*Sighs* This is NOT how I wanted to start off with my fanfic. I should have updated way sooner but RL got in the way and this little fear of writing came up but I decided to ignore it and started writing. I am going to try to update more frequently, especially since classes are about to start on Monday, for any one of you out there is reading and I hope you are! :)
Big shout out to the one person who decided to follow this story. Yay! You're awesome! Thank you for giving this fic a chance. :)
Disclaimer: See the prologue chapter.
"Gone Elvis" is a military term or slang for when a service member who is missing in action.
Longing
noun
1. A strong, persistant desire or craving, especially for something unattainable or distant:
Filled with longing for home.
If it keeps on rainin', levee's goin' to break.
When the levee breaks, I'll have no place to stay.
March, 1973
The Soldier cannot exactly remember how he was in this particular room in this particular building, holding a gun that he had recently fired.
He can't seem to remember a lot of things lately which shouldn't bother him but it does. He doesn't know why it does but it is a feeling that wouldn't go away. So in an attempt to understand that feeling, he went off grid. For the first time in almost 30 years, he made a decision for himself and failed to follow an order made by his handlers.
He suppose that this feeling started when they first brought him to New York. The sights and sounds of the city must have triggered some thing in him that was long since buried. He didn't know what exactly that was, other than it felt familiar.
He was brought here on a mission by his handlers. Senator Harry Baxtor's sudden and untimely death was made to look accidental. The Soldier looked on at the scene of the hotel workers finding the lifeless body of the Senator floating in the rooftop swimming pool. He was unseen and unheard. He had completed his mission successfully.
The feeling of familiarity struck him once again as he turned and began to walk towards the roof top entrance door when the New York skyline caught his eye.
He stood, still hidden in the shadows, scanning the view of the city. He felt a sharp tug in his chest and in his head. A nagging sensation that he had been here before. The Soldier began to feel confused.
So in search as to why he was feeling confusion, he had simply just walked away. He had felt the need to go and explore this city that feels so familiar and yet so different to him.
The sights and sounds of the city ranged within him a small bit of truth but the truth about what, he did not know. Maybe if he continued walking, he will find it.
No one paid much attention to him as he walked down the streets of the Bowery. The neighborhood was crawling with alcoholics and homeless men who passed out on the street. What's another lost soul wandering through the Bowery?
The Soldier felt dizzy. He doesn't know where he is going, only that he knows he seems to be heading in the right direction.
He kept walking, not realizing it was getting dark. Night had arrived and he kept walking until only just realized as he sat in a corner in abandoned room that was in an abandoned building that he had no recolection how he got there. Instincts of the Soldier had taken hold as he walked through the Bowery in a daze. He needed a place to hide and recon, his instincts had told him and led him to this building. He felt no worry or apprehension to what his handlers might do once they figure it out, and they surely must have by now, that he did not show up at the agreed meeting spot. It was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could think about was to figure out why this city is so recognizable in his mind. He needed to find out why. Maybe the feeling would go away once he learns why.
The Soldier's eyes scanned the room he was occupying in. It used to be an apartment, he realizes but now it was dead inside. Life use to run through these rooms. People, laughter, sadness, food, chatter, friends, family, warmth, cold, tears, pain.
Pain. That was a familiar feeling.
He felt comfortable here in this apartment. Because he was dead inside as well. His flesh hand rubbed against the wall. The curled edges of the peeling wallpaper brushed against his fingers.
His eyelids felt heavy. In his metal hand, he held the gun limply(he does not recall when he pulled his gun out.) His eyelids drooped, only to have them snap back open once the blackness started to creeped in around the edges. His flesh hand slid down from caressing the wall as he almost falls asleep. He doesn't want to sleep. He can't. He needs to recon the area. He doesn't know what he needs. He shouldn't know what he needs. But he needs to sleep. He needs... needs...
Finally, his eyes slipped closed, shutting out the noise of the world and in his mind. Peaceful blackness.
Bucky!
He jerked awake.
The Soldier reacts on instinct and lifts his gun with such speed that he wasn't aware he raised his gun until he fired one single shot.
The bullet made a hole in the decaying wallpaper near the door. He was alone in the room.
His head snapped around in surprise, searching for the voice. It sounded so close.
"Bucky!"
He gasped. The voice was louder this time. He couldn't find where the voice was coming from which made him feel disoriented. It sounded as if it was everywhere.
"We're going to miss the show!"
The voice ranged through his mind. A young boy. He squeezed his eyes shut. An image started to form.
"Hold your horses! I'll be right there!" He was talking to a girl. A pretty brunette.
"Come onnn, Bucky. You can ask Mary Anne out after the movie."
Annoyance flared up in him. "Dry up, you punk or your ass is going to be grass!" He yelled back.
"We live in Brooklyn, Bucky. There is no grass." the young boy retorted, smiling. He laughed as he ran away, Bucky hot on his heels.
The solder cried out at the intense feeling from the mental image that form in his head. The feeling hit him so hard, it brought him down to his knees. He the gun pressed against the side of his head as his flesh hand gripped his hair tight as if he was trying to squeeze the mental image out.
That feeling that came with that voice and image. He realizes it now. It is that particular feeling he must try to find. That feeling of... home. He needs to find home.
And he needs to find out who is Steve and Bucky.
Lyrics at the start of the chapter is from Led Zeppelin's "When the Levee Breaks". which I will continue to use throughout this fic because it's sort of fitting and it's in the right era for this fic and because I like the song. lol
