Soldier

"Ya gotov otvechat."

The pain was always first. His body would be cold and numb as they dragged him to the chair. Arms and legs would be held in position, preventing escape, preventing convulsions. Metal plates would close in on his face, claustrophobic in their nature. His heart rate would increase exponentially, his chest heaving as he tried to take in as much air as he could, bracing for what came next.

He would then hear screaming. Images would flash before his eyes: blood being spilled, people collapsing to their death, feel a cold chill of the snowflakes on his chest. Occasionally there was laughter, he could feel himself smiling, feel his arm go numb for a split-second after taking the shot. And always at the end of the process, he would see that punk too stupid to run away from a fight.

Then there would be nothing but blinding white and voiceless screaming as it was all taken away from him.

"Ya gotov otvechat."


People had come and gone out of the room since he had woken up. Some wore uniforms, their sidearm holstered but main weapons at the ready. A few were working on the machine he remained strapped to. They didn't concern him, the only thing that mattered was the mission.

But there was no mission. Not yet. Just a simple instruction: let the doctor examine you.

There was no doctor, though. Not yet. That left him with to watch those in the room as they moved, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, his thoughts haunting him.

The Winter Soldier knew what had been done to him, knew what he was, but he couldn't remember. He was an asset, a weapon for HYDRA. He knew an unfathomable amount of ways to kill a man, knew how to stalk, how to blend in, he could speak in many different languages. The protocol for his behavior was imprinted on him. Accomplish the mission exactly as was instructed, failure would result in punishment. He would not deviate and would not do anything more than what was required of him.

But he couldn't remember using those skills, accomplishing or failing missions, receiving or not receiving the punishment. He was the Winter Soldier, a weapon…

"You are to be the new fist of HYDRA!" The laughter danced inside his skull. Rage filled him as he clenched his fists together.

He was the Winter Solder, the fist of HYDRA, but he didn't remember ever being the Winter Soldier.

More people entered the room, standing just in front of the doors. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he recognized the man who would give him his orders and missions. The guards with weapons were also to be expected, "Unstable," they had called him as everyone worked around him.

There was someone new, though. A woman with ebony hair and ivory skin. She was slender but stood with strength and confidence even though she had been handcuffed. A prisoner or a hostage, he identified. The man, Pierce as he had figured out the indistinct conversations of those around him, made one of the guard's remove her handcuffs.

He couldn't see her face, not from where he was staring, but he felt her eyes on him. He tensed, waiting for whatever came next.

She cried out in pain as Pierce pulled her towards him by her hair. A prisoner. And although he could not make out the words, there was no mistaking the threatening tone Pierce was using as he spoke for only her to hear.

The woman hesitated, taking a cautious first step forward. She was clearly waiting for something to happen as much as he was; though the tension she carried did not make her move any less gracefully as she approached him. Well trained he realized as her steps barely made a sound on the metal floor.

She made the engineers near him back off with a small wave of her hand before sitting next to him. It was clear to him that she was nervous, though she hid it well, shoving it down with a few stabilizing breaths. Her hands were steady, something he found…impressive. If he knew what he was, then she knew what she was; and yet she did not cower tremble as expected.

"Alright, I'm going to take your pulse now." Her voice was soft, and she hummed the words instead of speaking them, making what she said for him alone. But she didn't do anything for a moment, leaning forward, waiting for him to do something.

He wasn't required to look at her, though, or to speak to her. Only complete missions and tasks that were assigned. No extra steps were necessary. The Winter Soldier kept his eyes on the floor.

The instant the warmth of her gentle fingers touched his cold skin, images flashed before his eyes. He heard laughter and music, felt the warm tug of someone, a woman with red hair, on his arm as she held on to him. She was smiling for him.

He hadn't even realized he had seized the woman with the ebony hair by her wrist until he heard the weapons rise and the safeties clicking off from the uniformed men standing behind her. Her pale green eyes, soft like a summer meadow had a flash a fear ripple across them.

There were seven armed men standing behind her, seven automatic weapons trained on him. He looked at each one, gauging their aggression, likeliness to fire, and weakness based on the way their stance. They were trained, but the undisciplined firing stance would be their weakness.

"Lower your weapons," the woman said. Her voice was calm, but commanding.

"I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart," one of the men called back to her. He's the one in charge of the other men, the Winter Soldier was able to determine by the simple statement made and the way the other men looked at him as he spoke.

"Lower your weapons," she repeated, much more forcefully than the first time.

There was some shuffling from the men behind her as they looked to the lead agent for instruction on how to continue. Their leader looked nervous and hesitated before finally lowering his weapon, making it obvious he was unhappy about doing so, however.

He looked back at the woman with the pale green eyes and fair complexion, not realizing until that moment that he still had hold of her by a fierce grip on her wrist. He relaxed his grip on her, seeing slight relief in her face, the creases in her face lessening as the pain he was causing her ebbed away.

"I'm a doctor," she said. He could hear the slight strain in her voice as she tried to sound calm, almost pleasant as she spoke. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure that you're alright."

She was the doctor that Pierce had told him to allow to examine him. He was not expecting someone so delicate for the task. He had expected pain, poking, prodding, and invasive procedures; not gentle fingers warm to the touch, and soft, melodic words. If it weren't for the honesty that he saw in her leafy green eyes, he wouldn't have believed that she wasn't going to try and hurt her and he wouldn't have released her arm.

The doctor massaged her wrist before turning to the engineers. "Release the rest of the restraints, please."

"This early out of cryofreeze? He's still wildly unstable." The fear in the engineer's voice was unmistakable.

"And I'm about to be unless you release him from the remaining restraints." The doctor's strength of character impressed him.

The doctor was their prisoner, yet she was challenging the lead agent, challenging their authority; and she was doing so on his behalf it seemed. She didn't need for the restraints to be removed, she could have continued on with them in place.

"Agent Rumlow, please have the rest of your men wait outside. They are not necessary at this time." Another challenge, though with this one, he could tell that she was seeing how far she could push her luck, how much give she had on her leash.

There was some resistance from the lead agent, Rumlow as the doctor had called him. He went to explain her position in the chain of command: the bottom. She made the argument for her reasoning for her command on his behalf, he knew that it was for hers as well.

"He's a weapon. He doesn't feel anything." Rumlow was talking about him, and the words echoed through him. He couldn't remember if that was true or not.

"And you're a giant tool, but that doesn't mean you act like one all the time even though I have yet to see any evidence to the contrary." Rumlow's words had angered her, deeply. The hard edge in her voice was telling of this.

This change in the doctor's behavior was enough to awaken him from his trance of simply listening and observing. He rose his line of sight from the floor to Agent Rumlow, turning his uncaring demeanor cold and menacing. He locked eyes with Rumlow, saying nothing but letting what he was, a weapon, carry his message for him.

At Agent Rumlow's word, the men and engineers filed out of the room. He was no longer restrained, and the doctor seemed to relax more now that the other agents were gone. It was a small victory for those who were at the bottom of the chain of command "with no authority whatsoever" as Rumlow had put it.

He wasn't quite sure why, but he felt something for the doctor. Companionship, maybe. There wasn't much there, he perceived, but enough for him to have backed her up when it wasn't necessary for him to do so.

The doctor breathed deeply, relaxing the tension that had been holding her so rigid. "I'm going to take your pulse now. To do that, I'm going to need to touch your right arm and probably move it." Her voice was soft and compassionate as he spoke. Compassion… he couldn't remember anyone ever showing him compassion. She was the first and it was… unusual.

"Is that alright?" Another first. He had never been asked for permission, and the innocent honesty in her soft green eyes told him that she wasn't mocking. He wasn't quite sure what to do.

"He's not going to talk unless it's necessary, sweetheart." Rumlow's tone was mocking, and the slight creases that appeared around the doctor's eyes when Rumlow called her "sweetheart" told him that she didn't care for the name.

Speaking wasn't necessary in this case; instead, he simply relaxed his arm for her, unclenching his fist and waiting patiently for her to carry on. She smiled. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was still real. And it was for him. "Thank you."

Her gentle fingers laced around his wrist once more, the warmth of her skin was shocking, but there were no images flashing within his vision this time. She applied a bit of pressure for several seconds before releasing him. "All good." She reached for an instrument on the tray beside them. "I need to check your heart and lungs," she continued. "I'll start with your heart, if you don't mind, of course."

Again, the doctor left him with something of a choice. He could answer no and somehow he knew that she would be perfectly fine with it, she would simply continue on to the next task; but he didn't see any harm in allowing her to conduct her exam. He straightened his posture for her, allowing her better access to his chest so that she could listen to his heart.

"It may be a little cold," the doctor warned him. "Sorry, I'm just used to always giving that warning," she chuckled softly, placing the stethoscope on his chest. He understood why she quickly apologized for what she said as he found the instrument warm to the touch; not nearly as warm as she was, though.

"Though I am sure you are used to getting these exams." Her voice carried a bit more confidence in it. He wondered if it was because talking calmed her down.

The doctor removed the stethoscope from his heart and before she could ask him to do so, he leaned forward for her. "Oh!" the surprise and light that accompanied it was refreshing. "Thank you!"

Agent Rumlow and the doctor exchanged a few more quips back and forth, sizing each other up, trying to determine who was going to give out first. Eventually, it was found that the doctor was, in fact, the carrier of a stronger will than the Hydra agent, but he didn't find that surprising. Even if she was the prisoner, HYDRA had yet to take away the light of her soul.

The way she fought against HYDRA's authority was impressive, admirable even; but he couldn't help but feel worried for her. Breaking rules, going against directives, failing missions: all of these resulted in punishments ranging from physical to psychological, perhaps even both. He could not remember specific instances, but he knew that this was how HYDRA operated. If the doctor didn't learn to obey, or at the very least compromise so that she was so openly defiant all the time; they would crush her. This he knew as well.

Warm fingers laced within his own, ripping him from his thoughts. "Please look at me."

It was the first time she sounded frail and frightened. The pleading tone in her voice… he felt as if he had no choice but to comply. And he felt as if he were seeing her for the first time.

Ebony hair flowed around her face, her pale complexion only adding to her fairness. Her soft green eyes akin to grass in a meadow looked at him longingly, searching for something to make her no longer feel quite so alone. Only now did he realize how small she truly was. Not weak or unnoticeable—she had proven her strength and her beauty was undeniable— but even a giant would look small when compared to the vast emptiness of an ocean.

Her smile was one of relief. "Thank you," she breathed.

He made a point from then on to continue to see her in the way that she needed. No leered at like the other men that had been the room, or watched like she was a potential threat; but seen as though she were a human being, by someone who could prove she wasn't alone. So, he did as she asked, allowing her to conduct the rest of the exam with the light and tracking movements of his eyes.

"The last thing I want to check are you muscles and joints," the doctor said, launching into an explanation. At the end, as she did with every time before, she gave him the option of not going through with the exam. It was a kindness on her part to give him an option. It was the first instances of kindness he had ever experienced

Her gentle fingers and tender movements betrayed their true strength, hiding it from everyone else. It was only as they worked their way across his skin, penetrating deep into his muscles that it could be found. It was a strength formed from many battles of necessity and survival, yet that strength was kept in check by her compassion. Occasionally she would hit a spot that was sore, and every time he signaled her, she would instantly let up on the pressure, her eyes always flicking up to his, making sure she hadn't caused any real pain. It was like a small dance as she continued on, massaging, bending, and straightening, her movements forceful at one moment and slow and quiet in another.

Compassion. It was a word HYDRA associated with weakness, but as he watched the doctor work, he knew that they were wrong. He only hoped that he could remember that for the future.

So lost in thought was he, that he barely heard her warning him off from missions; only realizing that she was done because of the absence of her warmth. He had been so focused when watching her, transfixed by her movements that he hadn't quite processed them all yet.

"And I know I've asked you a million questions, so do you have any questions for me?"

He looked at her and the words formed themselves unbidden. "Your name—" He frowned. No, that was wrong. He didn't even have a name, why would she? "What do they call you?"

The light she brought to the area around her as she smiled was more than he had ever seen. The darkness that had plagued her from the beginning was long forgotten in that moment. She was smiling at him.

Her name was Alice.

~~.O.~~

Author's Note:

So, this chapter is an idea I had, an experiment, if you will. I wanted to do something like a part A and a part B so that you could see into the minds of both Alice and Bucky. I'm not sure if I characterized Bucky well enough to continue it, though. I'm also not sure if I like the repetition between chapters, and if I do run with it, I may not do it with every chapter.

So in this instance, please tell me what you think. If you like the idea of a chapter A and B, let me know. If you don't think I characterized the Winter Soldier/Bucky well enough to continue on, let met know. If you loved it and think I should continue onwards, let me know.