Chapter 18


Latvia, 1991

His dilated pale blue eyes sharpened against the dim glow of muted light. Numbness crept through his bones and muscles weaved with tension. He hearing was dulled by the sound of his heavy tactical boots thumping on the granite floor. With a growl, vicious and guttural, he pushed his way through the clusters of people standing in a huddle near the counter. Heart rate exceeded in his chest as he regained a sense of direction the moment Stephen's tiny hand tugged on his leather sleeve, and he felt himself reluctantly pulling closer to long bar. The intoxicating scent of coffee invaded his nostrils. It smelt rich and so familiar. His skull was pounding with trepidation as he reluctantly neared the row of bar stools. There became a gripping sense of dread-alarmed and unfocused he bashed his metal arm against the wood; and froze in unbalanced step.

"Grandfather!"

Unwilling to advance, he latched his piercing blue embers on the older man, Dum Dum Dugan sitting at the bar. "Stephen." His voice raised, with hearty and American dialect. He turned around, bluish-gray eyes brightened as he stared down at the boy springing up to him with a excited smile beaming over his face. In a matter of seconds they embraced into a tight bear hug. "It's good to see you, my boy." He smiled broadly, and then stroked his hand over Stephen's blonde locks, and lifted him up and onto a stool. "How did you find me?" he incredulously, looking into the boy's eyes.

Stephen bit down on his lip, and pointed a small hand at the Winter Soldier looming in the doorway. "He saved me, grandfather."

When Dugan settled his glazed eyes and stared into the familiar blue eyes filled with distraught and heartache, he couldn't stop that frown that commanded over his broad features aged with wrinkles. For the first time in sixty years he felt his heart clench in hollow bones of his chest. "Sergeant Barnes?" There was no response. He kept his distance, and stared at the emptied and murderous face of a phantom who carried the distant gaze of his forgotten friend. He didn't know why, but his chest hurt, and he wanted to avert his eyes.

Daring himself not to stare at the blank expression shrouding over the young man's chiseled face. "It's good to see you again, Buck." he said, thick mustache twitched across his upper lip. Composing himself, and ignoring the visible indications of a threat, Dugan placed his hands on the stained mahogany bar top while fighting to have dominance over HYDRA's programming. Deactivation was necessary during the prolonged moments of just staring at the lethal hybrid of precision, metal and blue eyes of Russia's ice-the Winter Soldier.

For a fraction of a second, Dugan froze under his shadow and he just stared in bewilderment and remorse at the man sitting next to him...James Barnes-Bucky…Steve's friend and blood brother.

"Do you remember me, Buck?"

He felt ragged and disheveled. His skin pallid and blemished from various amounts of torture. This wasn't the Bucky who served with her in the harsh winters. She took in his appearance. He wore black military pants which fitted snug against the trim muscled planes of his abdomen. A tattered leather jacket. Black with silver patches on the elbows. His once neatly groomed rakish hair was now a wolfish mane was fell into curtains along the sharp clench of his jaw. His chiseled and broad features carried no smoothness, just bristled and rigid skin. Finally the metal limb embedded into whatever flesh Zola had left on his shoulder. It reeked of HYDRA.

There was no response. No clarity of understanding dwelled in his deaden eyes.

The Winter Soldier clenched his jaw as those words resounded in his ears. He furrowed his eyebrows into a crease of confusion and unconsciously took a step forward. His metal hand slipped over the hostler strap attached to his pants. He felt the hostile nature taking over his whirling emotions. "Why did you call me, Bucky?" he seethed against gritted teeth. He tried to force the gray haze out of his mind. Images of a tall blonde haired soldier wearing red, white and blue slogged in his vision, inside a restricting low trek of detached memory. He blinked frantically, trying to regain stability in his body. Heaves of breath rattled against his ribs as he felt as if a cold bucket of water was being splashed over him. "Do you know me?" he asked, in a choking breath.

"Hell yeah, I've known you for a long time, Buck." Dugan replied as he looked into the soulless, and distant wintry blue chasms of the ghost staring him down. He sigh, and shook his head. He lurched forward, keeping his posture casual. "I'm Dum Dum Dugan. An old friend and tough gritted soldier who fought with you in the 107th infantry. You were the a sergeant of the Howling Commandos." he exclaimed, as a fond memory brought a faint smile over his face. "Boy, it was one hell of ride serving with Captain America."

"Captain America?" He repeated, his voice thick and low and aching with rawness. An exhausted thrum behind his hardened eyes that wouldn't avail, and he found himself staring down at the dog tags hanging out from one of his pockets. Dugan rested a hand over the metal plated shoulder, trying to put some form of ease back into him. "I remember a solider with blonde hair…" His words halted, and his throat grew swollen. It felt unclear to him, but somehow he knew that the name burying itself deep within whatever marred piece of organ HYDRA had left was a part of him. "I think I knew him..."

Keeping to himself at the bar against the haze of whiskey and amber glow of dimmed light Steve was there. The blonde haired soldier's sharp cheekbones and chiseled jawline set into a commanding semblance as he sipped his drink silently, taking in everything around him while preparing for the next mission. His inquisitive light blue eyes narrowed as he dropped his head down, a few loose blonde strands brushed over his forehead.

He sat on the stool, smiling to himself while listening to Howling Commandos in the background, clanging mugs and conversing about the previous rescue operation. They had stormed a fortress occupied by HYDRA. Now, they were enjoying their freedom, leaving the dread and stresses of the battlefront behind them-just living in the moment as friends and brothers. He looked up, and curved his lips into a gentle smile, "Bucky…"

"Steve,"he whispered out a breath of disbelief, his eyes snapped open, and lines of water made a slow trek down his face. Regardless, he felt the muscles in his chest tightened. With a quick movement, he buried his face into his shaking hands. His eyes closed, and he sat there, still like ice, but thawing. Thawing. A sob carried him away from Dugan, and and unsealed his lips, regaining traction of his thoughts as a graveled cry heated against her skin. "He carried a shield..."

Dugan nodded, not releasing his strong grip over the bionic shoulder. "Yeah, he carried more than that, Buck." Then, he turned his focus on Stephen, the boy was sitting at a table doodling on a napkin. "I want to thank you for saving my adopted grandson. He calls me his grandfather because of white rug I've got for hair." He crinkled his lips into a smile. "I found him back in Russian, after Peggy and I raided an old boarding school. There wasn't that many survivors, but this little guy...Well, let's just say he wanted to be saved." He sighed, and patted Stephen's hand for a moment, and then he felt his lips slack into a despondent frown. "His real name is Alexei, but I wanted to give him a chance to have a good life so I gave him a new name...I know he he can be a handful, but he is a good kid."

A deep and intense silence followed after a spike of blood flow surging within his veins; for the Winter Soldier, he felt trapped. Held captive with no way of escaping the dreadful fate he had been subjected to. Hearing Dugan's voice had become a calming against the storms clouding within his mind. He had to run. In a jerky movement, he leaned against the bar and stared at Stephen with darkened eyes. "The boy is from the Red Room?" he asked with a bitterness laced in his low voice. "Isn't he?"

"I wish I could say that your assumption wasn't true," Dugan sighed, lifting his mug of coffee, and took a sip. His spirit unraveled. "The boy was a part of a classified experiment documented on a ghost file. Those bastards did a lot of harm to him. Too much for his little body to handle." He tore his eyes away from his grandson. "The prime generals of KBG created a new science project containing lives of young boys. All of them blonde with blue eyes. When agents of SHIELD discovered the compound, all evidence was destroyed including the dozen of orphans subjected to that inhuman crap. I found Alexei strapped down into a chair with a lot of red fluid pumping into his arms. He was the strongest and the only boy that survived that damned horror show." He shifted uncomfortably, and noticed the tin boxed stuffed in the other man's jacket. "Enough about those days. You've got something you want to ask me, don't you, Buck?"

"This box..." The Winter Soldier said hoarsely. His throat clogged up, he felt timid. His breathing was harder than he could manage."Who does it belong to?"

Dugan narrowed his eyes, and his voice sounded broken."They've brainwashed you, more than once." He looked at the tarnished silver box as the assassin placed it on the bar. "It belongs to you. I kept in storage after you had been declared dead by Captain Rogers. When I heard the news that you survived the fall, I spent a lot of days searching for you with whatever was left of our boys." He stared at the box, and just kept on staring. Moisture gathered in his eyes. "I had to find a away for you to get your memories back." He pulled out a card with a numbers written around the edges. "Keep this safe. It will help erase the deception they have made you to believe in."

"I fell of a train?" he asked in a rumbling pause, his voice thick and dark. A faint sob crackled up his throat. His blue eyes widened in bewilderment."I died?"

'Bucky," Dugan uttered back, his voice monotone, and his heart clenched in his chest. "It doesn't matter. You're here now...You're alive."

"No," The asset stammered harshly. Murderous intent rippled through his veins. The masses of flashbacks grew increase as he slashed his hand over the wood, violently knocking the mugs to the floor. With a look of solace, Dugan quickly scooped up Stephen, and withdrew a few alarming steps back. He was having a mental breakdown, fighting against the thoughts and instincts programmed into his psyche by his tormentors. Dread was shown clearly across his slacked features. He was being pulled into a mindless delirium. "i'M DEAD!" His hostile and confused voice rang out. He was just a destructive force of pure coldness and aggression."I'M DEAD TO YOU!"

His blue eyes once again found Dugans', tears began to water them. "I-I..I know you..," His voice cracked.

Dugan nodded, right now his insides felt as though they were being ripped to shreds as he looked into his friend's pain filled eyes. "Its okay…Its going to be okay, Buck."

Suddenly, Winter Soldiers' gaze hardened against him as if those words insulted him. Ripped his hand away, he rammed it repeatedly into the wall beside the ducking waitress's head, hitting drywall, wood: everything but the woman. "No! No! NEVER! It WILL NEVER BE ALL RIGHT! IT CAN'T—-ARGHHHH!"

He fell to his knees, face twisted in agony. His hands fumbling into the tangles of his long dark locks as he released a soul-shattering cry into the room as he began to meltdown.

Dugan placed Stephen down, and ordered the boy to exit the restaurant, and then he grabbed the metal wrist. "Buck, settle down soldier. You're going to harm a lot of people." Anger tore into him like uncontainable fire. ""I just want to help you." He entreated, moving away from the Winter Soldier, but keeping a cautious distance away.

"Stop…" Came the younger man's choked response as trembled in panic.

"Bucky," Dugan huffed out a breath, reaching to grasp the metal shoulder. In a moment of tensed silence, and fighting the tug of fear ...it had become utterly maddening. This wasn't the hellbent soldier talking, but a concerned friend. Maybe he had to take another risk, or maybe Bucky no longer existed. Then he realized that Steve would keep on fighting."Get a hold of yourself, Barnes."

"STOP CALLING ME THAT! STOP!" The Winter Soldier roared, rising to his feet with new life in his angry eyes. It was startling to Dugan. His cheeks were stained with shed tears as he bared his teeth at him, his body slightly shook with restrained rage that begged to be unleashed. What came instead were hopeful yet harrowing words.

"I remember… I remember snow. I remember a runaway train…"

Dugan looked at him sadly.

The assassin looked at him emptily. "I fell…" A single tear fell and made a small splash on the floor.

Dugan stood his ground, readying himself for his next move as he looked between the mess of his friend and the gun clutched in the metal grasp of bionic fingers. It was a bit daunting. There measure of life at stake piled over his chest as he listened to encroaching bootsteps closing in on his position. He took a chanced a glare, spun around and raised his fists to strike. A gloved hand pinched against his collar bone, brutal and fast. "At ease, old man." Came a gruff and sadistic voice from an HYDRA agent behind him. A gun was cocked against his skull. "You have three seconds to step away from the asset, or your little friend outside will come back to you in a body bag."

He was startled, not by just the murderous hiss buffeting over his neck, but by the iciness of the tan skinned operative's demeanor that conveyed to sense of empathy or humanity whatsoever. He resisted the urge to fight as his eyes trained on a few more agents standing in front of Stephen with automatics strapped to their shoulders, his knuckles cracked and he withdrew a step away. His strength failed to compromise with urges of attack, and he was yanked by another pair of hands and forced away from the bar. "What are you jerks going to do Barnes?" he growled, feeling suddenly braver than he did moments before.

The operative regarded him with deadly sneer. "He's called the asset. That's all he is to us. We'll do whatever the director wants." He lowered his weapon, and turned his cold and hungry glare back onto the Winter Soldier. "Remove the old soldier from my sight." he barked out, keeping his dark eyes leveled on his weapon. "Prepare for extraction. The Winter Soldier has a mission to finish in Odessa." He inched closer to Dugan, and spat into his face. "If you ever come between me and the asset again...I'll fill that damned hat of yours with lead."

"If you ever spit in my face again," Dugan smirked ruefully, ignoring the threat. "I'll pop you head clean off, boy."

"Get this piece of filth out of my sight!" the operative bellowed to his agents, and then reached out a small gun filled with a tranquilizer dart. He pulled the trigger, and watched the Winter Soldier's sagging muscles instantly crash to the floor. Feverishly, he thumped his boots closer to the unconscious assassin, crouched down and grabbed a fistful of matted hair, jerking his head up. "Have a nice nap, Winter." he taunted, licking the dryness off his lips. He nodded begrudgingly to an agent hauling the laden form of HYDRA's greatest marksman outside into a black SUV. A sardonic smile formed on his face as he began backing away from the fuming soldier blocking his path.""See you around, old man...Or not. I'll tell Barnes you said goodbye."

Dugan watched his leave the entire way, his gaze unwavering and livid until the noise of thunder blaring drew his attention. He turned around sharply and watched in horror as young woman stumbled to the curve hugging her blood stained chest. It was a distraction that ushered the soldier inside of him to assistance her wound.

"BUCKY!" He blared out, hasting outside and stared at the vehicle fade into the shadows.


Carpathian Mountains, Romania, 1991

Red water lapped over his compromised body. Quiet and sloshing. A lifeless body of HYDRA agent floated under the wooden poles of the dock. He didn't show sentient for his falling comrade. His rigid muscles crashed against the grimy stone underneath the support beams, he manged to grab into a jagged piece with one thrush of his metal hand splashing out of the polluted water. His powerful torso heaved out heavily breaths, as he gritted his teeth and forced his weight against the nearest beam. He growled, sloppy strands of hair draped over his maroon smeared jawline.

Releasing a raw and frustrated growl, he snapped his feverish blue eyes out at the dock, and stared at her-the Russian spy standing on the edge with her Glock 26 handgun pointing down at the frothing waves. Dressed in a combat suit, black with red emblems on her trimmed shoulders, and her green eyes carried derision and malevolence as she searched for her target. In hushed movements, he gripped the beam, and hoisted himself up, climbing the dock like a hungry spider waiting to the make the kill. He used attack and tactical methods to ensnare her into his trap. One second. The metallic noises of his arm broke her concentration as he yanked her arm with forceful grip and pulled her into the water. His attack zone.

"You made me fail to obtain the directive," He said threateningly, his unshaven chin stiffen and muscled chest swelled defensively. "Who sent you here?" He grunted at the red haired woman glaring up at him coldly with her weapon aimed for his head. He barred his teeth at her, tasting the blood and salt water seeping over his lips as he removed his swathed knife, gripping the handle, and then he dropped into the water with a massive splash. They wasted no time of engaging an assault of hand to hand combat. Knives slashed through leather and Kevlar, skin bruised and Russian curses exploded.

Yanking at her drenched strands of scarlet, he jerked her head up, and held the knife to her throat, pressing the serrated edges against the pulsing jugular vein. Gasping out with labored breaths, she bit into his real hand, applying pressure. It turned the skin into reddish hue in the wake of teeth forcing themselves close to the veins

"You overreached," he seethed out, in an alarming snarl, 'You should brought more men to protect you from me." He exhaled roughly, his breath caught in the thickness of spilled blood and strawberry fragrance permeating his senses. Everything flashes into red and he pushed the woman away, using his palm against the curve of her line, trying to break it with bone shattering force. She yelped only once, and reached for his wolfish mane, tugging and pulling in a defense before snaking her arm over his throat.

"I know how to handle these simple missions on my own," she rebuffed, sounding indignant. "I took out your men with only a few shots. I know your weaknesses."

He smirked at that, and enclosed his metal hand over her thigh, squeezing the muscle until skin bruised. He was merciless, and listened to her yelp in pain as she writhed against him. Both of their chests collided, but he impended to finish the mission. To retrieve the item for HYDRA. "You should consider yourself lucky," he told her, the haunting chill was suddenly erased in his voice. "I'm out of bullets."

"Tell me, handsome" she said with abrasive chill ghosting over his feverish skin. "How many devils have you danced with?"

He threw his weight against her lithe body. He jabbed his knife into her exposed shoulder with determination to enter grizzly sight that met his eyes was not one that he had been unaccustomed to. Years of war and death had hardened his nerves so the putrid smell of death and the sight of so much blood did little to unsettle him. Feeling ensnared he could not suppress the cold shiver that crept down his spine as his stunned blue eyes beheld the chilling sight of a bullet filled and bloodied operatives. Each of them floating towards the shoreline where a savagely beaten Brock Rumlow stood. Four dead bodies surrounded the young operative, all with sniper slugs lodged in their foreheads.

"You can't stop me. Not this time." she clenched her teeth, body trembled with the rage scorching in her pulsing veins."This is my reckoning..My Mission.." She glared at his face, bruises and bloodied welts littered his raw and chiseled features. "I will finish it until all you are just stains on my leather." She growled, her vision livid into a hellish haze, and gloved hands shook while she brushed the muzzle of her gun on his clenched jawline. "When I'm done with you, I'll be leaving in a body bag."

The Winter Soldier swallowed his trepidation and wore a fierce yet compassionate look as he watched her; feared for her and what had been done to her in past.. The red marks around her wrists where she had ripped through her bonds were but a pale reflection of the cuts and bruises on her arms and face. The fact that she was still standing this fierce, this determined, was a testament to her inner strength and willpower. He knew more than anyone that strength and willpower could be directed positively or negatively. He'd glimpsed the ugly side that was negative. He raveled and controlled himself. It was a side that still haunted his nightmares and he knew now how dangerously close this red haired girl was to teetering over the edge and into the red abyss.

"I don't think so..." He tried to reason with her; sparing no glance at the disgruntled operative who glared at him through a swollen eye. "I'm not going to kill this time...You don't deserve to have freedom." He watched her as her fingers splay over his knife, taking intimate action, he quickly seized her wrist, and continued. "but you're leaving here empty handed. You failed your objective." He sneered, and pulled the knife out of her shoulder, watching blood pool out of the wound. "Next time we cross paths I will not make a mistake of putting a bullet into you."

"Neither will I," she digressed evenly against his jaw. Venom seeped from her lips, and she twisted herself against the lapping waves, and swiped his twined knife. She stabbed the blade into his collar bone with perfect and accurate pressure against fragile bone, but he rammed his fists into her thorax and let her body slip into the water.

He didn't care if she drown or bled out. He cared about the mission, he glared at her drifting body with his darkened blue eyes and just for a fraction of moment he fought the inner struggle to help her.

And them violent punch against the rotten wood, he broke the structure of the dock, giving her something to hold onto, while swam to the shore.