"You all right back there?" Bucky asked, turning to look over his shoulder at me. He was, as usual, ahead of me, but I didn't mind.
"Yeah I'm good." I answered with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. I was lying of course; I was tired, cold, hungry, and basically probably as close to totally miserable as I'd ever been.
Bucky smiled halfheartedly in response to my smile, but then it disappeared quickly and he turned back to look ahead.
We'd been traveling all night, stopping every couple of hours to rest when we could find a place that Bucky deemed suitable- a sheltered hollow, a natural cave, close-growing trees, whatever. We didn't really sleep, although I dozed a bit and I think Bucky did too, now and then.
The night had been bitterly cold, leaving a layer of frost on the trees and hardening the ground, and the dawn hadn't had the decency to bring any relief. To the contrary, the morning light had brought with it a stiff breeze that only made us colder.
My light jacket did only the barest amount of good, and Bucky hadn't thought to grab a coat when he'd escaped the house. He didn't shiver, but he also hadn't complained when I'd huddled close to him when we stopped to rest. I walked close as I could while we were moving, also. It only helped a little.
My head still ached dully where Mr. Friendly had thrown me against the van, but it wasn't too bad. More obtrusive was the heaviness in my arms and legs. Now that the blinding fear of our original escape had passed, annoying stiffness and soreness was setting in.
It wasn't that I wasn't afraid anymore, it was just a different kind of fear. While the fear of the day before had been a hot, stabbing knife, the fear that settled on me while we walked was the burning, bleeding wound it left. No less painful or urgent, but easier to move and think with. Of course I had no idea what to think of.
Hydra. That was what Bucky had called our pursuers. It was the first time he'd given a name to the people who'd held him. Not that having a name for them made me feel any better about them, of course. From what little I knew of them they were relentless, heartless, and all but unstoppable. And now they were chasing us through the woods. We had weapons, but whatever we had they had twice as many, and theirs were twice as powerful. We had no provisions, and nowhere to go.
I felt almost fragile, like I was barely keeping myself sane, tape wrapped around a shattered vase. Meanwhile, if I said Bucky was distressed, it would be the biggest understatement of my life.
When Bucky was upset, he didn't show it. You had to look for it, see it in his eyes, in his little frown. But this...it was like his personality had simply vanished, leaving only a hollow soldier, with eyes like a wounded animal, moving listlessly, nervously stopping and looking around like a nervous rabbit, looking back at me every now and again like I might be gone. This wasn't Bucky, not at all, and I was worried.
We walked carefully, trying to move quietly. Despite his state, Bucky still moved more quietly than I did, with a confidence more befitting someone who knew the forest far better than he had any reasonable right to.
Finally, around what must have been midday, we were sitting in a shallow hollow between the protruding roots of a pine tree, and I finally got up the nerve to ask the question that had been nagging at me since the night before.
"Where are we going?"
Bucky seemed to take a moment to realize I had even spoken. He'd been staring back at the path we'd taken to get to where we were, watching for danger. He blinked and turned to look at me briefly with those haunted blue eyes. "I don't know. Away." He let out a breath. "Somewhere public. An audience won't stop them but it'll make them think, and it might give us time to figure out something better."
I swallowed and nodded, turning away. I was pretty sure we were going the wrong way to get to town anytime soon, but I couldn't be totally certain. I could only vaguely remember running from the burning house when Bucky had stepped in to help me. I wasn't sure what direction I'd gone from there, and now I didn't recognize the area.
My stomach had given up growling ages ago and settled on a strong ache instead, which only made my head ache more. I was dizzy and my limbs each seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. I pulled my knees up to my chest, then rested my chin on my crossed arms. I would have loved to just sleep for a little while instead of watching for Hydra agents.
"I'm sorry."
I opened my eyes, blinking in the sunlight, unsure if I'd just heard Bucky speak or if I'd dreamed it. "What?"
He shifted a little bit in his place. "I'm sorry about all of this."
I yawned. "Buck, I told you, you don't have to apologize."
"Sure I do. I've pretty much ruined your life. Your house is gone, you're on the run...you're in danger..."
Stiff with cold I unfolded myself and knelt on the hard dirt. I reached up, put a hand on his cheek, and turned his face so he was looking at me. He still had that unsettling half-gone look in his eyes.
"Bucky, I promise, no matter what happens today, or tonight or tomorrow, or whatever...even if we don't make it, nothing you say is going to make me regret you coming into my house. Okay?"
He stared me straight in the eye, and for a long time neither of us said anything.
He smiled for a second or two, pulling back from my hands. I let him go.
"You said you wouldn't get involved in any crazy superhero drama. You told me that if anyone came looking for me it was on my head."
I shrugged. "I guess I changed my mind. You're stuck with me, now."
He chuckled. "I guess so."
"What about you?"
"Hm?"
"Back at the house. You had the chance to run, to get a good head start and get away while they were distracted searching the house and questioning me. You only got into more trouble coming back to save me. So what made you do it?"
It was probably too deep of a question. He rarely seemed to understand his own feelings or motives in the best of situations. I regretted asking it almost right away, but at the same time I did truly, desperately, want to know the answer. Had it been pure instinct? A drive to save a friend leftover from his days before Hydra? Or actual concern for me personally? I liked to assume it was the latter.
He stared at me straight in the eyes again, the blue of his gaze dark with the forest's shadows and the night's fear, for a few long moments, then finally looked away and back at the path he'd been watching. "I get attached. You fed me, now you'll never be able to get rid of me."
I smiled. Though we'd both used different wording, different approaches, we'd both just told one another exactly the same thing, we're in this together, and even though I'd never imagined Bucky leaving me, not now, not in danger like this, it was nice to hear him say it in even the vague way he had. It was almost enough to make me feel close to safe. Shivering in the cold, I leaned against his side.
He didn't resist, and after a moment moved his left arm to drape it over me. It surprised me, because there was no reason for him to do it, his metal arm wasn't warm, didn't need warmth the way a flesh arm would. It was a purely friendly, purely human gesture, and the first time I could remember him actually initiating physical contact since he'd asked me to stay with him after his panic attack.
I felt myself actually relax, closing my eyes, trusting his alert senses and hoping for a few minutes of sleep.
Then he tensed, eyes going wide and alert, and my feeling of safety vanished into the cold air like our misting breath.
I didn't ask what was wrong, didn't make a single sound. My breath caught. I moved only my eyes, then my head slowly so I could see what he was watching.
Down the hill from us, a single black-clad figure was poking through the woods, watching his surroundings carefully, gun at the ready.
There was only one man. That we could see.
Our hiding place was reasonably sheltered, but he was moving carefully and checking the woods around him meticulously. He would find us if he got too much closer.
Bucky's right hand moved smoothly to the gun he'd rested on the ground beside him when we'd settled down. He never took his eyes off the man.
A gunshot would be too obvious, too obtrusive on the silence of the woods. It would bring all of the agents down on us whether he hit the man in front of us or not. It would be smarter to wait, wait for him to get closer, try to take him down more quietly. But the panicked gleam in Bucky's eyes didn't exactly say 'mental stability', and I doubted he would stop to reconsider.
I opened my mouth. I wanted to tell him to relax, to ask him to find a quieter way, but I didn't want to make a single sound. Even breathing seemed too risky.
Bucky seemed to suddenly reconsider, even without my intervention, and instead of aiming the gun he tucked in back into his waistband where it had been before in lieu of a holster. I let out a soft breath.
Smooth as water over a rock, his left hand moved to push gently on my upper back, urging me to lean slowly forwards, then to continue down so we both began to very slowly move to lie on our bellies on the pine needles and hard-packed earth.
The Hydra agent was moving in a zig-zag pattern up the hill, and at the moment was walking away from us. It seemed too much to hope for that he might simply miss us, especially since he seemed to be studying some sort of electronic device. It was probably tracking us somehow, or scanning for life. Who really knows.
Suddenly there was a loud beep from the machine in his hands and he froze, staring at the screen, then slowly turned until he was facing us. He started to look up, one hand reaching for the gun strapped across his back.
Bucky exploded from our hiding place like a wild animal, closing the distance between us and the agent in a few strides, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down to drive his knee against the man's head. The agent collapsed in a heap on the leaf-covered ground. The entire encounter was almost totally silent, and Bucky barely even broke his stride, trotting to a stop a few feet away from where the man had fallen, turning around to study his handiwork.
It all happened before I could even register that Bucky had left our place, but after a moment I managed to scramble to my feet and hurry over to him, still stunned. I glanced down at the agent lying uselessly on the ground and was relieved to see he was still breathing.
Bucky had removed the large rifle from the man's back and was quietly examining it with a trained eye.
Standing dumbly by the unconscious man, I waited. The woods had fallen back into the normal rhythm of singing birds and gently falling leaves, like nothing had happened at all just now. All that seemed out of place here was the soft clacks and whirrs of Bucky's metal arm against the metal rifle.
Bucky glanced up at me, expression neutral.
I shrugged and gestured vaguely at him and the man on the ground beside me. "That was-"
"I've got 'em!"
Bucky and I flinched in unison and turned to see where the shout had come from.
Another black-clad agent stood at the bottom of the hill, pulling his weapon up to aim it at us. Men were shouting from nearby, something about 'over there' and 'hurry'.
Bucky and I didn't stick around. Spinning around we sprinted in the opposite direction while bullets peppered the trees around us. I wondered if they knew that one agent wasn't dead and if that knowledge would prompt them to be more careful about where they shot. I doubted both.
The ground was uneven and my limbs were nearly numb with the cold of the day. The slippery leaves made it hard to stay upright but I stumbled along at top speed, trying to keep close to Bucky while we ran.
We had a sort-of head start on the agents even as we heard them yelling from much closer than we'd ever imagined they were. They'd been all around us, searching, hunting us down like animals, and we'd never realized it. They'd been so close this entire time. Even as we ran they were close, shouting from every direction at once, occasionally visible in my peripheral vision as shadowy, distant motion.
Bucky ran ahead of me and disappeared. I didn't worry, figuring this would be just like our first escape.
When I caught up to him a moment later he was behind a jagged, mossy boulder. I ran past and he made use of his newly acquired rifle to pick off the agents who were closest to catching up, then he started running with me again.
Despite his effort, there were more agents to replace the ones he shot in an instant, running behind us, shooting when they had a clear view, yelling to one another.
I wasn't running as fast as yesterday. My body ached all over, but fear enabled me to push myself hard enough to keep ahead of the agents, if only barely enough to avoid their shots.
Bucky didn't run ahead of me this time, but stayed beside me, constantly looking back.
It was clear we'd never outrun them, or at least I wouldn't, so it became a game of avoidance. We zig-zagged through clumps of trees, over rocky outcroppings, doubled back on our route, anything to confuse them, and it almost worked. After a minute or two they were far enough behind to be out of sight, though we could still hear them.
We kept running, giving up on the dodging and weaving now that we were far enough ahead in exchange for just plain running. We put as much distance between us and the Hydra agents as we could, as fast as we could.
We stopped to rest a few minutes later, trying to keep our breathing quiet enough to hear if anyone was approaching. Or at least I had to keep my breathing quiet. Bucky seemed hardly effected at all. At least he was hardly effected by the run.
We stood close to the tangled roots of a felled tree, the base of which, forming an earthy wall beside us, was taller than Bucky by at least two feet. I leaned against it, feeling dizzy, breathing hard, watching Bucky.
He was peering around the roots, watching the way we'd come. He barely seemed bothered by the run, but the entire ordeal was obviously wreaking havoc on his mental state. His face was nearly blank, growing emptier every mile we traveled. He was falling, dropping from James Buchanan Barnes back down, down, down an icy slope back to the Winter Soldier. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I let my head rest back against the dirt of the roots behind me. My legs were trembling, and I hated myself for it. If I couldn't make it through this Bucky would let Hydra get him back. Or he wouldn't let them take him, not alive, if our conversation from the night before was anything to go by. And it would be my fault because I wasn't strong enough.
Maybe if I was stronger I would know what to say to Bucky, what I could tell him to make him stay himself, to fight the Soldier and win. Maybe I would be able to pull the gun from where it was tucked into my pants pocket and actually fight back instead of just running. Maybe I would be able to keep up with him when we ran. Maybe I would be able to come up with a plan.
I thought about how many books I'd read where the strong female lead rose to the occasion, came up with a clever plan, and saved the day. Or at least was useful. What was I? Deadweight.
Suddenly, the distant shouting from the Hydra agents went silent. I lifted my head and looked at Bucky. His eyes had widened and he looked disturbed.
"Buck?" I breathed.
He took a few moments to respond, staring at the woods behind us until he finally turned and looked at me, blinking the terror out of his eyes. "They're going to try to sneak up on us again." He said, his voice a barely audible breath like mine had been.
"Fun." I sighed. "What can we do?"
"Keep moving. No more resting, it wastes time. Let's go."
He started walking, and for a moment I only watched him, the way he walked, like there was a heavy weight over his shoulders, each step looked like his body weighed a thousand pounds.
No more resting.
I sighed and pushed away from the roots, following him.
We moved as quickly as we could while making as little noise as possible. The benefit of our earlier run was that it had warmed us up, but I for one was growing cold again as we traveled.
The day was slowly fading into evening, the sun dropping behind the mountains and the forest dimming around us. The wind picked up, too, whipping through the treetops and cutting straight through us. It was worse when we were on a hill.
I followed Bucky closely, wondering bitterly how we could deal with another night of cold. I was cold, hungry, exhausted, jumping at shadows, imagining every noise was a Hydra agent creeping up on us. I didn't want to dwell on my problems since it wasn't just me out here, but thinking too hard about Bucky made me nauseous.
He wasn't talking to me at all anymore. It was true that silence was safer at this point, but I was worried by his totally shutting me out. Even if I asked him a question directly I would maybe get a vague grunt or mumble in response.
If he became the Soldier again, what would happen? Would he turn on me like a feral dog? Leave me alone in the woods? One way or another I would almost certainly never see him again. He would be gone, in every sense of the word. Hydra would take him again. Or there would be a massacre when they ran into each other. I swallowed hard against the feeling that rose in my throat when I thought about it.
We were walking along a ridge, the evening light slanting through the trees, only a few birds chirping. The ground was frozen and crunched under our feet in a steady rhythm. Ice shone in the fading light in a few random patches.
"Bucky," I whispered, desperate for something to break the spell of frozen, fearful silence, "be careful of the-"
I'm not sure which of us slipped, maybe we both did, but either way we were very suddenly sliding and rolling down the ridge, striking arms and legs and heads on the ground and on rocks and each other until we finally landed in the muddy hollow.
My head was spinning, and it took some time before I could make sense of my position. I was on my back staring up at the darkening sky, my back sinking in cold mud and stagnant water.
I started to sit up to look for Bucky but just when I started to move, a metal hand clapped over my face and pushed me back down.
My heart was immediately racing, my mind flashing with images of Bucky finally dropping back into the Soldier, attacking me, drowning me in the two inches of dirty water in the ditch, or snapping my neck, or maybe both. I turned my head to the left very slowly.
Bucky was lying on his stomach less than an arm's length away, face smeared with mud, eyes at once both terrified and angry, something like a trapped animal, while he stared up at the top of the ridge.
I didn't turn my head but I listened. Up on the ridge came a familiar, rhythmic crunching. Someone was walking up there.
We were lying at the edge of a line of brush, both partially hidden by overhanging bushes. But if someone stood on the ridge and looked straight down they would be able to see us for sure. Unless they were blind.
Blood rushed in my ear while the crunching slowly grew louder and closer. I watched Bucky's eyes, staring up at the ridge, his hand still resting on my face though less aggressively.
The crunching stopped. The silence was deafening.
Bucky grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me in a roll with him under the brush beside us. A split second later gunshots rained down from the ridge, blasting into the ground beside us, splattering muddy water and dirt and ice all over.
He rolled to his feet, hauling me with him. The moment I was on my feet he shoved me ahead and I almost fell but managed to stay standing, he didn't have to tell me to run.
My legs and feet were numb with the cold and I had a hard time getting them to cooperate with me. My left foot kept going out from under me like it wasn't mine. Bucky steadied me, then pulled me along by the back of my shirt until I got my bearings and could run on my own.
We ran for only a short time before Bucky stopped in the shade of a tree and looked back warily.
"What are you doing, come on!" I gasped, stumbling to a stop a few feet away.
He shook his head sharply. "Ssh."
The gunshots had stayed behind us, never attempting to follow even through the brush when we'd first rolled away. The forest was silent, with no sign of pursuit. But if they'd been so close behind us before, why hadn't they caught up yet?
I moved to stand beside Bucky, almost leaning against him from the mixture of my numb, wobbly left foot and the warmth radiating from him. "Why aren't they following us?"
"They are." He hissed through clenched teeth. "They're following us but not attacking. Why?"
I shook my head helplessly. "Maybe waiting for the right time?"
Bucky made a deep sound in his throat, almost like a growl. "They're herding us. They're leading us somewhere."
My stomach clenched and I swallowed hard. "Where?"
He shook his head. "I don't know."
"What do we do?"
"Go somewhere else."
He marched to our left, almost disappearing into the shadows of the trees after only a few steps. Startled, I hurried to follow him.
"We have to go back. Towards the house. They won't expect that."
"The house isn't there anymore." I mumbled.
His stride faltered for a moment, and he stopped. I almost ran into his back.
"Sorry." He mumbled, then continued walking.
If it was possible, I was even more nervous now than before. If Hydra had really been following us, stalking like a predator while they herded us towards...something...what would they do when we veered off course?
It was truly night now, even darker than the night before. If Bucky got too far ahead of me I could find him again only by the steady crunching of the frozen ground beneath his boots. My left ankle was driving me nuts, numb and weak, making me stumble, only making it clearer how clumsy I was in comparison to Bucky.
After the fifth time I stumbled and grabbed Bucky's shirt for stability, he stopped and looked back at me.
"Are you okay?"
I smiled in the icy darkness even though he probably couldn't see it. "Yeah. My feet are just numb, from the cold probably, and my ankle's a little weak. I probably twisted it when we fell, or something."
"Does it hurt?"
"A little, not much."
"Sit."
"Bucky..."
"Thalia."
I sighed and sat down reluctantly in the leaves on the ground.
He crouched down in front of me, leaning forward slightly. "Which leg?"
I moved to stick out my left leg.
"Do you have your phone with you?"
"Are you seriously asking me that question right now?"
He grunted. "Nothing we can use for light, then?"
"Not unless you want to set my coat on fire. Don't know where we'd get the fire though."
Another grunt. He rested his hand on my left calf and slid his hand carefully down to my ankle. Numb as it was I could feel his hand gently feeling the bone, moving down a little and checking again. It was almost relaxing until he moved from my ankle to my foot, squeezed a little, and it felt like the whole thing burst into flames.
I jumped, gasping, and he pulled his hand away immediately.
"That hurt?"
"Yeah..." I groaned, biting my lower lip, shifting where I sat, trying to wait out the pain. It was fading, but way too slowly.
"What did it feel like?"
"Like my foot was struck by lighting." I blew air out slowly. "It's going away a little, it just kind of burns now...ugh...feels like my whole foot's on fire."
He made a soft sound, looking back at my foot. In the dark I couldn't tell what was so interesting, I could barely even see my own foot to begin with.
"What?"
"You think you could get your shoe off?"
I was wearing simple, light sneakers. Nothing fancy, just my 'running to the store' shoes. Not exactly built for running through the woods. "Yeah, no problem."
I untied the laces and moved to tug the shoe from my foot. When I pulled, the lightning struck again and I froze, gritting my teeth against the fire.
Bucky pulled my hands from my shoe and nudged me backwards until I was leaning back on my elbows. Then suddenly he slipped his arms under my legs and back, lifting me carefully.
"Bucky, what are you-"
"We need somewhere more sheltered."
I was so tired, and with my foot sending angry flares of pain up my leg, I decided it was fine for him to carry me.
He walked for a while, then we came upon a shallow dirt gully beside the trail we were using. There were several large trees growing at the edge of it, allowing their roots to jut out into the gully. Brush grew close to the trees and sheltered portions of the roots, forming the perfect little bolt hole for us.
Once we were under shelter he sat me down against the dirt wall of the gully and pulled my shoe off in one quick motion that stabbed pain through my foot like a knife.
Once the shoe was off he held my foot gently by the toes with his right hand, leaning over my leg, apparently checking it again as much as he could in the dark. He moved it side to side and while the movement didn't bring back the stabbing pain, it made my foot burn again and made me shift uncomfortably in my spot.
"You've been shot." He said, cold and clinical, "Top of the foot, right in front of your ankle. Explains why you can't walk well. I can't tell if the bullet is still in or if it went clean through. You're still bleeding though, so we should wrap it up."
My head spun at his words. How could I have been shot and not noticed it? "O-oh...okay...wrap it with what though?"
Before I even finished the question, I heard fabric tearing. Bucky ripped the bottom edge of his shirt clean off, and quickly began wrapping it tightly around my foot.
I closed my mouth, not bothering to protest.
With the 'bandage' wrapped tightly, the burning ebbed away and I carefully put my shoe back on.
"Why doesn't it hurt more?" I wondered out loud.
"The shock, probably. And the cold. It'll hurt while it heals, probably."
"Comforting."
We crawled back out of the roots that had been sheltering us, and once Bucky was convinced I could walk well enough on my injured foot we set off again.
In the movies and on TV, being shot is always a major experience either causing instant death or major hindrance to the victim. What Hollywood doesn't tell you is how surreal it is, knowing you've been shot, or how you could have run for your life and walked for hours and all that, without ever realizing you'd been hit by any bullets at all. And they don't tell you that when it does hurt it burns something awful, and gets that achy sort of itch like healing sunburn.
I forced myself to keep the limp out of my walk, so Hydra wouldn't know I was injured if they didn't know already. I expected they were watching us. They probably had seen us stop to take care of my foot, probably knew exactly the extent of my injury. For all I knew they had bullets that sent them a mission report after they hit something. Or photos.
Bucky stopped suddenly and I, lost in dark thoughts of Hydra tech, almost ran into him yet again.
He was tense, standing totally still, watching something off to our right.
A stick, jabbed into the ground near the trail, with a neon pink piece of tape wrapped around the end.
I blinked. "I know where we are."
Bucky relaxed a tiny bit, half-turning to look at me.
"There's a river near here. We, my family and I, we sometimes take the canoes down the river and camp near here, this is one of our trail markers. We just took the super long way around!" I smiled, unreasonably excited to recognize the area once again.
Bucky seemed less impressed, simply grunting before walking forward again.
We went on for a few more hours, not bothered by the Hydra agents we now knew were stalking us. We didn't talk much, so I spent a large amount of our traveling time simply wondering. Among my most disturbing thoughts was that Hydra was, in this entire ordeal, acting the pursuit predator. Maybe they weren't leading us at all, just keeping us afraid and on edge and moving until we collapsed from exhaustion, only to swarm over us like ants when we were too weak to even lift our own heads, much less fight back.
I shivered and tried to put that thought out of my head.
It was clear that Bucky was used to this sort of thing, or at least more used to it than I was. We hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning, and had gotten only the barest amount of rest. We'd been shot at and nearly frozen, and rapidly alternated between bored, sleepy muscle memory and mind-searing terror. And through it all, it seemed like Bucky's body hardly noticed.
Mine noticed. Mine noticed a lot. I tried to ignore the aches and pains, forced myself not to limp, grit my teeth against the pounding headache I was developing. But when my eyes started dropping closed and I started to fall asleep while I was walking, I had to acknowledge it.
I grabbed feebly at Bucky's flesh arm, and he stopped to turn and look back at me. He'd withdrawn in on himself again, his movements stiff, his voice cold. "You all right?"
I felt like I was underwater, or floating in space. Sounds seemed far away, the forest wavered in front of my exhausted eyes. "I need to stop." I slurred, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.
I couldn't keep my eyes focused on Bucky. His shape kept melting into the rest of the darkness around us. If I kept still my eyes fell closed again and I wavered drunkenly, so I shifted my weight from foot to foot and kept looking around, taking deep breaths of the cold air. My left ankle was numb again, too cold to feel pain, almost too injured to support my weight.
Bucky grunted softly, grabbing my left wrist with his right. "Right. C'mon."
He led me ahead to a stand of brush, shoved me in among the tangled branches.
"I'll be back." He mumbled, then disappeared into the forest like he'd never been there at all.
I must have slept, sitting on the cold ground, leaning against the bush, because it seemed like only seconds later that he returned, pulling me to my feet.
"I found a better shelter. It's not far from here."
I couldn't get my feet under me. My head was pounding and I groaned, resisting his attempts to stand me up. I didn't want to fight myself anymore, didn't want to force myself to stand. I just wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep and that's what my body was determined to do.
Bucky didn't snap at me, didn't grumble. He calmly slung me over his shoulder, where I went obediently limp, and he marched through the forest for a short time.
He brought me to a large tree. It looked like the massive tree had been using its roots to walk, and had gotten tired with half of the roots on top of a huge boulder. There was an open space beneath the roots, between the base of the tree and the boulder. The side we approached on was open but the other side of the space was netted with roots, almost like a chain-link fence, forming a three-walled little shelter with more tightly woven roots for a roof.
Bucky sat me on the dirt inside the sheltered space and shoved me over until there was room for him to sit in the entrance of the little space. There was just barely room for the two of us, but at least the closeness kept us warm.
It was good enough for me, and I fell asleep almost instantly.
When I woke up it was still dark, although it was getting a little lighter. I could see silhouettes now instead of total darkness. A heavy mist hung in the air, making me feel damp and cold.
My head felt a little better, and my mind was clearer. Clear enough to realize that Bucky wasn't beside me anymore, and that made me colder.
I was leaning against the boulder, my neck and back stiff from the uncomfortable position, listening for any noise at all. Everything was quiet. Not just quiet, silent. Silent enough to give me goosebumps. There was no wind, no crickets, not a single reassuring sound of life from anyone or anything. My heart started pounding.
"You're awake."
I jumped, bumping my head on the boulder and turning to face Bucky at the entrance of the tiny shelter.
"Ugh, you gave me a heart attack." I sighed, rubbing my head where I'd hit it.
"Come on, let's go."
He turned and was walking away before I even crawled out of the shelter.
I stood up once I got out, stretching what I could. My left ankle was stiff, my foot achy, but it still supported me when I started following Bucky shakily. The cold hadn't let up even in the absence of wind. The ground crunched under our feet and ice clung to the ground and the trees. I crossed my arms tightly and tried not to shiver too much.
With the darkness letting up the slightest bit, I busied myself with looking for familiar landmarks to get my bearings. The mist made that a difficult task, but eventually I recognized enough to be fairly confident I knew where we were. My most important landmark, the river, was still yet to be seen, and I wasn't sure which way to go to get to it. If we could get to the river, I thought, we could follow it back to the road and to the town.
I yawned and glanced up at a pile of rocks as we passed. I could remember playing on that same rock formation when my sisters and I were younger.
Of course it was much bigger back then...
I turned to look back at it one last time while we walked. Out of the corner of my eye something moved, and my heart turned to ice.
I walked a little faster, until I was nearly pressed against Bucky's back.
"Bucky-"
"I know. Keep going."
I stayed close to Bucky and he just kept walking faster until we were nearly running. A bullet whizzed over our heads and then we really were running.
My injured foot wasn't helpful, nearly tripping me, slowing me down far more than even the tiredness in my muscles did. Angry at myself for being injured and angry at Hydra for following us, I pushed myself to keep running. But the agents were crashing through the forest behind me, too close.
Suddenly Bucky was at my side again, his metal arm was around my waist, and then he was carrying me, putting distance between us and the Hydra agents until we couldn't hear them running anymore.
I shouldn't have allowed myself to feel hopeful with that development.
A deep thumping began to rise over the sounds of my own heart, Bucky's feet on the ground, and our heavy breathing. The sound rose over everything like a massive heartbeat. In Bucky's arms I looked up at the sky and spotted the dark shape of a helicopter swooping over the forest.
"The river." I told Bucky, trying to keep the fear out of my voice, "If we can get to the river we can follow it to town."
"You know where the river is?"
"I could find it."
"Good."
Bucky stopped suddenly, letting momentum carry me out of his arms, then settling me on the ground beside him. I wobbled on my feet, adrenaline and weakness making me unsteady, then looked up questioningly to his face.
"Go." He said, his voice icily calm, "get to the river, get to town. I'm going to stop this."
We'd stopped in a small clearing. I could hear the Hydra agents getting closer, abandoning all attempts at stealth, yelling to one another as they ran. They were so close.
"What do you mean?"
"Go." Bucky said, gesturing to the woods on the other side of the clearing.
"Are you coming?"
"No, get out of here, you need to get away."
"Bucky-"
I expected him to argue, to get angry. I never expected him to throw me. But he did, grabbing my arms and tossing me across the little clearing. I hit the ground right shoulder first and rolled under some thorn bushes.
Before I could get up or roll away, Hydra agents swooped into the clearing, surrounding Bucky but leaving me out of the loop. They cut off all routes of escape, guns at the ready.
In moving away from the agents nearest him Bucky moved himself into the center of the circle. He held up both hands in a surrendering motion.
My heart was racing faster now than ever before as I put all my effort into staying still and quiet, eyes wide and riveted on what was going on.
I realized then that Bucky had lost the larger rifle at some point during the night, probably when we'd fallen down the hill and landed in the mud. I had no idea if he still had the smaller gun. I was suddenly very aware of mine still tucked in my pants waistband.
The helicopter passed overhead, shaking the ground, but didn't seem about to land, merely swooped over and continued circling. I used the cover of the downdraft of the blades and the heavy pounding of the rotation to roll onto my arms and knees and crawl up the gentle incline away from the circle.
A man began to speak, his voice sickeningly familiar. I stopped climbing and looked back. From here I had a good view over the clearing. Moving slowly I could get higher up the hill and see ever better.
Mr. Friendly stepped out from the ring of men, not daring to get too close to Bucky, and crossed his arms.
"Well, you took us on quite a little chase, didn't you?" He sounded like he was speaking to an errant child.
Bucky didn't respond but lowered his arms just a bit.
"I have to say, I thought we'd have to use something with real stopping power to finish this. I'm glad you saw sense."
Bucky's arms lowered a little more.
"And where's that lady friend of yours? I understand she was hurt? Guess you left her behind, right? Smart move. Nothing but deadweight."
He dropped his arms to his sides and his shirt moved. The ripped edge moved a bit to reveal the tiniest flash of metal at his side. It might have been his arm...but...
"Sir he's got a gun." I heard an agent report, voice tight. The raised guns in the group shifted like their owners were preparing to fire.
Mr. Friendly laughed. "I'm not surprised. Go ahead, take it out. Let's see what little toy you found."
Bucky slowly pulled the handgun from his waistband, holding it in his left hand, ready to use it, but letting it hang at his side.
"Now you're smart, right? They programmed some sense in there somewhere, I know. You can't take all of us with that tiny thing. Do you even have any bullets left? So you can come quiet or you can get off one or two more shots before we take you down. What's it going to be?"
My stomach clenched. It was true, Bucky wouldn't be able to do much, if any damage to the group of men with his little handgun, not while they had machine guns and rifles. He had no options. Or did he?
"If they catch you, don't let them...don't let them take you, okay?"
I remembered the promise he'd demanded of me the night before. I would've been a fool to think he wouldn't have made that same promise to himself. He wouldn't let Hydra take him.
His hand tightened on the gun and he slowly began to raise it, almost hesitantly.
He wouldn't be able to take on the whole group. But he might be able to get off just one shot.
He lifted the gun higher.
I never made a decision, never planned anything. I got to my feet in one smooth motion and pulled the gun from my waistband, aiming at the group down below me.
I knew Bucky could escape if he had the chance, if he just had an opening. I had to give him that opening. I might have been deadweight all along, but just this moment, I would give something back.
Aiming at no one I shot at the crowd, the pistol's shots snapping into the cold air. The men shouted and jumped back, looking for where the shots came from.
I crouched so I was somewhat hidden in the brush and kept firing until the gun had nothing left. I saw a flash of metal from Bucky's arm and men yelling while he took advantage of the opening, using their lapse in concentration. I heard footsteps charging up the hill. I sprang to my feet and tore into the forest.
I shouldn't have been able to run at all, not with my foot shot, my body spent. But I did. Somehow I did. I forced every last bit of energy I could muster into my legs, all my concentration filtering to keeping myself moving despite the aching cold in my limbs, the slippery ground, the twigs slapping into my face, thorny brush tugging at my pants. I heard the men behind me and it kept me running.
Cresting the hill I slipped on a patch of ice and fell, rolling down and ending in a bush, on my back, beside a tree, not sure which way was up.
I recovered quickly enough to hear the men coming down the hill behind me, stumbling on the ice but not falling.
"Where'd she go?" One snapped, standing on the slope.
"Down 'ere somewhere." Another answered, kicking at a bush that was too close to mine for comfort.
"She fell," A third growled, "I saw 'er land. One of these bushes."
The three men began hunting through the brush, kicking at them, spitting curses when I wasn't there.
The noise of fighting on the other side of the hill was enough to hide me rolling over onto my belly so I could get my feet under me. Enough to hide the sound, at least.
"Hey I think I saw her, over here!" The youngest-sounding of the three said, coming towards me.
He reached my hiding spot and hesitated before he poked the nose of his gun in first, probably intending to spread the branches open with it or something. He didn't get that far.
Impulsively I grabbed the muzzle and shoved the gun back at him with all the strength I could muster. He was looking through the scope to see and struck him in his eye, hard. He stumbled backwards with a curse. I scrabbled to my feet and ran, bullets from the other two agents peppering the dirt behind me while I half-fell down the hill.
I recovered and ran more normally once I reached the lower ground, weaving between trees, mind and heart racing. Now what? I wouldn't be able to run forever, not even close. I was already slowing, running low on even my reserve energy. I had to lose them and get away and get back to Bucky. But they were so close I couldn't imagine how I could lose them now.
Then I passed an old picnic table, the one we used to use when we camped out here, before Dad built us a new one. The old one was one of my mental landmarks of the area. I suddenly had my bearings again, and I had an idea.
I swerved suddenly to the right, heard the agents follow. My legs and back burned and I pleaded with my body to hold out just a little longer.
The only thing stopping them from shooting me now was most definitely my swerving and weaving, but I was losing energy fast. I decided to take a risk and started running straight for my target, forgoing the safety of my erratic run. Bullets landed in the dirt behind me and splintered bark off the trees I dashed behind.
They were practically stepping on my heels now. I was slowing, I couldn't force myself any faster.
The trees ended abruptly and the agents chasing me stumbled to a stop, startled by what they saw ahead.
I didn't stop, didn't slow, just kept running until there was no ground beneath me, until I was falling.
I ran right off the cliff, closing my eyes, smiling.
