Ambushed Meeting
Friday night! Finally, another weekend to relax, I thought to myself as I locked the door to the puppy daycare I worked at and double checking to make sure no one could enter, turned to head to my car. I was the last to leave since I was the cleaner and I had just finished another long shift from vacuuming all the hair from the classroom, allowing me to return to my apartment and completely relax. I unlocked my car and got in, placing my purse in the passenger floorboard and closing the door before starting the engine. I was about to put the car in reverse when someone opened the passenger side door and clambered in, turning his or her full attention to me that someone being a man with shoulder length brown hair and bright blue eyes.
“Drive!” he told me in an urgent and pleading voice. I noticed then that he was bleeding from his shoulder from what looked like a gunshot wound and my jaw dropped open, panic setting in. Following my gaze, he placed his left hand, his metal hand over the wound and again demanded I drive.
“If you don’t get us out of here right now, they’ll kill both of us. Please, just drive. I can explain when we get somewhere safe. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” he told me, his blue eyes darkening. I nodded and put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot and headed to my apartment. He kept his attention on the roads, I guess checking to make sure we weren’t being followed. Arriving at my apartment building I pulled in a less frequented parking garage residents used, parked in a spot, and helped him out of my car and walked over to the building I lived in. We entered and got in the elevator, rising to the fourth floor and to my apartment where I quickly got him inside.
“Go sit on the couch and I’ll find something to clean that wound,” I told him, after locking the door. He sat and I exited to my bathroom, looking for the first aid kit in the cabinet and grabbing a few towels and some tweezers, returned to him. Sterilizing the tweezers with alcohol, I tried to work the bullet out gently without causing any more damage and placed a towel against the wound.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to a hospital? I’m not exactly qualified to do this,” I asked, moving the towel and pouring some alcohol over the wound itself before placing a gauze pad to absorb the blood flowing out. I wrapped more gauze around his arm before taping everything in place. He just shook his head.
“Is there anyone you need me to call?” I asked him, disposing of the bloodied towels in the trash and going to rinse my hands off.
“I…don’t know. I’m not sure I have anyone I can call,” he answered me, pulling off his shirt, also disposing of it in the trash.
“Alright. What’s your name?” I questioned while keeping my distance in the kitchen.
“Bucky. What’s yours?” he replied, lying back on the couch, draping his bandaged arm off the back.
“Abigail. Are you sure I can’t call anyone? Any place you can stay? Possibly…” I answered.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I didn’t mean to ambush you back there but I didn’t have any choice. I had to get away, to escape,” he cut me off, turning his head to face me, hand held outstretched to me, his blue eyes soft. Cautiously, I walked over to him and placed my hand in his. He closed his hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it and reaching in his jeans pocket to retrieve a flip phone.
“Steve. Call Steve,” he told me, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. I opened the phone and clicked down to the name Steve and hit call, hoping whoever it was could really help.
A few hours later, a knock sounded at the door and I watched as Bucky sat up in a defensive position, chest heaving, panic etched across his face. I quickly went to his side, not touching him; afraid of what boundaries I was allowed to breach, before gently placing my right hand over his.
“Hey, try to relax. It’s probably just your friend. Let me go see who it is. I’ll be right back,” I told him, before getting up and walking to the door. Looking through the peephole I saw a tall man with blonde hair and blue eyes standing on the other side. He was wearing a gray t-shirt with brown khaki pants and a black leather jacket.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Steve Rogers. You called me earlier. I’m here about my friend,” he answered. I slowly unlocked the door and opened it, immediately greeted by his sweet smile.
“I’m Abigail. It’s a pleasure to meet you. He’s in the living room. I think you scared him though,” I greeted him, directing him to where Bucky was sitting on the couch, eyes still wide with panic.
“Hey Buck. It’s Steve. I’m here to take you back to the tower. You’ll be safe there. I promise,” Steve greeted him. Bucky nodded but still didn’t move. I walked over to him, gently placing both hands against his cheeks, the action causing him to shift his gaze over to mine.
“You’re okay. You’re fine. No one is here to hurt you. You’re safe. Just breathe,” I told him, holding his gaze until his eyes softened and his breathing became easier to him, his hands coming to rest on my arms. He gave a soft tug and pulled me closer to rest his head on my shoulder, his arms wrapped gently around my waist. I ran my hands through his hair, slowly until he released me and got off the couch to join Steve by the door.
“Go wait in the car with Natasha. I’ll be down shortly,” Steve told him, handing Bucky a shirt, and watched him until he disappeared from sight.
“You might want someone to look at that wound. I might have cleaned it and wrapped it but I’m not a nurse or a doctor. I wouldn’t want it getting infected or anything,” I told Steve. He nodded and released a sigh.
“He didn’t hurt you did he? I didn’t know he would go to a civilian. He seemed to calm down around you. Or maybe you just have a calming affect on people. I could call you if we need you for something like this again if that’s okay?” he commented.
“No, he didn’t hurt me. He just startled me. And yes, you can call me if you need me. I’ll give you my number to reach me if need be,” I replied, before grabbing an index card from my desk and writing down my number to give to Steve. He pocketed it before turning to the door and leaving me alone in my apartment. I closed the door, locked it and turned out the lights before retreating to my bedroom. I stripped all of my clothing off and headed to the bathroom for a shower, rinsing off the rest of the sweat and grime off of my body. Once finished with the shower, I slipped on a nightshirt and crawled into my bed, drifting off to my own dreamland. This was only the beginning of the relationship with the people I would come to know as the Avengers as well as Bucky himself.
