Chapter Text
Shit Shit shit shit Bucky cursed as he pulled Steve closer to him. The wheezing sounded strong enough that the bullet missed the lung. But the blood loss wasn’t good. Bucky glared up at Rumlow.
“The fuck do you want now?” he snarled.
Rumlow tsked at him. Bucky felt a shooting pain up his shoulder again, reminding him how he should be scrapping and begging this man for mercy, not snapping at him. They’d served together and they’d always rubbed each other wrong. When they’d met for the first time after everything had fallen, Rumlow had been made a scout leader for one of the largest bands in the area, HYDRA. They ran most of the remaining settlements and controlled all the supply routes.
When he’d found Steve and Bucky making their own place in the middle of the woods, he’d tried to recruit them. Steve had been both of their captains in the service, but Steve was Bucky’s best friend and now, his lover. Nothing would part them. Not if Steve had any say in the matter.
Rumlow had even offered to let Steve bring Bucky as a follower. That was a nice word for a slave. Even one dedicated to a particular warrior was still treated as an object in the HYDRA forces. Steve had shut that idea down hard. Rumlow had accepted it with a bare thread of grace mostly because Steve and Bucky could disappear to their home. Rumlow hadn’t known where that was then.
It seemed he had found them.
He’d offered Steve a deal. He’d come for all the supplies they’d manage to scrounge in their cabin by themselves since the fall three years ago. He’d let Steve come with the supplies as a warrior. He even still offered the same deal for Bucky as before, which given Bucky’s single arm status at the moment was generous.
Steve, the brave idiot, had stood firm. Or he had until Rumlow had shot him in the chest.
Bucky was pressing against the bullet hole in his shoulder, trying to stem the blood and think quickly. Everything they’d been through to survive the fall, to make some sort of life was all being washed down the drain right now. Bucky couldn’t see a damn thing he could do about it either.
“I already stated what I wanted. Time for you and that lump to become the meat you are worth these days.” Rumlow smiled and he cocked his gun. “I’ll tell you what. Cut your own throat and I’ll put the bullet in his head and stop the pain.”
Bucky growled as Steve shuddered against him, trying to both rise and trying to swallow the pain of what was probably a shattered clavicle. Rumlow grinned wider, “Otherwise, I’ll gut shoot both of you and you can die when you are ready while we gather our new things. Your choice, Sergeant .” The sick bastard was enjoying this.
Bucky’s mouth was dry as he tried to think of another option beside those painted before him. His shoulder was still sending crippling pain through his body. If he moved much, it wouldn’t be impressive. Steve was fading fast. Bucky turned to look in Steve’s eyes. The punk never did know when to quit. He could see it in Steve’s eyes that he’d rather die as he was, than break under Rumlow.
“Time’s up.” Rumlow said with glee. Bucky kept his gaze locked on Steve’s. If he was going to go, that was how it would be.
Thin whistling broke the tableau and despite himself, Bucky turned to see a handful of arrows sprouting in the ground in front of Rumlow and his group of five. They all jumped back a bit. Bucky winced as he forced himself to turn enough to see a dark figure in the afternoon light step into the clearing and stride next to him.
“I think these things are already owned. Best be on your way.” The man said implacably. His dark skin and eye patch pulled at Bucky’s memory but he couldn’t quite bring the identity to the fore.
“You think you scare me with your sticks?” Rumlow spat.
The man shrugged. “Time for you to go, scared or otherwise.” He paused for a moment. “But you would do well to be scared of the territory under Iron Man’s protection.”
Rumlow’s face turned red as he fought the battle between fear and anger. Iron Man was another Band leader. Ruthless, like all the others, he protected his group fiercely and yet from the shadows. Bucky knew those captured by Iron Man were rarely seen again. And those who directly opposed him littered the grounds with the remains of their broken burned corpses.
Apparently Rumlow lands on anger and raises the gun, aiming it towards the newcomer. Before he could fire a shot, an arrow sliced through his hand, knocking the gun away and piercing the delicate bones and tendons of the palm. Bucky would probably throw up if he hadn’t already been too deep in shock. The others in Rumlow’s group scrambled backward.
The newcomer grinned, “Shall we try for another hand?”
That scattered them, Rumlow included. The man huffed a sigh before glancing back into the trees. “I think you lost an arrow.”
Rustling behind Bucky had him tensing more, pulling Steve against him. His lover’s head lolled as he groaned. A blond appeared with a bow and a grin, “It was one of the worst arrows. It didn’t even thread through the trigger guard.”
The dark man huffed as he came over to kneel in front of Bucky. Steve huffed a breath, “F’ry. B’stard.” Bucky could see a sliver of those loved blue eyes looking at the dark man.
“Nice to see you too, Captain. You need to learn to duck better.” The dark man observed as the archer knelt next to them.
The archer winced, “Clavicle hit. He needs Doc at least. Or he’s gonna lose mobility in the arm.”
Bucky bit his lip, pulling Steve close. Iron Man was said to be near as ruthless as any leader. But only to those who opposed him. Rumor was, if you could enter his band, you were set. It seemed Steve at least knew this dark man.
“Please.” Bucky begged quietly. He hated asking for anything, but for Steve, he would throw down all his pride. “Please, help him.”
The dark man eyed him for a moment. “You Barnes, right?”
Bucky started at hearing his surname. No one used them much these days. It wasn’t like identity was a thing anymore.
“Yessir.” Bucky nodded, meeting his dark eyes as best he could.
The dark man nodded. “He said you’d lost the arm. I’m Nick Fury.”
Bucky blinked. He did know that name. Nick Fury led a lot of black ops. Bucky’d even done snipe for a few of them, though he’d never really met the man. Steve knew him pretty well since they traded men in assignments.
“Come on. Night fall approaches too fast. Anything in that cottage we don’t want those vultures getting their hands on?” the Archer quipped. Bucky swallowed. He may not be coming back. If they fell in with a band, finally, they were probably going to have to give up their home. Their everything would be the property of the band.
“There’s some weapons. Under th’ bed.” Bucky mumbled. “An’ m’ arm.” he whispered.
Fury cocked his head, but he’d apparently heard him as he nodded to the archer and then swept into the cabin.
Steve and Bucky had been lucky. When the disaster hit, they’d been on a 6-week long hiking trip. It was supposed to be a way to reconnect with each other after Steve’s honorable discharge. Bucky had completed his therapy for the new Stark Prosthetic he wore and they’d been trying to feel out their new edges as friends. The trip had been suggested by a friend of Steve’s and they had agreed that minimal human contact would be good for them both.
When the first restock location had been empty of people, they hadn’t thought too much about it. Their supplies had been there, so they’d collected and moved on, too happy to be left alone to question their luck. The second resupply had been more abandoned, though their supplies were also present. So were a few other groups’ that had clearly not been claimed. They’d hung around for a meal before giving up on the caretaker returning. It wasn’t until the 3rd resupply that they’d realized something was really wrong.
The news that the infrastructure had collapsed within a week of them entering the woods had been hard to swallow. Steve had turned on his satellite phone and retrieved what messages were in the buffer. The only one that had made it completely through had been from Bucky’s sister. Becca had said she’d gotten the youngest, Natasha out of the city before everything fell. The rest of them were trapped and unlikely to make it. Their parents hadn’t survived the initial wave. That message had been ten days old.
The two of them had gathered what supplies they could and retreated into the woods to wait out the winter. The next spring, when they surfaced and found that a few small trading locations had been set up, they learned the new order of things.
They’d been very lucky that first winter. But that summer a storm had come. Bucky had saved Steve from a tree falling, but the resultant damage to his prosthesis had been beyond his skills with engines and gears. They’d tied off the circuits as best they could and stashed the ruined remains in the cabin. That and the firearms were the only things of true value to others.
Fury knelt in front of him. “Will you come to join Iron Man? Will you let us save him?”
Bucky swallowed and looked down at Steve, barely conscious. And then he nodded.
And all went black.