Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America: The Winter Soldier or any of its characters.
This Is Gonna Hurt
Wind. That was all he remembered. The ice-cold wind biting in his skin, ripping at his clothes as the ground came closer and closer with every passing second. His screams echoing through the mountains while the voice of a guy who had been with him for most of his life called out for him.
"Bucky, no!"
The collision. The blinding pain that followed shortly after, traveling up the length of his spine and throughout his entire body, setting every nerve ending on fire. And then blackness.
Lips parted to make way for a painful grunt as I awoke. I opened my eyes, squinting against the bright light of. . .of what, exactly? Gathering some of the little energy I had left, I pushed myself into a sitting position, every single muscle of my body screaming in protest. Once oculars had gotten somewhat accustomed, they briefly swept over the place. The walls were white, as were the table standing in the room, the cotton sheets of the bed I was lying upon and pretty much every other object in the room.
After stretching either limb to get rid of the stiffness, I released a lengthy exhale, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I jumped down and the room instantly began to spin. "Crap.." I grumbled beneath my breath, hands lifting to massage my temples. Brows met in the middle of a creased forehead as soon as my left hand touched the skin. This didn't feel right.
"Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong.." I quietly muttered to myself. I stole a glance sideways and my stomach dropped at the sight. Metal. Where my left arm was supposed to be was now nothing but metal. I lifted my arm and held my hand up in front of my face, experimentally clenching and unclenching my fist. Despite the fact that it did everything I wanted it to, it no longer felt like my own arm. It no longer was my own arm.
The door opened. "You're awake." An unfamiliar voice with a heavy accent spoke.
I swiveled around only for eyes to catch sight of a short man standing in front of me. He was wearing a lab coat, a medical chart in his hand and a set of round glasses settled on top of his nose. Before I had the chance to say something, he'd already disappeared into the hallway, and before I knew it the piercing sound of an alarm sounded throughout the building. Within seconds, five heavily armed men stormed into the room, four pinning me down by both my arms and legs while the fifth inserted a needle into the vein in my neck, and it didn't take long for the anesthetics to kick in and rob me of my consciousness.
...
The second time I woke up, I was in another room. My arms were firmly pinned to the chair by two metal restraints, my head trapped in some kind of mechanic device.
"Where am I?" I spoke with a gruff voice. I began to struggle against the restraints, heartbeat increasing as confusion began to replace itself with panic. "I swear you're going to regret this. If Steve finds out I'm still alive he—" A doctor approached from my left cut my off by prying my mouth open to shove a mouthpiece inside. I tried to make out his features but was unable to due to the light shining directly in my face.
And then the pain started.
It began slow at first, a somewhat unpleasant tingle starting at my temples and slowly making its way down the rest of my body, and bit by bit the pain increased until it had me trashing and screaming in my chair, begging for them to make it stop.
The electric waves sent to my brain slowly took away what I knew. Experiences, faces, names. Everything I held dear. Memories were flashing before my eyes before they disappeared. I desperately tried to save them, but each one vanished.
A short, blonde-haired guy beaten up in an alley in Brooklyn. Gone. The same guy but taller, stronger. A uniform and a shield. Flashes of white, red, blue. Gone. Fellow soldiers trapped in a cage, writhing around in pain as whatever they were injected with slowly ate away at them from the inside out. Gone. Laughter, singing as they were on their way back to camp. Getting to fight beside his best friend. The mission. A guy reaching for his hand. Gone, gone, gone.
Everything was being removed, my mind wiped clean, leaving me hollow. Empty. But I couldn't - wouldn't let them take everything. Everything that made me who I was, who I aspired to be. So I plucked one of the memories from the mess that was swarming around in my brain. Blue eyes. Sad eyes, belonging to a very dear friend who had his loved ones taken from him. "Thank you, Buck. But I can get by on my own." I sighed. "The thing is, you don't have to." Bringing a hand forth, I rested it on his shoulder. "I'm with you till the end of the line, pal." He attempted a smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but he was trying, and for now, that was enough.
Bucky.
My name. My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I served in the war together with Steve Rogers. He is still out there, and I need to find him. I swore to protect him. I will not fail him.
My name is Bucky, and I mentally clung to the word as everything else was taken.
AN: Hey y'all. I know I've been slacking when it comes to updating my fics. Life's been pretty hectic lately with exams, switching colleges and some family drama. I had this RolePlay solo lying around and thought I'd share to make it up to you. Hope you like it.