Warning: Graphically inaccurate and vague descriptions of first aid/wound care.
Natalia programs the jet to fly southwest to Scotland. It sounds like a good idea, though she can't say why. Then she goes back to the S—Bucky and tries to plug the weeping holes. The jet's equipped with a lot of first aid supplies, but it doesn't have everything she needs. Blood, for one thing.
So Natalia must do her best to fix this without making him worse. Kneeling in his blood, she cuts away his clothes. Six holes. There were more shots, but she figures he got his metal arm up in time to block them. The blood gurgles out of his navel. The back of his right arm is painted in so much red. She's grateful that none of the shots are too high on his chest. The flesh from his left clavicle to his lower-middle ribs on the right side is clear of any holes. Probably internal injuries, though. She hopes his stomach hasn't been perforated. Or his intestines.
Natalia bites her lip. Not good. But there's a chance both his lungs and heart weren't hit — but what the fuck does she know? She's not trained for this.
The holes on his arm and the back of his left leg are easy to deal with. Nothing too bad. She doesn't even have to think about a tourniquet.
She stops a lot of his bleeding. He doesn't make a sound. Not even when she throws her entire body weight on top of him, pressing down as hard as she can. It makes even more red seep out of him, like a bloody sponge. Natalia hopes his silence is a product of "Sputnik" and not of all the red.
He needs blood. Natalia doesn't know his blood type, doesn't know if it matters for someone like him. She's type O. If it was desperate — . . . There's all the supplies needed for a transfusion, but he needs more than she can give. Natalia's no doctor, but she can see that it's true. Even if she gave him everything she could, it would leave her weak. It would leave both of them defenseless. There won't be enough time for either of them to recover before someone else is attacking them.
The jet's almost to their destination before Natalia gets the Soldier (she has to stop thinking of him like that) to stop bleeding. It looks like it has rained coagulation factor packets around them. She doesn't know if or (more likely) when he'll go into shock. She starts an IV for him. Maybe fluids will stave off the inevitable.
She plans.
She fumbles for that stupid phone she'd bought before she went into the other spider's apartment. She searches until she finds something suitable. Natalia finds suitable in the form of one Mitali Suma. It will require her to leave the Soldier. She doesn't want to leave him. For so many reasons. He could die if she leaves him. He could die if she doesn't. Natalia weighs the chances and then steers the jet downward.
She sets the jet down in a pathetic copse of trees. Sets up security. If motion is detected within a two-mile (fucking Imperial system) radius, Natalia will be alerted. She sets a bug and a com device on the ground next to the—Bucky. Pairs the crude monitors that she's attached to him to the phone. If he wakes, she'll hear it. If he does anything, she'll hear it. Natalia scrawls a note describing everything, but she doubts that he'll be in any mind to read it, if he wakes up at all.
Everything is done in a hurry. She has to get away so that she can come back. Natalia empties the backpack, slings it on her back, and makes a run for it. As soon as she sees signs of life, she steals a car and drives to a blood bank. She steals several units of blood and doesn't feel bad about it. Not one bit. Natalia grabs a few more odds and ends just to be safe. In a different town, she steals more crap from a hospital.
Then she drives into the town of Erskine, to the house of Mitali Suma. The jet had some shitty Smith & Wesson pistols on board. Natalia draws one out and enters the house. It's relatively big. She settles in the kitchen with the pistol on the counter. She sits next to the gun and lets her feet dangle downward. Impatience eats at her. Her eyes rove around the house but her mind is focused entirely on the com device in her ear and the phone in her pocket, anticipating alerts.
After six long, long minutes, Natalia hears a sound via the com device. It sounds like shifting. Then a low moan. Like that of a dying animal. A horse whose leg's been broken. It's the Sol—Bucky. Her heart beats hard. She listens to him shifting and trying to speak. Something gurgles in his throat.
"…eve?" she hears over the link. Another low moan. He says it again a little bit louder. A little bit more desperately. "—eve!"
Natalia listens to the broken man try to cry. Her legs itch to jump to action. It will all be for naught if she leaves now, though. Stay the course. She must stay the course.
Just then, lights pass through the curtains. Finally, the woman is home. Natalia picks up the Smith & Wesson and slides to her feet. Mitali Suma enters half a minute later. When the light flicks on, she gasps.
"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"
Mitali Suma is shorter than Natalia. She's wider. Her hair is black and thick. She's a very beautiful woman, in an earthy sort of way. A natural sort of way. The kind that is looked over and seldom celebrated. Like clear fields of green grass. Like undisturbed snow.
Natalia levels the pistol at Suma. "You're coming with me."
"Please put the gun down! My children—"
"You have no children."
Suma snaps her mouth closed. Looks annoyed. Then her eyes lighten. "Natasha."
"Hello, Dr. Suma."
They step towards one another. Natalia covers a larger distance and embraces little Mitali Suma hard. Breathes her antiseptic smell in.
"What do you want from me?" Suma says.
On the com in her ear, Natalia hears the Sol—Bucky mutter deliriously, "Steve. Fuck. . . . —eve, please."
Natalia squeezes the grip of the pistol hard. "My friend needs your help."
Mitali Suma eyes Natalia hard. Something unreadable about her. "What's wrong with your friend? How did you find me?"
"He's been shot." She ignores the other question.
Suma is beautiful like a flood.
Natalia looks this force of nature in the eye and says with as much earnestness as she can while still maintaining control of the situation, "You're the best trauma surgeon I know. And you owe me one."
"Don't flatter me while pointing a gun at my face," Suma says. "Take me to your friend."
This isn't what she expects. But she goes with it. Tells the doctor to bring anything she can — they won't be going to a hospital. As they head to the car, Natalia notices a shadow shift in the backyard. She spends some time shaking their possible tail before she drives back toward the jet. Suma doesn't say anything. Not about the situation and not about the bag of stolen blood in the backseat. She doesn't say anything when they walk into the woods or when they enter a jet that has only ever been used for military purposes.
Suma does say something when she sees the—Bucky lying naked on the floor of the jet. Says something about his metal arm. She says, "Combat vet, I take it."
Natalia says, "Something like that."
The Soldier—Bucky had gone quiet before they left Suma's house. He's quiet and white and cold again when they come back.
"He needs a hospital," Suma says.
"No," says Natalia.
"There are four bullet holes in his torso. He needs a hospital."
"I said no." They stare hard at each other. Natalia lifts the Smith & Wesson and grounds out between her teeth, "Help him."
Suma shakes her head and turns toward the—Bucky. "When he dies, it's because of you."
Together they get him up off the floor and onto a sort of table that emerges from the side of the jet. Suma takes out her tools; Natalia leaves the bag of stolen blood and filched supplies near her. The doctor works, and Natalia sits in the pilot's seat, staring out the window. The security sensors sweep for intruders.
After too many hours, Suma comes up behind her seat and says, "You should bring him to a hospital."
Natalia shakes her head and stares out the window. "Can't."
"Why not?" She sounds ready to slap Natalia.
"They'll find him."
"He needs a hospital. I did the best I could for him."
Natalia shakes her head. "Are all the bullets out?"
"Yes. But he has internal damage. I dealt with those organs as best I could, but he needs a proper place to recover. He needs to be observed."
"I'll observe him."
"He needs a doctor. And I'm not staying here."
Natalia looks at the doctor. "Then leave. Tell anyone about us and I'll be back. I won't be as kind as I was today." Especially if he dies.
Suma sighs exasperatedly. "Bring him to my house."
"What?"
"Bring him to my house. It's better than this."
Natalia can't see how that's true. "Your house isn't secure. Not safe."
"This place isn't safe for him either."
"It has first aid supplies. Did you give him oxygen?"
"Yes. His lungs are struggling. He'll need more blood than what you took."
"Then I'll give him some of mine."
"Do you really believe—"
"It's just a couple of gunshot wounds," Natalia says over Suma. Harsh. Natalia doesn't add that the Soldier has clearly had worse. "Thank you for what you've done. He'll be fine."
"And what will you do if he starts to hemorrhage internally?"
"I'll deal with it."
"This is ridiculous. You will kill him doing this. Come to mine."
"Is your house a hospital?" she says. "Then it's no better than here. And here is secure."
Suma stares hard at her. Looks furious. "Let me out."
Natalia does. Gives her the key to the car she stole. Threatens her. Suma leaves. Natalia locks up the jet once she makes it back inside.
Suma had covered Bucky with a blanket. Natalia knows that it's bad if he starts shivering. There are a lot of fluids hanging above him. She sees that one is an antibiotic and another is a painkiller. She snorts; how quickly will his metabolism blow through that? Some of the stolen blood is still dripping into him. There's a mask over his face providing oxygen. She doesn't check how much is left in the tank.
Natalia sits on a seat across from the table he's lying on. She stares and tries as hard as she can not to think. Hours could have passed. Maybe only minutes. There was no way of knowing.
Indeterminable amount of time later: The Soldier shifts, and her head snaps up. She gets to her feet and steps to his side. Touches his hair. His head falls into the touch. Brows draw down.
"—eve?" he says. Sounds like it comes out over sandpaper. The mask muffles it.
"Yasha?" she breathes. She corrects herself: "Bucky?"
"Steve?" he croaks.
An internal part of Natalia prickles and grounds its teeth together. It doesn't like this. Bucky is wrong. A part of Natalia doesn't like Bucky.
Why is he asking for Steve? Who is Steve? A handler? Some monster that buried a sense of Stockholm syndrome so deep into the Soldier's bones that the poor man asked from him even while in the depths of delirium?
"Who's Steve?" she says. Her fingers card through his hair just once.
His face contracts like he's annoyed by the question. "He's — Steve's my CO."
She's never heard of a handler that was referred to as a CO. She says, "Is Steve good to you, Yasha? Did he make your body not listen? Did he put things in you?"
The So—Bucky doesn't like the question. His eyes close hard and he grimaces. But he doesn't try to leave from under her hand. She runs her fingers through his hair again to make up from the distress the question caused.
"I want to talk to Steve," he whines.
"Steve's not here."
All the tension leaves his body. Eyelids flutter but don't open. "Must be pretty bad."
"What?"
"Must be bad . . . if you're not lettin' Steve in to see me."
"Yasha, where — What do you think happened?"
His breath hitches. He squirms. She wants to tell him not to move or he'll upset the delicate threads holding his insides together.
"Guys'll never let me forget it," he says. The mask shifts and he makes a face that says he really wants to rip it off.
"Forget what?"
"Fallin' off the side of a damn train and down a fuckin' mountain."
"Yasha, you were shot."
Contraction again. He makes a strange sound. Stroking his hair doesn't calm him this time.
"When's Steve coming? Can you get Steve?"
Petrenko told her that they'd never had to use "Sputnik" in the field. They were very proud. Natalia doesn't think this was supposed to be the result. It could be the drugs. It could be the blood loss. But she doesn't think so. The trigger did something the Soldier's handlers hadn't intended.
Natalia's brain jumps and she makes a connection. Could Steve be the frozen man? She doesn't remember what the television had said back in Sweden, but Steve sounds like the right name. The Soldier—Bucky knew Steve, the frozen man. "Sputnik" shut down the Soldier, but could it have perhaps also reset him? At the very least, did it upset the programming? Cause a glitch?
It sounds like too far of a reach. There's blood loss, drugs, and so much else — it's impossible to tell.
"Can you get Steve?" he says again.
"He's not here." Her nails brush against his scalp.
"When's he coming back?" He sounds distressed. "He's not mad at me, is he?"
"No, Yasha, he's not upset with you." Natalia's head spins, planning. "Hush, now. Rest. I'll go get Steve for you if you sleep now."
Natalia thinks it's time to go see Oskar Rainer again.
Bee-deep, says an alarm.
Intruder.
Note:
I'm leaving it up to the reader to decide if this version of BuckyNat is platonic or (potentially) romantic. Hurrah for ambiguity!