It didn't take long to travel to the coast, but the difference from the city was alarming. The temperature became colder and colder with every new day until Steve could almost travel the whole day—barring noon when it still became burning hot. By the time Steve reached the beach, even that wasn't enough to deter the cold from seeping into his bones and freezing the ground beneath his feet.
Steve drew the heavy coat he had bought at the market around his shoulders, trembling with the cold he was unused to. The beach crunched under his feet as he made his way to the water, leaving broken shards of frozen sand in his footsteps. Steve sighed tiredly, peering up at the sky. It had to be at least one by now, if not later, and it was still freezing cold.
It's unnatural, he thought as he stepped around a large white rock, Why would it suddenly become so cold?
Steve cried out as his foot caught against something hard and he was sent head over heels into the frozen sand. He came up spluttering and coughing, spitting sand out of his mouth and rubbing his eyes unhappily. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, a low sound of fear escaping him as he saw the full beach spread out before him for the first time.
Everything was frozen. Waves arched dramatically in their final descent, frozen in time. Chunks of ice stuck out randomly from the water and dotted the beaches like huge white stones. It was one such stone he had tripped over.
Carefully pushing himself up, Steve stepped up to the water's edge. It seemed solid enough, and he carefully tested it with one foot, listening for any sign it might give way beneath him. It held, and he stepped onto the frozen water carefully. Walking out onto the ice, he peered out into the distance. It didn't seem to end, and once the waves faded it was a simple expanse of frozen water. Steve made his way out on the ice, testing each step carefully before moving forwards.
He walked until he couldn't see the beach anymore, and still there seemed to be no end to the ice. Curiously, he bent down and put down his pack, squinting at the ice and trying to see how far down it went. He wiped at it, trying to clear away some of the fog, though only succeeding at steaming it up more with his breath. If he moved his head just so, he could see fish shaped shadows down there and what looked like coral, though he couldn't see it very well. A chill ran down his spine. None of the fish were moving, they all stayed in place as if held by an invisible hand. Steve was no expert on water life, but he was pretty sure fish were supposed to move in water.
Pain exploded in the side of Steve's head. He cried out as he was sent sprawling against the ice. A boot landed next to his head and an icy hand slammed over Steve's mouth. Steve scratched at the attacker's hand, panic blooming in his chest as his hands met metal. He reached up and tried to scratch at his attackers face, his nails scraping lightly against the man's cheek before it was knocked away. The man wrapped his arm around Steve's arms and torso, effectively pinning him against his attackers body. Steve gave a muffled cry, struggling against the man's powerful grip. The man grunted in pain as one of Steve's bony elbows clipped his ribs and his grip weakened. Steve twisted, and the man dropped him, sending him tumbling on to the ground. The man was on top of him in moments, keeping him pinned there. Steve gave a choked cry as a cold hand pressed against his neck, choking him just enough to cut off the blood flow to his brain. He struggled to stay conscious as his thrashing became less and less aggressive and his vision began to darken. His last coherent thought was that the fisherman had been right, and that the metal arm pinning him to the ground gave testament to that. The Winter Soldier was real.
The first thing that registered in Steve's mind was the smell of burning wood. He yawned sleepily. He hadn't smelled that in so long, not since…since he had first met Natasha. Steve opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see her, but was instead met with the dark, bug eyes of a face mask.
"Who—" Steve croaked but broke off in a fit of coughing. His throat was burning, and the coughing just agitated it more. The man leaned forwards and pressed a bottle of water to his lips gently, the lenses of his goggles dancing with the flames from the fire. Steve drank thirstily and the man obligingly tipped the bottle upwards. It was too much. Steve choked as water slid down the side of his mouth. Frantically, he tried to wave his hand to say he was done, but found he couldn't move his hands. Steve made a panicked sound, turning his head weakly to the side. The bottle vanished as the man drew back. Steve took a relieved breath, trying weakly to lift his head. He glared up at his attacker as he tried to move his limbs. It took effort, but he was able to push himself up against the wall. The blanket covering him fell down and Steve gasped as he suddenly registered how cold it was.
The man scooted forwards on his knees and held a small plate out to Steve. Steve's plate. The bastard must have gone through his pack. Steve glanced down at the bottle and winced as he realized it was one of the ones Natasha had given him.
Steve's attacker made a frustrated sound and held the plate out again. On it was a piece of fish that, from the slightly blackened look of it, was cooked well. It smelled much better than the nutrient bars Steve had been raised on. He wanted to rip it from the man's hand and devour it, but he settled for flopping his weak hands at his lap and letting the man put it down there.
"Why can't I move?" Steve asked quietly as he tried to pick up a piece of the fish. His eyes narrowed as the fish dropped from his limp fingers back onto the plate. The man hesitated before he slowly reached forwards and touched Steve's neck. Pain rocketed through Steve's body and he gasped as he writhed against the wall in agony. The pain vanished and Steve flexed his hand grinning in relief as he realized he could move again. His eyes slid to the man who was holding the plate of fish. He must have rescued it before Steve had dumped it onto the floor. Steve smiled slowly at him and the man tensed even more before carefully holding the plate of fish out to him. Steve darted to his feet, sending the fish flying as he ran for the light. Something heavy crashed into him and Steve grunted as he tumbled to the floor. His hand landed in the fire and he cried out in agony as he yanked it from the coals, sending them scattering across the floor. Steve thrashed away from his attacker, only managing to get to his knees before a crushing weight landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him and shoving him against the ground.
His attacker rested a knee on the center of his back, keeping him in place as he quickly bound Steve's legs with rope (also from Steve's pack). He carefully avoided Steve's injured hand as he hauled him to his feet and put him down in his former place where a fur blanket was laid out on the ground.
"Let me go!" Steve growled as the man cleaned up the fish and began to push the embers back into place on the cave floor with his metal hand.
Steve gasped as he saw frost begin to close over the place the coals had been. That didn't happen in the desert. He glanced around and his jaw dropped. He had been too busy with his attacker to see his surroundings before, but now he saw them for what they really were. They were in an ice cave, something Steve had only heard of in stories. He looked outside the cave entrance, squinting at the shadows on the horizon. They were mountains, huge and towering over the small cave they were in, and covered with more snow than Steve could ever dream of.
"Where are we?" He asked, glancing at his attacker. The man was slowly nursing the fire back to life with logs from the back of the cave.
The man glanced at him before going to Steve's backpack. He rifled through it for a moment before pulling out Steve's map from the very bottom. He walked back over to Steve and rolled it out on the icy ground, pointing to a spot outlined in the dark red that signified a nuclear cold area. Steve's eyes widened as he glanced back outside at the mountain "But that's a five day journey from the ocean!" He protested, "How long have I been sleeping?"
The man ignored him and stood, throwing the map on the fire and then adding wood until the small flames became a roaring fire. Steve whimpered as the heat touched his burned hand and the man's head snapped in his direction, the lenses of his glasses reflecting the flickering flames.
"There's some burn medicine in my bag," Steve turned his face away from the flames, "could you…" The man nodded and walked over to Steve's pack, pulling the medicine out from one of the pockets. He held out his hand to Steve and for a moment Steve was hesitant. The man's hand was metal, and even now Steve could clearly see the red star on his shoulder. Was he sure he could trust him? If the stories were true this man had killed countless numbers of people.
The man huffed impatiently and seized Steve's arm. Steve hissed as he pressed a delicate finger against the burn mark. It was painful, but it wasn't the worst burn Steve had ever had, he lived in the desert after all. His hand was red and puffy, and blisters were already breaking out across the skin like pockmarks. The man bent down over his hand and began applying the burn medication, his cold metal fingers doing wonders to the burning heat of Steve's hand. When he got to Steve's forearm, he reached up with his flesh and bone hand and traced the space where the letters on Steve's arm had been. They had been covered up by the burn and their outline was barely visible. Steve gasped in pain at his delicate touch and the man stiffened as he jerked his hand away. He hurriedly grabbed the container and scooped some of the green goop onto his fingers, quickly grasping Steve's arm and smearing it across the rest of the burned area. Steve leaned back, distracting himself from the pain by looking at the man's metal arm. It was his left, and there were no letters on it, no marks, simply strips of silver metal.
Steve felt horror well up within him. This man would never know his soul mate, never have the marks on his arm turn gold to confirm what he suspected to be true. Steve could think of no worse horror. Though he hadn't met his soulmate, the letters were still on his arm, and had been for his whole life, which meant his soul mate was alive and there was still the chance of meeting him. It was exciting knowing there was someone out there with Steve's initials on his arm waiting to meet him, someone who wouldn't be disappointed with how he looked, or mind the burden he could be when he was sick.
Steve glanced down at his own marks, now rendered unintelligible. They would heal, and the marks would be there again. He would just have to hope he didn't meet whoever the initials J.B.B belonged to before they did.
The man began to bind his hand with gauze from Steve's pack, careful to avoid touching the injured area. Steve sighed in relief as the pain abated some. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed the unmarked part of the man's arm. The man froze and Steve drew his hand back quickly. Slowly, the man reached out with his metal hand and took Steve's left hand, touching his fingers to the bindings. "J.B.B." Steve offered and the man raised his head to look at Steve. "Do you know yours?"
The man shook his head as he stood and walked to the cave opening. Steve didn't know if that meant he didn't know, or it didn't matter. If the man truly was the Winter Soldier, it could be possible his soulmate had died during the war, or while he had been frozen.
Steve sighed as he leaned forwards to peer past the soldier into the icy gloom outside. It was starting to snow heavily, and Steve hoped they had enough firewood to last the night. Sometimes, if one was lucky, they could find trees at the edges of the cold zones. They were never big ones, but they were big enough to provide firewood if one knew how to harvest the wood right. The man must have gotten some when they began traveling into the cold zone.
Steve tensed as the man turned away from the falling snow and began to approach him. He curled his hands ito fists, ready to fight if need be, though he knew it was hopeless. He wasn't big enough to fight him off if the man decided to kill him, and his legs were bound, making the odds even worse.
The man stopped short of Steve and bent down, pulling Steve's bag towards him. He reached inside, shuffling around a bit before a frustrated sound escaped him and he yanked the bag open. Steve craned his neck to see what he was looking for, relaxing as the man pulled a nutrient bar from the very bottom. The man stood, unwrapping it quickly and handing it to Steve. By now, Steve was beginning to alter his first impression of the man. He was fast and deadly, Steve had experienced that first hand, but he didn't seem to want to harm him.
"Sorry about the fish," Steve said quietly as he bit into the gooey bar. The man hesitated before he sat down next to Steve. He shrugged, as if to say it didn't matter. Steve sighed as he finished his nutrient bar off regretfully. They didn't taste good, but they were food and Steve was still hungry. He eyed the bar the man was holding warily, it wasn't one of his. Instead of being a dark purple it was a mottled brown and looked even more unappetizing than his own. The man kept the nutrient bar clasped in his hand, though he seemed not to want to remove his mask to eat it.
"What's your name?" Steve asked, and when the man didn't reply Steve wiggled forwards so he was facing him. He gestured to his tied legs beseechingly. "Where would I go?" He asked. The man hesitated, and for a moment Steve didn't think he was going to do it. Ever so slowly, the man reached out, untying the rope and letting it fall to the ground. Steve crossed his legs under him, ready to run if it looked like the man was going to hurt him. The man shifted uncomfortably, peering down at the nutrient bar in his hand. Steve took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and reached out slowly, his hand brushing against the man's soft hair as he searched for the clasp to his goggles. His fingers hit something hard and he touched a button, pressing hard until the goggles loosened. The man didn't move as they came free. Steve smiled and slowly undid the mask, pulling it away to reveal the man's face.
He was beautiful. Steve's fingers itched to draw him. His rounded features were accented with high cheekbones, his lips thin but a pretty shade of red. What stood out most were his eyes. They were a light blue that oddly offset the rest of his features.
"What's your name?" Steve asked.
"Bucky," the man whispered. His voice was harsh; he had to clear his throat a few more times before he could speak again, this time with more strength. "My name is Bucky."
Steve smiled, "I'm Steve."
Bucky's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
"Why did you kidnap me?" Steve asked.
Bucky looked at him quizzically. "Kidnap you?" Steve nodded, hoping to god Bucky didn't freak out or try to kill him. Bucky frowned, but then nodded slowly in understanding. "I thought you were Hydra," he said, clearing his throat once before he continued, "and I couldn't leave you there unconscious in the cold. Hydra could find you, and then they would know I had been there."
Hydra? Steve frowned. Everyone knew Hydra was dead. This guy was crazy. Unless he's the Winter Soldier, nagged a voice in the back of Steve's mind, then it wouldn't be so crazy. Steve shook his head, banishing the voice. "Why did you keep me from running?"
Bucky's eyes narrowed, "There are drones out there right now looking for me. They would have seen you. They might already know you're with me. I'll escort you to the nearest city and leave you there, where it's safe." His eyes narrowed, "And if you tell anyone about me..."
Steve nodded firmly, "It's a deal."
Bucky stood and walked back to the cave entrance, staring out into the blizzard. "Good." He said, "I would hate to have to kill you."