Another lab. It may have been sleek and clean, and far different from all the labs he had known before, but it was a lab all the same, and that fact made Bucky's skin crawl. He closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing and trying to ignore the fear that was clawing at his lungs. He could feel restraints across his chest tighten as his breath quickened. His legs were similarly immobilized, and another strap, wrapped with soft sheepskin, sat snugly in the crook of his elbow. He felt a strange, longing lack as he glanced to his left, to where his other arm used to be. He could still feel the weight of it against his shoulder. His stomach spanged with unease, the memories of other labs and other scientists sparking a desire to fight or to flee. The taste of fear, metallic and bitter, pooled around the backs of his molars.
Shuri drifted into his field of vision, her braided hair held back to the nape of her neck with a shining pin of onyx and silver. Ayo stood slightly behind her, stone-faced and silent as always, holding her spear at her side like a walking stick. The two had cleared the lab, knowing without asking that Bucky did not want anyone seeing what was to come. He couldn't bear anyone else seeing his shame. Shuri and Ayo did not fear him, but they feared for him, despite Shuri's repeated words of reassurance. He could see the unease behind her kind eyes. Ayo's eyes, however, were blank, unreadable.
"Are you ready?" Shuri asked as she moved to Bucky's right side and gently checked that all the restraining bonds were tight but not causing any pain. He did not speak in reply, only nodded, his face not betraying any of the things churning inside: terror, dread, rage, regret, loneliness. Shuri placed a small brass colored ring against each of Bucky's temples, and the cold touch of the metal intensified the taste of fear in his mouth.
Ayo stepped forward to his left side, looking down at him with her inscrutable eyes. After a confirming glance at Shuri, she spoke, her voice low and controlled.
"Longing."
A rush of adrenaline, painful as a heart attack, rushed from Bucky's guts through his chest and crawled up his throat. He felt every tendon and sinew spring to attention, strength and violence coiling in his muscles like snakes. He tensed still more as Shuri's small hand touched the pinky finger of his right hand, gentle as a bird coming to light.
"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes." Suri's voice was soft but unfrightened, and her mouth was pressed into a sad slant. She softly ran her index finger over the top of his hand from the base of his wrist up to the top of his middle finger. The sensation of her touch made him want to shiver as he concentrated on her voice and repeated her words in his head.
My name is James. I am James Buchanan Barnes. I'm Bucky. I'm Bucky.
"Rusted."
The devil in Bucky's mind stirred, a shark sensing blood in the water. Suri turned his hand over, exposing the palm, and repeated her motion, tracing the skin from the base of his wrist to the tip of his middle finger again. "You are from Brooklyn, New York, in the United States of America."
I am from Brooklyn. My name is James, and I am from Brooklyn.
"Seventeen."
Bucky fought off a tide of nausea and closed his eyes, the bright lights of the lab turning the backs of his eyelids red. The Soldier was there watching, waiting, willing. With a steeling, hitching breath, Bucky opened his eyes forced himself to look at Shuri and Ayo.
"Your mother's name was Winifred. You think of her every time you see a robin, or when you smell lilacs." Shuri's fingers tracked over the calluses along the side of Bucky's trigger finger this time, and he had to swallow down a shudder that he wasn't sure from revulsion, sorrow, or repressed violence. To have the memories he had shared with Shuri spoken aloud as the Soldier awoke made him feel sick.
I used to pick lilacs from Fort Greene Park for her on my way home from school. She would put them in a mason jar on the kitchen table. Her name was Winifred. Winifred was my mother.
"Daybreak."
Bucky's shoulder and hips gave an involuntary heave, as if testing the strength of his bonds. The Soldier was awake in full now, crouched like some beast of prey, taut and ready to spring. "Your father's name was George. When he left for the military, he told you to take care of your sister, and to be a good man, no matter the cost." Shuri grazed the skin from Bucky's wrist to his thumb, stopping for a moment to rest atop a small scar on the crease of his knuckle.
My father's name was George. He never came home. He was the kind of man I wanted to be. I wanted him to be proud of me.
"Furnace."
The Soldier was writhing inside Bucky now, thrashing and clawing for freedom. "Your sister Rebecca wrote to you every Sunday while you were at basic training. She pressed daisies and sent them with her letters. She signed each of them 'With all my love, baby sister'." Shuri brushed her way from wrist to ring finger now, her eyes fixed on Bucky's face, and he looked back at her, concentrating on the plaits in her hair, barely able to hide the pleading that was pounding behind his brain.
Rebecca wore braids too. She had such a lovely singing voice, always joining in when the radio played Cheek to Cheek by Fred Astaire. She loved that song so much that she made me take her to see Top Hat four times at the Grand Theater.
"Nine."
The torture chamber in Bucky's brain seemed to blaze suddenly with light, memories cascading like a rockslide, faces and bodies and blood and screaming and slaughter, every memory summoning a demon, reminders of sins written in blood. Shuri's fingers tracked up his pinky finger, soft as a breath of wind. "Your best friend is Steve. You rescued him from bullies who were trying to steal his money, and you were friends from that day forward. He trusted you completely. And you trusted him, and the two of you are bound together until the end of the line."
Until the end of the line.
"Benign."
Shuri laid her fingers across Bucky's palm, resting them against his skin so he could feel her warmth. "You used to charm bottles of beer out of the old widow lady at the corner store near your flat, and then you and Steve would scale the fire escape of his building in the middle of the night to stare at the lights of the city and talk about how you both wanted to change the world." Bucky's lip twitched upward in what could have been a snarl or a sob. "He still believes in you, and he loves you."
Steve believes in me. He loves me.
"Homecoming."
The Soldier was on the move now, rushing through Bucky's body like a tsunami, taking control of every muscle, sinew, tendon, heartbeat, breath. "You did things that you can't take back." Shuri rested her fingertips over the pulse point of Bucky's wrist, feeling the hummingbird beat of his racing heart."But those moments do not define you, and they do not represent your future."
"One."
Bucky felt the last of his control leaking from him as from a sieve and his fear began to merge with anger, a rage like coals fanned by a bellows. "You are your own man. You have your own mind. You have your own will. You have your own soul. You can choose to be the kind of man that you want to be, the man you truly are." Shuri's fingers twined into Bucky's and she gripped his hand as if trying to pass him strength and peace.
I can choose. I am not my past.
Shuri released Bucky's hand and instead rested it on his sweat-damp forehead, and she leaned close, whispering. "Those days are over."
"Freight car."
The final words slid around Bucky's brain stem like quicksilver, and the taste of bile rose in the back of his throat as his last strand of self-control snapped like a cable. His muscles began to strain against his bonds as the Soldier, eager to rise and comply, pushed him to the back of his own brain. He vaguely saw Ayo shake her head at Shuri. James Buchanan Barnes now watched as the Soldier bucked and writhed against his bonds, silent and terrifying, searching for a way out, primed for violence.
Shuri leaned close to Bucky's ear as he felt a buzz of warmth begin to burn at his temples and his consciousness started to fade, his vision narrowing to a pinpoint. He felt Shuri's breath against the side of his face, and as darkness crashed over him, he heard her voice one more time. "Those days are over."