Summary: A mission goes south
***
You had readied yourself for this situation but no amount of preparation could prepare you for the real deal. Death hadn't been something you were afraid of and even as you laid on the ground bleeding out, it wasn't what you were afraid of.
No, it was the man clutching your hand tightly as if it was his lifeline, tears making the blue's of his eyes look even more like the ocean, fear edged on every crevice of his face. You were afraid, not of him, but for him.
If you had learned anything in the last few months it was just how fragile Bucky Barnes was and how hard he tried to keep it together to simply function in his day to day life. This information wasn't something you stumbled upon but was rather carefully given to you as he grew more trustful, as he began to trust you.
You had seen him tremble with fear when his nightmares struck him at night, you had seen him beginning to smile genuinely and enjoying small things such as writing his thoughts down and you had now seen him at his most vulnerable, scared out of his minds as he tried to desperately stop the bleeding.
"Stay with me! Don't you dare close your eyes on me," he pleaded as he waited for the quinjet to come pick you up. "Not much longer, doll."
It was beginning to get harder to breathe, not that you cared, only focusing on taking Bucky in for the last time. You hoped he could get over your death quickly, not letting it affect him in the long run. That would be the optimal future but you knew better than to think that. His heart was too big to simply let you fade away.
"I can't breathe," you gasped fingers flailing to your throat to try and open up your airways that slowly filled with blood.
"It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay," he whispered softly to you, carding his hand through your hair, repeating the words as if to also reassure himself.
"Don't c-cry," you whispered willing your body to use some of your last strength to dry away some of his tears. "I'll be right here with you," your hand fell to his chest patting the area over his heart. "Always."
He bit his lip willing the quinjet to fly a little faster. This wasn't the end for you, it couldn't be. You had helped him in more ways that you could possibly know and if you were gone he would never get the chance to reciprocate or even tell you how much you meant to him.
Your hand fell to your side as your vision grew spotty, stars dancing in your line of vision.
"Hey! Keep your eyes open, they'll be here any minute." This couldn't be happening. You weren't supposed to be lying here in a pool of your own blood, you were supposed to be cracking some joke as you fought off enemies, you were supposed to be full of life.
"Always," you croaked before you succumbed to the darkness.
"No, no, no," he muttered frantically shaking your shoulders, "Open your eyes! Goddammit Y/N! Open your eyes!"
Grief-stricken he let his arms fall to his side, your blood covering his suit and painting the snow around you red. He let out a mournful cry before falling quiet. This was his fault. His fault. His fault. The mantra repeated inside his brain.
That's how the other's found you, Bucky sitting on his knees staring blankly at your body, no sign of emotion on his face.
Always.
His fault.
