Chapter Text
For being Hydra’s Fist, he looked so.. human.
The man across from you sat on the operating table was covered in cuts and bruises, but held the same emotionless expression that you maintained. Three guards were stationed in the small medical room you all were in, two at the door where you stood and one by his side. The one nearest behind you nudged you forward.
“Отправляйся, Маленький Доктор, с этого момента ты будешь отвечать за его благополучие. (Go, Little Doctor, from now on you will be responsible for his well-being.)”
Giving a terse nod, you walked up to him and at the close proximity you were able to better see the color of his eyes. A smoky blue reminiscent of a stormy ocean.
As you positioned your hands lightly over his wounds, a yellow glow emanated as his injuries began to disappear and you felt him relax ever so slightly. Your curse, which had once been a blessing, now kept you captive in Hydra.
Though as you met his eyes and shared a look of understanding and gratitude, for the first time in a while, you found the smallest purchase of relief.
.
The first time he ever spoke to you was after a rough mission. It was one of those few times you truly realized that just like any human, he could actually die. The healing had taken a lot out of you, and though you felt like fainting, you managed to pick up the bloodied rags and toss them into a bin.
When you were finally able to wash the blood stains off your arms, you felt like you were able to breathe again. But it wasn’t your own exhale you heard, rather, the quiet rasp that came from the table.
Your head whipped around to see his eyelids slowly open, and his head loll to the side to meet your eyes with his own grey-blue ones.
“Маленький Доктор. (Little Doctor.)” His voice was soft from lack of use, but having never heard it before, you couldn’t have imagined it sounding any other way.
“Солдат. . . Ты жив. (Soldat. . . You’re alive.)” His eyes darkened a bit from disappointment, you shared a sympathetic look and went to get him some water. It brought you some guilt, but you were glad he hadn't died to leave you alone again.
. .
The routine was mostly simple. Other than a few near-death scares, the Winter Soldier would come back from a mission, report to you to be fixed up, and be taken away to who knows where.
It came to the point that they rarely left guards in the room with you two anymore. Mostly because it was cramped inside, and the hall outside was filled with them so you wouldn’t be able to escape anyways.
When he came into your room, you always prepared your tools as he sat onto the table and asked,
“Отчет о состоянии. (Status report.)” And he’d always answered with that quieter voice you’d slowly gotten accustomed to. Otherwise, neither of you spoke because of the camera positioned in the room to ensure that you didn’t try to escape. But you both learned how to work with each other as the routine became habit, as he’d automatically shift to allow you to reach any injuries he had acquired during missions.
He was the only person you felt you could breathe comfortably around, but you knew nothing about him other than rumors that he used to be an American soldier in the war. A lifetime ago, you think that you had once lived there too. Maybe you had gotten involved in the war yourself, but Hydra made everything blurry. The cryogenics hadn’t helped either, and you were left with nothing of a past like he was.
Mindlessly, you tapped your fingers against the sink as the bucket filled up with water to clean off the blood. The reciprocal tapping on the table behind you made you pause. You think to decode the Morse, in English, you faintly remember.
“Do you remember anything?”
“No.” was his answer, “Do you?” Turning off the faucet, you brought the bucket with a rag over to him. As you soaked it, you lightly tapped on the table back.
“No.”
Communicating like this was dangerous, but the camera couldn’t pick up those slight movements, and the tapping was too quiet to be heard outside the room. Logically, you knew it should be safe, but your real reason was that you wanted to talk to your quiet patient, to risk knowing more about him. And luckily, he shared the feeling.
. . .
Time passed. It was hard to tell with your office being underground and all. But you knew things were changing, the shifts in the air, the whispers among the agents, and soon enough the change in location.
The sun was much brighter than you remembered. Almost unbearable, but you missed it. It was the few familiar things from a life you had hardly gotten the chance to have.
His slow exhale brought you out of your thoughts. He was always at his calmest when coming out of cryogenics. The entire "defrosting" process involved ensuring his vitals were healthy and prepared for the next mission. And from the whispers you managed to catch, this one seemed like it was going to be a longer one.
"Where are we?"
“Someplace in America.” The small glimpses of the city provided sparks of familiarity, but never enough to jumpstart your memory of ever living in the country. Your hands lingered a second more than they should have, he met your eyes. You exhaled softly.
“Good luck.” his head lowered slightly in assent, though you both knew what you really meant was, Come back alive.
. . . .
And he did, though what frightened you the most was that…
He had failed the mission.
They had sent you on the helicopter to pick him up, saying it was to immediately patch up any wounds he must’ve sustained during the mission.
You knew the real reason was for blackmail. They had found out. At least, to some extent.
He gazed listlessly into the distance as you tended to his wounds, and as you stared into those eyes of his, you knew that he wasn’t the same soldat you had met all those years ago.
“Do you remember?” He finally looked at you.
“Yes.” You saw the fear he showed so plainly, along with uncertainty, and most importantly, life.
A life you had to save, for what other purpose would there be to a healer?
The grip you had on the needle in your hand shifted, it was a sedative for the Soldat if he had not come along willingly, but now it became a chance to set him free.
You took one last glance into his smokey blue eyes, the familiarity granting you the courage you needed, as you gave him the smallest smile.
“Hang on.”
The chopping blades of the helicopter made it difficult for the pilot to hear you make your way over. By the time they’d caught you in their peripherals, you had long stabbed his neck and injected the sedative.
As they slumped over, you scrambled to grab the wheel, but the piercing red blink followed by that dreadful beeping tone caught your immediate attention.
Someone grabbed your arm to pull you out the side, but the impact of the helicopter exploding ripped you from his grip and sent you hurtling to the ground below.
What you opened your eyes to was an upside down world, the blast had left a shrill ringing in your ears. A sharp pain soon ran up your body, as you registered warm droplets of red hitting your face.
It was your leg. Skewered through by a tree branch, and was the only thing that kept you hanging in the air. You tried to grab the closest branch to you, but the attempt left your body swinging and caused another surge of pain to run up your leg. It drained you of the last bits of strength you had left, and resigned you to be some sick ornament hanging in the middle of the woods.
A sob caught in your throat, as you desperately pushed it down to prevent your body from moving and paining you any further.
Trying to escape had given you hope, despite your best efforts to avoid it. You could never escape Hydra, but some part of you desperately hoped for a future. With him.
Through your tears you saw his dark and blurred silhouette come towards you. When his hands attempted to free you from your position, your scream of pain forced him to halt.
"Leave me." Your voice, hoarse and trembled as if it would make any more movement and cause you more pain. He adamantly shook his head, trying to assess the situation and come up with another solution.
"I can't." The branch, though jutting out of your thigh, was too risky to break. Not that doing so would help you much either, your leg was too far gone by now. He was left at odds of not knowing what to do.
"There's no time-"
"Маленький Доктор... (Little Doctor...)" His voice sounded terrified and almost as desperate as you were. You tried to blink away your tears and look at him, but hanging upside down this far had your vision darkening in the corners.
"Don't make me leave you." His hands hovered close, but never nearer to prevent you from any more pain. They were shaking.
You restrained another sob.
"Cut it off then." You were able to see the whites of his eyes as they widened, and despite your disorientation you did your best to give him a firm look. And he nodded.
Seconds seemed like hours as he freed you, and through the bleary pain you were sure your screams reached up to the heavens. He caught you securely in his arms when the limb finally was cut free, and worked quickly to create a tourniquet to staunch the blood staining the black of his outfit.
You must’ve passed out for a moment as the cool of his metal hand touched your cheek and brought you back. The wind whipped about your body, and you looked up to see the Soldat who was holding you in his arms.
“Stay with me, we’re almost there.” His voice, still strained with fear, managed to come across to you as encouraging. You leaned more into the coolness, and as your gazes met he felt the growing desire to save you deepen further.
. . . . .
It was a miracle he found the little wooden shack in the middle of the woods. It was horribly broken down and aged, but thankfully, abandoned. He figured it would provide enough of a shelter for now, and a place for you to rest.
Speaking of which, you should have been dead by now. You had lost more than the amount of blood some of his victims in the past had, yet you still hung on, if but by a thread. He figured the faint yellow glow that flickered about your amputated thigh had something to do with it. Though he knew how much using your power exhausted you, he wouldn’t complain if it were the reason you remained breathing in his arms now.
When he saw your eyes flutter to a close in that moment he truly thought he’d lost you. In all his years of Hydra, even now as he was running for his life, he had never felt so utterly terrified as if he were just a child again. Not that he’d remember then anyways, but you made him feel like he could.
You were the respite of air in the otherwise suffocating prison he was held in, if he lost you now, he wouldn’t have anything left. He would only be a broken man, barely escaping from his identity as the Winter Soldier, while lost from a past he couldn’t understand nor was given any time to.
Your ragged breathing snapped back his attention. You lay on a poor excuse of a cot made from whatever scraps of cloth he managed to scramble from the ruins of the cabin, but he hoped it was enough to offer you some semblance of rest. He reached down to gently fix your hair out of your face, and you leaned into his hand again which caused his heart to beat faster in a way he didn’t understand either.
“Soldat..” He shook his head and confused you, but he knew he didn’t want to be called that anymore.
With hesitation, he managed to get out, “It was Bucky.” The name was for the most part foreign to him, but it felt right in some odd manner.
And when you said it again yourself with the soft smile that graced your lips, he knew it to be true.
“We did it right? This is real, we’re..” You trailed off in a way that concerned him further, but your eyes remained steadfast onto his. “Free.”
As he sighed, a touch of tension rolled off his shoulders, mainly because your presence allowed him to.
“Who knows how long we’ll have to run. And what we’ve lost in the process..” He couldn’t keep his eyes from glancing at where your right leg should have been. They darted back to yours when he felt your hand rest on top of his.
“I don’t care if it’s for the rest of our lives. We made it.” Your thumb ran over his knuckles, as your smile deepened. “I think that is all that I could have ever wanted.”
He couldn’t help but stare, even as damaged and hurt as you were, the look on your face as you laid beside him was nothing short of peace and genuine joy.
“Bucky.” Even now he knew he would never be able to get over the way you said his name. “Let’s live now, okay?”
He gave your hand the tenderest squeeze, and gifted you his first of what you hoped would be many future smiles.
“Together. I could only live if you’re there with me.”