a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

thirty-eight.

MISSOURI, LOCATION UNKNOWN
2015

     ". . . BUT DID you see what happened . . .?"

     ". . . she needs a doctor . . . can't find . . . not a pulse . . ."

     "LAURA . . . ! do you . . . defibrillator . . . it's June . . . she's . . . she's not . . ."

     ". . . on the Quinjet . . . there's one on the Quinjet . . ."

     "CLEAR!"
     THUMP.

     "Do it again! She's not breathing!"

     THUMP.

    

     THUMP.

    

      June woke with a strangled gasp. She choked down a gulp of air and thrashed out wildly, only to be firmly settled by several pairs of hands. She inhaled sharply, once, then let out a panicked exhale that was more of a shout. Everything around her was a nauseating blur, but after a minute or two, the world more or less came back into focus. She gathered she was in the Quinjet, on a gurney, with pain like no other in her chest. "What —?" she sputtered. "Where's Steve?"

     "Your heart stopped," Bruce said breathlessly, two defibrillator paddles gripped tightly in his fists. A heavy sweat was broken out on his brow and he looked as confused as June felt. Pain throbbed in her skull and pins and needles stabbed angrily through her fingers and toes as she struggled to piece together what had happened.

     June rubbed a palm over her chest. "My . . . my heart?"

     Slowly, she surveyed the horrified eyes surrounding her: Bruce, Tony, and Bucky watched her unceasingly, all three of them trembling, sweating, shock slapped on their faces like snapshots frozen in time.

     "Yes," Bruce finally managed, dropping the paddles and shakily adjusting his glasses. "Your heart."

     June brought a quivering hand to her lips. Without forethought, she reached behind her and lifted the hem of her shirt. The air was warm on her goosebumped skin. "Is . . . there a bruise? Right near my spine? Where Clint tased me?" The three of them stayed quiet. June shifted her stare to Bucky, eyes demanding. "James? Tell me."

     Bucky blinked. "Yeah."

     Cold terror washed over June. It came in reverberating waves, knocking her innards around like they were abandoned clutter in the midst of an earthquake. Somehow, her earlier suspicion became jarringly clear. Burned out, a faceless whisperer crooned. She should have burned out years ago. June's lower lip and chin trembled as she tried to speak. "She — she did it. Wanda. She . . . ."