The clinking whir of his mechanical arm settling into place filled the air as he stared at the remnants of the laptop that just collided with the wall. Weeks he spent researching, reading every file that he possibly could get his hands onto. Anything that might actually reveal who he is, who he was. That man, Captain America, had called him Bucky. Had insisted they were friends and that was where it all started.
The debris on top of him are crushing, the weight is immense. His breathing is shaky, coming quicker as he weakly tries to push the metal up. This can't be the end. Shutting his eyes, he tries shoving upwards again only to find that both of him arms don't want to react; one due to the searing pain running through the nerves and the other because it's lodged between debris. He has to get out, free himself. There's no other way. They aren't going to send somebody to assist him, there's not extraction for him.
He's a weapon, something that can be rebuilt in another form, Why would they waste valuable assets to retrieve him from a metal death trap.
The thud of heavy boots hitting the ground draws his attention, eyes opening as he flicks his gaze over. Captain America. Nostrils flaring, he pushes harder at the debris. There is no way that he's getting out alive while under all of this. The super soldier must be planning to finish the job. He had completed his mission while the Winter Soldier had failed. There was no reason to try to avoid confrontation.
Especially not with an enemy as vulnerable as him in these moments.
His breath catches in his throat as the Captain does the opposite, eyes going wide as the man grabs the beam crushing him and starting to lift. Hope flutters in his chest, beating like a trapped bird. The moment the beam is high enough, the Soldier pulls himself out of the fray, away from the beam with a groan. The nerves in his arm are on fire, his stomach screamed at him with every movement and the shocks from his robotic went straight to the nape of his neck.
"You know me." The man says as he staggers to his feet. The Soldier's eyes widen a fraction as his nostrils flare. He looks at the Captain for a brief second before curling his lips back in a sneer as the face connectssomewherein the back of his mind. Where, he didn't know.
"No I don't!" The words were harsh and honest. He didn't know him. He couldn't. He moves forward fast, metal arm clinking as he draws it back and slams it into the Captain. They're both sent stumbling on the glass.
"Bucky. You've known me your whole life." With a yell, the Soldier doesn't wait for the Captain to say anymore. He's moving forward once more, metallic fist slamming into the man. He needed to shut up. He was wrong. He was wrong.
"Your name is James Buchnanan Barnes." Sargent James Barnes reporting for duty. The words echoed in his head and his chest constricted.
"Shut up!" The words were more desperate this time as he slammed into the man. He stumbles back a step and watches him remove the mask. Twinkling blue eyes that felt achingly familiar stared at him clear as day.
"I'm not gonna fight you." The idiotic words came from the man followed by the even more idiotic move of dropping his shield through the hole below them. Idiotic but brave.
He just didn't know when to give up.
"You're my friend." The words hit a nerve and he wasn't sure what it was exactly. He moved forward quickly, shoving any emotions back as he tackles the man to the ground./
His foot slammed into the coffee table hard as an animalistic noise tore out of his throat. It was because of that punk that he had started this search. This lost cause. Who was he? He was a weapon. He was an assassin, a tool for the KGB. A tool for HYDRA. A tool for whoever was willing to purchase him from his former owner.
He wasn't a friend. He wasn't even a person.
He was a weapon.
"C'mon Buck. I can take care of myself, really." He just places a hand on Steve's head, ruffling his hair up with a chuckle.
"No doubt on that one punk. Doesn't mean that you can't have help y'know."
The ache in his chest built, constricting and it felt like he couldn't breathe. His skin felt tight, he felt trapped. He wasn't Captain America's friend. He wasn't. His foot impacted with the beat up couch, sending it hurtling into the wall where it collapsed onto itself finally.
"Why," he hissed the word out. Hands moving into his hair, he tugged hard on the stands as the word kept tumbling out of his mouth. Why. Just why.
"Come on Steve, just breathe buddy. It's going to be alright." He rubs Steve's chest gently as the man struggles to breathe, each sound a terrible wheeze. He places his lips against the mans temple, kissing him gently. "C'mon buddy." It wasn't the first time he'd done this, helped the man he loved through but God did he wish that it was the last.
His body slammed into the hard drywall, indenting it but not crashing quite through it. No. "No." He yanked as his hair, pulling strands of it out.
"You just don't know when to give up do you?" He'd heard the noises of a fight from the narrow end of the alley, pausing as his attention was drawn over. Don't say it's so. Pivoting, he headed into the alley hoping he was wrong but either way he'd step in.
"I can do this all day." The words come between pants, huffed out from that familiar voice. Aww Steve. The thud of a fist meeting flesh and then the scattering of trash cans.
"Hey." He wasted no time in grabbing the punk and tossing him aside. "Pick on somebody your own size." The mans aim was terrible, extremely off which gave Buck the perfect opening to deck him across the kiss and give him a boot in the arse to help him on his way. Watching the idiot go, he swung around and sauntered back to Steve. "Sometimes I think you like getting punched."
"I had him on the ropes."
"Make it stop." A command, an attempt to get these false memories away. They weren't his, they weren't. Whirring filled the room as his bionic hand let go of his hair and the arm slammed into the wall, going through to the other side.
He entered the bedroom and the smirk graced his features at the small man sleeping in bed. "Hey, Stevie." He called as walked over, coffee for him in his hand. "Wake up." There was a small groan from the smaller man as he shifted on the bed. He placed the coffee on the table next to the bed before leaning over the bed. "We have things to do today buddy." Steve murmured something undistinguishable. Chuckling, he placed a kiss to the mans temple and gave him a slight shake. "C'mon. Before your cup of joe gets cold."
"Only for another kiss." The man mumbled, looking over him with a groggy grin. Bucky couldn't help the laugh at the response.
"Typical." Leaning down he kissed the frail man gently and briefly. "Now get your arse in gear would you."
Yanking his arm free of the wall, he couldn't see anything through his bleary vision.
"You're my mission." The words are spat out. Raising his fist, he brings it to the man's face with no hesitation, slamming his knuckles against his check, his jaw several times over. Drawing his arm back again, he can't bring his fist to the mans face. Twinkling blue eyes stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Then finish it…" He trailed off, the Soldier's arm twitched as he urged to bring it down, to stop that look in those damn eyes. "'Cause I'm with ya till the end of the line." His breath catches in his throat, arm starting to tremble as he just stares at him. Till the end of the line. Screeching metal fills his ears as the structure around them collapses. The Soldier's arm moves quickly, snagging a bar that remains standing as Captain America plummeted towards the water and crashed beneath its depths.
Till the end of the line.
His grip on the bar released and he plummeted down, ignoring the panic building in his chest as the wind whistled by him.
An agonized cry is wrenched from him as he slides down the wall. He barely chokes out the sob as his head drops forward, tears dropping onto his pants.
He wasn't Bucky. He couldn't be. James Barnes died in that river, he couldn't have survived the fall and surely, surely if he had then Steve would have saved him.
Steve would have saved Bucky. They were until the end of the line.
A blast, limbs flailing and hands scrambling to grab onto something, grab onto anything. The handle in his grasp was cold but it was firm. It was something solid.
"Bucky!" Steve's voice rings out off to his right. It sounds so far away because of the howling winds.
"Hang on!" If he wasn't focused on doing so, he would've made a snarky remark but as it was not falling to his death was a bit more of a priority. Managing to look up, he stared into Steve's terrified gaze. The bar creaks and threatens to drop him to the icy grave below He attempts to reach quickly, swinging back and causing his heart to momentarily stop in his chest.
"Grab my hand!" Swallowing hard, he lets go with his right hand and reaches. But it's too far. It's too far and his left hand isn't strong enough. He can feel his grip slipping before it happens. The edge of the bar breaks off, slipping backwards.
"No!" He can't hear anything over the hammering of his heart in his ears, the rushing of his own blood. The bar snaps and for just a brief second he feels as if he were floating.
Air rushes past him, the train falling away as the scream tears its way out.
His fist crashed into the hardwood below him, metal eating through wood quickly. "I am not Bucky." He chokes the words out, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "I am not Bucky." Is this a statement or something to convince himself of? He wasn't sure.
Steve was a liar.
"You said until the end of the line." The words are quiet, harsh and all to himself. "Then why did you let me fall.To the end of the line means until the end of the line."
But he wasn't Bucky. So Steve hadn't lied to him. No. He'd lied to his best friend, the man who had died seventy years ago.
Through all the pain consuming him, the rage welling within him, he knew one thing for certain.
He would follow the man until the end of the line, consciously or not. He always kept his word to Steve.