No one likes going back to a past like that... his breath slowed down as gray fog covered his mind. He was back.
The soldier blinked fast. He flinched a bit when something as a notion of scream or weeping reached his senses. He jerked the right hand towards his chest. He swayed taking a deep breath of surprise. The air smelled with rotting tissue, fear and sweat.
He frowned.
A gun in his hand felt familiar, he slowly retracted it into a holster, not even remembering that he had one. Tiles on the walls that used to be white, kept on reflecting dead light of fluorescent lamps. He looked down to move his uneasy feet, impossible to escape greasy filth on the floor. It made him nauseous.
With a continuous stench hitting his face, he glanced more forward. Then he realized the gun was pointing right at that direction. And the sight shook his limbs and he bent down involuntarily.
Dead body... he tilted his head and closed his eyes, as if counting on some kind of liberation from reality. Watery and startled blue eyes examined that corner of the room again...
Not a dead body... a few of them. Lying limp and dropped like a pack of unwanted things.
He yelped and touched his nose, feeling unpleasant itching of a cry. He looked around in panic, but there was no one there. Only him and a bunch of people... that were gone...
"Did I...?" He bit his lip and scowled, looking down, hopelessly searching for a clear explanation, for scarps of memory. "It's... it's me..." He muttered with a stutter as a few lonely tears wondered outside of his eyes. Closed walls of abandoned asylum kept his soul restrained.
Then more tears followed. He felt lightheaded ant let his back lazily slide down on the dirty wall as he looked up. He was already empty when he touched the floor. He remembered.
Soldier's face went white when he glared at his silent companions in suffering. Maybe one or two were bad enough to be treated like this. Maybe... but there was more of them, so many... the last pleading target tore a hole through his conscience and it poured with dark void from his icy heart.
"I'm done..." He said quietly and calmly and reached for his gun again. Following the barrel with indifference drawn onto his face, he felt a touch of cold metal under his chin. It was enough to pull the trigger and finish it all... he wanted it at least twice before.
Tired, long-haired man closed his eyes and tensed his jaw. They said it wouldn't hurt... just pull the trigger.
"No!" Brutal force yanked his body. The gun shot just next to his face. He grunted with irritation and pain as the noise almost made his left ear explode.
"No! Bucky!" A cry, there was a man holding him down... "Bucky! Snap out of it!"
James opened his lips and looked at a face above him. Heavy weight was pinning him down and a few armed men were aiming rifles at his face. Some woman kept on weeping in the background.
"Steve... what happened?" He asked sheepishly, still fighting shock caused by a close gunshot.
Captain swallowed and fear appeared on his reddish face. "You don't remember? Not at all?" He asked straight into his eyes.
"I was... I was back on a mission." Pain appeared on his face.
"What kind of a mission was this?!" Shouted Steven, now more agitated. He squeezed Bucky's arms so hard that it hurt him. "Tell me! I'm not letting you until you tell me all of it!"
James glanced to the sides, realizing that he was sick and weak. He felt like breaking into pieces and his best friend was close to become his tormentor.
"Let me go Steve... I'll tell you all, just let me sit like a human being. I wasn't allowed to sit, lie or stand without their permission..."
"Oh... okay, okay..." Steve slowly loosen his grab and raised his right hand, to signal guards. They lowered their guns, but kept on staring at James with merciless eyes.
The weak man supported himself onto the metal arm, red star contrasting with his white skin steel. He stumbled and then Steve reached for him as forgetting that Bucky could be ever lacking of his strength.
Captain helped him these few steps to the bed and Bucky sat on it reluctantly, just to lay flat after a second. He felt as all his bad past kept on eating his vitality and no serum could prevent that...
"I'm tired, Steve." He almost whispered.
"What did you see? I just stopped you from... you attacked the doctor and then, you..." Steven continued, not believing his own words. Buck kept on looking at him, with his eyes becoming darker and sadder. "You somehow managed to steal a gun from this officer and-"
"Instead of shooting anyone, I decided to-"
"What the hell is going on here?!" A sudden, deep voice woke everyone up from this moving mood.
Almost everyone. Bucky was close to unconscious with half-closed eyes. But Steven's eyes opened wide when he recognized that voice.
"F-Fury?" He muttered, completely flabbergasted.
"C-Cap?!" Replied amused voice. "I heard you brought some trouble on yourself. I came to check what's this trouble all about!"
A confused smirk wondered onto blonde man's face. "It's... Bucky is back."
"Are you sure he's still alive?" Buck would react if not a sedative applied to him just a minute ago. One of the doctors completely ignored intimate friends' moment. He preferred to feel safe...
Soldier kept on drifting away, still carefully trying to listen...
"I just stopped him from committing suicide."
"So he has feelings like that?"