{Chapter 14}
"James," he heard her gentle voice whisper in the haze of falling snow. The cold air ripped through the Kevlar material of his jacket as his soul moaned to feel her touch. Her delicate hands splayed over his broad chest, radiating heat within rigid muscle. Warmth spread into his skin. The remnant of feverish sweat slicked over the path of her stroking fingers. They were close- alone and free from disapproving and inhumane eyes of HYDRA. He couldn't help it, he stared deeply into her coffee pools of shadow and pain. To kiss her would be forbidden, since he wanted to seal those three words: I love you, making them sear on her full scarlet lips, and he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but given the circumstances of their life, she was just an asset -a slave.
He took a step back, feeling unbalanced, and out matched by his betraying emotions. The aching sense of attachment wouldn't leave him be, and he bit hard on his lip. Her pulse elevated. Confusion masked over his pale blue irises as he drank her lithe and curvaceous body inward. Black leather, combat boots and long mahogany hair billowing off her trim shoulders. She was a dream-freedom and life.
"Is everything alright with you," she asked with a evident tone; and gave him an inscrutable stare, breaking through his steely mask of stubbornness. "You seem quieter than usual..."
A cold touch of winter was reachable to his heart; he closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, breath seized in his chest, and then he swallowed, recollecting himself. A misty look took his indignant eyes. "I'm fine."
Anna mashed her teeth into her bottom lip, unwillingly chancing another step forward. After a heartbeat her chest softly collided with his Kevlar armor. "I know when you're lying to me."
He ignored her, pushing her away from the danger. His eyes started to burn again as he looked over her shoulder, catching glimpses of encroaching headlights reflecting against the mounds of snow barriers around them, and threaded his metal fingers in the mass of her dark hair, he drooped his gaze down and then he stared wondrously into her coffee orbs.
He had to let her go.
"I scouted a clear passage for you to take. They won't see you slip into the shadows, Anna."
"Come with me, James," Anna implored, her brown eyes gleaming with desperation. "You have given everything...It's time to run."
His obscured face became stoic, heart fluttered with hesitation. "If I run they will kill you...I can't risk your life. This is your chance of freedom and I suggest you take it." He fastened a pistol into a leather strap buckled across her hip. "It doesn't have much fire power, but it keep you safe when engaging with the enemy. Remember one bullet in the head and another in the chest-easy points of entry." He clasped his arms around her trim waist, holding her securely against him. His torso jerked with spasms, and his face creased with unbidden anguish. His full lips pressed into a colorless line as he looked into her darkened eyes. The fight of regret and anger bled out of him-he didn't want to watch her disappear. "Always keep your emotions in check..."
She didn't answer him at first. She closed her eyes and lay her gloved hand over his unshaven jaw. "Likewise."
He looked at her with deaden blue eyes, the light had been sucked into the black abyss of his gaze. Taking a step back, he whispered out a promise, becoming more self-aware for his devotion towards her. " I will find you..." Inside, the man-James Barnes, HYDRA tried to butcher refused to live another lifetime of being alone. It cut into him deep knowing that he didn't prove his love to Anna, he would lose her.
A dull and hollow pain split into his chest.
Anna leaned forward, brushing his sweaty tresses off hair of his broad forehead, and pressed a warm kiss over his chilled skin. He blinked, didn't speak, and she looped her arms over his shoulders. Embracing him for a long moment to feel his heart beating against her. "And I'll be waiting as always."
It took him awhile to grasp his feline existence; he felt like a marred stray, looming the streets and gathering information of programmed memory. He wasn't the same soldier. He was a nameless wraith; detached from the world around him. His blue eyes turned gray under the ambiance of shadow, and his slender body moved through the cracks and barricades of his new world. He felt isolated. His friend's words calmed his restless spirit for a little awhile, but he knew the rudimentary of truth-he wasn't to change back into his five-eleven stature of intimation and enhanced strength. He wasn't going to find the woman he loved, she was a ghost to him. Sadly as it seemed, he needed to focus on the mission-protecting those mewling and motherless babies from any threatening force. He knew they were defenseless and small; they wouldn't survive with him-unless he found a female cat and allowed her to raise them. It was the only option he had left-he wasn't father material.
You're a hybrid of organic and inorganic perfection.
Whoever he was before-James Buchanan Barnes, that man was gone. He was cursed; his senses had been altered to inhale toxic plumes of steel, blood and gun powder. That's all consumed him was flames of hatred the burned through his bones as remorse ignited inside. The only thing which kept him from falling deeper into the void with the gentle warmth of Steve's massive canine body. He could hear voices around him, but the waves of human connection failed after another veritable assault of mind-numbing laspes of confusion.
You're name is James Buchanan Barnes.
Under the shadow of the incognito transformed super-soldier, Bucky tilted his head up, training his icy blue orbs on the rattling fire escape. He couldn't abandon the kittens; they are young and defenseless. It felt stupid-uncharacteristic to his hard core exterior that he cared for the mewling and motherless babies. He questioned his own malice filled heart, thinking maybe it was test of restoring his humanity.
Right now, Bucky was downright lost -reaching an impasse of choice and action; he had made a promise to the kittens that he would protect them. A soldier never breaks his promise, no matter the cost.
Releasing a frustrated breath, colored by vexation he looked back at the golden furred husky. A dog, and also a cat's worst enemy, but not Steve. He knew that his best friend would never turn on him.
"Are you okay?" Steve pestered, wobbling closer, barely remaining on all fours.
Bucky gave a stoic nod, fighting the urge to give into despair. He looked into the light blue of the dog as he parted his jaws and executed out his plan. "We need to those little fur balls out of your flat. They are a distraction to this mission; I need you to scout the area and find me a female." He paused for a moment deadpanning, and then staring into the daring gleam in his friend's bright eyes. "Hey," he seethed, fur raising. "I know what you're thinking, punk. I'm not looking a feline dame to play cat and mouse with, I need a female to become a mother for them. It's the least I can do.."
The dumbfounded husky nodded absently at the black feline, weakness of the curse affected his body. His bulky mass trembled against the frigid air. Despite having layers of fur, he was still cold from the aftermath of the transformation. His willpower was collapsing as foreign thoughts of chasing a tennis ball, picking though garbage and begging for scraps from local restaurants invaded his mind. He need something to chew on-the control his urges. "Okay," he panted out, wildly. "So, you're plan is...kittens and mother cat...safety?"
"Yeah, that's pretty much all I've got, dog breath." Bucky teased, glancing back at the fire escape and busy street around them.
It was a matter of habit that stuck with him since he operated alone on missions on maintaining visible contact for the acquired target from concealed places of ruined buildings, rooftops and balconies. His was a highly skilled marksman used for -fieldcraft, infiltration, special reconnaissance and target acquisition. His stealth and efficient methods of eliminating governmental figure heads was legendary in the KBG files-he was an assassin and enforcer. He was the Winter Soldier ( Зимний Солдат).
"I think we should take the stairs that lead to the balcony. I'm not sure if my body is agile enough for the climb. I'm much bigger than you, Buck." he said, cocking his head to the stairway, he was making it obvious of his size compared to Bucky's sleek cat form.
"Not a problem, Cap. I can do this mission alone. Just watch my back," Bucky sighed out, long and deep. He balanced on his paws, raring into pounce and springing stance. He scanned the area for what seemed like the thousandth time with his sharp eyes, he waited for his muscles and pulse to become in sync.
His long tail swayed over the snow, hind legs sprang back and he shot off the stairs like a bullet leaving a gun. He avoided any unseen glares of stray dogs lurking in the alleyway and took a powerful leap over three steps, thrusted forwards by his small limbs and climbed the last row of steps. With another wide span jump, he landed on his feet and hauled his slender form up to the balcony ready to stalk to the glass doors-until a his elusive presence had been sighed by a scruffy white poodle, obstructing him over his objective point.
Extracting out a threatening hiss, Bucky arched his wilted back up and retracted his claws as he positioned himself into a defense stance of attack. He trained his rabid and darkened blue eyes on the small dog. "Listen, pal, this is one cat you don't want to mess with..." he warned, holding his ground in front of the annoying mutt yipping at him. To much of his chagrin, Bucky surpassed his feral instincts, and swiped his paw into the snow, dusting the poodle with a chilling response."Make another move and I will show why a mutt should never corner a cat," he dared.
The sound of clicking claws sounded from the stairwell as the husky raced up the steps. Steve soon reached the top and bared his teeth at the yipping white dog, his hair standing up on his neck and back. He let out a good series of fierce barks, trying to both scare the poodle and distract his own mind. His instincts were begging him to tear the scruffy rat to shreds.
"Shut up and get out," he growled at the poodle, taking a threatening step towards it.
The cowardly dog let out a yelp of fright at the massive husky's approach and scrambled to get traction against the slick ground before sprinting away in the opposite direction, howling in fright all the way. Steve couldn't help but give his friend a cocky smile as the whines of the poodle fell out of earshot.
"You're welcome," he said, his chin high in mock pride.
"I had him on the ropes..." It was the first thing Bucky said, with a irritable hiss rattling through his vocals, before a small cocksure smirk cracked his muzzle, which veiled a hint of brotherly gratitude.
"I know you did," replied Steve, glancing down at his friend with memories flooding his thoughts. Looking into Bucky's blue eyes, Steve could almost forget all that had happened to them, even now. Bucky was still his brother, and nothing could ever change that.
"You want me to stay here or go with you?" Steve asked, turning his mind back to the mission.
Bucky released a slow breath. "Did you lock the balcony door?" he unnervingly asked, lifting his metal paw off the wooden boards, and then retracted his claws out. "Knowing you, I'm guessing you did, which means I have to break in your flat by my own methods." He roved his steely eyes, and regarded the to the glass doors with an uncertain gaze, before snapping his vision back to his paw. "It should be easy enough..."
"Yes, I did lock it," Steve replied, trying to hide the fact that he was glad Bucky felt knowledgeable enough to predict his patterns, even ones as small as locking doors. "Try not to make too much noise; barking dogs is one thing, but broken glass could startle a neighbor. Be careful."
Bucky stiffened his posture, " Do you trust me, Steve?" he asked, his voice sincere, but fading with doubt.
"Of course I do, Buck," Steve said, his voice as adamant as his statement. "I only wanted to remind you to be cautious." A smirk crept up Steve's face, and he again assumed a sarcastic tone. "We both know how flighty and inclined to ridiculousness you can be, my friend."
Bucky gritted his fangs, his blue eyes burned with fever. He swerved his body close to the doors, baiting out a heated breath of bottled aggression as his metal claws sliced over the glass. He fought against rage clotting in his veins, and whispered with calamity laced in his throat. "When the hag or whatever she is called placed this rotten curse on me-I ever imagined you would become apart of this fight." He moved his paw in a circular motion, shift and precise as the metal etched in the glass-creating a hole big enough for him to fit his slinky body through to grab the kittens.
"It's always been about the next mission...Not about suffering in this body." He deadpanned out a hardened breath. He dared a glance at his reflection-all that stared back at him as a visage of a ebony furred cat with a tinge of brown to resemble a small mane. The only familiar of his human self with the icy blue eyes and metal limb. "I can't give up the fight..There's always hope. "He turned his head and looked at the husky with a humble gleam...You taught me that, punk."
"But you taught it to me long before, back we were just a couple of kids in Brooklyn," Steve returned, his smile lighting up his whole furry face. "And you also lived it out. There was never a bully that could beat me up without you coming to the rescue. You were hope for me; as good a friend as they come. And now, we've got to be hope for each other. If we can do that, this mission will be a piece of cake."
"I can see you're following your gut," Bucky derided back, straightening up on his hind legs, and encompassing his paws against the glass. He pressed hard, but the thick panes wouldn't budge. Grumbling under his breath, "I'm thinking I miscalculated my body weight and the thickness of the glass." His expression fell disquiet. "Great, where's a gun when you need one..."
"I'm heavier; want me to do it?" Steve inquired, asking the obvious.
There was the disturbance of sound -approaching danger marching on the ice covered sidewalk and the clinking of guns as bullets jingled inside the hollow steel.
They were being hunted.
"Steve wait a second..." Bucky gasped, sensing impending danger. He drew a deep breath. There was a hidden truth behind the availing circumstance. He figured it all out. Corruptible. His breath hitched in the back of his throat; confused, but not blind to scheme HYDRA was playing against them. Extraction. Super soldier blood. Project: Rebirth. It was all making sense-the reason of the transformation was to pump Steve dry -drain the serum when he was not in human form.
When he couldn't fight with his fists and shield. "Steve, listen to me..." Bucky hissed, struggling on his paw and biting his lip. "This is a trap. You're the target, the one they want." He digressed, not a hint of lenience. He cocked his head to the direction of the alley and gave a sour snarl. "You need to get out here quick as possible once you break the glass. Find a safe house and wait for me. I can't explain it. You need to trust me...It's a risk," he shrugged. "I'm used to playing the dangerous game."
"I never run from a fight, Buck," Steve breathed.
Every single part of the super-soldier rejected the idea of leaving Bucky. How could he afford to risk loosing his friend, especially with danger around? But he trusted both Bucky's instincts and his plans. And obeying without argument would help to strengthen Bucky's belief that Steve was willing to put faith in him. He nodded.
"Please! For me?" Bucky lowly pleaded with his ghostly blue eyes. "You're not in top shape to fight-" He lowered his head, and flattened his metal paw over the boards. With a surge of distilled pain, erupting inside him in its unrelenting form he shook slender body, trying to ease the knots of dread churning in his blood flow. "Listen to me..." Bucky finished in a gravelly voice; his eyes focused on the darkened apartment. "I've got your back. Now do what you do best, and get out of here!"
"Okay," Steve breathed fearfully, muzzle wrinkled with harrowing dread and his heart sped up. His sharpened senses tried to ascertain the danger Bucky had noticed. It felt like old time with his Brooklyn brother. They are ensnared into another battlefront. Freedom and surival was at a high cost. He had to take a stand. At the moment blood in his veins was brewing despair. "But what safe house should we meet at?" he asked quickly, not wanting to waste any time. As he waited for a reply, he took a few steps back to gain momentum for his coming shove against the glass.
"Anywhere." Bucky replied, his voice laden with panic, watching the glass scatter over the floor. He had an entrance. "Just find a place with a roof. I'll find you."
The husky nodded quickly and immediately dashed off. He sprinted down the stairs, and although he did not see anything out of place, he did begin to feel a sense of dread, as though a danger were hanging over him. He crossed a street, causing a car to screech to a halt. The sound hurt his ears, but he ignored both it and the fact that nearly been run over. He needed to focus. His eyes squinted as he tried to locate any place matching Bucky's request.
Steve thought he would never spot a roof upon which he could climb; but finally he spotted a building that would suit him. An apartment about three blocks away from his own had a fire escape reaching all the way to the top, and he headed towards it as fast as he could. The alleyway smelled of rotting trash, and for a moment, Steve's instinct wanted him to sniff out and examine the exact specimens contained in the broken down dumpster. He shoved these ideas aside as soon as they appeared, and he instead focused on the stairs.
The building was several stories high, and it took a few minutes to reach the top. But at last Steve scrambled over the edge and sat down, his tongue hanging out as he panted heavily. When he had rested a couple minutes, he stood to his feet and carefully neared the edge of the roof, looking down on the street and trying to see his own apartment building, hoping that he would get a glimpse of either the source of danger or Bucky.
He saw neither.
Bucky was extra cautious.
In silent and ghostly steps he moved through the apartment. Trepidation was running livid through his tiny skull; he stalked closer to the gleaming shield prompted against the wall. His metal paw slowly traced over the alloy and eagerly lifted it to the center star. He felt failure prick in his veins-his best friend was everything he wanted to become-a good soldier, friend and protector. He remembered fragments of memory of him and Steve huddled, and shivering together under a threadbare of blankets in their makeshift fort in his old bedroom in Brooklyn. He hated it when the little punk was ill with asthma or the constant threat of pneumonia or rheumatic fever the purged Steve's small heart with an irregular beat. There had been a heaviness on his heart-doubt and fear that Steve wouldn't survive the night. Through their struggles of living alone, they never lost faith into each other, yeah, they had it rough at time-empty stomachs and melting candles as light, but he fought his way through the endless haze of poverty,and gave Steve a better home and sacrificed his dreams to ensure that his best friend prevailed to fight another day.
You ain't going to quit on me, punk.
Scanning his trained blue eyes around the massive bed, he noticed a heap of blankets thrown to one side and a little black paws poking out. Targets found. The Winter Soldier persona of his mind affirmed as he advanced closer to the prime objective point.
"Hey," his vacant voice slurred into a tentative whisper; he lowered his body and waited for the dozy kittens to awake from their nap. To his stubborn and impatient digression, they didn't budge-almost like they were purposely ignoring him. "Both of you come here now, that's an order." he sounded with firmness coloring his deep voice.
It brought back memories of when he was the young defiant and watchful sergeant of the 107th infantry division-Dum Dum Dugan, Gabe, Falsworth, raiding a small Italian town under seized by German forces.
"Fall back, Dugan. They've got us covered!" Sergeant Barnes affronted, diving into a mud filled ditch as blue flame engulfed the murky terrain. His face was slopped with mud as his blue eyes locked on the rolling tanks swerving their big guns towards the blockade of his battalion. He blinked the haze out of his feverish gaze-staring at a weird symbol painted on the black metal-HYDRA. "We've got to move...There's no sense of staying in this mud hole like sitting ducks waiting for reinforcements." He turned to Gabe, and pointed his frigid hand at the radio pack. "Call it in..."
"Bucky, behind you." Dugan yelled in hurried response, as he straightened his brain bucket over his large (thick) skull, and ducked into the trench. He pulled out a grenade from a compartment in his vest, and pulled out the pin with his gritted teeth. Once Barnes gave him the nod, "I hate these guys," he digressed out a long sigh, and the tossed the explosive clear and in front of a line of German soldiers closing in on their position.
The young sergeant rammed his back against the solid wall, every muscle in his protested against the awakening pain. Blood dribbled from his nose and over the arch of his firm lips as he felt the aftershock of an concussive blast vibrate through the hollow ground. This was a suicide mission. They were unprepared and the last line of defense between the Nazi empire. He felt the guilt prick in his bones. He had led these good men to their demise-the burden of their lives felt like dead weight on his shoulders. This was the price of freedom-the sacrifice to hold a barrier of the Atlantic and Pacific.
In these dire moments, his defiant spirit became downgraded as he listened to the screams of young soldiers echo in the thickness of smoke. He needed a sliver of hope to break him out of the illusions of death-he needed skinny and stubborn headed Steve Rogers to led him out of this hellhole he had fallen into to when he offered his body and heart to the uniform. Reclaiming his strength, as he looked at the scribble the little punk gave to him of an eagle holding the American Flag in it's talons, Barnes cracked a weak smile on his face, and chuckled hollowly-Steve always had his back. "Dugan, we need haul our boys out. I do cover fire..."
"Bucky, don't be fool. You'll never survive one of those blasts." Dugan shot back, shielding his massive body over Gabe Jones as they climbed up the trench wall, ducking and avoiding the blinding canon blasts of a unknown weapon turning men into piles ash within seconds. He set his gray eyes on Barnes, and then shook his head. "If I don't see you trailing behind...I'm coming back and pulling your stupid behind out of here. I mean it Barnes..."
The dark haired soldier felt a cocky smirk ghost over his mud swathed lips. "That's one thing you should know about Brooklyn boys..We're always stupid."
After a few moments of fighting his tetchy nature, Bucky descried the small kitten gingerly crawling out of her hiding spot. Her icy blue eyes locked on him as she cocked her head and meowed for her brother to awake up. Inside his feline vessel, Bucky felt his heart twinge as he crept with slow steps to the blankets and looked at the babies with intense malignant of harrow. Bucky wanted to feel accepted. He wanted purpose too, and identity-something he could have without the barriers of HYDRA blockading around him.
Taking a shaky breath, Bucky redeemed his pledge and quickly grabbed the female with his jaws, lifting her from the confides of warmth, and then scooped up the sleeping male-carrying both kittens in his mouth the cat darted out of the apartment the moment he heard a voices-familiar and gruff Russian tones executing orders outside the door.
Steve heard the whiz before he felt the impact of the dart. As soon as he felt the tiny needle pierce through his thick skin, he instinctively rolled back, away from the street. But by then, it was too late. Quickly glancing down, he saw the dark sticking into his right shoulder. He bent down his head and pulled out the offending shaft, though he knew by the sudden change in his thinking and vision that whatever had been in the needle was already invading his bloodstream.
Many thoughts raced through his head, but it was now so hard to think that he could hardly focus on any one idea. Since he'd been shot with a dart rather than a bullet, he was probably reacting to some sort of tranquilizer, not a fatal poison. That was both good news and bad news. Good that he wasn't about to die. Bad that he was about to loose himself to unconsciousness while in the presence of enemies who both knew where he was and obviously wanted to get him.
His vision was fading quickly, but he still had enough function to move sluggishly toward the steps. He looked over the edge and was able to see two armed agents at the bottom of the stair case he had climbed. They were on their way up.
With what resolve and strength he had left, Steve quickly searched for possible escape routes. He was comforted by the fact that he was still conscious. The serum must be at least somewhat resistant to tranquilizers, though that would hardly matter if he was shot again. To his dismay, Steve found no way off the roof besides jumping, and he wasn't about to go out that way. Instead, he hobbled back to the side of the building with the fire escape and waited.
The first HYDRA agent was not expecting any sort of resistance, so he was unprepared for the fierce, though uncoordinated attack that Steve launched against him as soon as he appeared on the roof. The husky sank his teeth deep into the man's leg, and he thrashed out wildly with his paws, trusting that he would at least inflict some damage. He let out a loud, gargled howl in hopes that it might alert Bucky to the danger.
As he had expected, his fight was short lived. Another dart just like the first suddenly hit him in one of his hind legs, and his strength was sapped. His heavy, muscular body wobbled for second before crashing to the ground. His eye lids felt so heavy, and soon darkness consumed his vision. His last thought was a prayer that Bucky would get away.
"Bucky," he moaned, giving one last effort to rise. He could not stir. "Bucky," he said again, though the word was slurred as he fell into unconsciousness.
A/N: A big thank- you to all the readers and followers. A huge thank- you to my amazing co-writer. Enjoy.