THE LEFTOVERS

64. Motherly Love A Sharp Knife

The ride back to the Avengers Mansion was a blur. The rhythmic hum of the engines filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of movement. Bucky hadn't let go of you, his arms wrapped securely around your trembling form, as if his grip alone could anchor you to reality.

You didn't speak. Couldn't. The weight of everything pressed heavily against your chest, suffocating. Every sound felt distant, every moment disjointed, like you were floating just outside yourself. The blood on your skin—some of it yours, some of it not—had dried in sticky patches, a sickening reminder that this was real.

When you reached the mansion, Bucky carried you inside, past the curious glances of the team, past their whispered questions. He didn't stop until you were in the medical wing, where the bright, sterile lights made you flinch. He hesitated only when a nurse gently reached for you, but he forced himself to let go, watching with clenched fists as they guided you to a bed.

A soft blanket was draped over your shoulders, but it did little to stop the shivering. The medic's hands were warm and steady as they checked your vitals, murmuring reassurances that barely registered. Bucky stood just a few feet away, unmoving, eyes locked onto you as if you might disappear if he looked away.

Steve approached, his expression unreadable, though concern tightened the lines around his mouth. "She's in shock," he said quietly. "But she'll be fine."

Bucky only nodded. He knew. But standing there, helpless, as you stared blankly at the ceiling, was worse than any battle he had ever faced.

A deep sigh escaped him, and he slowly lowered himself into the chair beside your bed. He didn't reach for you—not yet—but his presence was a promise. That he was here. That you weren't alone.

And that no one would ever hurt you like this again.

The door to the medical bay slid open with a soft hiss, and Bucky barely spared a glance before familiar voices filled the room.

"Ah, Barnes, brooding as usual. You know, they make chairs that recline now—might make all that sulking more comfortable." Tony Stark strolled in, coffee cup in hand, with Bruce Banner following close behind, tablet in his grip.

Bucky exhaled sharply, but said nothing, his focus never straying from you. Tony's usual sarcasm was subdued, though, lacking its usual bite. Tony's eyes fell upon you when his lips got sealed. The usual sassy woman he had gotten rather fond of seemed long gone. Your eyes were open, but they could not speak. Tony almost worried that the little bird would not sing again.

After all, you were just a civilian. You were not like the rest of them. Simply an innocent partner, and barely that either, to an individual connected to the Avengers.

Bruce took a more careful approach, nodding at Bucky before turning to check the monitors. "Vitals are stable. No signs of internal injury, but she's exhausted. A few stitches, some bruising—she'll need time."

Tony hummed, leaning against the counter. "Good. That's good." His gaze flicked toward Bucky, then to Steve. "And what about you, Captain?"

Steve furrowed his brows. "What about me?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly before he stepped forward, taking in the slight tension in Steve's posture. "Your side, Steve."

"I'm fine," Steve said automatically, but Tony snorted.

"Oh yeah? That why you're standing like a man who just realized his 'invincible' routine has a few bugs?"

"Did you purposely come in here with the intention of being more annoying than an ant?" Steve lifted his eyebrows.