Lifeline
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Pairing(s): Bob Reynolds x Fem! Reader - Platonic! Yelena & Reader Dynamic - Platonic!Bucky & Reader Dynamic 💞
Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you’re forced to confront just how much your best friend means to you, and how far you’ll go to keep her alive.
Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Gore, Injury, Blood, Medical Settings, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Distress, Explosions, & Probably too much Dialogue
A/N: Between summer classes, my sisters graduation party, and my job, this took me a lot longer than I thought it would. That being said, I’m very proud of it! I changed up the writing style to 2nd Person POV, because that’s how I used to do it, and I like it better. Enjoy this hurt/comfort that I promised 🩷
Translation: Дорогая - Sweetheart
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The mission was going well. Suspiciously well.
Bob and Bucky had already cleared the north wing, taking out the remaining guards and disabling the perimeter defense grid without much resistance. Ava had slipped through the lower floors like a… well a ghost, disabling the compound’s internal sensors and wiping all surveillance data before the enemy even realized she was there. John was waiting on the jet, prepared to take off incase of an emergency extraction.
Alexei was not allowed on stealth missions.
It had all gone a little too smoothly. No alarms, no last minute reinforcements. Just a quick, surgical takedown.
Which made the final step feel almost too easy.
“Intel should be in the west records room,” Ava reported over comms, her voice calm and efficient, “It’s not on the servers, so someone’s keeping hard copies. Probably a hard drive. You might have to search for it though.”
“I sent you the hallway blueprints,” Bucky added, “No booby traps, no guards posted. Should be clean.”
“Should be,” Yelena muttered, side eyeing you as the two of you advanced through the smoky hallway, “Which means it absolutely won’t be.”
You snorted, “Oh come on. Maybe for once a mission could actually go right.”
She narrowed her eyes at you, “You just jinxed us, you know.”
“Please. That’s not real.”
She smacks your shoulder lightly, “That’s exactly what someone would say right before they get blown through a wall.”
You and Yelena moved through the smoke choked hallway side by side, weapons drawn, boots crunching over shattered glass. You were supposed to clear the west wing of the compound; secure the hard drive with intel, take out any remaining stragglers, and rendezvous at the extraction point.
“Bet you five bucks I find the drive first,” You murmured, flicking your eyes across the scorched corridor ahead.
Yelena scoffed, “That’s it? What will I do with that? Buy half of a New York coffee?
You grinned, “Fine, ten bucks says I get to it before you.”
“Make it twenty, and loser has to scrub the showers,” She challenges.
“You’re on.”
The complex rumbled slightly, and Yelena’s arm stuck out in front of you. The two of you halted your movements, listening for potential threats. After a few beats of silence, you both quietly carried on.
She continued the conversation, murmuring, “You’re going to regret it when you’re elbow deep in Alexei’s hair clogs.”
You gagged audibly, “No no no, that’s foul. I take it back. No showers.”
“You can’t take it back you coward!” She hissed softly, her finger jabbing into your shoulder as she stepped over the body of a downed Hydra soldier.
“Fine!” You roll your eyes, “If I lose I’ll clean the showers, but if I win,” You paused for a second, thinking, “You’re doing my laundry and folding my socks into little burritos like you do yours.”
Yelena scowled, “I don’t fold my socks into burritos.”
“You do. I’ve seen it. You treat your socks better than your teammates.”
Before Yelena could fire back, Bucky’s voice came back over comms, low, amused, maybe slightly annoyed, “Is this really happening? Are we wagering chores in the middle of a hostile zone?”
Yelena taps her comms with a smirk, “It’s called multitasking old man.”
A low, familiar hum vibrated through your ears, “Sounded more like flirting to me.” Bob added, teasingly.
You grinned, tapping your own earpiece, “You jealous?”
His dry tone didn’t miss a beat, “Of the world’s weirdest foreplay? Not even a little.”
You shrugged, “Sounded a tiny bit jealous.”
Bob’s chuckle came soft and low over the line, “Eyes up, sweetheart.”
The two of you continued on, stealthy, and silent.
You and Yelena had always moved like this; side by side, shoulder to shoulder, like you were born knowing each other’s rhythm. It hadn’t started that way. She didn’t let people in easily, and you’d spent the first few weeks trading dry sarcasm and fake glares across briefing tables. But something had shifted.
Maybe it was the shared past. The haunted edges. The quiet understanding between two people who knew what it meant to be used, and to fight your way back to yourself. Maybe it was that she never treated you like you were fragile, and you never treated her like she had to be unbreakable.
Whatever it was, it stuck. And before long, she was your best friend.
Not the kind you just trained with. She was the one who’d knock on your door at midnight because she found a movie she knew you’d hate and wanted to make you watch it anyway. The one who made fun of your combat stance while bandaging your hand. The one who stood between you and your demons without a second thought.
Sister. Best friend. Lifeline.
And now she was smiling like none of this was dangerous.
“You coming or what?” Yelena teased, already stepping into the next corridor.
You smirked, “I’m just making sure you don’t walk into another tripwire.”
“Please. I am the tripwire.” You made a face at her that screamed, that makes zero sense. She responded by sticking her tongue out at you.
Over comms, Bucky sighed, “And I’m the one with a migraine now.”
You both snort.
The two of you turned the corner into what looked like an old generator room. The walls were charred, exposed wires were hanging; still sparking, and… a sound. Just a hum at first, quietly buzzing through the walls. Then rising.
A trap.
Your expression dropped, “Yelena-”
A flash of light. A sharp beep. Neither of you even had time to turn around.
The explosion hit like a thunderclap, blinding white and deafening. You slammed into the ground with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. Your back hit something hard, maybe debris, maybe a wall, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your ears were ringing painfully, the air was thick with dust, and something was burning. Your whole body hurt, head pounding with every beat of your heart.
And Yelena-
Yelena was nowhere in sight.
You blinked rapidly, trying to orient yourself. Blood dripped down your temple, warm and sticky. Your vision swam, and the comms were a static mess in your ear, with nothing but garbled voices and white noise.
You tried to push yourself up, your arms trembling beneath you, and legs unsteady. Every fiber of your being screamed for you to stop, and your powers sparked faintly at your fingertips; weak and unfocused.
Then you saw her.
A pile of rubble. Blonde hair. An arm too still.
“No,” You breathed hard, stumbling forward on instinct, “No, no, no- Yelena!”
The sound of your own voice made your head throb and your vision blur. The vibrations in your skull sent a white hot pain down your neck and you groaned, pushing yourself forward.
You dragged yourself across the broken ground, pushing aside scorched metal and fractured concrete to reach her. Your hands shook, blood smearing your palms, and you weren’t sure if it was yours or hers.
When you finally uncovered Yelena, she was still breathing, but barely. Her body was limp, unconscious, and stained with ash and blood.
Your heart plummeted.
Protocol in this situation was to fall back, to regroup. But you couldn’t move, you couldn’t leave her. Your arms found themselves hooked under Yelena’s, as you fought your own fatigue, and dragged her out of the rubble. Your body was trembling, tired, and nearly collapsing under the weight. But your eyes were wide and frantic, and your heart was thumping faster than you thought it could.
She had to be okay, she just had to be.
“Y/N! Fall back, now!” Bucky’s voice barked through the comms.
But you didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You knelt beside Yelena’s body, your own chest heaving, tears mixing with the soot on your face. For the first time in a long, long time, you didn’t know what to do.
——————
The jet was moving fast, cutting through clouds and sky, but time still felt too slow.
Yelena was laid out across the med-table, strapped in, Bucky and Ava working furiously to stabilize her. Blood was still seeping from the gash in her side, and her breaths remained uneven. The sight of her made your stomach twist. You hovered nearby, trying your best to help. But your vision was still blurry, and the pounding in your head made you nauseous and dizzy.
Bob watched you warily, not straying too far.
“I can help. Just-” You stepped forward, reaching for a roll of gauze someone tossed near the med table. But your hands were shaking too badly to grip it.
“Y/N,” Bucky said quietly.
“I can do it, just let me-” You stammered, your voice ragged as you reached back for the gauze near the edge of the tray. Your fingers barely curled around it before it slipped from your grasp again, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Your breath hitched, short and frantic, “Shit- I can-”
Bucky gently stepped between you and the table, bending slightly to your level. His voice was softer than usual, “You’re not okay. I need you to step back.”
“N-No! She’s not okay! She needs help! I need- I need to help her, I can’t-” Your voice cracked, raw with panic, “She’s not waking up, she’s not-”
Bucky glanced to Bob, who didn’t hesitate.
He reached out and gently pulled you away from the chaos, wrapping his arms around you even as you resisted, “Hey, hey- sweetheart, look at me.”
“No! Let me go, Bob- she needs-”
“She needs them right now. You need me.”
You shook your head, body trembling in his grasp, eyes still locked on the blood still soaking through Yelena’s suit. You tugged at his arms once more.
“Stop,” he whispered, “Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”
You could only whimper in response, finally feeling the affects of your sudden movements, the throbbing pain fading back into your skull.
Bob held you tighter, “You’re hurt, you’re bleeding, and you’ve probably got a concussion. Let me help you.”
Your hands fisted in his shirt, trembling hard, “I can’t-I can’t think. Oh god what if she-” Bob shut that down quickly.
“She’s alive. You saved her.” He soothed, hand stroking your back softly, but you shook your head, crying now, silent tears streaking your soot covered cheeks.
“She wasn’t moving-” you were cut off,
“Baby breathe. Come on, in through your nose.”
You were gently guided to sit against the wall of the jet, his body pressed to yours, one hand cradling the back of your head, and you took slow breaths, “Good girl. That’s it. I’ve got you.”
As your breathing began to steady, he carefully examined the wound on your temple. The blood still hadn’t clotted. He reached for the medical kit, using its contents to gently dab at the wound. He grabbed the small penlight, testing it before meeting your eyes.
“Follow the light, but keep your head still.” He ordered softly, heightened concern etched into his features.
You flinched, but obeyed.
Your left eye lagged slightly, and the dilation of your pupils was severely delayed. Bob’s expression turned grim, as he turned to the others, “Concussion confirmed,” he relayed, and Bucky grunted in response. He turned back to you, “You’re gonna sit still for the rest of the flight.”
You grimaced, “But-”
“No buts. Head down pretty girl. Let me wrap this.”
You let your head fall against his shoulder as he gently patched you up. Your eyes flicked back to Yelena every few seconds, never staying away for long.
Your breathing was slow again, but still ragged, trembling hands clinging to his sleeve as he cleaned the wound, pressing gauze gently to the side of your head.
“I thought she was dead.” You whispered.
“She’s not,” Bob replied, firm but gentle, “You saved her.”
——————
Back at the Tower, the med team was waiting on the landing pad. Yelena was whisked away on a stretcher. You immediately tried to follow, stumbling forward with glassy eyes.
Bob’s hand closed around your waist the second you tried to push forward.
“Hey,” he said gently, voice edged with urgency, “Slow down.”
But you didn’t. You twisted in his grip, eyes locked on the medbay doors just ahead. Your boots skidded on the tile as you wrenched free.
“I have to be with her-”
Bucky stepped in from the left, cutting off your path completely, “You’re next,” he said, voice low but unmoving, “You don’t look good, Y/N.”
“I don’t care,” you protested, throat tightening.
“You need to let the doctors take a look at you,” Bob murmured behind her, voice low and soft, “You’re not okay.”
“I’m fine!” You snapped, louder than you meant to.
Then your knees dipped.
Bob stepped in closer, bracing you as gently as he could, “Okay, hey- hey. I’ve got you. Just breathe for a second.”
“You’re not fine ,” Bucky said quietly, “You’re disoriented, bleeding, and barely standing on your feet.”
You closed your eyes tight, the back of your head pressing into Bob’s shoulder as the world tilted sideways. Your legs felt too far away, and your heart wouldn’t slow down.
“I don’t want to leave her,” you whispered.
Bob pressed a kiss to your uninjured temple, “You’re not leaving her. You’re letting someone help, so you don’t end up needing that hospital bed too.”
You hesitated, then looked up at Bucky, eyes brimming with tears.
“Promise me,” you whispered, “You’ll stay with her.”
“Swear it,” Bucky said, firm and sure.
Bob gently brushed the hair off your cheek, “And I’m not leaving you either.”
Your shoulders sagged, finally giving out.
“Okay,” you breathed, “Okay. Just please, hurry.”
“We will,” Bob murmured, adjusting his hold as he started guiding you back, “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you patched up.”
——————
The moment the med team cleared you (mild concussion, bruised ribs, no internal bleeding) you were already halfway out of the room.
You didn’t wait for the nurse to finish her sentence. You slid off the exam table and made it three steps toward the door, heart pounding and legs ready to sprint.
But Bob was faster.
He stepped in front of you just as you reached the hallway, one hand gently pressing to your shoulder, the other hovering at your waist in case you stumbled.
“Easy,” he said softly, but firmly, “You still look like you might tip over.”
“I have to see her,” you said, voice hoarse, “I’ve waited long enough.”
“I know,” Bob murmured, gaze searching yours, “And you’re going to. But not if you faint in the hallway trying to rush there.” You faltered, chest tight, the instinct to bolt still coiled beneath your ribs like a spring.
Bob softened, “Walk with me. Please.”
Your shoulders dropped, groaning in annoyance as you agree, “This fucking sucks.”
That elicited a chuckle from him as he guided you down the hall to Yelena’s room, “Want me to go grab a wheelchair? We can buckle you in, tuck a blanket over your lap, get you a juice box with a bendy straw. Really let everyone know you got your bell rung so hard you’re one cartoon bird away from tipping over.”
That earned him a light slap to the shoulder and a reminder that she’s only “mildly” concussed, the air feeling lighter for the first time in a few hours. That was, until you reached the recovery room.
Yelena was still out cold, pale and bandaged, but breathing steadily.
Bucky stood up from the bedside chair, gesturing for you to take his place. You took him up on that, and dropped into the seat beside her. You were curled in on yourself, one arm hugging your middle, and the other resting lightly on the edge of the bed. Bucky stood in the doorway, watching quietly.
“She’s okay,” Bob whispered again, laying a hand on your shoulder.
You nodded, chewing on your your bottom lip nervously. You believed him, but that didn’t mean you were going anywhere.
——————
Four more hours passed, and you didn’t move.
Not when the nurse came in to check vitals. Not when Bob quietly tried to coax you into eating something. Not when Bucky mumbled that you should “at least stretch your legs” or, “your spine’s gonna fuse to that chair.”
You barely blinked, eyes fixed on Yelena’s still face. Her head was wrapped in bandages now, and you imagined the gash in her side was the same way under the gown. An IV line fed fluids back into her, and the color just was just barely returning to her cheeks. But she hadn’t moved.
So you stayed.
Bob stayed too, right beside you in the other chair, one knee bouncing anxiously. Bucky leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed, chewing silently on the inside of his cheek, watching you more than her.
The other’s were coming and going, not wanting to crowd the room, but still wanting to make sure Yelena was alright.
Alexei didn’t stay long. Couldn’t stay long. Even though he knew she would be alright, he couldn’t bare to see his daughter like that. He left quickly, mumbling something about, “-making her favorite soup for when she wakes.”
Now the room was quiet and still, and you were trying your hardest to keep your eyes open.
Then, without warning, Yelena stirred.
It was subtle; a twitch of her fingers, the barest shift in her brow, but it might as well have been an earthquake. You straightened so fast you startled Bob, and your breath caught in your throat, hand reaching for hers instinctively.
She groaned softly, her face scrunching. Her lips parted, dry and chapped, and her eyelids cracked open just the tiniest bit.
Her voice came out rough and low, “I told you so.”
You blinked, “What?”
“You jinxed it”
Bucky snorted from across the room, “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
You let out a soft, watery laugh and covered your mouth with your hand. The sound surprised even you, half-sob, half-relief. Bob huffed a laugh, “Wow. Barely awake and she’s already starting shit.”
Yelena’s mouth twitched into the faintest, sleepy smirk, “Felt wrong to leave you all unsupervised.”
“Shut up,” you whispered, smiling through the sting in your eyes, “I should’ve left you under that pile of rubble.”
Yelena opened her eyes a little more, focusing on you slowly, “You didn’t?”
“Unfortunately,” you muttered, voice tight with affection.
She didn’t comment further, but her lips twitched upward for just a moment. She looked around the room with exaggerated slowness, “Ugh. Medbay. Lame.”
“You almost died,” you said pointedly.
“Keyword there is almost,” she croaked, “I am not so easy to kill Дорогая.”
A fond smile reached your lips, glad for her to finally be back, “You’ve been out for hours.”
“Yeah, well… I needed the nap.”
Bob raised an eyebrow, “You almost gave her a panic attack.”
“She did panic,” Bucky said, now walking over with a smirk, “Was a full deer in headlights. Even tried to assist with field aid in the jet while she could barely stand.”
Your mouth dropped open, “Okay well-”
Bob leaned in slightly from his spot beside the bed, his voice low but laced with just enough dry humor to soften the reprimand, “You also almost collapsed twice, then proceeded to argue with me, Bucky, and the doctor, about how you were ‘fine’ while bleeding from the head.”
You winced a little at the reminder.
“I didn’t argue…”
Bob raised his brows, unimpressed, and Yelena blinked at you slowly, like her brain was still buffering.
“You’re hurt?” she asked, her tone shifting just slightly; still scratchy, still dry, but gentler now. Concern lingered behind her tired eyes.
You hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod, “Concussion. Couple bruised ribs.”
She stared for a second longer, processing.
Then, “You dumbass.”
You groaned, embarrassed, but also relieved at the familiar edge in her voice, “Oh come on.”
“You dragged my unconscious body through a half-collapsed hallway while you were concussed and barely standing?”
“…Yes?” You deadpanned, with an attitude that said, I would do it again.
Bucky gave you a pointed look, voice dry as he continues the list, “She also refused help, wouldn’t sit down, forgot how breathing worked…”
“Okay,” you cut him off, holding up a hand, “I think everyone here is being a little dramatic.”
Yelena’s voice was a raspy mutter, “You are like baby duck with death wish,” she gave a tiny shrug, or tried to, but winced halfway through, “All wobbly and confused, just waddling into danger.”
You frown, cheeks burning red as you turn to Bob, “Is it too late to blow her up again?”
Bob, still hovering nearby, smirked, “Honestly? She’s not wrong.”
You lightly whack him, offended, “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I am,” he said, already grinning, “That’s why I helped stop the baby duck from passing out on the jet.”
You tried so hard to fight the smile creeping its way to your face, mumbling for him to shut up as you turned back to Yelena. She rolled her eyes, but the concern was still there in the tight way she held your hand, “I missed being conscious, not being able to mock you was really boring.”
“Shut up!”
Bob smirked at that, but gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Mock her later. She’s got about fifteen minutes of energy left before I physically carry her to bed.”
Bucky cleared his throat, “Speaking of that, I’m getting some sleep.”
You looked up, “You alright?”
He gave a small nod, eyes steady on the two of you, “You’re all still breathing. That’s enough for me tonight.”
His tone was quiet, but the weight behind it said everything he didn’t. Relief, worry, care. All packed into that single sentence. Yelena tilted her head slightly, “Wow. That was almost… sweet.”
You smiled, “A little poetic, even.”
Bucky narrowed his eyes at both of you, deadpan, “Don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, we won’t,” Yelena replied, grinning through the soreness, “Wouldn’t want you pulling a hip trying to express feelings.”
You bit back a laugh, and he sighed, shaking his head as he walked to the door, “Every time I try to be nice…”
“Night Bucky,” the three of you said in unison, still smiling.
He glanced back one last time, “Proud of you. Both of you.”
Then he was gone, leaving the room a little quieter but warmer. The moment he disappeared through the medbay doors, Bob turned back to you with that knowing look; part patient, part amused, all gentle concern.
“Alright, duckling,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over your temple where the bandages still sat, “Time to sleep before you collapse in this chair and I have to explain to the nurses why you’re drooling on the floor.”
You rolled your eyes, too tired to come up with anything clever, “You are obsessed with dragging me places.”
He grinned, “Only when you’re too stubborn to go on your own.”
With a little help, you stood. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned into him without thinking, letting his arm wrap around your waist, solid and steady. You glanced down at Yelena, your smile fading a bit.
She was still propped up a little, eyes half-lidded, but awake enough to catch the shift in your demeanor, “I’m fine,” she said. “Go.”
You hesitated, gaze flicking to the chair beside her bed, “Do you want someone to stay with you?”
Yelena snorted softly, “What, you think I’m scared of the dark now?”
You gave her a sheepish smile.
“I’m okay,” she assured, her voice softer this time,“I’m sure the nurses will be in and out. They love to bother me. Go let Bob hover over you for a while. He lives for it.”
“I do,” Bob said, not even pretending to deny it.
Yelena looked over at him, “If she doesn’t sleep at least six straight hours, lock her in her room.”
He gave a short nod, “Planning on it.”
You exhaled a quiet laugh, leaning down to gently squeeze her hand one last time, “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”
“No promises,” Yelena muttered, smirking, but then her features softened, “Thank you. For saving me. For staying.”
You smiled again, but it felt a little heavier this time, more vulnerable, “Always.”
Yelena’s voice was quiet now, sleepy, “Goodnight, little duck.”
“Goodnight, Lena.”
Bob gave her a two-finger salute, then gently turned you toward the door, his hand warm and steady on your back.
And as you let him lead you down the dim corridor back to the living space section of the tower, you felt that weight in your chest finally start to ease; not gone, but softer. Safer.
Because she was okay.
And so were you.
