A/N: Hey everyone! This is story number two for day number two! I'm used to writing multi-chapter stories so I'm still learning how to keep things short and sweet. Hopefully this is okay!

If you wanted to send me some extra love, I'd really appreciate you 'buying me a pencil'! Head to 'buymeacoffee .com' and my username is just 'KJWriting'.

Love you all!

-KJ

Day Two

Thermometer | Delirium | "They don't care about you."

Bucky's ears were ringing as he gained consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy as he forced them open. He tried to rub his eyes, but something stopped him.

That realisation snapped Bucky to high alert. He quickly tried to get his bearings.

He was cuffed to a metal table. His legs and arms were extended straight out. There was metal wrapped around his legs, arms, and torso that secured him. Using all his strength, he tried to pull his arm up, but it had no effect on the cuffs.

That's when Bucky noticed the needle in his right arm. He used his eyes to follow the off-coloured tubing back to some kind of machine a few feet away.

'Shit', he thought. That must be why he can't break out of the cuffs.

He looked around the room. It was extremely dark with the only light source coming from the small hanging light above him. The floor and walls seemed to be made of concrete and there was a metal door near the corner.

Frustrated, Buck closed his eyes and leant his head back onto the metal table. The sound of the metal door creaking made Bucky open his eyes.

A man in a stereotypical white lab coat strolled toward him. Three men dressed in black clothes covered in weapons that Bucky could see even in the dark, followed in behind him.

"Are you comfortable, Sargent Barnes?" The man spoke with an American accent.

"What do you want from me?" Bucky's voice came out low and monotone as he stared down the man in front of him.

The man slowly edged toward him, "I don't want you…" All of a sudden, he lunged forward and aggressively grabbed Bucky's face with one hand. He stared coldly into Bucky's eyes, holding his head still. "I want the Winter Soldier." The man let go of his face, tossing his head backward onto the metal table.

Bucky's heart sank. He tried not to show his fear, but he knew he wasn't hiding it very well. He didn't want to become that person again. He couldn't become that person again.

"I'm not a killer anymore." Bucky stated, trying to hold his ground.

An evil smirk spread across the other man's face. "We'll see about that." He motioned for one of the men who were dressed in black to come forward. They wheeled a large trolley toward the table that Bucky was cuffed to.

Bucky could see what was on the table, even from the awkward angle he was looking from. An array of syringes and metal instruments. He could feel himself physically tense as the man in the coat picked one of the syringes up and began to move toward him.

Bucky tugged at the cuffs he bound with. He couldn't stop himself from screaming when the content from the syringe flooded into his neck. It was a searing, burning, overwhelming pain.

It had been 3 days since Bucky had disappeared from the field. Sam and Torres finally had a solid lead. A location. An old warehouse by the docks.

Using his goggles, Sam could see eight heat signals inside the building. Seven standing in different areas and one lying down. There was something wrong with that one… the arm.

"Bucky," Sam said under his breathe.

"It's him?" Torres questioned over the radio. "What's the plan?"

"I'm getting him out of there." Sam said with an eerily serious tone.

Torres' eyes widened, "I mean, that's not really a plan."

"It's good enough for me." Sam dove toward the building and landed just outside. He stealthily made his way inside.

It really wasn't hard to take down the four guards he found first. They didn't even notice that the others had slowly gone missing. Sam walked up to a set of stairs that led to the basement. The further he got down the stairs, the darker the lighting shifted.

Holding his shield, he made his way up to the only door he could find. A large metal one.

Without hesitating, Sam threw the door open and rushed inside.

It all happened so quickly. Sam had the three-armed men on the floor in just a few seconds. "Put the shield down." He turned to face the voice. He recognised the man in the lab coat from the files he looked through with Torres.

He was a former S.H.I.E.L.D agent. After its collapse, he had gone off the grid. He was suspected of being a H.Y.D.R.A agent.

"Doctor Heinkel." Sam finally had the chance to take in the room.

Bucky was shirtless and strapped to a metal table. He had multiple drips in each arm, attached to a bunch of machines stationed around him. There was a loud hummed radiating from all the equipment.

Bucky was weakly stirring from side to side, clearly weaker than normal. He was muttering something that Sam couldn't hear.

The doctor was standing beside the table, holding the end of a syringe that was embedded in Bucky's upper arm.

"I said put. The shield. Down." He roughly shifted the needle in Bucky's arm, forcing him to let out a loud and tired groan.

"Alright, alright." Sam complied, lowering the shield to the ground. He lifted his hands up in surrender as he rose from the ground.

"In position." Torres stated through the comms.

"Now!" Sam whispered. A large crash came the roof as a robotic droid flew through it and straight into the doctor. He was knocked out on impact, viciously ripping the syringe from Bucky's arm. This time he let out a tired yell.

"Bucky!" Sam shouted out, coughing from the debris that floated around the room. Bucky was coughing too, a much harsh, dry cough. As Sam moved closer, he saw that Bucky's eyes were out of focus. He was looking around the room, but never really at anything.

"Buck? Can you hear me?" He didn't get an answer.

Sam unclasped the metal cuffs that were around his friend's body, before moving his attention to the needles. He wasn't sure what the fluids were, but he knew they weren't good.

Bucky groaned every time Sam yanked the needles out, even though he tried to be as gentle as he could. There were seven of them, Sam noted.

'Holy shit,' he thought. He tried to inspect Bucky further and could see all the marks from where needles were inserted. Dozens on each arm and even more on his neck.

Sam slid his arm under Bucky's back and pulled him to an upright position.

"Buck? I need you to say something." Sam was getting more and more panicked. "Bucky, it's Sam." He tapped Bucky's cheek lightly, trying to ground him a little.

Bucky's eyes suddenly locked onto Sam's.

"Sam?" he asked weakly.

"Thank God." Sam released a breath he didn't even knew he had been holding. "I'm gonna get you out of here Buck. You're gonna be fine."

Sam could see him trying to form words. After a few seconds Bucky mumbled, "Thank you, Sam."