Bucky Barnes

Nat and I followed the blood trail, silently. The flickering lights in the hallways were enough to get us through, so we'd ditched our night vision gear. A small smear of blood stained the bottom of a wall to my right.

Beyond that, a bloody handprint stained a door.

"Nat," I breathed, quickening my pace towards the door, Natasha hot on my heels, silent as ever.

I nodded to her once before throwing open the door, sweeping my gun around the dim closet once before lowering the weapon. A small puddle of blood stained the floor, smeared against the wall and the tiles like someone had been lying there.

"He escaped," Nat breathed, looking hopefully down the hallway. "He got away from them. He could still be wandering the base; it's fresh."

I'd barely waited for her to finish before I was up and moving down the hall, gun at the ready. We followed the blood smears that seemed to be everywhere—the thought made my stomach turn—and as they started growing fresher, we stopped dead in our tracks.

A thump and an unmistakable cry of pain reached my ears, and I was running.

A voice drifted through the hall, angry and loud, and slurred, like they were drunk or concussed. One more turn, and finally, I reached the voice.

Peter.

Peter was there. And alive.

And on the floor with that bastard Jason standing over him, pistol ready.

He shot me a look and grinned.

"No!" I shouted, surging forward, gun up and ready to spray a stream of bullets—

Bang.

I heard a single shot. I whipped around to see Natasha standing, her gun up and still in position, her eyes absolutely merciless.

I turned back to Jason, who was staring down at his chest. "Oh," he said feebly, pawing at the growing bloodstain over his heart. The gun slipped from his fingers and he stumbled forward two steps, before finally his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed forward.

On top of Peter.

"Shit," I breathed, sprinting to his side and heaving the dying psychopath off of Peter, whose eyes were closed.

My heart dropped.

The kid was an absolute wreck. His chest was bloody and mutilated, and he had a nasty headwound still pouring blood. Dried blood crusted his nostrils and his lips, and the open wound on his arm would have made me gag if I hadn't been so hardened to gore.

Fumbling for his jawline, I checked his pulse. It was weak and fluttering, but it was even. "He's okay for now," I said to Natasha, who was keeping a lookout with her gun raised, gentle, worried eyes on Peter's face.

"Let's get him out of here," she said quietly, not quite looking at me.

As gently as I could, I slipped my left hand under the back of his neck, lifting his torso up to lean against me, and slid my other hand under his knees. Mentally counting to three, I hefted him up.

I stumbled back, overestimating his weight. The nausea increased when I thought of how much weight he'd lost, and how much of the missing weight was blood loss.

Peter's eyes fluttered.

"Peter?" I said quietly, following Natasha as she led us back towards the others. The building gave a particularly violent shiver, and I tightened my grip on him. "Kid, come on; open your eyes for me, okay?"

Slowly, his eyes opened.

"Buc-cky?" He stuttered, suddenly shivering. I subconsciously knew that my metal arm probably wasn't helping any, but I didn't want to stop and waste time giving him my jacket.

I smiled, relief slumping my shoulders for the first time since Thaddeus effing Ross had shown up. "Hey, kid. I've gotcha. You're okay."

His eyebrows furrowed. His tired, half-lidded eyes searched my face, then tried to roam around, but it seems like he was too tired to even move his head. "N-never…t-t-talked be-before…"

"Hm?" I asked, skidding around a turn as Natasha whipped around to avoid falling debris from the ceiling. I tried to maintain a calm façade for Peter's sake, but the building was coming down fast. We had to get out. Nat and I locked eyes, and she nodded, eyes lingering on Peter's face for just a second before she started leading us down a detour to avoid the damaged areas of the building.

Nat pulled up a map of the Compound on her visor, quickly scouting an entrance manageable for us. She radioed the others and found out that it was tunneled and caved in, but that they'd work on getting it cleared while we made our way there. I heard Steve's sigh of relief and hasty affirmative over the line, but my attention whipped back to Peter at the sound of his feeble voice.

"Wh-when y-you…were w-with m-m-me…y-you di-didn't t-talk…" he stammered, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "N-not…real…"

I almost stopped dead in my tracks, but muscle memory kept me going.

He'd hallucinated at some point. He'd hallucinated me.

God, I hoped it wasn't bad. I prayed to God I hadn't hurt him. I'd had those hallucinations, those nightmares, and they were horrible. Of people you loved and cared about and trusted to protect you hurting you—

Not now. Not now.

"I'm real," I reassured, but my voice was shaking. "I'm real, Peter, I promise. I'm holding you. I'm talking to you. These are my hands, grounding you to right now. Remember the first time I said that?" I asked, thinking bringing up a memory we shared would help him. "Remember? I'm with you, kid."

Understanding slowly flickered through his eyes. He stared at me for a few moments, even as I carted him through the halls behind an ever-quickening Natasha, and finally, his eyes welled up.

"You f-found me," he said, his voice so broken, and so quiet, and so tired. His good arm slowly came up to latch onto my shirt, his shaking fist clenching the material as tightly as he could, which wasn't all that tight.

I smiled down at him, forcing down the lump in my throat as I swung around another corner, Natasha knocking out two stray HYDRA agents before I'd even completed the turn. "Of course I did. I'll always find you, Peter."

He stared at me for one more second before his shoulders slumped and his eyes slipped closed. His hand remained fisted in my shirt. I felt a traitorous tear roll down my cheek, but I didn't have the hands to wipe it away.

So it stayed, and was joined by more.

I'd never been so relieved in my entire life. The only feeling that came close was when Wakanda had finally managed to get those damn words out of my head. This feeling completely overwhelmed that one.

"Stop, Bucky," Natasha's steel voice cut straight through me, and I skidded to a halt, my arms instinctively tightening around Peter.

In front of us, the wall was completely caved in, debris and sparking electrical parts littering the hall, the roof caved in and the walls slumped to one side. It seemed like we'd found the site of the explosion—the steel beams that held the structural support for the base were spiderwebbed and shivering, threatening to collapse at literally any second.

But that's not what interested me.

What interested me—and I'm sure Nat—was the Secretary of Defense Thaddeus Ross kneeling by the pile, an arm around his torso, blood at his temple, looking too injured to do much of anything.

After a tense second of silence, Natasha stalked forward, looming over the wheezing man with nothing short of fury screaming from her entire posture.

I knew better than to interfere, no matter how much the site of the man made my blood boil.

Ross looked up slowly, eyes flicking to me, then to Peter, and finally, up to Natasha.

I'd never seen a man look quite so afraid.

Steve Rogers

Clint, Scott, Okoye, Sam, and I were on the Quinjet, waiting anxiously for any news. Stella paced around the jet, occasionally nuzzling Clint's hand. I hadn't wanted to bring the cat, but Thor looked so lost when I tried to tell him no that I'd given in almost immediately.

I'd more or less forbidden Scott or Clint from going back to the base. They had families that didn't sign up for this. No way was I letting that happen.

Sam was trying to stitch himself up while I held him down, but it wasn't going very well. He'd been flying just beside the explosion site when it'd happened, and had been knocked clean through a steel wall. He had a broken collarbone, a radial head fracture in his elbow, and a gash in his side that was looking like it would need a couple dozen stitches.

Having Bruce to stitch him up would've been nice, but he was currently playing baseball with Ironman. The ball happened to be whatever unfortunate HYDRA agent was closest.

Sam grunted in pain as the needle slipped from his bloody fingers. "Sorry, C-Cap," he wheezed, closing his eyes and thunking back against the cot. "I can d-do it on other people, but n-not on myself…"

"Why don't you just use Shuri's superglue?" Okoye suggested, sauntering up, spear in hand. She'd been instrumental in keeping us all on track during the mission, walking us through Wakanda's tech and running interference. She'd also managed to save the Quinjet from several bazookas.

"Superglue?" I asked questioningly, squeezing Sam's shoulder in reassurance as the man took labored breaths.

"It's medical, and completely safe, I assure you," she said, smirking. She rummaged through one of Shuri's "Man Down" kits, as she'd called them.

I wanted to call them Broken White Boy kits, she'd huffed, glancing at T'Challa, who'd pinched the bridge of his nose in absolute mortification. But brother informed me that that was not politically correct.

I'd had to give a laugh at that.

Okoye finally fished out the bottle of milky white gelatin, handing it to me. Stella leapt into her arms, having immediately taken to the warrior, and Okoye to her. Stella rested on her shoulders and meowed, nuzzling Okoye's shaved head.

"There, darling," she soothed, scratching the cat's ears. Turning back to me, she said, "It's designed to seal large wounds and prevent infection. It is a type of gelatin that partially hardens to keep the wound from moving, but will become gelatinous and easily removable with the solvent, which Shuri also equipped me with. It is also infused with a pain reliever, so it will not be painful to apply or remove."

At this, Sam raised his heavy head, raising a skeptical eyebrow and panting, "You're g-gonna…fix me with medical Jell-O?"

"You bet your ass we are," Clint said with a tired smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Language," I said reflexively, giving Sam a tepid glare when he smirked my way.

I applied the Jell-O to Sam's wound, skeptical but willing to try pretty much anything at this point, and watched in amazement as the substance hardened gently as it came into contact with the flesh. Sam's pinched face relaxed and his eyes slipped closed, his shoulders sagging in relief.

"I love this Jell-O," Sam breathed before falling completely unconscious.

I let my head hang low and gave a relieved chuckle, glad that Sam was stable for now. I ran a hand through my hair and pressed a finger to my ear. "Iron Man, status."

"Currently in a tender loving relationship," he replied sarcastically, a thunk echoing over the line as the Hulk hit what sounded like a home run.

Exasperation flickered across my thoughts, but I shoved it down. "My fault. Should've known better. Rhodes, status."

"Looking good," Rhodey answered, grunting in exertion. "HYDRA agents are almost down. I think the Big Guy's having too much fun, but that's purely my own conjecture. Is Sam okay?"

"He's okay," I said with a smile towards Okoye, who nodded with a light smirk. "You can thank Wakanda for that."

"Thank you, Wakanda," Tony said, and I heard T'Challa sigh over the line.

I was about to chastise him when Nat's voice crackled over the comm, detached and rushed. "We've got Peter."

Chatter instantly died. Clint shot to his feet, Scott's head snapping up expectantly. "Is he okay?" I asked, not knowing if I wanted the answer.

"He's in bad shape," Natasha admitted, sounding preoccupied. "We've got him, though, and he'll be okay until we can get him help. Our side of the building is caved in; I need you to clear a path for us by the Quinjet. I'm sending you the specs now."

No sooner had the words left her lips than the base's diagram popped up on my visor, a tiny section of the wall highlighted in red. "Copy," I said, springing to my feet. "En route now. Scott, Clint, Okoye, take care of Sam, okay?"

Clint nodded tersely while Scott's head bobbed, and Okoye watched passively, comforting Stella.

"Thor, Rhodes, Tony, T'Challa, I'm sending you Nat's specs now. Meet me as soon as you can. ASAP, people, double time it; we're getting our kid home."

There was no more chatter, no more banter. I leapt from the Quinjet and took off sprinting to Nat's location, willing to tear down every brick in my way to get that kid back with us.

I just prayed we weren't too late.

Natasha Romanov

The gun was steady in my hand as I stood in front of the pathetic, kneeling man, blood dripping from his body. My unforgiving eyes stared straight into his. He stared back, and though his body was unflinching, his eyes were scared.

Because they knew that I would not show mercy.

Behind me, Bucky held Pyotr securely in his arms, his small, thin, bloody frame shivering, his sallow cheeks bright with fever. One arm—the arm with the infected, oozing, gruesome wound—hung limp behind Bucky, the other weakly clutching the material of the man's shirt. Bucky adjusted him gently, the man's eyes terrified, latched on to Pyotr like he would disappear any second. Pyotr's head rested against his collarbone, his breath coming in short gasps.

Fury boiled inside of me, setting every nerve, every tendon, every bone on absolute fire. Never in my life had I felt such anger.

The building shook, as if personifying my rage. Soon, it would come down around us.

But this was something that needed to be done.

I tightened my grip on the hilt of the gun, aiming it between his eyes. My face expressionless, my muscles relaxed, my body ready. I remembered Laura Barton's words and parroted them, because they were quite true. "You took the wrong boy, General."

General Ross scoffed, though it came as more like a wheeze. "It appears so." The man leaned forward, groaning, and straightened himself, though he couldn't stand. "I must say, I didn't expect you to be my ultimate killer, though I should have. I always knew you loved murder too much to retire."

Though his words were meant to draw a reaction, I didn't flinch. Not a single fiber of my being wavered. "Then you should have been more careful. Do you have any last words?"

The General glanced behind me at Pyotr's shivering form, his eyes flicking back to mine. A smile crept onto his face. "He'll never be the same. You've saved nothing but a broken body."

I gave him a cold half-smile. "You let us worry about that, Ross. You have bigger problems."

My finger tightened around the trigger.

But a feeble voice made me hesitate.

"Do…don't, T-Tash-sha…"

My body went rigid. My gun never wavered, but my eyes did. They locked onto Pyotr's little body, so small against Bucky's, and his half-lidded, pain-filled eyes, concentrated on mine.

Bucky's arms tightened. "Peter, save your strength, okay?"

And though it must have caused him agony, he shook his head, looking steadily at me. "N-no…mo-more death…not—not be-because of m-m-me…"

"Not because of you, Pyotr," I soothed, my eyes hardening as they landed back on the pathetic creature kneeling in front of me. "For me. For us. For the Avengers."

And I prepared to pull the trigger, but the sweet, stupid boy kept talking.

"I'm al…alive," Pyotr breathed, pain clouding his features, determination prominent in every nerve. "Noth…nothing t-to avenge."

And dammit. Dammit.

So young. So innocent. So damn good.

I turned to the man I had dreamed of killing for so many days. Looked into his eyes. Saw the evil, saw the fear. Saw the humanity.

Saw what Pyotr saw, for just a split second.

Nothing more than a man afraid of dying.

And though it shred me apart, shred every part of me, went against every single instinct ingrained into my body, slowly, surely, I lowered my gun.

Because Pyotr knew. Pyotr knew that I was an assassin at heart, and it was addicting, and I had been clean for so, so many years. I had put this cold, calculated, cruel type of killing behind me, traded it for the heat of battle, fighting for survival.

Pyotr knew that once I started, once I did it one more time, I wouldn't stop.

Or perhaps it was me that knew it.

The want, the animalistic need for blood, for power, were side effects of the Red Room training, and I had worked so hard to put them behind me. And it was so difficult. But I had done it. For Clint, for Laura and the kids, for myself, for the Avengers. Now, for Pyotr.

I couldn't let him watch me slip back into the cold-hearted killer I used to be.

And if that meant letting the bastard General live, then murder be damned.

I tucked the gun into the holster on my belt, my hand so tight it shook. I turned to Pyotr, who was giving me a small, tired, proud smile. Despite his pain, his exhaustion, he was proud that I hadn't killed the evil man in front of me.

And while a part of me was screaming, crying, begging to see the red drip from his forehead, another part of me was proud, too.

But Pyotr's forgiveness was not mine.

I glared at the man in front of me, who was staring at Pyotr in absolute shock. Anger boiled in me to see his eyes on Pyotr's vulnerable frame. "Eyes on me, bitch," I bit out, bloodlust leaking into my words. "I may not kill you, but I am not finished with you."

Ross' eyes slid to me, apprehensive.

"I'm going to drag your pitiful body before the whole of America and show them what kind of a General you are. I'm going to expose every secret you have. Every single crime you've ever committed. I don't care how long it takes me. I will ruin you. I will lock you away in some ungodly hole and I will come and show you what the people think of you. I will show you your crumbling empire if I have to tear it down one brick at a time." My cold eyes, merciless, deadly, locked onto his cowering features. "That will be my revenge." I glanced at Pyotr, a smile on my lips. Because a certain teenager has me wrapped around his finger.

Stalking towards him, I grabbed the General's arm, yanking him up. He hissed in pain, stumbling, and I nodded to Bucky. I put vibranium cuffs on the Ross's wrists, securing them behind him. As the building began to shake, Pyotr lost consciousness in Bucky's arms, his breathing labored, his body quivering.

Bucky and I took Ross and our boy to the Quinjet, winding through the crumbling halls as quickly as we could. When we reached a tunneled entrance near the direction of the Quinjet, we saw that the others had cleared it enough for us to climb through, as per my request.

Bruce, who had shrunk back to his human form—he'd told me before that he and the Big Guy had come to something of a truce for Peter's sake, but I couldn't believe it had actually worked—was wearing Avengers sweatpants and a white t-shirt and waiting with a backboard. Bucky settled Pyotr gently on it, strapping him down, whispering soothingly to the boy when he whimpered, and carted him quickly aboveground to the Quinjet.

For my part, I shoved Ross at a startled Steve, who took his arm and glanced at me questioningly.

I raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge me. "He's an official prisoner of SHIELD, and I'm his handler. He's going to go in front of a judge and jury on international television and every single one of his crimes is going to be uncovered and exposed for every eye in the world. And then he'll go rot in a hole for the rest of his miserable little life." I crossed my arms. "Any complaints, Captain?"

Steve swallowed. "No, ma'am."

I smirked, settling my eyes on the man in front of me, whose eyes were locked on the rubble at his feet. "I thought not."

"What about the other one?" Tony asked, looking at Ross with absolute disdain. Ross' eyes shot up at the mention of his son.

I looked from Tony to Ross, staring him in the eyes. "I shot him in the chest and left him to bleed out in a crumbling HYDRA base alone."

Ross seemed to have expected the words, but his grief still showed. He bowed his head, his expression contorted.

I stalked right up to him and throat-punched him hard enough to send him gasping to his knees, a surprised Steve letting him fall.

"You do not get to feel grief," I seethed, crouching in front of him as he gasped and coughed, barely maintaining his balance. "You do not get to feel sadness or regret for what your actions have done. That young man was a monster that you warped and twisted to your own needs. He was a lunatic. A deluded, sadistic, unfeeling madman." I leaned in close, my lips almost brushing his ear. "Just. Like. You."

Ross flinched.

"Trust me, Secretary Ross," I said sarcastically, spitting his name like a curse. "I am not finished with you."

I stood, standing over him for just a moment, before nodding towards Steve.

I was not finished with the good General by a long shot.

A/N: I'M SO SORRY. Real life is literally a mess right now. But it's fine! We're allllllll fine. Okay I didn't mean to make Natasha so badass but HOLY CRAP SHE WAS SO BADASS!

Okay so Reviews! I have gotten SO MUCH positive feedback over the course of this fic, and I just can't express how much I appreciate each and every one of you for the time you take to read my story and keep up with it even when I don't update like I promise I will…..

Especially to my reviewers of last chapter: zZCoalpawZz, screechyfangirl, TC Howl, BabyPinkPuppy, PrincessNaina, Deaths Mistress of Death, RoyalDelacroix, Puppens101, Melancholy's Sunshine, AnnaMalfoy1905, Scarbreathaway, mpahy, monkeybaby, Song No Found, Jedi Master Megan, Ichigo1217, Shannon K, Goddess of Fanfictonn, Luzith, Myxes, galahsrock, Andipandi5, LoonyLovegood1981, Timeless Euphoria, Navyangel85, totallynotachicken, The Violent Kurumi, Stormshadow13, jenakara, The Bug, Sky Dreamer 12, curry-llama, peter is my life, OneOfYourFans, Guest, Bob is a ninja, JJ, Peacockgirl, wolfcathope, The Striking Storms, doglover500, Dimensional Phaser, katwinchester, Geekowl546, Moonlight013, marissamtz000, ALonesomeAuthor, and Hadassah the Bunny!

Peter is my life: Lol here you go! Sorry for the wait!

OneOfYourFans: I am so sorry to hear that. You take all the time you need and do what's best for you and your mental health :) thank you so much for reading this far, and if I ever get the time, I'll try to write a couple fluffy one-shots just for you

Guest (Hello my dude…): That's a great idea! Sorry it didn't play out that way tho XD thank you so much! I really appreciate you reading and reviewing!

Bob is a ninja: lol whatever will I do against a ninja XD

JJ: SAME THO

Peacockgirl: You're RIGHT. He DOES need those things. But he didn't get them today. Sorry! Fluff coming soon!

Sorry for the long wait that's probably gonna follow this one too…I really am doing my best X'D

NEXT! Ya know what, we'll find out. I think…angst ;) as if there hasn't been enough

Also I realize now I grossly underestimated the amount of time capture / torture / rescue would take, so this fic is gonna be longer than 40 chapters, for those of you keeping track XD

Thank you guys so much for all the amazing support :)