When we finally reached the car, Bucky gentlemanly helped me climb into the passenger seat. Once I was as comfortable as possible, I felt the urge for sleep wash over me.
As Bucky started the car and cranked up the heat, I mumbled, “Hey uh…I don’t want Dashner to uh see me like this.”
“He told me you were persistent to go.” The corner of his mouth tugged up into a half smile.
My stomach flipped. It was the first I had seen of any kind of smile coming from him. I had to admit it was quite charming. I slunk down in my seat, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment, as if he could hear my thoughts.
As we drove, I noticed that he drove only with his good arm. Before I could question him, a chilling sleep tugged away my ability to stay awake.
When I woke up, my face was rested against Bucky’s chest. My apartment unfolded as he carried me through to the couch. I glanced up at him, not knowing whether to smile with gratitude, or raise an eyebrow in puzzlement. I settled with neither, realizing that he had simply been doing what he sent to do: protect me.
I then closed my eyes again, pretending to still be asleep. I felt him gingerly lay me on the couch, placing a soft pillow beneath my head. Something warm and soft was laid over my body, wrapping me in delightful warmth.
I heard footsteps walk away from me, then a groan of pain. I opened my eyes and peeked at him. He had his back to me, his good arm clutching his metal arm. I searched for blood, but there was none. Something was wrong.
“Hey, you alright?” I called out, giving up my act.
He whipped around, quickly letting go of his metal arm. “You’re awake…” He said, as if talking to himself. He bent down beside the couch and locked his gaze with mine. This time I didn’t mind. I wanted to know what was running through his mind. But, as I searched, I found a wall, blocking me from his thoughts.
“Is your arm alright?” I half demanded.
“Oh yes, it’s fine. Just a little sore,” he answered, his gaze flitting away from mine. “You…you have a fever. I’m guess you don’t want Dashner to be aware of that.”
A weak smile spread across my face. “No, not really.” I coughed and trembled, still freezing, but sweating profusely.
“I—I can stay if you’d like,” Bucky offered. “You know, seeing that you can’t move much.”
I suddenly didn’t want him there. His care had been more than enough.
“No, you need rest too. You can do me one more favor though.”
“Yes?”
“Will you ask my sister to come see me?”
“Of course. Grace Stanton, right?”
“Yeah…and um, thank you…for saving my life.” Our eyes met again.
He was silent for a moment. It looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he stuck with, “You’re welcome.”
And with that my rescuer, my life saver, and my best friend’s murderer left. But maybe the Captain was right. The Winter Soldier had killed Bucky too.
Maybe.
And maybe Bucky was slowly coming back to life.