Chapter 18: The Killer Hydes Inside
Bucky needed to get away from the room that sometimes felt like a sanctuary and, other times, a prison. His body needed calories, so he forced himself to eat half the food Sam brought, even though his insides were a mess after the day's session with the Wakandan princess. He put the leftovers in the refrigerator as he eyed the vibranium arm still on the counter and decided to leave it there. Then, he headed out the door, making his way down the hallway and downstairs to the main exit.
He was exhausted, but he knew sleep wouldn't come easily, and if it did, it would bring nightmares. He made it to the elevator, too tired to go for the stairs, when Natasha rounded the corner.
He groaned and studied the elevator panel in front of him. As the doors opened, he stepped inside. Natasha entered behind him.
"Barnes." She nodded at him. "You're still viral, but so far a mystery man."
It took Bucky a second to realize she was talking about their excursion to the Pub and run-in with Hydra agents in the city.
Natasha hit the button for the ground floor. "FRIDAY found three possible locations where the Hydra stragglers might be based."
Bucky wasn't in the mood for conversation or company, and it felt like the elevator was taking a ridiculously long time to descend. Silence lingered a few more moments, then the elevator dinged.
Before the doors opened, Natasha turned to him. "I don't know the details, but I heard that today was rough."
The doors opened, and Bucky stepped out. Natasha followed, getting off on the same floor.
"Barnes," she called as she stopped in the hall.
He stopped but didn't turn to look at her. He just wanted some peace for a few hours.
She spoke with unusual gentleness. "You're more resilient than you think you are. You're a good man that bad things happened to."
A good man? He finally turned to look at her. She stood, hands at her sides and head tilted slightly, her red hair cascading past her shoulders. He was a good man once, he liked to believe. He didn't think he qualified as one now, not after everything Hydra had put inside him.
"Don't let your guard down, Romanoff," he growled. "There's still a killer inside me."
-0- -0- -0-
Ayo followed Shuri into the luxury suite they had secured for the prince and princess. Ayo had never seen the princess so shaken. Shuri was wise and mature beyond her years, but she had lived a sheltered life given her status and age.
The events of the day had taken a toll on the young princess. Even Ayo was rattled, and she had not lived anything close to a sheltered life. She had seen much of what humanity was capable of, and yet she was still shocked by what she witnessed in Bucky's memories.
She had been surprised that the King allowed Shuri to leave Wakanda to help a stranger, but it was not her place to approve or disapprove of her King's decisions. It was her duty to protect and serve. Now, the girl in front of her needed a different kind of service.
Shuri collapsed onto the bed. By Wakandan standards, the room was simple though spacious and comfortable, with a king-sized bed, bland artwork, a very large television, and small kitchen near a tasteful seating area.
"Ayo," Shuri's soft voice was muffled against the pillow, "I wish to be alone."
Ayo sat on the bed next to the princess. "There would be no shame in going home, young one. The problems of these men are not our own. If an alien force is to invade our planet and threaten Wakanda, perhaps it is best if your time is spent in your lab, devising methods of defense against such an advanced enemy."
Shuri looked up at Ayo with eyes that barely held back tears. "My father has allowed me only three days in New York. I convinced him to allow me to come, and I intend to follow through on my commitment." She sighed heavily and dropped her head back to the pillow. "I don't know if what I'm doing is helping James Barnes or hurting him."
Ayo reached out and put a hand on Shuri's arm. "If anyone can help that man, I have faith that you can. It is unfortunate that, to do so, you must carry part of his burden."
It was a burden no child, not even one as extraordinary as Shuri, should ever have to bear.
-0- -0- -0-
"You know me."
"No, I don't!"
Steve stared at the replay of events from months ago in the hologram hovering above the table. They were on their third and final day with the Wakandans. Shuri was more subdued today, but still using all the time left to gather as much data as she could.
She explained she was attempting to record the neural patterns that had been active in Bucky's brain when he shook himself free of the Winter Soldier programming and saved Steve that day on the helicarrier.
"Bucky, you've known me your whole life."
Bucky screamed and threw a backhanded punch that sent Steve reeling.
Steve watched as he picked himself up. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."
"Shut up!"
Another punch sent Steve flying backward and, again, he got to his feet, shield in hand, then yanked off his mask.
"I'm not gonna fight you." He dropped the shield. "You're my friend."
Bucky's breathing sounded strained and heavy. Then he screamed and lunged into Steve, landing hard above a dizzying view of smoke, fire, and water.
"You're my mission." Bucky's metal fist lashed out with six hard punches. Then, he hesitated.
Another image overlayed, like a ghost projection. A dark room. Steve's face. Steve recognized it immediately as Zola's lab in Azzano. It was the moment Steve found Bucky strapped to that table.
"What we're seeing," Shuri explained quietly, "is a flashback the scanners are picking up and attempting to read and decipher along with the primary memory."
Steve watched, amazed that he was able to see a memory within a memory, all inside Bucky's head. He stared at himself in the projection—one eye swollen shut, cuts and blood on his face, and his open eye staring directly at Bucky. "Then finish it, 'cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."
Another holographic overlay appeared… Steve in front of his Brooklyn apartment, Bucky's hand on his shoulder. The image vanished, replaced again by Steve's bloody face on the helicarrier, poised high above the river.
A girder slammed past Bucky, barely missing him and sending Steve plummeting below. Steve saw himself falling further and further away in Bucky's memories. The scene shifted again, another flashback evidenced by a ghostly mountain range, a train, and Steve's anguished face above.
The holograph vanished completely for a moment, then morphed back to the river. Bucky was falling, slamming into the water, his metal arm stretched out. It grabbed Steve's suspender, yanking him upward. Steve watched himself dragged toward shore, then laid out gently on the bank.
The image hovered over him for a moment as he coughed up water. Then the perspective panned upward, scanning the riverbank and the trees, as Bucky turned and walked away.
Steve looked at the flesh-and-blood figure of his friend on the exam table, confined once again by vibranium restraints, his eyes closed, his breathing slightly fast but steady.
That had been one of the worst days of Steve's life, but it had also been the beginning of the end of the Winter Soldier. He couldn't imagine what it must have taken for Bucky to break free of Hydra's programming and make his way, alone and with no resources, all the way to Hungary.
Shuri's fingers moved within the holographic display of Bucky's brain, swiping and pinching areas, and the projection shifted in rapid succession through various memories, so quickly that Steve could barely make them out. He caught a glimpse of the Captain America Smithsonian exhibit and Bucky's memorial display. Then a man's face Steve didn't recognize in a dark apartment. A metal fist whipped out, breaking the man's nose and dropping him to the floor. A safe door being torn open, cash inside. A dark alley. A dark room, rocking slightly. A boat, maybe, Steve thought, possibly cargo.
Gunshots. Being chased through streets that looked vaguely European. Heavy breathing, footsteps. More firefights. A whirlwind of images and sounds flashed through quickly as Shuri's fingers navigated the neural patterns in the holographic display.
Then an image solidified, Bucky in the chair. Another Hydra memory. Bucky's screams filled the room again and Steve took a breath. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to the sound of them. He hoped to God he didn't.
Bucky's body jerked on the exam table in front of Steve and a grunt escaped his throat. Shuri's fingers danced over the tablet, and Bucky stilled.
Thank God. Steve gave a relieved sigh.
Familiar Russian words sounded from the hologram—the activation sequence for the Winter Soldier. Three words in, Shuri touched the neural patterns in the holographic brain image, then her brow furrowed.
Steve watched her work, navigating the holographic display. He wasn't sure what she was seeing in the patterns, but her face betrayed concern.
"What's going on?" Steve moved closer to Bucky on the table. "Is everything all right?"
Shuri glanced over at Steve with narrowed, worried eyes. "I'm attempting to move to another memory, but his brain seems locked into this one."
Cold realization snaked through Steve's gut as he listened to the sequence continue. Word seven. Word eight. He snatched the neural scanners off Bucky's head.
"That won't work," Shuri said, just as Bucky's eyes sprang open.
The Dora Milaje instantly took up positions in front of Shuri, their spears raised. Dr. Abodon remained behind them, at his usual position near the workstation.
"FRIDAY," Steve said, "Get Wanda in here."
Bucky lurched upward, but the restraints held, and he toppled off the table, a frustrated growl erupting from his throat as he hit the floor. He looked down at his one arm tethered to the vibranium belt and the thick shackles around his ankles and rolled, bucking, and kicking like a cornered animal fighting to survive.
"Bucky, calm down." Steve was torn between keeping out of range of Bucky's flailing so as not to inadvertently injure him or wrestling him into submission.
When he heard the sickening snap of Bucky's wrist, he sprang into action. Bucky was going to kill himself trying to escape. The moment Steve tackled his friend, Bucky roared and twisted sideways. Even shackled, he was difficult to subdue.
"FRIDAY," Steve screamed as he wrapped his arms around Bucky's chest., "Where's Wanda?"
"On her way," came the AIs reply.
Bucky's movements were fueled by desperation and either terror or anger—Steve couldn't tell which—but he managed to swing his bound legs to the side and push against the wall, sending him and Steve sliding across the floor lab, under the exam table, and into a cabinet next to Abodon.
The Doctor hurried out of the way as fast as his ageing body allowed, and one of the Dora Milaje stepped in front of him, spear in hand, as the others ushered the princess out of the lab.
What happened next was a blur. Something sparked from the cabinet Bucky had slammed them into. Flames erupted. A jolt went through Steve, and suddenly Bucky was out of his arms and rolling his body across the lab like a careening car.
"Shit!" Steve was on his feet, stumbling through the doorway after his friend.
He watched in horror as Bucky pushed himself unsteadily onto his shackled feet, gave a wild-eyed look back at Steve, and launched himself toward the glass window in the hallway. Steve lunged after his friend but landed half a breath too late as Bucky dove through the glass and fell three stories to the ground below.
-0- -0- -0-
Bucky woke with a sickening, churning mass of terror in his gut. He tried to open his eyes, sending a stab of pain through his head. His wrist throbbed, hot agony snaking up into his elbow. His ankles pulsed with a dull ache, and the back of his skull felt like it was being repeatedly stabbed with a knife.
"Bucky?"
The sound sent more daggers through his skull. He heard a weak, pained moan and realized it was coming from his own throat.
"He's waking up."
"His heartrate is steady." A woman's voice. "Once we can assess his mental state, I can get him started in the cradle."
"I can assist." Another voice, female, young, accented. "We also have ways to repair bone and dull his pain without drugs."
"Bucky, can you open your eyes?" A familiar male voice.
It took him a moment to identify it. "Steve?" The name cracked from his dry throat, barely a whisper to own ears.
"Yeah." Relief infused that single word.
Bucky sucked in a breath. It made his back hurt. He opened his eyes and groaned against the assault of lights overhead. Steve's face leaned above, blocking most of the harsh light and bathing him in an almost otherworldly glow.
"Bucky, you're in Dr. Cho's lab," Steve said. "You're okay. There was an incident during the last session. You'll be okay. Everyone else is okay, too."
Bucky licked his dry lips and tried to break through the fog in his skull to remember. "What happened?" he croaked.
Everyone was okay. He hoped that meant he hadn't hurt anyone, and Steve was telling the whole truth, not covering it up to spare him.
"There was an unexpected activation of the Winter Soldier, but the restraints held," Steve told him.
Bucky tried to remember, but it was a blur, a hazy dream just out of reach. "I didn't hurt anybody?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath on each word.
"No," Steve leaned closer. "Just yourself. You did a solid number on yourself trying to get out of the restraints, but it's nothing that can't be patched up. We thought it best to wait until you regained consciousness before putting you in the regeneration cradle."
"Allow me," Shuri said.
Bucky blinked at the dark figure of the Wakandan princess as she moved next to Steve. She held a vaguely familiar disc in her hand. "This will completely numb your wrist." Bucky felt a cool touch to his throbbing wrist and gasped from the sudden pain, but it was fleeting. Then, blessed relief.
He breathed a sigh.
Another disc was placed on the side of skull, and the ache in his head vanished, but it felt like he was underwater. His thoughts were hazy and ephemeral. He couldn't focus.
At least the pain was gone, and he was floating in a warm sea of bliss.
"Now," he heard the young girl's voice as if from a distance, "if you will all get out of my way, I can repair his bones without the need for surgery or the cradle." There was silence for a moment, then. "I did this to him. Please allow me to fix it."
-0- -0- -0-
The next time Bucky woke, he was on something soft. He heard the soothing sound of a familiar melody. He opened his eyes. He was in a dimly lit room, on a bed. His bed. His room. In the Avenger's complex. He lifted his head and saw Steve on the recliner, tilted back, legs raised, eyes closed, breathing shallow.
Bucky had no idea what time or even day it was. He had a hazy memory of waking up, hearing Steve. Shuri talking to him. Pain.
His wrist. He looked down. His right arm was at his side. It looked normal. There were no visible injuries. It wasn't bandaged or in a brace. He flexed his fingers experimentally, then his wrist. When he didn't feel pain, he sat up, took stock of his condition. Everything felt normal. His head no longer ached. His vision was clear.
What the hell happened?
He closed his eyes and tried to remember. It was fuzzy. He went through a window. He remembered twisting, falling, and slamming hard into the ground.
"How are you feeling, Buck?"
Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve looking at him from the recliner, hitting the control on the side and bringing it upright to get to his feet. In a moment, he stood anxiously at the foot of the bed in sweats, socks, and a white-T shirt.
Bucky recognized the tune playing on the record player as a 1930s melody from Al Bowlly. He took a breath and swung his legs over the side of the mattress.
"I'm okay." His bladder wasn't, though. "I need to—" he waved in the general direction of the bathroom and pushed to his feet.
Steve put a steadying hand on Buck's bare left shoulder. The metal arm was still unattached, leaving a partial vibranium stump.
"I'm fine, really." Bucky offered a weak smile. He wanted to know what happened, but he also didn't.
He made his way to the toilet and emptied his screaming bladder, then washed his hand the best he could with only the one and looked at himself in the mirror. There was a hint of a cut on his temple, looking like something that almost healed.
He ran the faucet and splashed cool water on his face, then toweled off and padded back into the living area. The lights were slightly brighter, but still dim, and Steve was at the kitchen counter making cereal
"What happened exactly?" Bucky asked as he slid onto one of the bar stools.
Steve sighed and pushed a bowl of cheerios and a spoon in front of Bucky. "Doc said you should eat as soon as you wake up. This'll get you started, and I'll cook up some eggs." He set about with the eggs and a pan, then took a breath, glanced briefly over his shoulder at Bucky, and continued. "During the session, you went into a memory of being in the chair while someone read the activation sequence. Your brain locked into the memory and Shuri couldn't break you out of it. It activated the Winter Soldier for real and you broke your wrist trying to get out of the restraints. Long story, short, no one else got hurt, but you launched yourself through a window and slammed hard into the ground. Your head smacked the pavement. The fall itself wasn't too high. We both know you've had much worse, but with the shackles, you landed… awkwardly."
"Oh." Bucky took a few mouthfuls of the cereal. He hoped the sugar and carbs would help clear the fog from his memory. "I didn't hurt anybody?"
"You didn't hurt anyone but yourself," Steve reassured, giving him another glance as he moved the frying pan onto a cool burner.
Bucky took a deep breath, relieved. He quickly finished the cereal and drank the remaining milk. It felt good to have something in his stomach. A plate of scrambled eggs and a fork appeared in front of him. He dug in and glanced at the microwave clock. It read 4:02 a.m.
"Have the Wakandans left?"
Steve shook his head. "In a few hours, but Shuri is asking to speak to us before they depart. She's pretty broken up about what happened. She blames herself."
"She's just a kid. She's got some neat stuff and it's obvious she's smarter than probably all of us put together—except for maybe Stark and Dr. Cho. Maybe. But she's still a kid. I didn't want her to see…" He swallowed his voice trailing off as he thought about the woman Hydra had tortured and raped in front of him.
"I know," Steve said softly. He made another plate of eggs and grabbed a fork, eating them as he stood at the other side of the counter. "If there's a silver lining, it's that she thinks she has enough data to start working out an algorithm in Wakanda. She promised that, once she's got something, she'll get back in touch with us. Maybe a couple of months."
Months. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes against the swell of despair in his chest. He knew, logically, that it wouldn't be quick or easy getting the Hydra crap out of his head, but the thought of having to live months with the fear in his gut that anyone who spoke ten words could control him was almost too much. Far too many people already knew those damn words, and the Stark earpieces weren't a sure thing. Hydra had already gotten a heads up about them.
And what if Shuri never figured it out?
"Bucky, it'll be okay," Steve told him. "Shuri is confident she can help you. Doctors Cho and Abodon have spoken with her at length, and they're both optimistic, too."
Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve leaning on the counter, his face inches away, his brow furrowed with concern and his blue eyes filled with conviction. Steve was always so sure of what needed to be done and always stayed the course. Bucky wished he felt that kind of certainty.
"Those are going to be some long months," Bucky sighed. "If Hydra gets me, they'll look for the ear implants."
Steve took a breath. "Hydra won't get you. Natasha and Vision have scoped out the locations FRIDAY identified as possible Hydra hideouts. We got a positive hit on one. While we've been working with the Wakandans, the others are working on a plan to take out that splinter group." He reached across the island and put a firm hand on Bucky's shoulder. "And this facility is now the securest one in the entire nation thanks to your war games. You don't have to step foot outside the perimeter until you're free of the Winter Soldier programming."
Bucky tried to feel as optimistic as Steve sounded. He managed a smile. Steve made sense, and it wasn't like he had any other good choices, short of finding a cryo chamber and going back under. Maybe that would be for the best.
"What about just putting me back on ice until they figure out how to get this out of my head?" Bucky asked.
Steve didn't look happy about that suggestion. "Where?"
Bucky shrugged. "If Hydra had one decades ago, I'm sure Stark, Cho, or the Wakandans can make one. We can keep it here underground. You said it yourself. This is a secure facility."
Steve pursed his lips, then took a breath. "Exactly. You don't need to go into cryo. This room alone is a fortress, and the changes we've made in security—thanks to you—have made this entire complex and the surrounding grounds virtually impenetrable."
Bucky considered his options. The thought of going back into a cryogenic chamber terrified him. Coming out was always worse than going in, but going in was bad enough. It was death—over and over—a flash of pain, then oblivion. Part of him worried that, if he went into cryo again, it would take them so long to fix him that he could wake up a century from now, with everything he was just getting to know—and Steve—gone.
The alternative was living with the damn Hydra bomb in his brain—a no-win situation. Damned if he did, and damned if he didn't.
"Bucky, you have the entire Avengers team here, and me," Steve said. "Trust us."
That was the convincing Bucky needed. "Always, man." Bucky gave a crooked smile. "If you don't mind a slightly crazy freeloader hanging out in this basement room for a few more months, okay. No cryo. It's not something I hope to ever have to do again, but if it comes down to it, I'd rather face going under again than hurting you or anyone else who isn't a Hydra asshole."
Steve's shoulder's relaxed visibly. He stared at his empty plate for several seconds, and when he finally looked up, it was with a soft smile. "Look, Buck, I know we're a far cry from the old streets of Brooklyn, and things are… difficult and complicated. Neither of us are the same guys we were back then, and the end of the world might be around the corner, but there's no one else I'd rather face it with than you."
Bucky leaned back and studied his friend. It wasn't often that Steve poured his heart out. He rarely had to. They'd known each other for so long, Bucky almost always knew what Steve was thinking.
"I'm glad that you ended up here with me in this crazy time," Steve continued, eyeing him uncertainly. "I told Natasha and Sam, after I saw you that day in the middle of the street, that I had you even when I had nothing. You've always been there for me. Somehow, I woke up in this strange world all alone, and now you're here too. I feel guilty as hell because it's only a result of the torture Hydra put you through that you're here, but I'm still glad that you are."
Damnit, Steve. Bucky's throat tightened. The humble, almost shy look in the other man's eyes reminded him so much of that small Brooklyn kid that, even though Steve hit like a bus now and easily matched him in speed and strength, Bucky felt the protective streak that had driven him to chase the bullies away and follow Steve into the jaws of death.
Bucky got up from the stool, and with a tilt of his head, reached out and pulled Steve into a firm hug. "I'm glad, too, pal."
Author Note:
The road to recovery is a bumpy one for Bucky. Thanks to Fictitious again for beta reading despite a busy schedule lately!
Just in case: the chapter title spelling is intentional :)
As always, I *LOVE* reading your reviews, so if you're so inclined, drop a line or two. Heck, or three or four. Whatever floats your boat!
