A/N: Song for this chapter is Work Song by Hozier.
The Winter Soldier stumbled into the small room of the HYDRA base, soaking wet, limping, shoulder aching, metal arm barely working, fighting down the pain and confusion.
It was dark.
It was never dark.
Usually there were several scientists wandering around. Usually he was with was with an extraction team. Usually, he had completed his mission.
He was beginning to feel desperate. His eyes landed on the chair where they usually fixed his arm, and without thinking, he fell into it, sighing in relief a the weight now gone from his feet.
The sickly light flickered above him. No one came.
He was alone.
He glanced around.
There was no one here.
The words weren't making sense.
He was alone.
His heart began to beat faster. He didn't know what to do. He didn't have orders.
He was alone.
A noise made him look up suddenly. A woman stumbled in,arms full of papers, freezing when she saw him. Bucky calmly held up the gun, rising to his feet.
"Can you fix my arm?" He said. His voice felt rough, almost uncomfortable to use. She looked at him, the gun, and his arm, and made the wise choice.
The Winter Soldier flinched, as a shooting jolt went up his back. The scientist had removed one of the plates, messing with on of the internal systems.
"What are still doing here?" Her voice was soft, with a French lilt. He didn't answer. "It is dangerous, you know. I had to come back for my research. But soon, SHIELD will be here. Or HYDRA. And it will all be gone."
He looked at her.
Her eyes were full of sympathy. "You... I know who you are. The Winter Soldier."
He gave a short nod. "I also know your story."
That more than I know, he thought.
She picked up another tool, rewiring something in his arm. "You know. I never wanted to join HYDRA. I just wanted to invent things. Then, one day, a man showed up at my work, and says to me, we will give all the funding you need if you join us. If you say no, your children will die. I... I say yes."
She looked at him. "You? You did not have such a choice."
She put down the tool. "Try your hand," she said. He did. His fingers flexed with only the slightest whir. "It will be a bit... hit and miss, for the next few days, I warn you."
He nodded, standing up.
"You need to run," she said. "Get out. We know too much, us two. They will not let us live."
Before he could move, she handed him a folder."Run, James. We will not meet again."
He looked at the name on the front.
James Buchanan Barnes.
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."
"Shut up!"
She was walking away.
"Wait!" He called out. His voice cracked. He looked around. There was nothing left for him here. She turned back. If he could see himself in her eyes, he would see the equivalent of a lost child. A lost soldier. A lost man, desperately awaiting orders that would never come.
"I... I don't know what to do."
"You are the Winter Soldier, no? Find a new mission."
Then she left him alone, under the dying, flickering lights, with the certain horrors of his past in his hands, and uncertain horrors of the future in front of him.
The Winter Soldier sat in his stolen clothes, taken from a large department store that hadn't even noticed him there, on a small bench. He had picked the pockets of several people, and had found a stash of money in the back of the HYDRA compound. He had enough to live under the radar for a while. He had some satisfaction from using their money.
He had read about what they had done, in the file the scientist had given him. Read about what they had done to his mind.
The people he had killed were influential people that were getting in the way of HYDRA's progress. They had been lying to him. He hadn't been benefiting humanity. He had been benefiting them. They had been using him. He looked up at the building in front of him. The Smithsonian. He saw the man's face,Captain America's face, on an advertisement, for an exhibit inside. He need to see it, to see if the man had been lying when they said they had known each other.
He had to see for himself.
The Winter Soldier didn't know how he was supposed to feel.
The man on the wall was him.
It was him.
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."
"Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."
"People are gonna die, Buck."
People have died.
"Run, James. We will not meet again."
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
"Find a new mission."
People are gonna die.
The only Howling commando to give his life.
Run.
We will not meet again.
New mission.
Your name.
His life.
James.
Bucky.
Run.
Run.
Run.
He took a step back, and almost instantly, collided with someone. He spun around, catching their shoulders as they nearly fell. They held onto him as well.
The crowds still rushed back and forth, ignoring them. They were only here to see the history they wanted to see.
Slowly, she raised her green eyes to meet his.
"Watch where you're going," he snapped. It was the first time he had spoken in a week.
"I'm so sorry," she said, looking genuinely apologetic, making him feel slightly regretful of his sharp tone. "I wasn't paying attention. Sorry."
"It's fine, just watch where you're going," he said, quietly. He tried to let her go, but his arm chose that moment to... mess up, his gloved hand tightening on her.
He frowned. "Damnit," he muttered, his other hand flying to his wrist, struggling with it. When he let her go, he stumbled backwards, quickly walking away. He was vaguely aware of her following him. He tensed.
"What's your name?" She asked. He glanced back down at her, pausing for a moment.
"Your name is-"
"-Bucky?"
"-Barnes is the only Howling Command-"
"I... I- My name is... Bucky."
"Cara," she said. It was a nice name.
"Nice to meet you," he said,so not looking at her. He kept walking.
"How do you like the exhibit?" She said. He resisted the urge to ignore her completely and just keep walking. He didn't like her interest.
"It's okay," he said, staring at the date on the wall that said when he had died. "Some of it's inaccurate."
"Really?"
He nodded, refusing to look at her. Maybe she would leave.
As if in in response, she said, "Maybe I'll see you around, yeah?" He felt her touch his arm. He flinched slightly at the contact.
"Yeah," he mumbled. He kept moving. He needed to get out. Coming here was a risk. He didn't want to stay any longer, couldn't stay here any longer. He needed to run. He needed to run somewhere. He needed to get out.
Run.
Bucky Barnes left the Smithsonian.
Bucky followed orders.
Bucky ran.
Bucky opened his eyes.
The ceiling was white above him. For the first time in days, his head was clear. For the first time in days, it was quiet. For the first time in days, there were no voices or visions,. He turned slightly, seeing the chair Cara had been sitting in was empty. There were tubes going across his body, connected to an IV pole at his side, and in his arm. He sat up slowly, painfully, every muscle protesting, swinging his feet to the ground in an to stand up. He caught a glimpse of the world outside. It was nighttime. He managed to stay on his feet for about three seconds, before taking a step forward, and falling to the ground, the IV pole falling on top of him with a crash he was sure the entire building could hear.
"Bucky?" Cara said, flipping on the light, and rushing to his side from outside his room, pulling the pole off of him, helping him sit up. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Just tried to stand up," he said, letting her help him back onto the bed. He tried to ignore how his face was burning, or how even once he was sitting, she didn't let him go, keeping her hands on his arm and back. "It didn't work."
She laughed. "I can see that. You okay?"
He shrugged. "Nothing hurt but my pride."
"I leave for five seconds, and you choose then to wake up," she said, smiling at him fondly.
"How long was I out?"
"Few days, in and out of consciousness. This is the first time you've really been awake."
"How'd I get this?" He said, holding up the arm with the needle sticking out of it.
"I called a friend in," she said. "You kept fighting me on the whole doing basic things like eating and drinking, and very clearly told me you didn't want to go to a hospital. My friend got me some medicine for you. Apparently you had some sort of infection because of your arm that made your brain swell up."
"Oh...Okay. Thanks."
She was watching him. "Do you remember anything?"
He shut his eyes, seeing flashes. "You... You were gone. And then there was someone pointing a gun at you... You were going to get shot. And I- I was hitting-..." He broke off, looking up at her in horror. "Cara, what did I do?"
"You nearly beat someone to death," she said, calmly and matter of factly.
He turned away, as waves of accusing words crashed around his mind. He had nearly killed someone. And there had been people before, blood on his hands. Had he killed again? He had done it before. But it was on him now, he had done it-
"You also saved my life."
Cara's voice shook him out of his thoughts. Maybe he had nearly killed someone. And maybe he was just a killer. But Cara was alive. It was worth it. It had to be. He looked at his hands.
"Did it scare you?"
"No," she said carefully. "It should have, but it didn't. Seeing you forget who I was did. Seeing you hallucinating did. I thought you were going to die, and that terrified me."
He reached for her hand. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
She was silent for a moment. "Do you remember when I asked for answers? After that trip to the store? Will you ever tell me?"
"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He said, smiling darkly.
She smiled back. "Maybe."
"Do you still trust me?"
"Yes."
"Then please don't dig up the past. Please. You'll hate me."
"Alright," she said, squeezing his hand. "But you know I could never hate you. You're Bucky."
"Cara, if you knew what I've done, you wouldn't think about me as Bucky anymore-"
"No. You said to leave the past alone. So, I'm leaving it alone. It's over. And you're Bucky. You will always be Bucky to me."
He looked up, meeting her steady gaze. She was still holding his hand. He took in the dark stains under her eyes, and the slight tremors in her hand. She looked exhausted. She was exhausted.
"Do you remember anything else?"
"I remember you saying something. And then you were crying. I called you doll."
"And that was adorable," she said, standing up, and kissing his cheek. He shut his eyes at the contact, feeling like some of the weight in his chest was gone. "Now, lie down. I'll be back in a second."
As she walked away, and he sat back, he called out to her. "Cara?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Cara, I'm having Claire drop off some antibiotics. His infection is caused by some sort of bacteria, probably because of that horrendous metal arm. The good news is his immune system is amazing, extremely amazing, I'd like to study it after this, it's already fighting it off on it's own. We're just going to give him some antibiotics to help. I'll talk to you soon."
Ellis had left the message about a day after his initial visit. Bucky had been looking slightly better at the time, or at least at stopped complaining about the hallucinations, mainly just sleeping.
And now, he was actually awake, seeming better off than before this whole thing (other than the fact that he had collapsed after taking a step, but hey, that was to be expected). But he was okay. He was fine.
Bucky Barnes was okay.
The thought brought a smile up to her lips, as she leaned against the counter by the coffeepot, a swinging an empty mug around her finger. It may 1:50 in the morning, but the night was not over for her. The more she thought it, the more it seemed true, and the more it seemed like it might be permanent. The more she thought it, the more she could not seem to get the smile off her face.
A sudden movement by the window made her jump, her head snapping up, the action making her drop the mug in her hands. It shattered. There was nothing but the dim light of street lamps outside. It was only her sleep-deprived, overactive imagination playing a trick on her. She took a deep breath, leaning down to pick up the broken glass pieces, muttering under her breath.
"Cara?"
She looked up to see Bucky leaning heavily against the wall, looking like he literally dragged himself out of bed, and through the hall.
"Hey," she said. "You don't need to be up."
"I heard a crash."
"I dropped this. Sorry."
She threw the pieces in the trash, then walked quickly over to him, wrapping her arm around his waist, and helping him stumble back to bed.
"You look tired," he said, as he sat down.
"I am a little."
"Don't sleep in that chair."
"It's been fine so far."
"There's plenty of space here," he said, lying back, turning on his side. "You could catch a few decent hours."
"Bucky, I can't do that-"
"Why not?" He said. He gave her a pleading look. "Please, Cara. Please, it will make me feel better."
She groaned. "I cannot say no to you when you do that," she said, tapping him lightly on the nose. She stood up, yawning, moving to turn off the light,and sitting down next to him, leaning back so that she faced him. He reached for her hand. She was just able to see his face in the dark, his eyes open and watching her.
"Sweet dreams," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow."
A/N: I literally cannot stop with the Sandman references. Whoops.
This chapter is probably full of weird sentences/typos, but I can't bring myself to edit it again. Not very happy with it, but I think it's the best it's ever going to be.
Thanks as always for reading/reviewing! You are the reason I am not still staring at this in a swirling vortex of doubt and hopelessness.