verb.
To fall back under pressure. To shrink back physically or emotionally.
noun.
The kickback of a gun upon firing.
•
It takes a stubborn mind to cling to their humanity when the world seeks to strip it away.
It takes a desperate soul to reach f...
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"Bucky- Buck hold on-"
It was all a frantic blur, bundling the two bloodied men into the Quinjet. Every aching injury on Kat's body was forgotten in those hectic seconds, minutes – hell, it could have been hours. There were moments when it felt like hours.
The nauseating moment in which her eyes had landed on the ruined stump of Bucky's left arm had felt like it had lasted an eternity.
Sheer adrenaline had taken over her body, so much so that she barely remembered the steps she had taken to get them into the jet. She hardly recalled a word Steve had said as she had helped him lay Bucky on the bench they had sat upon together hours ago. She completely missed his brief exchange with T'Challa, occupied as she was with taking in their injuries.
She did however, understand Steve's abrupt explanation for the state of Bucky's arm. Stark.
That was enough for her to process, for now.
Steve looked awful; bloody and beaten, the hopeful light in his eyes utterly extinguished by whatever had passed between himself and Stark, but he was walking, talking, functioning.
Bucky... Bucky looked destroyed. Barely conscious, he had clung to Steve right up to the moment Kat had knelt in front of where he had slumped on the bench, cradling his face in her palms with feather-light touches, openly wincing as her eyes took in what looked like a fractured cheekbone. It looked as if he had been kicked in the face, and Stark hadn't exactly been wearing satin slippers.
"Bucky, hey- Buck? Look at me." She choked out, watching as his eyes slid in and out of focus, staring past her blearily as Steve scrambled for every piece of medical equipment they had in the jet. "Bucky, it's alright, you're safe – I've got you." She could see, even past the clear concussion that clouded his awareness, the fear was there. The instinct to lash out only hampered by the fact that he could barely move his limbs.
"Kat..."
A flicker of realisation crossed his bloodied features as his eyes settled on her, his slurred murmur of her name drawing a mist of tears to her eyes as she nodded, desperately trying to keep him calm. She could see that desperate need to fight against whatever was causing him such crippling pain slipping away as he realised where he was. When he could see who was in front of him – Kat could only hope that her own features weren't bruised and beaten beyond recognition after her fight with Josef.
"Yeah handsome, I'm right here." She sniffed, nodding as she soothed one hand over his straggling hair. "I need you to keep your eyes open, okay? Keep those eyes on me and breathe – you got that?"
A tiny sob of relief left her as she felt a weight press to her left shoulder. His right hand, finding its way to that place of security and comfort.
"That's right, Golubyye glaza." She nodded encouragingly as she lifted her left hand to nestle her thumb against his wrist. "We've seen this before, remember? We've gotten through this before."
