When I woke the first thing I was aware of was the burning pain in my throat and the pounding in my head. When I opened my eyes I remembered where I was. I tried to move but it hurt. I winced in pain. My stomach felt bruised. Oh my God, I couldn't believe it was real. Rollin's gun was at my side. Did I kill him? I wanted to stop him, I wanted to get away but had I really wanted to kill him? I heard the gun go off in my mind and I felt the weight of his body and the feel of his blood spatter over me. My stomach churned. Without further warning I vomited on the floor beside me. It stung my throat and I couldn't stop myself from crying in pain. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and I saw that my sleeve was speckled red with Rollin's blood. I quelled the panic I felt rising because pressingly I could hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps making their way slowly down the hallway.
I'd tried every door on this floor, smearing blood as I went and that trail stopped when this door opened. They'd know I was in here. I glanced around the room desperately. They were coming and I had to hide. I shuffled backwards along the floor with my butt and hands, the gun in my lap, to behind the shelving stacks. There was nowhere I could escape to. I was trapped. I stood up woozily and staggered to the last shelving stack at the back of the room, clutching at my sore stomach. I crouched down beside it and made myself as small as I could in the corner. With the gun in my hand, I closed my eyes and I prayed that whoever it was wouldn't see me.
The door handle twisted open and I stopped breathing. They stepped inside and I heard them slowly walk around the room. The sound of my own blood pumping loudly filled my already throbbing head. I bit my lip so hard I drew blood. Suddenly, I heard the door click shut and then nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. I could only hear my own heartbeat.
I had no control of the terrified and confused sob that escaped me. I pressed my hand over my mouth to quieten myself.
"Lucy?" The voice whispered breaking the silent tension of the room. And another sob tore from me. A cry of relief because I knew that husky female voice.
"Na..." I swallowed painfully. "Natasha?" I croaked and it hurt. It hurt to speak.
Slowly I grappled with the side of the stack and pulled myself up. I cautiously crept out of my hiding place; the gun held awkwardly out in front of me, I had no idea how to hold it.
She was standing by the door and dropped her aim the second I stepped into view. I staggered towards her, breaking into uncontrollable sobs and let Rollin's gun drop to my side. Natasha held her finger to her lips to quieten me and then took the gun out of my hand. She motioned to the door and I knew she meant that someone was outside. With a nod she gestured for me to stand in the corner by the door. With the wave of a hand she bid me to crouch down which I did. Natasha stood in front of me and when the door opened and a black clad arm stretched in to the room she grabbed hold of it, twisted her body and threw them to the floor. When they tried to get up she slammed their head into the wall and they slumped forwards unconscious.
"I have her", she said in to the comms device at her wrist. I sagged against the wall in relief. I wanted to throw myself at her feet, I wanted to throw my arms around her but I doubted she would appreciate that. Natasha helped me up, assessed the bruise that was no doubt circling my neck and looked me over. "Is this your blood?"
"Rollins", I rasped and winced. "I shot him", I was awash with guilt for a man I hated.
"You shot him?" Natasha looked sceptical. I nodded. My throat stung so much. Fresh tears spilled forth. "The others, you have to help the others!"
"On it, let's get you out of here. Can you walk?"
"Yes", I whispered.
"I'm taking you to the roof, Sam will meet us there".
"Bucky?" I croaked. I so desperately wanted to see him.
"He's here", she replied and checked the rounds in her gun. "Ready?" I nodded.
Natasha led the way into the hallway. The lights were flickering, someone must have hit the cables and I thought ridiculously I'll have to fix those. I followed her as closely as possible; we came to the end of the hallway and headed for the stairwell. A HYDRA operative came through the doors and Natasha shoved me to the ground on the opposite side of the hallway. I buried my head in my hands as a flurry of bullets flew over me.
"The stairwell, GO!" Natasha shouted. As she fired her gun, pinning them down as I ran to the exit.
I pulled open the door and ran in the darkness of the stairwell to the roof, missing steps as I went, almost tumbling down. I ran through the pain and exhaustion and the noise of the bullets from the floor below. When I made it to the roof exit door it never occurred to me to open it cautiously, instead I punched at the bar handle and flung it open with all I had and propelled myself forwards. I went down on my hands and knees onto the gravel, adding cuts and scrapes to my list of injuries. I stood up and brushed myself off and I heard the crunching of gravel from behind me.
"Sam?" I called out and turned around. It wasn't him. The black uniformed figure aimed his weapon and I ran for the cover of a large air conditioning unit. Bullets whizzing past me and then pinging against the metal of the unit.
They kept firing and then suddenly as the bullets started, they stopped. It was quiet again. I tried to catch my breath and slowly inched my way along the unit, my back pressed against it. Where was Sam? I came to the edge of the unit and peered nervously around it. There was no one there. I sighed and as I made to move around the corner a gloved hand smothered my mouth and I was pulled backwards. My screams muffled against the hand. They grabbed hold of me with their other arm and spun me around, pushing me up against the metal of a large air conditioning unit. I struggled until I saw the sunlight bounce off the metal of his arm.
Bucky. It was Bucky. He waited until I calmed down before he removed his hand from my mouth and then ran over my tender forehead with his fingers; I hissed a little as it was sore. His face was dark with fury. He opened his mouth, about to say something but was interrupted by the arrival of an enemy agent. The man fired and Bucky's arm deflected the bullet. Bucky didn't blink as he discharged his gun into him and he went down instantly with one shot.
Another HYDRA agent came up behind him and knocked Bucky's weapon out of his hand but he didn't miss a beat, he pulled a knife from a pocket on his sleeve and fought the HYDRA operative hand to hand, ducking and weaving; attacking and blocking with his prosthetic arm like a perfectly choreographed deadly dance until he twisted the man's arm behind his back, snapping it in the process and plunged the knife into his torso below where his tactical vest ended. He let the man drop to the gravel with a thud. The reality of Bucky's work.
His face was cold, unreadable and then he glanced up and saw me shaking and panting with fear.
Bucky closed the space between us in a few quick strides. He didn't speak; he just pulled me into his arms and pressed me in to his embrace. I allowed myself to cry into his chest but I didn't hold him back, my arms were hanging limply at my sides. I felt his lips brush against the top of my head and he was speaking to me but I didn't hear what he was saying. I felt like I was going under again. Somewhere up ahead I heard the loud chopping blades of a helicopter and felt the whoosh of air that accompanied it, blowing the gravel around on the roof top, dashing it around my ankles.
Then suddenly we were being pulled apart, faces I recognised from the protection team came into view. Agent Merriweather was there, he wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and I saw Sam running towards me. He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. People were asking me questions but I couldn't understand them, I couldn't speak. And then I was being pulled away, I held on to Bucky's hand not wanting to let go. I didn't want to leave him. I wanted to be with him. I felt safe in his arms.
"...helicopter to the hospital", Agent Merriweather's voice broke through the fog in my head.
"No", I shook my head. "No".
"You're hurt", Sam told me gently. Bucky let go of my hand and smiled sadly.
"No", I replied but I didn't fight them as they ushered me into the helicopter. I kept glancing back to Bucky, he stood quietly, unmoving as he watched me go and suddenly we were in the air and the people on the roof became smaller and smaller. And Bucky was gone.