No, the Frozen fic has not been abandoned. As I've stated before, it's against my nature to leave things unfinished. It's just...one of those things that has to resonate with me before I post a new chapter. So I'll be posting shorter fics and little ficlets in the interim. Especially since Captain America just kind of lit my soul on fire.

Anyways, this fic is Bucky-centric and a crossover with Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. It's done in the same style as my first story around here, Encounter, but with completely different characters, and a slightly different premise. They technically couldn't be considered part of the same timeline because the FMAB events are out of order, chronologically speaking, but if you really want to stretch it, we can just call upon space-time discrepancies.

As a whole, I think this is one of my more difficult fics, because Bucky as a character is hard to write. Most of his dialogue is inner monologues that we don't ever actually see or hear onscreen, so it's not really an easy matter trying to capture his inner conflict, including his machine-like training and disregard for personal safety for the sake of the mission, the chaotic nature of his thoughts when that is thrown off, and ultimately his transition from neutral evil to ambiguity. That being said, I find Bucky's character just as fascinating as Loki's, even if he doesn't have the Hiddleston Puppydog Eyes.


Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light,

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

-The Old Astronomer, Sarah Williams


They told him he was here to build the new world.

But how can you build through destruction?

They told him he that he had been created from nothing.

But how can you create something from nothing?

They told him he was the ultimate soldier.

Was there anything before the darkness?

They told him his mission, placed the rifle in his hands.

A rifle to take a life. A shield to protect one.

They told him he was The Winter Soldier.

But who the hell was Bucky?

And in the end, all returns to whence it came: Darkness.

Who was that man?

"Wipe him."

He didn't know the answer. So he returned to darkness.

Who was that man?

Who was that man?

Who was that man?

Who am…I?

The question rang round and round his head, through the darkness of his own mind. Somewhere, he that his body was forced back into yet another machine, and that he lay writing and screaming in agony. Somewhere, but not here. Here was darkness. His darkness. The one and only thing in this world he could claim as his.

There were images now, flickering at the edges of his vision, but they vanished, frustratingly, whenever he turned his head to search for them. It was worse than the darkness, worse than the silence, little snatches of sound and tiny traces of memories that should not could not belong to him.

Bucky?

Who the hell is Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky? Who the he—

"SHUT UP!" the scream burst forth, almost as real as the ones coming from his agonized body.

"I didn't say anything," said a voice he didn't know. He turned, surprised to find that the voice had been accompanied by a man equally unknown. The man was no sight to behold—tall, with short dark hair, a scruffy beard, and a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose. But he held himself like a man of the military, and although the wounds had long since healed over, there were the scars of combat reflected in the man's eyes.

He said nothing, turning to circle the stranger, uncertain how to react. This place, this darkness, was his and his alone, the little bit of mind left to him by his alliesownerscaptives. The man watched him without a trace of fear in his eyes, as though he knew that no blood could be spilt here.

"Well, this is odd…hello I guess," the man said at length, offering a hand that was never received. "And I seem to be passing this way en route to the…afterlife, I suppose? Are you dead too? Is this some sort of limbo? Because I may have to take this up with management…" The words tapered off as the stranger, Hughes, realized that they fell on deaf ears. Instead of discouragement though, he straightened up, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I am Brigadier General Maes Hughes of Amestris," he said, any warmth from his demeanor dropping off, "State your name and rank, soldier."