t sure.

You supposed you’d never find out.

The elevator dinged and the metal doors parted. Pierce shoved you inside with the brunt of the gun and you stumbled into the small space. He pressed the button for the ground floor as the officer stood on your other side, hand still on his weapon as if he expected to use it.

A lifetime seemed to pass by as the red LED numbers at the top of the wall counted down. Your focus blurred on the silver doors, studying the ticks and scratches amongst the metal as you tried to avoid your own reflection.

When the doors slid open, Pierce shoved you forward into what looked like the parking garage under the hospital.

“Get her in the car,” Pierce ordered the officer, sliding his gun back into the waist of his suit pants. The officer grabbed a tight hold of your arm, enough to hurt as he yanked you towards him.

There was no use fighting him. You weren’t physically strong enough to overpower him, especially not with a gun in his hand. Pierce gestured toward a black car sitting just a few spaces away. You nearly tripped over a stray rock in the pavement and the officer cursed at you under harsh breaths, raising his hand as if to strike you when --

“Let her go!”

The officer hulled you to his chest, your back slamming roughly against him as the gun pressed to your side. God, this was familiar, wasn’t it?

Steve stood by the exit to the stairs, panting heavily as he aimed his weapon at Pierce. Pierce slowly turned around, a laugh on his tongue, almost as if he was expecting this.

“I know who you really work for, Pierce!” Steve shouted his voice echoing through the garage. “I know where your allegiance lies. I’ve seen the file. It’s over! Turn yourself in while you can!”

“Frankly, Rogers, I’m a little surprised it took you this long,” Pierce replied smugly, not even bothering to deny it. Steve’s eye glanced at you, flickering over for only a moment, just long enough to catch your nod, signaling that you were okay, before turned his attention back to Pierce.

“Let Y/n go and maybe we can arrange a deal,” Steve bargained. An angry tension carried in his tone and you wondered if he was sincere in his words. The sharp narrowing of his eyes suggested otherwise.

“I don’t want your deal, Rogers,” Pierce spat, swatting his hand in the air at Steve. “You know nothing of Hydra if you think we care for anything but the bigger picture. I am willing to sacrifice my life for the cause. Are you?” He glanced over towards you, a smirk on his face as he turned back to Steve. “Is she?”

“Ward and Rumlow turned on each other pretty easy.”

“They were henchmen at best,” Pierce dismissed, rolling his eyes. He was pacing freely, walking casually as if he wasn’t in the middle of a hostage situation.

“You have nothing!” Steve shouted. “The Hydra informant list was sent to the station hours ago. It’s over, Pierce. You have no reason to take her.”

“There’s still revenge, isn’t there?” Pierce shrugged, whipping out his gun in one smooth movement and aiming it in your direction. There wasn’t enough time to close your eyes before a loud ringing echoed through the garage, but it wasn’t any of the weapons’ discharge.

You looked towards the source of the noise to find the stairwell door slammed against the adjacent wall and a fuming Bucky Barnes racing through the frame, clad only in the light grey sweatpants Peggy had brought for him, bare feet, and bandages covering most of his torso. Sam rushed in behind him.

Bucky was panting heavily as he exchanged a look with Steve who only shot him a warning glare in return. He faltered slightly in his stance and Sam quickly ushered himself under Bucky’s good arm, keeping him steady.

“Great,” Pierce mumbled. “Now that everyone’s here…”

Pierce continued talking but you could hear much of it. It was clear none of the three men standing just fifty feet away from you were either as they talked amongst themselves quickly, eyeing one another up between glances back to Pierce. Pierce was pacing, monologuing about the ‘glory of Hydra’ when you notice Bucky gesturing for Steve’s gun. Steve shook his head, retuning his gaze to Pierce, the barrel of his gun swaying back and forth as the man paced.

Bucky gritted his teeth, his eyes falling on you. There was a determination behind them you recognized from the intersection the last time a Hydra agent held a gun to you, though you could tell with a single glance that he wasn’t getting on his knees. Not again.

He held your eye, mouthing something to you that looked a little like ‘it’s gonna be okay.’ You scanned over at Pierce who was still managing to talk without any prompting. The officer holding you seemed to be getting a little bored with his commissioner’s speech because his grip slowly started to loosen.

Then, all at once, Bucky snaked his good hand around Sam’s waist and pulled the gun from the holster, barrel aimed directly at you. Pierce froze, shouting something you couldn’t quite understand as a deafening shot rang out in your ears. You yelped and a wet substance splattered over the side of your face, soaking into your hair. The officer fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

Another shot echoed through the garage and Pierce let out a shriek, his gun falling from his hand as he gripped at the now bloody surface of his palm. You looked over to Steve, who was holstering his weapon, pleased with his aim.

Bucky was sprinting towards you; Sam close behind. Their footsteps were muffled by the deafening ringing in your ears. You glanced down at the officer, his eyes wide, unstaring, as a bullet sat wedged between his eyes. Without thinking much of it, you bent down, and picked up the handgun that he had held against you. It was warm to the touch.

“Y/n,” Bucky panted, reaching quickly to gather you in his arms when you abruptly snapped your attention to Pierce, aiming the gun at his chest. Pierce held his hands up in surrender, though he kept them clasped together, blood dripping down his forearms from the bullet that had ripped through his palm.

“Get on your knees,” you growled, a snarl twitching at your upper lip. Pierce’s eyes fell on Bucky, then Steve as he ran up to stand next to you, almost as if he was begging them for interference. It riled up a kind of anger in you too difficult to control.

“Don’t look at them! Look at me!”

Pierce’s gaze snapped back to you in an instant.

“Y/n,” Bucky’s voice called softly behind you. “Doll, please, give me the gun. You don’t wanna do this.”

“No. I do,” you nodded your head frantically, tears welling in your eyes. “He’s behind all of this! He gave the order for Charlie’s death. He sicked Rumlow on us. He’s the reason Sam and Nat were shot and you were tortured for information I didn’t even know existed! Peter’s fighting for his life because of this asshole! He deserves to die!”

Pierce winced as you stepped closer. The sharp click of the safety as it unlocked was thunderous.

“I know,” Bucky admitted, a hesitancy behind his voice. “You’re right, but please, not by your hand. It’s not something you come back from. Doll, I’m begging you. Don’t let him take anything else from you.”

You clenched at your jaw, willing yourself to not cry as you stared down this man. He wasn’t as powerful as he made himself to be when he was staring down the end of a gun. He was a weak, pathetic, feeble man and he was at your mercy alone. You met his eye, providing nothing for him but the cool numbness he had forced onto you and then, you fired.

Two shots.

One at each knee cap.

Pierce cried out, dropping to the ground and rolling onto his side. The garage echoed with his pained shouts, but you couldn’t hear much of it beyond the ringing in your ears from the discharge of the gun. You stepped backwards, bumping into Bucky’s chest.

His hands brushed over your arms, holding you steady. When you didn’t flinch at the touch, he skimmed his hand down to yours and gingerly pulled the gun from your hand, passing it off to Sam. You let it go willingly. Steve had meanwhile rushed forward and yanked Pierce’s hands behind his back, cuffing him, before he pulled out his phone to call for reinforcements.

You could vaguely make out Bucky calling your name softly but you couldn’t seem to bring your focus away from Pierce. This man, this insignificant man, who hadn’t even existed in your life less than twenty minutes ago had spent the last few months upending your entire world. From behind the shadows, he stood, watching, waiting, for the prime opportunity.

Dark red pooled around the concrete around him and he was complaining to Steve that he needed a doctor. Steve grunted, rolling his eyes, and told him something you can only assume was ‘you’ll live.’

“Sweetheart,” Bucky’s voiced ached, his hand tracing over the line of your jaw. “Please, I need you to look at me.”

You blinked a few times in a row. When did he move in front of you? He was watching you with those careful blue eyes of his, drawing and scanning over every ounce of your face in hopes to find some sort of sign that you were in there somewhere. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. You looked down, focus caught on the red stain growing upon the thick bandage wrapped at his waist.

“You tore your stitches,” you commented meekly, eyes finally reaching up to his. A sigh of relief pushed up the corners of Bucky’s lips and he nodded, glancing at the stain himself.

“Wasn’t gonna let some Hydra asshole take my girl again,” Bucky shrugged, his thumb brushing under the scar on your cheek. You leaned subconsciously into the touch and he smiled sweetly at you. “The second Steve took off runnin’, you should have seen the trail of nurses behind me after I ripped out my heart monitor and the IV drip. It’s a good thing my legs still work, huh?”

“’Good thing’, my ass,” Sam grumbled behind him, shaking his head as he holstered the weapon Bucky had confiscated in the chaos.

You chuckled under your breath as Bucky shot Sam a glare over his shoulder. You tiled your face slightly, just enough to kiss the inside of his palm. He turned back to you upon the feeling.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” you asked carefully, glancing over at Pierce for a moment before returning to Bucky. He nodded, pulling you into his arms. The gentle touch of his lips pressed against your forehead as you wrapped your arms tight around his waist. He held onto you like you were his only lifeline.

“Yeah, doll,” he sighed, his breath warm over the crown of your head. “It’s over.”

He didn’t let go of you even as the siren’s wailed throughout the garage and the blue and red lighting illuminated the dingy underground lot. You stole a glance over at Pierce, ear pressed to Bucky’s chest and listening intently to the sound of his heart beat to keep you grounded, as Steve ushered him into the back of the police car. The door slammed behind him and a wave of relief washed over you.

Once Steve jumped in the driver’s seat to escort Pierce and the line of four other cars back to the station, the garage had fallen silent.

“So, now that I have a moment with you alone,” Bucky smirked, pulling back a moment to get a better look at you.

“Oh God, please spare me,” Sam grunted from a few paces behind Bucky’s shoulder and your cheeks flushed red. He was leaning against a car that clearly didn’t belong to him, good arm folded over his chest as he shook his head. “You just tore open that nasty stab wound the good doc spent hours piecing back together. If you drop dead because you bled out in some disgusting parking lot for a kiss, I will lose my damn mind. Need I remind you, I got shot for your sorry ass.”

Bucky was staring at you the whole time Sam spoke, biting on his lip to keep himself from laughing, though the subtle shake in his shoulders was enough to alert Sam.

“Fine!” Sam snorted, “You got five minutes before I sent the brigade after you. It better be one hell of a kiss, Barnes!”

Sam’s heavy footsteps echoed in the garage as he made his way to the elevator. You were watching him wait rather impatiently for the doors to open when you felt Bucky’s fingers under your jaw drawing your attention back to him. He set his both his hands against your cheeks and you could feel the soft bandage wrapped around his palm where the knife had pierced through. He exhaled, big blue eyes staring down at you as his lips curved ever so slightly.

“It will be.”

epilogue

tags 🐣: @sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @lumar014 / @alohafromhell1 / @bucksandroses / @teardropcup / @beautiful-aravis / @me-chi / @somewereinthegalaxi / @marvelfansworld / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @yourwonderbelle / @fairislesheets / @brokeinflight / @verygraphicink / @lollipopdomination / @emotionallysalty / @forsaken-letters / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @ashlieadelia / @kasimagines / @ladymelissastark/ @panic-naran / @pinkisokay / @jsmith509 / @hennessy0274-blog / @littlemsrantsalot / @bucky-rrogers / @the-wayward-robot

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