Chapter Text
The cicadas were loud that night, droning on and on. Screeching as loud as their round little nasty bodies could. Buzzing around and thunking against leaves and tree trunks.
Bucky sucked in heavy breaths, way too fast and way too shallow. His lungs wouldn't fill like they were supposed to. A cicada blew past his ear, and Bucky ducked his head to the side and swatted it away in annoyance. Fucking bugs.
A shiver crawled down his spine. Little assholes gave him the creepy crawlies.
Somewhere in the distance, too close for comfort, dogs were howling and barking. Hungry calls in the night air. Following his trail of blood. Following his dying body as it stumbled through the woods surrounding the cabin.
Bucky tipped his head back against the tree bark behind him, eyes landing on the sky above. Thick clouds were beginning to blow in, but you could still see the stars. They were so pretty. So bright and twinkling and hopeful and...far from here. So far from here.
Bucky wished he could be far from here.
Gnarly roots dug into the backs of his thighs, jagged bark scraping into his back and making his spine ache. The knees of his pants were torn and bloody, ripped open to an unfixable degree after falling repeatedly in the mud.
Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the headache ripping through his skull. He sat with his back pressed against a wide red oak tree, big enough to easily have been alive for a hundred years. Knees pulled up to his chest, his elbows rested over them, shaking uncontrollably.
The super soldier took a painful breath, dragging his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face. His fingers caught in knots and dirt, and he struggled with it for a moment before finally giving up and dropping his arms to his sides again.
He'd ran as far as he could go. Bucky couldn't make it any further.
As soon as he'd seen those dogs, Bucky had made a mad dash for the woods. He had disappeared into the trees, trying to cover his tracks and vanish like he'd been trained to. Unfortunately, his body voted otherwise.
He didn't know how long he'd been moving. An hour, maybe? It was hard to say. After falling into puddles and ditches four times, he'd finally slid to a stop, landing on his ass behind a tree. Blood was dripping down both his knees, and definitely from both bullet wounds, too. He probably had a concussion from the blast.
He hadn't had a concussion in a hot second. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
Bucky sucked in a breath, then leaned to the side and puked. Yeah, that's what a concussion felt like. He definitely hadn't forgotten. Fuck.
He wasn't going to last much longer out here. The dogs were closing in. He could either climb the tree, and let himself be cornered and captured. Or, alternatively, keep trying to run and let the dogs tear him to pieces. Both sounded pretty shitty.
The super soldier tried to even out his breathing as much as he could. He needed to focus. He was trained for this. Made for this. He knew what to do.
His eyes snapped open again, hazy blue darting around the forest, looking for any sign he'd been spotted. Nothing yet. Just the dogs howling, closer and closer. They couldn't be more than a mile away now. They'd be on him in a matter of minutes.
Time to move. The super soldier lurched to his feet again and threw his body forward. Bucky jammed down the pain and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, as fast as he could. He needed a plan. He couldn't outrun them.
A wide river appeared before him, white water catching the beginnings of the sunrise. Bucky slid to a stop on the muddy bank. His heart thudded in his chest, trying to catch up with the rest of his body. Shit. He glanced over his shoulder. The barking was closer now. Way too close.
He twisted back to look at the river. The water was high from all the recent rain, crashing violently against the rocks that jutted upward towards the sky. Bucky dragged his metal hand through his hair again in frustration. There was no way he'd make it across in his condition. The current was too strong, and his body was too weak. And drowning was really, really not fun.
Fuck. FUCK. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do he didn't know what to do--
What would Sam do?
Bucky's skin prickled at a sudden noise behind him. A branch snapping, leaves rustling. A low growl. The hair on his arms stood on end. His body froze, muscles taut with anticipation. Dread thinly veiled as an imaginary spider crawled down his back. The Winter soldier looked slowly over his shoulder again, trying not to move too fast.
Bright yellow eyes blinked at him from the underbrush. They disappeared for a moment before the dog stepped out of the foliage, hackles up and nose down. He looked hungry. He sounded hungry. Bucky shot one more look back at the river, trying to figure out what his escape plan was. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest.
Then, much to Bucky's dismay, another set of eyes appeared. The Winter Soldier swallowed hard. He could fight them. Only two had found him so far, but it wouldn't be long before the other two joined the party. Maybe if he was in better fighting condition, he could do it. He'd probably get bitten once or twice, but he'd survive.
But right now? His hands shook hard as he once more made a futile effort to find his knife. Nope. Not there. He knew it wasn't, but it didn't hurt to check.
Both dogs moved opposite directions, prowling forward and trying to circle around him. Bucky's eyes darted frantically between them, and he backed up until his boots splashed into the river. There was a German Shepherd on the left, thick muscles and a shining coat. Ears pinned back, sharp teeth flashing white. The other was some kind of pit mix, Bucky assumed. Gray with a white patch over his ear. He was cute, he thought. Too bad he was literally foaming at the mouth for blood.
With a hungry snarl, the shepherd lunged forward, jaws angled straight for Bucky's neck. The super soldier ducked to the side, and the dog's foot caught him in his metal arm. Thick claws scraped against vibranium with a loud shriek. Nails on a chalkboard.
Bucky cringed at the sound. The dog slid to a stop a few yards to his right, rocks and dirt flying up in its wake. Bucky twisted around to avoid turning his back to it. Before he could blink, the pit was at his feet, snapping at his calves and lunging for his crotch.
"Goddammit--" Bucky twisted away again, faltering back a few steps before managing to kick the pit away. The dog fell back with a loud yelp, and--as absurd as it seemed right now in the heat of the moment--Bucky felt bad. He really liked dogs. It wasn't their fault they had such shitty owners.
The shepherd was behind him somehow. Fuck, they were fast. It crashed into Bucky's back and sent him sprawling forward into the dirt. The air left his lungs, and he felt a rock cut open the side of his face, all the way up to his eye. He blinked away blood and managed to roll over as soon as the shepherd was on him again.
He wrenched his arms up to protect his face right as the dog lunged for his neck again. Sharp teeth scraped against shining vibranium, sending that blood curdling sound piercing the air again. Bucky managed to use his metal hand to grab the shepherd by the nose and shove his face away. Fuck it was strong. A German Shepherds bite force could reach over 300. Bucky knew this. Three hundred was more than enough to snap his bones in half. His stomach flipped at the thought.
He'd broken plenty of bones before, sure. But having an animal do it with its teeth? Way worse.
He wrestled with the shepherd for a minute before finally pulling his knee up and kicking it away. The dog fell off to the side, skidding against mud and grass before bolting upright again. It ducked its head and eyed him warily, hackles up. Bucky rolled over and pushed himself upright, shoulder screaming in protest at the movement.
He whipped around, hands up in defense, to face the dogs. The shepherd stood snarling at him, braced for a fight. He looked pissed.The pit was...
Fuck. Oh, shit. Where was the--
A sudden forced ripped him forwards again. He barely managed to stay upright as his right arm was wrenched forward so forcefully he couldn't bite back the startled cry of pain that escaped him. "Fuck!" He used his metal hand to pull the dog off his arm and shove it away. The pit landed on its feet, looking at him like he was dinner.
Bucky gasped for air, something nauseatingly hot and sharp burning through his bicep. Fuck. FUCK. He looked down at his arm and saw blood running freely and dripping onto the grass below him. He sucked in a ragged breath that burned his lungs and looked back to the dogs.
They acted together as a unit, one fluid movement that had them criss-crossing their paths and slowly circling their way to Bucky's blind side. He looked back and forth, not daring to look away from one or the other for very long. They'd be on him again in a heartbeat. As soon as they regrouped he'd get fucking eaten alive. Again.
His heart pounded in his chest. Warm blood trickled down his arm, soaking through his jacket sleeve. Dammit. He was out of options. He wasn't going to win this one. And, to be honest, he really didn't want to kill a couple of dogs.
Distant howling reached his ears. The other two had found them. He had minutes, maybe. Seconds, more like. Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--
Bucky bolted. Heavy combat boots splashed into the river, cold water instantly soaking through to his socks and up his pant legs. He glanced over his shoulder as he staggered forward even deeper. The dogs had paused on the bank, their self preservation instincts kicking in. They stood barking and snapping angrily, up to their ankles in water.
He didn't think the dogs would chase him through the water, not with how choppy and dangerous it was. Thank fuck he was right.
He crashed deeper into the river. As soon as he hit chest level, the cold took his breath away. He gasped and struggled for half a second before finding air again. The water was too high. Bucky was a strong swimmer, but he struggled with the current and the whitewater crashing against the rocks.
He fought against it for what felt like centuries, the cold mercifully numbing his pain. Before he could relish in the small victory, the water pulled him under.
It happened so fast and his mind registered it too slow. He automatically tried to take a breath and instantly felt water flood into his lungs and sear through his chest. He started to drown.
Bucky choked hard on river water. It felt like ice. So cold it was unnatural. It was summer. It was fucking summer. How was the water this cold?
Suddenly he surfaced again, hair plastered to his face, obscuring his vision and making it hard to see which way was out. The current threw him like a ragdoll against the sharp rocks jutting up above the surface. There was pain somewhere. Everywhere. It was hard to tell.
His feet felt something solid. He threw all of his energy forward and found himself dragging his half dead body onto the river bank. The soldier collapsed into a heap, coughing and sputtering up water, fighting for air.
He laid there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He could vaguely hear the dogs on the other side of the river, or he could be imagining it. There was a lot of water in his ears. Bucky rolled over onto his back and blinked up at the trees. The sun was beginning to rise. The darkness had lifted to a lighter shade of gray that had grown thick with clouds. He grimaced at the thought of more rain.
Everything hurt. Everything hurt so bad. He used to be so good at compartmentalizing the pain. He was still pretty good at it, actually. But he'd lost his edge. Since he wasn't being brainwashed anymore, it seemed a whole lot harder to ignore his body when it screamed.
Bucky dragged himself to his feet. He really didn't want to, but sometimes you gotta do hard shit. That's what his therapist would tell him, anyway. He glanced back to see all four of the dogs barking and howling at him. They paced back and forth, and one even experimentally tried to make the swim. The winter soldier noticed the thick collars they all wore, and the blinking green lights on them. Trackers, for sure.
Bucky dragged his flesh hand over his face, wiping blood and water out of his eyes. Then, he cursed under his breath and stumbled forward again.
_________
His feet fucking hurt. He was pretty sure there was so much river water in his boots and soaking through his clothes, he could start his own lake. More than anything, he was cold. It was summer, and the night breeze was cool and peaceful, but being soaked to the bone really brought out the chill in the air.
Bucky finally dropped to the ground again, trying to focus on just breathing. He knew the dogs were still behind him. It wouldn't be long before they found him again. And along with them, their owners. He needed a plan.
Bucky choked down a gasp of pain as he peeled his jacket off. He looked down at it, running his fingers over the fabric for just a second. Damn. He really liked this jacket. Thick, warm flannel layered beneath a more solid outer layer of leather. It was bulky and heavy. It was perfect.
Sam had given it to him. Of course he had.
"Thought you might like it. Seemed like your style, all edgy and shit."
Bucky threw a ball of wrapping paper at him. "Shut up, Wilson."
Sam laughed, catching the paper and dropping it to the floor. His words softened unexpectedly. "Besides, you're always...you know, cold. Thought it might help."
Bucky froze, not looking up. If he saw Sam's face right now, he might just cry. And he really did not want to do that. How embarrassing. He pulled the jacket on, rolling his shoulders out and smiling. "It's perfect."
Sam beamed. His smile was so beautiful. So perfect. The epitome of daylight. Bucky loved seeing him smile. "Good! Glad I picked the right size."
Bucky turned his eyes down to his feet, suddenly feeling shy. "Yeah. I love it. Thank you." He didn't need to look up to see the look Sam was giving him right now.
Bucky was snapped out of his reverie by a branch crunching nearby, not five yards away. He stiffened, enhanced eyes sharpening in the dark and trying to find the source. Please don't be a dog, please don't be a dog, please don't be a dog--
A squirrel dropped to the grass, crunching leaves below its tiny feet and leveling its eyes at Bucky.
You look like shit.
Bucky rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up. At least I'm not a fucking rat." He vaguely wondered if his words sounded a little slurred. He was pretty sure they were, but, hey. Tree falling in the forest, and all that. Right?
Did he say that out loud?
...
Did he just try to talk to a squirrel?
Goddammit.
Bucky balled his jacket up. It was already drenched in blood and river water, but he pressed it to his gut anyway, letting it soak farther into the fabric. Since the bullet hole didn't seem to want to stop bleeding, he might as well use it.
He pulled the fabric away after a moment, trying to breathe through the stars that exploded before his eyes at the sudden pain. Bucky looked down at the jacket in his hands. Damn. It was so silly. So stupid. Childish.
He felt bad. Guilty for throwing his gift away. He really liked it. He hoped Sam would get him another one. What if he thought Bucky had hated it?
Bucky pulled himself to his feet, staggering a few yards to the left before chucking the jacket as far as he could with his metal arm. He aimed up, watching it catch on a tree branch and hang there. Should give the dogs a good run. Hopefully, they'd follow that instead of him.
A loud bark echoed through the trees nearby. Too close. He needed to go. He needed to run. He needed to find Sam.
He didn't even know where he was.
Bucky stumbled forward, shoving the pain down. Putting it in its crate. Slide the lock. Throw the blanket over it. Go upstairs and lock the basement door. Keep the pain down there where it couldn't bother him.
Hope it didn't break free.
Pale moonlight occasionally peeking out from behind heavy clouds was the only thing guiding his path. He didn't know where he was going, just that he needed to go. His footsteps were still surprisingly light, hands careful not to touch anything in case he left a trace for the dogs to find. This was fine. He could compartmentalize the pain.
Probably.
Years ago, when he was stronger--
No. Not stronger. When he was someone else--who is not Bucky Barnes---he barely registered pain. It was there, sure. Glaring and harsh and stabbing against his eyes like needles. It was enough to make a grown man keel over. Enough to make him puke on his own boots. More than once.
But it didn't matter. That wasn't his purpose. His mission. He didn't know what Hydra had given him, or if it was just his frame of mind at the time, but pain seemed to exist on another dimension than his. It was there. He knew it was. It just...wasn't connecting. Like a narcotic. Like he'd been drugged with something heavy duty that dulled his senses just enough that he couldn't make sense of what he felt. He knew what he should be feeling. What he probably was feeling. His brain knew it. But his body didn't. He gazed at his own pain across a wide river, the bridge between having collapsed long ago.
Bucky wished he had that back. Black combat boots slipped on the mud beneath him, sending him tripping forward and catching himself on his hands. The harsh movements sent electricity up his body and straight to his brain stem. Keep going. Keep going. The woods were never ending. There was no good place to hide out.
Bucky stopped, hands hanging loosely at his sides, face tilted up. The sky had finally broken open. It had started drizzling, just barely. The ground was muddy from the rain two days prior, and now it had started up again. It felt so good against his skin. Cool and refreshing. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until water was splashing against his face.
He held out cupped hands, trying to catch the rain, watching it slip between the cracks of his fingers and fall to the dirt. Fuck. Fuck, man, FUCK.
Bucky's knees buckled, then gave out beneath him. He crashed to the dirt again, rocks biting into the already broken flesh of his knees. Pain rushed through his body, cracking up from his stomach and sinking into his shoulder, before rocketing its way out through his right arm.
The super soldier's chin tipped down to his chest. The rain began to soak his hair and gather on his eyelashes, dropping slowly down his cheeks. He couldn't keep his eyes open. Every time Bucky managed to find the energy to lift his head up again, the world spun around him sickeningly fast. He decided, after a second, that he just shouldn't do that again.
He should just rest.
Right. Lay down. Rest.
Please, rest. His body was begging him.
He'd lost so much blood. He'd lost so much blood and been tasered and had a wicked concussion. Not to mention, he needed to find Sam.
Bucky swallowed thickly, blinking fast against the rain before his eyelids dropped again. No.
No, no. Get up. Get up.
You can't--
Bucky could hear the dogs closing in. He hoped they'd take the bait. They probably wouldn't. Not for long enough. They were going to tear him apart. He should go. He needed to go. If the soldier was here, he wouldn't hesitate to get to his feet and finish the mission.
Oh, fuck. FUCK.
Was it bad that he wished he was the soldier again, just for a second? Just to get through this. Just this once.
Bucky dared to blink open glazed blue eyes once again, and immediately everything tipped upside down. Nope. Bad idea.
His brain shook like a snow globe. Stay up, get up. He started to pull himself to his feet. That's right. Get off your ass and--He tipped wildly to the side and caught himself against a tree trunk.
Fuck. Get it together. We're not done here y--
Bucky's eyes rolled up and he fell face first into the grass.
________
"Do you even know where we're going?"
Sam reached over and clicked the wipers up faster. Rain hammered against the windshield and gathered into puddles on the road. Low thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm rolled in closer. Sam made a noise of frustration and squinted his eyes against the rain. "I can't fucking see."
"You want me to drive?" Torres eyed him warily. "I don't really want to crash and die today."
"Shut up," Sam snapped. Torres fell silent and turned away to look out the window, and he immediately felt guilty. "Sorry," he relented. "I'm just...stressed out. It's not you." He tore his eyes off the road to shoot his partner a glance.
Joaquin gave him a lopsided smile. "I know, Cap. Don't worry, we'll find him."
Sam sighed heavily. His phone chirped twice, and he looked up at the dash. "Can you see who it is?"
Joaquin grabbed his phone and studied at it for a second, eyes widening in excitement. "It's Redwing. He found something."
"What? What is it?" Sam looked back and forth from the windshield to his partner, trying to get a look at the screen.
"Eyes on the road, man." Torres was quiet for a second, then reached down to pull his tablet out of his bag. "Hold on a sec."
There was a beat of silence as Joaquin tapped away at his tablet. The rain pounding on the roof drowned out the quiet sounds of the radio.
"Okay, okay, wait." Torres shot his hand out to motion for Sam to brake, voice urgent. "Stop stop stop turn around--"
"What!" Sam slammed on the breaks, sending Torres flying forward in his seat.
"Fuck! Man what the hell--"
"You were yelling at me to stop!"
"I meant slowly! Fucking slowly not--"
"Torres, what does it say?"
"Jesus Christ." Joaquin tugged at his seat belt to loosen it. He took an exaggerated breath before speaking again. "Heat signatures."
The SUV sat idling on the side of the road, rain pelting the windows. Sam's knuckles were tight around the steering wheel. "Heat signatures, plural? Like more than one? How many are we looking at?"
"At least eight, from the footage. It's kinda grainy from the storm." He tapped at the screen, switching back and forth from maps. "We went too far. We gotta turn around about a mile."
The road was so skinny that Sam had to maneuver the oversized vehicle into a three point turn. "You sure it's not a bunch of deer or something?" Gravel crunched underneath the tires as he hit the gas again.
"Nah, they're definitely human shaped. Well, most of them."
Sam's chest tightened with dread. "What do you mean 'most of them'?"
Joaquin grimaced. "I mean most of them. If Bucky's there, he's not alone."
Sam's fingers drummed against the wheel anxiously. "I didn't expect him to be."
"They look like dogs, Sam. Really big dogs." Torres motioned for Sam to stop. "Here, right here. Pull over."
Sam turned left off the skinny back road and the car rolled into the mud and grass. "Through here? You think this thing can make it much farther in this mud?" He experimentally pressed on the gas and the tires spun out for a second before pulling the vehicle forward again.
Joaquin didn't say anything, just looked out the window at their surroundings, grip tightening on his tablet. His expression was solemn. "Listen, you know I'm an optimist, right?"
Sam put the SUV into park before killing the engine. He looked over at Joaquin, who was still staring out the window, brow creased with stress. "Yeah, kid. You're like...the most optimistic person I've ever met."
"I just think...I think you should be prepared, you know." Joaquin turned to face Sam. "Just in case." He cleared his throat. "I just don't want you to be blindsided," he added quickly.
Sam heaved a sigh and finally let go of the wheel. Jamming the keys into his pocket, he twisted to reach into the back seat and grab his wings. "I'm not gonna be blindsided, Torres. Don't worry."
"That cabin was completely dusted, man. It's a miracle we even found bodies still intact." His voice was soft and careful. He fidgeted with the tablet, playing with the maps.
Sam reached out and put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I know you're just trying to look out for me, Torres."
Joaquin looked up.
"And I appreciate that, I really do. But you don't know Bucky like I do."
Joaquin smiled a little and threw open his door. Raindrops immediately started splattering against the interior and soaking into the seats. "Nobody does, Cap."
Sam climbed out of the vehicle and strapped his gear on. Water stuck to his eyelashes and dripped down his face like tears. He slammed the door shut again before coming around to stand with his partner at the edge of the forest. "He's one stubborn son of a bitch. It's actually one of his worst qualities."
Joaquin flashed him a mischievous grin. His hair was already soaked with rain, and it ran down his falcon gear in glittering rivulets. He cracked his knuckles and started trudging through the grass towards the trees, Sam close behind. "And that's what I love about him, Cap. Insufferable bastard. I'm ruining my hair for this!"
Sam shoved his shoulder playfully, his laugh echoing through the empty air. The pair hiked forward, silhouettes sinking into the dark treeline.