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hello there friendos. this will end soon. the end is nye. bill nye.
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We were back on the road, but not for long. As we drove down the longest, most desolate highway the bike sputtered and we ran out of gas. As we slowed to a stop I groaned and yelled some not so nice words at the bike. I dismounted, my legs not cooperating, and fell to my knees. Pain flared in my thigh and shoulder. I resisted the urge to cry out from it and called for Bucky.
"Houston, we have a problem."
He just looked over to me and tilted his head. "I'm hurt you shít now get over here!" I yelled through clenched teeth.
He walked towards me and crouched to my level.
"Back there, the hydra facility. You kind of stabbed me. A lot. And now I can't walk. Big gash in my thigh. Wasn't a problem. Until now." I spoke in short sentences, trying to focus on continuing breathing. My head felt like it was being kicked repeatedly and my vision was slightly blurring. "We have to go somewhere, fix me up."
I looked up to his face and he nodded, scooping me up and holding me bridal style. I flushed red and tried to not think about it but failed. Bucky started to walk the direction we were headed and I sighed. This is going to be a long walk.
Despite what you may think, traveling through the desert is not a fun experience. For one, it's boring as fück. 30 minutes in I decided to make a pros and cons list. Here it is.
Pros:
•
Cons:
• Its hotter than a family of 12 in a minivan on a 9 hour car trip
• The amount of discomfort I felt was unreal. The sweat combined with the hot leather of Bucky's outfit was extremely uncomfortable.
• The lack of scenery makes me want to die. Looking at the same barren dirt road and horizon is so boring.
• The sweat that's getting into my stab wounds is stinging and blood is getting everywhere
That's my list, thank you.
~time skip brought to you by me, the trash can.~
I fell asleep after a few hours. I kept the complaints in my head though I knew Bucky could hear them. I could hear his thoughts now, too. He didn't have many, but they were mostly in response to things I thought. For example, "I'm so fücking hot I WANT TO DIE. I won't let you die that would be irresponsible." or "i wish you hadn't stabbed me earlier now I have blood all over and this was my favorite shirt. Sorry about that. I really wish I hadn't stabbed you either." He was really vague or bland when speaking, when he spoke. Er, thought. But I enjoyed having someone else know my thoughts without having to tell them. Well, not all of them.
After some time I awoke from a dream where I was at Walmart and the clerk wouldn't let me buy batteries and a dog bed because my money got denied. Like actual cash. Anyways, I was being jostled around and I was just kinda flopping around because I was unconscious. I opened my eyes to see a change of scenery. Instead of an empty endless expanse of dirt there were brick walls, windows, household furniture. We had to have made it to a town. I had been set down on a couch moments before but Bucky was nowhere to be seen. I tried to sit up but the way I was sleeping made my neck and back all sore plus my wounds were full of dirt so it was just general pain all over my body. I fell back down with a hiss and tried to asses my wounds. I had the two stab wounds; one in my shoulder one in my leg, various healing scars and cuts from whatever torture I had endured, various bruises and scrapes and maybe some deep enough cuts in my legs that they would need to be stitched. There was a throbbing pain in my back other than the pain from how I slept. As I reached a hand back there my fingers found the spot where the pain was coming from. Another hiss in pain as they skimmed the surface, going down slightly and making contact with something metal. What the frick? I'd been shot, and I didn't even notice it until now. The adrenaline rush from escape must have made me either forget or not feel it happen entirely. When I pulled my hand away it was covered in blood. Not good. I'd probably lost too much blood and this wasn't helping.
![The Pursuit of Perfection (A Bucky Barnes Fanfic) [Sequel to Winter Is Coming] by thecastlebuilder](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/46709206-80-k454078.jpg)
"Is that blood?"
Bucky had entered the room at some point and saw my hand covered in what he could only assume was my own blood. I turned my head to him and gave a slight nod.
"Bullet in my back. Didn't know until now, it hurt but I assumed it was just a bruise from before."
Bucky made his way to the couch where I was, setting some stuff down. It was a first aide kit and other assorted medical thingies like bandages and-is that a knife? I guess he had went to find stuff to fix me up. After setting everything on the floor beside the couch he quickly rushed out of the room. As quick as he left he was back with a large bowl of water and some towels. He rushed to my side, taking a towel and soaking it in the water before wiping my blood covered hand.
"Thanks." I breathed, letting out a groan and leaning my head back on the arm of the extremely outdated floral couch. "Did you find any pain meds? I could really use some right about now."
"Yeah but we should clean and bandage the wounds first." He stated, putting the towel in his lap.
I nodded, propping myself up on my elbows and reaching for the bottom of my shirt. I had been wearing a black, long-sleeve shirt that was now in tatters and stained with my blood. I tried to pull my arm out of the sleeve but my injured shoulder made my arm useless and unmovable. At that moment I saw the glint of the earlier mentioned knife and panicked. He's not saving me he's killing me GOD WHY. I pinched my eyes shut and heard the knife tear through fabric, instead of my skin. I opened my eyes and looked down to see Bucky cutting my shirt with the knife.
"I couldn't find any scissors." He mumbled while continuing the process. After a minute he had cut through the seams of the arms and down the sides so my shirt could come off with less pain. After all the material was moved off of me I was left in just my bra. It didn't seem to bother Bucky and if it didn't bother him it didn't bother me. He grabbed the towel and wetted it once again before starting to clean my cuts. It stung, really bad as most of them were fresh or reopened. He dug through the first aide kit and pulled out some antiseptic. He doused a small rag he had brought out and carefully applied it to all the cuts on my stomach. It burned like hell and it took all I had not to scream. He moved up to my neck and shoulder and went through that process again. But this time he pulled out a needle and some floss.
"The shoulder cut is pretty deep. For it to heal I'm going to have to stitch it up. This is what we have." He said, not really showing any emotion.
"Just get it on with." I grimaced, bracing myself.
He very carefully threaded the needle with the floss and approached my shoulder. He warned me before puncturing my skin with the needle and starting to sew up the stab wound. At this point I had nothing left to hold back my pained screams and groans. It hurt like a bitch. It took a little bit to seal it, Buck had been doing small, tight stitches. When he finally finished he cleaned it off with the wet towel and doused it in antiseptic once more. There were tears flowing freely down my face now. The pain was so sharp and agonizing that I couldn't think of anything else. He proceeded to bandage my shoulder tightly before sitting me up to do my back.
The bullet was really the only thing to be concerned about as my back was on the table the whole time so they couldn't get to it. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and told me to brace myself. He, quickly as he could, pulled the bullet out and cleaned the wound. That hurt pretty bad as well, but not as much as the stitching. There was so much blood, It was dripping down my back. He put pressure on it with a wet cloth, causing me to scream loudly. He quickly applied a wad of gauze and bandaged it around my abdomen. He then moved down to my legs, probably the worst of it all. Not only did I have the stab wound (the deeper of the two) there, but I also had many slices that would need sewing too. Along with the bruises it was going to suck major donkey dick. So he got to work, removing my sticky with blood jeans, cleaning and stitching, and occasionally stopping to comfort me and wipe the tears off my face. It was terrible to say the least. After everything was done I was drained emotionally, mentally, nearly physically. So much blood was lost that the once ugly floral couch was now stained with blood and I was feeling a bit woozy. Bucky said something to me that I didn't catch before quickly disappearing. My vision was fading and I was breathing heavily, lying now on the floor as not not get my blood from the couch on my body. The cool hardwood floor felt nice on my back and I closed my eyes. It's a great time for a rest, I deserve it. Silence filled the room and I started to slowly drift off, sleep coming over me like the waves in the ocean over the shoreline. I imagined a beach,then. The lulling sound of crashing waves hitting the beach. The warm sunset all over me. And I fell into a state of peace and unconsciousness.
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So there's this chapter. Soz that it's kinda short, I tried to make it longer but this is a good spot to end the chapter. I rewrote this like twelve times because I couldn't get it to do what I wanted. But ye. more soon.
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