Part One
"Your Name Is James Buchanan Barnes.."
Darkness, and silence. The only thing Bucky could hear was his faint memories calling to him. His head was spinning and it seemed like no one was on his side. Except maybe that one man… Stewart? Styles? No that wasn't right. Bucky's hands clawed through his longer hair as his memories were flooding back; the good and bad. Steve. That was his name. The name of the man who had been his refuge, his strength. The only person he ever called a friend.
"I'm with you until the end of the line…"
His name was on Bucky's lips yet he could not force himself to say it. Steve. He and Steve were practically brothers. A scream of pain erupted from the vocal chords that belonged to Bucky. Little did he know he was suffering an anxiety attack. His heart pounded furiously and he thought it was going to rip straight out of his chest. His vision was blurred and Bucky began thrashing about. He had no idea of where he was and what he was doing. Instead of the silence he had just faced, Bucky now heard crashes, rips, tears, and gunshots.
Clink
A bullet from a Glock hit the cool, hard metal of his left arm. His eyes opened to reveal the bloodshot, puppy dog eyes that the ego hid. In front of him was a man. The firing had stopped, and all was silence once again, except for the beating of his own heart. With vision still blurred, and the others senses useless, Bucky tried to make out the figure. Within seconds Bucky knew who the man in front of him was.
"Hiya Buck."
"Steve…"
With that Bucky was weak in the knees, he felt the lack of sleep and food hit him in waves, as well as the aftermath of the attack. Steve looked worriedly at his friend, as Bucky collapsed to the ground out cold. He rushed over to the brunette's side, and brushed a stray hair from his face. Captain America looked down on his friend. He was afraid of what was held in store for the duo, but knew as long as he had Bucky. He would always make it out of the woods.
"These Woods Are Dark Lovely and Deep…"
So, I saw this writing prompt thing. I thought maybe I could work with it. It's where you write a short sample for each line of a poem, and I chose one of my favorites by Robert Frost.