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It was a long and tiring ride. There was only so much time a body could sit rigid with fear and anxiety before exhaustion took over. I slumped against the atrociously uncomfortable carseat and spent some time staring despondently out of the window. The the view was mind numbingly dull, Bucky wasn’t speaking to me and pretty soon I got bored.
Pepper used to say the most dangerous thing in the word was a bored Tony Stark.
I decided to stare at Bucky. At the very least it might make the other man uncomfortable. Annoyingly it didn’t seem to phase him much and after a while I got bored of that too. I started to tap my fingers against the door, my knee, the window, anything I could reach. After a little while, just when I thought my brain was going to implode, an idea took root. It was a bad idea -- a terrifically stupid one in fact -- but I couldn’t seem to shake it off. The longer I sat there the more the urge to act gnawed at me.
I was wearing a seatbelt and Bucky...wasn’t.
No, it was stupid. There was no guarantee the seatbelt would save me. I was going to get myself killed. And even if I somehow survived and managed to take Bucky out I would still have one very big and very angry Alpha on my tail.
And, when everything was said and done, did I really want to hurt Bucky?
Did I really want to be kidnapped, raped and forced to carry on humanity?
I waited until we reached 60 miles per hour and stretched my arms languidly. Bucky clearly didn’t expect me to suddenly reach out and grab the wheel. Why would he when I’d acted so perfectly docile for days?
I had enough time to yank Bucky’s gun free before the car flipped. The noise was terrible and all I could do was close my eyes and brace for impact. The seatbelt cut into my chest and the airbag deployed. I was jarred violently and had a brief second to consider how desperately I didn’t want to die.
Because, despite everything, I had no desire for everything to just end. Things could get better. I had to believe that this fuckup of a life wasn't my only shot.
We miraculously ended rightside up. I turned my head slowly and felt a little numb when I realised Bucky was no longer beside me. The windshield was destroyed and the logical conclusion was that the man had been thrown from the car, just like I suspected he would be.
Should have worn a seatbelt, I thought a little hysterically. I realised there were tears in my eyes and my breathing was too quick. Now was not the time to have a panic attack. I pushed through the emotions threatening to smother me and concentrated on moving my limbs. I was intact but sore. I figured once the adrenaline wore off I’d be in a much worse state.
I managed to hold onto the gun. Part of me was frankly amazed it hadn’t gone off. Fuck, what had I been thinking? Impulses got people killed. I knew better. I should have waited for a better opportunity.
Snap out of it!
I had to move. Steve would go to Bucky first. If Bucky was dead Steve would probably kill me. Grief could do terrible things to people.
So can fear.
I tried to open my door but it was wedged shut. I turned blearily to the hood and realised the engine was in flames. Fuck, fuck! Panic flared and I tugged desperately at my belt until it popped free and I was able to scramble to the drivers side of the car. I moved slowly when I stepped outside, feeling my limbs shake and knees threaten to buckle.
Shit, I was worse off than I first thought. I stumbled forward a few feet and then collapsed. My ears were ringing and I wondered briefly if I had a concussion. I didn’t remember hitting his head but everything had happened so quickly. I reached out and tentatively ran my fingers through my filthy hair and felt a spark of panic when they came back sticky with blood.
Fuck!
Steve was standing with his back to me a little further up the road. Bucky was lying in the recovery position next to him. I wondered if he was dead.
The odd thing was that Steve wasn’t looking at me or Bucky. He was staring up the road. I followed the line of his gaze and felt my stomach clench. Because of-fucking-course a train of bikes would be travelling towards them. They’d probably been tailing them all day and I was too wrapped up in his own panic to notice. No wonder Bucky had been ignoring me.
They were about to be swarmed. There had to be twenty bikes.
Steve turned around to look at me with a blank expression on his stupidly perfect face. “Run.”
Was he kidding! Run where? They were in the middle of the fucking desert. There was nowhere to go and I doubted one gun was going to do me much good against a pack of outlanders.
Instead of trying to run i rushed back towards Steve and the other van. Instinct took over and i just needed to hide. With one last desperate look at the bikers I dropped to my stomach and crawled underneath the engine.