Everything hurts.
It's the overwhelming thought when consciousness rudely interrupts the solace of oblivion.
A heavy canvas bag covers your head, cinched tight around your neck. It blocks any possibility of light or fresh air, but it doesn't dull the roaring sound surrounding you, the sound of rushing wind, of speed. Coarse fabric rubs harshly against the bare skin of your arms, and even through the thick fabric, the scents of dirt and motor oil and rusted iron prevail. Wrists bound behind you, every slight attempt at movement is cut short by blinding swoops of pain.
Dimly, fractured words appear in your head. Car. Trunk. Highway. Cold.
Blood pounds in your head and nausea roils through your gut, triggering a migraine of epic proportion. Sucking in deep breaths, you try to breathe through the pain, your entire body twitching with every excruciating pulse in your brain.
Everything hurts.
Staying awake is not worth the effort. You feel immensely relieved when the bliss of nothingness hugs you close.
*****
15 MINUTES AFTER ABDUCTION
Steve feels his bike losing control when he takes a turn on the edge of his wheels. Swearing at the top of his lungs, he fights to stay upright.
"Fucking move!" he shouts, to no one and everyone, his voice lost in the blare of Midtown traffic.
He can see the alley entrance from here, and with a panicked fuck it running through his head, he pops the curb and maneuvers down the sidewalk instead, revving the engine to scatter the shouting crowd. When he reaches the entrance, he leaps off the bike as it crashes into an overflowing dumpster, sprinting toward the two figures standing at the end of the alley. He's nearly upon the scene, when he skids to a stop.
All Steve had, was an agonized scream from Bucky telling him to get here immediately.
Now he sees why.
Soaked to the bone, Bucky is motionless, staring down at the body slumped against the dirty brick wall. In an icy, shaky human hand, he has a tight grip on your cell phone, and even from a distance, Steve can smell him.
Bucky reeks of sweat and vomit and fear.
Steve goes cold. He remembers this smell.
It was the same then, exactly identical. Azzano in 1943, when he was ripping apart the stiff clamps and buckles keeping Bucky strapped to that heavy metal slab.
Bucky reeks of sweat and vomit and fear and he is terrified.
Steve takes hold of his arm, shakes him so hard he hears Bucky's teeth clack together.
"What happened? Bucky, what happened?"
Heavy bass music bleeds from the walls of the warehouse, the sound so deep and low, Steve feels his heartbeat mimic the tempo. But over the sound, a different kind of music now breaks through. Sirens are wailing in the distance, the piercing shriek of help coming too late, and it grows louder and louder until a white ambulance turns the corner and careens down the narrow path toward them. The sudden swirl of red and blue spins across everything, the flashing lights a macabre tribute to the strobe lights still dancing unaware inside.
Bucky slowly turns to face him, and Steve feels his heart plummet.
He is utterly shattered.
Streaks of red and blue still paint Bucky's face as he stares back at Steve. Water drips down his face, but whether rain or tears, Steve isn't sure. His mouth moves soundlessly, trembling lips shaping the sounds before his vocal cords can catch up, and then the words are falling.
YOU ARE READING
Safe with me
Fanfiction"You call my name and I'll run to you. I'll always come for you. Do you understand? You're safe with me." When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. One catch. The man is infuriating. Finding a way to co-ex...
