Chapter Text
“Huh.”
Steve looks up from his boot at Bucky’s voice, seeing he hasn’t moved from the prone position he has been in for the last hour, eye trained through his rifle’s scope.
“Movement?” Steve asks, tucking the ends of his boot laces into place before standing and moving over to kneel next to him, pulling out his own scope and training it on the valley below.
“Of a sort,” Bucky grunts. Ever taciturn.
Steve searches for the targets they’ve been tracking, the ones that brought them to this valley despite it being in the opposite direction from where they originally intended to go. It was supposed to be a simple scavenging mission. Not that there is a lot to scavenge anymore. Not nearly 8 years after the end of the world.
“They haven’t moved.”
“East end of the valley.”
Switching directions, Steve searches for what Bucky sees. They might both have super soldier enhancements, but long before they introduced the serum to either of them, Bucky had eagle eyes. A natural sniper. The serum had just made him better at it. So, it takes several minutes for Steve to identify what he sees.
And even once he does, he’s not
So, it takes several minutes for Steve to identify it.
“Is that?”
“A girl,” Bucky confirms.
“Infected?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t look good either way.” There is a soft whirring, the only sign of Bucky moving as he adjusts his grip on his rifle. “And she’s heading straight for the pack.”
“Alrighty,” Steve stands up, stepping on the edge of his shield so it pops up and he slides it into place on his back. A relic from another time, back when Steve Rogers was Captain America. But that part of him was long gone. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
Steve nods towards the floor of the valley. “Well, if she isn’t one of ‘em, she’s gonna stumble right into a nest of biters. I’d rather not allow someone to be eaten in front of us if we can stop it.”
Bucky sighs heavily and pushes up, Steve wasn’t who he used to be, but he still has remnants of that savior’s complex buried deep inside of him. It comes out at the oddest times. Like right now. When they could be heading down to save an ‘it’ in the guise of a young woman. Steve’s already out of sight, jogging away at a steady clip.
With another heavy sigh, Bucky picks up his pace and catches up easily. If today was the day things ended for them, might as well end together.
When you stumble and nearly fall to the ground, you realize you have to take a break. Exhaustion has been smothering you for days. Limbs heavy, eyes burning, throat scratchy. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept, nor the last time you ate. And it had been at least a whole day the last time you’d found something to drink.
The attack on your settlement had been quick and wholly unexpected. Daddy always told you if something were to happen, you needed to run and head up north to the Woodhurst settlement. Daddy had family there, people who would protect you like he had. Keep you safe.
So when the attack came, you ran like they had trained you to run. Only there’d been no time to grab your flee-pack. Those things Daddy carefully collected and packed to help get where you need to go. All you’d had time to grab was your daddy’s knife as he lay bleeding on the ground in front of you. You still didn’t know why the Biters had left him to bleed there rather than tearing him to pieces like they normally did.
The world in front of you blurs as tears fill your eyes. You hadn’t been able to wait and see if anyone else made it out like you did. But you doubted it. Everyone you know, including Daddy, had to be dead.
And now?
Now you are alone and lost, hopelessly lost and unsure where you are going. Without food, without water, unable to sleep. Daddy taught you survival skills–how to hunt, how to gather, how to build a fire and basic shelter. Not that you could seem to remember any of that right now. Fear does funny things to your memory.
The one thing Daddy didn’t teach you was how to fight. He insisted you aren’t strong enough for that, that your talent was in your speed. You stay safe by running away and letting other people fight the fight. But, now you are alone. How are you going to survive without someone like Daddy to protect you? He was such a good fighter, so strong, always keeping you safe–
Snap.
Your eyelids fly open, and you jump to your feet. The world lurches, the metallic taste of nausea coating your mouth as saliva pools. Oh no oh no oh no. The low buzz of exhaustion in your brain swung into full-blown panic. Hand gripping tight to your knife, your eyes jerk from place to place, heart drumming in your ears as you wait for death to come.
It comes as two giants. Or at least that’s the first unhinged thought you have about the two men who appear in front of you. They are tall and broad, one dark and the other light. Beautiful really. Fallen angels turned demons here to hurt you.
“Stay away!” you shout at them, swinging your knife wildly. Or you try to shout. But your voice cracks, shards of glass in your dry throat. It has been days and days since you spoke last, since before the attack. The last time you spoke it was telling your daddy good night as you laid down to sleep in the little cabin you shared with him. More tears sting your eyes at the thought, the memories of what came mere hours later flooding into you.
“Woah.” The light one, the blond one, holds his hands up. A gesture of peace. But you’re smarter than that. There is no peace here, not for you, not when you will die. You jerk towards him, gripping the knife in both hands as you point it at him. “It’s alright, we aren’t going to hurt you.”
From the corner of your eye, you caught the other one shift and jerk towards him instead. He’s dark as the other is light. Except for his eyes. His eyes are icy blue. Cold. Terrifying.
“Stay back,” you croak again, stabbing uselessly in their direction. There is a tinny sound in your ear, growing louder and quieter in time with your struggling heart. Neither of them moves, and you risk stepping backwards, hoping you can put some space between them and you so you can flee. Running is all you can really do.
Unfortunately, your feet are just too clumsy in your exhaustion and you trip up on something, crashing to the ground in a heap. The breath whooshes out of your lungs seconds before your head hits the ground and the world goes black.
“Well, she’s not infected, though she seems more than a little crazy,” Bucky comments as Steve moves over to your crumpled form. Steve sends him an annoyed look as he reaches out, fingers pressing against your throat to check for a pulse. It is there. A little erratic, but there nonetheless.
“Knocked herself out.”
When Steve shifts to lift you up, Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “What are you doing?”
“Well, it’s not like we can just leave her here. Not when the valley is a gathering point of some kind.”
“Steve you can’t possibly—“ Bucky’s voice cuts off, his rifle lifting as he pivots around towards the sounds from behind them. The dull sound of his silenced weapon rings echoes through the valley as he drops five of the Biters they’d been hunting in quick succession.
With a frustrated sound, he glares at Steve as he cradles you against his chest. “Go. I’ll deal with the rest.”
Steve watches Bucky fade into the trees surrounding the small clearing you’d been resting in. Then, he turns in the opposite direction and heads towards the camp he and Bucky had set up last night. Every once in a while, he looks down at you, studying your face. Even through the dirt, scratches, and streaks of blood, Steve finds you very pretty. A delicate little doll really. Soft and small in his arms.
You’re in bad shape. Steve has no idea how long you’ve been out here, all alone, but you aren’t dressed in a way that’s appropriate for the terrain or the changing weather. The jacket you wear is at least two sizes too big for you, like it belonged to someone else once. The pants you are wearing are thin, torn, and just as dirty as your face. And the shoes you are wearing are better suited to a time when people didn’t travel everywhere on their feet.
From all this, Steve gathers that you might have come from one of the settlements, though he couldn’t guess which one. He’d have to wait for you to come around before he found out exactly where you came from. Steve wonders what you are doing out in the wild alone. Curious to know why no one is protecting you. What could be your story?
An hour and a half later, Steve arrives back at the camp he and Bucky set up. Despite carrying you the entire time, Steve isn’t the slightest bit winded or tired. God bless the serum. He’s pretty sure it’s the main reason he and Bucky survived the original fall of humanity, let alone the eight years since.
Kneeling, he settles you carefully on the sleeping bag they have rolled out. He moves over to the fire they banked when they left that morning and stokes it back to life, coming back to you when it’s going strong. You haven’t moved.
You stir a little when he brushes tangled hair from your forehead, noting the way your skin burns with fever. That’s not a good sign. Your eyes flutter open, but he can tell you really aren’t seeing anything as they roll. Lips parting you mumble weakly, “ Daddy? ”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve murmurs soothingly as he reaches over for a canteen and twists the cap off before he tucks an arm under your shoulders to sit up a little. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. Here, can you drink some water for me?”
Mouth opening, you let him trickle some water in and swallow it before your head lolls against his chest. You mumble something about missing daddy before you slump, passing back out. Carefully, Steve pulls the jacket off you and sets it aside, laying you back down. He pulls your shoes off and sets them aside too, before maneuvering you around, just like the doll he saw you like as he carried you here, so he can tuck you into the sleeping bag.
As he does, he’s surprised to see just how thin your clothes really are. So thin, they’re nearly translucent in the firelight, clinging to your delicate form. Pajamas, you’re wearing pajamas. You definitely came from a settlement, wearing a jacket the wrong size, thin pajamas, the wrong kind of shoes, and carrying nothing but a knife.
Which told him that chances are whatever settlement you came from, had been attacked. And you might very well be the only survivor. All alone in a hostile world with no one to protect you. Steve reaches out and strokes his fingers over your cheek, feeling something stirring deep inside his chest.
Something he hasn’t felt in years, a yearning need.
A soft rustling announces Bucky’s return, a sound that any normal human would have missed but Steve has no trouble catching due to his enhanced senses. He’s carrying several rabbit carcasses. He scowls towards where Steve is currently crouched over you.
“What are you doing?” he asks as he sets the rabbits down on a log.
“She’s got a fever,” Steve answers, letting his hand stroke down your arm.
“Great, so she’s sick and probably gonna die,” Bucky grunts, working quickly to prepare the rabbits.
“Ever the eternal optimist, aren’t you, Buck?” Steve sighs, pulling the bag up and tucking it around you. Then he moves over to where Bucky is kneeling and tugs his head back by the hair so he can kiss him roughly. Hand wrapping loosely around his throat, tongue sliding in to dance and tangle with Bucky’s.
Bucky hums a little when Steve lets him go, a small smile playing on his lips as they both fall into a routine that’s so familiar by now. There was one good thing that this whole apocalypse did for Steve. It forced him and Bucky to acknowledge and accept the feelings they’ve always had for each other.
That was one thing Steve was always good at, finding the one kernel of something to be thankful for. Despite all the blood, the death, the horror, Steve wouldn’t change anything about it because of what he had now. Because of Bucky.
His eyes track over to the little bundle that was you curled up under their sleeping bag. And maybe now, it gave the two of them something else.
Someone else.