This chapter may contain triggers such as sexual violence and content.
Chapter 1: James Buchanan Barnes
May 29, 2014
8:41 P.M.
I jogged slowly along the sidewalk of the city, keeping my bright blue gaze straight ahead. My long black hair was tied up in a ponytail, always swinging with each running stride I took. My tanned skin tingling as I continued my daily run, feeling the multiple stares of people, watching me, watching my legs, watching my ass and my breasts. Breathe in and out, in, out. Look ahead. Adjust ear bud. The sun was going down. No worry, my car was just a few blocks away. My heart hammered in my chest as I ignored my surroundings, convincing myself that it was usual.
My name is Erin Rachels. I am 24 years old and out of college. I moved to the city of Washington D.C. not too long ago and work at a restaurant as a waitress. My apartment is tiny, but comfortable and can house at least three people. Many people have stated that I have a dark complexion about me. Must be my hair. It was straight and a silky black color. My dad is Japanese, though my mother is American. The ends of my hair reached to the bottom of my shoulder blades. I had a curvy body.
D.C. was okay. It was crowded, busy, obnoxious. Too many fumes existed in the air. Too many people existed. It would make me feel so uncomfortable. The crowds, the large amount of sweating bodies clustered together. I wore a loose gray jacket, black tank top underneath, and black basketball shorts. Nothing flashy, flamboyant or mistakenly misleading. Though, I don't understand why people are convinced that I apparently am wanting their attention. I hate them. Don't talk to me, touch me, don't even look at me or breathe the same air as me.
I adjusted my face into a menacing glare to ward off any curious bystanders. The sun's rays nearly blinded me as I jogged down the sidewalk, avoiding bikers and pedestrians. Almost there, yes, just around the corner now. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a group of men. All of them were wearing loose fitting clothing. Not a very clear picture though. There was four to be exact. My blue eyes stared straight ahead, hoping not to attract any attention. Suddenly, my legs picked up the pace from my slow jog to something a little faster. I could hear their laughter and catcalls through my buds. I began to heavily pant. Now I was sprinting. The corner was closer, coming closer. I pivoted my feet as I took the turn, nearly losing balance as I rushed my body straight to my car. The parking lot was nearly empty, given a few cars here or there. It was large with many streetlights, but it looked like a pit of dark hell to me. Shadows cast themselves everywhere and my dark green car was the only safe place I could think of. Quickly, I tugged my ear buds out of my ears, stuffing them into my pocket, joining my IPod and keys. Finally, I placed my hands on the door of the Toyota Corolla. My fingers dug into the pocket of my jacket, fishing for my keys. Cold metal hit the pads of my fingers and I quickly snatched them up, fumbling for the right keys. My gaze dragged over to a dark corner. I squinted, seeing a man-or something-hunched over, a baseball cap pulled over his face. Why did I pause? Suddenly, someone grabbed the cheek of my rump, giving it a squeeze. I yelped and jammed my key into the car door, quickly unlocking it and nearly ripping the door open.
"C'mon sweet thing, why you running?" a deep voice asked me. My body crawled into the vehicle's seat, only to be ripped right out of it. My hands clawed at the leather unsuccessfully, my chin smashing into the black pavement. My body was suddenly forced onto its back. The man who had a hold of me had a red sock hat on, and his skin was a sickly pale. His eyes looked bruised from lack of sleep. His cheeks were sunken in and hollow looking. A brown baggy coat hung over his large limbs.
"Don't take all of the fun out of it, Tommy," the one named Tommy turned his head, glancing at a middle-aged looking man. His hair was balding near the front and was missing his two front teeth. He had a leather jacket on.
"Don't interrupt me Raymond!" Tommy shouted and grabbed my waist, pulling me onto the ground further, making my jacket ride up my spine. Cool pavement met my skin, giving me shivers. I felt my eyes begin to water as I kicked out and tried to force myself up. Tommy stood up, and kicked me. I automatically leapt up and darted to the side of my car, only to be pushed onto the trunk of it. This time, Raymond held me down, grinding his bulge into me. A whimper escaped my lips as I struggled once more, sliding my body from side to side.
"HEL-!" Raymond cut me off by pressing his large hand over my mouth, muffling any noise.
"She's a fighter, eh?" the group laughed. Something slashed the back of my thigh. I felt my blood ooze out of the freshly made wound, trickling down my left leg. I screamed into the hand, attempting to fix my teeth over his calloused palm. His hands groped my inner thighs, caressing my waist, sliding along my mounds of flesh. His breath was hot with desire as he bit my neck, giving a mocking laugh.
"Wow, hey dude, leave us alone," I heard a higher pitched voice speak. Nothing in response.
"Did you hear me fucktard? I said to leave-oof!" I heard the slap of a fist against flesh. Raymond let me go and twisted around, readying himself for a fight. I scrambled away, limping along my car, but I slowed. It was the man with the blue baseball cap. He wore a dark blue jacket and jeans. His hair was long and brown and seemed like it hadn't been washed in weeks. A dark beard had begun to grow, littering his cheeks and chin with brown hair. His face was a mask of calm composure, confident in this fight. From what I could tell, the High Pitched man lay on the ground, holding a bloodied nose. Raymond had a knife out, my crimson blood dripping from the edges of the metal. Tommy had his fists up. Another man was crouched. He was thin and gangly, like Tommy. Reminded me of Golem. To add in effect, the man spat out a wad of mucus onto the ground. The menacing long haired man just stood there, completely unfazed by the group. Tommy struck first, hopping over to the Mystery man. He swung his right fist forward, knocking Tommy off to the side. Tommy didn't give up, refused even. He charged again. The man kneed Tommy in the stomach and kicked him away, suddenly acting upon Golem. He slid to the right and leapt into the air, twirling as his foot connected with Golem's head, forcing the ugly creature away. Raymond hollered and charged, his knife pointed at the man. The man just blinked and bent his knees, his hands raised up defensively. Raymond lifted the knife to keep it level with his chest and sprinted forth. Once he was only a foot away did the man react. His left fist swung upwards, coming in contact with Raymond's chin. My attacker flew backwards for many yards, his body limp and tumbling as he rolled away. My savior straightened his legs and was about to leave. Yet, he paused, hesitated. My chest heaved as I began my descent to the driver's side. As I moved forth, my hand slipped from steadying myself on the car, my left leg gave out.
My descent to the pavement was short lived as my arm smacked into the ground, my leg screaming. I clasped a hand over my mouth, feebly trying to silence the sob that threatened to escape me. My shoulders shook as tears dripped down my cheeks. My eyes met those of my Savior's. He stared at me, wide-eyed. Then, he proceeded forward, his movements jagged, as if he didn't know how to approach me. I slid myself back, my spine pressing into my car. I shook my head multiple times, as if refusing for him to come near me. The man knelt in front of me, left hand on his knee, right hand reaching for me. His expression asked me what was wrong.
"M-…my leg, he cut me," I whispered, my voice oddly low and scratchy. My blue eyes widened drastically as he leaned near me. His eyes were green; he was attractive. His features were defined, yet seemed soft. I held my breath as he pulled back, my keys in his left hand. My Savior wrapped his right arm around me, his arm underneath my pits. I could feel the muscles ripple as he raised me gently to my feet. I hopped onto my right foot, carefully raising my left leg. My Savior walked me slowly to the passenger's seat, opened the door, and seated me. I pulled the seat belt over my body, hissing with pain as my blood leaked everywhere.
"Ooh, God, I need a hospital. Probably stitches…"
I glanced at the man now in my car. He stuck the keys into the ignition, the engine roaring to life.
"What's your name?" I asked, my eyelids fluttering. I was tired, not only physically, but also mentally. With the back of my hand, I wiped away tears. My Savior started to drive my car, making sure to be careful with the speed limit. Finally, he glanced at me, but our gazes locked momentarily. What was he thinking? My heart thumped steadily against my chest as I watched him watching me. His jaw worked for a second before he spoke, the confidence drained from his voice.
"Bucky," his voice was kind of deep with a slight accent. It seemed as if he hadn't spoken in such a long time. My Savior seemed uncertain about the answer, as if he wasn't even sure that that was his name. I nodded and leaned my head against the window, letting several emotions swarm over me. I held myself as I cried, attempting to silence my sobs.
"Thank you, thank you," I sniffed, salty tears streaming down my cheeks. It probably wasn't very smart of me to get in a car, my car to be specific, with a stranger, but what else could I have done? Limped my way to the hospital, with several shadows and strangers at my back? The man saved my life. Not like there was anybody else I could have put my faith in. Bucky nodded, and stared ahead. 20 minutes later, we arrived at a hospital. Bucky helped me out and I limped over and into the main room, feeling Bucky's arm let go of me. I leaned against the counter, one hand pressed against my wound, the other on the counter.
"I need a doctor, or someone to stitch me up," I asked, the nurse nodding quickly. She let me lean against her and started to guide me to a room. I glanced back, blue eyes desperately searching to meet with those dark green eyes. He was gone. I was about to give up until I saw his figure beyond the glass doors of this hospital. He stood there, his baseball cap on, both sleeves pushed up slightly. My eyes widened as they saw the glimmer of silver on his left arm. Then, he was gone. The nurse tugged me into the room, telling me to take off my clothes, put this gown on, and lay down on my stomach.
Did I imagine it? Who was this Bucky that I had met? Something about his face seemed familiar. Like I had seen him before. The only question was where.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Bucky repeated the name over and over in his mind. The soldier shoved his hands into his pockets of his dark colored jacket, nearly ripping the pockets off. Long greasy brown hair that brushed against his jawline had been tucked behind his ears. Brown stubble grew on his cheeks and chin. A blue baseball cap had been stuffed onto his head, attempting to hide his face from the people of Washington D.C. He was on the run, been on the run for a while now. Though, the incidents with Hydra and Captain America weren't too long ago.
James Buchanan Barnes.
He remembered everything clearly. The man on the bridge, the man on the ship. Blonde hair, blue eyes, stars and stripes. The man insisted that they were friends, insisted that the soldier's name was Bucky. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Memories slowly slid into place, but he still couldn't place them correctly. Faces would get mixed, events that had occurred would be blurred. To help clear his mind and attempt to figure out who he was, Bucky had gone to a Smithsonian. Over to his section. Some glass like wall had a large face on it. Bucky's face. His name had been scrawled into the wall.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Steve Rodgers. That's the man on the bridge's name. Time and time again, he had saved him. Bucky stared at his picture, green eyes widened with…astonishment, horror? He felt his heart stop in mid-beat. He had to get out. A mask of calm contentment slid over his face, tucking himself away from the world. He turned around, stopping short once he met the eyes of a child.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Two small children stared up at him, wide-eyed. Both wore Captain America shield t-shirts. One was a little girl, the other a little boy. Both had blonde hair. Twins. The little girl stared up at him and gave a wide and toothy smile, pointing at Buck.
"Bu-ck-y," the boy heavily emphasized the Winter Soldier's name and smiled widely at him. Bucky backed up and slid to the left, quickly shoving his way out. He felt almost suffocated in this throng of people. Funny to say that, considering he had to hide among people to commit an assassination.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Then, Bucky ended up here. In this parking lot. It wasn't too dark, but something about it seemed ominous the way the shadows stretched across the black pavement. Bucky was comfortable hiding in the dark. It's where he belonged. A few minutes pass before a young lean woman is sprinting to her vehicle. Bucky watched her from under his ball cap. She thrust her car key into the slot, unlocking it with speed, and practically ripped the door open. She was scared, terrified of an unseen threat. Bucky noticed that she merely glanced at him before jumping, another man behind her. Three more gathered behind her.
"C'mon sweet thing why you running?" the man asked. The woman dived into the car, but was unlucky in her endeavor. The man that had grabbed her pulled her out, and got on top of her, holding her down with his body weight. Bucky's muscles clenched as he watched the scene unfold. He needed to do something. No, it wasn't his problem. But it's happening right there! The soldier gritted his teeth, something inside of him screaming to go and help her.
"Don't take all of the fun out of it, Tommy," one of the men laughed and took a step forward. Bucky's fists clenched together in rage as past morals began to resurface.
"Don't interrupt me Raymond!" The one named Tommy dragged the girl further from her car and then stood, viciously kicking her in the side. She still fought Tommy though, and jumped up, running along the side of the car. She had to be hurting by now. The one named Raymond suddenly hopped over to her and stopped her, forcefully bending her over until her chest was flat against the trunk of her vehicle. The middle-aged man was disgusting. He was fatty looking, balding, and seemed like he was trying to be cool by donning a faded leather jacket. Bucky began to creep forward, sticking to the shadows as cover. He reflexively bunched up his fists, clenching and releasing them like he'd always done before a fight. The metal plates on his arm shifted as if he was flexing a normal muscle. He shifted his jacket to make it more comfortable to walk.
"HEL-!" the woman screeched, causing Bucky to walk faster, his jaw muscles working with a fiery angry. His hand automatically touched his hip, feeling a bit empty without the weight and feel of his guns.
He was James Buchanan Barnes.
"She's a fighter, eh?" Raymond commented, causing the group to chortle. A scowl fixated itself onto Bucky's dirty face. Finally, the ex-soldier had made it close enough for one of the men to see him.
"Wow, hey dude, leave us alone," one of the men said, furrowing his eyebrows. Bucky spread his legs slightly, making the dark 6 foot figure even more intimidating. Raymond paid no attention to what was happening. Apparently, he held a knife between his fingers, blood already dripping from the tip. Bucky directed his gaze to the man who attempted to shoo him away.
"Did you hear me fucktard? I said to leave-oof!" Bucky swung his right fist at the man, the mass of force connecting with the man's nose. The stranger had been lucky that the Winter Soldier had used his normal arm instead of his metal one. The puny human fell onto the ground, holding his nose, blood gushing from between his fingers. A smirk threatened to tear through Bucky's mask of calm composure, but he held it back. Just like they had trained him to. Raymond turned around, his knife poised in case of attack. Another one of the men crouched down, his back arched and looked sickly. He spat onto the ground, a large wad of slimy white mucus falling out. Bucky sniffed.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Tommy swung first. Bucky easily fended him off and hit in the side, staying with his right arm. Tommy was knocked down, but the rapist refused to quit. He hopped onto his feet once more and charged at the soldier. Bucky was nearly insulted at how easy the fight was. So, he simply kneed Tommy in the gut and kicked him away, leaving the man to roll on the ground, groaning dully. The soldier acted upon the crouched man and leapt gracefully into the air, his foot slamming into the side of the man's head; it knocked him out instantly. The body slumped to the ground, his face landing into his mucus.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Raymond snarled and pointed the tip of his knife directly at Bucky. In response, the Winter Soldier bent his knees, readying himself for the fat man's oncoming attack. With a scream, Raymond ran forth, closing the distance between him and the muscular man. Until Raymond was only a foot away did Bucky react. He swung his metal arm backwards before having it snap forth, crushing into the man's face, instantly killing him. The body of the middle-aged man was flung backwards and didn't land until it was a good few yards away. The body was limp. Bucky wasn't even panting.
James Buchanan Barnes.
He heard something hit the ground, causing Bucky's gaze to snap to the near-forgotten woman. He had been so wrapped up in his little fun that he had completely forgot about her. Guilt rose in his gut. Clearly, she was wounded; her face a bit bloodied and bruised, her leg pulsing blood. A scared expression was imprinted upon her face as she pushed herself away, her spine pressed into the car. Bucky awkwardly moved forward, unsure at how to approach the wounded stranger. Once close enough, the soldier knelt, metal hand resting on his knee, normal hand reaching for the woman. He put on a concerned expression, not really caring to speak.
"M-…my leg, he cut me," she spoke quietly, as if her voice might wake the dead and unconscious men. The woman was actually rather beautiful. Slightly slanted Blue eyes adorned with straight black hair and golden skin. Small dots of freckles were faint upon her cheeks. Her full lips were parted from panting as she stared up at Bucky, eyes widened. The two studied before Bucky reached out for her again, slipping his hand next to her, grasping for the keys. He could feel her breath on his neck; Bucky swore he heard her heart thumping. Once his fingers found the familiar feeling ridges, he pulled back and placed his right arm around her back and under her armpits, lifting her as he did, keys now in his left metal hand. Bucky slowly walked the woman to the passenger's side of the car and allowed her to slide in before climbing into the driver's seat. He pushed the key into ignition, hoping he remembered how to drive one of these things.
"Ooh, God, I need a hospital. Probably stitches…" the woman muttered, groaning. Hospital, right. Bucky narrowed his eyes, once more hoping that he even knew where a hospital was. He glanced at the woman. Racking his brain for any memory of a hospital, he quickly remembered seeing one not too far away.
"What's your name?" she suddenly asked. Bucky started the car and drove onward, pulling out of the parking lot. He stared at the road, eyes wide in surprise at why she had asked such a stupid question. No one needed his name. Everyone hated him. His name was little of importance. Besides, giving a name would be pointless. She would never see him again and he probably really intimidated her, like he did everyone. One look at his scraggly like hair, large figure, and dead green eyes usually made normal people run. Besides, it probably wasn't even his real name. He had only just received this information from the man on the bridge, who he vaguely remembered. So, the man decided to use the other name that "Steve" had used for him, when he had first saw his face.
"Bucky," Bucky responded and didn't look at the woman. She stared at him for a bit, then returned her gaze to the window, leaning her head against the glass. Suddenly, she burst out in tears, sobbing as she hugged herself awkwardly, obviously her leg still paining her.
"Thank you, thank you," she cried with her head bowed, shoulders shaking. Bucky felt awkward, knowing that his past self has to have had at least some experience with crying woman. He continued to drive to the hospital, praying to whatever that he was even going to the right way. Finally, the bright lights of D.C. Hospital shined in the windows.
Bucky pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and got out of the car, quickly walking to the other side to help out the woman. The soldier helped the girl into the hospital, then quickly went off on his own. Something made him pause and turn. Bucky faced the hospital, staring through the glass doors; his gaze was trained on the mysterious woman. A nurse was helping her hop along, but at that moment, she too had turned. Their gazes met. The Winter Soldier stood there, endlessly staring before she was forced into a room.
Bucky turned once more and began to walk off, regretting the fact that he never received the woman's name. Thoughts of the previous events popped up into his mind, at how he was a hero. At how past morals resurfaced from the blank slate that was his mind. A look of determination became etched into his face, making people veer away from him.
He was James Buchanan Barnes. And he was remembering.
Edited: fixed most grammatical errors, added trigger warning, fixed metal arm confusion.