Chapter 19 - Stump Removal

"Oh, Ste-eve. Steve? Steeeve. Come on, STEVE! Steven Grant Rogers. Wakey-Wakey. Come on. You can't nap on the job. I thought Captain America had better scruples," Tony teases.

Steve slowly stirs.

Tony notices that he's coming around. "Hey, you're awake," he says like he's suprised.

"How long have I been out?"

"I don't know. It's been about 12 - maybe 14 hours I guess?"

It's been about 14 hours since he tortured and electrocuted his best friend. He can hardly think about it. It makes him sick.

"How're you doing there, Cap?"

Steve grunts, not ready to talk about any of this. "Did you sleep?"

"A little. Boogeyman - nightmares."

Steve takes a deep breath, "You know, this is how they made the Winter Soldier in the first place?"

"Yeah, I know," Tony admits.

"Jesus fucking Christ. It's too much. There's too much … too much trauma ... too much violence … too much loss. How did he…? How did he survive this? No one could survive this. No one should have to survive this … again."

Steve leans his head back and stares straight ahead. "How many people know we came here?" "How many might look for us? How long have we been here? Does anyone even know we're missing?"

"Wilson knows I came after y'all. 'Course he's on the Raft with Clint and the others. I was gonna get them all out when I got back, but ... you know ... not back. Nat might know we're here. She held off T'Challa, when you and Barnes left, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure anyone realizes we've disappeared. That we're more than missing. It was such an ugly scene. We could be stubbornly nursing our hurt pride and our wounds for all they know."

"Yeah, kinda afraid that might be the case," Tony admits.

Steve nods towards Bucky, "Did he ever come around, yet?"

"Nah, he's been out the whole time. Just a few muscle twitches and groans."

"He needs food. I mean, we all do, but with those electrical burns, his body is gonna start to cannibalize itself to repair his tissues. Especially if his brain was injured by those shocks in his head. I'm sure it's meant to be just another version of the shock therapy."

Bucky's head lolls to the side a little.

"Bucky, you awake?" Steve calls.

"No," Bucky grunts. His voice is rough and gravelly - like sandpaper. "Fire ants - in throat. Thirsty."

About an hour later, the rectangular doorway of light appears, and the same two women as before enter the cell but only one is carrying a tray. The nurse who had taken care of them previously has three IV bags full of fluids, electrolytes, and dextrose on her tray this time. She inserts an IV catheter into each of them and hangs the bags from the thick metal rings protruding from the walls behind them. Bucky barely notices. Both women turn and leave the cell.

A new video begins a couple of hours later. It's dated November 1946. Steve recognizes Armin Zola's voice immediately.

Bucky's eyes pop open like someone just whacked him upside the head. He panics. "No, no, no, no. I can't - I can't," his voice is so strained and hoarse.

"You understand my time with you must be limited?" Zola says to General Karpov. "I must be at the conference in West Berlin, otherwise it will be suspicious."

"We will have you back in time for the conference. The serum has been refined enough that the Soldat will survive the surgery now. It is urgent that we proceed at once."

Three orderlies are strapping Bucky onto the surgical bed. He can feel the hard leather of the straps and the cold metal of the table against his bare skin. He remains impassive and lethargic as surgeons and nurses bustle around him.

Zola bends over Bucky's left side, peering at the remains of the arm. "There is not enough bone left in what remains to affix my creation. Additional casings and anchors will be needed. We will need to remove all of what's left and several ribs within the torso."

"Certainly," the assistant surgeon replies. "Are you certain on what bones you want to be replaced?"

"Yes, four ribs on the left. I believe we should also replace several ribs on the right side of the body to add support to counteract the weight of the arm."

One of the nurses consults with Dr. Zola as they draw vivisection lines across Bucky's skin. They draw on his shoulder, down both of his sides, and across his chest. These are the incisions they will make during the operation.

A nurse preps him and inserts a rubber bit into his mouth. The chemical taste is disgusting and makes him nauseous. He gags a little.

"Dr. Zola, we are ready to begin when you are," one of the nurses says.

Suddenly the bone saw begins to whine, and Bucky panics. He strains against the cuffs holding him down. The permanent manacle is secured to the leather straps running across his body. Even his neck and forehead are secured to the bed. He realizes with shocking clarity that they are going to operate on him now … while he is still awake. An ugly, desperate horror fills his face.

"Oh my God," Steve dry-heaves. He's got nothing to throw up. His body is using all the fluids from the IV. He could honestly use more. "No. Oh my God … No. No!"

"No anesthesia?" Tony is stunned. "Just a paralytic? … That's sick ... as long as they had a respirator and a pacemaker, he wouldn't die."

Steve looks at Bucky who seems to be watching the horror unfold on the screen with a kind of sick detachment. His eyes are a little glassy and unfocused.

Tony looks at Steve with a terrified expression. They know that Bucky has already experienced this once.

"Don't you fucking come near me with that!" The onscreen Bucky snarls and thrashes in his bonds.

"The procedure has already started." Zola smiles down at him. "You will be the new face of Hydra. You may scream if you like."

"God, no - no - no ... please ... please don't … don't ... DON'T!" On-screen Bucky pleads, now.

Zola takes the bone saw and holds it against Bucky's arm. He feels the first bite of the blade into the stump of his left arm. He screams as warm blood splashes against his face. He screams and screams and screams and screams. The pain is an excruciating - unimaginable agony.

Steve wishes he could cover his ears. They kneel in their cell while the entire 18-hour surgery is played for them to witness. They can't get away - they can't look away - from the horror - from the gore - from the terror that is happening to Bucky, and it unfolds right in front of them. They see it all. They can see that Bucky couldn't move. He couldn't turn away. He screams again and again - his voice becomes so hoarse and blood trickles out of his mouth as his throat bleeds from being raw.

Zola examines the remainder of Bucky's arm. "It is still not enough. We will have to remove the entire socket and rebuild it from there. The damage is too extensive to support my creation," Zola advises.

Again, Zola takes the bone saw and holds it against Bucky's shoulder. It bites into his clavicle as it cuts through live muscles and tendons. They remove Bucky's entire clavicle and scapula. He screams and thrashes as more blood splashes against his face and spills onto the floor. He screams and screams and screams and screams. The pain is excruciating - he can't get away from it. Why won't they let him die?

Zola cuts into Bucky's left side and carves out four ribs. Bucky screams again and again. Four new titanium ribs are inserted into his body, They are anchored to his spinal column and soldered into place. The vertebrae are wrapped in a titanium shield to support the weight of the new arm. Strips of metal are also screwed into the sternum to anchor the front of the ribs.

Tony looks at Bucky. He knows Bucky won't answer, but he can't help it. "It's … it's attached... attached to your... spine? To your fucking spine? Wow, of course! It's too heavy … what? It's like 75 pounds? Your clavicle would have snapped. Your spine might have snapped or warped. There'd be no way for you to use it. So they anchored it … to your fucking spine? Shit. That's fucking barbaric."

The assistant surgeon is on the other side. He slices open Bucky's rib cage - his lungs are visibly expanding and contracting as he breathes. The secondary surgeon saws off three ribs from the right side, inserting titanium replacements to help balance the weight and add support. They are soldered to the reinforced vertebrae.

Bucky's lungs inflate upwards as they fill with air. He lets go of a howl that is inhuman in its sound and intensity.

"Jesus fucking Christ! They removed so much." Steve whispers. Neither Steve nor Tony can look away. It's like watching a car crash … but soooo much worse.

As the surgery continues, Bucky's entire left shoulder is replaced with titanium parts. A new scapula is fitted to the frame and secured to his new ribs. Then they attach a new clavicle. His voice is so hoarse, but he screams again. He can't stop it. He can't stop the pain. He can't stop the screams. He can't die. Why won't he die?

Electronics and wires are inserted into the remaining bone and muscle tissue of his shoulder. They're soldered to his remaining nerves and muscles and threaded through the new titanium bones. The process is excruciating. Each new connection elicits a hoarse shriek from Bucky as they are connected to his live nerves and come online.

He flatlines three times during the surgery ... they won't let him die. They bring him back after every crash.

It's during these 18 hours of living, torturous hell that James Buchanan Barnes lost the fight for his sanity and his identity. No one could survive that horror unscathed. He let's go ... his mind splinters.

Karpov and Lukin watch the surgery through a glass in the wall just outside the room. "Я сказал вам, что операция без анестезии сломает его," (I told you that the surgery without anesthesia would break him.) Karpov says to Lukin.

"Вы были правы. Чтобы почувствовать каждый разрез, каждый кусочек, каждую трещину. Изысканный," (You were correct. To feel every incision, every slice, every bone crack. Exquisite.) Lukin replies.

They knew his mind would break … and they were right. The light in his eyes went out - his mind became devoid of thought. His eyes - dead. They gazed out at the world with nothing in them: no anger, no joy, no fear, no love - nothing.

Bucky looks at Tony. "I gave in. I had to let go. I chose to let go. It had to stop. The pain had to stop," Bucky whispers, so quietly, staring straight ahead.

He doesn't quite seem aware that he's spoken. He's not there - in his head. It's like the video, and the memories, and the agony have forced his mind to retreat deep within ... where he can hide. He stares but sees nothing. Steve's crying and looks at Tony who just shakes his head. They both know that Bucky's mind has retreated again. He's leaving them more and more often. He's just relived one of the most horrifying memories of his life. Like he said, he's let go again.

"Steve, I don't know how long … how long he can do this … how many times before … he doesn't … he can't make it back again," Tony says.

"Volkov was right," Steve sighs. "Replaying all of this - making Bucky watch it again. Experience it again. It's breaking him without the need to repeat the actual torture itself. I didn't realize how effective historical film could be, but then … I never really knew.

"I read the files. I saw some video footage. But this? Oh, God, I really … I really had no idea. It's so detailed. It's so … so sick - they recorded everything, and this is still … still. It's just pieces. A day or two here or there. A peek every few months.

"They had him for YEARS. For fucking YEARS! They tortured him every day. Every fucking day! For YEARS," Steve panics - he can't breathe.

"It's ok. It's gotta be ok ... It's gotta be," Tony tries to reassure Steve. "I don't know how … how he lasted as long as he did. It was almost two … two years before they even operated on him. Shit - two years of torture. Every day! Everyone thought he was dead. He knew you were dead. He gave up. He knew no one was looking for him."

Tony's head snaps up to look at Steve. There's a horrified expression on his face. "Oh Fuck ... No one ... No one's looking for us."