Chapter 16
The landscape was devoid of life. It had been barren and cold, high peaks of snow top mountains shrouded over the icy passageways, and the sky was a canvas of pitch black mixed with tints of navy blue.
There were no specks of light, no stars just cascades of snowflakes falling over the frozen ground as if white curtains covered the land. Familiarity took hold of him, as he trudged against the whirling tempest, his heavy boots sank in the snow, as he staggered to push onward. There had been a dense sense of sickening memories filtering in his butchered mind; he refused to allow those images of crimson to consume his mind. He was on a mission and his objective was to find a simple item in the snow.
Calculating his strides, he took a deep breath, allowing the frigid air to bury his lungs, and blinked the watery film out of his pale blue eyes, scanning the area for something his heart knew that he wouldn't find. There in the division of the squalls of wispy snow, he found a lanky figure stumbling, it was a boy, small stature, frail and sickly. He was wearing a tattered light brown jacket, and frayed trousers. His face was angular and thinned, but his crystal blue eyes held so much strength as he turned around and looked at the Winter Solider, gentle unafraid and welcoming.
Fear had been absent in his eyes, as he coughed out a few strangled words, "I'm cold Bucky,.." He looked straight forward, searching for an escape. His lips trembled as he stepped closer. "Help me… Bucky." He lifted up his small hand, revealing a shimmering chain with dog tags, and placed it into the gloved palm of the Winter Soldier. "Bucky…"
The Soldier narrowed his dismal eyes, translating the engravings on the steel plates : James Buchanan Barnes-Sergeant 32557-107 Infantry.
His eyes swelled with vehemence, "James Barnes?" he whispered in riven voice, blinking the clusters of snow building against his eyelashes. His hands trembled as cold seared in his veins, trying the skin of his knuckles white. The fact that it hurt so much to remember a name, caused distress to build over his heart. The fact that he didn't want to acknowledge the axiom of truth made his stomach churn. He held the dog tags in the clutch of his metal hand, squeezing the chain against the chrome digits, and set his jaw down hard.
"Do you remember me, Buck?" the boy whispered, timidly. "You know me. You know who I am."
His ghostly pale blue glinted in the haze of faint moonlight. He was shaking, driven by alarming terror, and confusion. He still didn't know how to respond to his phantoms. Who he was underneath flesh, bone and metal. He felt lost inside a hollow vessel. "I don't know…" He struggled to answer the shivering blonde haired boy fading into the whirls of snowfall. He felt like his emotions were disarmed, heart pounded until an dull ache penetrated through the bones of his thorax. "Don't go away," he spoke in a even breath, trying to gain his stern composer. His hand extended, trying to reach the boy. "I don't want you to become lost…"
"You'll find me again, Bucky." The boy spoke in a whisper and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He slowly walked away.
"No…" the Winter Soldier called out in a shrilling voice of desperation, but he felt frozen to the ground to follow, and he felt the ice threatening to crack underneath his combat boots. He was alone once more, fighting against the relentless bite of winter's breath all while it harbored him to step forward, and enter the violent tempest. "Come back…"
He woke up in a startling breath, his blue eyes widened. Grasping his scattered thoughts, he forced himself to listen to the reprimanding words of a small voice lulling him back into reality,
"Mister, Sir! Are you okay?"
Splotches of decaying images of red crawled across his vision. Bubbling under heat of unwashed tears and tainting his rugged cheeks with lines of clear moisture. The Winter Soldier's body reeked of feverish sweat as he became aware of the pain that still resided in his body.
Fragments of images left him in a dormant state and he leaned against the cement column-muscles tensed as he held pressure there for a long moment until he transition into true consciousness. The burst of white hot pain blazed in his pounding skull had dulled into a subdued throbbing that reached his jawline. Freezing and tightening the bones in his face with a numbing ache that ceased to stop if his body protested against it.
"I'm fine…"
He jerked into a pliant stance, metal fist clenched and pale blue eyes snapped open with fever haze. The trauma of re-triggered memories had taken its toll over his mind-turning his thoughts into ravage emotions as the sensation of familiarity rippled through his muscled body. It was all around him. He wasn't huddled in the corner of the dull bunk room, or bounded to a bed post with handcuffs clasped over his right wrist. His head was still cloudy, memories seemed to lie in empty spaces, everything was creeping back inside of him. He had lost track of …Days…weeks and months. It was beginning to feel like years had betrayed him.
The Winter Soldier blinked the shooting pain of molten red out of his glistened eyes, and then he took an alarming step backwards. His unnerved gaze fell at the child tugging on his leather sleeve. He timidly took an dependent step closer to the lockers. He could deduced a few things of his new surroundings. Unbidden Words failed against his tongue. "What?" the assassin questioned monotonously.
Breathing heavily, the boy looked around, frantically. "I remember my grandfather bringing me here…Telling me something important…" His voice dimmed as he pointed a shaking hand to the tried to avoid the the icy glare of the half robotic, half monstrous hybrid of a man-a mess of emotional and hazardous relapses. "I don't know much…"
The Winter Soldier gave him an short, and responsive nod and quietly stole closer to the lockers. He parted his firm lips, "Do you remember if your guardian…I mean grandfather used one of these lockers?" he asked and seized the opportunity to ram his metal fist into the metal surface. The child tugged once again on his sleeve. "What?" he growled in a fierce and abrasive tone, his eyes became blue daggers under the mussed hair. He couldn't believe that he was disobeying orders after he broke the transmitter tracking device attached on his SIG-Sauer P226 pistol and flew halfway across the world with a stranger and searching for a ghost of his past.
The boy pointed to the number lock, "I remember a code. It's date of Independence Day…I think it was Captain America's birthday?"
His brow furrowed confusingly and his lips twitched as the name hummed in his ears.
Captain America.
Biting his lip, he shoved the boy away, and pressed the numbers …07…04…1…7…7…6…
Listening, to the pattering sound of metal grinding against his temple. He felt slightly taken aback and wasn't sure what to do, but he found tattered card board box stored inside with the letters J.B.B. branded on the dented cover.
Warm tears had started building in his eyes as he swiped his leather sleeve against his face. "I remember this box.." he whispered in a faint breath. The world around him seemed to grew dim. He slammed his fist against the locker, denting the steel before he tucked his knees close to his chest, and sunk his head down obstinately.
Long, and straggly brown strands cascaded over his face as he trembled in shock and tried to regain back his memories. He felt his stomach churn as waves of spiraling bile struck him. He blinked, and chanced a look but the world was a veiled blur from the tears coating in his tortured eyes. Blink, and the grayness of wintry darkness consumed his vision until he saw nothing just foggy shapes.
A hand emerged from the clouds of smoke, reaching out to help him stand back onto his feet.
"Bucky," Steve said, softly, quietly, and firm, like he was guiding him back home. " "Don't be afraid, soldier, take my hand."
"I can't," he whispered, sounding broken and timid. The obstruction of static in his mind swelled as he tore his glistening eyes away, and scoffed back, not accepting the hand. "You're not real…Just another deceive lie to weather down his soul. "Get away from me!" he snarled, feeling the blood pulse faster in his veins. His stomach clenched and twisted as he allowed cold words to rip out of his throat."You're not him…You're dead to me…"
Releasing a vicious growl, he drove his lips into his knee. His fingers weaved into his matted hair as dug pressure into his skull, and drew out sharp and ragged pants of breath against the material of his pants.
"Okay. Your Ma is coming, Stevie." A dark haired boy said as he wrapped his arm around the sickly child shivering against him. "It's going to be okay. I'm not going to you freeze out here alone." He stifled his lips into a smirk, looking down at Steve huddled in the warmth of his winter coat. The blonde haired boy placed his frail hand on his broad shoulder.
"Buck, get out here. Find a warm place." Steve protested in a wheeze, his cough rattled through his rib cage. It hurt so much tears flooded his light blue eyes. "I'm fine…My Ma is coming…"
Bucky rested his hand instantly on his friend's forehead, the temperature of the fever was spiking as he spoke to Steve. "Nah..I'm not leaving you, little punk. Now shut your trap and let me haul your stupid ass back to your place. You're not heavy…" He remarked, stroking his hand over the ruffled locks of drenched blonde hair sticking on Steve's brow. He renounced the concerned emotion that netted within his heart. He held his hand gently at the center of Steve's narrow chest, and whispered. "I can carry you back home…"
The pit dread that was forming his stomach began to grow until it enveloped his entire torso. He gnashed his teeth into the bone of his knee once he felt the constricting pain squeeze his insides and tear everything apart. He wasn't used to having a flood of memory reemerge in his altered mind, it was strange and frightening for him to react to the different emotions pouring out of his system. He felt sick, and blinked away the images penetrating deep inside his subconscious that grew more intense each passing moment.
James Buchanan Barnes.
The boy picked up the box, inspecting the initials engraved on the tin. "Is this your name?"
"I don't know," He whispered scratchily, keeping his eyes lowered and heaved out a deep sigh. His lips forged a broken frown. "If I could remember I would tell you, kid, but, I can't…"
"My grandfather told me about you, that is why I'm not afraid to talk you.." The boy settled down next to the Winter Soldier. Indignantly, he spoke up with brave cadence in his voice. He was defiant against the paralyzing fear emitting from his new guardian's ominous gaze. "Grandfather said that you were his good friend and that I have no reason to fear you because a good soldier never harms a child. He protects."
"You've got guts, kid, I'll give that," He replied hoarsely, trying to pull his lips into a smirk. "You mentioned that your grandfather lives around here? Can you tell me more information that way I know this mission wasn't a total waste of my time." He hissed out impatiently, as his dull blue eyes watched the boy playing with the dog tags. "Hey, that's not a toy." he gritted.
The boy shrugged, and continued twirling the necklace around his finger. He gazed up at the Winter Soldier, with his bright and mischievous eyes. "Why do you care, it doesn't belong to you…" He teased, dramatically tipping his head against the assassin's shoulder. "Or does it?"
Feeling the boy's breath on his sleeve, Winter Soldier, stiffened his edgy posture, his unshaven jaw became rigid as he leveled his blue eyes down at the child with fierce intent."When I brought you, here, I expected silence." He withheld a deep a growl, biting on his tongue, but the tension was nagging him. "I don't know if it belongs to me…It is important. So don't wreck it, kid."
"Yes, sir.." Permitted by the growl in his voice, the boy broke eye contact, and answered in German.
"I need to know your name. It's standard protocol during a mission." He requested in clear English, still staring at the dog tags.
"Yes, sir," Hesitantly, the child toddled an inch closer, and crossed his arms over his bony chest. Old memories of large and kind hearted American soldier with light blue eyes and a bowler hat wove into his brain-images of flames and classrooms surfaced as he clutched his small arms close to his bony ribs. The man was Dum Dum Dugan-A Howling Commando-his guardian. He remember his own name though the omissions and gaping holes torn from numerous tortures of isolation and darkness-Stephen. That was his name-His real existence. "My name is Stephen. That is all I can remember since Victor did something to me when I had been taken away from grandfather."
"Victor?" The Winter Soldier pulled a disheartened frown and benevolent gleam in his blue eyes and ingrained himself into questioning Stephen. "That is the name of the war criminal who abducted you?"
Stephen nodded, and rolled up his sleeve, revealed blemished skin with distant mark etched around the wrist. "Victor was a mean man…He locked me in closets and made me sleep in handcuffs so I -I wouldn't escape." he meekly answered in a tiny submissive voice, thinned lips trembling. "Victor worked for someone…A strange bald headed man with a beard. I think the man was Russian…I'm not sure because Victor put me in the closet during their conversions. After he put a needle in me and watched me cry…The man always left before I had a chance to get a good look." He sniffled, and dropped his head into his small hands.
"It wasn't your fault," The Winter Soldier gritted, a tearful snarl ripped out of his throat. He inspected his chrome fingers, looking at the lingering flecks of dried blood in nooks of the metal. "They used you to get power back into their hands." He resolved, caressing a brotherly touch over Stephen's scarred wrist. "You have freedom now to live out of the dark…"
"I don't know if I will see grandfather again, or if he even wants me," Stephen hesitated out a breath, and lowered his head, ashamedly down. "I did bad things when I was dreaming." He looked at the Winter Soldier with uncertain eyes, and swallowed down his sobs. "I played games with a gun and heard screams. When I woke up there was a lot of red."
"Your grandfather will understand," the Winter Soldier countered, voice baritone, soft. He messed up Stephan's blonde locks. He cleared his throat. "You did nothing wrong. Remember that, kid." He pressed his lips into firm line of harden anguish and felt the boy's head edge closer to his chest. He gave him a cocky smirk, it felt right to do -it was a comfort and reassurance. "I know what it feels like to fall asleep and wake up in a strange room…I've done it so many times it just keeps on repeating until…" His shadowy voice drifted away.
Creasing his eyebrows into a disquiet line, he leaned his tensed and rigid posture against the lockers. His body sunk to the ground holding the treasure closer as he inspected the hidden belongings with an automaton daze. He broke away from his focus for a second, turning his blue eyes back at Stephen before narrowing them down at the letters, photos, scraps of maps and tarnished dog tags. The steel plates had engravings of someones's name etched in the steel plating. He felt disjointed at the sudden exposure of truth that his wary eyes fell upon, suddenly empty, but not dead to the hellish memories of isolation and torture that gleamed in his darkened eyesight.
Flashes of vibrant red engulfed his mind...Pulling back into the place where tortured humanity became monsters overnight.
The Red Room.
