Heaviness was the first sensation Sam felt, the pounding pain in his head not wasting time in announcing its presence next.

He toiled with his thoughts before even attempting to open his eyes, not having grasped consciousness just yet.

Whatever had hit him had hit him quickly, that much Sam could gather. His foggy memory providing few details at this crucial moment. It was as if the information was being kept from him, an unknown force playing a cruel trick.

Sam groaned a curse out loud, clarity slowly creeping into the forefront of his mind.

Having eventually decided to open his eyes he was greeted by the basement ceiling. A ringing in his ears quickly became apparent. Becoming coherent allowing for that lovely sensation to manifest into reality.

He could just about hear himself grumbling as he pulled the shield from his arm, sitting himself up on one elbow. The shield rattled around on its front, settling with the underside facing up, leather straps loose to allow for easy manageability.

The world suddenly tilted on its axis, Sam's vision spinning from his abrupt movements. He took some deep breaths, his stomach threatening to unleash its contents. The threats were heard loud and clear.

Sam took the time he needed to let the wave of nausea pass. Having outlasted the awful feeling without spilling his guts, Sam pushed himself up fully.

He delicately glanced to his side, not wanting to prompt any more discomfort than what he was already experiencing.

This caution went out the window when his eyes landed on Bucky, laying on his side unconscious.

Moving with as much haste as he dared, Sam half dragged himself over to his fallen ally.

"Bucky?" Sam could hear his own muffled voice through the chiming bells in his ears, the sound of his suit dragging across the floor distant.

He gripped Bucky's shoulder, feeling a warmth under the blue leather, the man lying on his metal arm.

The soldier didn't respond. His hands lay scattered in front of his face, eyes closed, expression blank.

With the clanging in his eardrums subsiding to a buzz, being no longer masked by the overwhelming ringing, a new sound became audible.

He could hear someone speaking. Speaking words that Sam couldn't understand.

The open crate in front of him was the culprit, the voice coming from within. With the buzzing in Sam's ears fading to a hum, he was struck with an unwanted realisation.

The box was speaking Russian.

Sam got to his feet, leaving Bucky on the floor along with the shield.

He was sore all over, his fall against the solid concrete, of course not having been pleasant. Sam worked through it; such pleasantries of comfort having been forfeited as soon as he had signed up for the military.

He propped himself up against the crate, a hand on each side of the open container.

An elaborate contraption had been set off within, a system set in place to trigger a device when the case lid was lifted above a certain thresh hold. The bulbs that had blinded them had burst from the exertion of such bright light; glass littered throughout the case.

All the components were sat on a false bottom, making sure they were at the top of the case and in sight as soon as someone opened the lid.

Amongst the glass and wires was a plastic voice recorder.

The play button had been pushed in by the complicated mechanism built within the case, small red light blinking back at him to show it was indeed playing.

Sam listened, not sure what to make of the string of words at first. The male voice was gravelly, the recording itself sounding old.

Sam concluded that the voice was just repeating two words.

"Otkazoustoychivyy, prizrak." Sam poorly pronounced out loud, having hoped for some form of revelation with a different perspective.

Movement behind Sam made him look back.

Bucky's eyes were closed, but there was a strain growing on his face, a tremble starting to develop.

"Shit." Sam cursed. That revelation he had wanted, hit him like a ton of bricks.

He grabbed the device from the box, a press of a button ceasing the Russian words. Sam dropped it back down carelessly, his attention heading back to Bucky.

A fist slugged Sam in the face.

Dazed from the heavy blow he fell back against the crate, hands taking hold of the edges to stop him falling all the way.

Sam couldn't control the startled expression that was slapped across his face as Bucky swung again for him.

Sam pushed off the box, rolling to dodge the incoming metal fist.

"Buck, stop!" Sam was back on his feet adeptly. Balance regained in a heartbeat, having recovered well from the hit.

Bucky just looked right through him.

He was literally looking right at Sam, but it was as if he couldn't see him. Not as someone he knew anyway.

Bucky didn't hesitate. Sam's words having no visible effect.

Arm up, Sam's gauntlet met Bucky's forearm. The Vibranium laced throughout his suit able to absorb some of the super-soldier's attack. Didn't mean it didn't hurt, a vibration rattling through the bones in his arm.

Bucky kicked out, trying for Sam's knee. Quick on his feet he avoided the attempted strike by stepping back, having to then in quick succession weave under flying fists.

"I don't want to fight you!" Sam breathed heavy, taking a lot to keep up with the old man.

Those steal blue eyes locked onto him with murderous intent. Sam remembered that look all too well, he had seen those eyes before.

The Winter Soldier advanced, Sam remaining on the defensive as he was pummelled by the metal fist, the soldier growling from the ferocity of the rapid punches.

Sam stood his ground, muscles tensed, arms braced against himself taking the brunt of the attack.

The soldier switched tactics.

He grabbed Sam's wrist, boot swiping his foot out from under him, forcing him to the ground.

A hand went for Sam's neck. He had no choice but to defend himself. Landing a kick to the soldier's face sent him staggering back, the man's hand having to come to the floor to gather himself.

Sam was only just picking himself up when he saw the Winter Soldier tactfully roll for Bucky's fallen firearm.

There was no thought behind the process, Sam scrambling for his shield, raising it immediately once in his grasp.

The handgun discharged, the bang reverberating throughout the basement. Sam didn't feel anything strike the shield.

Peering out from behind his cover he could see the soldier had the gun pointed to the side of him, smoke rising from the barrel. The bullet having found its home in the basement wall.

There was sweat on Bucky's brow, eyes no longer barren of emotion. He wasn't looking at Sam. He was looking at the shield.

"It's me Bucky, It's Sam." He kept his words slow, calm, even though he needed to catch his breath.

"Sam…" Bucky mumbled, eyes scrunching closed, face crumpling in on itself.

The gun clattered to the ground, Bucky dropped down on his knees, sitting back on his heals his head hung in front of him.

It was like a chanting in the dark. Something long forgotten deep within his subconscious being drawn to the surface.

In the void of his own mind Bucky was helpless. He couldn't run, he couldn't fight. He was stuck in place, his past ready to swallow him whole.

He could have sworn he had put this all behind him, that he had amended and accepted his past life.

He thought he was free.

But these words. These words stung with a familiarity. They were drawing another man out from a long slumber. Barriers that had been put in place to prevent such a rise opened with uncomfortable ease from just two words.

'Failsafe, ghost.'

The Russian growl led the way for the Winter Soldier, opening the path through his mind, guiding him back to the controls. Hands dragged Bucky down, reality slipping through his fingers.

There was a need to scream, wanting to shout out. But there was no fight from him, no give on the chains that were hauling him from his position at the helm.

There was no doubt now that he had lost all control, having no will of his own.

Bucky could do nothing but concede.

The Winter Soldier strolling past him as they switched places.

The Winter Soldier didn't know where he was. His mind drawing a blank on pretty much everything.

All he did know were two words echoing in his mind, an order.

'Otkazoustoychivyy, prizrak.'

Commands in place he got himself up, not caring for his surroundings, acknowledging its existence as far as he got.

Finding his target wasn't hard, he was standing in front of him, back facing his way. The red, white, and blue suit able to catch anyone's eye in the dull environment instantaneously.

He engaged, not needing to know anything else. He had his mission, he just had to finish it.

The man turned into his fist. His target pitched backwards, falling against the crate behind him.

The soldier was all too familiar with the pinned expression of fear people expressed when they met him. It never affected him before, why did he take notice of it now?

The thought was gone as quick as it came, the heat of combat easily distracting.

Dodging his second swing, the target rolled from range. The soldier stored the useful information, learning the man's techniques as they fought, allowing him to plan his attacks to optimise his strategy.

Agile, was his first mental note.

"Buck, stop!" The targets words barely registered, drowned out by the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

Seeing red he committed. In his mind, there was only one way this fight was going to end.

"I don't want to fight you!" The man insisted, maintaining his defensive stance.

Why?

Why… Why didn't matter, it never mattered?

He laid into the man, fist striking repeatedly, wanting to ware down his defensives. Annoyingly his target was resistant. A change of approach was due, the soldier needing to break his guard.

Faking a punch, he grabbed the man's wrist. Swiping his leg out from under him putting gravity on the soldier's side, doing half the work for him as he brought the target to the floor.

Countered with a kick to the face the soldier was forced back.

Agile, he recalled a little too late.

As soon as he spotted the discarded handgun the soldier dived for it, sliding across the floor on his thigh he collected the weapon up in his capable hand.

He was standing, gun pointed with just the one hand.

The target had reacted, snatching up a shield from the floor. He pulled the trigger, bullet whizzing out of the barrel.

The smoke sizzled from the tip of the gun. Something had come over the soldier, his eyes entranced by the shield in the man's grasp.

He didn't even register that he had diverted his own aim, gun having been skewed away from its original target at the last second.

"Bucky it's me, it's Sam."

Something snapped in his mind, a force pushing its way through. His brain boiled from the internal battle. A memory slipped through a cage, forcing the man to remember.

"Sam…" Bucky didn't even recognise the voice as his own.

With that single memory's great escape, everything began flooding back in. Overwhelming him. Bucky didn't catch on to his panicked breathing. Nor did he notice the gun tumble from his hand.

The humming in Sam's ears had been whittled down to a distant memory. A spec of light was starting to be shone on exactly what had just happened. Sam felt a sense of dread building, like a rising torrent that could drown him if he weren't careful.

"You with me?" Sam asked, unable to keep the deep concern from his voice.

Bucky remained where he was, looking down at his lap.

He was shaking, eyes closed as he thought for control over his breath.

Sam took a knee in front of his friend, shielded arm at his side, the other resting on his knee.

Bucky breathed through his nose, nostrils flaring.

"Bucky?" Sam wanted to reach out, put a comforting hand on the man's shoulder but he stopped himself. "You with me buddy?" Sam kept his calm demeanour, even in the extremely difficult situation. He couldn't help but wish at this point, Steve was in his place.

Bucky's head lifted, meeting Sam's eyeline only for a second.

The pain in those old eyes was something Sam knew he would now carry with him.

He had seen his fair share of soldiers traumatised by war. None compared to Bucky.

"Hey." Sam revaluated his decision from earlier, gripping the man's shoulder tentatively, making Bucky look back at him. "I need to know that you're with me."

Bucky swallowed. His lips parted, wanting to speak, stalling temporarily.

"Y- yeah…" Came the short stutter.

Authors Notes

Ooooo, I'm loving this story.

Planning on posting every couple of days, as I am writing longer chapters than I normally do, and I need the time to proof read. I'm dyslexic so it takes a while XD
Hope you enjoyed the chapter and will see you soon!