A man stumbled through the woods. A lost man. He wasn't sure how he had made it this far. He left a long trail of blood behind him as he stumbled along. His arm was ripped off and he hadn't had time to do anything to stop the bleeding. He barely got away from them. He didn't make it much farther and when he fell, he knew he was done for.
~~~~
"Are you sure this is safe...?" Steve asked Natasha skeptically.

"Why wouldn't it be? You're with me," Natasha replied snarkily.

Steve hated leaving the bunker. It made no sense to him. They had everything they needed there. Natasha needed action though. She couldn't stay cooped up for long. He followed her aimlessly. She saw everything and he wasn't great with a gun. He was so glad they had discovered eachother. He took the closer one's out up close when he needed to. Other than that, Natasha didn't really need him. He wondered why she kept him around. "Hey, N-" he was stopped by her hand clasping over his mouth.

Natasha gave him a warning glance that said 'you better shut the hell up'. He did. Ahead of them was a body. Depending on how fresh it was, it could be bad news for them. That meant Flesheaters could be near.

Natasha took a step towards it. It appeared to be a male. He was laying face down, his left arm, well, what was left of it, was in shreds. The blood covering it was thick and nearly black. There were clear signs of infection. His eyes widened when he saw his back rise a bit.

"Nat, he's alive," Steve warned her. The wound wasn't fresh though, so it didn't seem that they were in immediate danger.

Natasha crouched beside him and tried to turn him onto his back, having no luck. "He won't be for much longer. Get your ass over here and help me." They would need to get him to the bunker if he had any chance of survival. Finding survivors was rare and it was a risky ordeal. Some of them weren't all there. It was scary what solitude could do to a person. The people who survived had some sort of factor in their blood that the others didn't. Those people who didn't were now Flesheaters. Nasty, nasty creatures.

Steve crouched on the opposite side of Natasha and carefully rolled the unconscious man onto his back. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat when he saw his face.

'Go! Get out of here!' Those had been his best friend's last words to him. They echoed in his head as he took in his features. It was him. He thought he was dead. He spent the last three months mourning him. His hair was overgrown. It reached all the way to his shoulders. His face had uneven stubble as if he had attempted to shave it, but didn't have a mirror. Every visible piece of skin had at least one scar on it and his arm... he looked dead. He had never seen him this pale.

"Steve! Snap out of it and give me the first aid kit!" Natasha didn't know why he had zoned out. She had never met his old friend. Steve had a sketchbook full of drawings, but he never let her see it.

Steve mumbled a curse under his breath and dug through his backpack. Once he found the first aid kit, he quickly handed it to Natasha.

Natasha doused the shredded remains of his shoulder in disinfectant and wrapped it in bandages to try and slow the bleeding, "that's all I can do here. Can you carry him?"

Steve nodded and put his backpack back on before he carefully scooped Bucky into his arms.

Natasha heard uneven footsteps behind herself. Kind of like someone was limping. She quickly grabbed her gun, "Steve, run!"

Steve gave her a panicked look, "what about you?!"

"I'm right behind you!"

She shot the Flesheater behind her as Steve took off towards the bunker with his old, half alive friend in his arms.

As she ran, she shot any and all Flesheaters that came close. When they reached the hatch in the ground, Steve opened it and struggled down the narrow ladder with the extra weight in his arms. Natasha quickly dove after him and shut the hatch, locking it with the loud creak of protesting metal.

Natasha shoved everything off their small table once she hopped down, "lay him here and get me some light," she ordered.

Steve set him down gently and lit some candles around the surrounding area before he grabbed their one flashlight. They rarely used it because batteries were a rare thing to find. But Natasha would need it.

Natasha had the first aid kit again and Steve held the flashlight for her. Bucky had already bled through the thick layer of bandages which made Steve sick to his stomach.

She unwrapped the wound and disinfected the whole shoulder again before she got to work. She cut away the leftover skin pieces and threaded a needle after she sterilized it in the flame of one of the candles. That was when Bucky started to stir, groaning in pain.

Steve gently placed a hand on his other shoulder, "it's me, Buck... you're alright..."

His eyes slowly blinked open and he looked so far gone. They had already started to glaze over a bit, "S-Steve...?"

"It's me..." he looked up at Natasha who looked shocked. Steve had told her all about Bucky. But he had told her he was dead. He held Bucky,s hand with his free one and gave Natasha a small nod.

Carefully and efficiently, she started to stitch it all up. Bucky screamed and squirmed in pain, but Steve managed to keep him still enough.
~~~
As Steve placed a cold cloth on Bucky's forehead, Natasha approached quietly and sat across from him. "You told me he was dead..." she spoke quietly so she wouldn't wake the injured man.

"I thought he was..." he admitted, rubbing Bucky's knuckles.

"You also told me you were just friends," she pointed out, looking at their intertwined fingers.

"We are..." he wished they were more. He wasn't brave enough to tell Bucky that.

She raised a skeptical brow, but didn't pry. "He's strong. No one should've survived something like this..."

"He's a survivor," Steve said softly, "he's one of us," his eyes filled with tears of relief.

Natasha smiled softly, "when he's healed, we're going to kick some Flesheater ass."