Scars That Last Forever {Re - Write}

Chapter Six

A frigid breeze blows through the open end of the vent. The goosebumps on my arms remind me that I don't have a shirt on at all. I used it to save Bucky. The closer we get, the colder it is. It is like a million tiny knives stabbing me all at once. I'll freeze to death if I don't find anything warm to put on. 

Despite the various injuries, Bucky swings himself over the ledge of the building and hangs onto the side of the vent. I approach the edge and take a deep breath. Cold air floods my lungs and I try not to wince. 

I reach one hand out for Bucky to grab onto and the other out to shoot a web at a tree not too far from the compound. 

"There are snowmobiles behind the shed," Bucky says, holding on to me as I swing us in that direction.  

The ground is covered in a thick layer of snow, and tall trees stretch out in every direction. We approach the small shed. Before the guard can see us, I shoot a web to its chest and throw him into one of the trees a few feet away. 

I run towards the snowmobiles while Bucky runs towards the fallen guard. Considering there is nearly a foot of snow covering the ground, we can only go so fast. A small tingle erupts in the back of my neck and I whip around in time to see another guard coming. I shoot a web at him and slam him into the building. 

I trudge over to him and unzip the jacket from his body. Frantically, I slip my arms through it and zip it up. It immediately provides warmth, but my entire body is still shaking from the cold. Lastly, I pull the thick gloves from his hand before meeting Bucky at the snowmobiles. He is dressed in a jacket and gloves of his own. 

He sits down on the snowmobile and grabs onto the handlebars. He scoots close to the front so I can fit on the back. "Hold on!" He yells to me over the engine. I wrap my arms around his waist but try to keep my body from pressing into his wounded back. 

A cold wind whips around me, knocking the hood off my head. Snow flies up, and I duck behind Bucky's body to keep it from hitting me in the face. 

The base of my neck starts to tingle again. Moments later bullets whiz past us and wedge themselves into the fluffy snow all around us. I hold onto Bucky tighter as he weaves his way through the field of bullets. 

The short distance between us and the tree line seems to stretch for hours. Bullets fly into trees with loud thuds, a few of them toppling over, forcing us to redirect. The whiz of the bullets gets quieter and quieter until the only thing we can see on all sides of us is trees. 

The snowmobile slows to a more moderate pace and we keep going further and further into the woods. Further and further away from HYDRA. Closer and closer to freedom. 

The trees block the sun, but after a while of driving, the darkness takes over. Bucky pulls in beside a particularly large tree and walks around to the back of the snowmobile. He unstraps a sack from the back of the truck and lets out a Russian curse. 

I slip off the snowmobile myself and notice the holes piercing the bag. Nonetheless, Bucky pulls out an oversized sleeping bag, two bottles, and a bundle of cloth. 

"Let me see your shoulder," Bucky says, unfolding the cloth. 

"It's fine, just a graze," I respond, "Your leg is in worse condition. And your back." 

Bucky squints his eyes and I sigh, partially unzipping my coat and showing him the wound. Because it was just a graze, it already started closing up. Bucky inspects in anyways. I hiss at the splash of antibiotics he puts in it. 

Without words, he hands me the bottle and the rest of the cloth. He takes a seat on the snowmobile and I get to work patching up his leg and then pulling glass from his back. 

"We're going to have to share the sleeping bag. There is only one," Bucky says, careful not to get snow in it as he slips loosens his boots, and tucks them away in the bag, "Hurry up, you look cold." 

Once we both manage to wedge ourselves into the sleeping bag, I relax the slightest amount. It is a tight fit and we barely fit, but we are together and away from HYDRA. Right no, that's all that matters. To fit, Bucky had to put one arm around my shoulder and my head is leaning against his chest. It's a little awkward at first, this is the closest I have been to someone in almost ten years. Quickly, the awkwardness leaves and it is just us. 

I smile as his fingers tap against my arm, Don't sweat. It's cold so you might freeze to death in it. 

I choke back my chuckle once I meet Bucky's serious eyes and a slight frown. He isn't joking. Tell me a story?

I doze off to the soothing tapping of his fingers against my arm. He has to push down kind of hard because my jacket is in the way, but it is still nice. Every so often I jerk awake and make sure I am not sweating. From what I can tell Bucky stays awake the entire night. When I do jerk awake, he tells me another story. I don't hear how most of them end, but that is ok.