Author's Note: Additional warnings for mentions of past abuse/torture. Also, in the Army, a Staff Sergeant outranks a Sergeant by one grade, hence why Bucky thinks Sam is one of his superiors. However, Sam was actually the same grade as Bucky, because in the Airforce, a Staff Sergeant is an E-5 not an E-6. An Airforce E-6 is called a "Technical Sergeant." Bucky uses the term "buck sergeant" to refer to the fact that he was a junior grade sergeant; this is a common way for Soldiers to differentiate ranks among non-commissioned officers. And now Sid is done applying modern Army silliness to the 1940s.
Chapter 10.
An hour passes, then two. The asset does not speak to the technicians even when they ask him questions that he knows the answers to, though he continues to comply with their instructions when given. A small cup of warm broth is thrust into his hand and he drinks it slowly, sipping it like he has been told to. It is a test. If he rejects the broth, then he has failed the test.
The captain has not returned, but the sound of crying has stopped. It is quiet on the other side of the door.
The asset stares at the door and drinks his broth. He is an idiot. He shouldn't have been talking about Steve Rogers; he barely remembers his first handler, and what he does remember causes him to malfunction. The captain is angry, he thinks. Or maybe this is what 'upset' looks like. The asset pauses with the brim of the cup at his lips. He remembered that Steve Rogers had been upset -
("If I wasn't upset about some stupid thing you'd done on Monday, Buck, then it wouldn't be Tuesday, now would it?")
- with him, and that he had worried that he would upset Miss Potts, but he doesn't really recall what 'upset' entails. It's bad, though. He knows it's awful and never ends well for him.
He swallows another sip of the broth, forcing it past the growing knot of anxiety in his throat. His hand is shaking when he lowers the cup from his face. The asset glares at it until the tremors subside. This is an inappropriate response to punishment. And of course that's what this is; he hurt his captain. He was insubordinate, and can't seem to follow simple orders and just do as he's told anymore, and now he is finally getting that punishment he earned. That was why the captain hadn't come back. The asset is -
(sorry so fuckin' sorry didn't even mean it like that thinks he's gonna die if Stevie don't forgive him soon)
- in confinement. He is being starved of the captain's presence until he learns how to -
(shut up behave obey forget)
There's still liquid in the cup. The asset swirls it slowly. It is important that he finish all of it, that he keep it down, that he doesn't fail again. If he is good, if he can just be good for the captain, then the punishment will end. The captain will touch him again, will speak to him and see him and let himself be seen and touched again.
He didn't used to care about that, he thinks. There are no memories of wanting to touch Commanders Rumlow, or Baader, or Lukin, or Ivanov. He doesn't know why he remembers these names now, but he does. They were all dark, hazy, without faces, defined only by short dark hair, foreign uniforms, and rough hands. If he had still been assigned to any of those men, he knows that he would have just been beaten or wiped. Commander Rumlow was quick to reset because he valued obedience. Oberst Baader had believed that loyalty was strongest when backed by fear; he preferred to beat the asset with a heavy chain or the bullwhip that was kept in his office. General Lukin used to shoot him just to watch him heal. Doctor Ivanov liked to cut him.
His handlers weren't always dark. Captain Pierce -
(is new and blond and young and his dress uniform is American but not right, darker green, no belt, officer's cap in his hands, and there is nothing the asset enjoys more than the way this man smiles at him when he adjusts the infantry insignia at his lapel or brushes his metal fingers over his ribbon rack)
- preferred to wrap his hands around the asset's throat and hold him under water. He wasn't allowed to fight back. He doesn't always remember wanting to.
Captain America did not punish him like that. Steve Rogers never beat him. The asset takes another sip. He prefers the beatings to this cruelty. At least then the captain would have been touching him, there in the room with him. But it's not like this is a difficult test. The asset would have drunk shattered glass for the captain. He has swallowed poison before for previous handlers. A little broth will be easy to keep down.
The door opens, and the asset lifts his head, squaring his shoulders and preparing to stand. He remembers now that he is supposed to stand when an officer enters a room. It is not an officer who enters.
It is Sam Wilson.
"Hey, James," Sam Wilson says, smiling at the asset. He has a mouth made for easy smiles, a relaxed quality to the spread of his shoulders and brightness to his dark eyes. The asset's eyes sweep over him, assessing threat. There is a weight in the right pocket of Sam Wilson's jeans, a slim metal rectangle roughly four inches long. A multi-tool, then. He appears otherwise unarmed. The asset knows that he is better with a knife than Sam Wilson is, and more proficient in hand-to-hand combat, even without the metal arm. But the asset doesn't need to hurt Sam Wilson, he reminds himself; they are on the same team now. "How're you holding up?"
They are silent for three solid minutes. The asset looks down at the cup in his hand, which is the only thing he is holding, and thinks that Sam Wilson's question is stupid. Apparently, he is supposed to answer it anyway, because Sam Wilson is just standing there, waiting. The asset can lift one hundred and ninety-four pounds with his flesh and blood arm. This cup has one ounce of liquid left in it. He thinks it's pretty damn obvious how he is able to hold it up.
Maybe it's a test to see if he will follow the orders of the captain's other personnel. It occurs to him that he has no idea whether or not he is supposed to follow anyone else's orders. When he was on Strike, any of the other members of the team could have given him instructions, though they generally left that to Commander Rumlow. He thinks that it is because they were all agents. The asset is a sergeant. Agents must outrank sergeants.
Not all Hydra teams have the same structure, though. In the Howling Commandos, the rest of the team had been made of soldiers. Soldiers are subordinate to sergeants. The asset had outranked everyone except Captain America, so only his commander or the colonel or the agent could give him orders. He had duties and responsibilities -
("Stay in your lane.")
(Beans bullets bodies)
(Blades braids and)
- outside of eliminating targets. There is a vague memory of another team where only his handler was allowed to speak to him. The rest of that team wasn't made up of agents or technicians or officers. They had all been very small. It is a confusing memory, so the asset ignores it.
He is already in confinement, so it is important that he respond appropriately, and for that he needs to know where he stands with Sam Wilson. He knows for certain that Sam Wilson is not a superior officer, because he lacks the kind of bearing and presence that Miss Potts has. The asset is fairly confident that he's not some kind of technician, either, since they rarely engage in combat on missions and he knows that Sam Wilson acts as Captain America's personal air support. He thinks that Sam Wilson is most likely either another asset, or an agent.
If he were an agent, that might make this complicated. Agents have their own internal rank structure that doesn't always match up to the military hierarchy Hydra prefers. This is not going to be easy, he thinks. He was not built to understand complexities, intricate and immense in the way that only Hydra can be. The asset wishes he still had his mask; it was always so much easier to watch his mouth when he was muzzled. He thinks he remembers someone - or many people, spread out across the years and continents - telling him that he talked a lot, or maybe just too much, but he can't recall the exact memory.
"Without strain," the asset says at last, which is apparently a satisfactory answer. Sam Wilson takes a seat in the chair that the captain had moved over next to the gurney table. He has the asset's file in his hands.
"Well, that's as good a place to start as any."
Four more minutes go by in silence.
"Are you an agent?" the asset asks. Sam Wilson shakes his head.
"No. I was in the Airforce for a long time, got out as a staff sergeant, and now I work as a counselor with the VA."
He doesn't know what a counselor is, but he knows what a staff sergeant is. Staff sergeants outrank sergeants. There is a cold feeling in his gut that twists at the knowledge that the captain has another asset to care for. Sam Wilson smiles at him again. The asset wonders if he is supposed to return it. He doesn't think he can so he does not attempt it.
"I was a buck sergeant when I was with the Howling Commandos."
"Yeah? Is that why Steve calls you 'Bucky?'"
"No, Sergeant. Steve Rogers -"
(always called him 'Bucky' unless he was in a right fit and the name felt like a precious fuckin' gift and it didn't matter how tired he was or how hungry or how badly he'd gotten his ass handed to him in a fight when he heard that name in Stevie's mouth, on his tongue, falling from those lips, it made him feel hot and cocky and fuckin' stupid some days, and dear God, he was going straight to Hell)
The asset stops, mid explanation. Steve Rogers had used it often but he doesn't know why. He thinks that his first handler must have given it to him when they were assigned to one another. It was a long time ago; he can almost remember Steve Rogers being even smaller, impossibly more fragile, sicker, than he was in the Smithsonian, but the image in his mind flickers, trembles, flees before he can quite understand. He thinks it might have been a secret, once, but it obviously isn't anymore and that's a stupid thing to think, anyway. The asset didn't have any secrets from Hydra before he jumped into the Potomac after the captain. He takes another sip of his broth. "Captain America did not use it as often. He uses it more now."
They are interrupted as the captain enters with Miss Potts. The asset stands quickly. Sam Wilson looks over to the door and does not rise.
There is a half-second where the audacity of the action, or lack of action, as it were, shocks him. What the fuck is this staff sergeant thinking? Miss Potts hasn't noticed yet because she is deep in conversation with the captain, but once she does, Sam Wilson is dead -
(they leave the bodies in the mud)
(there's blood on his hands and at first he wonders if he tried to render aid but then he remembers that he doesn't know how and that's not his primary function anyway)
- and the loss will reflect poorly on the captain. He remembers the captain's dislike of losing team members the last time they were together. The asset drops his cup then, hand darting out to grab Sam Wilson by the front of his shirt and yank him roughly to his feet.
"Woah!" Sam Wilson exclaims, hands going up to show that he meant no harm.
The sudden outburst of sound and movement draws the officers' attention, and the captain closes the distance between the door and table in a blur as he orders, "Sergeant Barnes, stand down!"
He complies immediately, hand jerking away like the captain has poured acid on him. Sergeant Barnes. So, the punishment is not yet over. The captain will withhold his name - his name is Sgt. James Barnes, though, the Smithsonian told him that - or his not-name, his better-than-a-name. He hadn't questioned it before, but he questions it now. It must have been the call sign he used when he belonged to Steve Rogers. He doesn't want the captain to call him anything else. It had made him feel. . .
It had made him feel.
The captain has his hands on Sam Wilson, his body a physical barrier between the two men as he looks between them with concern. The asset corrects the thought: not-men. Assets. They are not men, they are weapons. His hand closes into a fist at his side. The asset hates the familiarity of their touch, the way that the captain's hand rests on Sam Wilson's shoulder. He hates knowing that the captain cares about this other. It should have just been the two of them, against Hydra's enemies, 'til the end of the line. That was how it was supposed to be, with Steve Rogers. That is how he wants it to be with Captain America.
"What happened? You okay?" the captain asks Sam Wilson, who nods and brushes himself off. He thinks that Sam Wilson knows what has happened, is aware that the asset just saved his life. Sam Wilson had better be a good liar, because he doesn't want to upset Miss Potts. The captain will have to punish them both, later, privately, but the captain is merciful to a fault.
He amends that deduction quickly: the captain is not faulty. The asset is faulty, dysfunctional, he makes things around him break and bleed and cry. There is nothing wrong with the captain.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. You just startled us, is all. We're fine," Sam Wilson replies, and looks meaningfully at the asset. If they are all very lucky, Miss Potts will not be upset. She will not punish them. He hopes that she allows the captain to discipline his own team. If they are not, he might have to go back on the ice, away from the captain. The possibility makes him angry. "Right, James? We're all good, yeah?"
Fuck. He doesn't even like Sam Wilson.
"Yes, Sergeant." His hand is shaking at his side. The asset tenses his jaw. Something is happening to him. His training is crumbling too early; he should've had a few more days left of functionality, but he doesn't. "Sir, I think it's time for my reset."
The captain freezes. Maybe he shouldn't have used the word 'think.'