The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Forty five

The urge to vomit is immense.

Blackness claws at the edges of my vision as a white hot pain erupts from my left shoulder, a small metal pellet embedding itself in my flesh.

I'm sure a scream escapes my lips but I hear nothing, the agonising torment drowning out all other senses as it overloads every nerve in my body.

Shit.

My legs give way under me, allowing me to slide ungracefully to the floor. I land with a jarring thump, the impact only making the pain worse. Despite the delirious nausea building in the back of my throat, I try to force my brain to form a coherent thought.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, I tuck myself closer against the tree shielding me from Ilenova. With great effort I manage to reach the final pistol strapped to my back with my right arm, my left now unusable. Squeezing the gun violently in my hand, I force deep breathes in and out of my lungs despite the sharp stabbing that racks my body with each inhale.

The air helps a little, allowing me some form of control over my scattered mind.

The footsteps approaching leave me stone cold sober, a sudden fear crashing through my already burning veins.

Chest heaving with shallow breathes - the best I can manage against the agony in my shoulder - I hold the black pistol in a shaking hand. My eyes are on the mosaic of leaves above my head as the feet step cautiously closer.

I count the deafening thumping of my heart once, twice, three times.

Now.

Gritting my teeth to stop myself crying out, I twist around to face the forest behind my tree trunk, the feeling of blood running down my back almost sickening.

My eyes meet first the barren expanse of two grey eyes, then the black void of the muzzle aimed at my chest.

Bang.

I flinch, waiting for the volcano of agony to erupt as the bullet drives a hole straight through my torso.

But it doesn't come.

Ilenova falls to the ground, clutching his thigh against the pellet Bucky just embedded in his flesh. The super soldier discards his gun and is on the Sergeant in a movement that is too fast for my delirious eyes to pick up on, the silver of his arm slipping around the other man's neck.

Both men are of similar stature, with obvious muscles and Herculean figures, yet the super soldier makes quick work of overpowering his injured opponent. Ilenova writhes helplessly in the chokehold Bucky inflicts, his grip on consciousness becoming more and more tenuous as his scarred face turns purple.

Those haunting grey eyes remain fixed on mine long after his eyelids droop, the image burned into my brain.

Bucky releases his grip as soon as the soldier goes limp in his arms, rolling him over onto his stomach and cuffing first his wrists together and then his ankles. He pauses briefly to inspect the hole in the man's thigh before his wide blue eyes find mine, flashing with something as they take in my slumped figure.

He's at my side in an instant.

"Are you ok?"

His concerned gaze takes over my body, searching for injuries. I let out a sigh through gritted teeth, trying to fight the dizziness swarming my mind.

"Peachy." I spit, swallowing back bile.

Grunting with the effort, I force my limbs to move while taking care to keep my shoulder as still as possible. Bucky reaches out a hand to grip my arm, pulling me easily to my feet.