Fortune of A Broken Man - Avengers fanfiction | James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes-centric | #2 in the Wretched Adrenaline series

Word Count: 2,340
Chapters: 02/50
Status: Finished prior to publishing

Trigger warnings: Vulgarity / allusion to schizophrenia / mentions and explorations of mental illness / war and PTSD


2: Girl

The door slid open with a hiss, permitting a perfectly sculpted blond man entrance.

This must be Steve Rogers, Lizbeth thought.

"Hi, Miss Burke?" he said, smiling warmly. She saw through it, though. He was tense and distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hey, man," she replied, offering her hand. "Yep, I'm Lizbet Burke, and soon enough you'll have Barnes back to being your friend."

He took the proffered hand and shook with a strong grip. "Right," he said, unsure of what else to say.

"I called you up here because I'm going to require your assistance in establishing Barnes surrounds to him."

The Captain shifted wearily, "I'm sorry, Miss Burke, but I don't know what I can do to help him. He's so.."

"So lost," she said, nodding. Turning towards the window before them, she beckoned him over. He moved to stand beside her cautiously.

"I know that this is going to be very painful for you," she said quietly, eyes locking onto his, "But whatever pain you will feel during this process, is the equivalent to what Barnes will feel as a sense of relief."

He shook his head with well-disguised grief, "I don't understand."

Lizbeth gave her toothpick another crunch, internally laughing at his discomfort in her presence. She would have to see him away from Barnes and fuck with him a little.

"Barnes is a very broken man, Mr Rogers. I'm sure you've seen that. But the extent to which it runs is immeasurable. He does not know who he is, where he is, and I doubt he knows the year or even his age. So what I want you to do is speak to him. The dossier," she said, looking around for the manila file she had discarded shortly before Fury had told her to get the hell out of his lab. It lay strewn on its side beside a leather couch set up for 'viewing'. Her lip curled at the thought. She snatched it up, and leafed through it, passing him a sheet of paper. "-states that Barnes recognised you once on the helicarrier, and then again when you tracked him with Mr Wilson to Bucharest. Is this correct?"

Rogers nodded tentatively, still scrutinising her with his pearl blue eyes.

"Would you mind telling me what you said to him that could have jogged his memory?"

Rogers shifted on his feet and turned back to face Barnes prone form. He stayed silent for some time, allowing Lizbeth to drink in his body language.

He shook his head mutely. "I.."

Lizbeth reached up to his considerable height and patted him on the shoulder, "It's alright, Captain, take your time. We're in no rush. How about you have a seat?" she said, falling onto the couch with a thump and patting the cushion beside her. "How about some coffee?"

He stared at her with an unreadable expression.

Settling into Tony's overpriced but overly comfy couch, she stared back. Black met blue in a dead quiet staring contest.

He cracked, licking his lips before he spoke. "Why are you here?"

"That's a stupid question, Rogers."

He frowned, irritated. "I'm asking you why you're the person Fury has hired."

"You don't trust his judgement, Cap?"

He stayed mute, unwilling to disagree with his superior, nor voice his true objections. She sighed. Part in parcel of job detailed dealing with some of the most difficult people on the planet.

"I understand," she offered dryly, "I've been entrusted with the wellbeing of your oldest friend. That hits a nerve because of what he's been through. You don't know me, or anything about me, and I could singlehandedly fuck him up even more. Correct?"

He flinched at her use of language, but nodded with a strained face, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Your file tells me nothing more than you're a shrink who Stark likes."

"I think like is an overstatement, but sure. Has Tony told you much about his time prior to the Avengers?"

The Captain scoffed, "Stark and I don't really talk, Mss Burke."

She filed that away for later. "Right. Well, what do you know about him?"

"Let's see- genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Sound familiar?"

"Not much, then," she replied with a hint of amusement. "You're going to have to get to know him at some point. After all, you live in his tower. Anyway, Tony isn't a horrible as you think he is. He has his own issues, and he's been through his fair share of torture. Pepper hired me some years back, and Tony appreciated the work we accomplished together. He'd be a lot worse now if it weren't for me."

Rogers raised his eyesbrows, as though to question her self-assured manner.

"We both know you could end me before I could say a word, Cap. I'm not going to hurt your friend. It's not professional."

"That's what you think of me?" he bit out harshly, "That's I'd end you for not doing your job properly?"

She hummed, "Not necessarily. But I'm aware of the lengths you'll go to in order to protect those you love."

If it were possible, Steve Rogers seemed even more irritated than before.

"Look, what exatctly do you want me to do?"

She smiled. "When he wakes up, I want you to be in the room. He will recognise you, and if it goes badly, you won't die. Unlike previously," she muttered angrily. "He'll be awake in, oh, five or so minutes? Whadda ya say?"

Rogers didn't want to say anything, but he'd do almost anything for James Barnes. "Alright," he said stifly.

Lizbeth stood abruptly, clapping her hands, "Great! I'll open the door and you can take a seat across from him. Or stand, if you like. I'll be able to hear you, and you'll be able to hear me, but neither of you will be able to see me." She rapped her knuckles on the window, "It's a mirror. Supposedly."


When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was a blond man sat resolutely across from him. Blue eyes met in silence. He looked familiar... very familiar. James made to move but found himself tightly restrained.

"Bucky?" The other man said cautiously. James stared at him.

"..yeah," he rasped, shaken. "...Steve?"

Steve Rogers let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Bucky," he repeated, almost breathlessly. "You know who I am?"

He nodded back, swallowing. "Yeah, I... I rem-" Steve cut him off with a raised hand, quickly moving to his side.

"Here, drink." Steve demanded gently, bringing a cool glass cup to the man's parched lips. As much as he felt pathetic, and somewhat emasculated, he drank greedily, thankful for the relief.

Placing the cup down, Steve stared at him deeply, scrutinising the soldier restrained like a dog.

"You're in a secure facility, Buck," Steve said quietly, "Nobody can hurt you here."

James stared back, his mind frayed and confused. "How long?"

Steve sighed, "A week and a half."

His mind swirled. The last thing he could clearly recall was Bucharest, and then there were vague moments of a black man.. Challa, or something like that. As his memories tried to worm themselves back into his conscious, Steve cleared his throat.

"What do you remember?"

James shook his head slowly, as much as he could with the thick strap nearly strangling him. "I don't know," he murmured. "I remember Bucharest.. those people.. and I remember the stairwell. Everything else is a blur. What happened?"

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but it just felt foreign, and strange. "It's a long story, Buck.. We're going to help you recover your memories. But just rest, okay? You are safe. I'm not going anywhere."

James tried to relax, but with each moment that passed, he grew more and more tense. "Where are we?"

"New York. After Bucharest, we were in Wakanda, but you've been brought back to America for rehabilitation."

He tensed fully at Steve's words.

"Not that kind of rehabilitation," Steve said quickly, growing worried. "You're not going to be used, Buck."

He wanted to laugh at that. Also a foreign feeling. For them to not be used was an entirely stale idea. Of course, he wasn't sure why, but knew HYDRA used him. Forced him. And Steve was certainly still on active duty.

There was a buzz, which had him stilling to a statue.

"Mr Rogers, can you try to prompt Mr Barnes memory on who he is?"

Steve's eyes slid shut with a hearty sigh. He mumbled some unintelligible. Clearing his throat, he looked up at James.

"You heard the woman," he said tersely. "Do you know who you are?"

"Who is that?" He replied quickly, eyes darting to the two-way mirror on the wall.

"Miss Burke," Steve replied, shaking his head. "She's here to help you regain your memories. Ignore her."

James couldn't do that. Both of them knew that. As a trained assassin, he couldn't ignore anyone. He could pretend, but his senses would still analyze their intentions. James stared searchingly into Steve's eyes, silently questioning if he could trust her. Almost imperceivably, Steve hesitated, but Lizbeth was the only one to pick up on it. Steve nodded.

James cleared his throat, thinking over how he could answer without giving this hidden woman information for blackmail.

"My name is James Barnes," he replied, almost a question. "We were.. soldiers.. commandos..?"

Steve nodded encouragingly, eyes searching him with hope. "The Howling Commandos."

"You were the leader... Captain.. we grew up together, didn't we?"

Steve looked like he wanted to cry. Almost. "In Brooklyn. You used to call me punk.'

That jogged his memory. It came rushing back like a kick to the head. A small boy, almost hilariously short for his age. Scrawny. Sickly, even. But defiant.

"You were, Steve," he choked, trying to come to terms with this sudden past he didn't feel was truly his. It hurt. It stung. The information was so abrupt, it quickly began to overwhelm him. "Scrawny and always looking for a fight. A damn death wish."

They both went silent. Steve quietly disgesting that, perhaps, his hopes were not truly unfounded, and maybe Bucky would be whole again. And James because he didn't know what he didn't know. He'd been awake for only moments it felt, but his mind was racing, trying to comprehend where reality met conditioning. It was too much.

The buzz rang out again. "That's enough for today, Mr Rogers. You may release him from his restraints," Lizbeth's disembodied voice spoke. "Mr Barnes, Mr Rogers will return soon with a dinner for you, and a sleeping aid, if you are amiable. You are under no obligation to consume either."


Steve stepped back into the hall, and moved around the corner to face Lizbeth, wno stood with a ring binder in hand. He looked worn, and aged, but infuriatingly enough, he still retained an almost perfect composure.

She smiled at him softly. "That went well," she said, dropping the binder to the couch. "You did well, Mr Rogers."

He nodded to her, but his eyes didn't focus.

"If it isn't too much to ask, would you prepare Mr Barnes a meal he favored when you were young? I could do it, but you have the knowledge of a proper 40's meal."

He shook his head quickly, "No, I'll do it."

Lizbeth smiled again. "Soon, preferably. When you serve it to him, don't try to force the sleeping pill on him, but suggest it. Oherwise he won't sleep at all."

Once Steve had departed, Lizbeth turned back to Barnes to find him pacing in front of his cot. Somebody has placed a tacky Captain America blanket on it with matching pillows. She fought the urge to facepalm.

"That won't seem suspicious at all," she sighed.

Barnes knew she knew, that he knew she was watching him. The air was silent bar the soft static of the AC, and Barnes calculated and even foot steps. He stood tall, but hunched, with pinched features and a growing tension between his shoulder blades. Lizbeth wondered what he would do if she just... left his door unlocked. Not that she would.

He wouldn't take the sleeping pill. He'd be stupid to. She wouldn't take it, either. It could be cyanide for all he knew. But by introducing the concept, he would eventually allow himself a full nights sleep. She bet herself it would be no less than three weeks, and no more than six.

The food was necessary. He'd die in a few days if he didn't. So far he had only been fed by IV, and that was only giving him nutrients. Without fat and carbs, he'd lost approximately ten pounds over the last week. And prior to that, Dr Cho had estimated he'd been nearly eight days without food.

The wonders of super serum.

With whatever depression-era food Steve cooked up, Barnes would likely experience another torrent of memories. Taste and smell are the two most powerful senses closely following hearing and touch, and with his enhanced everything, it would certainly remind him of his past.

So far he seemed to recall his name, and snippets of his past. Likely a recollection of childhood or teenage memories, and most probably only those featuring Steve. What was most important were the foundations of her person; his formative years and his service to America. Those pertaining to HYDRA would be addressed at a later date, when Barnes broached the subject himself. She was weary of doing it before he had a grounded sense of person, lest she trigger an appearance of the Winter Soldier. In fact, she stil didn't know he exact words used to activate his split personalities.

Lizbeth chewed on a new toothpick. This would be an interesting test of endurance on his part.


A/N: Well there you go, a second chapter for the second day of publishing. The next two chapters are of the same pace, until the end of chapter 4, which is when things begin to bubble and brew.