Chapter Text
It had just been a normal day for Steve Rogers. He had just gotten done at the gym and was walking the short, 5 minute route to his apartment.
Maybe I’ll go see Bucky. Haven’t done that in a while.
So, he changed his course. It was a nice day out: the wind was blowing softly and the birdsong was in great melody. Bucky’s house was only a 10 minute walk from the gym, so this would be enjoyable.
When Bucky had received government-clearence to become a functioning member of society again, the government had provided him a home to start his life over again. Steve was proud that his life-long friend could finally live in peace; and that his house was so close to Steve’s own apartment.
As he approached the small yet cozy house that was Bucky’s, Steve could sense that something was off. As he walked up to the front door, a sudden sense of dread washed over him.
Why do I feel like this? Bucky has been fine for the last year. Granted, he drinks sometimes, but the serum is more than enough to keep him from going too far.
Steve knocked, internally praying for someone to come open the door.
Nothing.
Steve knocked again.
Nothing.
I do have a key, but I don't want to be rude. He is probably just taking a nap.
As a requirement of his release, the government gave Steve a key in case anything were to happen, and Steve could help faster than the law enforcement could.
Steve ultimately decided that barging in on him was better than risking Bucky’s safety. He took a deep breath and got out his key. The birdsong was quieter now. The sun was still shining, but Steve couldn’t see any lights in Bucky’s house. The frosted glass around the front door also didn’t help his spying.
click
There, the door was open. Steve had unlocked the knob and the deadbolt and could now push on inside.
Once through the door, Steve began to rapidly re-familiarize himself with Bucky’s home. Bucky had invited him over a few times, but Bucky mostly came to Steve’s.
There were no lights on and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. The house was an open-concept plus a basement, meaning that even though Steve was standing in the middle of the house, Bucky was not there. Steve walked around just a little bit, through the kitchen, dining area, and the living room. There was a hallway behind the living room that contained the bedrooms and bathroom. Steve surely did not want to go back there, but he had to.
Wait, I should probably lock the front door again. Just in case.
Steve walked back to the front door through the dark house. The windows were open, but soft blinds and curtains blocked most of the natural light.
click
Steve walked back to the hallway and started down it. The room order went: guest bedroom on the right, bathroom on the left, and Bucky’s bedroom at the end of the hallway past the bathroom. Steve checked the guest bedroom first.
Nothing.
He had only peeked his head through the door, but it was really just a bed with covers. Steve walked out of the bedroom and started towards the bathroom. He was getting more and more afraid as he somehow knew that Bucky was not okay. Once he reached the bathroom, he walked all the way in.
Nothing.
He walked out and closed the door behind him. Then, he walked gingerly towards Bucky's bedroom. He knew that something was wrong in this room. Bucky rarely went into the basement. He opened the door, and found the most terrible sight he had seen in a long time. Bucky was laying there, in the fetal position on the floor. His head was rolled back and his arms were laying at ninety degree angles in front of his body. Then, Steve saw it. A giant pool of blood. All around Bucky’s legs.
He immediately crouched down next to Bucky and looked at the damage. Steve could feel adrenaline and muscle memory taking over from the military. Bucky’s left leg looked like someone had taken a knife all the way down it. In other words, a large gash right down the middle of his calf. The wound looked fresh and was still bleeding. It wasn't too deep, but it was a pretty long wound. It was warm to the touch.
Wait! I haven’t even made sure he is breathing yet!
Steve scrambled up to Bucky's head and immediately put his ear near Bucky's mouth.
Breathing. Bucky was breathing. It was shallow; soft inhales and exhales every few seconds.
Pulse. Bucky also needed a pulse.
Steve took his two fingers and pressed them onto Bucky’s neck.
bump bump…….bump bump…….bump bump……
Okay, he’s alive.
Now, Steve could treat his serious wound. Bucky's house was equipped with a first aid kit, as the government had required during his release. Steve immediately got up and ran to the kitchen, where the first aid kit was located. Steve grabbed the bright red box from next to the refrigerator and opened it on his sprint back to Bucky's bedroom. He found a roll of gauze and put it in his hand as he ran back to the weak Bucky. Coming through the doorway, he decided to take off Bucky’s shirt and start packing the wound.
He carefully lifted up Bucky's body and slipped the T-shirt off of his torso. After the shirt was off, Steve checked Bucky's muscular body for wounds. There were none, so he then rolled up the shirt and began to lay it on top of Bucky's wound. The bleeding wasn't the worst he had seen, but it was serious. Steve was now running fully on adrenaline, as the gym had taken a lot of his energy (he still had a lot, he was a super soldier of course). Steve had done this a few times in the military, but that was pushing seventy-five years ago. Surprisingly enough, Steve wasn't put in this position very often.
Every so often while he was packing the wound, he would look over at Bucky. He was checking for any sign that Bucky was going to wake up. This was unlikely right now.
Once Bucky's t-shirt had absorbed all the blood it could hold, the wound had begun to stop bleeding so much. Steve took off his own shirt and started to gently dab the wound to get the rest of the blood under control. Sweat from Steve's nerves and just sheer physical work gleamed on his bare back. He then took the roll of gauze and started to wrap the wound.
While he was wrapping the wound, a very large boom came from the sky, directly followed by a giant flash of light and another sizable boom.
A thunderstorm.
Steve had known that they were supposed to get big thunderstorms today, but he wasn't expecting them right now. The thunderstorms were supposed to be later in the evening, not right now at 4:30! If conditions got any worse outside, Steve would have to move Bucky to the basement.
Steve now realized that he probably should call 911. However, super soldiers these days don't carry their cell phones. Steve was what some might call an “ancient relic”, who didn't find any use in carrying his phone around. If he wanted to meet up with someone, he would just go to their house and ask the old-fashioned way. Bucky was also not permitted to have his phone, per the government. Steve rolled his eyes. The government barely gave Bucky any freedoms. Anyway, Steve had seen a house phone on his way to the first aid kit, but it looked like it was long disabled.
CRASH
ROLLING BOOM
The lightning was getting stronger, the wind had picked up and was howling past the sharp edges of Bucky's house. The rain was beating at the windows.
Wait, it's too moist in here.
That's when he saw the broken glass just a few feet from a broken window. Someone had broken into Bucky’s house, attacked him, and left out the same window. The storm seemed to be blowing the opposite direction and the roof covered the window, both preventing water from getting in.
I'll have to deal with this later.
Steve knew that he had to move Bucky downstairs, now.
Come on Buck, wake up! We need to get downstairs!
Steve was nearly finished wrapping the wound. Once he made his last loop, he grabbed the medical scissors and medical tape. He cut a tail on the gauze and took some tape to wrap it around the end and secure. Steve could feel a panic attack boiling inside him, but after a century of living with anxiety, he was able to push it down for later.
Steve put the medical equipment he had used back in the first aid box and shut it. He then took one last look at Bucky's face and decided that he wasn't going to wake up in time. He touched Bucky’s soft cheeks and felt they were still warm. He ran his hand through Bucky's dark brown short hair as a way of calming his anxiety. The color in his face had returned slightly, but not enough for it to be a sign that he was waking up. Steve decided he was going to have to carry Bucky down the stairs.
Steve looked at Bucky's gauze to make sure it hadn’t bled through already, it hadn’t. Steve started to pick him up. Steve walked around Bucky's body and reached his strong arms under his best friend’s shoulders and knees. He was in a squat position and lifted from his knees to get Bucky off the ground. Bucky wasn't as muscular as he used to be (but still much more muscular than the average human), and that did not make him lightweight. Steve’s adrenaline was fading and his lack of energy was returning.
Steve carefully walked Bucky through the doorway and down the hallway. He then walked into the living room and a flash of lighting immediately lit up the room. A strong flash of thunder shook the house and the windows, providing no comfort to Steve. Steve found the door to the basement, which was located behind the back wall of the kitchen. While Steve was trying to open the door, he realized he would have to set Bucky down in the hallway. Once Bucky was safely on the ground, he opened the door wide enough to fit both of them through. Just as he was about to pick Bucky up, his injured friend let out a soft groan.
Buck! Come back, I know you can do it!
No more sounds came from Bucky, which both comforted and worried Steve. No sound meant that Bucky was still very unconscious, but sounds meant that he was alive and getting his consciousness back. However, sounds meant that Bucky was in pain, and Steve did not want his best friend in pain. Nevertheless, he was no doctor, but he knew this was a sign Bucky was waking up.
He quickly grabbed Bucky and hoisted him safely back into his arms. Steve clutched the warm body close to his own so that he could see over him going down the stairs. He knew if he fell, him and Bucky would be seriously injured, and no one would be there to help them. Working his way down the flight of stairs, Steve began to think of the worst.
What if Bucky doesn’t make it? What if I am doing all the wrong things? Do I need professional help that I can’t get to?
Steve shook off the thoughts. He needed to stay focused because Bucky needed him.