A/N: Happy New Year, kids. Here's a nice big upload of angsty goodness. Something to see you into 2015 :) (Again, I apologize for the emotional scars you are about to receive)

1945 - Location Unknown

There are more surgeries. He's awake for some, blurry and drugged for others - when he starts to jerk and fight against the restraints. He's probably out cold for still more of them, but there's no way to know.
He doesn't know how long it's been since he fell. With no windows, it's hard to gauge how much time passes when he sleeps or just loses consciousness for a while. He imagines that it must have been days by now. Maybe weeks… he can't tell.
They don't give him anything for the pain. He didn't really expect them to.

Once, he surfaces from the haze long enough to hear someone with a thick accent speaking clumsy German. He realizes dizzily that it's a phone-call when there's a long pause before the voice speaks again.

*"Ja, Sir , wir sind sicher, dass er es ist." Another short pause. "Sie wollen, dass wir weitermachen?" A pen scratches busily on paper. "Ja gut. Erhöhen Sie die Dosierung?"
This time the pause is lengthy. He almost thinks they've hung up when the voice speaks again. "Verstanden. Wir werden weitere Aufträge zu erwarten. Heil HYDRA."

Bucky's never had been as good with the language as Jones is, but he knows enough German to understand the gist of what was said. ...And that they've been pumping him full of a lot more than sedatives. A horrible realization rises and bursts like a bubble over him.

They're still testing the serum... These sick assholes are finishing what Zola started.
He flinches instinctively at the name, like he expects the beady spectacled eyes to be watching him.
Zola…
Zola spoke German to his underlings in that lab. Zola was still on the loose when he fell. There's no telling where that evil little fucker is now...
He found me again, Bucky thinks, eyes involuntarily going wide as footsteps make a leisurely approach from the next room. Please god, tell me they didn't get Steve too…

"Sergeant Barnes." A man looms over him in a white coat. It isn't Zola but it may as well be. Barnes swallows thickly and doesn't let himself look away. He won't give this bastard the satisfaction. He wishes he had the strength to spit right in their smug face, but maybe he'll get his chance later. The man doesn't appear to notice the murderous look in Bucky's eyes, or maybe he just doesn't care.
"So nice to officially meet you. Your cooperation is appreciated."
The man smiles serenely down as he stabs a needle into Bucky's thigh and the world spirals away into emptiness again.

*Translation:

Yes sir, we're sure it's him. Do you want us to continue?

Yes, good. Increase the dosage?

Understood. We will await further orders. Hail HYDRA.