This is for my cousin who asked *cough, cough* demanded *cough, cough* that I write her a Marvel-verse story. And since one of her favourite characters is Bucky Barnes, I went with it.
Clearly I don't own Captain America or his companions-boo hoo-and this is written for enjoyment purposes only. No money is being made from this tale, so please don't sue me. All recognizable quotes come from Captain America: the First Avenger or Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Anything unrecognizable came from my own imagination. I know, it's weird in there.
This is the final fight scene from Captain America: The Winter Soldier, but from Bucky's perspective, and it's much more interesting than I just made it sound. xD
Enjoy!
The Soldier
By Knowing Grace
I am The Soldier. I have no name. I serve no country. I have no past and no future. I have no dreams, nothing I aspire to. There is only the next mission and the next and the next...there is nothing else. If someone gets in my way, I put them down. Permanently. It's as simple as that. But this man—my newest mission—dressed in red, white, and blue, just won't stay down. No matter how many times I throw him, punch him, stab him, shoot him, he climbs back up and plants himself like a tree in front of me, as if daring me to try harder. If it was only that I could have dealt with him easily, but not only does he keep getting back up, he also won't stop talking.
"You know me." he says, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the broken metal floor of the Helicarrier.
A tiny flicker of something enters my mind.
Blue eyes.
The mission. The mission. The mission!
I drive my metal fist into the side of my opponent and grin when I hear the corresponding crack when one of his ribs gives way under the pressure. "No I do not!"
The man doesn't go down. "Yes," he pants, gripping his injured flank, "yes, you do. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and you and I have known each other our whole lives."
A flash.
Sergeant Barnes, 32557038—
No! I have no name. The mission. The mission. The miss—
"Shut-UP!" I shove him backwards, but there's little power in the movement. Instead, I'm fighting, fighting like mad as a slew of images flit before my mind's eye, searing my brain.
A little guy using a garbage can lid as a shield. "I can do this all day."
A grin.
A pair of determined blue eyes. "Bucky, Bucky! There are men laying down their lives..."
A chasm of fire.
A shield with stripes and a white star in the center.
Those eyes again, but the body's different...taller, more solid somehow.
"Go! Get out of here!"
The mission!
He tugs off his mask and I look into those same eyes. "You're my friend."
I have no friends. I'm a soldier...I'm a soldier...
A salute.
"Don't win the war till I get there!"
Marching into camp.
"Let's hear it for Captain America!"
I swipe his feet out from under him and he goes down. I crawl on top of him, hitting him over and over again. "You are my mission."
Punch.
"You are,"
Punch.
"my,"
Punch.
"MISSION!"
Something wet trickles down my cheek. Sweat? Tears?
The miss—
"Finish it." His right eye is nearly swollen shut, only a sliver of blue can be seen. "'Cause I'm with you...to the end of the line."
Cold.
Snow.
A train.
"Bucky! Bucky, hold on!"
Reaching out.
The metal bar breaks.
I'm falling.
I'm falling.
I'm falling.
And then the floor gives out from under us. I latch hold of something, anything to stay aboard. And this time he's falling.
Falling.
"Nooooo!"
His body hits the water and I can't see him anymore.
The...mission...?
Another flash.
A bar.
Half drunken troops singing in the background.
Those blue eyes.
A smile.
Without thinking it through, I dive into the water, debris rains down around me.
Searching.
Searching.
Come on, where are you—gotch ya! I grab a handful of blond hair and tug. Up. Up. Up, until we both breach the surface. I suck in a lungful of air and immediately cough as the acrid smoke burns the lining of my throat. The man is unmoving, dead weight in my arms. I drag us both out of the water and onto the muddy bank.
Is he alive?
His chest rises ever so slightly. Blood begins to pool under his prone form.
I scramble to my feet and take one more look at him.
My mission?
"You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?"
I smiled and punched him lightly on the arm.
"Hell no. But that little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight? I'm following him."
"Steve!" A woman's voice. They're coming for him.
Turning on my heel, I walk away.
I am James Buchanan Barnes. I no longer have a country. My past is a blur, my future is uncertain. Do I have a dream, something I aspire to? Unclear. There is only the next mission. And the next mission is: who am I?
~ Finis
