May 1st, 2014. San Francisco, California
Everything hurt. Even his eyelashes felt as if they were on fire as his eyes fluttered open. Around him, numerous voices shouted jangled orders, bodies running here there and everywhere. Instantly, his thoughts flickered to Steve, once again thanking the heavens that he had been rejected from the army so he'd never have to be in this kind of pain.
"Barnes! You okay?" a voice called from beside him.
Groaning, he forced his head round to look over at the burly American next to him. He tried to raise his arm and give a thumbs up, but his body refused to listen. Instead he simply grimaced.
"Not really, but I'm not dead so that's a start."
The American grinned broadly despite the blood running down his face from the cut on his forehead. He crawled over to the younger man and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Atta boy Barnes."
He jerked awake, surprised he'd slept long enough to actually dream. Up until now, he'd mostly dozed, the memories coming to him in dribs and drabs, but none clear enough for him to grasp finer details such as dates or names. He flicked on his lamp, reaching out for the notebook that had become his lifeline to his mind. He'd split it into two halves, his memories before HYDRA and the ones during. In two weeks, he'd filled ten pages of the latter and only half a page of the former. Typically, it seemed the worst memories were coming back first, though there were the occasional ones of Beth and Steve that popped in every now and then that he was more than happy to note. Things such as Steve laughing with him, and the fact Beth always smelt like vanilla. They were a comfort to him.
The other memories? Not so much. Blood, screams her was certain were his own, and multiple deaths he'd caused plagued him night and day. He wrote them all down, even if he had no idea if they were real or simply his brain trying to reset. The letter he had written years ago to Beth now sat in a small pouch he'd created in the back cover, the paper beginning to tear from the amount he read it, confirming he wasn't always the monster HYDRA turned him into.
He found his mind drifting, thinking of the woman who looked at him with a devotion he didn't feel he deserved. He wondered where she was now, whether she was keeping herself safe. If the things he remembered and had seen from her and her brother gave him anything to go by, he doubted it. The memories may be fleeting, but one thing he had managed to establish was that the siblings seemed to have a knack for trouble. He couldn't help but wonder how he'd fitted him. Had he too been a magnet, or was he the one trying to keep them out of trouble? For all he knew, he could have been the instigator. One thing he did know was that he wanted to remember more from the good times. If nothing else, he wanted to remember her, the woman who caused his heart to spark even as the darkness that was HYDRA hung over him, trying to drag him back every time he closed his eyes. Fortunately, she was always there, ready to stave off the bad.
/
"Those assholes give you a rough time again?"
Her eyes were red, signs of tears still lingering on her face as she looked up at him with a weak smile. Even then, she was stunning, her eyes shining in the sunshine, matching the sky above. It was no wonder his heart threatened to jump from his chest whenever she smiled at him.
"It's nothing I can't handle. I just get fed up of them putting me down whenever I surpass them is all. It just means next time I have to blow them even further in the dust."
His arms wrapped so effortlessly round her waist, pulling her to rest against him. She sank into his embrace, her warmth enveloping his chest.
"That's my girl."
/
The routine continued for the next two weeks, fits of sleep mixed with jumbled dreams he could barley make sense of. He wrote it all, and eventually, some of the pieces began to fit, even make sense to his addled brain.
It was only a matter of time until his memory unlocked the worst one of all.
/
It was rare they let him out. Apparently, he was too volatile to trust, too prone to caving in their heads. He couldn't remember doing it, but he heard their whispers, felt their fear in the air.
Today was different. Today, not only had they fed him a meal that wasn't unpleasant, they had even allowed him to shower before they'd strapped the muzzle across his face.
"Солдат, ваша миссия сегодня - помочь нам покорить заключенного. Она оказывается особенно ... трудной. Вы должны помочь нам сломать ее, любым необходимым способом." *Your mission today, Soldier, is to help us subdue a prisoner. She is proving particularly...difficult. You are to help us break her, any way necessary.*
They led him into a room he knew all too well, the clanking and whirring of the machines enough to make a shudder slither down his back. The screams echoing around them were blissfully not his own, but belonged to a petite woman, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants as she slumped in her seat. They released her shackles, the men sneering as they caught sight of him. One in particular, a short, plump man wearing spectacles, rubbed his hand with glee and waved him over.
"Will you do as you're told now?" he asked the woman.
She responded with a well-aimed globule of spit in his face. The smile was wiped away, the soldier summoned closer as the other man began to sneer.
"Very well. You made your choice. I have made mine."
It took a moment for the soldier to realise what was expected of him, until the other agents in the room stood her up and began to tie her to a post, tearing at her clothes like animals. When the order came to subdue her, he was hesitant, unsure of his purpose. Until he caught her scent through the mask, his body instantly reacting like a teenage boy. And then he was on her, ignoring her please and screams tearing from her throat. He couldn't stop himself, the feel of her too much to withstand. Growling, he grasped her shoulder and turned her body so he could see her face. She was the most beautiful thing he'd seen, even with the terror in her eyes and tears tracking her face. There was hatred there too as she tried to search past his mask into his soul, her eyes a bright blue he was sure would haunt his dreams. When he finished, he was parted from her far too soon for his tastes, her body slumping to the floor helplessly as he was marched back to his prison.
/
"No, no, no, nonononono!" He roared, jumping to his feet as adrenaline surged through him.
His hand thrust into his hair as he began pacing in the tiny space he was renting. There was no way in hell that was real. It couldn't be. The only explanation was that his mind was playing tricks on him, replacing the face of a nameless woman with Beth's. He would never, not in a million years, hurt her like that. Not his Bethie.
A smash drew his attention only slightly, cursing when he realised, he'd lashed out, his metallic arm now poking through to the kitchenette through the wall. The plaster crumbled to his feet as he corrected his mistake, but the anger still seethed. He didn't trust his head, not on this one. He had to know, had to be certain, and there was only one way he could do that.
He had to speak to Beth.