I'm baaack! I'm full of turkey and homemade meringue cookies and other goodies, but I'm back! I've also got Chapters 9, 10, 17, and 22 complete, with 11 through 13 started.

See if you can spot the Arrowverse reference.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Marvel Cinematic Universe or any of the characters contained therein.

WORD COUNT: 848

Bucky Barnes knew he was a dead man the moment he woke up coughing and shaking. Sick men didn't last long in here. Those who got too sick to work were carted off to the lab, and they were never seen alive again. God only knew what went on in there, but he and the other workers often heard screams coming from the locked room, and he'd once spoken with one of the men who'd been assigned the task of carrying the bodies out and burying them. That man had said that they were often horribly disfigured, some beyond recognition. The only one that had been described in detail had had a deformed, lumpy skull and blood streaming from his eyes. That was the fate that awaited him.

But he wasn't going to roll over and just let it happen. He would try to hold it off for as long as possible. He tried to stay awake on the factory floor, even if his hands were shaking and the fever left him dizzy and nauseous. If he passed out or threw up or even coughed too damn loudly, then his life was as good as over. Dugan was standing next to him, casting worried glances his way every so often, and sometimes even shifting to block him from view of the guards.

One second, he was tightening a bolt on one of those infernal machines, and the next, he was being yanked up off the floor by Dugan and Jones, who were both hissing at him to wake up and get back to work before the guards saw him in that state. Fate gave them a brief reprieve, in that none of the guards noticed his collapse.

They weren't so lucky the second time around.

It burned.

Whatever it was that the mad scientist had injected him with, it burned.

Perhaps it was acid, because that was what it felt like as it crept through his veins, spreading the burning sensation throughout his entire body. The fever he'd been suffering from earlier had been nothing compared to this.

He didn't know how long he'd been here. He had a vague idea of how long he and the other men of the 107th had been held in this goddamn facility since the work shifts and meagre mealtimes were scheduled regularly enough for them to keep track of the days. But he didn't know how long it'd been since he'd been dragged into this hellhole of a lab.

He used to like science labs. It had been one of his best subjects in school. Even if he were to somehow live through this and go home, he'd probably never be able to set foot in one again without remembering this.

The heat and the pain in his body kept building and building. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and he screamed. He screamed until he finally lost consciousness, and slipped away into blissful silence.

He was woken by a harsh slap to the face.

It took him several seconds to remember where he was. He'd been dreaming that he was back home, with his parents and his sisters and Steve, and that he'd never had to go off to war in the first place. For several seconds, it felt like he'd fallen asleep in his childhood bed and started having a nightmare.

Except this was real, and he couldn't wake up.

The pain was still there, although it had diminished, if only somewhat. His body still ached, still burned like he was trapped inside an oven.

The scientist talked excitedly, his voice high pitched and his words incomprehensible. The bastard probably wasn't speaking in English, but it really didn't make that much of a difference; in this state, he probably be able to distinguish and understand the words, anyway.

He kept repeating the same thing over and over: his name, his rank, and his service number, just like he'd been instructed in basic training. Just like he'd been doing before the pain had become too much to handle. Even after the scientist left the room, he kept repeating it.

Name, rank, and service number.

He thought he heard yelling from outside. Gunfire and explosions, too.

Name, rank, and service number.

The scientist had returned, and was scrambling around, stuffing papers into a briefcase.

Name, rank, and service number.

The scientist was gone again, leaving Bucky to die alone.

Name, rank, and service number.

"Bucky!"

A shockingly familiar face appeared before him. He had to be seeing things, the fever making him delirious. The straps holding him to the freezing metal table were removed.

"Is…"

"It's me. It's Steve."

"Steve?"

"Come on." Then Steve's hands were pulling off the table and up onto his feet, holding him steady as he tries to catch his balance.

"I thought you were dead!"

The voice was definitely Steve's, but the body was definitely not.

"I thought you were smaller."

Here, have some tissues.

Next chapter: Stranded.