The Fixer
Zombies Have Feelings Too!
"So what would you like to discuss today, James?"
As per his rights, or lack there of, Bucky found himself sitting in that big green armchair again for the fifth time that week. Every time he came in expecting to say what's been bothering him, and every time the words escaped him.
"I don't know, it's weird," He started to say. The psychologist sitting five feet away waited patiently for Bucky to continue. Unsure of the words leaving his own mouth, the super soldier reluctantly admitted what had been following him for the fast few weeks. "I think I saw my dead girlfriend last Friday."
The older man's spectacles lowered as he started to write. Bucky cringed a little, knowing that when the doc wrote something down it typically meant that he really did sound insane. To jump over the conclusion the doctor obviously came to, Bucky quickly added, explaining vaguely with his hands in his lap, "She's dead, I know. There's no getting around that." He remembered the girl from the library like something out of a waking dream. They looked the same; the only real difference was this one looked the way he left her in the south with long fake blonde hair with brown roots and a saucy smile. Bucky looked to the doc, trying to convince himself it was just a coincidence. "It was just weird is all."
The wrinkled old man was quiet for a minute, watching Bucky with sympathetic brown eyes. If there was one way to describe his psychologist it was that he had a kind 'talk to me' face. He had the kind of face that someone might spark a conversation with at the grocery store, or standing in line at the DMV. He had a similar face to Katie in that way. The kind of person who deserved your respect and honesty.
Bucky always felt small around this guy, like he held the power to destroy him at a moment's notice. He was far too nice to really exist. That was certainly one of the things the doc asked him to try and work on: trust. Obviously Bucky had some serious issues in that particular aspect of life. He was indoctrinated by the Soviet Union and frozen, only to be used as a murder weapon. Then, when he finally found someone to trust again, she died horribly from a disease he didn't know she had until it was too late. She hid that from him on purpose, because she didn't want him to go away. Hands curling into light fists he couldn't help but think that she was a total idiot. And of course that brought its own echelon of guilt with it. His fists went flat against the armrests, smoothing some ragged strings.
Just thinking about her was enough to bring that sharp, sinking pain back to his chest. Even though his doctor said he would eventually get past her death, he wasn't feeling it. That striking pain wouldn't just fade like everyone said it would. And that worried his best friend more than he would ever admit. It worried Steve a lot more when Bucky told him he'd been seeing her face in random strangers for nearly two weeks. It was four months since she died, one month since Bucky found out about her death, and way too long since he was allowed on a mission with Steve. He wanted Bucky to regain some 'stability' before going out again.
The team decided to go on some secret mission without him. To say he was put out would be and understatement. But at least he had the company of Jade, who slept peacefully on the end of his bed every night and entertained him to no end.
Bucky fell into some daydream, remembering that nice, peaceful time he spent in North Carolina. He wondered again and again why he left when it now became his crutch. What was that song Katie sometimes hummed? You don't know what you got 'til its gone...? Yeah, that was the one.
Then, after some time the doctor finally gave his thoughts on Bucky's admission. "It is not uncommon to see the faces of those we've lost in our daily life. To forget them would be quite the dishonor, wouldn't you agree, James?"
As usual, the doctor was right. Bucky was afraid of his hallucinations. He learned so much about himself just from hearing the doc's opinions. It was funny how you can learn so much about yourself from someone else's point of view.
After another fifteen minutes of discussing his feelings on death and the significance of remembrance, the doc cut him loose.
As his route typically entailed, Bucky stopped by the Starbucks around the corner to grab an insanely priced cup of coffee. He was about to check out with an equally overpriced ham and cheese sandwich when a newspaper caught his eye. He picked it up and placed it on the counter to pay.
The stroll home was relatively quiet and cold on a December midmorning. Soft clouds puffed from under his scarf. There was some slick ice under his feet and biting air prickled his ears. It was so peaceful it was choking him. He didn't want peace and quiet, if he wanted that then he never would have come back to D.C.. Instead he'd be staring at a gravestone somewhere in North Carolina confused as all get out. Quit it Buck. Don't dwell on the past. That's what the doc told him. Damn, it was hard to listen to that guy sometimes.
Bucky got home and tossed his house key onto the kitchen counter, plopping his heavy frame into a chair at the table. Jade shook her fur in some other room and trotted in with a wagging tail, forcing her head under his hand as if he had no choice but to pet her. He smiled a little, taking a bite of his sandwich before flicking the newspaper open. His whole demeanor fell to the floor.
The vibrant colors of the front page didn't seem to make any sense at first, but as the picture made more sense, his grip on the page tightened. That punk...
It was a photo of an obliterated hospital in the East Village. Smoke billowed thick, swirling patterns into the sky, only lit with fires framed by shattered glass windows. Several smaller photos sat in the lower corner of the image to show a fuzzy image of several people with flamethrowers and one person single-handedly throwing a car. The edges of the paper crinkled under Bucky's fists. Steve hadn't been allowing Bucky on missions lately, and he could now understand why.
News outlets called them everything from 'protesters', to 'militants', to 'mentally ill'. But Bucky knew what they were. 'People with incredible strength and stamina with no objective' as they were described by the media, rather than their true name. Riots broke out all across Europe and the Middle East, Bucky flipped through each of the 20 pages outlining the struggle.
Sleeper Soldiers, similar to himself with no one to control them, were killing masses of people and causing an upheaval that no one could quantify all across the world. This all started this morning around 12am. Tapping away at the computer, Bucky ran into hundreds of photos of people with blank, soulless eyes. These were Foscythe's pawns, the ones he was using to dismantle society. Bucky had killed at least a dozen of them while they were in Mongolia, Russia, and India. Why did Steve choose to shut him out now of all times?
Bucky was in the shower when Steve finally got home. This was intentional. It gave him a little extra time to think of how he was going to bring it all up in a calm and collected manner. Was he going to berate him until he got the straight answer, or would he calmly ask? He didn't get much of a choice when Steve gave that stupid, apologetic grin after looking at the article Bucky had been reading.
Violent outburst it is.
"Tell me what's going on." Bucky could barely restrain his shaking anger, but luckily Steve was always the more mellow of the two of them.
Steve's hands went up defensively, "Sorry, sorry, Nat thought it would be better to keep you out of the loop for a little while. At least until we knew what we're dealing with." The look in his best friend's eye told him that answer wasn't good enough. "Look, if you want to be mad, then be mad. It's just that this is a lot bigger than you and Forscythe. Every one of these Sleepers is as strong as you and me and it's like they have no mind of their own, they aren't like the ones we saw during the last tour. They destroy anything in their path, including innocent people." Steve's index finger found the photo on the table without looking away from Bucky. It was a picture of a woman in a shawl, wrapping her baby to keep it from inhaling smoke as she ran.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to get their hands on a live Sleeper. " Steve explained as he sat across from Bucky, whose foot couldn't stop tapping. "They have boundless energy and when they burn out, they die on the spot. Not peacefully, either. There's a timer set in them that goes off like a small nuke after they're taken into custody. That's what happened this morning." He indicated to the demolished hospital. "I figured you wouldn't want to see her hospital blown to smithereens."
Bucky's dark blue eyes were half-mast as they considered the options. Natasha came to the apartment later in the night and snuggled with Jade as they discussed different strategies. Nothing was working with the many moving parts. K2 was being watched, and was actively being dismantled by different teams. They needed to move without being detected by the main enemy: Hydra. It was proving somewhat difficult to come to a reasonable answer. Then, one beautiful idea came to Natasha, "What ever happened to that redhead and her dad?"
…
Kyle sat sipping fine bourbon in a lavish dining room across the restaurant from his sister and her megalomaniac ex husband. He meant to tell Pete his plan to save Katie's life from the start, but he never had the balls to bring up that particular conversation. The guy was a little more than intimidating. According to that irate chemical engineer, every person who received K2's version of chemotherapy over the past decade was a ticking time bomb. Forscythe made it clear that Kyle was the direct reason his little sister was doomed to die in this hellish way.
The auburn haired man leaned his chin on the flats of his knuckles as he stared at the shaggy haired woman across the table. Every single Sleeper was about to be accessed. These Sleepers would cause chaos and deaths for millions, ending today's society. Breaking free from chaos, people would cling to any source of solidity. It would clear the way for a new world order. Once the Sleepers were done, they would become Hydra's mindless army. A plan Forscythe had long before meeting Katie.
The microchip imbedded in her heart was capable of severing all cognitive thought aside from what Hydra wanted her to think. That was what Peter Forscythe was attempting to explain to the wide-eyed woman across the table in small words. It was not going well.
"Nah." She waved off his explanation off with a one-shouldered shrug.
Eyes narrow he watched her shrink back. "What do you mean, 'nah'? This isn't a question. It's a statement. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants you dead. Everyone who has this," Pete held a hair-thin microchip between a thumb and forefinger, "will be killed without discretion. Teams of soldiers are hunting for people like you." The fine muscles around his lips twitched to a small frown at lumping her with those creatures. She didn't listen to anything she didn't want to hear, and right now she didn't want to listen to a word he spoke. So he moved on to a slightly different approach. "Those ranks include Steve Rogers and James Barnes."
Katie could look at nothing but the full plate in front of her, but her heart fluttered at the sound of Bucky's name. Just knowing he was alive was enough. Maybe he just wasn't allowed to talk to her while he was on this mission. Well, yeah, obviously, since she was a target that made sense. At least that's what Pete told her. It was terrifying the way he spoke, not fulfilling in the way she once thought. His presence wasn't a happy one; it was a frightening one. Like he would kill her without a second thought. Which wasn't a far shot from the truth considering all the armed guards everywhere. Somehow he looked even more frightening in his strange black uniform. Katie wanted nothing more than to get out of here and find out what Bucky was planning. She wanted to help him and Steve, but she couldn't even begin to know how.
"They want to kill you, Kate."
That accusation was just enough to make her say the first full sentence she could muster since sitting in this ridiculous restaurant.
"Bucky." She corrected quietly, gently, trying not to poke the angry bear. His brow rose just a millimeter. She swallowed and kept on going, "That's his name, get it right." Her courage mounted with each passing syllable. "And just to be clear, they would ever want to hurt me. If they had orders to do it, then maybe, but even then, Steve isn't a killer and Bucky, he…" Her words cut out for a second and she felt herself losing force rapidly. "Bucky is the only reason I was able to recover after you… you…" Those quickly foundering green eyes fell back to her plate where she mushed around some nameless vegetable, unable to think about how much pain he had inflicted.
"Tsk." Inhaling deeply, Forscythe straightened the utensils before him. "You realize the only reason you two met was so he could find and kill me. Or, did he neglect to tell you that as well?"
Deep green eyes rose to meet his pale blue ones, confusion reflected back at him. He could feel her fury from across the table. A smile remained hidden behind his lips. She was exactly where he wanted her.
A plate went flying past his ear and all hell broke loose. Guards jumped onto the rabid woman who nearly broke her own arms in an attempt to rip out his throat, that dead look in her eyes told him this conversation would have to wait for another day. It took ten guards with specialty gloved made for handling these people.
One armored guard held a device to her chest to kill the microchip, "Orders Sir?"
Forscythe sighed heavily and looked at the watch on his wrist. 00:00. He nearly forgot that she was a Sleeper. Just then, a plan began to form. Another quiet smile hid behind his lips as he lifted from his seat to stand before the roiling monster Katie erupted into. If she was bound to die regardless, she was the perfect bait. "Get her on a plane. She has a meeting in London at 03:00."
…
Bucky, Steve, Tasha, and Sam were in the British base for all of twenty minutes before the attack started leaving them virtually zero time to prepare. Alarm bells rang out overhead, flashing red lights whirled in metal plated hallways to announce the invasion.
Steve started dishing out commands before anyone could rub the sleep from their eyes.
A French agent scrambled to explain the situation, "A single person took out eight agents in under a minute. There are ten enemy combatants working in sync like gears in a clock." His voice was haggard as he explained, following the super soldiers close behind. "They are all different races and ethnicities, sizes and genders; none of them have spoken a word. No one knows what they're looking for." The attack was so unexpected that it left their own teams scrambling. There was no choice but to lock the base down. Until the culprits were captured, everyone was trapped.
The Frenchman pointed down a hall and looked to Bucky, giving his silent orders. The dark haired man knelt on one end of the hallway. Through a small video stream on a computer screen on the wall, Bucky watched as a team of three breached the secure holding area where Shelby, their prisoner from months ago, and her old man were being held. Bucky groaned and lowered his eye to the sight. He waited for their inevitable exit plan with a massive .312 aimed at the door. He glanced back to the screen. Judging by their speed, the metal door would begin to lift in 5, 4, 3, 2…
He shot the first combatant without even a blip of a thought. When the massively fat man dropped hard to the ground, Bucky faltered.
Emerging slowly around the corner, a thin woman from the video had Shelby slumped under one arm as if she weighed nothing. Another, tall, slim man stood behind her, she had an arm extended to keep him from passing. Her slim arm curled around the redhead protectively.
Shelby's wellbeing wasn't the reason for his hesitation.
It was that long neck, high cheekbones, flat jaw, and northern European nose that he'd been seeing everywhere for weeks. They were what stopped his finger from pulling the trigger and killing them all. She had this deadened expression as she stared right at him. No— through him, straight to the doorway behind his back. The only way out of this hallway was to pass him and his weapon.
He lowered the muzzle from his eye, disbelieving. " Kate?"
That hollow gaze dropped. She became suddenly aware of her surroundings, leaving her terrified by the surrounding sights. Then, wide green eyes fell on Bucky. For a brief moment he thought he imagined it. But he didn't. Katie was begging him to kill her. The dark, emptiness came over her face, holing her up once more. A prisoner in her own body.
Bucky was completely frozen. He couldn't kill her, not when she knew what was going on, now when she was so scared. But he also couldn't let them pass with their prisoner. He was trapped in this immobile state between logic and wild bewilderment. How was he supposed to prepare for something like this?
Natasha's voice squelched in his ear, yelling for him to fire. The door behind him squeaked open then slammed shut. Black Widow was over his right shoulder, gun aimed high for a kill shot.
It all happened so fast.
Bullets ricocheted off of every wall, changing their trajectories and embedding them in the floor. The man behind Katie went down, and she dropped low to hide behind him, holding Shelby's unconscious body close. Bucky quickly realized that Natasha was down as well, gasping, and telling him to kill the intruder.
There were so many reasons to do as he was told, but something else told him that there would be another day. He gripped Natasha's neck, blood pumped through his fingers as he held her wound shut. He pretended not to notice when Katie took off past him and Natasha, dragging Shelby's limp body behind her. He heard shouting and metal on metal in the room over. He prayed his negligence wouldn't end the life of a friend like it almost had. Everything had overwhelmed him; so much so that he didn't realize the man behind Katie had a gun. Natasha was bleeding, but it wasn't so bad that she couldn't glare at him accusingly.
Bucky called through his headpiece for Sam. It wasn't even a full minute before the former para-rescue man ran through, pushing the super soldier aside to weave tight stitches into the bullet wound in Tasha's neck. It was only a surface tear, but it opened her carotid.
Before Sam could even muster the words, Steve had Bucky slammed to the wall. "What the hell happened!" He pushed his forearm to Bucky's chest.
Bucky couldn't make himself look at his friend; his eyes were cast to Natasha who lay bleeding on the floor because he was locked up with trepidation.
Once their female teammate was removed from the scene, Steve dropped him, unsure of what to do with his best friend's dangerous weakness. Pulling at his hair with both hands Bucky strode back and forth with anxious speed. Stepping over bodies and debris in the empty hall.
"What the hell was that, Buck?" Steve's hands were tight fists at his sides, eyes following Bucky's endless pacing. He was patient enough, but to endanger Natasha's life was crossing a line.
Bucky threw his arms to the sides and faced Steve, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. "What was I supposed to do?" His voice was harried and frantic, his eyes darted around the room. "Was I supposed to just kill her?"
"You're usually the one pushing to kill Sleepers—" Steve started to say.
"—What are these people? Sick dogs? Are we putting them down for their own sake?" Bucky interrupted, his pacing slowed as he approached again. He was erratic.
Steve stepped forward to seize Bucky's shoulders. "No, we're doing our damn jobs. We're supposed to help as many people as we can. If that means getting rid of a few Sleepers, then that's what we'll have to do."
The side of his lip curled, attempting to pull out of his Steve's grip. "Then you're no better than Hydra."
With that Steve was right in Bucky's face, his voice rising at the thought of Natasha dying for the life of a Sleeper. "Your head is screwed around all wrong. If it was anyone else, you would have taken the shot and Natasha wouldn't be critical!"
Bucky's eyes dilated and he fell back a little, feeling the fight leave his body. He glanced away from Steve's intense gaze. Bucky knew he was right. He didn't even know he was right until he saw Katie wake up in the middle of her own onslaught. When he couldn't pull the trigger, the realization hit him hard. Sleepers were all just people. They were puppets without will of their own. During the day, they were normal folks, going about their daily business. At night they were killing machines. It was like seeing his old life from the outside. Once a puppet with no mind of his own, Bucky managed to recover. Maybe these people were just trapped and screaming to be free. Steve had to know that this was wrong.
"I know." He whispered; the undersides of his eyes grew heavy. "But that doesn't make it right. These people don't know what they're doing. We can't just kill them."
"I get what you're saying, but it's not realistic." Steve softened a bit. "They can't be allowed to hurt people just because they aren't awake. They're zombies, Bucky. Yes, they're people. But that isn't good enough."
"She woke up, Steve. She woke up when I said her name. It was pure terror." Bucky's shoulders fell, becoming almost soft. Steve finally let him go and gave him a little space. "Can't we do something else? There has to be a cure, something..."
"There's research being done, but there's no cure yet."
"Steve." Bucky shook his head sadly. There were so many thoughts whirring through his head. His heart felt so beat up he could barely stand it anymore. "I just got her back, I can't watch her die. I can't do it again."
As much as Steve didn't want to see Bucky hurting so badly, he knew that this soft spot was a dangerous one. "You didn't get her back, Buck. She's part of Hydra, she's the enemy now. Nothing can fix what they did to her."
The silence between the two friends was heavy until Bucky managed a weak smirk. "I'm pretty sure a lot of people said the same thing about me some time ago."
Steve's eyes fell closed. If Steve had listened to Tasha, Bucky would be nothing more than a drugged up living experiment in a cell somewhere, or worse. Though Bucky was a kind soul, no one would have given him the chance to recover if not for Steve. Maybe they needed to do the same thing for the Sleepers.
Finally, with a weary eye, Steve conceded. "I think I have an idea."
Then, a loud metallic scream came through their earpieces, "We got one! A live Sleeper!"
A/N: Wow, sorry for that long wait! I have the next few chapters all written up, they should be coming about once a week from now until the end. Don't worry, there's more action to come. Thank you SO much for the follows! Feel free to let me know what you think of the story's progression. I'd love to hear from you all.
