Mend the Bond
All characters belong to Marvel Comics
{Merry Christmas to all the fans of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes)
"Why don't you ever listen to me, stupid?" Bucky digressed, his voice laced with irritation and his blue eyes burning with intent focus. He knelt down in the snow, feeling the coldness seep into the layer of his pants as his steady hands caressed over the massive gash stripped open over Steve's bruised and bloodied torso.
The young captain had been compromised a few miles back, a HYDRA tank exploded and pieces of metal flew into the air, and sliced through his spangled uniform-tearing the white star and penetrating the firm muscle of his chest. Bucky had been there, standing on the rooftop of a vantage point, watching the whole scene unfold before his acute blue eyes. He wasted to time, jumped off his perched and attended to Steve-lifting the massive and bulky frame of his best with his arms, and carrying him to a sheltered area.
"Steve, this is something that I can't fix with ice-the wound is deep." he issued, lifting his glistening eyes up to Steve's battered face. "I can't do this...I'm not a medic." he snapped, his breath ceased in his lungs for a long moment. "The base is a few miles away-I guess I could use thread and close the wound."
Steve wiped the dark maroon dripping from his swollen lip, and looked at the smear of red painted over his gloved fingertips, almost like he tasted a round of defeat. "Buck, do what you can...I'll manage."
Hearing the gruffness in his friend's strained voice, Bucky gritted his teeth, jaw clenched giving his full lips a sharpened edge as he placed the palm of his left hand over the frigid muscle. He could hardly see, dangling strands of brown hair landed in his eyes and the cold wind slashed over his disciplined and broad features. He hated staring at blood, and listening to Steve wheeze in pain.
"Why am I the only who saves your spangled ass?" he said irelaty. "You've been acting more stupid and reckless...I told you war isn't a place for a Brooklyn kid, but do you listen. No, you're stubbornness and determination always gets you beatin' up and I'm the guy you comes to your rescue."
Faintly, Steve curved the corners of his bruised lips into a ghost of a defiant smirk. "I saved you-" he winced, feeling Bucky's hand sweep over his blemished muscle. The shards were lodged in the skin, cutting through firm tissue and threatening to penetrate deeper. "Unless you suddenly forgot about that..."
"Yeah, I know." Bucky stiffened his lips. "Without you coming to my rescue, I would have been Zola's lab rat. I owe you that, Steve, but you need to stop pretending that you're invincible, yeah, you've got a batch of that German doctor's serum inside of you that makes you like some form of a super-soldier, but you still bleed and you can die out here."
Steve winced as he stood still, fleeting sparing a glance at his wound that stung him more than he would have liked. What stung deeper wasn't the veracity of Bucky's words about their lives, but that he seemed to think he was being reckless out of some inflated sense of indestructibility.
"I know I'm not invincible, Bucky. And you know me well enough to know I've never been complacent in my life. Having a serum in my blood doesn't change that." He spoke passionately with an undertone of frustration and fatigue. "If I'm injured or worst, its because I was willing to put my life on the line for the greater good just like every man we have here..." Steve shrugged tiredly. "My life isn't worth anymore than theirs, and they don't have what I have in my blood... If risking myself means helping to keep them - to keep you - alive to fight another day... then I wouldn't have it another way..."
Bucky pulled out a tattered cloth from the pocket of his winter coat and dabbed on the compromised muscle.
"I warned you never to enter the front lines Steve." Bucky felt jaded pieces of his heart scraping against the layers of his soul. It pained him to see his best friend-his little brother wounded because of careless and rational decision of taking a stand in front of enemy artillery. War wasn't a game of risk. It was a suicide mission. He was an observer in the tail wind of it all, watching young man his age fall into puddles of blood and die alone with their mother's name ghosting out of their lips. He didn't want to see Steve take a bullet and die on the battlefield. He wanted the golden haired avenger to have a life in Brooklyn-dance with a beautiful dame, and grew old. Not to become a mantle of hope to carry all soldier's burdens and forgotten dreams that laid to waste in clusters of smoke and in the deep shades of red seeping into the frozen ground.
Cleaning off the smears of blood, Bucky indently kept his focus on the bruising tissue. "I want you to stay alive...Remember the promise we made back home...Before we entered this stinkin' Hell?" he huffed, breathing through his tightening chest.
Steve fell with his back against the surface, his lips formed into a tight line, the sure sign of a man siphoning off his remaining energy to perform a taxing action. "Yeah, Bucky...I remember. Nothing's changed, buddy..." Steve pulled himself up onto his feet, ignoring Bucky's attempts to keep him grounded and from injuring himself any further.
Memories long past from their youths came to mind of a sickly small blonde boy, suffering from pneumonia and refusing to stay in bed while he could be of use only to have a much larger yet no less compassionate brunette boy eased him back into bed with a cup of milk in hand to feed him.
Steve looked Bucky in the eyes as he eased him onto sure footing. A warm smile spread across Steve's face that spoke volumes if the small tear in his eye was any indication. In a battlefield of chaos and suffering, the boy from Brooklyn survived by that one promise his friend had made to him the day he believed he had lost everything...only he didn't.
"To the end of the line, Bucky. You've always been there for me...taken care of me even when I had nothing..." Steve placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "But now its time for me to return to the favor. Its time for me to help take care of us all."
He began to take steps to walk away...
"Don't you walk away from me, Steve," Bucky yelled back. His stomach churned with discomfort. He couldn't bare to watch the young captain vanish into the cascades of snow. He sensed a winter storm brewing. He felt the unrelenting coldness sear into the bones of his left arm, devouring the warmth in his blood and the air was compacting in his lungs.
He trudged closer to the barren area of pine trees, and stared at his friend limping underneath the contorting branches. Right now, he felt the dread swirling inside him; he couldn't let Steve walk alone. He had to find some way to get his stubborn headed friend's attention.
His pale blue eyes dropped to ground, and a mischievous smirk played across his chilled lip. He crouched down to his knees and packed the snow into a hard, rounded ball. He begrudgingly whipped the snowball, aiming it directly at Steve's back. Success. The snow impacted the area between the shoulder blades, and broke apart over the tattered uniform. "Hey," he growled, waiting for Steve's reaction. "Are you listening to me, punk?"
Steve froze on the spot once he felt the hard and familiar sensation of a snowball hitting his back.
"I thought I taught you not to take cheap shots, Buck." Steve huffed and let out a chuckle as he stared down at the white blankets of flurries beneath his feet. Levity shoved away the block of discontent that stood in front of him. It presented him with another bittersweet memory that left him with...
"C'mon on Steve!" Bucky's voice leered as he compacted the snow in his small gloved hands. He trained his light blue eyes on the skinny golden haired boy coughing in front of the brick walled orphanage. "Don't be such a wimp, a little cold isn't going to hurt you, punk."
"Bucky," Steve brought his gloved hand to his mouth, and hacked out another cough. "We shouldn't be out here by ourselves. What if the head mistress catches us?"
"We'll stuff her," Bucky laughed, a mischievous gleam sparkled in his blue irises. "No old bat is going to keep me from locked in that stuffy room. I'm stayin' out here to have my fun." He stuck his tongue out at the grimy, dark window, and then shifted his gaze back to Steve who was shivering in his boots. "Stop being a baby, Rogers, and enjoy the day."
Steve shook his head, his teeth chattering, "Easy for you to say, Buck, you're bigger than me...You can take the cold."
"Awww," the brunette teenager taunted, molding a snowball in his hand. "Poor Stevie..." He whipped the snowball at his friend's bony shoulder. His blue eyes were leveled, and full lips curved into a fierce expression. "Hit me." he growled, his gaze never left Steve. "Hit me, little Rogers."
"No, Bucky," Steve snapped back, cradling his frail arms against his narrow chest. "I'm going back inside."
"You're unbelievable," Bucky audaciously replied, snorting out his frustration loudly.
Steve dropped his eyes to the ground, and grimaced as he coughed again. "I'm not like you, Bucky," he swallowed, feeling his lungs sticking to his ribs. "I can't have fun with you. Not like the other boys. I'm no good to you, James Barnes..."
"Hey, that is not true, Steve." Bucky yelled out, throwing the snowball to the fence. His blue eyes started to well with tears. "You're a good kid...A decent Brooklyn boy...Yeah, you cough a little," Steve looked at him pointedly. "Okay, a lot, but I don't care about that..."
"Bucky..."
"No," the dark haired teenager protested, irritably. "I want to say something..." He slid his hand through his short locks. "I don't care if you're a runt and can't play baseball with me...I never cared about that..." He whispered, and then lowered his head disdainfully. "You're all I've got left Steve Rogers...If I didn't have you as my friend I would very lost with you."
Steve smirked lightly, his blue eyes filled with tears. "You don't think I'm a pain, Bucky Barnes?"
"Nah," Bucky shrugged, placing his hand gently over the other boy's scrawny shoulder. "You're a stubborn punk, but not a pain." He grinned mischievously, and then he stuffed a handful of snow into Steve's face.
His vision swam momentarily, the edges of his vision blurred a moment. Blinking his vision back into focus, Steve focused in on his friends behind his shoulder as he knelt low and scooped up a handful of snow into his red hands, crushing them into a hard ball.
"That just invites a harder retaliation..." Steve quipped, his smile weak and the air becoming so light that he could barely feel the throbbing ache in his head a moment ago...
Bucky hid behind the divide of a tree, tittering to himself; his blue eyes narrowed at the freshly made snowball in his hand as he trained his stare on Steve through the foggy snowy haze, clutching his wounded chest. His whole body was shaking, and more blood stained the flawless white ground. "It wasn't a cheap shot, Stevie." he snarled through his nostrils, his deep, low voice was deafened by the whisper of snow. His lips curled up, and eyes squinted as leveled a glare of intense blue on his friend. "It was knock some sense back into you."
He curled his stiff fingers over the snowball, "C'mon on Cap," he teased in a daring tone. "Stuff me."
A defiant smirk at the corner of Steve's lips despite the glazed look in his eyes. He suddenly spun on shaky legs and pitched the snowball in Bucky's direction. His aim was off by a centimeter which was both a relief and troubling to Bucky as he watched his friend stumble face first into the snow like a ton of bricks.
"Steve!" Bucky shrieked across the snowy void between them. "Hang on, I'm coming, punk."
Bucky ran. His pale blue eyes owlish, heart felt like it collapsed into the pit of his churning stomach, and he was able to traverse the distance between Steve and him. He vaulted over a rotting log, smacking his boots hard against the ground, but he wasn't fast enough. His body was still rejecting whatever kind of serum Zola had injected in him during his torture sessions while held captive in the factory in Azzano.
He always made up an sore excuse, advocating the truth, focusing on the mission or deluding himself into the shadows. He never wanted Steve to distress about him.
Now, he couldn't lie to himself, the thralls of pain were something not to be ignored. Sometimes when he spoke his voice grew ragged and raw, and his muscles jolted with spasms and the fatigue was draining the strength out of him. His iron-tough defiance and cool composure was altered from weakness.
He was battle-heartened, numb and uncertain. His body was still recovering for the torture he faced and the captivity and his encounters with the most inhumane and deranged Nazi scum that German army had to offer. He was not so easily broken by the countless injections, brainwashing and starvation—he was a soldier, tough as steel and the best sharp-shooter in the army, blessed with a steady hand and perseverance when he engaged the crossfire.
He was normally resilient and could easily rake off the sense of fear and apprehension of encroaching death, but he also had a big heart and Captain Steven Rogers was his cherished friend, and Brooklyn brother.
"Focus Barnes," Bucky whispered under a sharp intake of crystallized breath. "He needs you..."
He stated at the motionless super-soldier, and he felt the all blood in his face, he raced after Steve through the blizzard, his heart throbbing against the constant beat and every sharpened breath he released as time slowed around him. "Steve!" he yelled, meeting the laden, light blue eyes of his friend. "Don't move. I'll help you up, he yelled, frantically.
His boots thumped against the ground, sweat gleamed over the chiseled lines of his face, he skidded to his knees beside Steve, like shortstop at home base beside Steve, ignoring the dull shock in his kneecaps scraped at impact against the frigid ground. A macabre of blood painted the snow. He couldn't tell if Steve was bleeding from the back, his heart was flip-flopping, and thudded to a halt. He stared at Steve's frozen face. Bright, wet blood smeared his neck and rolled over the exposed groves of muscle planes of his stomach. Everywhere. Blood.
"Hey," Bucky patted his gloved, lightly over Steve's bruised jaw. "Steve, wake up. I'm not moving your heavy a**, Sleeping Beauty." he grounded out slur as tears pricked into his eyes. There was no response. His skin was turning into ice. "C'mon, don't..Do this to me, pal. You're Captain America. You can't die on me." He panted out with harboring pleas, his laboring heart was straining against his chest. "You can't die on me Steve. It's almost Christmas...This holiday will mean nothin' to me if I don't have y best friend to share it with."
Frantically, Bucky's numb hands fumbled over his coat, and searched for his two-way Starkradio. "Help is coming, Steve." he baited out a breath, and then pressed a button, bringing the device close to his lips. "This is Sergeant Barnes to base...Steve is down...Repeat Cap is down. I need medical assistance."
No response.
"Dammit," Bucky seethed against gritted teeth, whipping the radio into the snow. "What can I do now?" he questioned, chewing on his lip, and glancing down at Steve's heaving chest.
"Buck… I'm sor…" The name slipped past Steve's cold blue lips, sounding as weak and frail as the kid he remembered himself as. Steve felt like he was fading. His vision was a blur of light and confusing shapes that went darker and darker with each breath he took and he could only fight and struggle to keep himself awake and clear. A familiar feeling enveloped him as his mind drifted to what made his all so familiar.
A battered and cold blonde boy, too small for one his age, lay bundled up in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin. A warm homely atmosphere surrounded him but there was no denying the chill in his bones and the ache in his muscles that came from a rough afternoon of being pounded by bullies in the snow.
Despite all the cold and painful discomfort in his frail body, he never felt more warm and overjoyed to see that he wasn't alone. His crystal blue eyes fell on the larger dark-haired boy sitting at his bed-side, staring at him with that simpering smile on his face that was both reprimanding and proud.
"Hey there, tough guy. It's about time you woke up. Your mom is worried. And me? I was starting to think you might sleep through Christmas and I'd have to eat your plate." The dark haired one joked.
The blonde boy huffed which was probably a bad idea since he felt a sharp jolt of pain in his side. A painful groan escaped his lips.
"You had to stand up to those bullies again didn't you?" The brunette boy softly chastised him. His tone filled with a measure of concern rather than condemnation. "Really Steve, you must love being used as a punching bag."
"It was actually snowballs this time, Bucky. Mmnnnf." Steve struggled to sit himself up. Bucky jumped to his side and helped ease him back against the headboard. "They were gonna run out of them sooner or later."
"After or before you passed out?" Bucky's tone was harsher this time, in no way amused by Steve's lack of seriousness for his own well-being.
"They were torturing that poor kid that whose dad was just sent to war...Someone had to stick up for him." Steve defended.
"Yeah? And once you managed to distract the bullies long enough for the kid to get away? Why did you stand up to them? Why didn't you just run?" Bucky pressed, this time distress crept into his tone.
Steve smiled at him. "Why didn't you?"
Bucky sat frozen, his stormy blue eyes were wide and unblinking as they stared beyond Steve's and into a distant memory of rescuing that small blonde boy from the schoolyard chumps. When Bucky didn't produce a response, Steve continued, "What you did for me that day... I got no right to do any less for anyone else."
Bucky thought about where Steve was coming from... Had he been any different than him? 'No...' he thought, forlornly. Bucky shook his head adamantly. "You got nothing to prove Steve-"
"That's not what its about, Buck-" Steve burst into a hard cough that shook his body. He instinctively rubbed his chest with arms beneath the covers as Bucky watched him, contemplating his words.
"Then why do you do it?" He asked earnestly.
"...Because it would be wrong not to..."
Steve watched as Bucky's youthful features fell and he looks surprisingly much older than he should. He couldn't help but feel bad about worrying him. Bucky had pulled him out of the fire to many times to count.
"You're all I have too you know?" Bucky regressed, his watery eyes betraying the strong exterior he tried to convey. "There ain't no Barnes without Rogers..." He smirked weakly, "Just remember that, Stevie..."
"No," Bucky seethed, feeling a dull pang in his chest. He was falling into a daze, flecks of airy snow landed against his eyelids as he stared down at his friend's paling face. He dug his knees stiffly into the ground, coldness penetrated his muscles and shot through bone. He didn't care. He licked his lips, trying to melt down the numbness. He swore to himself that he would never leave Steve, he made a promise to Sara Rogers that he would always be there when the little punk needed him. They were brothers, if not in blood. but in Brooklyn spirit. Unbreakable.
He gripped the strap of the uniform an parted his lips, useless his what he felt when he watched Steve's fluttering eyes peel open and unyielding crystal blue shone with a fearless glimmer. "You can't give up the fight..." He breathed, lungs began to hurt against his ribs. His taunt expression momentarily collapsed into a semblance of utter despair, and he lifted his moist blue eyes to gray sky, allowing tears to run down his face. "I can't..." He choked, mustering up his courage to say the words into the clear air. "I can't let you go...I'm not strong enough...Steve...I never was strong when those doctors told me you weren't going to make it back home."
"Y-Ye-yes…you can…Bucky. You've always bee…"
The silence that followed was colder to Bucky than the gust of winter wind blowing across face. Denial and fear struck his heart with the speed and precision of a bullet and it took enormous willpower for the young soldier to remain on his feet. A residual gloom that he felt constantly throughout his childhood had begun to return to him with full-force.
"…Steve?"
His best friend's ashen features looked as frozen as a statue. His powerful and enhanced form suddenly felt as frail as glass in his arms. It was familiar, it was frightening, it was wrong. Bucky swallowed a tight knot that formed within his throat and he felt a warm wetness begin to collect in his eyes.
Could he have?
'No…' He blinked against the warm drops escaping his eyes; steeling himself against the cold fury enveloping him and its bitter promise of death for his best friend. "No…" Bucky sounded out with a defiant edge. Reaching up to Steve's neck, Bucky felt relief once he felt the faint beat of his friend's pulse. He reached deep within himself and latched onto his resolve that kept him alive throughout his Hydra captivity.
If resolve was not enough, the unwavering loyalty in his heart for the "little" guy in his arms was enough to push the darkness away and focus on the warm light ahead coming from the medical tent the unit had setup. Hooking Steve's arm around his neck, Bucky lifted him up against his side, grunting at the sudden increase of weight that his friend had now taken.
"We're not at the end of the line yet, pal…" Bucky adjusted his stance, trying to balance Steve's weight up against his side. Once he knew it was fruitless to expect Steve walk with him, Bucky decided to lift him up into his arms and carry him forward instead of dragging him. Bucky forced a smirk across his lips. "Not until we have some of that eggnog Dum Dum Dugan made for us…"
The heavy snow became relentless to trudge into, ice flecked over his numbing cheeks, as he blew out a frigid breath, his legs wobbled and boots pounded against the frozen ground. He felt every the cold wind rattle through his bones as he felt Steve's faint breath against his exposed neck. In the distance sounds of artillery fire boomed in the encroaching darkness of the afterglow of the fading sun lit the way, it was a beckon he used for direction, the only light that had been absent from the raging storm. Blinking the building film out of his pale blue eyes, Bucky froze in mid-step, a heartbeat, and then he dared himself to shift a glance at the black pine trees, peering sharply as he caught an harrowing illusion...well he hoped it was an illusion of exhaustion, but it wasn't it his disjointed thoughts playing tricks on his vision.
Inside the passageway of shadow, pairs of reflective and feral eyes stared him down. Gulping down a stolen breath, his eyes widened as he remained motionless in the evoking glares of the dark and snarling phantoms. It didn't take him long to figure out that it wasn't Nazi soldiers staring him down; narrowing his eyes Bucky moved his free hand over the handle of a knife strapped to his side, and kept his gaze locked on the first wolf emerging from the contorted branches.
The alpha was massive, black pelt, daunting ice blue eyes and gleaming fangs stained with blood from the previous hunt. He arched his shoulder blades, lifting his muzzle and caught a whiff of blood seeping from Steve's wounds. It triggered an aggressive motion of attack, slowly the wolf stalked in calculating steps, head lowered and pupils darkened as the stench urged him to engage his invasive assault. He knew the weak spots of Bucky, the throat was an easy target. not much flesh to protect the pulsing veins from the powerful biting force of his fangs, massive amount of blood lost would kill the Brooklyn soldiers. His frontal paws sank into the snow, feeling the vibrations of his human prey captive in his moonlit gaze.
Winter can become a terrible season for a soldier, especially with bloodshed of warfare, and starving wolves the rabid assassins of the forest strive on the wounded, leaving only scraps of cloth from uniform and bones.
"Almost there, Steve… Just hang on." Bucky grunted, biting his bottom lip against the burning in his muscles. The camp wasn't very far – half a mile maybe – but the sheets of heavy snow weren't making the trek back any easier on the Howling Commando. The snow had begun to fall in thicker flakes which brought the path in front of him up to his knees—slowing his progress—and making his unconscious friend and captain shiver in his arms.
"Almost there…" His words were meant to reassure Steve but they were now being used as fuel against the strenuous exertion encroaching upon Bucky. He breathed heavily, dismal at the wisp of fog formed by his breath upon the air. The afternoon sun was veiled by stormy gray clouds above which offered the soldier no small amount of comfort.
He pressed on however despite how much his body was now screaming in protest for him to stop and rest his aching muscles. "Come on…" Bucky grunted with exasperation at the sight of a fallen log blocking the already snowy path. The sight of it was enough to make him pause for a thoughtful moment. Despite all military instinct towards secrecy and safety, one look at Steve's cold features, caked with snowflakes, was enough to make him abandoned protocol and yelling at the top of his lungs.
"HELP! MAN DOWN! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?! COMMANDO DOWN!"
Bucky shifted on his feet, trying to balance Steve's weight in his arms. The effort now felt as fruitless as trying to lift car off the ground. He knew the longer he stood still, the faster fatigue and the cold would catch up to him. It slammed into him furiously, draining whatever strength he had left until he could no longer stand. Bucky fell back into the snow with a grunt, still holding Steve in his arms, cradling him.
"Its all right, Steve..." Bucky held him so that his back was pressed up against his chest. With his strength for the moment replenishing itself, Bucky could do nothing except hold Steve close to keep him warm and hope that someone back at base had heard his cry for help. "I got you pal..." Bucky rubbed his shoulders, finding them caked with snow which made his efforts feel all the more futile.
A clattering noise that sounded almost like a bag of marbles reached Bucky's ears. It was confusing at first but it took him only a moment to realize it was the sound of his teeth clacking against each other due to the cold. He grimaced, closing his eyes against the assailing winds, fiercely whipping up the flakes off the ground and towards his face. Bucky sighed despondently as bitterness and despair had begun to tug at his heart as he found himself once again unable to do anything except hold his fading friend close and whisper words of comfort were unlikely to be heard at this point.
"Where almost there, punk. Its gonna be all right... Its..."
Until now, Bucky didn't believe the situation was hopeless for them. He believed there was still a chance for him to make it back to base, through this wintery nightmare, in time to get Steve medical attention. But it wasn't until the harrowing noise of a wolf-call sang through the air, that the soldier knew things had gone from bad to much worse.
"Damn..." Bucky breathed out, his blue eyes now wide with anticipation as the wolf-call repeated itself...in larger numbers.
Within a moment, he felt his raw skin becoming drenched with cold sweat as he saw it, the leader of the encroaching wolf pack standing on a mount of snow, icy eyes feral as its body crouched down low and it assumed its ambivalent expression and barred his fangs. The menacing wolf listened to Bucky's escalating pulse, giving him indication that the soldier was daunted by it elusive presence. With its back hunched and claws out, the beast waited for its prey to react, inhaling the wafting scent of blood and fear.
Fear was not an emotion that Bucky felt so often in his adult life. He no longer felt it when approaching women, nor when he stood up for what he believed in. War and death had also become so common to him now that it was about as normal as watching a baseball game back home. And yet he still felt fear's grip frequently; back when he was going to be used as a lab rat for Hydra's experiments...and now being surrounded by a pack of hostile hungry wolves that looked ready to make him...and Steve, into their dinner tonight.
'Steve...' Bucky's fear about the current situation had little to do for his own safety, but for that of his friend. Even now with the numbers against him, Bucky could at least make an effort at defending himself...but Steve couldn't. Not unconscious; not in his condition. Looking around himself, Bucky counted and the pack was close to a dozen, but strangely enough, most of them showed no signs of attacking him... except for the one in the middle.
If Bucky had to guess, the huge black furred beast glaring at him with icy blue eyes cold as death was the leader of the pack. Bucky had come across wild rabid dogs back home in Brooklyn...but this was no mutt that could be frightened off easily. A feeling of disquiet bloomed inside of him once he noticed the crimson drops gleaming off the creature's fangs as he snarled at him hungrily.
Keeping a wary eye on the wolf, Bucky shifted Steve's weight in his arms and used his recovering strength to pull them backwards a few steps, but not sudden enough to alarm the wolves into attacking him. Growls of warning came upon him and Bucky felt himself shiver, having little to do with the cold. Bucky risked a glance over his shoulder, spotting the base of an oak tree a few feet away.
"Its gonna be all right, Steve..." He began to drag his friend backwards towards the tree, all the while never taking his eyes off the Alpha methodically stalking towards them. "I'll get us out of this..."
Sensing Bucky's tyranny of distress, the wolf glared him down with cold eyes that turned into ghostly white of pure aggression. Its long muzzle scrunched and wet nose twitch to the scent of blood spilling in a torrent on the disturbed patches of snow as its hind quarters tensed and massive back paws pushed into the ground; all it took was a second to calculate its lethal attack on the two soldiers trapped within its haunting gaze. Snarling, the Alpha looked up at Bucky's throat, pupils enlarged as pointed ears caught the vibrations of the rapid speed of his pulse from the jugular, instincts took full control and a rumbling growl escaped from its throat.
Strategy was a method of the hunter, and patience was a tactic it used to play with the dark haired soldier's emotions, and it waited for the right moment to engage, as soon as Bucky stole another glance at Steve, the wolf positioned its body low to the ground, back legs sprang and with a vicious snarl the wolf leapt into the air and lunged at Bucky, frontal paws spread apart as claws aimed over the broad flesh of the his shoulders knocking the young sergeant down into submission as drool and lingering black ichor from the previous kill seeped from the points of the inching fangs.
Bucky had landed on his back after the wolf pounced at him. The familiar rush of adrenaline burned through his veins and renewed energy—which had previously abandoned him—returned. Despite the lingering cold wrapped around his body, he was still sharp to react in rolling up onto his heels. The back of his body was painted with white flurries, but it did not deter him. And yet, despite his speedy resilience, the young commando again found himself with little time to react once the Alpha resumed his assault.
The Alpha pounced at Bucky again; his pointed fangs gleaming with malice.
Bucky's eyes grew wide with anticipation; the stinging sensation of a ravenous paw slashing across his arm sent hot licks of pain throughout his body; the ringing The young commando grunted painfully while the warm and egregious feeling of his own blood seeped onto his cold skin. Instinctively, he wanted to cover the wound and assess the damage but as a soldier, he knew any further distraction would mean a gory and brutal death.
He doubled-back, still on his feet, in an effort to put more space between him and the large beast whose height stood above his own waist. Strategically, he moved down a small lope in the clearing where the snow was deeper. He watched with baited breath as the black wolf lowered his long jutted muzzle to the snowy surface and began to sniff along the red droplets that had come from Bucky's wound.
The Alpha growled with approval at the scent, raising his head to glare at his wounded prey with his icy blue eyes glistening in the light. The scent of blood and torn flesh was enough to rile the Alpha's pack into a voracious uproar.
Bucky had little doubt they would all be swarming him if couldn't mount a successful defense against their leader. He winced at the pain throbbing in his arm but stood his ground. 'How did this happen?' He marveled at how bad his luck had been since coming to war. As gruesome and horrific as his fate may be as a result of this ambush…Bucky wasn't afraid to die. His true concern was for the unconscious and unmoving blonde laying at the base of the oak tree.
None of the other wolves had so much as spared Steve a glance and Bucky began to fear the reason why. That was his true fear: failing to save his friend. The rest be damned.
A vicious growl brought Bucky back into focus. The Alpha had seemed to sense Bucky's trepidation and used the distraction to resume its relentless assault. Bucky was sharper this time. Having chosen a deeper footing, he watched as the wolf rushed towards him much slower this time due to the amount of unhardened snow beneath its feet. It didn't stop its charge however and once the beast lunged up towards him, Bucky used his strength and determination to catch the wolf and toss him across the path.
The exertion placed on his wounded arm was as painful as being stabbed repeatedly in the same wound. A wave of nausea began to come over him and for a moment it seemed the entire world had begun to spin and feel lighter. Bucky covered his wound instinctively, grimacing at how sticky it now felt.
'Focus, solder. Foc—AAHH!' Bucky's loss of concentration was enough time for the Alpha to jump at his back, sinking its paws into the back of his shoulders and forcing him face-first into the snow. The taste of defeat lingered on the edge of his tongue and Bucky cursed his own stupidity for the deep snow wasn't just a disadvantage for the Alpha, but for himself as well.
His thoughts ran a mile a minute after landing, most of them were panicked based expressions that he batted aside and focused on the one that screamed loudest to him: MOVE! That thought never felt more crucial once he felt a large weight descend onto his back, punctuated by four paws. A hot breath that reeked of death and copper singed the back of his neck.
Bucky reached within himself, collected his pain and fear and formed it into a ball of anger and determination. Releasing his own roar, Bucky threw his elbow backwards and felt it connect with a hard surface that only assumed was the Alpha's head. A startled yelp came afterward which emboldened Bucky's efforts. He threw a second elbow, harder than the last and was relieved to feel the wolf's weight leave his back.
Wasting no time, Bucky used his good arm to push himself back onto his feet; absently he reaching towards the sheathe at his belt. The world still spun before his eyes, but not so much that the soldier wasn't able to tell the difference between the ground and the sky…or the wolf coming right at him. Ready this time, Bucky held the knife ready.
A dark look crossed his features. His blurred vision increased the Alpha's presence to three as it charged towards him. Bucky concentrated as hard as his distorted mind would allow. As the 'beasts' came closer, Bucky made an upwards slash with his knife at the middle.
Precision was lost to him.
Bucky felt the wind knocked out of him and the beast on top of him, snarling triumphantly down upon its intended prey. A pit formed within Bucky's stomach as he gazed into the wolf's eyes; its pupils had enlarged to the point of swallowing its iris'. For Bucky, it was like looking into the eyes of death itself; a gaze that threatened to consume him whole. Bucky had lost hold of his knife after the attack. Droplets of cold sweat dripped off his brow, moistening his eyes.
The sight of the beast hovering above him was enough to make Bucky fear the inevitable had finally come; that this was to be the way he left this world, and having failed his country...and Steve. The Alpha's jaws opened, saliva and blood dripped from its two incisors, prepared to sink their way through the neck of his flesh as would a knife through butter.
In a last effort of defiance, Bucky seized the wolf's jaws with his bare hands; yelling loudly against his onslaught that tried to rip through Bucky's neck. Bucky's body screamed in agony while his wounds bled; but he kept his hands wrapped tight around the canines in an unrelenting hold that made the animal thrash and snarl wildly. Bucky tried to push himself to his feet but his back screamed in protest where the Alpha's paws had struck him before.
The weight of the beast kept him pinned to the ground, the acrid stench of blood and death was suffocating as the beast's jaws moved closer with each passing moment. Bucky closed his eyes, feeling his end was imminent and death's cold embrace was ready to greet him.
'I'm sorry, Steve…'
"Bucky…" The voice was faint and weak, but there was no denying the familiarity of it. Bucky's eyes snapped open wide and searched ahead towards the oak tree. To his astonishment, Steve was on his hands and knees holding something in a tight grip. Behind him the pack of wolves growled with anticipation. Steve raised his head, his tired blue eyes found Bucky's and used them like an anchor to stay afloat long enough to convey his message. '…fight…soldier'
"Steve…" Bucky gasped.
Wordlessly, Steve held up his shield and threw it down the slope.
Bucky felt renewed hope blossom inside of him. It was with that feeling that he risked one his hands… and caught the shield.
Steve collapsed to the ground…
The wolf's jaws came closer…
Bucky raised Steve's shield…
*clang*
An ear-shattering howl echoed through the woods, catching ears a mile out. The vibranium shield in Bucky's hands shook, the sound of collision still thrumming wildly in his ears, but above it he could hear a painful whine coming from the Alpha behind it. The beast slowly stumbled away and Bucky finally felt breath return to his lungs.
All around the area, the pack began to stir and howl in unison, all of them responding to their leader's plight. Bucky's hands bled and his body still ached, but the metal symbol he held in his hands provided him with a strength that surpassed all bodily agony. Latching onto it, Bucky shoved with beast away with a yell of determination.
The Alpha's muzzle was held low and Bucky could faintly see drops of crimson spilling onto the snow. Close by, Bucky could also see a bloody tooth that had been knocked loose from the wolf's jaw.
"If I were you, I'd run before I lose more teeth." Bucky threatened.
The Alpha shook his pelt and set his glacial stare upon the man covered in snow holding the shield.
Bucky could see the hunger and determination in the animal's stare and knew that he would not be backing down from his prey. Despite everything, Bucky admired the wolf's tenacity.
He watched as the alpha shifted his posture so that his upper body was crouched low and his face pointed up at Bucky with a malicious growl bubbling at the back of his throat. Bucky held the shield ready, his right forearm in its sling.
The beast narrowed his blackened eyes and barked as he made his last charge…
Bucky channeled whatever energy he had left into his right arm and swung…
A deafening sound similar to a gong echoed throughout the woods loud enough to startle the entire pack into speedy retreat. Their cries were drowned out for Bucky who listened to the drumming of his own heartbeat in his ears. The shield faintly shook in his arm, but the sensation of it was calming and gratuitous compared to the pain in his wounds that began to catch up to him.
Slightly dazed at his expenditure of strength, his eyes caught the sight of the defeated Alpha lying flat in the snow. Bucky's hearing recovered quick and he could make out the painful whining coming from the animal's muzzle. The wolf shifted upon the ground and for a moment, Bucky felt frustration at the thought that their fight was not yet done.
He felt a weight leave his shoulders and relief settle in once the Alpha began to slowly carry himself away from the area.
Bucky closed his eyes; the shield slowly slipped through his fingers and into the snow. A heavy sigh of relief and exhaustion escaped him. A cold sweat glistened across his brow, his brown thick locks hung wet across his temple and the stench of blood had never been stronger.
And yet…he was still alive. Bucky couldn't have felt more grateful of that fact…
"Steve…" The name suddenly struck him with the force of a train. Bucky's eyes snapped open and set their stare upon his motionless friend laying face down in the snow.
"STEVE!" Bucky cried out. The young commando took a single step forward and felt himself stumble forward until he was moving forward on both bloodied hands and knees towards his friend and captain—who saved his life…again.
The snowfall continued, this time at a more slower and gentler pace.
Once Bucky finally reached Steve's side, he turned him over and felt for a pulse...
Distant noises of searching searching soldiers echoed in the distance drawing close to their position. Bucky ignored it all as he listened and felt for the sound and vibration that mattered most to him. Bucky's eyes brimmed with the unshed tears that threatened to betray him any moment. His free hand closed in on his friend's and held it tight like a lifeline.
"Stay with me, Steve... We're almost home."
Within the twilight hour of Christmas Eve, Steve opened his eyes, slowly, to the frigid breeze passing through the medical tentage, located in the central camp of the SSR and Howling Commando battalion, his head bare torso was elevated with layers of blood soaked gauze swathed over his blemished muscles as the faint shaft of gray light from outside reflected over his dog tags resting in the middle of his firm pectorals, despite the layers of cotton the cold air seemed to penetrate through his unclothed skin into his bones, a harsh reminder that it was still early winter. The dreariness of the December sky crept into his heavy-lidded eyes, becoming captive in the depth of crystal blue irises as he trained his swimming vision at the symbol of the 'Red Cross' billowing against the light snowfall.
Blinking the fuzzy splotches of red out of his eyes, he reared himself against the pillows supporting his back, and received a welcoming and relived touch of a familiar warm against his bicep. His bones racked with a faint chill, and then he stared up when the soft baritone hummed against his eardrums. Bucky. He felt tears forming as Bucky's face came muzzily into focus. The dark haired soldier stood beside the cot, dressed in his dark blue Commando winter jacket, with his scoped rifle strapped over his shoulder blade. His hair was messy and greased with feverish sweat, lose strands hooded his ashen brow, and heavy chiseled jaw shadowed by a faint stubble, but he was still Bucky Barnes, the same buck tooth boy he befriend in the schoolyard, the same blood brother who protected him and was there to help him onto his feet. In some ways, the young sergeant was Steve's guardian angel, but he wouldn't admit because Bucky would just told him that its stupid to believe in that.
"How are you doing, punk?" Bucky asked, his lips curved a half smile, masking his pain. His pale blue eyes narrowed to his laced boots. "You're a fighter Steve, there's no doubt about that." None of those seemed to sink in, it was just a haze of white noise that escaped from his flurrying lips, echoing through the small cluster of space area from the rest of the wounded.
"What happened, Bucky?" Steve murmured, hoarsely, his eyes woozy and his arm trembling as he tried to reach for Bucky's hand to pull him closer. "I remember you and lots of snow."
"You didn't miss much," Bucky told him in a strained whisper, his eyes damp, accumulating more tears. "I'm just glad you're safe." he scoffed away, his fragile emotions.
Steve smiled dumbly, and seized Bucky's wrist with a firm squeeze, voluntarily touching the warm flesh of his friend's steady hands as he noticed a few bandages wrapped over Bucky's arm. He sucked in a deep and short breath, still holding his lips into a genuine smile. "Likewise, pal." he said, his voice low and ached with exhaustion.
Bucky lowered his head as his gloved absently run over the pocket of his winter coat, feeling the wrapped package he had stuffed inside his Commando uniform before he endured a battle of survival between man versing nature. His left shoulder still stung from the wolf attack a few days pass, but he couldn't restrain the intrusion of pain that shot through his veins, he almost lost Steve and broke his promise that he made to the late Sara Rogers. He didn't deserve Steve's friendship, it was his fault the super-solider had lost three pints of blood, and he cursed under his breath a dozen times while shuffling in front of the medical tent, and waited to receive and stubbornly listened the details of Steve's injuries from the SSR medical officer-three cracked ribs, excessive amount of blood loss, severe bruising and a high fever.
He sighed, "Well, we can't all be stubborn ass heroes," he teased evenly , but inside it felt like his churning soul was standing on the edge of a dark abyss, "There's only one Steven Roger," His blue eyes messed up with a layer of water, and then he uttered with a firm, and honest voice, "I'm honored to have that little guy as my best friend." He pulled out the package and throw it on Steve's lap. "Here, it's not much, since we're in war, and Christmas gifts are hard to come boy, unless you like guns and dynamite." he sagged his shoulders.
"Buck, I can't accept this, " Steve replied, bitterly, looking down at the wrapped package with disdain welled in his eyes. "I didn't get you anything..."
Bucky shook his head, a soft smile forming across his lips. "You being here, still breathing...and being so stubborn, is all I need." His smile formed into that coy smirk that Steve found both amusing and irritable. The deadpanned look Bucky received from Steve was enough to tell him that the younger man wasn't convinced in the least by his modesty.
"But...if you want you could always make it up to me later by introducing me to the USO Girls that are apart of your act." A fiendish look came over Bucky that Steve knew meant trouble, "you could even wear the monkey suit when you do it-"
"Not happening. I'll introduce you to the girls, but there's no way I'm putting on that suit again." Steve adamantly refused.
Bucky snorted with amusement. "The tights did make you look spangly-"
Steve groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow and suddenly wishing he was still passed out.
"I'm just kidding, you punk," Bucky shook his head, chuckling at the scandalous look on his friend's features as he was no doubt relieving his unbearable days as the self-proclaimed "dancing monkey", that he may never live down. "Are you going to open that or what?" Bucky gestured to the package still resting on Steve's stomach.
Steve spared the wrapped object a considering look mired by suspicion. Finally after a long moment had passed, Steve released an exasperated sigh and began unwrapping the gift, still feeling guilty about not getting Bucky a real present. "All right, but if its another suit joke I'll-"
The packaging was removed and all fell silent...
The ambiance in the tent had shifted from the friendly jabbing that once occupied it and now what was left was heartwarming if not bittersweet memories of times long passed but still felt to this day. Steve's fingers traced over the clean surface of the glass frame where two young boys-one blonde; the other brunette-roughly the same age stood beside each other at Coney Island. Smiles lit up their youthful faces and neither of them had a care in the world because they had each other... and her.
Steve's eyes glistened despite the passiveness of his expression; his stormy blue eyes settled on the beautiful blonde woman standing behind them, holding them together as though she were a binder but really it was in a motherly fashion. She was a beacon, a bright light for him in a dark point in his childhood where, until he met Bucky, he knew no warmth, kindness or love.
She was his mother: Sarah Rogers.
The tears fell freely and Steve closed his eyes, making no effort to stop their flow. Minutes passed by that felt like hours, but Bucky could see his gift held the affect he was hoping for judging by the twinkle in Steve's eyes as he set his gaze upon him, a warm smile on his lips.
"I kept that old photo with me all these years," Bucky finally broke the silence with a softened tone, looking into friend's moistening eyes. "It's all we have left to remind us of home." he said, with a nonchalant smile.
"Buck, this is beautiful..." He swallowed as tears begun to form on his eyelashes. He stared into Bucky's pale blue eyes with an adjuring gaze, forming a that little bemused crinkle in the middle of his brows as his lips drew up a broad smile. "Thank you, jerk."
"You're welcome, punk," Bucky returned with a cocky smile beaming over his lax face. He extended out his hand for a firm handshake, but instead Steve pulled him into a colossal brotherly hug, wrapping his solid arms over his back, he tried not to wince as the invasive pain from the wolf attack was still present, it didn't last as he felt the embracing warmth of his best friend assure his large heart that they were going to make it through the war, and somehow that little skinny blonde haired boy he promised to protect became his shield against the darkness...His beacon of light.
"Merry Christmas, Buck," Steve whispered, holding his friend close, his voice broke into his throat, "My brother..."
Bucky closed his eyes, although he wouldn't admit it, one solitary tear slipped down his cheek as a small hint of smile resided on his lips, and he wasn't hardened to call Steve by his new name. The bond between them had been stitched back up with unbreakable twine. "Merry Christmas, Cap."
Steve was about to open his mouth when their hug was interrupted by the presence of Dum Dum Dugan entering the tent with a bottle of his "famous" eggnog clutched in his massive hand, the same homemade concoction that some of the Commandos mentioned tasted like rotten eggs mixed with a pint of cow piss. It was bad.
"There you go, gentlemen," Dugan said with a hearty voice handing Bucky the bottle, as the younger soldier reluctantly accepted the gift. He looked down at Steve's bandaged chest, a little smirk twitched under his bushy mustache. "This will put some air on your chests, boys." he added, before wishing them a merry Christmas, and then set his twinkling blue eyes on Barnes, who he nearly flinched, as the ginger haired Commando placed his hand on his shoulder, racking the bones. "When you're done, you've got some singing to do pretty boy..."
Bucky felt the corners of his mouth upturn, "I think you're a fine job without me, Rudolph." he echoed back teasingly, watching Dugan make his leave from the tent, and then lowered his blue eyes at the bottle while flashing a mischievous glare back on Steve. "What's Christmas without a little dare?" he grinned, bringing the bottle to the table.
"No way, Buck," Steve shot back, grimacing at the milky liquid sloshing against the glass. "I'm not spending another day in here..."
"Well, I double dog dare you, Stevie," Bucky grounded out, with a hint of his boyish nature slipping from his lips. "You can't back out of that..."
Steve shrugged, "I can call the nurse..."
"That won't save you, besides you owe me a Christmas present," He tartly reminded him, and then placed the bottle against the pillow. "C'mon, bottoms up, Captain America."
"If I live through this, Buck," Steve gave him a sourly expression, "You're going to wear the spangled monkey suit while signing our countries national anthem."
Bucky clenched his jaw, "If you think I'm going to wear..."
"Alright, maybe not that humiliating since you forget most of the words, but you're going to sing something..."
Their banter was quickly finished as the sound of racket from soldier's playing old records, and singing to the words could easily blow their cover with German scout was spying in the thick shadows, the fact that it was Christmas Eve, created a kindling hope that no bloodshed were happen just like in the First World War from the both sides of soggy and muddy trenches called a truce and shared memories as brothers not in uniform but in spirit. Bucky and Steve preserved Christmas is their hearts, keeping their fond memories of their childhood close as Steve lifted bottle of eggnog to the falling snow; making a toast to the heavens while Bucky silently whispered a soldier's pray of gratitude for saving his best friend.
{I want to thank my amazing and dearest friend for helping writing this one shot.}