It wasn’t the cool midnight air that bothered you every time your skin broke into goosebumps or the way you navigated through the darkness of this large storage unit and met the same wall. It was the sounds of Bucky’s groans and the convicted criminal's own voice clashing catastrophically. The brawl was recorded on an open call, putting everyone in a state of urgency. Your body ached with adrenaline, pushing through every obstacle in desperation to find Bucky.

What once was supposed to be a partnered mission in care of arresting a r@pist with the Sargent you had the most antagonistic relationship with, resulted in that same Sargent grappling for survival and you threading through frantically.

Dispatch sent immediate backup, but you weren’t going to wait like you were advised to. “Bucky-” You called out. The way you said his name in that tone of voice, you were begging for his presence, for an unpromised safety.

The longer his grunts and groans echoed out of your radio, the more you felt like your heart was being squeezed in your chest. Any more of this restless running, it'd be too late. You could hear the sounds of havoc and fight grow louder as you slammed a door down off its hinges. “Bucky!” You repeated, seeing the man on the ground and struggling to catch his breath as he held his ribcage, likely fractured from impact- he was barely conscious. The right portion of his face was crimson, cuts on his cheek, a gash located on his forehead. The criminal was positioned against a wall, also heavily injured.