She was pacing distractedly behind me, ranting quietly to herself, but I could hear her loud and clear thanks to my serum enhanced senses. I waited at the edge of the alley, hidden in the shadows, scanning the street for potential threats before we moved again. She had forced me to stop, sweating and panting, cursing me for making her run for so long and hard. I had forgotten that she wasn't like me, she was a normal person, she would need rest, especially after running for 13 blocks, and I had finally relented and ducked her into an alley to take a breather I didn't need. I had been too preoccupied with getting her to safety to think about the fact that she might need rest.
"This is exactly why I didn't want to date because just my luck I sleep with the guy who has Russians after him that want to also kill me now," she muttered to herself, talking to no one in particular. I figured this was how she was coping with the stress, scolding herself. "I should have known. I should have known. I am going to kill Iris for this!"
I leaned against the bricks and winced as pain shot through my side. I reached into my jacket, touching my lower right side where the pain was centered, pulling my flesh hand back to see blood smeared against my fingers. That bastard must have hit me after Jade had taken off, he had pulled a gun on me and I hadn't gotten the second shot off quick enough before he had fired, the one that hit him right in the chest. I hadn't waited to see if he was truly dead, I had to get to Jade before she ran too far. I knew there was another team in the area, a back up if the first wasn't successful. That was standard procedure, they never sent just one team, unless it was me. It was them that I was looking for now. They wouldn't stop unless they got to her or me. I knew the bullet was still inside, I could feel it, the adrenaline rushing through me the only thing making the pain tolerable. I wouldn't start to heal until it came out, but I couldn't get it out until I got her to safety.
"Jade."
She hadn't stopped pacing and was still muttering to herself. "I just wanted to go home and watch Stranger Things and eat ice cream. Is that too much to ask? Is it really too much to ask to not almost be kidnapped?"
"Jade."
She continued to ignore me, making me push off the wall and walk to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing eye contact. She tensed when I touched her, looking up at me with wide panicked eyes, her mouth hanging open slightly. I tried to keep my face and voice soft, knowing that she was panicked and terrified, that I had effectively turned her life upside down which was the exact reason that I had planned to stay away.
"Jade," I repeated again. "Listen to me very carefully. We have to keep moving. I have to get you off the street before the second team finds us. Okay?" She nodded slowly looking dazed. I wasn't sure if she had actually heard anything I said. "It's going to be okay," I promised trying to ease her fears. "I wont let anything happen to you."
She blinked, like she was seeing me for the first time, her face setting into a frown. "This isn't me. I can't do this. I am not Bruce Willis. I can't be Bruce Willis. I cannot fight off villains, Russian or otherwise."
I really wanted to ask her who Bruce Willis was, figuring he must be some hero from this time period, but it was not the time. I had to get her moving again. I had to circle back so we could get to Steve's motorcycle. There was a rendevouz location for these exact situations, a safe house, a motel just outside the city, room A1; it would have medical supplies, food, weapons, and cash stashed there. It was something that I had set up with Steve when I had finally come home after being on ice, knowing that even though I was mostly better, I had been one of Hydra's best assets and they wouldn't let me go. I was so used to running, hiding, trying to be free. The possibility that I would need to run again had never left my mind. I had to get her to that motel, to safety, and call in to Steve for back up and extraction.
"Jade, I got you okay?" I assured again, I dared to touch her cheek, hearing her heart skip a beat when I did, the smoothness of her skin was soft against my palm. "I'll be Bruce Willis."
She laughed, the sound sputtering from her lips as if she had been trying to hold it in, looking surprised as she did, like she couldn't believe she was laughing this situation. "Don't make me laugh right now!" She growled reigning in her laughter. "I am still mad at you for bringing Hans Gruber into my life dammit." Who? "Wait, Hans Gruber was German..." she said to herself, shaking her head. "I mean some other Russian villain whose name I cant think of right now!"
I shook my head at her and the references I didn't understand, chuckling softly to myself, wincing when I felt pain again at my movement. "Well can you be angry and run at the same time?"I asked her.
She scowled at me.
I smiled at her in spite of it. "Let's go."
I took her hand again and she let me, holding my aching side while we ran, hoping she wouldn't notice. We circled back, ducking through alleys and keeping to the shadows as I kept a watchful eye on the streets and our surroundings. I had ditched the assault rifle, holding it would bring way too much attention to our selves, but it had left me weaponless. I didn't want to have to engage any enemies, not without a weapon, not with her clinging desperately to my hand, not when I was injured. Just get her somewhere safe. Call Steve. Wait for extraction. You'll both be fine, I told myself.
"James," she panted behind me, making me turn to find her light brown skin looking rather pale and sweat dripping down it. She looked exhausted. Her feet struggling to maintain my pace. "Can...we...slow...down..forgodsake!" She groaned between breaths.
"No," I said regrettably. We were almost there. I couldn't risk slowing down.
She whined in protest, but kept up with me, even as I rounded the corner and tugged her another three blocks and through one more alley. I slowed when I saw Steve's motorcycle right where I had parked it; I stopped completely and turned to her, wrapping my arm around her waist, drawing her in, keeping my head chin down before I pulled her along out of the alley right into the crowd walking down the street, hugging her to me as though we were any other normal couple.
"Keep your head down, stay close, we're almost there," I said softly to her, making sure to stay vigilant, my eyes doing continuous sweeps around us.
She nodded, wrapping her arm around my waist making me wince as her hand grazed my wound. I felt her gasp, trying to stop walking, but I forced her along. "James, you're bleeding!" She whispered, leaning forward to see under my coat where the blood was starting to soak through my shirt. She looked up at me with wide eyes.
"I know," I answered ignoring the worry on her face. "I'm fine. Keep walking."
"You are most certainly not fine. I don't even know how you are standing right now. You're losing a lot of blood. We need to take you to a hospital-."
"Just keep moving, Jade," I said.
"James-."
"Just keep moving," I repeated, cutting her off.
She was frowning again though she said nothing, I did feel her press herself against me allowing me to use her as a brace to walk, pushing the smallest amount of weight on her alleviated some of the pain with every step I took. She looked up at me wordlessly, her eyebrows going up, asking a silent question. Is this helping? I nodded once and went back to watching our surroundings, cutting across the street once we neared Steve's motorcycle. I saw her hesitate as we reached it, finally releasing her to grab the helmet hanging from the handlebars and hand it to her. She looked at it warily.
"I have never ridden a motorcycle, James," she said staring at the helmet in her hands.
"Put the helmet on Jade," I said softly, swinging my leg over the bike and sitting on it.
She hesitated once more, looking around nervously before pulling it on over her head. I knew it'd be a little big on her, but she needed it in case things got crazy on the ride. I offered my hand to her which she took, helping her climb on the motorcycle behind me, silently showing her where to hold onto me, my upper body away from the still bleeding wound on my side, before starting the motorcycle up. She jumped at the loud sound, but didn't squeeze me too tightly, conscious of my wound and the pain I was in. I revved the engine once and then took off into the New York traffic, riding easily between cars.
***
I could barely see out of the damn helmet. And I had no idea where I was going or why I was trusting this man I barely knew who was mostly likely the reason I was in this mess in the first place, but what choice did I have? I didn't have my phone. I didn't have a car. And some people were trying to kidnap and/or kill me and the only person that had stood in their way so far had been Bucky. So all I could do was hold onto him, periodically glancing behind us as we rode down the streets of New York, taking me to a location that I didn't know, and hope and pray we made it there in one piece and sorted this mess out.
I felt a hint of relief when we made it to the freeway, thinking that if we had made it this far, there was no way that we would be followed, but when I looked over my shoulder for the 10th time, unable to stop the impulse whenever it came over me, I saw the black van speedily approaching from behind one lane to the right. My heart rate sped up and I used my hand to pat Bucky's chest, too scared to release my hold on him.
"There's a van!" I shouted over the rumble of the engine. "It's the black van!" It came out muffled and soft from the helmet, the sound of the engine drowning me out, but somehow he had heard me, his head whipping back to see.
He muttered something I didn't hear and turned the handlebar, making the motorcycle roar loudly before picking up speed, lurching us forward. I shrieked, holding onto Bucky tighter, the side of the helmet pressed against his back, my eyes shut tight.
Please god don't let me die on this motorcycle. I'll do anything. I'll start going to church like my momma told me too. I'll even tithe. Just please don't let me die a painful motorcycle crash death.
I chanced looking behind us, seeing the van was much closer, and recognizing my kidnapper in the driver seat. I felt my face fall, my body going rigid when I saw him lift a gun, aiming it at the window, right at us. I didn't get the chance to warn Bucky, the gun shot rang out, sending a spark shooting up from ground where the bullet hit right near us. Bucky swerved, changing lanes, making me dig my fingers into his muscular flesh, almost sending us both right off the bike until he straightened it again. There were more gun shots, but I couldn't look back, thankful that I didn't hear any hit the bike or feel any hit me or Bucky. I shut my eyes again and tucked my body into Bucky's as much as I could, trying to become a smaller target, silently praying, listening to the sounds of gunshots missing and ricocheting near, the sounds of car horns honking and tires screeching, and feeling the bike swerve left and right and left again.
"Hold on!" I heard him yell making me grip him even tighter, hearing his pained hiss, and feeling his body tense at the increased pressure.
The bike swerved to the right hard, forcing me to open my eyes and see us taking an exit at the last possible second, nearly hitting a red corolla, the driver honking angrily. My head whipped around quickly, catching sight of the black van speeding past, still on the free way having missed the exit. Bucky didn't slow down at all, not bothering to stop at the red light at the intersection off the exit, weaving between the cars passing through which got a scared shriek out of me. He didn't slow down until we were well outside the city, to the point that I hadn't seen a car in ten minutes and we were in a dark wooded area.
In the distance I saw neon light, a large sign blinking 'MOTEL: VACANCY'. Oh god he's taking me to the Norman Bates motel in the middle of nowhere, I couldn't help, but think it as he circled the building and came to a stop in the empty area in the back of the motel. He turned off the engine and put the kick stand in place, I could feel his heart pounding with my hands that were still locked around his chest.
"Jade," I heard him say through the helmet, his blue eyes turning to find me over his shoulder.
"Y-yeah?"
"You can let go now, doll," he said, one of his hands coming to touch mine.
"Oh," I blurted, removing my hands from him slowly, seeing that they were shaking now that they had nothing to hold on to. My heart was pounding as well, my breath coming out in pants, and it was unbelievably hot inside the helmet.
He slipped off the bike with a noticeable wince, turning to offer me a helpful hand. I almost huffed at him, thinking that it should be me helping him considering that he was the one bleeding, but took the hand anyway, climbing off the bike and pulling the helmet off. He took it from my hands and placed it on the motorcycle before taking my hand and pulling me to follow him. I took in his hunched posture, the way he winced and limped with each step and quickly moved to his side, putting his arm over my shoulder, letting him put some of his weight on me. I was surprised that he was even conscious, that he had even managed to drive this whole time and somehow avoid both of us dying in a freeway high speed chase. Any normal man would have been dead already, but I got the feeling that James Buchanan Barnes was no ordinary man.
We rounded the building, stopping at the first room on the end, far from the other rooms and the main office and seeing that instead of a key lock there was a pin pad in its place. Bucky leaned against the wall near the door, lifting a shaking and bloodied hand and pressed the four digit pin into the door. I could hear the locks disengage and I pushed the door open quickly reaching in to flick on the lights before taking Bucky's weight again to help him into the room, kicking the door shut behind me.
It looked like any normal motel room, it had a large queen sized bed, a tv and dressed and table with chairs, there was a kitchenette, an open closet with double doors and a closed door that I assumed led to the bathroom. I didn't get the chance to truly take in my complete surroundings before Bucky was nearly stumbling on his feet, leaving me to struggle to at least get him to the bed. He landed very ungracefully on his back, no thanks to me, wincing in pain and allowing me to see in the light just how pale he looked.
I pushed him back to a laying position when he tried to get up, moving his jacket and lifting his shirt, seeing the bullet wound and the fresh and dried blood around it. His clothes were soaked with his blood. "Shit, James, we should have taken you to the hospital. We have got to stop this bleeding and somehow get this bullet out."
He shook his head, gritting his teeth. "There's medical supplies, in the ceiling, 3rd tile, second row from the front wall," he said hoarsely pointing to the ceiling.
I rose to my feet, slipping my messenger bag that had somehow managed to stay on this whole time off my shoulders and dropping it to the floor. I went for one of the chairs at the table, counting the tiles of the ceiling before setting the chair underneath it and stepping on it. I barely reached the ceiling, having to jump and use my finger tips to push the tile up and move it out of the way. It was a struggle to maintain my balance and jump high enough to grab the edge of the large black duffel up there, barely grasping the long strap and tugging it down. I jumped out of the way as the bag came tumbling down, huge and heavy, hitting the floor with a loud thud.
I knelt beside the bag, unzipped it quickly, opening it to find a barrage of items inside, including two large weapons that made me hesitate. I ignored them, digging inside for the medical supplies instead, pushing past clothes and bottled waters and food and rolled up and rubber banded wads of money. I found a smaller black bag inside, yanking it out and opening it to find it filled with medical equipment including gloves, gauze, bandages, forceps, alcohol and a suture kit.
Everything you would need if you were shot, I thought with a raised eyebrow.
"I got it," I called jumping to my feet and turning back to the bed, freezing when I saw Bucky unconscious on the bed. "Shit!" I rushed to his side. "James! James! Oh my god don't you dare die on me and leave me all alone in this situation that's clearly your fault!" I growled.
I touched the side of his neck, checking his carotid artery for a pulse, sighing in relief when I found one. It wasn't faint, in fact it was pretty strong for someone who had lost as much as blood as he had, making me wonder again just what the hell was keeping him alive. I donned gloves quickly, pouring alcohol on the forceps and thinking briefly to myself that it was a good thing that he had passed out, it would save him from the pain of me digging around inside of him for the bullet.
He didn't move through the ten minutes that it took for me to dig out the bullet, or the following twenty minutes of me applying pressure until the bleeding subsided enough for me to clean and suture the wound, thankful that in my experience working in the trauma ER and then pediatrics. I was well adept to putting in stitches. I bandaged the wound and finally let go of the breath that I hadn't even realized I had been holding. Checking his pulse once more and sighing in relief to feel that it was still pretty strong, I situated him more comfortably on the bed, putting his head on a pillow.
My hands were shaking again as I pulled my gloves off and gathered up the bloodied trash and discarded it into the garbage can. I stood in the middle of the room, staring at Bucky's unconscious body, hoping that eventually he would wake up and wondering just what the hell I was supposed to do now. I heard a faint ringing in Bucky's coat pocket, startling me and prompting me to check him for his phone. It continued to ring as I stared down at the name on the screen. Steve. If I couldn't trust Captain America then who could I trust? I answered it and put it to my ear slowly hearing Steve's voice before I even offered a greeting.
"Bucky? Are you okay? I got an alert that someone accessed the safe house was that you?"
I hesitated. "Captain Am-er I mean Steve-."
He cut me off before I could finish. "Who is this?"
"It's Jade...you know...the one night stand girl..."
There was a brief pause. "Jade, where is Bucky?"
"He's here...there's uh...there's been a... situation..."