AN: Hey there everyone, I have finally returned to post a story once again! It's been many years since I've posted one of my works here (most of which are deleted) - and I would like to say I have grown much as a writer since. This is my first time writing a story on Captain America, so please bear with me. This story is currently un-betad, but if anybody would be up for the job feel free to shoot me a message! Now, onto the story...
He was broken. A weapon, lost and confused without a mission or Master. Hydra had fallen. But The Winter Soldier knew, you cut off one head and two more will grow back in its place. He felt numb as he wandered, mind racing with a thousand thoughts. He had questions, and he wanted answers. Who was the man on the bridge? Why did he act like he knew him? Why did The Soldier feel like he knew him? Who the hell was Bucky? He knew the answer to the last question at least. After fishing the Captain out of the river (why did he do that? He was his mission. He failed his mission.) The Soldier had gone to The Smithsonian. He had seen the posters, and had gone through the Captain America exhibit. James Buchanan Barnes. The man who had his face. "Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers where inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country." The recording said this, but The Soldier knew it to be false. He was alive, and he was no war hero like the exhibit painted him to be. No he was a killer. Scratch that, Bucky Barnes was dead. He was the monster who remained, who had stolen that mans body.
He remembered nothing of that life. All the Soldier knew was pain and suffering both at Hydra's hands and for them. "You are to be the new fist of HYDRA!" ... "Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped this century..." ... "'Prep him.' 'He's been out of cryo-freeze too long.' 'Then wipe him and start over.'" The Soldier grit his teeth, the memories bombarding him like a freight train. A train... The Soldier had few to none memories, but sometimes he dreamed of falling. But was it just a dream? He had it many times, and now he knew the man on the bridge to be there. But how could he dream of someone he didn't know? But he did know him. Or least this Bucky did. "Argh!" He punched the alley wall in frustration. Why couldn't he remember anything?! Why?! He needed to know. He needed to find his mission (no, not his mission, not anymore) he needed to find him and he needed to remember.
He wandered the streets of New York in a daze. He had no idea where to go or what to do now that HYDRA had no hold over him. This freedom, it was strange and stifling. And while a big part of him wanted to search out the man on the bridge and remember, another part of him wanted to do nothing more than run back to HYDRA. Remembering...it was painful. A part of him wished to go back, enter cryo, to embrace the cold harsh winter and forget all that had happened. At least with cryo he didn't dream. He had so little memories, but every time he closed his eyes now, more and more bombarded him. He was a monster, he had killed men, women, and children without remorse. He didn't deserve to be free, for his hands were painted red. He was just as evil as HYDRA themselves.
But besides memories of his actions as The Asset, he also dreamed of peace and happiness. In these dreams (or were they memories?) the man from the bridge was there. He was much smaller in the dreams, much to his confusion. But nevertheless, it was the same man. He was there in the dreams as well, or at least the man he must have used to be. They were laughing together, and smiling. "I'm your friend!" The man from the bridges voice echoed in his mind. Could he be? Could they really once have been comrades in another life? No, impossible it couldn't be...right? They were merely dreams. Dreams of a better world, one where his every waking moment was not a nightmare. But they just couldn't be true.
He stumbled on his feet in the crowded streets of New York, feeling strangely exhausted. He had been walking around for five days straight, doing nothing but wandering aimlessly. On the third day he collapsed, luckily in an area with no-one around. It was then that he realized he needed to sleep now. Now, in the present, he stumbled again - and resigned himself to the fact he needed a break. He wandered into a cold abandoned alley, intending to rest his eyes for only a moment or two. But the cold harsh darkness of sleep enveloped him, and the memories came once again.
Meanwhile in Avengers Tower...
"Steve, look man, you've got to take a break." Sam Wilson tried to reason with his friend. "Working yourself to death like this is not going to help anyone." He added. "I can't stop, Sam - I just can't. Knowing that Bucky is out there, somewhere, in New York is driving me crazy." Steve replied, rubbing at his temples as he scanned the computer screen for any signs of Bucky's whereabouts. Stark had put up a special software that inputted Bucky's face, so if any cameras happened to spot him they would get a location as to where. So far however, they had come up empty-handed. "Ever since Natasha handed me his folder, I haven't been able to sleep. Do you know what HYDRA did to him? He's been through hell!" Steve insisted.
"Yeah, I know. I read the folder too." Sam sighed. "But Steve, staring at a blank computer screen is not going to help us find him any faster. Take a break. Take a shower. Just, for gods sake, eat something. Neglecting your health is not helping anyone." Sam practically pleaded. "If anything comes up, I'll come and get you." He promised. Steve huffed a little, but finally conceded. "Fine. But if anything, and I mean anything comes up..." Steve trailed off. "I'll tell you, don't worry." Sam finished, nodding his head.
So Steve got up, pushing in his chair and reluctantly headed towards the kitchen. He made himself a sandwich, with mayo, mustard, and all the good stuff - then sat down and began to eat. He ate as his mind went back to the folder Natasha had handed him on the soldier known as The Winter Soldier. When he had finally managed to sit down and read the contents of the folder, he really wished he hadn't. Torture, plain and simple, is what his old friend had gone through. It was enough to make Steve so furious that he felt like raiding any remaining HYDRA bases himself and blowing them to the high heavens.
He sighed for the umpteenth time, standing up and depositing his napkin in the trash, and putting his plate in the sink. He rinsed it off, then put it in the dishwater so Stark wouldn't complain. Not like Tony ever did the dishes himself anyways, usually Pepper or Steve himself ended up doing them. Steve then moved to his room in the tower, laying out a clean change of clothes on his bed and hopping in the shower. As the warm water hit his skin, and he began to wash his hair - he made a promise to himself. He would find Bucky, no matter what the cost. He would find him and help him, no matter how damaged he was. Because Bucky was his friend - his best friend in fact. And he was with him until the end of the line.
AN: And here we conclude the first chapter! A little short, I know, but the story will pick up soon. Please tell me what you thought of it by leaving a review! Did you like it, hate it? Anything that could use improving? Constructive criticism is always appreciated!
