Pain.
It hurt.
Everything...everything hurt...
Bucky?
Where...
What happened?
She was...cold.
So...
cold...
And it hurt.........................................................................................................................................
The sky...
She was looking at...the sky...
Where was she?
Bucky?
She was cold...
So... cold...
Snow.
She was laying in snow...
She needed... she needed... she needed to... move...
She would.... frostbite... she needed...
but she was tired....
... tired....
She...
wanted to sleep...
Just... for...
A moment...
Voices.
She heard voices.
Her eyelids were so heavy....
She struggled to open them...
Haze.
Faces... dim.... out of focus...
Voices... dull... so... far away...
Bucky...
***
There were only flashes after that.
The sensation of being carried...
The bumping, jolting motion of a vehicle.
The return of pain. It came in waves hot, sharp bursts that radiated through her side and shoulder, like knives cutting into her flesh. In the rest of her body it was dull, and unyielding, a steady throb of never-ending anguish. It felt as if all her bones were shattered, just a mass of broken bits rattling about in a bag of flesh.
She was vaguely aware, at times, of a hard table under her back and rough hands and voices putting her back together, of screaming until she lost her voice, until the only thing that came out was a harsh, guttural croak... until she finally, blessedly, would fall back unconscious.
But it never lasted.
She always woke up again.
Always.
***
She was hot.
Hot.
It felt like she was on fire, liquid flame running through her veins.
She couldn't breathe. She struggled to pull in air but there was none... and it was so hot...
Voices.
Ice cold water surrounded her and she panicked, lashing out. Hands grabbed her, holding her head up, above the water, but keeping her body under.
A mask was fitted over her face, cool oxygen flooding into her lungs and she grabbed it in desperation, sucking in one deep breath, and then another.
The adrenaline faded and she sagged into the water, hand falling away from the mask. The fire in her veins banked to a dull warmth and the brief clarity gave way back to the fog.
Bucky.
***
"I can't believe she survived. It's not natural."
"Have you seen who you work for?"
A laugh. "True enough. It's amazing what you can get used to."
"Speak for yourself."
A table.
She was laying on... a table.
It was hard underneath her back and legs.
She felt... pain, but not to the degree she had been feeling it. It was a dull ache, a sharp blade here and there... but not what it had been.
"Bucky."
The word was a rasp, her lips dry and cracked, her throat dry.
"Bucky."
"There she goes again."
"Who or what the hell is Bucky?"
"Damned if I know. Maybe it's her dog."
Another laugh. "She's barely conscious and you think she's calling for her dog?"
"Hey, I don't judge. Some people love their pets. What else could it be?"
"Maybe it's that shield."
"You think she named it Bucky? Why?"
"People are weird. Who knows why they do anything that they do?"
"True."
White ceiling overhead. Bright lights shining in her eyes.
Two faces leaning over her, one on either side.
Not Bucky.
Didn't know... who Bucky was...
One leaned closer and she willed her hand to raise and wrap around his throat. She couldn't... let the enemy... live. She forgot why... but it was important. She had... had to...
There was a hand wrapped around the man's throat.
A hand... but it wasn't hers...
It was... silver... metal...
What?
The second form moved closer and a mask was held over her nose and mouth. A sweet smell flooded her nostrils...
The silver hand dropped...and darkness carried her away..............................................................