The Winter Soldier wakes up and the first thing he notices is darkness, darkness everywhere. He tries to sit up, but he's not allowed to, something keeps him pinned down. When his brain starts to function and process sensations it receives from other parts of his body, he understands he's lying on his back. His wrists are fastened down to whatever he's placed on and so are his ankles, shins, thighs, waist, upper arms and finally also his neck. When he's aware of all parts of his body and makes sure there is a neural connection between each of them and his brain, he moves on to another ritual that follows waking up – actual recollection.

I have HYDRA to thank for my life. I must serve HYDRA. Serving HYDRA is a favour to the mankind. HYDRA decides who the target is and I do what I am told to do. I do not ask questions, HYDRA tells me everything I need to know. I do not hesitate to kill every single person HYDRA tells me to kill. I do not know compassion or love. Even if killing a target means destroying a whole state, I have to fulfil my mission. I am nothing. HYDRA owns me.

He realises that some of the lines seem senseless and not his own. There's a furrow between his eyebrows as he tries to get through the haze of artificial memories. He knows they're wrong even though he has no idea why he thinks so.

Bucky?

Incomprehensible and yet interesting word. Look of pain and yet happiness. Man strange and yet familiar. Confusion, so much confusion. I need to know-

The man on the bridge, who was he?

Careless, stupid but vital question. Who was he?

Your work has been a gift to mankind.

Don't fool me. Idiot. Gonna rip your heart out of your chest. Liar. LIAR! Is everything a fraud? What does the smile mean? Who is he?

Bucky?

What is this word? Does it mean anything? I'm afraid.

Bucky no!

Why did I fall? Catch me, please please please, catch me! I don't wanna die. Why did you let me fall? I love you, catch me. I'm falling, don't you see, catch me! I didn't die, look, come get me. I'm here, come for me. Why aren't you coming? Please, I'm so cold, it hurts, my arm is on fire, it hurts. You left me, it hurts. Come for me, don't you hear? I'm here, come for me. I'm frightened, come for me! It hurts, come please. There are so many noises here, it hurts, my head aches, come. Please, please, please!

This is your new target.

Get him. Get him; why, what did he do? Got one eye – a cripple, pitiful. Dangerous? Why? Not supposed to ask questions. Not supposed to think. Pain.

Tell them I'm in pursuit.

Failure? No, shot him, shot him precisely, hesitation. Caught a glimpse. Who's the other man? He's here. A sound, what is it? Hard, metal object. Surprise in his eyes – not used to seeing people catching it? Smirk. Here you go, man.

You met him earlier this week on another assignment.

Yeah. More. Next. Another. I want to know. Tell me!

Who was he?

Bucky?

Bucky, no!

So similar. Identical. The one who left me. The help that didn't come. Raw, crude hatred. Pain, so much pain, and blood everywhere. Janus, the god with two faces. Hate. Letdown. Solace.

I know him.

Get to know his name.

The Winter Soldier gasps for air as he ends with his recalling. He knows everything comes with a price, but this one may be a bit too high. His head spins and he feels nauseous. He has probably pushed his mind and body too far and now he'll break. Break? What would it mean? What could be worse than this?

Than being a tool, a weapon a mere thing. What could be worse than being treated like a lifeless object or even worse a mentally retarded child? What could be worse than not even having a name? Everybody has a name, but not him. He has some nicknames, words his keepers use when talking about him but that's not a name, that's a label. It's as if he was a sheep dog; needed and important but certainly not loved. Referred to as 'it' or 'the subject' – they don't even try to pretend he's a person.

The soldier wonders why he's never minded before. Or maybe he did and he just doesn't remember, everything's so blurry, clouded but he managed to see through the haze, remember something...

What was it?

He's sure he has remembered. He was dreaming, he was far away, he saw his past. Hasn't he? Then where is it?! He wants it, wants it, wants it more than he should. He shouldn't want anything, he's a thing, I am nothing, HYDRA owns me.

He tosses as much as he could which hurts but not enough to make him stop. He shakes himself in frustration, his body protests by sending reports of damage made to his flesh but he ignores the pain. It's as if he's gone completely mad, out of control. He's short of breath because of the strain on his throat but that doesn't make him cease; quite the opposite, he throws his head aback even more, to the point when he's no longer able to keep his mouth closed. His eyes move frenetically in their sockets and the fingernails of his right hand dig into the palm, drawing blood. He clutches his metal fist as well but he's unable to cause any damage.

His lips are turning blue from the asphyxiation but he's far too gone to be saved by his self-preservation instinct. He's gone mad from the mess his recollection caused to his blank mind unaccustomed to holding memories. It was as if a person who is starving for a long time ate a lot. His mind just gave in, blacked out and threw up all its content. It was a long, long time since he had his own free will that so many independent thoughts occupied him too much for him to handle it.

Before he can strangle himself in his seizure, his keepers come inside the room to check on him. When they find him tossing around with purple lips, they untie him immediately and stab him with an injection of sedatives. The soldier's body submits, calms down and his lungs start to fill in again. His keepers take his vitals and observe his brain function. There, where too much activity was just moments ago are now only a few barely perceptible waves of neural changes.

Their first worry is that they'd made a mistake; miscalculated the amount of memory they had to take away from him. If that was the truth, they were practically dead. However, that would not explain the seizure they have seen. No, it must have been the other way around. Neither of them believed it could happen, but it is the only logical conclusion. The brain of the subject was so full of thoughts or ideas it couldn't take it and shut down. It was improbable, but as it turned out not impossible.

The question was: why? How did the thoughts appear, where did they come from? It hasn't had any thought for seventy years, so why now? What was so important it gave it so many things to consider? Without asking it they would know nothing and the situation probably won't change after questioning it.

The task was to prepare it for battle, to serve. It would help nothing if the subject collapsed in the middle of battle because it'd decide to think something over. No, they have to wipe out all the traces of memories that might have been in its mind, to destroy all of it and wake it up fresh and unthinking.

But they have so little time. The project they are supposed to prepare it for was starting in few hours or maybe even minutes and they have to run some tests. Did it erase its whole memory or are there still remnants of what it was thinking about? They have to see, they had to make sure it won't break down during the action. They have to do as much as they can to make sure it won't betray. Not because they believe anything, they lost all illusions long ago, but to keep their life.

The Winter soldier comes to, awaken by an unpleasant smell of something really bad. He opens his eyes and he sees the familiar faces of his handlers. He blinks a few times to adjust to the sharp light in the room. It startles him a bit to wake up and see people around himself; he has a distant feeling he usually wakes up on his own.

They step closer and start examining him and he lets them because that's what he always does. In the meantime, he tries to recall what he feels is missing. He doesn't have any idea of what he is, where he is and he realises he should know at least something. It frightens him and he panics for a while before his fear is shut down by the sedatives that run through his vessels. He feels numb – no he is numb because he doesn't understand the concept of feeling. What is feeling?

What is being?

His eyes fill with tears. He's so desperate and lonely and yet he can't name any of his emotions, feelings. He doesn't remember how to talk just yet and the words create themselves in his mind laboriously as if he was trying to move a limb he had had in plaster for long months. He's sure there is something more but he just can't reach his knowledge yet.

He knows the men, who lean above him, mutter, argue and do other things he doesn't understand but he doesn't feel safe. He realises they have him in their mercy so he doesn't struggle, but he seals the information in his mind for later analysis.

"Hey," one of them says and looks at the Soldier's face. The patient's eyes widen in horror as he tries to connect the sound with a meaning and fails. He opens his mouth because he assumes they expect him to say something, but no words come.

"Tell me who you are!" the keeper speaks up again and the Soldier stares at him, frozen at spot by dread. He has just figured out that the previous word didn't mean anything. Hey is just an interjection used to attract attention of the addressed person. How is he supposed to discover the meaning of a full sentence?

"Who are you?!" the handler shouts and his colleagues turn their heads in the Soldier's direction. He looks around, hopeless what to do, how to tell them that he doesn't know, doesn't remember, doesn't-

They walk over to look at him closely and he thinks hard, so hard so he can answer them. He doesn't know why he feels that way, but he's afraid of not responding. He can't say he remembers them beating him, but then again, he doesn't remember anything. He only knows his handlers. He thought he knew them, but he connected them with safety at first while now he thinks they're dangerous.

Danger!

He doesn't have the word, not yet, but the images and feelings are enough to make him feel exposed. He wants to flee but his brain is not even able to control itself, to say nothing about his body. So he lies still, struggles with words that won't come and stares in front of himself.

"We erased it. It's gone. They're gonna kill us," one of the keepers says with a serious, grave tone. Others looked at the Winter Soldier with badly hidden fear and loathing. They've never been fond of him, but they were paid quite a lot of money to take care of him. However now, when he was going to be the cause of their deaths, they hated him with passion.

If he wasn't that desperately blank and his mind worked properly, he would be afraid. But now he just waits, stares and gives them an empty, faraway gaze. He does not try to understand their words anymore, but as far as he can say, it's not any good. He realises he can move his fingers and he balls his hands into fists. Not that he remembers doing it, he does it based on pure instinct. He regains strength in his wrists as well, but when he tries to lift them up, something impedes this movement. He panics and his brain shuts down and no longer tries to gain back control over his now lifeless, uncontrolled body.

"We have to beat it back to it. At least make it appear it still has the last bits of brain it's had before." Another of the handlers says. The Soldier moves his eyes towards the voice, but he doesn't think he's seen the man before. Suddenly adrenaline rushes through his body and finally wakes his brain from the trance. He moves suddenly, shakes as if in seizure and he realises he feels an unpleasant pressure on various parts of his body.

"I belong to HYDRA. I do what HYDRA tells me. I don't question decisions HYDRA has made. I do not have any opinions. I am a weapon and I have no right to think. HYDRA is the only good in the world. HYDRA wants to give the world peace. I am not-"

"Enough." The unfamiliar keeper slaps him in the face and the Soldier loses his train of thoughts. "Shut up."

"It remembered," another keeper says dully with an expression of surprise.

"Maybe. We have to make sure it is this loyal." The first one says again and looks sharply at the Soldier. "Untie it and take it to Chelyakovski."

The Winter Soldier widens his eyes in fear. He knows the name; he doesn't know how or what it means, but his whole body hurts at the mere recollection. Nevertheless before he can analyse the feeling further, they release the grip of the strains on his body, lift him up and force him to stand on his feet. The sudden change of position overwhelms him, he doesn't comprehend it and he falls to the ground sorely. The sudden movement makes him sick and he would throw up if he ate something solid in the last few decades.

They don't let him adjust to the situation so they pull him up again, but now they support him so he wouldn't fall again. He put his whole weight on them and he tries to process the new sensation. He still stumbles for his feet don't really listen to him, so they more carry than lead him from the room. They appear in a fully-lit corridor. The light was uncomfortable for him and now it's much worse. He shuts him eyes as much as he can and he doesn't see where he's going. He breaths heavily and laboriously and he feels so nauseous he wishes somebody would rush in and just end it already.

His dream doesn't come true though. He's dragged through the corridor and every time he opens his eyes, it hurts him so much and he wants to lie down and die, he rather closes them. He still gags and his stomach is on fire.

Finally they release him and his knees buckle under him. He falls down, opens his eyes in the process and yelps slightly when his knees hit the ground. His malfunctioning brain tells him to place his hands under himself to lessen the impact of the fall. He does it too slowly though and he barely manages to cover his face and avoid breaking his nose. His metal arm rattles when it falls on the ground and it frightens him. His body shouldn't make such noise. Or should it? He squeals both in surprise and pain. After few moments, he's pulled up onto his knees – somebody's grabbed his hair. Sharp pain forces him to throw his head aback, bright light blinds him and he gasps for air.

"Who are you?" somebody growls. He suspects it's not the person who holds his hair, but he can't make sure.

"I am nothing, HYDRA owns me. HYDRA tells me-"

"Stop!" He's silenced again. For a while his body relaxes, but then his brain informs him this wasn't even the beginning. His head is released but his freedom only lasts for a while. Somebody grabs his hands, pulls them together behind his back and ties them roughly. His metal arm doesn't hurt, but his right and both his shoulders do. His right wrist and forearm are sore from the time when he was tied up, and it doesn't help now. Another pair of cuffs is used to tie his elbows together. He grits his teeth and tries not to cry in pain. He knows it wouldn't help him and he doesn't want to waste precious energy on screa,ing.

"Who are you?" He's asked again.

"I am a weapon of HYDRA. I serve HYDRA without hesitation. I do not question what HYDRA tells me. HYDRA aims to-"

"Enough." An authoritative voice interrupts him again and the Winter Soldier stops talking. He knows more instinctively than consciously what is going to happen next. A stout, tall man comes into his view and everything within the Soldier screams: Danger! Danger! He curls into a ball as much as the cuffs allow him to, without realising he's doing it. The man's later actions prove his suspicions right; before he comprehends the situation, he feels sharp pain in his left cheek. He feels something hot on his face and it takes him a little time to realise it's blood oozing from a wound on his cheekbone. He gasps for air in confusion.

What do they want? Did I say something wrong? He doesn't remember. There is nothing else on his mind, he wants to say more; he assumes they want him to say more. They think he knows more and they want it from him. But I don't have it! I don't have it, please!

He's punched two more times on the same spot as before, he whimpers a bit and he feels something wet rolling down his cheeks. Is it blood? But it came from his eyes – he shouldn't have blood in eyes, right? So what is it? It burns in the wound, not too much but it is uncomfortable. He lowers his face to shield it before he's hit again and the tears mixed with blood of the wound fall to the ground with a loud splash. He stares at it, puzzled and disorientated. There is a distant feeling that tells him blood shouldn't be this light and transparent. Before he can explore that idea further, the man grabs his chin roughly, lifts it up so that the Soldier faces him and he smirks and shows several gold teeth in his mouth.

"Who are you?" another man asks. The Winter Soldier stares blankly in front of himself, straight at his handler's repulsive grin. Why do they keep asking him? He's answered already, they always stopped him before he could finish his sentence and yet they keep asking. What do they want? He yearns to answer them – he wants nothing else but to give them the answer they want so they would leave him be. He craves being left alone; he wants nothing but to be given a simple order, fulfil his mission and be put into sleep again. He's been awake for too long and it's wearing him out. As if being out of the cold, rigid and steady atmosphere of the cryo-tube unfroze some parts of his brain he doesn't really wish to work.

"I don't know," he sobs, "I thought I was HYDRA's but they don't want me because they don't come for me. But I'm not somebody else's either. I am not a person. I must belong to somebody, but HYDRA doesn't want me any longer."

"You belong to HYDRA and you owe them a lot. Why do you think you were dismissed?" he's asked. It makes him feel some emotion he cannot name because he's forced to talk to somebody whose face he doesn't know.

"I have not been given an order. Why should I be awake if I do not have an order? What is the purpose of me being awake if I don't have a mission? I don't have a mission. I should have a mission. Shouldn't I be dead if I don't have a mission? I should-" His babbling is interrupted by the man with gold teeth who punches him in the face. The Soldier reacts instinctively and tries to cover his face with his hands. The cuffs on his arms forbid him to do so, but as he moves them quickly, he loses balance and this time falls hard on his face. He cries with pain this time and he's dizzy. He feels miserable but he's not given time to calm down; his head is pulled up and he notices his hair is stick together with blood.

"How dare you question what HYDRA does? If they decide not to give you any order then you won't have it." The voice without face explains roughly. The Winter Soldier wants to nod; to obey, show he's good and he won't cause any problems, he wants to show he's a reliable weapon and that there is no need for punishing him further. But something within him fights and riots. He just does not want to let it be. That's a whole new sensation, to want – or not want – something, he doesn't remember feeling it before, and it confuses him. Not enough to stop him from talking.

"I've been created to serve on missions. If I don't have a mission, I'm awake for no reason. I should have a mission." He mumbles. He's punched before he finishes the sentence. He's kicked into his stomach and he falls over again because he doesn't have much stability with his arms behind his back. His body is on fire and even though he knows it was a really bad idea to speak, there's some feeling about it he can't name.

Soon enough he regrets saying anything and he wishes he has never been awaken from the cryo tube. All his body hurts, he's covered in blood and he loses grip of reality; the edges of his vision blacken and dissolve, he's not sure if he's upside down, lying, standing or still kneeling, he doesn't know anything but he feels all the pain. It seems to him it lasts for long hour, but the truth is that quite soon, he hears somebody say: "Enough, we'll need it."

That makes him feel a bit more hopeful – he will be given a mission, he'll complete it and they'll put him back to sleep again. He tries to look like he's ready to be sent into action but he's not able to do so. Somebody grabs him by the hair again and he meets a different face this time.

"You are nothing. You will not speak. Not at all. You're not allowed to speak from now on. Understood?" the man asks and stares at him. The Soldier wants to reply with: "Yes, sir!" but he manages to stop himself soon enough. He nods and they untie him again.

"Take it to the labs. It looks like it needs some repairing," the voice that finally has a face orders coldly and walks away. The Winter Soldier is pulled up on his feet and held firmly; he wouldn't be able to stay upright if he was on his own. He is exhausted and weak, his body trembles and he's freezing. He's dragged through the long corridor and again and he manages to stumble into another room before he passes out.