Scars That Last Forever {Re - Write}

Chapter Five

Bucky and I stare at each other. Agents are pressed up against the glass. A red glow casts over Bucky's face and glints off of his metal arm. If I didn't know him I would be terrified. His jaw is clenched and his hands are balled into fists. 

The room is completely empty besides the two of us. The grey cement is marked with red, blood stains that could never be washed out. 

...

8  Years Ago 

Dark. 

A man dressed in black walks in. I try to move but I am strapped to a chair. 

"This is the training room," A different voice says from above me, "You will be spending a lot of time here." 

The restraints pop open and I am free to stand up. 

Too afraid to do so, I push my small body further into the chair. 

Don't hurt me, please. 

Don't hurt me. 

Another man dressed in black walks out. Muffled screams accompany him. He drags in a middle-aged woman, her clothes are torn and her eyes are wide. Then, he drops her. 

The two men in black back out of the room. 

Click. 

The door is locked. 

"Kill her." The same voice says from above. 

I pick up the gun by my side. 

The woman screams. 

I pull the trigger. 

Blood splatters the ground and she slumps backward, her arms and legs in unnatural positions. 

The man in black comes in again. Before I can do anything he pushes me to the chair. With one hand he pulls the shirt from my body. 

Cool air sends a shiver down my spine. 

He makes a small but deep cut over my chest. 

I'm too numb to scream. 

I just killed a person. 

...

Now

"Kill him," The voice from above says. It isn't talking to anyone in particular. It's not telling me to kill Bucky, or Bucky to kill me. They just want one of us dead. 

Bucky flicks his eyes down to his leg and my eyes quickly follow. 

Remember, he taps against his legs. I nod. He slowly starts to walk toward me. Hands raised to protect his face. I get into a similar stance. He throws a punch that I quickly catch. I shove him, hard. 

Once he regains his balance he walks closer to me. I pretend not to notice as his hands reach around to the back of his belt. I throw a punch that lands solidly on the side of his face. 

In one swift motion, he launches the grenade upwards and pulls me down under him. 

I want to protect you. 

There is a loud shriek from above, the impenetrable glass windows collapsing under the pressure from the omnipotent blast. My ears ring and I lazily blink my eyes. Beyond the strings of brown hair covering my eyes, I can see the fiery orange and billowing black smoke. 

Screaming. 

Sticky blood trickles down my legs and arms. I realize in an instant that it's not my blood. 

"Bucky!" I yell, but I can hardly hear my own voice. I shake the body on top of me. He grunts. The weight pressing me down to the ground disappears and I gasp for a deep breath. 

The smoke from the explosion fills my lungs. Coughs rack through my body and I try to sit up straight. I fumble with the bottom hem of my shirt and quickly rip a piece of fabric off and tie it around my mouth. 

It's only then that I notice my cheeks are damp. My eyes are burning. I look over to Bucky and can barely see his figure through the haze. Blood drips from his fingertips, but he too has cloth tied around his mouth and is pushing himself up. 

The remnants of the brick walls are still too high to jump. I grab onto Bucky with one hand and shoot a web to the ceiling with another. 

"I can't see!" I scream, "I don't know where to land!" The black smoke makes it impossible to see a thing in the already dark room. 

"Red light, over there," Bucky commands. Instead of responding I swing our bodies through the cloud, miraculously our feet land on solid ground. 

My breath catches in my throat and my mouth falls open. Mangled bodies litter the floor, some missing a limb and some so chared it is hard to think it was even a person less than a few minutes ago. 

"There should be a vent, straight up-" 

There is a sharp whizzing sound and then a loud thump. Bucky falls to the floor, a gaping hole in his leg, quickly it overflows with blood and pools on the ground. Bucky's breathing comes out in quick pants. His back is covered with shards of broken glass. 

The whizzing sounds grow louder and soon it's all I can hear. I grab onto Bucky's collar and pull him towards a table turned on its side. The clanking sounds of the bullets bouncing off of the table are almost comforting. Almost. 

"Peter," Bucky, "You promised you would keep going. Leave me behind." 

"No!" I scream, "They already saw me help you. It's too late." 

"Then get out of here!" 

I pull my shirt over my head and twist it to make a strip of fabric. 

"You told me you want to protect me. Don't you think I'd return the favor?"

I lift his leg, earning a grunt of pain and Russian swear words are mumbled into the floor. I wrap the fabric just above the wound in his lower quad. With all my strength I tie a knot in my old shirt. I have to stop the bleeding. 

"You think you can get up? We have to move quickly, but I should be able to get us to the vent. I just need you to rip it off with your hands."

"I'll slow you down," he grunts looking up at me, "Go." 

"The only thing slowing me down is you being stubborn. Besides, I can't swing and rip the vent off at the same time. They'd shoot me. I need you Bucky," I plea grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him up so my shoulder is wedged under his arm. 

"You sound like Steve," he says with a small nod towards the vent. His teeth are gritted but he takes a deep breath. 

I shoot one web above the vent and swing us right up close. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder, but ignore it save for the small gasp that falls out of my mouth. Once we are in reach, Bucky grabs the vent cover with his metal arm and pulls. I swing him into the vent before climbing in myself. 

Bucky leaves a trail of blood behind him, and I try to ignore the sticky feeling it leaves on my palms. We have to get out, and then we will treat our wounds. Besides, we both have enhanced healing. We will be fine. We will be fine, I tell myself again. 

My heart thuds in my chest and the metal sides of the seem to get smaller and smaller. It's all in your head. Keep going. 

The vent seems like an endless pit of black. My arm throbs and screams in pain every time I put weight on it. I think it was just a graze, but it still hurts like a bitch. 

Bucky stops abruptly in front of me and I almost run into him. 

Light reflects off Bucky's arm. I smile.