Hey guys! So here you have the next chapter! I honestly keep losing track of time so I forget to post the next chapter. Sorry!
Just a quick warning: there is some violence in this one, just for those who don't like that kind of stuff.
Anyway I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think and thank you so much for sticking with this ff this far! It really means a lot to me!
Chapter 6
"Bucky snap out of it!" Steve screamed, stumbling back in a desperate attempt to get away from the much stronger man. The sun was beating down on him, making his skin burn. Two bullets in each leg stopped him from getting up and running. The pain was radiating through him as if it had a pulse of its own. He only managed to kick at the steaming asphalt weakly, trying to move away faster, scraping open the palms of his hands as he tried to escape. Where had Bucky gotten a gun from anyway?! What had happened? How had they gotten here?
A quiet whimper escaped his throat when Bucky kept coming closer and closer. His metal arm swayed back and forth slowly, gleaming in the sun's light menacingly. His metal hand was completely covered in Steve's blood. There was absolutely no recognition in Bucky's eyes and Steve knew that there was not even the slightest shred of Bucky left in his mind. The other man had taken over. The weapon was now in charge. He had tried everything- telling Bucky about things they'd gone through, yelled at him. He begged him to stop but nothing that usually worked on Bucky seemed to work this time. Steve couldn't remember what had set Bucky off but he didn't have the luxury to worry about something like that. All he cared about was getting out of this alive. The man that Bucky's kidnappers had forced into his mind was nothing short of a monster. His gaze was cold and calculated, telling tales of other victims he'd drained the life out of without a moment of hesitance. To this man, killing was like folding a piece of paper, send a text to a friend or watching TV. Steve was nothing to this man, just another one of his countless victims. He held out his hand in a pathetic attempt at keeping the soldier at arm's length but the Asset took a hold of Steve's arm and jerked it sideways, dislocating his shoulder before breaking the arm clean in half. A bloodcurdling scream ripped through Steve's throat, sobs trailing after the scream like an afterthought. His arm now hung limply at his side and he was paralyzed by the pain resonating from his arm, spreading through his entire body like an electrical current running through his veins. "Bucky please."
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
"You! You're Bucky damn it!"
"Weapons don't have names." Bucky sneered, sitting down on Steve's abdomen, straddling him and forcing him to lie down. He wrapped his smooth metal hand around Steve's throat and squeezed. He kept squeezing, harder and harder until… Steve's eyes widened and he began coughing uncontrollably. His body jerked involuntarily and warm, thick blood filled his mouth. The cracking sound his throat had made rung in his ears while tears filled his eyes. He wanted to make a sound, anything, one last plea for Bucky to come back to him but his vocal chords didn't respond. He couldn't feel them anymore. It felt like he was choking and drowning in blood at the same time, blood gurgling up into his mouth from his throat before running down into his lungs.
He was dying.
Bucky was killing him. Bucky… his Bucky was killing him.
Steve jolted up to sit upright on the couch, a wry cry escaping his mouth. He was panting uncontrollably and it took his mind a moment to realize that he could breathe fine again. The air around him was cool. He was surrounded by a soft blanket with the smooth leather couch beneath him.
A nightmare… he had been dreaming.
He covered his sweat-covered face with his shaking hands, taking in a long breath and letting it out slowly. The apartment around him was dark and quiet. He could hear sirens outside, reminding him that he was still in the heart of New York. He was safe. Bucky wasn't going to kill him. "Thank goodness it was just a dream." He gasped, placing his hand over his throat to make sure that it was still in one piece. The panic cleared from his mind slowly, like poison that the body had to break down. Once he had calmed down enough to take in his surroundings more clearly, he noticed a movement in the periphery of his vision. Something was gleaming in the feint light the moon threw into the living room of Bucky's apartment. "Bucky…?" The gleam moved again and he caught sight of a red star. The sight made him shiver, images from his nightmare flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinked. This wasn't the monster from his dreams though, this was Bucky. He kept telling himself that over and over again to stop himself from breaking into a panic all over again. "You had a nightmare." Bucky stated. Steve could only just make out his outlines and it made him nervous, especially after the dream he'd just had. He was afraid to see Bucky's face, afraid that his eyes would be just as lifeless as the ones in his dream. For a brief moment, he was back in the Brooklyn from five years ago, shortly before Bucky had received his marching orders. He was painfully reminded of the way Bucky had laughed, the way his eyes always sparkled and that a smile was never far from his lips.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Steve saw Bucky reach out to switch on the lamp that stood on a low wooden table next to the couch. Steve snapped back to reality abruptly and reached out before his mind had caught up to his actions. His hand wrapped around Bucky's right wrist and Steve was suddenly pushed down against the sofa, Bucky's hand pressing down on his chest. The pressure wasn't alarming, in fact, Steve found it grounding. Instead of letting go of Bucky to allow him the space to retreat, Steve left his hand wrapped around the other man's wrist, keeping his hand firmly in place. He had expected Bucky to lash out but he didn't, instead, seemed frozen on the spot. Steve began feeling the warmth from Bucky's hand seep through the skin-tight shirt Steve was wearing. It felt good against his skin. Something in his chest tightened and he realized how much he had missed Bucky's warm touch. "You okay Bucky?" Steve asked him quietly, imagining his face hovering somewhere above his own. He could hear Bucky breathe in and out evenly, the sound filling the gaping silence in the apartment. The side of the couch had dipped a little and Steve reckoned that Bucky was leaning his one knee there. "I am." Bucky replied, "What about you?"
"Not sure." Steve replied honestly. He caught sight of the gleaming metal moving once again and moments later, a bright light illuminated the room. Usually Steve would have to squint but Bucky's body was leaning over him, shielding him from the bright glow of the lamp. Shadows darkened Bucky's face, making him look slightly menacing. His messy brown hair hung loosely at the sides of his face. The black tank top he was wearing exposed his entire metal arm and even part of the scaring. It hugged his body tightly, showing off his toned muscles as well. "I'm sorry I grabbed you." Steve said, keeping his eyes on Bucky's. Bucky hummed a reply, taking a hold of the soft material under his right hand and yanking Steve up by his shirt, positioning him to sit next to Bucky. "Been a while since I've been manhandled like that." Steve laughed and Bucky grunted. Steve watched for a smile hopefully but Bucky wasn't quite ready for that yet. His body was completely relaxed though, which Steve took as a win.
Steve's body was starting to recover from the excessively realistic dream now too and he sunk back into the couch with a heavy sigh. For a while Steve let the silence settle on the room, listening to the faint noises of the city until he felt awkward for staying quiet. "Did I wake you?" He asked Bucky who nodded, turning his head to look at Steve, "I'm sorry."
"A nightmare was bound to wake me up sometime during the night anyway."
"You never tell me about your nightmares." Steve wanted to punch himself when he realized that he'd said that out loud. The last thing he wanted was for Bucky to feel like he was being put under pressure. "You never ask." Bucky's reply forced Steve to do a double-take. For a moment, the blond wasn't quite sure he'd heard right but when he saw the feint ghost of amusement in Bucky's eyes, he realized that his friend really had just said what he'd said. He closed his gaping mouth, clearing his throat and looking down at his lap, composing his facial expression again. The green blanket he had covered himself with was now tangled somewhere between Bucky and him like a soft, fluffy chain linking the two men together. "If I asked, would you tell me?"
"I don't know."
"They're about your time in that place?"
"Hydra." Bucky spoke quietly, "The place I was held was a Hydra facility in Russia."
"Wait…"
No. No. No! Not Hydra! Please not the Hydra! Steve had dealt with Hydra before on one of his missions with the SWAT team. They were an organization that had originated in Nazi Germany during the second World War. He remembered reading about their scientists that kept trying to find new ways to create outrageous weapons. They did a lot of experimenting on humans, even in the United States. Steve had stormed one of their facilities close to Mexico with his team, clearing out the place and freeing the prisoners. What he'd seen there had been enough to give him nightmares for months to come after that. Even now he sometimes dreamt about the things he'd seen there.
In response to the horrific memories, the hairs on the back of Steve's neck stood up and he rid himself of his thoughts of Hydra quickly, desperately focusing on Bucky instead. "They had you all this time?" Steve asked and Bucky nodded. Bucky was kneading his knuckles slightly, showing that he was on edge. Steve would soon find out that Bucky wasn't tense because of what Hydra had done to him, instead he was tense because he was telling someone about Hydra. His mind was yelling at him, telling him not to give away any of Hydra's secrets. He had to fight with himself to open his mind and talk. He was talking to Steve, he reminded himself, Steve was good. "The first thing I remember is waking up in a surgery room surrounded by men wearing lab coats. One of them, I think his name was Zola, he told me something… I don't remember what though. Something about the procedure having started already. I blacked out shortly after that when they began cutting into what was left of my left arm." The memory didn't seem to shake Bucky in the slightest and Steve had to admit, it was slightly disconcerting. If someone asked Steve to talk about what he'd seen in that Hydra facility, he'd break out in a cold sweat and begin shaking. Bucky though had said it the way he used to read passages from their physics textbook in class all those years back. What else had they done to him to make the memory of having his mangled arm amputated without anaesthesia seem harmless? "My dreams are about the things they did to me and the things I did. The people I killed…" Bucky finally answered Steve's initial question, "I don't remember much of the time in between. I was put under a lot. The memories come back in bursts." Steve nodded. He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything despite how much it was going to hurt him to know. He didn't want Bucky to be alone with his nightmares and his memories anymore. Bucky had been on his own with everything long enough- four long, gruelling years long. Bucky deserved to have a Sam, to know that someone knew about his anguish and was trying to understand what that had done to him. At the same time, Steve wasn't quite sure that he could handle hearing about what Bucky had gone through under the psychotic ideas harboured by Hydra.
Hydra…
"I think I've heard enough for one night." Steve admitted shakily, "Thanks for telling me some of that though." Knowing that Bucky had been held captive by Hydra was enough to shake Steve to the bone. Steve was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Bucky move until his warm, slightly rough hand moved over the much smoother skin on Steve's throat. Steve froze, sucking in a startled breath of air. Bucky stayed silent for a moment, assessing the look on Steve's face before saying, "Your bruises are healing." He letting his calloused fingers trace the blue and red marks all over Steve's throat. Steve didn't quite know what to do. He hadn't been prepared for Bucky to do something like that and he had been even less prepared for how flustering it was. A frown spread across his face and Bucky interpreted it incorrectly, moving his hand away from Steve. "Sorry." Steve shook his head, "I was just thinking."
"You frown a lot when you think." Bucky agreed.
"You used to call it my thinking face." Steve laughed, smiling fondly at the memory of how Bucky used to pull his leg and Stevie if you keep frowning like that your face is gonna freeze like that. Ya think girls want a guy that looks all grumpy the whole time?
"I'd just tell you to shup up. Saying that one of us has to think, at least." Steve grinned and Bucky let out a sharp breath of air- the closest he'd get to laughing. Like a miracle in itself, Steve watched the corners of Bucky's mouth twitch upwards in a hardly visible smile. "You were a punk." Bucky muttered and Steve bowed his head, laughing. "And you were a jerk." The conversation made Steve's chest swell up with joy, and he became slightly giddy, "Man I've missed you Buck." He admitted wistfully and Bucky's eyes found his immediately. "Are you tired Steve?" Bucky asked him and Steve nodded, a little disheartened at Bucky's failure to reciprocate the sentiment. Bucky moved to sit at the very edge of the couch, removing the plush cushion from behind his back and placing it on his lap. Steve watching him curiously, unsure of what Bucky was getting at. Bucky pulled the blanket out from underneath Steve with an ease that made Steve a little jealous. Then, he instructed Steve to lie down. Steve hesitated, assessing Bucky's body language before following his prompts and lying with his head resting on the cushion on Bucky's lap. Memories of cold winters and a warm body pressed against his for warmth came back into existence and he sighed, snuggling up to Bucky unthinkingly. Bucky smelled exactly as he had all those years back: a mixture of a smell that reminded him of lavender, sweat and his deodorant which he would vary per occasion. He smelt warm and welcoming and, if strong could be described through a smell, then Bucky would smell like he was strong, ready to protect Steve whenever Steve needed him to. It was comforting and Steve caught himself taking deep breaths, letting the smell take him back to happier days. The brunet spread the blanket out over Steve's long body and it engulfed him completely, the soft material brushing over Steve's bare feet in the gentlest of caresses. "I'll make sure you're safe." Bucky muttered, averting his eyes when Steve looked up at him.
"Why are you doing this Bucky?" Steve couldn't help but ask. Bucky usually avoided physical contact. It made him aggressive. In the past two days though, starting with his behaviour at Tony's lab, Bucky hadn't been as hesitant to touch Steve anymore. "When they touched me, they did it to hurt me. When I touched, I did it to kill. Your touch doesn't hurt though and I don't want to hurt you." Bucky tried to put his jumbled thoughts into words, "We used to do something like this. I think… I can't remember. I feel like we did. I can trust you, I can touch you. You won't hurt me." Steve smiled. It was probably the greatest compliment Bucky had ever made him up until then. He felt his cheeks warm up and his smile widen at the thought. Bucky draped his right arm over Steve's chest protectively and let his left arm hang over the edge of the couch. Steve wanted to stay awake to make sure that Bucky wasn't bored but as soon as his eyes shut, he was gone, to the feeling of Bucky's warm arm holding him safely in place.
The next morning Steve got a call from Rhodey- an urgent call. He hurried to get ready, skidding across the laminated wooden flooring, agitating Bucky who was trying to focus on the TV to stop himself from pinning Steve to a wall to get him to stop moving. Bucky had already gotten ready hours ago at around six. Steve had slept until 7:30 when Bucky had shoved Steve's ringing phone in his face with a disapproving frown.
With the taste of his black coffee still lingering on his tongue, Steve stuffed a slice of toast into his mouth before slipping over his brown leather jacket and signalling for Bucky to follow him. Bucky was good at that- following orders. Orders made him feel safe. Orders were easy to follow; choices were hard to make. Fear of being punished for making the wrong choices still lingered deep within his code and it made his skin crawl.
They made their way over to the police station, Steve making sure to calm his pace as not to rile Bucky up even more. The sun was shining again but for some reason Steve felt cold. When they entered the station, Sam and Rhodey were already waiting for them. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air and when Steve looked around, he saw several officers with steaming cups in their hands. "You look horrible Steve." Sam commented, "Didn't sleep too well?"
"I woke up during the night, that's all." Steve shrugged, unconsciously edging a little closer to Bucky.
"I have something I would like to discuss with you Captain Rogers." Rhodey muttered and Steve didn't miss the grave undertone in his voice. He looked troubled and on-edge. His dark eyes flicked to Bucky for a moment before resting on Steve again. "Without Sergeant Barnes." Steve wanted to protest but Sam gave him a look that shook Steve up enough to put him back into neutral. "Is it okay for you to wait here for a moment Bucky?" Steve asked him and Bucky just stared at him for a moment until Steve added, "I'd like for you to wait here please." Bucky nodded and looked around to find a seat to sit down on, settling down in the waiting area of the police station.
Steve followed the men to Rhodey's office down the hall but not before shooting a look at Bucky over his shoulder. Bucky was staring out the window with that same vacant expression on his face.
Rhodey closed the dark brown wooden door behind Sam and Steve. The two of them sat down in the black leather seats in front of the Colonel's desk. A bonsai tree stood in the corner next to the large bookshelf behind Rhodey. The smell of paper and books wafted towards Steve as the Rhodey moved around his desk to sit down. A few reward certificates were hung up on the white walls. "So what's this about?" Steve asked, noticing Sam shift. Obviously, Sam knew more about this than Steve did. "Ever since Barnes was transferred to our police station we've been conducting research into finding out where he had been held over the past four years." Steve's chest tightened and he shifted a little. His jeans pulled against the leather uncomfortably but he forced down the urge to wiggle around some more. "We haven't found much… but what we did find… let's just say it was alarming." Rhodey opened the file that was lying on his desk, handing Steve a photograph. Steve looking at it for a moment before looking up at Rhodey with a puzzled expression, unable to see what this photo had to do with Bucky. It was a picture of a factory building. Railings lined the numerous platforms all over the side of the building. "Look carefully. What do you see?" Rhodey asked, pointing towards the picture with his eyes and a gentle nod of his head. Steve combed over the photo with his eyes until they caught sight of something horribly familiar that made his gut twist. Amongst the yellow railing, he saw a red star blended in to the background. When he inspected it a little more closely, he could just make out the metal arm clutching onto a sniper. "They called him the Winter Soldier." Rhodey continued and Steve held his breath, "He's been credited with over two dozen assassinations over the past four years. Every time someone died, it just so happened to be someone Hydra didn't want around anymore."
"So he's killed 24 people?" At Steve's question, Sam bowed his head, letting out a shaky breath. The former pararescuer was kneading his hands together as if they were a form of stress ball. Steve shot a glance at Sam before his eyes locked with those of the Colonel. "He's only killed 24 people, right?" He added a little frantically. He could feel his heartbeat quicken and his leg began bobbing up and down nervously.
"I wish I could tell you that there were only 24 Captain. The reason he's stayed hidden for so long, is because no one's ever seen him and those who did, didn't live long enough to tell anyone about it. He never left any witnesses and when I mean any witnesses, I mean any... witnesses." A cold shiver ran through Steve's body when the weight of what Rhodey had just said, sunk in, weighing down on him with unbearable strength. Bucky… no, the… Winter Soldier had killed anyone around, regardless of age or gender.
He had most likely killed children.
"But there…" A puzzled frown spread across Steve's face while he struggled to keep his breathing even, "There has to be some sort of explanation for this though. Bucky would never…" Steve's face contorted and he clenched his hands into tight fists, bowing his head, "Bucky would never do stuff like that!"
"He didn't have a choice." Sam took over for Rhodey, putting his arm around Steve's shoulders comfortingly. Steve could feel Sam's fingertips press into his right shoulder slightly and he focused on that for a moment to ground himself. He felt like he was about to drown in what Rhodey had just told him. Panic clawed at his insides like a monster born in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to run out of Rhodey's office, out of the police station and never come back. This had to be some sort ofnightmare! But then, Steve knew it wasn't. He knew that he wouldn't wake up to Bucky who was going to comfort him, showing him that it had just been a dream. This was reality and it was tearing Steve apart, atom after atom of his shaking body.
"Barnes didn't know what he was doing." Sam added after a short pause.
"What do you mean?" Steve looked between the two men with pleading eyes, wishing that someone could make all of this alright, make him not feel like the image he had had of Bucky had just been shattered into a million, irreparable pieces, lying on the floor, cutting into the soles of his feet.
"Ever since the end of the Second World War, Hydra has been working on a machine that can wipe people's memories, molding them into weapons." Rhodey explained, checking his facts with the ones written down in the file in front of him before continuing his explanation, "The soldier is strapped to a metal chair and a contraption is lowered over their head. It sends electrical currents through the person's head, causing temporary and sometimes permanent amnesia."
"Does that hurt?" Steve asked, focusing on pushing down the panic that was taking over more and more of his mind as the seconds ticked by.
"Very." Rhodey affirmed, forced to watch the strongest man he knew, Captain Steven Rogers, fall apart in front of him, "Once the person is… wiped… they use a certain series of trigger words to revert the soldier back into a pre-programmed state of mind."
"Trigger words?" Steve chipped in.
"Yes. He was kept in Siberia so I assume his will be in Russian. At some point we need to ask him about them." Rhodey said wtih a sigh, looking back down at the file that held so much information about Bucky, so many secrets, so many nightmares, "The soldier becomes a mindless weapon that follows orders." Rhodey continued gravely, "It takes at least a year of constant torture and repressive techniques to make a person forget who they are and to strip them of their humanity completely. He followed orders without questioning what he was doing. He killed without even thinking about it or hesitating for a second. When he started thinking or feeling again, they'd simply wipe him again and start over. When he was not of use, they put him into a coma until they had a new assignment for him." By the time Rhodey was done, a blank look had crossed Steve's face. Rhodey knew that expression. He had seen it in a lot of battle-scarred soldiers who had seen and experienced far too much. The expression only lasted a moment though, before the mask Steve was wearing cracked and he bowed his head, hiding his face in his hands while he sobbed…
Forty minutes later, when Steve had finally managed to pull himself together again, he looked Rhodey in the eye and said, "I'm not going to let him go to jail for something he was forced to do." Yes, Steve was willing to fight the government for Bucky. Hell, even after everything Steve had just found out, he was willing to fight the entire world if it suddenly decided that it no longer liked Bucky. "He isn't being held accountable for anything he's done in the past." Rhodey assured Steve, smiling when the man sunk into his chair notably, "He wasn't in a clear state of mind- far from it actually. We have been running enough psychological tests on him to know that Bucky is damaged and has gone through severe torture and thus will not be held accountable for his actions in the past. He was being controlled."
"Thank you so much Colonel!" Steve sighed, "I'll make sure that Bucky gets better! I promise!"
"Good." Rhodey nodded, "Because I'm afraid he will be held accountable if anything happens now." Steve nodded understandingly. It made sense. Bucky was a lot clearer now and the night before had shown Steve that he was starting to learn how to control himself better. "Are you okay Steve?" Sam shook him a little, his arm still around the other's broad shoulders. "I don't know." Steve rubbed his tired eyes. He wasn't fine, but telling Sam that wasn't going to change a thing about how he felt. He'd had his moment, he had been allowed to cry and now it was time to get back to work and make sure that Bucky got better. It didn't matter that Steve felt numb inside, dead. It didn't matter that his stomach ached and that he felt like he was about to throw up. "I'm glad that I finally know what happened to Bucky but to know how much they hurt him and to know that he did those things… that his hands did those things… I just…" He shook his head, forcing back his tears, "I don't know what to think and feel. It's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard and that with Bucky of all people… oh my goodness…" He let out another sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face as if he had only just woken up.
"I can imagine that this must be incredibly difficult for you." Rhodey gave him a sympathetic frown, "It's a miracle that Barnes even survived four years of that treatment but Steve," Steve sat up a little straighter, not used to Rhodey addressing him with his first name, "I know we can help him. Don't give up on him yet."
"I won't. I'm never going to give up on Bucky." Steve assured him, earning a smile from both Sam and the Colonel.
Obviously the new information about Bucky had shaken Steve up even more than he had originally thought. When he got up from the chair he had been sitting in, his legs shook and Sam had to support him to stop him from sinking back into the chair. They walked along the corridor slowly, Steve leaning his hand against the smooth, cold wall for stability while Sam's arm stayed wrapped around Steve's lower torso firmly. Once they got to the entrance and his eyes fell on Bucky, a surge of pain shot through him and he bent over, vomiting all over the floor.
So there you go! I felt so sorry for Steve in this chapter :(
I really hope you enjoyed it though!
Let me know what you think!
