Author's Note: I claim not of this for profit nor claim to own anything from Marvel. Did anybody catch the reference I used at the end of the last chapter? If you did post it in the reviews. Anyway I'm really excited that I've had a lot of time recently to work on this fanfic and get out chapters to you. I'm also really excited to be entering into Agents of Shield material. This chapter picks up in the Agents of Shield episode Providence just after the team fled the hub.

Chapter Seven

Third Person POV

The Bus shot off into the sky. The HYDRA agents shot off more rounds at the underbelly of the plane, but they did no more damage than a few dents here and there. Before any of DC's security detected that something was off in the Capital's airspace the SHIELD plane it had already cloaked and was dozens of miles away.

"What happened?!" Agent Coulson shouted into his comm as he ran down the Bus's staircase to the infirmary pod that had recently held Skye. He'd heard a huge commotion and a bunch of screaming a few seconds after the bus had taken off which could only mean that the mission to rescue his niece hadn't gone as planned. He quickened his pace down the steps. May followed closely behind him. He promptly ignored her presence, not wanting to deal with the issues he had with her at the moment.

"Clara's been shot sir," Jemma's panicked voice came through from his comm as well as echoing down the corridor's tech lined walls, letting Coulson know that he getting close. "I'm trying to prep for surgery but…"

"How can there be a 'but' about it?" Coulson shouted, his blood boiling, as he and May came around the corner to the entrance of the infirmary pod only to find Agent Trip pointing a gun at a dark haired man who was holding an unconscious Clara bridal style. Through the glass walls of the infirmary pod Coulson could see Jemma rummaging through the medical equipment with Fitz and Skye trying to assist. "Agent Trip what the hell are you doing?" The man holding his niece had his back to him so May and Coulson couldn't make out who it was.

Trip glared at the dark haired man, his gun never wavering from where he had it aimed at the man's chest. "Do you know who this is?" He seemed half furious and half terrified of the man.

It was then that the man holding Clara turned around and Coulson whipped his gun out of its holster with May following suit. He immediately recognized the man, the Winter Soldier. His metal hand, the one he'd seen in grainy images that Romanov had found after the Winter Soldier had attacked her, was now wrapped around his niece's shoulder. Coulson's eyes then traveled to his niece whose shirt was being stained by a steady flow of blood seeping from the center of her chest. Coulson had to represses the urge to shoot the Winter Soldier right then and there.

What stopped him was when the Winter Soldier opened his mouth and began to speak. "Please, just help her." The Winter Soldier looked down at Clara and then back up at Coulson, his eyes pleading.

Coulson started to lower his gun, in spite of the stunned glances from May and Trip.

"Let me through!" Jemma broke the silence and pushed past Trip. She walked right up to where the Winter Soldier was holding Clara, regardless of the obvious fear the rest of her team felt towards him. She pried open one of Clara's brown eyes to shine a light in. "Her pupils are sluggish, I need to get her in there now." Jemma took hold of the Winter Soldier's arm and began to pull him towards the infirmary only to be stopped by Trip stepping into their path.

"But he's…" Trip began only to be savagely cut off by Jemma.

"I don't care who he is!" Jemma raged. "Get out of my patient's way!" Everyone was momentarily stunned at the usually tame and sweet scientist's outburst.

"Let them through." Ordered Coulson. "We'll deal with him later."

Jemma brushed past Trip into the infirmary with the Winter Soldier following right behind her.

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"What do I do?" Bucky tried to control the emotion in his voice and failed miserably. Clara had begun to feel cold and her breaths where getting shallower and shallower.

"Set her on the table and get her shirt off." The doctor he'd heard called Jemma when he'd first gotten on the plane ordered over her shoulder while she grabbed a metal clamp and gauze. "Fitz," she looked in the direction of a young man who was standing next to another brown haired woman at that back of the pod, "You and Skye set up and IV and heart monitor."

May, Trip and Coulson watched from the doorway. Coulson had his hand over his mouth to keep from falling apart.

While Fitz and Skye scrambled to set up tubes and wires that he didn't try to name, Bucky gently laid Clara onto the hospital table, her blood immediately staining the pristine white sheets. He was hesitant to take her shirt off, some of his upbringing about how to properly treat women that he vaguely remembered kicked in, but he knew that in order for the doctor to do her work she was going to have to be able to get at Clara's wound. Clara's buttom down shirt would take too long to get off if he undid every bottom so he grabbed both ends of the shirt and easily ripped it open, sending buttons flying everywhere, a black bra preserved Clara's modesty. The bullet hole was right in the center of Clara's chest, just below the collarbone.

Jemma came up to the other side of the table and began to wipe away at the blood still pouring out of Clara's chest. As she did this Fitz inserted an IV into Clara's forearm and Skye hooked up several monitors along Clara's collarbone and forehead. Immediately the computers that the monitors were hooked up to began to set off alarms and beep loudly.

Skye stared wide eyed and frozen at the computer screens. "That's not good is it?"

Jemma wiped away what seemed like pints of crimson but more just kept coming. "Looks like the bullet went all the way through. It missed the heart but punctured the aorta. Fitz, we need to get this bleeding under control, hand me the…"

Then the screen monitoring heart rate flat-lined.

"She's crashing, defib now!" Jemma jumped up on the table and began chest compressions. Fitz shoved Bucky away from the table and rushed a machine with paddles into Jemma's hands which she took and placed one over Clara's heart and the other on her side. "Clear!" She shouted and pressed a button in one of the paddle's handles. A jolt went through Clara's body, her back arched up from the table and slumped back down. The heart monitor continued to read no heartbeat. "Again! Clear!" Another jolt went through Clara, and again no heartbeat. "Clear!" Nothing.

"Clear!" Nothing.

"Clear!" Nothing.

Tears were running down Jemma's face. "Clear." She couldn't even manage to yell that time.

As she raised the paddles to shock Clara again Fitz caught her arm. "Jemma…" Jemma shook her head and wrenched her arm away, "Jemma she's gone."

Jemma threw down the paddles and climbed off the table. She stood stock still for a moment, just staring down at her friend's body one the table. "Ahh!" With a scream she whirled around and swept a computer off the table behind her and sent it crashing to the ground and cracking the screen.

Jemma made to throw another piece of equipment to the ground when Fitz caught her arm and pulled her into an embrace. She fought him for a moment but after a few moments she gave in and they cried on each other's shoulder.

Bucky felt his shock wear off. He slowly stepped up to the table, his eyes dead, and took her small hand into his. His flesh hand felt that she was already freezing, his metal hand couldn't feel anything. Bucky had failed her. He glanced down at his jacket that was still stained with her blood. She was one person who had helped him and hadn't been afraid of him, even when Steve had been afraid of him. She was the first person he had tried to save after all those years of killing but she'd ended up dead just like everyone else. Maybe that's all he was and would ever be, a killer.

"Clara, baby." Bucky looked up as the older man from before, the one who'd let him into the infirmary with Clara, walked into the room. He looked close to falling apart. "No. Not you." He pushed a stray strand of curly blond hair out of Clara's face. "Not you." He bent over shaking with an invisible weight on his shoulders as hard silent sobs wracked his body.

Bucky felt a slight warmth under his hand, but he ignored it as he focused on the older man across from him. "I'm…" he paused when he felt tears threatening to fall from his eyes, he couldn't remember if he'd ever cried before. "I'm so sorry."

The older man only shook his head in response and braced his elbows on the table with his head in his hands.

The heat under Bucky's hand began to get hotter to the point of almost painful. Bucky lowered his gaze and saw the impossible. A faint, but growing, glow that was spreading through Clara's arm illuminating and tracing the path of her veins. He looked over and saw the same thing happening on her other arm. The heat suddenly roared to a blaze and Bucky whipped his hands away. The older man noticed the sudden rise in heat and jumped away from the table as well.

The glow coming from Clara increased until she glowed through and through with a brilliance that made it look like golden lace was woven just beneath her skin. The surrounding tissue of the bullet hole in the center of Clara's chest began to glow even brighter than the rest of her.

"What's happening Jemma?" The older man questioned.

Jemma watched in awe, as did everyone else, as the bullet hole began to close up. "I have no idea sir."

The bullet hole continued to close up until the only evidence that there had ever been a wound was the blood soaking the bedding and Clara's shirt.

Suddenly Clara's chest heaved up with a labored breath.

Bucky reached out to take her hand in his again, but his flesh immediately sizzled on contact with her's. He yanked his hand away and took her hand in his metal one, he could still feel the pressure of her hand under his, but the sensors in his hand didn't pick up on the temperature, which to Bucky was a blessing as his metal start to burn red with heat.

Slowly the Clara's glowing veins began to return to normal and with it her temperature. Her breaths went from struggling gasps to normal and her eyes fluttered open. For a moment her eyes were wild, whipping all over the place and going from face to face without recognition. Finally her eyes latched on to Bucky.

"Bucky?" Her voice was unsteady and hoarse as she carefully raised herself into a sitting position. She looked down at her ripped shirt, her eyes going huge when she saw all the blood soaking her shirt and the sheets around her. Then she looked down at her hand in Bucky's and then back up to his face. She shocked him and everyone else by suddenly launching herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "What happened?" She whispered and squeezed her eyes shut.

From where Bucky was holding Clara he saw Jemma turn to the computer she hadn't knocked off the table and bring up some data. After a few moments of searching she apparently found what she was looking for. "Sir." She addressed the older man. "It's extremis."