A Helping Hand (Bucky x Reader) One-shot

You were walking through the streets of Washington DC. It had gotten dark very quickly and it was awfully quiet for a Friday night. You figured it had something to do with what had happened on the Theodore Roosevelt Island. According to the media, the dangerous assassin that was responsible for over a dozen kills, was still somewhere out there. People were advised to stay indoors and not to let any strangers in the house.  

You would have already been home, if your boss hadn’t made you stay to finish up some paperwork. You didn’t like to walk around town at night. Especially not when his assassin people had been talking about all day was still on the loose.

You quickly turned the corner and crossed the streets, without even really looking if any cars were approaching you. In the shadows of the buildings, you could see a man stumbling towards you. His long, brown hair was stuck to his face and he looked at you with a painful glance in his eyes.

‘Sir, are you alright?’ you asked the man that kept stumbling towards you. You took out your cellphone from your pocket and started to dial the emergency number. ‘Do you need me to call 9-1-1?’

Before you could press the green little telephone on your phone, to put you through to the emergency line, the man took out a gun from the back of his pants and fired at you, sending your phone flying in the air in several pieces.

You let out a tiny scream, feeling a shot of pain going through your hand. You looked down at your phone, that was laying broken on the ground. The man stepped closer to you, putting his hand over your mouth before you could scream again and pushed you into one of the alleys, against a cold, stone wall.

He pointed his gun at your head and you swallowed hard, seeing the determination in his eyes. There was no doubt in your mind that he would kill you if you didn’t give him what he wanted. You only needed to find out what that was.

‘Who knows you’re here?’ he hissed in your ear, while tears were running down your cheeks. ‘Answer me!’ he cried out softly when you didn’t answer right away.

‘No one!’ you cried. ‘I’m alone…’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Two blocks away… Please, don’t hurt me!’ you pleaded, looking at his metal arm that reflected the moonlight into your eyes.

‘I won’t if you do what I tell you, understand?’ he said firmly, looking at you with his cold, blue eyes that seemed to burn a hole through your head.

You nodded, watching him carefully as he took his hands away from you and tucked his gun back in his pants.

‘Lead the way…’ he mumbled, gesturing you should lead him to your apartment.

This is not happening, you thought to yourself as you were walking through the streets, closely followed by the man you assumed to be the assassin from the news. Why on earth is this happening to me?

With shaking hands you searched for your keys in your purse. You were almost at your apartment building and you had a hard time controlling your fear. You had no idea what this man was going to do to you. You could only imagine.

‘Hurry up!’ the man whispered, looking around him while you were still looking for your keys.

Still shaking you got the keys from your purse and put them in the lock on the front door. You quickly turned the key around, feeling the cold metal of his gun against the back of your head.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you spoke again, looking into his eyes as you opened the door.

The man swallowed hard, looking back at you. For a moment you thought you could see a shimmer of sorrow in his eyes, but that was quickly replaced by the same anger you had felt for the last fifteen minutes.

‘I told you,’ he said, walking past you, into your apartment. ‘I won’t.’

You followed him, locking the door behind you and shutting the blinds. Maybe you should better keep them open, but some part of you believed him. He wouldn’t hurt you. At least not here. Not now.

‘What do you want from me?’ you asked the man after several minutes of silence. After he had torn your phone from the wall, breaking it into several pieces, he had seated himself in your couch, putting his gun on the coffee table.

‘I just need a place to lay low for tonight. That’s all.’

You looked at the gun, telling yourself you shouldn’t make things any harder than they already were. He wasn’t going to hurt you. But if you would get that gun, at least you would have something to defend yourself with… You quickly shook that thought from your mind, remembering the determined look on his face when he had pointed the gun at you.

‘Who are you?’ you frowned, looking at him as he took his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes.

‘I’m nobody…’

‘Right,’ you sighed, walking into the kitchen. ‘So, what does that make me?’

He turned his gaze towards you, observing your every move as you started to put on the coffeemaker. Your heart had slowly regained its steady beating and somehow the overwhelming fear you had felt when he had first pulled out his gun, had disappeared. How dangerous the media may have made him out to be, all you could see sitting on your couch now, was a broken man that didn’t know who he was anymore. As you looked at him longer and saw the pain and hopelessness return into his eyes, you started to wonder if he had ever truly known.

‘I imagine you might want to sleep. The bedroom is right over there,’ you said, pointing in the direction of your bedroom.

‘I’ll take the couch…’ he said, his voice cold. ‘Don’t try anything stupid. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.’

You nodded, swallowing hard. You took the steaming cup of coffee from the kitchen counter and walked passed him towards your bedroom.

‘Don’t worry. I won’t be here when you wake up…’ he spoke softly, just before you walked out of the room.

‘Fine,’ you replied, turning around to look at him. ‘In that closet over there might be some clothes that fit you. They belong to my ex, but he’s an asshole, so you can take ‘em.’

‘Thank you,’ he spoke even softer.

‘Sure…’ you mumbled, turning back to the door and leaving him with his demons. ‘Good night.’

You had wanted to stay awake – to be sure he wouldn’t come into your bedroom at night and kill you in your sleep – but somehow you had managed to fall asleep. The empty coffee mug lay on the ground where you had dropped it when the lingering sleep had taken you away. You were only awoken by a scream. You were sure it came from the living room.

You shot upright in bed, rubbing your eyes as you still felt the heavy feeling of sleep pulling you to your pillow. You quickly jumped out of bed, almost tripping over the coffee mug. You sprinted outside your bedroom as you heard stumbling noises.

‘Hey!’ you screamed at the assassin when you entered the room, seeing him knocking over your furniture. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

He turned around, his eyes blood red and a dark frown lay over his face. He stormed at you, his metal arm lashing out to you. Your heart started to race inside your chest as you realized he had lost his mind and was in some sort of murderous trance.

You ducked just in time. You could feel the gush of wind above your head of where his fist swung at you. You ran to the other side of your apartment and tried to get through to him.

‘Snap out of it!’ you yelled. ‘This is not you.’

‘Yeah?’ he scoffed. ‘How do you know?’

He stormed after you again. The mechanisms in his metal arm clicked together, making a clinging sound. It send shivers down your spine.

You were standing on opposite sides of the living room. You ran around the couch, trying to escape him. You had almost made it to the kitchen, when he threw one of your picture frames at your head. You lost balance and hit the floor hard. Your face smashed against the carpet and you could feel the warmth of your blood flowing over your lip.

The man was behind you with a few quick steps. He pulled you to him by your legs, while you scratched at the floor and screamed, trying to stop him from getting to you. He turned you on your back and got on top of you, pinning you to the ground. He tried to push your hands to the floor, but you fought him, trying to wriggle yourself from underneath him.

‘Let go of me!’ you cried out, when he was finally able to control you. ‘Whatever it is… it’s not real!’

‘Shut up!’ he yelled, hitting you across the face with his metal arm. ‘You’re my mission…’

‘Mission?’ you mumbled, feeling a hot, stinging pain in your cheek, while tears run down your face again. ‘What the hell are you talking about? You just needed a place to lay low, remember?’

He hit you across the face again and you could feel yourself slowly slipping away. He was too strong for you to fight.

‘Tell me who you are! Why do you know me?’

‘I don’t…’ you whispered. ‘You’re living in a dream. It’s not real. Look at me,’ you sighed. ‘It’s not real…’

You could see his expression change as you spoke those words. Right before you lost consciousness, the dark frown on his face disappeared.

‘Oh, God…’ he muttered to himself. ‘What have I done?’

When you opened your eyes again, you were back in your bedroom. You were laying in your bed, the covers pulled up all the way to your shoulders. A stinging pain was glowing in your cheeks and as you touched them, feeling the swollen skin, you suddenly remembered what had happened.

Your heart started to race again as flashes of what happened appeared in front of your eyes. You threw your legs over the side of the bed and lowered yourself to the floor. You pushed yourself from the bed, silently making your way out of your bedroom and into the living room.

You had expected the man to be gone, but he was sitting on your couch, staring at the black screen of your TV, seemingly overthinking everything he had done.

‘What time is it?’ you asked, clearing your throat.

You had expected him to flinch at your words, but he didn’t. He just kept staring at the screen, swallowing hard.

‘Morning…’ he replied after several seconds of silence.

‘I thought you said you wouldn’t stay till morning.’

‘I needed to make sure you were alright,’ he responded, pushing himself from the couch and walking to the front door. ‘Now that I know you are, it’s best if I go.’

‘How did you sleep?’ you asked, following him, not wanting him to leave already. You needed to know what was going on.

‘I didn’t. Not after what happened. I’m sorry. I need to go.’

He put your ex’s baseball cap on his head and walked out of the door, leaving you standing in the living room with two swollen cheeks and a lot of questions.

‘Wait,’ you cried out, grabbing his metal arm.

He turned around quickly, pulling his arm from your grasp and pushing your against the wall. The cold metal closed around your throat, while his ice cold eyes looked at your angrily.

‘I just wanted to…’ you started, tears stinging in your eyes, as you tried to get your fingers between your throat and his hand.

‘Don’t.’ He let go of you, pushing you to the ground harshly. ‘Forget about me. I’m nobody…’

You nodded, backing away from him, crawling back into your apartment. ‘At least tell me your name.’

‘Bucky,’ he whispered. ‘It’s Bucky.’

He made his way out of the front door, slamming the door shut as he did. You quickly pushed yourself from the floor and pulled your jacket from the stand. You slowly opened the door and watched Bucky turn the corner to the right. You were not letting him get away that easily. You needed to know who he was. For some reason, you wanted to help him.

You silently slipped out of your apartment and followed Bucky as he walked through the streets of Washington DC.

You didn’t know if he was going somewhere particular, but he did seem to know where to go. You hid in alleys, every time he turned around to look behind him. You didn’t know if he had spotted you, but if he had, he didn’t really seem to care. He just continued his way in the same pace as he had before.

With your ex’s clothes he blended in with the crowd and it was hard to follow him sometimes. He was a skilled assassin after all, so if he wanted to lose you, you figured it would be a piece of cake for him.

After an hour of following him around, he walked up the stairs of the Smithsonian museum. Banners had been hanging throughout whole Washington and you thought he might have recognized Captain America from his fights with him.

You quickly ran up the stairs and walked into the museum. Your cheeks were still a bit red and swollen, but the cashier didn’t seem to notice as she handed you the ticket for the exhibition about Captain America.

You walked through the large room, trying to spot Bucky. Maybe he had outsmarted you and had tried to lose you, by walking into the museum. You were about to give up, when you looked up at the pictures of the Howling Commandos. You gasped as you saw the man standing at the right side of Captain America. His hair was shorter, but the same determination lay in his eyes. There was no doubt. That was Bucky.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, you slowly made your way over to the large information board about James Buchanan Barnes. You could spot him from several feet away. Bucky was standing in front of the board. His eyes were red and he swallowed hard as he was seemingly reading what was on the board.

‘That’s a nice picture of you,’ you sighed, walking up to him. ‘I guess the captain isn’t the only one that has overcome death.’

‘I thought I told you to forget about me,’ Bucky spoke to you firmly, but keeping his eyes on the big picture of James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. The man he used to be.

‘A girl does not simply forget the man that made her knees weak…’

He turned his head towards you, frowning at your words.

‘With fear!’ you quickly added. ‘With fear… Wow, that sounded better in my head.’

A small smile curled Bucky’s lips, sending shivers down your spine.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked you softly, walking away from the board, making his way towards the exit.

‘I came to help you,’ you answered, following him as he practically ran out of the museum.

‘I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t want it.’

‘Look, Bucky,’ you started, grabbing him by the arm again as he made his way down the large stairs. He looked up at you angrily, but he didn’t pull his arm from your grasp. ‘You may not want my help, but you’re going to need it, whether you like it or not. Whole of Washington is looking for you and as long as you don’t know which side you are on, you need to lay low.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ he frowned. ‘I tried to kill you. You should be running away from me, not towards me. You shouldn't want to help me... I don’t understand. Who the hell are you?’

‘What can I say. I have a thing for bad boys...’ you laughed nervously, but when Bucky didn’t respond, you continued talking. ‘I-I know you tried to kill me, but that wasn’t you. I know you’re trying to be a better man.’

‘But you don’t know me. Hell, I don’t even know who I am!’ he cried out, pulling his arm from your grasp and running away from you.

When he was at the bottom of the stairs, S.W.A.T. cars pulled up in front of the museum. Armed men jumped out of the cars and pointed their guns at his head.

‘Hands in the air!’ one of them screamed. ‘We have the whole place surrounded. You can’t run, winter soldier. Not this time!’

Bucky turned around to you, his eyes spitting fire. ‘Did you…’

‘No…’ you whispered, looking at all the cars that pulled up and all the guns that were pointed at Bucky. ‘I didn’t, you have to believe me.’

‘Stay where you are, or we’ll have to shoot you!’ the man spoke again.

Another car pulled up. An all-black SUV with colored windows. You recognized the people that stepped out of the car immediately. Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers, also known as Falcon and Captain America.

‘We’ll take it from here,’ you heard Steve say to the man with the megaphone. ‘We’re old friends.’

The man nodded, shaking Steve’s hand and gesturing his men to lower their weapons. ‘The floor is yours, captain.’

‘To hell with this!’ one of the S.W.A.T. members cried out. ‘Just shoot the bastard!’

Agreeing sounds came from the other men and their guns were pointed at Bucky’s head again.

‘No!’ Steve yelled. ‘Lower your weapons. Let me talk to him.’

Bucky quickly turned around, looking into your eyes. He knew as well as you did that opening fire on him meant opening fire on you as well. The fire in his eyes disappeared and made way for fear. Something you hadn’t seen in his eyes before. Did that mean he cared? Cared about you?

He ran up several stairs to try and reach you in time. The first ray of bullets, he reflected with his metal arm. He took out his own gun from the back of his pants and shot down several of the agents, until the gun was empty.

‘Stop your fire!’ Steve screamed, jumping in front of Bucky and you, his shield pulled up to reflect the bullets.

‘That’s an order!’ the man that had previously shaken Steve’s hand cried out to his team. ‘This will have consequences, you hear me!’

The guns were lowered again and the echoing sounds of the gunshots finally left your ears.

‘It’s over, Bucky…’ Steve whispered. ‘No more running.’

Bucky nodded, slowly letting go of you. ‘No more running…’

‘Bucky…’ you whispered, swallowing hard, feeling the glow spread through your stomach. ‘I think something is wrong.’

You removed your hands from your stomach, blood dripping from your fingers. Bucky turned around, his eyes filled with pain and sorrow.

‘No,’ he whispered, catching you into his arms before you fell to the ground. ‘What have you done!’ he yelled to the men standing at the bottom of the stairs.

‘I’m sorry,’ you started, trying to look into his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘What for?’ Bucky frowned, trying to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on the wound in your stomach, but he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. This was a fatal shot.

‘For not being able to help you anymore.’

‘Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine,’ he lied, stroking the hair out of your face.

‘For an assassin, you’re not a very good liar, Bucky.’

A small smile curled his lips again, sending shivers down your spine. You weren’t sure however if that was because you liked the way he smiled at you, or just because your body was shutting down.

‘You should forgive yourself…’ you mumbled, feeling yourself slip away. Something heavy was pulling you away and you had to fight really hard to stay awake. You didn’t want to give in to the lingering sleep. Not yet. ‘I don’t know what happened to you, but it wasn’t your fault.’

‘I don’t…’

‘Promise me,’ you interrupted him.

‘I…’

You pulled him closer to you and pressed a soft kiss on his lips, just to make him stop talking. Or because you wanted to. You couldn’t tell anymore. ‘Promise me…’

He swallowed hard, looking into your eyes with a confused gaze. He nodded slowly and cleared his throat. ‘I-I promise, but… I don’t even know your name,’ he spoke softly, his lips lingering on yours.

‘[Name],’ you smiled, letting your hand rest against his cheek. ‘My name is [Name].’

Your hand slowly fell to the ground as the wind swept away your last words, carrying them across the street. A tear ran down Bucky’s cheek as he waited for you to speak again, but you never would. The last light had left your eyes and you were staring up at the sky, a smile curling your lips. You hoped Bucky held his promise to you. You drifted away into the darkness, thinking you had never felt so peaceful before.



THE END