Everything was going according to plan. The mission was running smoothly, everyone did exactly how they were told. Until… things fell apart. The security alarm was activated, even though it should’ve been shut down. The Hydra agents started to chase the small team. And while Bucky started the engines of the quinjet, you made sure to get everyone inside. Until this point, it was still a successful mission, five of the hostages had been freed.

Then a gun was fired. And you screamed. Bucky couldn’t do anything, he had to get the jet out of the gunfire, your screams in his ear. When he was finally high enough in the air, he hit the autopilot and rushed to your side, just to see a deep shot wound on your thigh. You had already lost so much blood, your face loosing its color.

The improvised tourniquet made from a ripped off piece of fabric of Bucky’s shirt was doing its best to stop the bleeding, but you passed out before the jet reached the nearest hospital. Bucky rushed inside, yelling at multiple people before you finally were on your way into the OR.

Now, hours later, Bucky was sitting at your bedside, his hands wrapped around yours. He watched you like a hawk, guilt and panic taking turns in driving him insane. Until you finally opened your eyes, your hand squeezing his slightly. “Thank god…” Bucky whispered as he scooted closer. “How are you feeling?”