Hell Bound

I woke up a few hours later when Bucky shifted on the couch beside me. My head rested next to his thigh, and I had my arms wrapped around myself. I don’t know if I was sleeping as much as dozing. My body ached from sitting in the same spot on the hard floor for so long. He moved and let out a groan. My eyes shot open.

“Hey, whoa. What are you doing?” I asked, jumping to my knees and putting my hands on his chest. He was trying to sit up but didn’t put up much of a fight when I pushed him back down. He dropped onto the couch and groaned again. “You’re not going anywhere for a while,” I told him as I smoothed his hair back out of his face to see how hot he was. But he was always on the warm side, so it wasn’t easy to tell.

“I don’t think I could go anywhere if I tried,” he said. His eyes were still shut, but there was tension on his face that hadn’t been there when he was knocked out. He was definitely feeling it now.

“And you shouldn’t. You lost a lot of blood, and that shrapnel lodged pretty deep. Even with accelerated healing, you’ll need time to recover.”

“I don’t want to put you in danger.” He moved again, but I shoved him back down.

“Don’t worry about me. You’re not going anywhere, alright?” He finally gave up and didn’t try to sit up again. But then his eyes opened, and he looked at me.

“I need to clean up,” he told me.

“Then let me help you.” I stood and tried to wrap my arm around him, but we only managed to get him about two inches off the couch before he dropped again.

“I can do it,” he insisted, though he was breathing heavily through his clenched teeth. “Just give me a second.” I moved to sit on the coffee table as he worked through the pain. It took him a minute to get passed it, and then he sat up again in one swift movement. His face went pale, and he was holding his breath. I sat down beside him and put my hand on his bare shoulder. His skin was burning.

“You okay?” I asked. He didn’t answer right away. He shook his head once and then needed another moment to come up with words.

“It feels like I’m being ripped apart from the inside,” he muttered.

“Well, considering the amount of shrapnel and broken glass I pulled out of you, I think that’s to be expected. There were a couple of rocks too.”

“Thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Oh, you definitely owe me one. But we’ll talk about it another time. Come on.” I lifted his arm around my shoulder and tried to hoist him to his feet. He was much stronger and heavier than me, and I was pretty much useless at helping. But if I could take just a tiny bit of weight off of his wounds, then it was enough to try.

We managed to get him to his feet, but it took some time to get them moving. Once he did, he winced and hissed through his teeth with every step. I left him in the bathroom with strict instructions not to get the sutures wet and then went to finish cleaning up the towels while he was busy. He appeared in the kitchen entryway while I was turning on the dryer. He hadn’t been very quiet for once, and he still had a lot of dried blood on his chest and back. But his arms and most of his face were clean.

“When was the last time you ate something?” I asked, watching him slump against the arch, clutching his bare stomach. He winced. “Are you hungry?”

“Tired,” is all that came out.

“I’d give you my bed if you could get up the stairs. Otherwise, all I can offer you is a couch.”

“Is the kid staying?”

“He doesn’t have any place else to go.” He nodded once.

“Convenient. The couch is fine.” He turned to hobble back into the hall, and I rushed to his side to help him. He seemed grateful for the aid. He leaned into me and took a deep breath before moving forward.

“So you don’t remember me,” I said as we walked.

“I know enough,” he breathed.

“How much is enough?”

“I know you were a combat medic and probably wouldn’t let me die.”

“I see.”

We got to the couch, and I helped him sit down. He took a long time to breathe after his exertion, and I located a pillow for him. I handed it over, and he propped it beneath his head. His legs were resting on the other arm of the sofa since he was much too big to sleep on it. I pulled the blanket back over his legs.

“And I know you had feelings for me,” he added as I tucked it around him. I could feel his gun stuffed into the cushions. I didn’t recall seeing him stick it there, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was never unarmed.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” I questioned. He reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over my cheek again. His fingers were clean now, but I could feel dried blood flake off my skin as he touched me. I forgot that he smeared blood on my face after I’d called him ‘baby.’ Now I could remember the exact look on his face as he did it. Though I couldn’t say it was love.

“It was a hunch,” he said. “Until I heard you tell the kid.” I nodded and stood back up, quickly rubbing the rest of the blood from my cheek.

“Get some sleep, Bucky,” I told him. Then I turned toward the kitchen, so I could shut off the lights and wash my face.

When I returned to the living room, he was asleep again. Though he looked slightly more comfortable and less likely to bleed to death. I wasn’t ready to leave him there by himself. So I went to my room to get some blankets and pillows. Then I set up camp on the armchair beside the couch. I fell asleep to the sound of him breathing quietly in the dark.