AN: Sooooo, i just learned that uptalk is a thing...
Val's ? is her speaking in questions. She's either confused, completely unsure or sarcastic as fuck.
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Chapter 9: Bucky Barnes - Smoke Twisted Memories
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"STEVE! Steve!? Please…. Please… Steve…. It's so cold…. Can't feel anything…. Where are you…? Don't want to be here anymore…. Don't leave me… St…."
Darkness cleared into a few blindingly bright lights.
"Sergeant Barnes."
'N-no…. Not him. Please….'
An electrical saw screamed at my ears only to be drowned out by my own.
"NOT MY ARM!"
They're taking it. All over again.
"STE – !"
A force slammed right into my gut. Wind rushed past me. Chilling right down to the bones. Desperately, I reached out. Metal found its way under my fingers. A bar. It froze my skin. Numbing my hand. The frost made it slippery. But I had to hang on. I had to. I had to retur –
"Let go!"
A man in red, white and blue held onto the side of the train. Fire breathed out of his mouth as he yelled more words. Words I couldn't understand. Horns pushed through the blue helmet. Bloody worms burst out of his left eye. He moved closer and closer, crawling along the outside of the car wall.
Something's off. 'This isn't right.'
I clung harder. I had to return ho –
A scream tore from my throat. The metal rod broke free. The faster the wind blew past me, the smaller the demon shrunk. Right into the distance.
My body spun out of control. The cliffs got too close. My hand got caught between the rocks. Broke my bones. Ripped off part of my arm.
"Eleven targets," a man stated. Someone to watch over logistics. "Get it done."
A Barrett M82A1 laid snug in its case. Ready.
Setting up was simple. Routine. I could do it in my sleep. Lying on a metal table. Finding the boardroom.
A calm breath left my lips. My body completely stilled. The target. A couple miles away. He settled in my crosshairs. He had no clue. No idea as to what his future held. How short it actually was. All the target knew was the scotch. The drink he was pouring for himself.
"No!" I gasped, sitting up right. A vibration getting stronger and stronger on my right wrist.
"Mr. Barnes. Mr. Barnes, you're in my house. You're in D.C. Can you hear me, Mr. Barnes? I am Eve. You're in my house. You're in D.C. Can you hear me?"
"Yes," I breathed out, barely able to pry my fingers from their death grip on the blanket.
"How about some water?" she suggested, stopping the vibrating alarm to wake me.
I snatched the bottle off the nightstand. My shaking hands were barely able to twist off the cap. They crushed the plastic mid drink, spilling water everywhere. Even went up my nose.
"Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes? Your heartrate's gotten more erratic."
Through my coughing, I managed to choke out a, "I'm fine."
"If there's anything I could be with help with, Eve's the word," she repeated like she had ever since Valeriy told the A.I. ghost to leave me alone, which she has. Anything beyond the bedroom door, though, was her domain.
Peeling off the water soaked blanket and gathering it in my arms, I headed off into the bathroom to hang the fabric over the curtain rod to dry. It was almost routine by now.
I peeked out of the curtains at the dark street lit by lamps. Another quiet night. No extra shadows. Nobody wandering around, as it should be. Most were asleep at 0427. Except for a few people.
A steady beat could barely be heard. A couple houses away. Probably music of some sort. The beat would change every so often.
Keys tapping on a laptop and a frustrated growl in the room next to this one. Valeriy's still awake. The young woman never had a regular sleeping cycle.
A dim light in the window across the road. Likely the young boy of the household reading under a blanket with a light. The idea of it was almost… familiar.
Like a memory I could almost grasp. A blanket tossed over my head. A lamp to light the dark space. A heavy book in my lap. Words filled my vision, etching themselves into my –
A slam of the laptop closing signaled Valeriy's retreat to the land of dreams. "Night Eve."
"Good night, Val."
And the nightmare came crashing back into my mind. Curling up in the corner was all I could manage to hold it all together. Everything felt cold. Numb. My vision was narrowing to a point. All I could hear was my blood pumping at my ears.
That made me a useless asset. To be decommissioned.
'I need to be of use. Or… Or they'll – '
"Mr. Barnes? Is something the matter? Not to be dramatic, but your heartrate has skyrocketed, and your oxygen levels have plummeted."
I shook my head, pulling in a gasping breath. Desperately trying to calm down. To get everything back to normal. Waiting for my sight to clear up. Waiting for my lungs to stop screaming. Waiting for the next time I lose it all.
"Mr. Barnes? Shall I pull up our satellite feed of deep space? Would that help?" she questioned, a soft musical tune flowing through the speakers under her voice. Something classical.
"I'm… I'm fine. You don't have to baby me," I grunted out. Letting the sniper training slam into place, I waited for the little lights on the bracelet to turn off. For my body to return to peace.
"Babying you would be quite different. This is merely holding out a hand. None of this is easy even with help. It's damn near impossible alone, Mr. Barnes."
I huffed a grumble in response, reaching for the notebook on the night table. If I could write it all out, the nightmares, maybe they'd stop. Or at least quiet down. Hopefully. Anything for my mind to find a figment of peace.
"Your levels seem fine now, so as usual, if there's anything I could be with help with, Eve's the word."
I cracked open the notebook and frowned at the Cyrillic letters that covered the pages. It sickened me how natural it was once writing became familiar again. No matter how I tried for English, Russian would seamlessly take over before I knew it.
With a sigh, I flipped to a clean page. Taking pen to paper, I began logging the nightmare. Most of it memories. But parts of it… it couldn't have happened. Shooting American soldiers in the war.
'I couldn't have done that… right? I didn't shoot my own brothers in arms… did I…? I… I… might have…?'
It hurt just trying to sort out the mess in my head. The memories I could barely grasp onto. The ones that I could… I couldn't trust. Not completely. They've been twisted by Hydra. Or so I hope.
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1522 and the only thing I was almost sure of was that he didn't breathe fire. It would have been useful on the Helicarrier. Nor did he have horns. I didn't see any horns. Not on his helmet. Not on his head. The exhibit pictures and films didn't have any fire breathing or horns.
1522 and the only thing I was almost sure of was that he didn't breathe fire. It would have been useful on the Helicarrier. Nor did he have horns. I didn't see any horns. Not on his helmet. Not on his head. The exhibit pictures and films didn't have any fire breathing or horns.
The man the exhibit said was my best friend. He wasn't the demon in my nightmares. I could at least be sure of that. Some part of me knew that was true.
I need to protect St
"Fuck! My eyes!" were the words that froze my fingers on the page.
A heavy sigh spilled through the kitchen speakers. "I believe you have more than your eyes to worry about, dummy."
A clattering of metal on metal echoed from below. "Ah shit… my hand." I could almost see the pout on her face, as the faucet ran.
Placing the pen and notebook back in their spots, I stretched out my arms and legs for the first time in eleven hours and four minutes. That was when I noticed the delicious smell that permeated the room. Something sweet. Something almost familiar.
Rising from the corner of the bedroom, I silently followed my nose. Straight into the kitchen, where Valeriy was bent over the sink. Not a clue that I was there. Too busy with a hand under the running water and her other arm over her eyes.
Stepping into the room, I found the source of the smell. Scattered on a metal tray were a bunch of slightly charred cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. Excitement welled up somewhere inside me. Something from long ago. In another time. In another life.
This didn't feel right. It didn't look right. I should be shorter. Much shorter. Kneeling on the tiles, that seemed more familiar. Having my chin level with the counter. That was closer. I reached my hand out for a cookie only to see a flash of a wooden spoon smacking a little hand. My hand. Yelled words were garbled at my ears, but even so, I knew they were a warning. That the cookies needed to cool.
A memory.
It had to be a memory.
The voice felt important. Something that left a warmth within my chest. I reached for the cookies again. Hoping to hear it. To find the words it spoke.
Nothing.
I tried again.
It was somebody important to me. I could feel it. Somewhere in my sieve of a mind, I knew. But that's all I knew. That they were important.
"Valeriy," I called out urgently. I needed to know. Before it all disappears… again.
A scream tore out of her throat. "Bucky? What is it?" she asked, squinting her eyes in my direction.
"I need you to smack my hand with a wooden spoon." I reached out, praying to just pinpoint another fragment of that memory. Still nothing.
"Huh…? O-okay?" A drawer opened to my left and the young woman hobbled her way over to it.
"That's a brush, Val. One to the right. No, the other right."
"Thanks, Eve." Valeriy settled against the counter next to me. "I just whack it?" At my nod, she flicked her wrist and the wooden spoon bounced off my outstretched hand with a slight sting.
"Again."
Nothing.
"Again. Again…."
Still nothing.
"It's not working," I managed to force through my gritted teeth.
"It'll come back, Bucky." Fingers combed through my hair. Pushing it out of my face.
I reeled back, away from her. Away from those fingers. Slamming into the cupboards in my attempt.
"Bucky, you can lick the bowl instead," a voice echoed in my head.
And that was when it hit me.
"Mom."
It was my mom.
I remembered my mom.
That was all I could remember of her. Not even a face. Just a voice and a spoon. But it was something. It was my mom.
By the time I pulled myself back together again, Valeriy was back at the sink, rinsing her hand and rubbing her eyes. Took two steps to reach her from the kitchen corner I ended up in. My hand froze in the air between us.
Break the skull on the counter. Target incapacitated.
Fill the sink. Shove head under water. Target incapacitated.
There was far too many things that could be used in a kitchen and there were far too little she could do against me. My own mind still unsettled me with how it kept coming up with ways to kill her. But in the same breath, I didn't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt anybody. Not anymore.
Dropping my hand to my side in a tight fist, I cleared my throat. To which Valeriy flinched at. Likely unsuspecting that I would be standing next to her. Far too unguarded.
"More spoon whacking?" she asked lightly.
"Let me see them."
"The spoon?"
"Enough with the spoon. Your burns, Valeriy."
"Oh." She tilted her head back, trying to keep her eyes from blinking. "Please tell me I didn't cook my eyeballs. I remember the egg demonstration in chemistry. Everything's blurry."
I caught her arm before she could continue rubbing her eyes. "They're going to be fine. If you stop irritating them. That help the panic?"
She chuckled shakily. One of her nervous ticks. A moment to gather herself. Buy a bit of time. But she nodded, as I soaked a paper towel in cold water. "Thanks, Bucky."
Getting her to hold the paper towel to her eyes, I pulled her hand out of the stream of water. "That should help it a bit." An angry blister welled up on the side of her index finger. I had a sinking suspicion she forgot what an oven mitt was. "Keep it under the tap for another twelve minutes. At the very least."
"'Kay," she chirped with a soft smile.
"So what's the cookies for?"
"For you."
"Me?"
"Yup. All yours. I've been a temperamental asshat the last few days. Sorry. And I was looking for a dish from the 1930s last night but got side tracked by sweets. Ended up in Marshmallow's recipes. I don't know if they're from the right time, but they're like old. So maybe the 40s? Don't know if her parents passed them down to her, so they could be super old?"
"Who's Marshmallow?" I asked, walking back over to the kitchen island. There was dough left in the mixing bowl.
"Uhhh… my grandmother. We don't really talk about her, so my brother and I exclusively call her Marshmallow. We don't talk about our aunt either… since they both died…."
"…Do all of you have sweets for nicknames?" Glancing from Valeriy to the cameras in the room, I shrugged and dunked a finger into the bowl of cookie dough for a taste.
"Pretty sure all of them are sweet related things?"
'Yum.' I couldn't resist and helped myself to more, hoping for a memory to come within reach.
"I may steal a cookie or two from you, Bucky. I should probably check that they're edible."
I hummed a response since my mouth was full of cookie dough and the bowl was now empty. I couldn't manage to grasp onto any new memories. All of them feeling so far out of reach.
Gathering the various cups and spatulas, I made quick work of clean up. It'd hide the fact I practically licked the bowl clean. "Still got another ten minutes under the tap," I chided when she tried to move away, and dropped everything into the sink.
She took a deep breath in. "You enjoy sneaking up on people, don't you?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. "Thank you. For the cookies."
Valeriy flashed a grin. "Have you snuck one yet?"
"No. Have to wait for them to cool."
"Sounds like a smart idea."
Silence fell between us.
It was nice. I almost felt like I could be human. Trapped in this house. It was so different here. I wasn't pointed at targets to shoot. To kill. I was told to protect. I helped the A.I. ghost evaluate the security on a few locations.
She wasn't too happy about my lack of sleep this morning. She'd prod with words, but never forced me to sleep. If I didn't listen, I wasn't wiped. I wasn't stuffed into a metal box. Just nagged.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Valeriy's head set off the sensors on the metal plates of the arm. "I just need a moment, Bucky." If my hearing wasn't enhanced, I wouldn't have heard her over the running water and I would have shifted away. "I don't do too well not being able to see."
She gave me the freedom to move around as I pleased in this house. Hadn't told me to stop scaring her. Even though orders easily slipped through her lips, they were only small little things. Pass the pen. Get out of the bathroom. Didn't want someone to hold her hair. Little things.
For the most part, I could do whatever I wanted. If I wanted right now, I could walk away from her and she wouldn't stop me. We're… friends.
But how long could this last? With Hydra on my tail. It was only a matter of time before they located me. And with Hydra in my head, I could easily destroy this fragile place with my own hands. They shouldn't have placed their trust in something like me.
"Thanks Bucky." Valeriy straightened up, trying to stretch out only to wince. Her left lower ribs were hurt. Noticed it in what I could remember of that night. But I couldn't remember what I did and I was too scared to ask. Part of me wanted to pretend she ran into the kitchen island. Ran full force into it. By accident.
Looking for a distraction, my eyes landed on a bowl of peeled orange slices. They were… odd. Oddly small. About the size of my thumb. Oddly colored. Purple. Not orange. The peel wasn't orange either. It was red. But she ate them almost every day.
With a shrug, I popped a slice into my mouth, breaking the skin with my teeth. An explosion of sweet juice coated the inside of my mouth. I'd either forgotten what an orange tasted like or this was made of sugar. Besides the shape and texture, I wouldn't have guessed this to be an orange.
'The future's weird….'
But I couldn't help but eat another one. As odd as they were, they were as good as candy.
"Still another three minutes and sixteen seconds," I told her and left her side for the tray of cookies. They've cooled enough. Probably.
Plucking one from the counter, my hand automatically held one out beside me. A flash of a plaid dress and then it was gone.
'Who was I passing a cookie to?'
Someone small. Smaller than I was. Back when I was barely taller than a countertop. Done it enough for this to be a seared into my muscle memories.
Ignoring the small tremor in my fingers, I carefully took a bite of the cookie I needed to give to somebody else. The crispy outside melted into the gooey center. The chips hadn't had the time to settle back to solid. Each bite lightly burned the insides of my mouth but it also returned a sliver of a memory.
A smiling brunette. Not a hair out of place. Lips painted red.
Three little girls. In three little dresses. Plaid. Flowers. Frills. Ribbons. And big blue eyes.
A scrawny blond. Chocolate smudge on a cheek. Grinning from ear to ear. A laugh.
I knew them. I knew all of them. I knew I knew them. But trying to place them was like trying to grab smoke. No matter how I tried. I couldn't.
I needed another. I needed those memories. I needed to know who they were to me. I tore into another cookie. Frantic. Then another. And another. And another.
"Bucky."
My head snapped up at the name. I hadn't heard her approaching. Too distracted. But there she was, standing in front of me.
"She's not going anywhere, Bucky," she whispered so softly.
Valeriy reached up, and I froze. The back of her fingers swept up my cheek. They were wet…? Her thumb swept across just under my lashes.
"You'll remember, Bucky. Now, properly chew what's in your mouth, swallow it down and then breathe," she ordered.
My body automatically obeyed and before long a gasp filled my lungs. It was a struggle to stay standing there, still, and to not shrug off her hand on my shoulder. The smile she offered blurred… with tears? I was crying?
"There. There. You'll remember so long as you don't suffocate on the damn cookies, Bucky. I'll bake as many as you can eat. So slow down."
My eyes burned and I couldn't handle it. Not with her watching. So I ran.
"Bucky! The window's reinfor… ced…. Just stay in this room."
I scrambled away from the window. Needed to stay out of sight. Had to hide. I needed to hide.
"Glad to know that even you can't make it through our windows."
"Eve, shut up…. Where the bloody hell is he?"
"You told me to shut up."
"Really not the time."
I could see Valeriy's feet limp the opposite way from where I hid. They spun around, paused, and headed straight for me.
Her smiling face appeared in the gap. "Hey there, Bucky. I'm surprised you fit under there. Kind of. Come on. Let's get this couch off you."
I shook my head, burying my face behind my arm. "No." With a grunt from her, the weight on my back disappeared. "I don't want – " A blanket hit me in the face and then I was completely covered.
"There. No one can see you. Not even Eve. We won't let them get to you," Valeriy stated. "Now would you like to get out from under there before my leg gives up, Bucky?" Her hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling insistently.
I crawled towards her and I could feel her arms come around me, pulling me upright. The couch dropped behind me with a thud. Her hand found mine, holding on tightly.
"Did you dislocate anything?"
I shook my head. Cold air hit my fingers when she peeled back the blanket. I tried to pull my hand back. She was trying to get the bracelet off. "Don't."
"It's okay. I'm just changing it to a chipless one. Took five days, but managed to finally get the GPS out."
"Spent most of it bent over a toilet bowl." They were trying a change of topics. A distraction.
"Not helping," Valeriy snapped, fixing the new bracelet into place. "They're not going to find you, Bucky. Eve will have them breaking into their grandparent's home before they catch wind of where you really are. She's cheeky like that. So they won't find you. 'Kay?"
When she lifted the blanket, letting fresh air inside, I yanked it back down. I didn't want anybody to see me. Not like this. Barely able to hold it together.
I had expected her to walk away, but she didn't. Her hands found my head, holding me close. One of them traveled in circles on my back.
"Let it out."
At the order, I broke. My shoulders shook. My teeth ground together in attempt to swallow a sob. And I leaned into the comfort. Clinging to it with everything I had. Just this once.
'They're gone.'
They had to be. That memory had to be from over 80 years ago. They couldn't be alive anymore.
I was all alone.
But then there was the man I pulled out of the river…. The exhibit said that he was my best friend. He was alive.
"You're not alone, Bucky."
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AN: This is the chapter title that had me using chapter titles.
Most of the chapter titles are a result of my war on spoilers. Hopefully they're enough for a person who read the chapter to remember just by seeing the title.