A New Maybe

I'm coming home

Warnings: Injuries

His heart sews itself back into his chest and his lungs fill with desperately needed air with the sound of your voice on the line, though broken, it means you're okay, alive, breathing, and it is that one fact that helps clear the fog of his mind, but his breath hitches as he hears you sob and his stomach twists at the sound, "Where are you?  Are you okay?"

"Bucky, can you come get me?" you speak through a shaking voice and your hands tremble as they hold the phone to your ear.  The experience washes over you in broken glass and heated nails as you remember everything and never once did you think you'd be this happy to hear Bucky's voice silencing the chaos of your thoughts, "Please."

"I'm coming, I swear to God I'm coming, just tell me where you are," Bucky says and there is a thud on over the line, a loud groan before rustling and a closing of a door. 

"I-I don't know—I'm at a gas station in the middle of nowhere," you rush and send a look over your shoulder to Grayson who is still on the phone with the police and he nods, scribbling down an address on a scrap receipt, "I just started running and I didn't stop, I didn't know where I was going and I didn't see any signs—"

"Hey-hey-hey, it's okay, it's alright, I'm coming to pick you up, I'm already on my way, okay?  Is it an old Shell station off an old road?  Pretty broken up?"

You nod before realizing he can't see you and stutter out a broken, "Yes.  Grayson is giving me an address."

"I'm on my way, I think we passed it when we came in," Bucky says and relief starts to flood his veins like a drug and he relaxes slightly in his seat as he drives, but tenses up at a thought, "Are you okay?  Are you hurt?"

You hesitate, then evaluate, your injured wrist is cradled against your chest as you curl in on yourself as much as you can, and now that you are resting, your ankle is not throbbing as much, but it is significantly more sensitive.  The cuts on your arms have quit bleeding as much, but they are still there, stinging, and you are sure the bruises are a dark shade of purple by now.

"Y/n?"

"I'm okay," you mutter and fight the tears behind your eyes—you're so sick of crying, "A little banged up, but I'm okay."

Bucky sighs in relief, "Okay.  I'm on my way, I'll be there soon."

"How long?" you ask and almost hate yourself for it, for sounding so weak, so broken, but it is already too hard to hold back the knot in your throat, you can't really bring yourself to care.

"Fifteen minutes, probably less, just stay on the phone, okay?  I'm going to give you to Sam so he can make sure we are going to the right place, just hang in there," Bucky says and waits for your confirmation before handing the cell to Sam and pressing a little harder on the accelerator.

"Hey there, Kid, it's Sam," an unfamiliar voice talks over the speaker and you chew at your lip, "We are on our way, do you have an address I can use?"

You offer the address quickly before sirens fill your ears and red and blue lights paint the gas station and Grayson places a gentle hand on your shoulder as a few officers walk inside.

"The cops are here," he says and you nod, thanking him as you offer a glance to the cops on the customer side of the counter before talking to Sam.

"The cops are here, I-I gotta go," you whisper and there is muttering on the line that vaguely sounds like an argument.

"Okay, kid, just hang tight, we're going to be there soon," he says and with a nod, you hang up before turning to the officers.

They look you over and once their eyes settle on the bruises on your neck, their faces twist into disgust, but not toward you, and you know it, it is an anger simmering underneath their skin like a raging fire, but their eyes show pity, and it isn't helping the fact you can barely seem to keep yourself together.