You guys I dyed my hair purple and I LOVE ITTTT.

Here's a new chapter to celebrate.

Chapter 29

Steve and Bucky wasted no more time, tearing their way through escaping Hydra agents to get to the third level. Bucky stumbled as he jerked the door to the floor off it's hinges, narrowly missing his partner as he tossed it over the stairs.

Bucky led the way, remembering as he went where the chamber was. This floor was simpler, he remembered. A long hall, three doors. The two on the right were insignificant, leading to smaller interrogation-like rooms. A door on the left was already open, and Bucky more or less kicked it open the rest of the way, his rifle up.

His sight narrowed in on the occupied chamber to his left, one of several in the room. Steve tossed his shield across the room, breaking Bucky's vision and reminding him that there were still hostiles in the building.

Without a second thought, he aimed at the man closest to the pod and fired, low and accurate. The man screamed out as his kneecap exploded and he fell to the ground in a lump. He would not kill them. They didn't deserve a quick death.

The room was cleared quickly, only three agents having remained in the room. Cap had knocked one unconscious while Bucky had made quick work of the other two with his rifle.

Bucky grinned down menacingly at the man near the tank. "I don't remember you," he hissed in Russian.

"And you won't when Hydra gets you back under their control." He bit down hard on something in his mouth before Bucky could react, and slumped to the ground. Ignoring the little dramatic show, Bucky turned back to see Steve slowly approaching the pod, wiping at the condensation on the glass in an effort to see in.

"We need to get her out," he muttered. Steve wound his shield back, ready to pound at the glass. As Bucky realized what he was doing, he dove forward and knocked the shield away from him, grabbing his arm with a yell of don't.

"What? Why?" Steve demanded.

"It's a process," Bucky said quickly, looking around for the control panel for the tank she was in. "If you don't do it right, you could kill her."

"Alright." Steve shifted, following the other man to a podium-like computer. "What do we need to do?"

Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek and tapped away at the screen, pulling up different windows and settings. "I saw them do this once," he mumbled, "when they woke up another soldier and I was in the room."

"How long will it take?"

"About twenty minutes. I have to lower her temperature to a safe level as quickly as possible, and then slowly bring her body temperature down to a normal level or she could sustain tissue damage."

Steve nodded once and slid his shield onto his back. "Do it. If trouble finds us, I'll hold them off as long as possible." Steve put a finger to his ear. "You guys alright out there?"

"We're managing," Sam grunted. "Two SUVs managed to leave, Ironman is chasing them down so I doubt they'll get far. The rest of them are trapped unless they got some kinda underground parking deck."

"Let us know if you need backup."

Bucky paused when the console beeped loudly in time with Clara's tank. Steam released from a tube and the windows quickly became clearer. Bucky's breath hitched now that he could see her, the frost clinging to her dark hair and pale skin, the blue tint of her lips. But more so, he saw the terrified look frozen on her face, her eyes still wide in fear.

"That supposed to happen?" Steve asked slowly. Bucky just stared down at the monitor, trying as hard as he could to slip back into that one time, wishing he was more confident in what he was doing.

But there were no warnings popping up on the screen, nothing to denote that he was necessarily doing anything wrong. He finally found the screen displaying her vitals and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Bucky—"

"It's fine," he breathed, pressing another button. "Ten minutes and we can get her out. She's going to be a little out of it, so we'll have to carry her." He watched her heartbeat slowly, but steadily increase towards a more normal beat.

Steve clapped him on the back. "She's going to be okay, Buck."

A corner of Bucky's mouth lifted for a split second and he nodded, eyes never leaving the screen in front of him.

Those last ten minutes felt like an eternity as Bucky watch the bpm rise achingly slow. He glanced up at her occasionally, watching her hair fall limp from the melting moisture, color slowly returning to her cheeks. When her heart rate was steady, her blood pressure and oxygen levels out of a harmful range, Bucky tapped a button and quickly made his way to the tank, Steve right behind him.

The glass enclosure slid down slowly and Bucky wasted no time reaching in and pulling Clara from the harnesses that held her upright. She felt worryingly limp in his arms, still so cold to the touch, but there were small twitches of movement that gave him hope.

He carefully carried her away from the tank and sat her down on the floor, her back against the podium, and cupped her cheeks. "Clara?"

She moaned, her eyes fluttering but unfocused.

"You sure she's okay?"

"Yeah, I told you she'd be out of it," he mumbled, rubbing her cheek with his warmer flesh hand. "She doesn't have the serum like I do, so I don't know how long it'll take her to—"

"Bucky?"

Bucky smiled as Clara's eyes finally focused on him. Her face crumpled, a sob escaping her, and she reached up weakly towards him. Her arms wound around the back of his neck to pull him to her. He met her half way and pulled her to his chest, feeling the damp coldness of her seeping through his clothes. He stood, holding her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"It was terrifying," she breathed shakily, but he shushed her, kissing her hair above her ear.

"I know. It's okay now, you're okay." He pulled away and quickly shucked off his top sweater, scrunching up the sleeves like he used to do for Rebecca when she was little to help Clara put it on. She shook as he helped guide her arms through the too-big sleeves and pulled it down over her head. Her teeth clattered together quietly. "Can you stand?"

She didn't reply quickly enough for him and he stood in front of her, quickly leaning down and scooping her up into his arms. Clara didn't protest, she simply wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the warmth of his neck.

"It was so awful," she whispered.

"Shh." He adjusted her quickly, getting a better grip, and then turned to Steve. "We're ready to go. Sam have the jet ready?"

Steve pressed his lips together, hand at his ear for a second, before it dropped to his side and he nodded once. "He's got it ready to go. Come on."

Bucky followed behind Steve as they made their way to the elevator this time. He'd feel better in an enclosed space where he could better protect her. Steve punched the button for the ground floor before turning to Clara, reaching over and brushing her damp bangs off her face. Her brown eyes were wide and glassy, barely focusing.

"We'll take her back to DC," Steve murmured. "She can get something to eat on the jet, warm up."

Bucky didn't respond, he just kept his eyes on the reflection of them in the metallic walls of the elevator. He was dressed like the Winter Soldier, but when he looked at his face, all he saw was that scared kid from Brooklyn with a draft notice in his hands. He took a little comfort in that, despite the new faces he had to add to the already lengthy list of people he'd murdered.

It was for her, though, he tried to convince himself, his gaze shifting to the reflection of his arms holding up a small, dark haired woman. It'd been a warmer day in DC. She only had on a thin pair of jeans and those white canvas shoes she liked so much—one of which was missing, leaving her foot bare.

The elevator dinged and opened to the floor facing the door they'd come in, the silhouette of the Quinjet visible in the fog of the snowstorm outside.

"I'm sorry," Bucky murmured down to Clara. "It's gonna get cold for a little bit, but then you'll be warm, I promise."

Clara only clutched Bucky tighter as he jogged through the cold towards the ramp. "No one escaped," Tony declared as he landed at the bottom of the ramp, Sam quick to land behind him.

"Tony took care of the SUVs, no one else should be able to leave."

Bucky grunted with a nod as he gently placed Clara in the closest seat, disentangling himself from her arms as he murmured to her. Steve passed by to take the seat at the front of the ship, Sam removing some of his gear near the back where the ship was closing.

"Jarvis, scan Dr. Maitland for me please," Tony commanded, stepping up next to Bucky. When he realized what Tony was doing, he took a step away to give Tony room. "Concussion, sprained ankle, couple lacerations that could use cleaning, and…" He stepped closer to Clara. "Lean forward."

Clara blinked up at Tony before her gaze flicked to Bucky, who crouched beside her and carefully took her shoulders in his hands, moving her back away from the chair. Tony reached down and lifted up the bottom of her shirt a bit.

"Yeah, that probably…hurts," Tony mumbled, inspecting the black bruise on the small of her back before letting her shirt drop.

"Are there blankets on here?" Bucky asked quietly, helping Clara slowly lean back against the chair again. She was still shaking, her hands the worst of it. He pulled her sleeves down over her hands and curled her fingers around them, locking her hands inside.

Tony returned quickly as the engines around them roared to life and handed Bucky a thin blanket. "It's all we have for now. Once we get in the air we can pump on the heat."

Bucky took it, sending a half smile up at Tony, thanking him, but not wanting to meet the man's eyes just yet. He quickly wrapped Clara in the blanket, and she helped him wrap herself, eager for the comfort. She let him buckle her in before he buckled himself into the seat next to her on the other side of the ship.

"Alright, let's go home," Steve announced, flipping a few things on and letting the ship lift off the ground with a shutter.

Bucky unbuckled himself quickly and leaned over Steve's shoulder as the Jet began to ascend. "What kind of weapons are on this?" he grunted, flipping through a few things and dodging Steve's attempts to brush him off. A part of the ship popped up on the screen, highlighted in red, and both men froze. Bucky looked down at Steve. "What the hell does Stark need this kind of power for?"

Steve's hands fell into his lap and he glanced back at Tony, who was standing behind Clara's chair, a hand braced against the ceiling. "Well, there was this alien invasion thing…" he shrugged. "Rather have and not need then need it and…" He gestured vaguely.

Bucky rolled his eyes and tapped in a few coordinates, locking on the warehouse.

"If that thing blows up and takes us out with it, I'm going to kill you both," Sam grumbled, tightening his seatbelts. "I'm just saying—super soldier does not mean immortal."

"Oh, please, my tech is a little more advanced," Tony scoffed. "That missile can be fired from anywhere within a ten mile radius, just give it coordinates—like Manchurian Candidate just did—and we'll be a safe distance before this Hydra facility collapses."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Tony, making a mental note to look that up later if he remembered.

"I really don't remember Howard being such an asshole," Bucky muttered under his breath, causing Steve to laugh.

"Go strap in. We've got a ways before home."

Let me know what you think!