Chapter Twenty Four (Content Warning: Anxiety Attack)

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"I'm sorry, Y/N." She says gently.

I put on my forced smile.

"It's alright, it's been this way for a while. I've got everyone I need with me." I say, remembering that they specifically aren't with me. The pit in my stomach just keeps growing.

I think she notices because it looks like she's about to say something, but the sound of a jet landing nearby catches our attention.

"...that was fast." She says with a tinge of uneasiness as we both stand.

"Too fast." I mutter to myself, rushing out of my tent and breaking into a sprint. Soldiers who had started to head over as well jump out of my way, making a clear path to the jet.

They've been gone six hours max, something must have gone wrong.

I was right the whole time, the whole time I was worried and I was right, something went wrong

Someone is hurt

No, someone is dead

It's your fault.

No-

Yes. You weren't there to stop whatever happened.

I arrive at the jet out of breath, only to see the seven men I'd been anxiously waiting on all morning emerge unscathed.

"Steve!" I shout, running up to him. "Are you ok? What happened? Why are you back so early? Wh-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Slow down." He says, hands on my shoulders. "Take a breath. Everything's ok. We didn't have enough fuel to make it there and back."

"But-" I search my mind for some sort of explanation, something to confirm my anxieties, but I come up empty. My stomach churns, so much useless worry built up with no outlet. My chest gets so tight it feels like it's shrinking.

"Y/N?" Comes Bucky's voice. "What's got you all worked up?"

What's got you all worked up?

What's got you all worked up?

What is it?

"Y/N?"

I can't breathe

Too many faces

Too many eyes

Too much

"Y/N!"

Who's talking to me?

"I need to go." I manage to force out, tearing myself from my brother's hands and pushing through two men on my left.

My feet move mindlessly. Maybe I'm running. Maybe I'm walking. I don't know. I can't hear anything over my heart pounding in my ears. My vision is blurred. I think. There's too much input to process.

My breath is quick and desperate, my lungs practically empty. Pure adrenaline has flooded every inch of my body, leaving me shaking. Adrenaline that allows me to fight or flee.

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