The first thing he realized when he woke up was that his head felt like it was burning. He couldn't recall why it was hurting but the cement he appeared to be lying on helped ease the pain. The second thing noticed was that there was a gap in his teeth. He poked at it with his tongue and small twinges of pain erupted from the area. It was a new, he could still taste blood and it felt wrong and awkward in his mouth.
He opened his eyes slowly and looked around his surroundings. He was alone in a dark, cold room with a large metal door. Nothing in the room seemed particularly unusual. He lifted his head slightly to get a better look around, only to have his vision blur and a wave of sharp pain cut through his head and down his spine. He immediately lowered his head. He didn't think he would feel up to moving for a while.
A hand lay on the ground in front of him. When he moved to wiggle his fingers, the hands fingers moved. It must have been his hand. It seemed to be in working order and moved whenever and wherever he wanted it too. The blood that scabbed over the ends of each fingertip was a bit concerning though.
He wasn't sure how long he laid there and stared at his trembling hand. He was injured, he could feel the cuts and bruises all across his body, but he had no idea how it all happened. He didn't look up when the door opened, but he tensed automatically.
A soft whine left him as he was roughly grabbed by the arms and pulled upward. He barely got his feet under him before they started dragging him from the room. He didn't have the energy to fight back, his head hung limply in front of him and his feet fell behind him as the strangers led him down a hall.
The lights were too bright and burned in his eyes until he squeezed them shut. He didn't know where he was going, didn't know what he should expect once he got there, but he hoped that it would be okay. His whole body was in pain and he just wanted to relax without anyone hurting him.
He was dropped onto the floor carelessly and groaned as his body thumped to the ground. He laid there for several seconds before someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him up. The man who was kneeling in front of him was a stranger but a shiver ran down his spine at the sight of him. He didn't trust this man, whoever he was.
"Hey, buddy. Did you sleep well?" The man asked. He shook his head. "I suppose you didn't. You did just have your brain fried, in case you forgot."
Everyone in the room started laughing, as if it was some hilarious joke. But he must have forgotten because he didn't remember them doing anything with his head, he couldn't even recall anything happening before he woke up. His head still hurt and he was having trouble focusing, but he knew for a fact that whoever these people were, they had did this to him.
...
"Identify." The man asked him, placing another weapon in front of him. He gave the name, knowing the small gun instantly.
He picked it up, took it apart, cleaned it, and put it back together in just a few minutes and waited to be handed another one. This sort of work made sense. It was better than looking over his many cuts, burns, and bruises and trying to figure out what happened. This kind of work felt natural, familiar. The only problem was the he didn't want to do it for them.
The only thing that could hinder his joy for working with machines was doing it for this mass of strangers who beat him every time he refused to do as the ordered. Yet he couldn't find the harm in naming and cleaning their weapons. He wasn't asked to use one and when he did what he was told none of them were used on him. This was fine.
Until all the parts of the large rifle he had been cleaning were ripped from his hands. He almost immediately prepared for the punishment that would come. He must have done something wrong. He must have accidently damaged the weapon while he was taking it apart, he must have cleaned it wrong.
The man sat down across from him as he gently turned a freshly cleaned handgun over in his hands.
"Do you think this is a good gun?" The man asked slowly.
He paused for a second, contemplating on his answer. If he answered wrong they would hurt him. He didn't know if they wanted a compliment or the truth.
"It could be more efficient." He said quickly. "The weights off, it's made with cheap materials, and it probably has a tendency to malfunction. It's honestly a poor excuse for a weapon and I wouldn't be surprised if you told me the cavemen used it to hunt pterodactyl."
He had expected the butt of the pistol landed hard against his face and split his cheek. He had said too much, a bad habit of his. He needed to learn when to speak and when to shut up, but sometimes his words just ran together when he didn't mean to.
The man smiled at him as he wiped away the small trail of blood dripping down his chin. He didn't like this man.
"So why don't you fix it for me?" The man said slowly. "Make it better."
"It would be easier to just build a whole new pistol." He said.
"Great, we'll start with that."
"No." He said and frowned.
He knew it would be bad before a hand wound its way tightly into his hair and a fist landed against his still swollen cheek. His teeth rattled and his jaw snapped shut against the wave of pain. He wondered if that's how he lost the tooth as the man pulled his fist back again. He was hit too hard and it just popped out.
The next hit knocked him out cold.
...
They were drowning him, which was terrifying and probably the worst experience in his whole life. They held his head down under the water and no amount of kicking or swinging arms was getting rid of the hold on him.
He would have probably cried if not for the water completely submerging his head. It was like something straight out of one of his nightmares. He was drowning, his lungs screaming for air, and he couldn't move himself away. His limbs were growing heavy and it became difficult to continue fighting for air so he just let his arms fall to his side.
Just as he was about to take a breath and drown his head was ripped free. He gasped and breathed quickly as his lungs filled with much needed air. He was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground.
"Come on, buddy." The man said, crouching down next to him. He hated this man as he constantly barked orders and decided what was to be done with him. If he was ever hurt, it was because of this man. "Make me a better pistol."
He nodded. He didn't want to be drowned again, he didn't want to go back under the water. If they wanted a gun they could have it.
"You sure he doesn't need more convincing, Harris?" A woman asked. The man, the one in charge of everything, just shook his head.
"That won't be needed. He seems willing to cooperate now." He said.
They let him walk instead of dragging him down the hall towards the large workshop. He was directed towards a chair in the center of the room and forced to sit. Paper was laid out in front of him. No one said anything, he just picked up the closest pencil and began to work.
He could make the gun lighter, easier to fire, better. Then maybe Harris, the man in charge of his fate, would show a bit of mercy.
...
He had spent days in that workshop, drawing up different sets of plans until he was certain it was perfect. They had given him everything he asked for and didn't touch him. It was as good as it would ever get.
He liked to build. He liked the feel of his fingers moving over metal and forming it into something useful.
He finished the pistol and as Harris looked it over carefully he ordered him to start upgrading all the weapons. He was half tempted to say 'no' again. He had made the pistol, it was perfect, and that's all he was told he had to do. But he didn't want to be drowned again, he didn't want his numerous healing cuts and burns to be torn open again, he just wanted to be okay.
He nodded, starting to draw up ideas to make the rifles better, how to make the blades sharper, how to make their missiles more precise and deadly. He hated every minute of it. Occasionally he would look over to the computers or microwaves near the relaxing technicians or even the lights hanging from the ceiling and think of thousands of ways to make them better.
He wanted to improve those things, not new weapons that were dropped in front of him whenever he finished with one.
He would work all day and then be lead back to his cell at the end of the day. He ate when he woke up and before he went to sleep. This went on for weeks until they decided it was time to test his weapons.
The man they brought in was tall, muscular, and a shiny metal arm hung to his left shoulder. He didn't look over to him but he watched him from the corner of his eye as he wondered about the circuitry the must have hid beneath the metal plates.
A technician dropped the box of materials he had requested down in front of him. It wasn't his place to look at him, to wonder what they would do with his weapons. His job was to build.
A shot rang out through the workshop as a bullet tore through the target that was set up off to the side. It sounded right. The gun was firing as it should.
An arm snaked its way around his waist and lifted him into the air. That was bad. It worked, he made it perfectly, he didn't understand why he was about to be punished. The man had dragged him into a corner, pulling several carts full of different tools and shelves covered in building materials around them. He took a metal fist and he barely had time to flinch back swung down, crashed through the carts, and embedded itself into the floor.
He remained still, waiting for punishment. He didn't move as the man's flesh hand reached up slowly to stroke his cheek.
"Tony, we're okay. You don't remember, but we're okay. Don't worry, I'm going to take care of you." The man said. He continued not to move as the man spoke quickly about things he didn't understand. "In a little while they won't be able to hurt you anymore. They're coming to get us."
He was confused. No one was looking for him, everyone he knew was right here. His whole world was kept in these small, concrete rooms and halls.
"Who?" He asked slowly.
The man frowned and leaned forward slightly. He looked sad and desperate but before he could say anything a dart shot down from above and landed on the man's shoulder.
He was pulled tightly into the man's chest, arms wrapping around his back. He felt warm and safe as he was pressed gently against the wall and the metal armed stranger fell asleep over him.
The carts were yanked out of the way, pulling the man off of him as the movement yanked at his arm. He stayed completely still as technicians and agents he hadn't seen before moved forward and dragged the man away.
Harris dropped down in front of him and grabbed him by the hair. He was dragged back to the middle of the room and forced back down into the chair he had been in just moments before.
"What did he say to you?" Harris hissed as he kept a firm grip on his head.
He shook his head quickly. He didn't want to tell him what the man had said. Those words seemed special, they were his. The man had dragged him into a corner to tell only him those words.
Harris yanked on his hair forcefully. "He didn't say anything to you?"
He shook his head again. He didn't think he would be able to lie if he opened his mouth to speak and he didn't want to tell Harris his secrets. Silence was the better option.
His handler nodded, releasing his head.
The man said some really important things that kept flowing through his head. He had called him 'Tony'. Tony.
...
They called him the Winter Soldier. He heard the technicians, who had returned to their spot in the corner and relaxed, speak about him. He wasn't allowed to move, wasn't even allowed to build or fix anything. He was supposed to stay exactly where he was as they dealt with the soldier.
Eventually Harris came to retrieve him. He was told to follow and he remained silent as he was led down numerous halls and into a room he hadn't been in before. The soldier was lying unconscious in a chair and breathed heavily. Large equipment hung from the ceiling and was bolted to the floor just behind him.
"You're to learn how to repair the prosthetic." Harris said quickly. "You must be getting bored with the weapons and you've always excelled in this sort of thing."
He didn't say anything, just looked over the man's sleeping form. His face seemed calm as he slept and his laid lifeless at his side. He didn't notice Harris leave and he didn't address the soldier's handler sitting in the corner.
A technician waved him forward, pulling open one of the metal plates that covered the arm. He didn't listen to the technician try to explain anything. He could clearly see what was damaged from its impact through the cart and into the concrete floor.
He picked up his tools and began to fix it. The arm was fused directly into the soldier's torso so if he misplaced a wire it could electrocute him. He was as gentle as possible as he moved the thin tools through the exposed inner circuitry.
He looked up and saw the soldier looking at him. He didn't appear to be in any pain from the replacement of wires and repair of the metal on his arm, cool blue eyes staring down at him.
Winter indeed, He thought to himself as he stared into those eyes. He gave him a small smile and returned to his work. He thought he should say something, thank him for his promise to take care of him, compliment his eyes, introduce himself, but nothing came to mind.
Tony, He though as he recalled their short discussion. I am Tony.
...
The soldier, Winter as Tony had begun calling him in his head, didn't try to speak to him again after that. He did seem him several times, usually in passing. While he was walking to and from his cell every morning and night he would see him in a large training room, fighting with several other soldiers or testing the weapons he had built.
Sometimes Winter came to him. He would always sneak into the workshop and drop rolls or small pieces of fruit and then leave before anyone noticed he was there. It had become a regular occurrence and Tony would smile every time he came in. Winter was his only friend in the world.
There were times every few weeks when he stopped coming. During those times Tony would pass him in the halls and smile but Winter would pass by without so much as glancing at him. A few days later he would be back though, sneaking him food.
He wasn't as stupid and mindless as Harris and the technicians liked to think he was. He knew what was happening. He knew why Winter forgot about him every few weeks. It was probably the same reason he couldn't remember anything beyond a few months ago.
Tony was okay. He had a friend he never spoke to and the beatings were less often. Things were going to be just fine.
...
There were soldiers, or agents but Tony was never sure what to call them, standing in the doorway. They were staring at him, the ones who he had seen training with Winter those few times he passed by that room. They watched him work as he was elbow deep in a long range missile.
Tony wanted them to leave. They made him uncomfortable as they stared at him, muttering and laughing. They were dangerous. He didn't want them here.
He didn't look directly at them but he saw from the corner of his eye as one of the agents walked across the room to the technicians. He tried to focus on his work on the conversation between the one agent and the technicians grew loud as they laughed.
Tony's attention was divided between the soldier talking with the technicians and the large missile in parts around him. He didn't notice the remaining two agents walk up to him until they had their hands around his shoulders and were dragging him away from his workbench.
The other agent was back and the three of them backed Tony into the wall. They grabbed his hands and pinned him to the wall. One of the agents stepped up close to him, their faces inches apart.
"Go ahead and scream, little scientist. No one is going to come help you." The agent said. He reached up and gripped onto Tony's jaw, squeezing hard enough to bruise. "You know why no one is going to help you? Because you're broken and lost and you belong to us now. You belong to HYDRA. No one else wants you."
Tony whined and pulled against his arms. The agents were stronger than him, held him tightly and he couldn't get away. The man in front of him kept a firm grip on his jaw as his other hand wandered lower to land on his hip and squeezed there too.
"The saddest thing is, you don't even know how pathetic you've become. The high and mighty Iron Man turned into a worthless, insignificant little mechanic that does everything he's told." The agent whispered.
All three of the agents were yanked back and Tony slid to the ground. He squeezed his eyes closed and slid to the ground. He was stupid, they were going to hurt him and there was nothing he could do about it.
He ducked his head lower when a hand gentle touched the top of his head. Tony pulled his knees up close to him and buried his face. The hand stayed, gently stroking his hair as someone hummed next to him.
He lifted his head slightly to look at whoever was comforting him. Winter, his only friend, crouched down next to him. One had was gently running through his hair while the other held a small handful of tiny tomatoes. The three agents who had been attacking him were on their backs a few feet away, unconscious. The technicians were huddled in the corner, looking at the two of the cautiously.
Tony reached out and took the tomatoes, smiling softly. Winter smiled back at him. They both looked at each other for just a few seconds before dart hit the side of his neck and he fell to the ground next to Tony.
Harris and several other men and women walked into the room. The frowned as they stopped over Winter's unconscious form.
"What happened?" Harris asked him. Tony shook his head. He sighed and turned to look at the technicians.
"The agents attacked him." One of the technicians said as he nodded in Tony's direction. "We told them not to, that he was working, but they insisted."
One of the men kneeling over Winter stood up and sighed. "He should know better than to attack agents, regardless of what they're doing." He said. Several other agents lifted Winter up and started to drag him away. "We'll wipe him and get him prepped for his mission."
Tony watched as they all left. Harris continued to stand over him, frowning down at him. "Get back to work." He said.
Tony nodded and returned to his work. The missile was still lying in pieces on the table and he immediately picked up his tools. Everyone went back to ignoring him and he still had the small handful of tomatoes. He looked back at the now clear door and frowned as he plopped one into his mouth.
...
Tony couldn't sleep. Winter had come back from his mission, rushed right up to him, and pulled him close.
"It's okay, Tony. I'm not going to hurt you." Winter whispered softly. "We're going to be okay. They're coming to get us."
Tony wanted to ask who was coming to get them and where they would go but he had turned and disappeared. He looked back at the technicians, whose job these days were simply making sure Tony didn't do anything he wasn't supposed to do, but none of them looked at him.
He didn't want to ask them who was coming, he didn't want to speak to any of these people. If Winter said they would be okay, then he believed him.
...
The man in the bright colored uniform spoke to him gently, never came too close but instead left his cell door wide open and asked him softly to come out. Tony had been following orders for as long as he could remember and being told to leave his room wasn't a problem for him.
A woman with red hair was there too. She stayed a short distance away from him, leading him down a hall. The man in the bright uniform followed behind him. They were guiding him to a part of the building he had never been allowed to go. They had told him to follow though, so he did.
It was strange when they finally made it outside. The sky was dark with thousands of twinkling stars and the sudden absence of dozens of florescent lights forced him to squint to see anything. The world was big, much larger than the few rooms and hallways he had known.
He was asked to stay as they climbed into a waiting jet to get everything ready. Tony looked around, he couldn't see Harris anywhere. He couldn't see any HYDRA agents. Except for Winter, who had appeared quietly next to him. Tony smiled at him, Winter smiled back.
They sat together on the jet. Tony sat in a corner and Winter squeezed in next to him. It was nice. They were leaving, they had come for them just like he said.
Tony stared out the window as they flew away. The ground gradually grew small and soared past. It was all so large and the sky went on forever. Tony hadn't thought about the world outside before, but it was incredible.
They gradually entered the city and flew smoothly between each tall building. Tony looked at each one they passed.
"That one's yours." The red haired woman had told him, Natasha. "You build it."
Tony looked at where she was pointing. A large building with a letter 'A' on the side was what she was gesturing to and where they were going. Tony frowned. The entire building was his, he had built it, but he didn't remember.
As soon as they landed they passed him off to a doctor. They told Tony to go with him so he went without complaint, relieved to see Winter following him quickly. The doctor ordered him to sit down and remove his shirt, so he did. He remained as completely still as possible as the doctors fingers gentle ran over the bruises on his jaw and hip. He poked at a few scars, ignoring the large, circular one at the center of his chest.
"Do you remember anything, Bucky?" The doctor asked, turning towards Winter. Tony looked between them slowly. Winter's name must have been 'Bucky' because he shook his head to answer the doctor. "So you don't know what happened to the two of you?"
Winter's name was 'Bucky'. Tony smiled to himself. That was a nice name. He liked it, it seemed fitting. Bucky knew the doctor, so the doctor was probably safe.
"I hurt him. They ordered me to and I did it without hesitation." Bucky said. Tony's smile dropped as he looked over to him. Winter had never hurt him before, he wouldn't do that.
"I don't think he blames you." The doctor said.
"He doesn't. He told me he didn't." Bucky said quietly. "I ripped out his tooth. I bound his hands and burnt him until he screamed and begged for me to stop."
Tony poked his tongue into the long healed space between his teeth. That was before he forgot everything. Why had Bucky hurt him?
The doctor turned away and sighed. "You remember doing that."
"I'm remembering some things." Bucky said. Tony looked back at him. He wasn't angry, he didn't remember it, didn't remember Winter hurting him or asking for it to stop. Bucky promised to take care of him, and he had.
"Is Tony remembering anything?" The doctor asked. He looked Tony over carefully. "Do you remember me Tony? It's Bruce, we're friends. You keep buying me yoga dvds as a joke."
The doctor, Bruce, spoke softly and gently. Tony didn't say anything, just looked back to Bucky. He didn't remember. He didn't remember Bucky hurting him or calling Bruce his friend or building this tower. He didn't remember anything.
No one pressed the issue. Instead Bruce moved on, asking him to lie down in an MRI machine and stay as still as possible. Tony did as he was told.
...
The team was careful not to order Tony to do anything. They didn't walk too close to him, didn't reach out to him, and only ever spoke to him to ask how he was doing. If they did come too close he would stop moving completely. If their hands came too close he would look away and hope they would ignore him and not hit him for everything he was probably doing wrong. If they spoke to him he wouldn't answer.
Bucky was always there, making sure he ate or was comfortable. They walked together around the tower. Bucky made sure he was safe. Tony love him for that.
He was happy though, when he had met Pepper. She walked into the living room he and Bucky were watching old tapes in and walked right up to Tony. He wasn't afraid, which had been the first time he had ever felt that way when confronted by a stranger. She dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled his head forward to rest on her shoulder as she stroked his hair and cried.
"Welcome back, you huge idiot." She whispered to him. "Don't ever scare me like that again."
He wanted to say one of the hundreds of funny or witty replies that filtered through his mind. Instead he remained silent. Words weren't important right now, he had nothing important to say. He reached forward slowly to grip her shoulders and hold her close.
The rest of the team gradually became less frightening as they spent more time together and they never hurt him.
...
"The damage is in a very small, very focused area." Bruce said as he was explaining the results of their MRIs. He looked over to Bucky as he spoke. "While you'll regain most of your memories, he probably won't."
"Is that why he isn't talking?" Pepper asked.
"No, he should be able to speak just fine. He just isn't." Bruce said slowly.
Tony frowned. He never thought of him not speaking as an issue, it was just something he didn't feel the need to do. But they thought it was a problem. Pepper was worried about his silence and Bruce thought there was something wrong enough to check his brain for it.
Was he broken? Was his tendency to find comfort in not speaking a visible sign of his damage? He reached out and squeezed Bucky's hand. The man immediately stood up and led him from the room, dragging him to Tony's favorite spot next to the large windows. He could see the whole city from this spot, watch as the sky went on forever.
Bucky spoke all the time, sometimes if he had something he needed to say it was hard to get him to stop talking. Tony just didn't think he needed to. HYDRA had always been constant questioning and Tony never knew the answers, silence was safest. No one there had even looked at him, much less tried to start a conversation with him. Silence had become habitual.
"I can talk." He whispered. He hadn't spoken in so long it felt weird to break his silence.
Bucky nodded. "I assumed you could."
...
They had slept in the same room that night. Bucky curled over Tony's sleeping form and snored loudly. They were both fast asleep, exhaustion from all the stress of the past few months had worn them down until they felt like they couldn't go on much further. This was the deepest either of them had slept for as long as either one could remember.
Bucky twitched. Tony opened his eyes at the slight movement, frowning slightly. Bucky twitched again and whimpered.
Tony was wide awake in seconds, pulling his arms up to wrap around Bucky's trembling back and stroked his hair.
"It's okay, Bucky. We're safe now." Tony repeated quietly. "You said we would be okay and we are. We're not with them anymore. We're safe."
Tony wasn't sure when Bucky had woken up, but he was still shaking as he sat up and pulled Tony into his arms. Tony wasn't sure what had scared him, what nightmare had slithered into his thoughts, but Tony held him close.
Bucky was crying. He wasn't making a sound but his chest heaved in violent sobs and Tony could feel the tears drop against his shoulder.
"It's okay, Buck. We're okay." He whispered. Bucky nodded.
He wasn't sure how long he had been repeating those few phrases. He told Bucky that they were safe and okay over and over until the man calmed down and took several deep breaths.
"Do you remembered when they attacked me and you saved me? You stroked my hair and gave me tomatoes." Tony whispered. Bucky shook his head.
"No, I don't remember." He said. "I don't remember a lot of things about the time we spent there."
"Don't worry. I remember all of it. You were amazing and brave and I wouldn't have made it without you." Tony said. He could feel Bucky smile against his shoulder. "I love you."
Bucky squeezed tighter. "I love you too."
Tony sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing. They would be okay. He may not know who he was before, but he knew who he was now. He loved Bucky, trusted Pepper, liked to build things, and he was going to be okay.