PROLOGUE
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters except my own.
They had strapped him down. Again. He had long since lost count. It was so bright. The light. Doctors probed at his arms. Syringes connected him to – his arm hurt. He turned his head to look at it. This was not what it was supposed to look like, was it? All metal. Gear latching into gear. Not an arm. A machine. Deadly.
Around him doctors scribbled away on their clipboards. No one bothered looking him in the eye. They were too busy checking and writing and – writhing. No. That was not the right word. What was the word? His thoughts stumbled over fragments of things half remembered. Snowy mountains. The feeling of falling. Then cold. So very cold.
He looked around. Along the walls, guards stood on alert. Only they watched his every movement. In case he did…what? It had to be some reason they were here. He couldn't remember. Anymore.
When had he started complying? Words faded in and out of his mind. Either memories or fragments of former tests. Languages? Did he understand the doctors? Did they always speak that among themselves? When did he learn their language? He was sure he hadn't always understood them. Not in the beginning when…
The days blurred into one another. Another day, another test. Pain. That he could remember very clearly.
Pain from cutting off the stump of his arm. Searing through his veins relentlessly for days.
Pain from infusions knocking him out. Headaches when he awoke.
Pain from his new arm. His shoulder. Burning pain.
And in-between, the nothingness that encompassed his brain as soon as he found sleep. Or bouts of erratic resistance. Last attempts. A caged animal, rebelling. If the nightmares didn't hunt him. Scared blue eyes flashed before his mind's eye. A voice full of agony called out to him. The words he couldn't make out. Not anymore. The memory faded. And with it a low groan escaped him.
The straps cut into his flesh as he flexed his muscles. His back arched. Instantly he had everyone's attention. Stillness fell over the room. They stared at him with…fear? Expectancy? Hunger? Maybe. Guards, hands on weapons. Ready. But, why?
He couldn't remember any longer. His eyes closed of their own accord. The buzzing dimmed to a faraway memory. A memory he would forget, as he seemed to forget everything.
Someone watched him. Watched him intently.
Slowly he forced his eyes open. They were used to being pressed close to block out the pain. Not that it helped. Bright light. Doctors plugged new catheters into him. His head was strapped into some kind of contraption. No one watched him. Maybe it was just his imagination…
And her.
A female in a white lab coat. Irritatingly white. Luminescent? She lingered in the twilight. Just behind the bustling staff. No one talked to her. No one but him seemed to notice her. Her midnight hair spilled in cascades over – he had never seen such green eyes. That he was sure of for once. Even if he couldn't remember why... She looked pale. Maybe new? A new attendant? Unused to this? He couldn't focus on her. Maybe cold, his brain supplied. Maybe ill.
A strange sense of urgency pulled at his gut. Told him to do something. Do…help… Why?
The doctors ceased moving. The woman stepped forward and his mind seemed to clear. Her smile was comforting, but not warm.
"Who are you?", she asked quietly. He looked at her mutely. What a strange question? He didn't… He remembered. "James Buchanan Barnes." His voice hurt. He hadn't spoken so long.
"Good. Good, soldier," she soothed. "You've hold out so long. Been so brave. I have to admit, I am impressed." The woman stepped into the circle of too bright light he was surrounded by. He flinched. Her skin was icy-blue, the eyes burned with sunset red. The black locks curled around her face like snakes.
"What?!" he rasped.
Bright eyes widened slightly before a smirk tugged at her lips. "You can see through my illusion. Not bad. Not many mortals can achieve this." Her eyes twinkled. "I am the goddess of death. And I have a proposition to make."
Conscious thought along with fragments of memories returned to him. I fell into an abyss. In the mountains."Death. I should have died then." The goddess remained calm: "But you didn't. You survived. Until now. However, if they finish this test on you, you'll cease to exist. What remains will be their loyal hound. An empty shell ready to fulfil each command they give."
He looked up at her with fear. His memories told him that these people were trying to make him what his best friend had become. Only worse. So much worse. And then… "He thinks I'm dead."
"He does. And he will get over it."
"Free me!"
She looked down at him as he writhed in his contraption. Death seemed to know something he didn't. "I can't." Her voice sounded small, broken, even though her face didn't let it on. "I cannot kill them. Their time hasn't come. And I can't free you, because it would alter not only your fate, but his as well. Nothing good has ever come from that, trust me." Death looked down at him with sad eyes.
She speaks of experience, his suddenly waking brain supplied. However, he decided against saying anything to Death. And so, she continued: "The only thing I can give you is a shot at a future. A future free of all this. Free – and with loved ones." His eyes found hers again. They stared at each other. Two unlikely allies.
How do I know you won't just kill me?The unspoken question hung in the air between them. "Your time hasn't come yet. I promise, I am merely here to help you. Fate has a strange way of waving the net. Your time hasn't come. You need to live through this." She raised her chin defiantly. Despite her name and appearance, Death seemed honourable. He watched her silently for another minute. "You resisted so long. Far longer than anyone else," Death emphasized. "Let me help you."
He nodded then. Once.
