Save You To Save Me {| BuckyBarnes x Reader |}

Chapter One

I stare out the living room window of my apartment, watching as the rain cascades down upon New York.  The sky is dark, the clouds are dense.  Still, there's a strong sense of peace that comes with it.  As I watch the candlelight reflecting in the glass from my ambient lighting, a clap of thunder catches me off guard, making me flinch.  Just like that, whatever relaxation I've been able to form is gone within an instant.  Sighing heavily, I stand from the couch and head towards the kitchen, pouring myself another glass of wine.  I laid off the straight liquor a long time ago and try to stick with either mixed drinks or a glass of decent wine.  It's just enough to take the edge off on nights like this.  As I shake out the last few drops from the bottle, the sensation of my phone buzzing in my pocket catches my attention.  Sitting the now empty bottle down, I fish my phone out while walking back to the living room, newly refilled glass in hand.  "Really?  On my night off?"  I groan under my breath as I answer.  "I hope this it's serious because you're interrupting my evening drinking."  I teasingly sneer through the phone.  Fury, but unlike everyone else, I call him Nick.  It annoys him, but I've never been one to follow everyone else's lead.  "What's going on, Nick?"

"Good evening, Y/N!  Yes, I'm doing fine, thank you for asking!"  He returns my sneer, making me laugh under my breath.  Nick and I have been good friends for years now.  I owe the man my life.  "I am sorry for calling, I know this was your day off, but I've got something I need to run by you."

"I'm glad to hear that!"  Sitting my glass down on the end table, I curl my legs underneath me and try to get comfortable once more.  "No apologies needed.  What is it?"

"Do you remember the illegal trafficking of stolen Asgardian goods we were tracking last month?"

"Of course, what about it?"

"I think we've finally pinpointed where the next drop is going to take place, and I was hoping I could convince you to take the case.  It's a small place down in South America, very tropical, very humid, lots of foot traffic.  It's the perfect place to blend in with the local businesses.  Just need you to go down there and stake things out.  Don't engage until you know for sure we're on the right track."

"Nick, I don't know, I'm not exactly--"

"You're going to turn down spending a week in paradise?  Really?  Come on, Y/N!"

"Alright!  Alright!  Fine!  I'll take the case.  I'll be sure to bring you back a keychain."  Resting my head back, I close my eyes for a moment.  "When am I leaving?"

"Tomorrow, noon."

My eyes shoot open as my head whips around.  "Tomorrow?!"

"Get some decent sleep tonight, Y/N!  It's going to be a long flight.  I'll send you all the details before checking out for the night.  Try not to overpack, either.  We've got to be able to get all the luggage onto the plane quickly."

"Wait, wait, Nick, why is there going to be more luggage than just mine?  Is someone coming with me?"

"Not sure just yet, that's going to be my next phone call.  Goodnight, Y/N!"

"Who?!  Don't you--"  The call ending, stops me in my tracks.  I groan loudly.  Yes, I owe him my life, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it all the time.  Placing my phone down beside me, I begin making a mental checklist of what I need to bring.  Grasping my glass, I stand and walk into my bedroom.  So much for a relaxing evening, I suppose.  I pull my duffle bags from underneath my bed and sit them down on top.  Shuffling through, I pull out two of them.  One for personal things, the other for work things.  Can't ever be too careful nowadays, right?  Tropical...  Tropical...  It's mid-February in New York, like I own anything tropical.  I do my best to fish through my clothing, tossing whatever I find that isn't going to give me a heat stroke onto the bed.  Don't overpack.  My mind wanders around as I wonder who is possibly coming with me, and why they're coming.  I have no need for a partner, not anymore.  I haven't for a very long time.  As I shuffle through my things, my eyes catch the photo I have hanging on my dresser mirror.  I'm boarding my jet, a big smile on my face, the word Dart written on the side where the name of the pilot goes.  Y/N "Dart" Y/L/N.  Taking in a calming breath, I slowly tilt my head from side to side, trying to relieve the ever-growing tension.  It's like I can still feel the searing pain from the fire that night.  I can still feel the things that Arnim Zola did to my body.  My old scars become apparent, like a ghostly ache.  My joints stiffen as I'm suddenly lost in memories, lost in my own mind.  My health record was always impressive, and I bounced back faster than most of the men that I had been serving with.  Some said it was a kind of mutant gene, but personally, I always thought it was just my stubbornness.  My lack of ability to give up.  To them, though, I was the perfect candidate for what they were trying to create.  We all knew about Steve Rogers, and the Army was lucky to have him, but my leg of the Military wasn't as lucky.  The freaks over in Germany knew the irony of taking an American soldier and turning them into their own ultimate weapon.  On my end, there wasn't anyone strong enough to stop them from doing so.