Bucky saw only flickers of what was happening. The inside of the lab, Steve's face on a different person's body, a red-faced devil, an inferno, free falling off a tower, crashing into metal earth. The scenes wouldn't fit together. The time between them was slipping like sand through his fingers. He could only hold it together for a few moments at a time before the blackness overtook him, his body carrying on without his mind to drive it.

The only constant was the discomfort. His back felt stiff as steel. His heart ricocheted so hard inside his chest that there had to be bruises under his sternum. There was fire inside his lungs, boiling water in his head. His legs alternated between wood and jelly. Something in the middle of him kept cramping.

It was constant pain, but it was all he had to latch on to. The only thing there was to focus on until he heard Dum Dum's voice from across an ocean. Bucky dragged himself off the shoulder of the creature with Steve's face and staggered toward his corporal. Dum Dum looked like himself and sounded like himself. Hell, he fucking smelled like he was supposed to. The relief that familiarity brought him took his knees out and unhooked him from reality for a few seconds.

There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that Dum Dum would catch him.

The sounds of war around him were too loud. Everything was too bright when he opened his eyes. The burning building was too hot. Why was the environment so much? Why did everything feel like it was ten times more intense than it ever had been? Why'd it send spikes into his skull? Bucky could swear that he could feel the turn of the Earth beneath his feet, and it was making him sick. The sludge in his stomach cramped again.

"Starting to attract some attention, gents," a voice Bucky knew said. Monty?

"Gimme a hand, Gabe," Dum Dum said from somewhere far away. "He's in a bad way."

"Jeez, he's hot as a furnace," came Gabe's voice.

Bucky jerked away from hands that plucked at his arms.

Dum Dum said, "It's just Gabe, Sarge. S'OK. He's gonna help get you somewhere quiet where you can lie down. How's that sound? Away from all these people."

Bucky didn't remember how he responded or if he responded at all. He dimly registered that he was being carried somewhere. A voice that sounded an awful lot like Steve's was buzzing around the fringes of Bucky's awareness. There was something frantic in the tone even though he couldn't make out any of the words that were being said. He didn't like the tone. Made his stomach clench and something very much like worry crawl under his skin. He turned toward where it sounded like it was coming from. Tried to think of something he could do to assuage it.

Steve's voice: "Hey, stop. What is that?"

It was distressing, realising that he didn't know what to do to stop Steve sounding like that.

"This guy bothering you, Sarge?" said Gabe's voice from mere millimetres away.

"Only for my entire life."

There was laughing nearby. Dum Dum saying something overhead. Monty speaking loudly. Steve and that frantic note in his voice faded away. It didn't entirely kill the feeling inside of Bucky that was telling him he should be doing something about…something.

"Monty's taking care of it. Relax now, Sarge, we've gotcha."

So he did. Came back to himself to realise that he was now lying prone on what felt like a gravel road. It was blessedly quieter here. There was no crackle of fire that sounded like a million bones splintering directly into his ears. Vision wasn't so bright and blurry around the edges. But his spine might as well have been made of iron; it was damn uncomfortable.

Bucky rolled to try to get the pressure off of his back but didn't get much farther than his side. A pair of hands held him firmly down. Kicked his heart into high gear.

But then Gabe's voice brought him back down: "Woah. We just got you down."

Bucky looked at Gabe through squinted eyes. Maybe he took it back about things not being as bright now. "Back hurts."

The crushing blackness overtook him again, even though he felt cold hands start to prod at his lumbar.

"Son of a bitch!" That was Dum Dum?

Then nothing again.

Pulling at his collar. Someone thinking they were sneaky pushing up his sleeves. He was able to make his hands cooperate and slap away the loose grip that tried to latch on to the bottom of his sweater. Tried to tell them off but was sure nothing coherent came out.

"OK, OK! I'll leave you alone."

Blackness then. It didn't lift until Steve's voice was back.

"…room on one of the trucks for him," Steve's voice said.

Bucky's brows pulled together. He rocked his head on the ground – where'd the gravel go? – to try to make the thoughts come together.

"'M fine," he managed. "Where we goin'?" Getting his arms under him, Bucky pushed himself up as far as he could before too many sets of hands stopped him. Had to concentrate with a focus he didn't have to spare so that his lungs could keep up with the demand from his heart.

Steve said, "Do not even try to sit up."

"Huh?"

He couldn't keep up. Black nothingness again.

"…want him to move until a medic gets a good look at him." That was Steve's voice again. He sounded so…authoritative?

"No medic," Bucky said.

A hand pressed lightly into his shoulder. A warning. A reminder. Stay down.

Someone else was saying, "You could fry an egg with the heat comin' off of him, but no one can do anything about that out here."

"No medic." He hoped he was imagining the desperation in his own voice.

Another voice: "Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else. It's upsetting him."

Something hot surged through Bucky's veins. "Stop talking about me like I can't hear you."

Steve said, "OK. OK, Buck, just stay—"

"Don't tell me to stay calm!" He shed the hand holding him down like it was nothing. Shrugged off the others, scrambled to his feet and put a few steps between himself and the others. "I can hear you talking about me, and I'm fine. I don't need a medic!"

"OK, Buck, relax!" Steve took a step forward. Bucky matched it with a step back. Steve held his hands up.

"Sorry, Jimmy, we're just worried you're gonna keel over and die right before our eyes," Dum Dum said.

The volume was being turned up on the surroundings. Bucky could hear the rushing of air in his lungs, and the thud of his heart beat was making his whole body vibrate.

Steve rolled his eyes. "He's just not used to being the one who's unwell. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Shut up, Steve," he snapped back.

"Who are you?" said Dum Dum.

Gabe said, "Sarge, do you know Captain America?"

"Captain who?" said Bucky. There were too many people speaking now. His head was going to split down the middle soon.

"Steve, did you say?" That was Monty.

"From the stories?" said a French-accented voice.

"Steve as in Steve Rogers?"

"You know my name?"

"No fucking way this is Steve From Back Home!"

"What?"

"You said he was Hobbit-sized."

"You said what!"

"I mean, it was all nice things."

"Just mentioned that you were, uh, small in stature."

"What!"

"What the hell, Jimmy, why'd you lie about Steve From Back Home being all small and sick?"

Bucky vaguely acknowledged that he was panting. The brightness around the edges of his vision were dimming, thankfully. "I have no idea what's going on."

"On your toes, everybody," Monty said. "He's seconds away from passing out again.

Bucky took another step away from them all. "I am not!"

Maybe he was.

"Fine," Steve said in a hard tone. Stared directly into Bucky's watering eyes. "If you don't need a medic, what do you need?"

"I need everyone to shut up for a minute and not to pick at me the second I close my eyes!" He was panting from the effort of making this point and standing upright at the same time.

The guys had the decency to look a little ashamed, so maybe his point at least was made.

Gabe shrugged and said, "That's reasonable."

Steve wasn't looking away though. "Fine, but only if you stay sitting until we leave. And eat and drink something without throwing it up."

Bucky didn't back away from the staring contest even though things were getting blurry and shimmering. "Only if you back off on me riding in some fucking truck for the wounded."

"Fine," Steve spat with his eyes narrowed. "Fine. When you pass out ten minutes into the march, you're in the truck the rest of the way."

"If I pass out, fine, but I'm not going to."

Monty muttered, "Good grief, they do know each other, don't they?"

"Go back on any of these and you're going directly to a medic," challenged Steve.

Bucky shook his head. "I'm not going to break them. If you go back on it, I'm never going to forgive you."

Steve scoffed. "What, that's all?"

And then it suddenly occurred to him: "What are you wearing?"

"Don't worry about it." There was some colour rising in Steve's face.

"No. Hang on." Bucky shuffled closer. "I want to re-do the terms. What is this?"

"Too late. No take-backs."

"You son of a bitch," Bucky breathed.

Steve picked up a leather jacket from the ground. "Don't worry about it. You have some water to go puke up."

"Close your mouth, Sarge, you look like a fish," Gabe said lowly from beside him.

"Let's go," Dum Dum said while slapping a hand on Bucky's back and guiding him, presumably, in the direction of food and water. "He bested you this time, but it's alright. We know you're not at the top of your game right now."

"I'm fine," Bucky said stubbornly. Directed the words over his shoulder, in Steve's direction. All the same, he let himself be led away. Definitely, purposefully let Gabe support one of his sides. Not that he needed it.

"Sure you are," Dum Dum said.

"Gotta stop treating me like that," he mumbled.

Gabe smiled. "Sorry. It's just that you look so pathetic."

"Thanks, Gabe."

They made steady progress across the grounds. Bucky tried to look around and figure out what the fuck had happened. There were a few ash-stained crates strewn about with a few guys adding more to the pile. There were groups of soldiers walking around and collecting debris. HYDRA weapons were being stacked and sorted; same with the ammunition. Vehicles being dismantled in one place, their parts being tossed into the still-burning factory. Other vehicles were being driven and parked in formation beside the destroyed gate. Fuel supplies were kept far away from the fire. The bodies of HYDRA soldiers were lined up beside a temporary-looking building, much like the one Bucky remembered Steve using as their landing pad after sliding down the side of the fucking building. The bodies were stripped of most of their clothes and gear. Soldiers of mixed nationality were taking inventory.

So many of these people were smiling. Their laughter and shouting seemed to echo around the grounds and drown him.

"Where's the food supply?" Bucky asked and forced his eyes onto his boots.

"Just this way," said Dum Dum. He was gesturing to a clump of people under a canvas tent. Looked like it had been scavenged off the back of a transport vehicle.

Bucky's feet stopped working when he noticed the high concentration of guys with red cross armbands around the canvas cover. A few of them were staring at their approach. Gabe was the only thing that kept him from taking a header into the dirt.

"OK?" said Gabe.

"Uh." Bucky tried to avoid looking at the medics.

Dum Dum caught on. "Hey, I'll grab a canteen and rustle up a few rations. You're supposed to be sitting, Sarge. I'll meet you guys at the seats." He gestured to a collection of truck seats that had presumably been pulled out of one of the disassembled vehicles.

"Great," said Gabe.

Dum Dum jogged away, and Bucky let Gabe help him sit.

"You all there?" Gabe said

Bucky nodded. Ignored how loud Gabe sounded and how everyone else's laughter was competing with his voice. "What the fuck happened? How'd you guys get out?"

It was easier to focus once Gabe got talking. The other sounds fell away. Gabe told him how Captain America (Jesus Christ, what the actual fuck was that) had knocked out the guards on duty and broke them out of their cells. He didn't wait for anyone to give him intel on the factory, and he didn't explain anything to the prisoners.

"He just asked where you were, barely got an answer from Monty, and then he just took off. Didn't tell us anything else. Dum Dum was kinda suspicious about why he wanted you so bad. We decided that we'd come back for ya — drive the tank through the walls if we had to — after we had a way out."

Bucky snorted. "Good to know you didn't forget about me."

"Please. Like Dum Dum would ever let us." Gabe clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave him a deeper look. "Jacques had just heard from one of the guys on the floor that you were still alive in there. We were literally trying to plan something to help you when Cap showed up. I'm sorry that we weren't able to get to you sooner."

There wasn't one thing he could think of to say to that.

Gabe went on, "The guy said you were in really bad shape. That you'd probably be dead."

"Feel like I should be dead," Bucky said. Rubbed at his eyes when things were getting bright and shimmery again.

"Gonna tell us what happened in there?" Dum Dum said. He was handing out the rations.

Bucky accepted a canteen and a heel of Jerry's bread from his corporal. "Thanks," he said. The thought of eating made his stomach cramp and his jaw ache. He slugged some water instead.

"I don't know," he said. "They'd inject me with something." He gave them a sharp glare. "I'm sure you saw the marks when you were feeling me up while I was asleep. Afterward I'd feel useless for hours. Couldn't move. Couldn't think. Made me feel like every single piece of me was on fire."

"What were they doing?" said Gabe. "Was it an interrogation?"

Bucky shrugged. "Can't remember that well. I don't think he asked me any questions."

"He?"

"Small guy who came to the cage. Zola."

Dum Dum hummed darkly. His tell for holding back some vulgar thoughts, Bucky knew.

"He made the pneumonia go away in a few days. It was incredible, terrifying. Felt so weird. They'd shoot me up and then everything felt like it was moving at five times the normal speed for hours. Still felt like shit, but I could breathe for a while. It was like the beating from Lohmer never happened. Then they really started fucking with me."

"Jesus," Dum Dum said.

"Kept sticking me with stuff. Felt like they biopsied every organ that I have. My fucking bones were hurting."

A commotion from the tent made Bucky look up. Some guy was making a break for it directly at him. Every muscle in his body tensed until it was painful, heart beat skyrocketed — he felt himself getting ready for a fight. Then his whole body locked up.

"It's you!" the guy said, feet away. He advanced right up to Bucky, gripped his shoulders. "You're alive. You're alive. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, I'm so sorry." He was sobbing. Bucky tried to break the guy's grip, but his own hands were shaking too much.

"Cut it out, man," Bucky said. "Get off of me."

He finally let go of Bucky's shoulders but put a death grip on his left hand. "Forgive me. Please, God, forgive me!"

A fist came out of nowhere, smacking the guy square on the ear. He fell sideways, released his grip. Dum Dum grabbed one of the guy's arms — one adorned with a medic's armband — and dragged him several meters away.

"We're gonna need a medic for this medic," Gabe said.

"Get him the fuck outta here," he said. He glared toward the canvas tent and all the people over there who were just staring. He shouted, "Keep your damn distance, and give the man room to breathe!"

He muttered darkly and took his seat again.

Gabe looked at Bucky with this eyebrows raised. "What was that about?"

Bucky shook his head. "I don't know. Honestly."

Within an hour, he did know. It crashed into him while he sat there with a mouthful of stale German bread. It turned into thick paste on his tongue, and it took everything not to spit it out. Bucky forced himself to swallow the bread and then got to his feet.

"You're supposed to stay sitting until we leave," Gabe reminded him. Dum Dum had wandered off to oversee the packing of the trucks by this point.

Bucky looked at Gabe and said, "Gotta take a piss."

The private frowned at him, a doubtful look on his face. "Can you manage that?"

"What, are you offering to hold it for me?"

Gabe waved a hand. "Pfft, man, just go. Sorry I asked."

Bucky walked as steadily as he could toward the treeline. The memory was nipping at his consciousness, and he didn't want an audience when it inevitably overtook him. He kept walking as the scenes flickered behind his eyes.

There were burns on his temples. Nothing made sense. But the doctor said that he'd suffered an accident. Everything would be alright as long as he let them help.

He stumbled into the trunk of a narrow tree.

Someone led him to a place they said was his. Put a black-handled knife in his hands. They said, "Cut yourself, Sergeant. From here to here."

"Why?"

Pushed off that tree and made it a few more steps before he fell onto hands and knees. Gripped fistfuls of damp earth.

"A lot of people will be hurt if you don't. Don't you want to save us?"

"Yes?"

"Cut from here to here. It's OK."

"But—"

"Do it, Sergeant. Trust me. You have to do what the doctor says, right?"

"Right. But you're not the doc—"

"This is what's best for everyone."

"I—"

"Do it, Sergeant!"

He did.

The bread and the water came back up. Bucky retched again and again. Bile and something red to add to the pile. He sat back, away from the puddle of vomit, before his arms could give out on him. Leaned back into the trunk of a tree. Shaking back the sleeve of his sweater, Bucky stared at his left arm. No cuts. No scars. Nothing but the dirt, sweat, bruises, and needle marks.

Was that a memory? Had he imagined it? Did they put it in his head? They kept saying things to him, lying and messing with his thoughts.

The ache in his bones pulsed and wouldn't let his legs respond when he told them to unfold and stand.

"OK. Then I'll get up in a minute." He breathed out forcefully. Ignored the vomit on his breath. "Just one minute."

Blackness.

Someone was walking through the trees nearby. Bucky came back to himself, eyes already open, and watched. Took this person maybe a minute to come upon him. They stopped and stared from the bloody vomit pile to Bucky slumped against the tree.

"You're Barnes?" he said.

Bucky looked away from this stranger for a second and then nodded. "Call me Bucky."

He was staring with some inscrutable look on his face. Finally spoke: "Coupla guys are looking for you."

"Yeah. I was just about to head back."

The guy arched a doubtful eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Bucky said with no intention of making himself stand just yet.

The guy stood there for an awkward moment, not sure where to look. He eventually said, "Need a hand?"

"Think I might actually."

He came forward, and Bucky stretched a hand out. For sort of a small guy, he didn't struggle to pull Bucky to his feet. He even hovered a hand close by when Bucky swayed.

"Alright?"

"Yeah. Thanks…"

"Jim Morita."

"Appreciate it if you didn't mention this" — he nodded to his own puke — "to the others. I made a bet."

"Mention what?" said Jim.

Bucky hung his head and breathed a little easier. "Thanks, Jim."

"It's no problem, Bucky."