Greetings all. I know, I've been gone for a while. I'm back though. But with a new fic. I've lost some of the inspiration for my past fics, and I'm hoping that a new one might get me out of my rut. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, feedback is adored.
-Sam
Six months. Six months since Project Insight failed. Six months since he's pulled the blond man from the river. Six months since he'd effectively gained his freedom. The Winter Soldier now spent his time on the streets, keeping a watchful eye for any HYDRA agents that might have caught his scent. After three nights in DC, the Soldier skipped town, knowing that the longer he spent in one place, the more likely he'd be found. He began moving north, never spending more than a few nights in one place.
There were three things in his head at that he knew for sure, the rest, he didn't know. The first was that HYDRA needed to go. They were the bastards that made him into what he is, and he hated them for it. He knew he couldn't rest until they were all dead. The second was that being out of cryostasis for so long meant memories began to swim to the surface, and worse it was a painful process. However, the pain was marginally made up for when he realized that some of those memories coincided with the third thing he knew and that was that money was essential. The memories that dredged up from the farthest recesses of his mind were random. Some from what he assumed was his past life, but nothing helpful. Nothing to remind him of who he might have been. Some were the tortures he faced while in the hands of HYDRA. They were painful, terrifying, and even less helpful than the latter. The most helpful memories were those of past missions, and even better, past HYDRA bases. The ones he encountered, he destroyed. But not before draining their bank accounts, taking it all out in cash. Every few cities, he'd stop and find a secure place to stash a large portion of the cash, only keeping enough with him to last to the next base. That cash bought him food, clothes, and weapons, all he needed to take out HYDRA agents. There were times when the Soldier found it amusing that HYDRA was helping its own weapon destroy them.
The Soldier's latest destination was Milbridge, Maine, searching for some form of closed building. In the six months since Project Insight, the Solider found himself living in foreclosed buildings, only sleeping when exhaustion caught up with him, and only eating when his head began to swim. Something in the back on his head told him this wasn't the right way to live, but that was a small part of his mind. A part that the Soldier wasn't sure about, and made sure to stomp down every chance he had. That small part tried to show its head again when the Soldier blatantly ignored the growl his stomach made when he passed some generic fast food joint. He'd already stopped to buy a thicker jacket, not expecting the temperature to drop as much as it had. It was nearing ten o'clock at night, and he still hadn't found a place to stay for the night, and in that moment, shelter was more important that food. After over an hour of searching, the Soldier finally found an abandoned boarded up warehouse. After a quick search of the outside, with the only open entrance being a broken window, the Soldier decided to settle here. He scaled the side of the building easily, dropping through the open window with little effort. A quick visual sweep of the inside showed the building to be secure, so he set about finding a secure place to rest for the night.
He thought the warehouse was empty. No one in their right mind would be in here on a night like this. The newspaper he'd snagged that morning showed that the weather could drop below the thirties. Those thoughts in mind, the Soldier set about finding some out of sight corner to tuck himself away in when he heard it. Faint rustling from the other side of the room. He whirled around, expecting a HYDRA agent that managed to catch up with him, but saw nothing. The rustling continued. Cautiously, he shuffled toward the source of the noise, his hand on the knife strapped at his waist. He stopped when he found what was making the noise. It was a girl, no older than four. She was tiny, judging by how tightly she'd packed herself in the corner. The rustling came from the various plastic bags and other items that surrounded her, apparently in an attempt to keep warm. Her eyes were squeezed shut, arms tucked against her chest, she was asleep it seemed. She was shivering violently, pain evident on her face. She hadn't notice him, despite how close he'd gotten to her. The Winter Soldier frowned deeply, a cold shiver running up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. It struck him, just how easy it would be for him to kill her. All it would take is a flick of his wrist, she couldn't weigh more than thirty pounds. For some reason, it bothered him, just how easily he could hurt her. Shaking his head as if to physically rid of the thoughts, the Soldier turned around, intent on leaving the building to find somewhere else to stay. His stride faltered when he heard the girl begin to cough, a deep, harsh painful sounding cough. A cough like that from such a tiny body pulled a chord somewhere in him, and the Soldier turned around, this time stopped by fragments of memories.
A skinny blond boy, too skinny to be healthy, walking beside a taller boy with brown hair. Both were laughing.
The same skinny boy a few years later, doubling over in the street, harsh coughs wracking his body.
The brown haired boy sitting on the edge of a bed, fear on his face, watching his friend cough up blood.
The blond boy, shivering violently, not responding to the doctor.
The brown haired boy, hugging the blond close, begging. "Steve, you can't leave. You just can't. Please."
The brown haired boy nearly crying with relief when Steve hugged him back. "M'here Bucky."
The Soldier shuddered a little, his mind jerked from the swirl of memories by the young girl's coughing. The brown haired boy was him, he realized. He'd taken care of his friend in the past because his friend needed him. The Soldier realized he must have cared deeply about the other boy in his memory, Steve. The idea that he could care about anyone was foreign at best. But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to turn away. The girl needed him. He was almost positive no one else knew she was here. If someone knew, why would she be? She would die in here unless he did something. The idea of helping someone stalled him further. Was he capable of helping? He knew the kind of things HYDRA had him do. Hell, when he found her, one of the first things he thought of was how easy it would be to kill her. His thoughts once again were disturbed when the girl resumed coughing. Finally, the Solider moved forward, a decision set in his mind. He crossed the space between him and the girl with a speed unique to him. He pulled down the zipper of the thick coat he was wearing and tugged it off. He was still wearing several layers underneath, but even if he wasn't, the Soldier was built to stand the cold. This little girl wasn't. He scooped the sick girl up with his flesh arm and settled with his back against the corner where she'd been, cradling her to his chest and wrapping the coat around her. She hardly moved, the lack of action sparking worry in him. The Soldier nearly laughed, feeling worry for this girl, let alone worry at all was a strange notion. At a bit of a loss for what to do, he settled for curling his arms around the still shaking girl, keeping her close, and looking around the room. This corner of the warehouse was well hidden from sight, but still the best vantage point to see all the places of entry. The doors were sufficiently blocked, and any other points of entry would cause plenty of noise. Satisfied that he'd be woken should anyone enter, the Soldier let his eyes slide closed, exhaustion getting the best of him.