#til infinity

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pairing: Bucky x female!y/n

warning: mentioning of the red room, blood, physical & mental pain/torture

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Y/N

"Ouch- ah-" you whined a little and sighed, trying to stitch your own wound on your hand. Again, you‘ve been too incautious.

"Y/n?" A hoarse voice called out, heavy steps walking up to the bathroom but the door is locked. "Y/n…" it sounded more soft now. It sounded like he had leaned his head against the door.

You held your breath for a moment, maybe he will think you‘re not in here. "There’s blood on the floor, c‘mon, let me in please…" he knocked against the door, his knuckles were heavy and loud when they met the wooden door. It took yourself another moment before you gave in and opened the door, tried to not move too much. A painful whine left your lips anyways, the cut was deep.

"Why didn’t you told me?" He said softly, going on his knees right infront of you. "You know that I will help you right?" He carefully took your wounded hand and looked at it, his hair was loosely falling in his face, his brows furrowing a little in concentration. "How did you managed it this time? A wall? Or the punching bag?" He asked, not looking up, his eyes were glued to your hand.

"The bag… I fixed my hands the wrong way…" your voice was quiet, you were a little embarrassed, it’s the third time. And even now, you didn’t stopped but continued fighting the bag. As if you were in trance, the anger and confusion drove you crazy in those moments.

"I will show you." The older one started stitching your Wound, as if he hadn’t done anything else but patching up wounds.

"Ouch…" you whispered, your hand twitching a little. "It’s- I’m sorry…" you looked away, in your mind Bucky was still a mentor, the one who trained you for years. This little moments, him being soft and caring. You always tried to remember it once it was time to get trained again.

It’s nothing personal, you‘re just not good enough yet.

You shook your head quickly, watching him wrapping bandage around your hand. Your fingertips were sore from poking them with the needle, when you tried to sew the wound, your head felt tired.

"Bed?" He whispered close to your ear, a slow nod as reply was enough for him to pick you up, your head leaning against his shoulder. "You‘re safe…"

His words got through to you, even if you felt like it’s been 1993 and you just got back from a fight, your mind was playing games. "We‘re home, dear." His voice was demanding in a soft and caring way.

"Home…" You whispered while your eyes were glued to his face. His wrinkles, three-days-old beard the tired eyes. "Home." You said again and once he laid you on the bed, you were back in the right reality, utterly tired, exhausted even. "Hey are we back?" His voice was now like a whisper, while he started changing your clothes, he knew you better than others. "Yea… yes I’m back." You nodded.

It’s been an up and down, since the red room had done many tests and procedures with you, you haven’t been able to life alone anymore, you zone out too often for too long, forget to drink and eat.

"Dear" he gently caressed your cheek, looking in your eyes. "James" you whispered back, a shy smile on your lips. He was with you through all of it, rescued you from the red room, staid by your side, helped you breathing.