"This has been the longest shift ever. Twelve hours of this is twelve hours too much," the nurse at the emergency room desk complained to her coworkers. "We haven't had a patient in two hours. I mean, I'm not asking for a train wreck or anything, but maybe a little broken bone or something."

"Do no harm, huh?' another nurse chuckled behind her. "Now you're wishing for injuries just to get you off your ass? You could go stock the rooms if you're so bored."

"Pfft, I'm not that bored. Tell ya what, I'm gonna run across the street to the diner for some good coffee. The crap we have is like warm tar. Anybody want one...oh...oh shit," she exclaimed, dropping the coat she had yet to put on and rushing towards the door. "Guys, I need a cart!"

Before she could move very far at all, the wide doors to the ER opened with a gust of cold air filling the nursing station and leaving the others with a chill at both the temperature change and the sight that was getting closer. As soon as their eyes adjusted, they saw the Winter Soldier running towards them with a limp body draped over his arms, both of them covered in blood; who's blood it was, they weren't yet sure.

"Please, she needs help," the Soldier begged urgently, refusing the cart as it was pushed next to him. "She's been shot."

"You have too!" the first nurse added, reaching up to check the gaping wound on his neck, but he pulled back as if her touch would kill him then and there. "Sir, you're bleeding a lot. We need to look at that."

"No. You take her."

"Sir-"

"I said, no," he insisted, his voice now icy and determined. It was made very clear, very quickly, that no one was to argue with him about this again. "You take her, and you help her. Now."

Another group of nurses rushed out from one of the rooms, offering to take your body from him but he wouldn't release you to them. The Soldier nodded towards the center of the ED and one of them wisely took his cue, leading him to where he could finally put you down. When he did, his movements were uncharacteristically gentle for the assassin, as if he could hurt you any more than he already had. For all he knew, you were dead by his hand. Normally that wouldn't bother him, because it was his mission and he had succeeded; it was the screaming voice in the back of his mind that was driving his actions now, and he couldn't deny the commands it was giving him.

"She's an Avenger," he told them quickly as he finally released you, "she's married to Stark."

"This is (Y/N) Stark?! What was she doing? Didn't they just get married yesterday?"

"That's all I know. That, and if you let her die, this won't be the last time you see me." With that, the Soldier turned and left the room, waving away anyone who so much as attempted to look his way, or at the wound still bleeding down his neck. As he passed by one of the supply shelves he casually grabbed a handful of gauze and pressed it against his skin, barely wincing at the sensation over a slug that was still imbedded where you had shot him in kind. He stumbled very slightly as he exited the building, the loss of blood beginning to catch up to him. His bloodied hand dragged across the bricks, leaving a trail behind him as he tried to escape back into the darkness of night where he would be safe. Here, under the fluorescent lights and sharp glare of sterility, he was beyond obvious.

You son of a bitch.

"Who's there?" he spun around, only to find no one.

I hope Stark kills us.

"Us? My god, how many voices are in my head?" The Solider stopped and leaned back against the wall, lifting up the back of his heavy leather jacket just enough to feel the coolness of them against his skin. The heat was rising from his feet and up his body in a wave, and the sights around him began to swim in his vision just a bit. "I've got to be hallucinating."

Nope. Just pass the fuck out and let them find you. Let them kill you.

His hand slipped, and his knees weakened from the shock his body was falling under and from a strange sense of fear that he had never experienced before; nothing scared the Winter Soldier. It wasn't in his programming to feel fear. The voice he was hearing was the same as his own, so there was no other option than hallucinations. They had pushed Bucky Barnes down too far for him to be pushing back now. He had never pushed back like this before.

"Let them try," he mumbled, finally losing his grip and dropping to the ground. The Solider was a sitting duck, out and in the open right where he had just told the nurses who you were, leading Stark to your side. He was sitting right where they would come to find you, and that damn voice in his head knew it. The voice was setting them up, and no matter how the Soldier tried to fight back, he wasn't strong enough this time.

This time wasn't like all the others, when Barnes was easy to push down. This time Barnes had you, and he was fighting to stay; all you had to do was survive so that you could allow him to apologize before saying goodbye once and for all. If turning into the Soldier again wasn't enough to let you go, then death was the only option left.

~~~

The nurses had done their job and called Tony immediately about your arrival to the hospital, and he couldn't bring himself to go alone; not because he was afraid of what he'd find, but because his head was still a mess from your hit. Steve offered to drive him so he could maybe convince Tony to get formally checked out, but Tony suddenly wanted nothing to do with the guy. If you were in the hospital, there was only one person who could have put you there. The Captain's best buddy was no closer to gaining Stark's trust in the first place and this all but shattered any future chance at it.

Instead, Natasha found herself behind the wheel with her own soulmate crumpled up in the passenger seat with his eyes tightly squeezed shut. The lights flickering by was enough to set off a new wave of pain and nausea, so it was best to just keep his head down for everyone's sake.

"Hey, you alright?" Nat asked gently. "We're just about there."

"Yeah, always," he answered, "don't worry about me. Just get me there, Red. Is Steve still riding our bumper?"

"No, he passed us a few miles back."

"Are you serious? Grandpa has a lead foot?"

Natasha looked over at him, her brow furrowed as she considered her next move. "Well, there's a good chance that Buck...the Soldier...is there or nearby, so he wants to get there before you do."

"To protect him or to take him down?"

"I think a little of both."

"Hmm, suppose you're right," Tony agreed. "Look, I get it. The guy's brainwashed and he's not in control of what he's doing. But Nat, I've gotta say, I really don't want either version of him back in her life. He'll always be a threat."

"I don't think that's your choice, Tony."

"I know. But I just wanted someone to hear me say it."

"Why?"

Tony pushed himself up a little further in the seat and risked what was possibly inevitable; he slowly opened one eye and then the other, looking at her with his best determination despite the wince of pain at the change in light. "Because when I tell her that, I want backup to confirm that I know it wasn't him. I also want someone who can help me convince her that I'm right."

Natasha groaned quietly under her breath, so low that even Tony almost missed it from right next to her. She knew full well that you wouldn't take kindly to being told what to do about Bucky, because you had all been down this path once already and it was awful for everyone around you. You would always be connected to him, even if Wanda tried to block him from you, and there was no way to fight that; it was painfully obvious just looking at Tony to see how connected to Barnes you really were. "Tony, you know that I would do just about anything for you, right?"

"Sure."

"Well that was convincing, thanks," she smirked. "But you know that she's been down this path before, and it didn't go well. I think the best you can do is ask-" she stopped, gasping as she brought the car to a sharp halt.

"What? What is it?" Tony perked up, paying no attention to the pain throbbing in his skull. Adrenaline had taken over and pain was a secondary concern.

"Stay here," she warned, giving him her best glare before hurrying out and towards the door of the emergency room. Steve was visible just beyond the reach of the lights, with Barnes tossed over his shoulder and unconscious. "Steve, stop! What the hell are you doing?"

"I need to get him out of here, Nat. If anyone sees him-"

"He's bleeding, Steve. Don't you think you should bring him inside?"

"For what? So they can patch him up and then get him hauled away? No, I can find someone to help. Just get Tony inside to see how (Y/N)'s doing, and look the other way."

"(Y/N)!"

"Buck?" Steve jolted, trying to keep his grip on his friend as he tried to free himself. "Buck, I'll put you down, just stop." He steadied himself and braced his stance before setting his friend down solidly on his feet. He was ready for either of Bucky's personas to be facing him, his hands up and ready for a fight if need be. "Which Bucky am I talking to?"

"Steve, I need to get in there," he pushed, first with words and then with action, but the Captain held him back, though just barely.

"Buck, calm down, I don't think it's a good idea-"

Bucky pushed one more time to get Steve to move before his next option was to knock him out, but a wayward glance over Natasha's shoulder brought his gaze to meet Tony's as he walked into the building. "Or maybe...maybe its best if I go," he backpedaled, uncharacteristically carrying fear in every muscle, "I shouldn't be here. I can't..."

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked, taking the bait. "Barnes, she'll want to know that you're okay too."

"No she won't," he whispered, moisture beginning to well up in his eyes. "She won't."

"Buck," Steve tried, pausing when he saw Tony emerge from the building, looking directly at them all. "Nat, stay with him, I'll be right back."

"No, I'll go," she argued, "I'm pretty sure that both of you are at the bottom of his list of people to talk to right now." The two men nodded in agreement but kept their eyes trained on her as she moved away, but when she reached Stark she positioned herself so that he couldn't see the two soldiers and would look only at her. She wanted him to see her undivided attention. "Hey," she greeted softly with a touch on his arm, "what's going on? How is she?"

She had seen Tony sick before, had seen him at days without sleep, had seen him on the brink of starvation, but this was a new depth of pale that robbed his skin of its color. His body was shaking and his hands wouldn't stop wringing together, even as she tried to take them into hers. "Tony."

When he looked at her, he didn't see her at all; it was as if he could see through her and anything else that stood in his way. All he could see was Barnes, staring back with Rogers at his side. There was nothing else in the world that he cared to see in that moment, so that he could memorize every line of his face, every strand of messed hair, and every plate in that goddamn arm so that when he ripped it from his lifeless body he could leave a souvenir as a reminder for Steve of exactly who it was he was protecting.

"She's dead."