Reset, a captain america fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America, or Bucky Barnes, though I wish I do.
I'm new, and I hope I did this alright. Note that I am not above using swears. And sorry about the way it came out when I first posted it. The website recognized it as lines of code.

Bucky always knew the price of war. He knew the risk that came with serving your country, what could possibly happen, and he went anyways. He felt like he was never really suited for the life of a soldier, following orders and the constant barrage of work. Besides, he had people at home. There was his mother and his sisters. Even though Bucky had moved away years ago, he was still fairly close with his family.

And there was Steve Rogers, that little punk who never learned to run from a fight. Steve always had a truck-load of health problems. He was thin, frail and small who was constantly beat up in different alleyways. Yet Bucky felt responsible for him. Steve got sick every single winter, Bucky had a good reason for being protective of him. They had been best friends for years and years, and now seemed more like brothers that friends.

When Sarah Rogers passed away, Steve was left an orphan and Bucky repeatedly asked if Steve needed help, and he had always stubbornly refused, insisting he could get by on his own. He was like his mother that way. She stayed for as long as she could, not willing to give way to a sickness, yet died anyways. That was Steve and his mother for everyone, stubborn down to their last breath.

When Bucky was enlisted in the army to fight in the war and Steve didn't, the both knew it was a possible goodbye forever. He tried to make do with his last day before he would be shipped off to England, but it would never be enough. He thought of Steve and his family every single day he was away and missed them constantly, with an ache in his chest and wrote every chance he got.

And then he gets fucking captured and torturedby HYDRA, which was a group of some crazy evil bastards bent on world domination. What scared him was that he couldn't even remember what the hell they did to him. The time he spend strapped to that gurney was all a fuzzy blur. The only thing Bucky could remember clearly was needles, and pain. A lot of pain.

Bucky had been sure that he'd die on that gurney.

But Steve had bust into the HYDRA base to come and rescue him, and was no longer the Steve that Bucky remembered. He'd gone from a frail skinny kid who looked like you could shatter him with a single blow, to fucking Superman in the few months that he'd been gone.

It had caused a fair bit of confusion.

Turned out that Steve had taken some kind of serum that transformed his body and made him stronger, and that he was now Captain America, with his own theme song and everything.

Bucky teased him mercilessly about that last part.

It took a lot of getting used to. Bucky was used to being the strong one, the one who protected Steve from all harm and took care of him. But it seemed like their roles had been switched. Now Steve was the strong one, and he had fussed over Bucky like a mother duckling during his recovery in the medical tent, much to Bucky's displeasure.

Normally it was Bucky who did the fussing over, but Steve didn't need it anymore, and now it was Bucky who was smaller and weaker. For many weeks following being rescued, Bucky felt so useless. He should've been happy for Steve. He was now the person he always wanted to be. But Bucky couldn't help but feel bitter about it and grimace every time a new fan comes along. He's seen Steve first. He'd seen what had taken a serum for everyone else to see.

Back before all the war and super-soldier shit happened, Bucky's main goal in life was to keep Steve alive and happy. Taking care of Steve made Bucky feel like he was worth something, made him feel like he was doing something good in life. Now he couldn't do that anymore. So when Steve asked Bucky to join the Howling Commandos, a unit that Steve was forming, Bucky said yes. He didn't have to be useless. He'd always have Steve's back in the fights. He'd always protect Steve the best he could. He could care less about Captain America.

Everything had gone well at first. Bucky was always at Steve's side when they took out more HYDRA bases. They were always together on missions, and nearly everything always went according to plan, surprisingly. And he'd formed something of a family with the other Commandos.

And there was that one last mission that couldn't have gone more wrong.

"Grab my hand!"

Bucky reached out for Steve's outstretched hand. His heart pounded frantically as he clung on to the railing attached to the side of the train as he hung hundreds of feet over a cliff.

The railing creaked dangerously and Bucky looked to Steve's terrified eyes, both knowing the same thing.

OhmygodohmygodohmygodshitshitshitshitI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadie

"NO!"

The railing gave away, and Bucky fell, screaming. He glimpsed Steve's horror-struck face as he fell. That wasn't right. Steve had never looked that way before, always with some stupid goofy grin whenever something was done right. He was always filled with life, that look just didn't suit him. Bucky wanted desperately to replace that face with something else-something happier. Don't make his last memory of Steve to be an anguished look!

He grabbed desperately as he fell down the side of the cliff for anything. He didn't want to die!

He fell on the side of the mountain, and he could feel its edge of some sharp rocks tearing into him and a horrible cracking sound sounded in his ears. Terrible agony pulsed through him as he screamed in pain, and fuzzy black spots filled his vision.

When his sight cleared, it was blurry, but he could tell he was lying on the frozen ground. He could feel the cold seeping in through his cold. He'd expected pain, but all he could feel was the cold. His mind felt hazy and numb and he could barely register any coherent thoughts.

Mission…. Failed….. Fall….. Cold…. I'm going to die…

Bucky managed to muster up enough strength to move his head to the side. He couldn't feel his left arm. But when he looked, his arm wasn't there. All that was left was a bloody stump.

My arm is gone.

The thought ran through his head multiple times before it fully registered. A sob worked its way up Bucky's throat, but instead, a bubble of blood arose and he choked and gagged on his own blood.

Red splotches was covering the ground around him as he looked past his arm, but as he looked to his right, blood covered the snow there too. He couldn't tell where all the blood was coming from or if he had any more injuries. He was too weak to lift his head.

I'm going to die.

Hot, fiery pain suddenly began to course through him. He didn't have the energy to scream anymore.

I'm going to die.

He would never see Steve again. Or any of the Commandos. Or his mother and his sisters. Bucky wanted to cry. He didn't know if he did or not, but there was a slight sting in his eyes and his vision blurred a little more.

I'm going to die.

He blacked out, feeling a rough hand dragging him away.

It was dark when Bucky woke up.

He was sitting on a cold hard floor with his back propped up against a brick wall. A metal door stood in the corner of the tiny room with the barred window on it letting in the smallest amount of light.

What…

It was not a place he recognized. Everything about the place was unfamiliar. Yet his gut feeling was screaming at him to run, to get out and never return.

He tried to sit up, but his left arm wouldn't move. When Bucky looked over, his arm wasn't there. His shoulder was heavily bandaged, but where the hell was his arm?

The memory of falling from the train hit him like a ton of bricks.

Oh my god. Where the hell am I?

He was supposed to be dead. He was expecting to be dead. No one could have survived that fall.

Bucky heard voices outside his cell and footsteps approaching. They weren't speaking English. That he could tell.

The door was thrown open and three men dressed in lab coats came in.

"Sergeant Barnes." One of them greeted in heavily accented English. "We have been waiting for you to wake up. We have much to do with you."

"What?!" Bucky shot, momentarily blinded by the light. He was shocked at the sound of his own raspy voice, like it hadn't been used for days.

"The two other people grabbed him by his right arm and dragged him to his feet and through the door.

"Wait!" Bucky yelled. "What are you doing to me?! What are you going to do?!"

He fought and thrashed around, but it did nothing as the two people were much stronger that he was in the state he was in. He was strapped to a gurney before getting wheeled down the hall, yelling a fighting the entire way.

He was wheeled into an all-white room filled with people dressed in white coats. He was stopped in front of a nasty-looking machine.

Oh no…

Bucky was suddenly flashed back to those long days he spend in the HYDRA base. The gurney. The terrible procedures. The men in white coats. He had shut out those memories the best he could after his rescue. It was all coming back to him.

His stomach clenched and his heart filled with dread.

They all began talking in that other language. Russian? His heart began to pound erratically as they started towards him. He watched as some others began to work with that machine. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were going to do.

"No!" Bucky screamed as they began hooking him up to it. "No! Don't!"
They simply gagged him and paid no attention to his muffled screams. The sound of a recording camera sounded and one doctor spoke in English.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes procedure phase 2 starting now. Electroshock therapy starting now in three… Two… One…"

The whine of static electricity sounded through the room.

Oh my god it hurts… It fucking hurts…

He screamed and screamed.

Bucky vaguely remembered being dumped back in his cell after for god-knows-how-long of that god dammed machine.

He remembered blacking out multiple times during the procedure.

His mind felt hazy and at any second, he was expecting to be back on the gurney again and screaming in pain.

"Name, rank, serial number." The man spat out after he dumped him in the cell.

Name?

He had a name, right? He struggled to think through the murky depths of his mind, trying to remember his name.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes 32557038." A voice whispered to him. It was the mantra keeping him sane back in the HYDRA base in Austria.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes 32557038." He repeated confidently to the man. He looked momentarily angry before slamming the door loudly. Bucky could hear his heavy footsteps marching away.

Another memory resurfaced in his mind. He remembered talking to a skinny kid with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was grinning.

"My friends call me Bucky." He had said, grinning.

Bucky clung onto that memory. "My friends call me Bucky." He repeated to himself. And that kid, he seemed important somehow. He seemed somehow familiar. His name?

"My name is Steve. Steve Rogers." The kid replied.

"Steve." Bucky repeated.

The men came back for him. Day after day. At least he thought it was days. He couldn't tell the time here. Maybe it was hours. Weeks. He had no idea.

Every time he came back from the machine, he found that he remembered less and less every time. The thought made him panicky. He didn't want to forget.

Every time the man who dumped him off would ask for his name, rank and serial number. He was delivering his lines with much less confidence every time.

He started repeating things to himself over and over when he was alone in his cell. He was determined not to forget.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes 32557038. Call me Bucky.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes 32557038. Call me- Call me-

He grasped desperately for that name but nothing he came up with sounded right. Frustrated, he resumed with his lines.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes 32557038.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes 3- There was more?

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

Serge-Se- James Buchanan Barnes.

James Buchanan Barnes.

James Bu-Bu-

James.

He moaned as he rubbed his temples with his hands.

J. It started with a J.

He could no longer remember his name. He just woke up one day and it was gone. No matter how much he riffled through of what little remained of his memories, he couldn't find his name.

But he still had a vague memory a boy with blond hair. He gave off a sense of familiarity and warmth. He couldn't remember the boy's name, but he clung tightly to the image of him. He would not forget him too.

He heard the familiar pounding of steps outside his cell wall and the door was roughly thrown open again. He was dreading today's session, more than usual. It was likely he would no longer remember anything this time.

He was thrown and strapped down on a gurney and wheeled to the white room, as always. It was practically a routine by now. He braces himself as he hears the familiar whine of electricity. But nothing will ever get him used to the excruciating pain of the procedure.

He screams, no matter how much he tries to hold them back.

When he was taken back to his cell, the man asks, "Name, rank, serial number."

He tried to remember. But nothing came out.

I don't know anymore.

He was given a new arm. It took getting used to, but it was highly functional. He was then taken to another machine which left his mind as blank as the tiles on the floor. He forgets the blond-haired boy completely.

He was later approached by a man dressed in a fine suit. He studied him.

"Codename, Winter Soldier. I am your new handler." The man said.

So the man was his handler. Not a threat.

"Awaiting instructions sir." He replied.

The Winter Soldier sat on a bench in a disused park. He wore a baseball cap, a ratty hoodie and a torn pair of jeans. His posture tensed up every time someone walked by.

Codename Winter Soldier. Mission Objective: Kill Steve Rogers aka Captain America. Mission status: Failed.

He did not understand why he did not simply just complete the mission. Why did he drag the man out of the river? He could have left him to drown, which would leave his mission completed. So why didn't he?

The man seemed strangely familiar. And he had called him Bucky. That name sounded familiar as well.

He insisted he was his friend. The Winter Soldier does not have friends.

He said his name was James Buchanan Barnes. If Winter Soldier remembers correctly, that was the name of one of the man's allies during World War ll.

The Winter Soldier always researches his targets before killing them.

"You're my mission!"

"Then finish it. Because I'm with you till the end of the line."

Is it possible he wasn't always a weapon? Not always just the asset?

He would start off with the Smithsonian Museum. They had a Captain America exhibit going on.

The Winter Soldier sat up.

He had a lot to think about.

So this is my crappy interpretation of what happened to him after falling off the train. Some other fics about this left me heartbroken, so I wrote my own. I really hope no one hates this.

-Cece