I'm Here | ?

30 - Pitfall

"You're just gonna have to hold on for a second, Stevie, I'm gonna get you," I whisper to no one. I slip my right arm through the shield straps and grab a metal snack display that was tipped over next to me, throwing it as hard as I could at one of my attackers. I heard a screech, and now I was down to three.

I stood and twisted, throwing the shield at someone else with practiced ease. I flipped out of the way of more bullets, sliding behind another display. The shield took out two, and I counted rounds, waiting for the telltale click of an empty magazine. I grinned when I heard it, and a frustrated yell. I launched myself off the wall, tackling the last man and slamming his head into the floor with my right hand. His eyes fluttered closed and I stood up, panting, surveying the damage.

I heard Steve's voice in my head. This isn't your fault. You did what you had to do to defend yourself. And for the first time, I feel myself actually believing it. I don't enjoy doing harm, but I didn't instigate this fight.

I step on the shield, flipping it easily into the air and catching it on my right arm. I hesitate for a moment before grabbing a dropped pistol and an extra clip from the ground. I reload as I go, sprinting down the dark hallway.

There's a door cracked open, light on, moaning come from the inside. I throw myself inside, ready to kill whoever I have to so I can save Steve, but instead, I'm overwhelmed with pain and I drop hard to the floor, seizing.

My vision is blurred, but I can see Steve shoved against the opposite wall. There are six men in black uniforms all standing around, rifles at the ready. One stands next to Steve, and seeing that I'm watching, he touches him with a metal stick. Steve instantly goes rigid and I can hear an electrical cracking noise in between his groans of agony. They're electrocuting him. Why did you have to bring him into this?

The pain starts to fade, and I roll over onto my elbows. My body protests but I push through it, grappling for the gun I dropped when I fell. I feel a kick to my ribs, and then the same man that electrocuted Steve stands over me, a sick grin on his face.

"Fuck... you..." I pant, and he gives a small chuckle before stabbing me with the metal device. Fire courses through my body, and I crumble back to the ground, trembling against my will. I'd rather it be me than Steve.

"You think you can just lock up Zemo and discard us so easily, ja?" One of the men asks in a thick Sokovian accent. "You can kill our men, take our freedoms, turn Hydra's asset into a mortal? You do not know how this game works, then. Let us teach you." I'm stabbed again and I curl into a ball, defenseless and dying.

"We were the only ones willing to do what it took to get money in a failing society. The captain here was never supposed to be found, and Hydra's agent was so close to belonging to us."

"It's Bucky," I spit. They stab me again, and I grind my teeth together, trying to suppress a scream.

"Please," the man continues, snarling. "You've been the Winter Soldier longer than you've been James Barnes. No matter what you do, you'll still be a killing machine."

A gunshot goes off, and I think this is the end. I wait for the pain to hit. Please, someone, end this.

The man falls to the floor next to me, but I barely realize it. I'm still reeling from the electricity. We make eye contact, but his are blank. My mind is foggy, and it takes me a very long time to realize exactly what is going on.

More gunshots go off as I'm staring, and then the changing of metal, but soon, everything is still, and I can kind of move my foot a little. I can't take my eyes off the dead man in front of me. I can feel his blood soaking my shirt, but I'm unscathed.

"I've about had it with long, dramatic speeches." Steve declares. He's out of breath, and I hear him stumble a step. The gun clatters to the ground. I want to say something, anything, but I can't move. I can barely think.

I feel his hands on my shoulder and he pulls me onto my back. My head lolls to the side, but I look at him. He's bleeding. Steve, you need to patch that up. But my lips won't move.

"C'mon," he says, barely more than a shaky whisper. He puts his hands on my chin, lifting my head up. It's okay, I'm okay, you need to get help. I'll be okay. I groan, and Steve smiles. "C'mon, you got it, please, we have to go." He tucks his arms behind my back and pulls me to a sitting position. I stiffen, still feeling like I'm going to fall backward, but I'm able to support myself, kind of.

I stare around at all the bodies, surprised I'm not among them. Steve used a gun? I almost can't believe it. It takes everything I have, but with Steve's whispered encouragement, I twist my legs under myself. Steve pulls me to my feet, and even though my knees won't hold me, he can. He half-drags me through the hall until I can take small steps, and even then, he has to guide me out to the door, because if he lets go, I'm certainly going to pitch forward.

Someone grunts behind us, and Steve kicks blindly. I recognize the sound of a skull hitting the tile, and the noise stops as the man falls unconscious or worse. Steve fishes in his pocket for a moment, unlocking the car and ripping open the passenger door. He helps me in gently, and my head tips against the back of the seat. He reaches over to buckle me in, pressing a small kiss to my lips as he does. "You're gonna be okay," and then he shuts the door. He slides into the driver's seat and starts the car, backing out of the parking space recklessly and speeding down the nearly empty road.

"Steve..." My lips are numb, but I can form his name well enough. He glances over at me, concerned.

"Are you okay? Can you move?" I pull my right hand into my lap for confirmation, stretching my fingers. My head is still fuzzy and I can't exactly see straight. Have you ever been able to see straight? You've been in love with Steve your entire life. I mentally tell myself to shut up with gay jokes.

"Are you okay?" My words are slurred, but I need to know.

"Yeah. I guess my serum works better than yours. Sorry."

So we're just not going to talk about how we were fucking ambushed and I didn't notice that Steve was nearly kidnapped and used as bait so the agents could torture and kill me? We're not going to talk about how I'm half-paralyzed and ten goons somehow figured out our location?

Apparently not. Steve asked me how I was every few minutes. My nerves were still humming and I was sore, but by the time we pulled up to the motel, I had a full range of motion and I only slurred my speech a little. He put his arm around me and helped me out of the car, stumbling towards the doors. They opened automatically. I winced at the high pitched whine. We tripped inside, the woman at the front desk gasping. We were probably quite a sight, Steve with blood dripping down his face and me, struggling to walk, unsure of who was supporting who at this point. What a chaotic relationship. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Okay, maybe a few seconds of fucking peace and quiet would be nice.

"Don't call anyone," Steve hissed at the woman, the phone halfway to her ear. She froze. "We'll be fine. Just don't, you'll put us all in danger."

She put the phone down, looking terrified.

We stumble awkwardly to the room, and I check to make sure we're not being followed. "What the fuck just happened?" I whisper, limping down the hallway.