Hell Bound

The blast had damaged my eardrum. I could feel it when the world went silent, and all I could hear was the high-pitched ringing blocking everything else. Bricks and ash shifted as I moved out of the rubble. Something warm and wet like blood dripped out of my ear and down my cheek. But there was freedom in the silence. I lifted my hands, examining them for scrapes and burns, and the first thing I noticed was that I had complete control over them. They were still shaking, but I no longer felt like I was fighting a battle with my own mind.

Russell couldn’t have known that. He just knew that I’d killed two members of his team and would probably kill more. So when he found me, he had to ensure I wouldn’t kill again. I could see him weighing out his options in his mind. He could kill me for what I’d done. As far as he knew, I’d betrayed all of them and had been working for the other side the whole time. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Just in case he was wrong. So he shot me in the shoulder instead.

The colonel brought me out of my daze. He ran into the open courtyard, where he was exposed and vulnerable to sniper fire. He hit the ground when a bullet struck his thigh. I knew I’d never be redeemed for the lives I’d taken, but I couldn’t let another person die when I still had the chance to save them.

So I began to crawl. My legs were too weak to carry me, and I’d lost too much blood to stand. I wasn’t sure if I could reach him in time or what would happen when I did. I just knew that I had to try. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t.

The grenade rolled into view before I reached him. I never knew if it was a delayed explosion or a malfunction, but I reached for it without thinking and sent it back where it came from. It ignited in midair, and the blast was loud enough to break through the ringing silence. The heat of the explosion sent shards of metal and fire raining over the courtyard. It took out half a building and killed the people who’d sent it.

The colonel was yelling at me. I could make out the dull sound of his shouts as I crawled for him. I was disobeying an order, and he knew as well as I did that it was deliberate. I moved to his side, pulled myself up onto my knees, and examined the wound. He tried to shove me away, almost knocking me back into the dirt, but I refused to go. I knew what I had to do to keep him alive, and I was going to try.

He lost consciousness after I dug my fingers into the bleeding hole in his thigh. I felt the artery slip between my fingers. I needed to pinch it. To hold off the bleeding long enough for it to clot. It would be dirty and messy, and he’d likely end up with a severe infection in his blood. But infections could be healed. I needed to keep him alive long enough.

The ringing began to fade, and I made out the sound of rapid gunfire and shouting from far off. Something seemed to be burrowing into my brain again like a slippery worm.

“Sever it,” my mind whispered as the artery slipped between my fingers again. I shook my head.

“I won’t,” I spoke out loud. I’d fought it once to save Jimenez. Talbot wouldn’t die here. I knew that he wouldn’t. I wouldn’t change that. I wasn’t going to let it win.

The shouting grew louder, and my concentration began to slip. I looked up at the road that led into the courtyard. Jimenez was running, yelling for me to get away. To run. My feet responded, and I got myself standing. But my hands moved for the gun, and I heard the voice again at the back of my head. Clear as if my hearing wasn’t damaged.

“Kill him.”

So I lifted the gun and fired.

“Wake up, spooners,” someone said. Bucky jolted behind me. His arm shot off of my waist in a flash. His hand clinked against something metal. A gun. “Jesus. I’m sorry,” Graham was saying. “Where did you have that thing anyway?”

“Couch cushions,” I mumbled, pulling the blanket back over my head so I could bury my face into the crook of Bucky’s arm. He relaxed and lowered the gun. I could feel him shove it back into the couch cushions. “I felt it in there when I was tucking the blanket in.”

“And you couldn’t have warned me?”

“What exactly was I supposed to tell you?”

“Fuck if I know. But it would be nice to walk into a room without someone holding a weapon to my face—or throat.”

“Here’s your warning then. He’s always armed. Always.”

“You startled me,” Bucky added in a gruff voice.

“Believe it or not, I managed to work that one out for myself,” Graham retorted. I could hear him head for the kitchen to get away from us. Bucky sighed and dropped his head back onto the arm of the couch.

“I’m not used to seeing you caught off guard,” I noted, still buried in my hiding place beneath the blankets. His hand came back to rest on my waist. Light, gentle, cautious.

“I was comfortable,” he told me.

“Mm.” I pulled the blanket off my face and blinked as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light. “I have to get ready for work.”

“Is that absolutely vital?”

“Unfortunately.”

I moved his arm off of me and sat up. My eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the bright light filtering through the blinds. I could hear Graham rummaging around in the kitchen for something to eat. He was apparently having no trouble making himself at home. Bucky stayed where he was on the couch behind me, and when I turned around to check on him, his eyes were closed. His arm was tucked back under his head again. He looked ready to go back to sleep. I couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it must be to sleep like that. My shoulders were aching, my neck was stiff, and I must have changed positions at least twenty times before morning.

“I need to check your sutures,” I told him. I stood up, and everything cracked and ached.

“They’re fine,” he informed me. He didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“I might have pulled them out while we were sleeping.”

“They’re fine.”

“Just roll onto your back. You don’t even have to do anything.” He took a deep breath and let it go. Then he readjusted himself onto his back, so I could examine them.

I took my seat beside him again. I wasn’t too worried about the smaller ones since those wounds would likely heal on their own. It was the big one that worried me. I knew it wouldn’t get infected, and he’d probably heal quickly. But there’d been so much internal damage and blood loss that I couldn’t say how long it would take. He still didn’t look quite healthy enough for my taste.

“I never took you for lazy,” I muttered.

“Mm,” he replied, flopping his arm over his eyes to block out the light.

I put one hand on his chest to balance myself on the narrow seat and moved my other thumb just below the wound to test the swelling. His skin tensed, and he whispered something I couldn’t understand. It sounded like Russian. I glanced at him, but I couldn’t judge his expression when half his face was buried in the crook of his elbow.

“Does it hurt when I do that?” I asked.

“No.” His tone was flat and emotionless again.

“When does it hurt?”

“When I move. Or breathe.”

I nodded and moved my hand to the second biggest set of stitches. I didn’t really need to check them since I could see they hadn’t pulled, and they appeared to be healing well. But I was testing a theory. So I gently ran my finger over his skin, and he reacted the same way. His stomach clenched, and he held his breath but didn’t speak.

“Hurts?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Then why do you keep holding your breath?”

“You’re cold.” He was lying. Sleeping against him all night was like lying on a furnace. I’d actually thrown the blankets off more than once.

“Mm-hmm. I’m sure.”

“The kid is in the other room.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just making an observation.”

I reached forward and pressed my lips against the line of his jaw, just an inch from his mouth. I would have gone for his cheek if his arm wasn’t in the way, but he didn’t move until he felt me. He lifted it over his head, exposing his blue eyes to the light. They searched my face, but I kept my distance.

“Please be here when I get back tonight?” I whispered. He moved his hand again, this time trailing his knuckles along my cheek and moving my hair back behind my ear.

“I will be,” he promised. I stood up and stepped away from the couch. His hand dropped again.

“Waffles or cereal?”

“I don’t mind,” he replied. So I nodded and spun to head toward the kitchen, but I ran right into Graham instead.

“Wha!” he said when we collided.

“Oh jeez, I didn’t hear you. Sorry.”

“How did you not hear me? I stomp like an elephant wherever I go.”

“I heard him,” Bucky said from behind me. I turned around to glare at him, but he just gave me that half-smile and covered his eyes with his arm again.