"Anger is just anger. It isn't good. It isn't bad. It just is. What you do with it is what matters. It's like anything else. You can use it to build or to destroy. You just have to make the choice." - Jim Butcher
Chapter 11: Falling
As it turned out, remembering was harder and more painful than the Soldier had anticipated. He would sit still, eyes closed, trying to find the memories of a past that he knew he had. But all he ever came up with were fragments and a blinding headache. It was becoming very frustrating. He had a mission, something to focus on, and he couldn't complete it. Adding to his aggravation, he was trying to adjust to having only one arm, and it wasn't going well. He felt slightly off-balance all the time, and even small tasks like putting on his clothes had become impossibly difficult. The Captain and his team kept trying to help, but that only frustrated the Soldier more. He was supposed to be able to take care of himself, and here he was making himself a burden, failing his mission, falling apart… he hated this.
Over the past week, all he'd succeeded in remembering was a mission from about twenty years ago. He'd been ordered to kill Howard Stark and make it look like an accident, so he had. If his memory was correct, he had hesitated before the kill. He'd been conflicted. He couldn't, however, remember why.
He hadn't had a flashback in all that time, either, which had been reassuring, but that Thursday morning as he ate his breakfast (buttered toast and orange juice) that changed as he was broadsided by a memory that made less sense than any of the others.
He was hanging in cold, lonely space, his hands wrapped tight around a metal bar that twisted and screeched dangerously under his weight. Everything was white and cold, wind whipping at his face. Steve was hanging onto the side of the train, reaching out as far as he could towards Bucky.
The bar groaned, bent.
Bucky tried, he tried so hard to reach Steve's hand.
But he couldn't.
And the bar clanged and broke and he was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
He was falling and the wind was cold and he couldn't see.
He hit something on the way down, and he screamed at the pain in his shoulder.
He was falling.
Bucky came back to himself, trembling, shaking, stunned. Natalia, who had helped him get his breakfast, was crouched in front of him, massaging his shoulder gently.
His handler had let him fall.
His handler had let him die.
He didn't understand, yet, how the Captain and Hydra related to each other, but he thought maybe he had an idea. His handler had tried to get rid of him, or at least hadn't tried very hard to save him, and Hydra had picked him up and made him into what he was now. And his handler was angry because the Soldier was supposed to be his asset, not Hydra's. Maybe the Captain felt like Hydra had stolen the Soldier from him.
But the Captain had let him fall and must have expected him to die, so he really shouldn't be so upset. The Soldier straightened (he'd ended up on the floor again) and stood up.
"Are you okay?" asked Natalia gently, looking him over briefly.
The Soldier hesitated; he wasn't sure what the honest answer to that question was. Because he felt, oddly, betrayed and angry, but physically he was fine. He finally settled for a shrug and a muttered "Yes," then he returned to eating his breakfast.
Natalia was still looking at him strangely; half the time he couldn't decipher her expressions, which he hated. Not only that, but there were things about her that he remembered, but didn't understand. Defending her from his handler, which made no sense and suggested, what…? Emotions that he didn't recognize colored his memories of her.
She switched to Russian. "What happened, Kiryanov?"
He thought about refusing to answer, just to see what would happen, but he decided against that course of action. He still didn't want to risk punishment. "He let me fall," he answered in Russian, trying to keep the betrayal and confusion out of his voice. "The Captain… he let me fall off the train."
Natalia nodded slowly, and she pulled out her phone, tapping lightly on the screen several times. The Asset's throat constricted; he'd done something wrong again. He'd questioned his handler, he'd made a mistake. He stopped eating and straightened in his seat, waiting to see what would happen next. What had he done now? Something angry boiled in his gut, something that felt like injustice… he had only done what Natalia said to do, so why should he be punished? That feeling scared him, but combined with the betrayal, it was intoxicating. He was angry now, too. His anger had no specific object (or perhaps it did and he would not acknowledge it), but it was there, hot and burning and threatening to make him do something dangerous.
A few minutes later, his handler arrived in the kitchen, sweaty and panting, his hands wrapped in protective tape. He looked wary, his blue eyes full of concern and hope and something sad, thoughtful.
"Hey Buck," he said. "Natasha says that you remembered falling off the train."
"Yes." The Soldier was afraid to keep looking into the Captain's eyes, afraid that he would notice all the anger the Asset was feeling.
"I'm sorry," his handler said frankly. "I tried to catch you, but... I couldn't."
A sharp retort sprang to the Soldier's lips, but he controlled it, pushed it away. "Yes sir," he said instead, voice flat.
The Captain's brow furrowed, and he glanced at Natalia. "Are you okay?" he asked.
The Soldier repeated his shrug and "Yes."
Neither Natalia nor his handler seemed convinced.
"Bucky, I didn't want you to fall," the Captain said firmly. "I'm so sorry."
"Yes sir," the Soldier said again. His voice sounded sharp, harsh. Angry. He swallowed. Shit. He hadn't meant to say it like that.
Naturally, his handler picked up on his tone, but rather than getting angry himself, he apologized again. The Soldier clenched his fists. The fury was gnawing at his throat now, trying to climb out, aching in his chest.
Betrayal.
The Captain kept apologizing.
"Damn you." For a moment, the Asset didn't realize, didn't accept, that the words were his. They grated in his throat, rough and contemptuous. The defiance felt powerful. Like a drug. He stepped forward, felt his fists clenched tight. "Shut up!" he growled, and shoved the Captain hard. That felt good too, but it brought him back to his senses.
Both his handler and Natalia looked stunned.
The Soldier began to panic, understanding his mistake too late. He knew better, he knew that would only cause him pain. After everything, he'd overstepped. He should have known... This mission was no good. He was broken, he was malfunctioning. He shook his head and took a pained step back. "I, I didn't... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." What could he say to fix this?
The Captain came closer immediately, and the Soldier tensed, waiting for a blow that never came. Instead, his handler did something very strange. He put his arms around him.
The hug felt too vulnerable, but somehow comforting too. The Soldier was afraid to relax, afraid to believe that he might really be allowed to go unpunished.
"God, Bucky," his handler murmured. "I am so sorry. You have every right to be angry, I know. I'm sorry."
"You let me fall," the Soldier said, quiet, bewildered.
"I know. I know. I tried, Buck, I promise I tried."
The Asset shook his head, pulling away, glancing between his handler and Natalia. "You didn't need me anymore. I understand. But..." He hesitated, tried to grasp the confusion he felt. "But what did I do wrong? Why did you... Why did you let me fall?"
The Captain's eyes were practically liquid with sadness and... pain? "I didn't want you to, Bucky."
Natalia spoke up then, stepping forward and touching his handler's shoulder. She seemed to understand. "I think... I think he thinks that you were unsatisfied with him and didn't need him as an asset anymore, so you let him die."
"No. Oh God, Bucky, no. Look, you were my friend, you were my best friend, and we worked together. I just couldn't reach you in time."
The Soldier looked down. Best friend. They had been friends. He wasn't entirely sure what that word meant, but he sensed that it was important. Maybe it was like an ally. Allies he could handle. He could still feel the anger, but it had cooled to a dim ember, leaving him with the chaos and pain and confusion.
"I understand," he murmured.
His handler looked searchingly at his face, then let out a deep sigh and started unwrapping the tape from his hands. "I'm gonna shower and then get some breakfast," he said.
"Okay," Natalia said.
The Soldier turned and walked back to the table to finish eating, accompanied by the now-familiar heaviness of his conflicting emotions.
A/N: Well, I guess this story isn't discontinued. As per usual, I think I'm taking a break but then my muse comes for a visit. I guess I just shouldn't say things like that anymore. In my defense, I hadn't updated in almost, what, four months? Anyway, thanks to your reviews and a couple conversations I had on Tumblr/Youtube, I have decided to keep writing. What can I say? I'm a pushover for nice comments, and all the Civil War hype has been giving me feels.
I can't promise that my updates will be quick, but eventually this story will get done. I just don't know when. Think of this chapter as an Easter present.
I deleted two chapters that were just "I'm taking a break" chapters, so Fanfiction will probably not let you comment on this chapter or the next. However, I still want to know how you feel about it, so please message me or leave a guest review.
I love you all!
