The Soldier—
James—
Bucky doesn't fall asleep but he does feel like he's floating inside a dream. He can hear his mom's voice calling him, he hears his little sister calling for him, he hears… so many people. So many are saying his name, speaking to him, laughing with him, yelling, screaming, whispering. Because once he was a person.
He was Bucky Barnes, son of Winifred and George Barnes. His little sister was called Rebeca. Becca. Oh God, his little sister, with her dark hair, her dirty knees, her dimpled chin. (He has a dimple in his chin too, he remembers now, doesn't just know it as a fact because he looked in the mirror.) She was his emergency contact when he went to war in 1943. The first to be notified of her brother being killed in action.
His skull is going to split open like a ripe fruit.
Bucky doesn't want that to happen.
He wants the memories to stay inside his head.
"Becca."
"What?" asks someone's voice. Bucky feels like he would be able to tell who it belongs to if he could concentrate. But his head. Oh God, his head. He doesn't want to lose his memories again. He doesn't want to lose his sister.
"My sister," he pants. "Her name was Becca."
He hopes someone is listening.
"She hated pigeons, was terrified of them." Bucky laughs over the excruciating pain. "She stole food from my plate because… She said she wanted to grow as tall as me."
He feels pressure on his back. It's in the shape of a hand and it doesn't stop his brain from burning up but it feels like an anchor. Bucky takes a deep breath and stares at the dots behind his eyelids.
Bucky remembers more and more. Remembers her favorite dress and proceeds to describe it in detail to whoever is listening. Remembers her drawings, her friends, her shoes, her laugh, the way she pouted when she mimicked his own angry pout.
"She must be older than me." The realization is punched out of him and he can't stop a devastated cry from leaving his throat. "She's dead. Oh God, she's dead."
Bucky's face is damp and it feels hot, his eyes burn inside their sockets.
Bucky is thrown into the past. His head is spinning and the only thing that feels real is the arms wrapped around him. It feels like he's being rocked and images of his mother are pulled from his brain, one by one like the threads of a fraying shirt. They tried to burn her off his brain. They tried to erase her and they accomplished it for decades. He let them do that.
"…fault. Bucky, it wasn't your fault," the voice reaches him again and he's pulled back into his body.
He's swallowed by darkness and then spat back out.
Bucky's on his back and the first thing he notices is that his body feels like a ton of bricks. The second thing is that there's something damp on his forehead. He groans and tries to raise his hand.
"Bucky?"
He tries to orient himself before opening his eyes. He's not home and it's not 1943. He knows he's not still with HYDRA because they never called him Bucky—they probably forgot about the nickname after a few decades.
A hot hand touches his hot cheek and he groans. His eyes blink open and he hears someone exhale.
"Buck."
He needs another moment to associate a name to the face hovering over him. White man with blond hair sports a frown of concern. Blue eyes.
Steve, his brain supplies and then it clicks into place. Steve Rogers. Captain America. His mission. Failed mission.
"Steve," Bucky croaks and his throat feels raw.
"Yes." Steve's face brightens like Bucky's just told him he has the solution for world hunger. "You were out for almost an hour. I got worried."
That's a strange thing to hear but Bucky doesn't voice it. He's about to say something, though, when he notices someone else in the bedroom. He scowls at Tony Stark, searching into his brain for something that will explain his presence.
"What did I do?"
He must have done something if so many Avengers are guarding him. The Black Widow isn't looking at him but Bucky knows for a fact that she's aware of every one of his movements at all times, the same way he is of the rest of people in the room. Tony Stark's speaking quietly with his A.I. and doing something in his phone while Clint Barton hovers near the Widow.
"You didn't do anything." Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve. "You may have tried to attack someone."
Bucky nods and tries to sit up propped on the pillows.
Soft, provides a part of him that isn't lucid yet and wants to drag him back to unconsciousness.
Steve hurries to help him settle and Bucky isn't sure if thanking him for being so considerate will be too repetitive at this point. He's drained and part of him feels like crying at the mere idea of someone going out of their way to make him feel… better. Now that he has recovered memories, that he has a better understanding of what being a person involves, Bucky can reason that Steve is just being a good person, that he would do this for anyone who needed it.
"I feel… hot," he says, scowl deepening at the feeling of his aching body's elevated temperature.
"You are," Stark confirms. He lifts his head and flashes a smirk at Bucky. "Also, you have a fever."
"I don't think it's the right moment," retorts Barton. He's now sitting on the dresser in front of the bed, arms crossed and legs dangling. Bucky can only blink stupidly at the exchange.
"Your immune system is in a pretty shitty state so you got yourself a fever," Barton helpfully explains.
Bucky hears a snort from his right where Stark is sitting in an armchair. "A super-soldier caught the flu."
"It's not funny, Tony," Steve snaps. He looks nervy. He sighs a breath of irritation and sits at the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
Bucky shrugs. Saying "like a piece of shit that got run over by a tractor" won't solve anything and he already knows how hard it is to fight the serum on anything, be it something beneficial for the body or the opposite.
The Widow is looking intently at him now and she isn't trying to mask it. Bucky isn't in the best of conditions so the chances are high that she would be able to defeat him in combat or do some damage. He may as well try to headbutt her and instead knock himself out. That had been an embarrassing experience. Bucky hopes HYDRA has that recorded; if they see their weapon failing in such a way they surely won't want him back.
"Here." Steve thrusts a straw in front of his face and Bucky realizes how thirsty he is. Drinking is painful.
"I don't remember attacking anyone," Bucky rasps. He's reached the conclusion that if everyone is hanging out in his bedroom, it's because there's something to discuss.
"Does it happen frequently?" Barton is the one to ask. His arms are still crossed and he's leaning forward. He's sporting a somber expression but he isn't trying to appear threatening.
"I've…" He tries to find a way to express it. "Sometimes, with HYDRA, I've been in one place and the next time I'm aware of my surroundings, I'm in a different one. Without remembering how I got there."
"You lose time," Stark says. Bucky nods because that's exactly how it feels. He turns to Steve but the man is looking pensively at Stark.
"Did I hurt someone?" He's already inspected the Avengers closely from his position and he hasn't noticed any visible injuries, but he needs to be sure.
"No, you didn't," Steve assures. His hand lays on the bed and Bucky feels like it should be patting his shoulder.
"But," Barton remarks, one finger springing up in front of his face, "you did try to protect Steve from us in a really resolute way."
Bucky turns to Steve, confused. The blond tries to form a sentence but ends ducking his head. "He wasn't—"
"Shut up, Steve," the Widow says but it doesn't sound the way his HYDRA handlers ordered him to be quiet. Bucky knows Steve isn't in any kind of trouble. "We tried to wake you two up when we got to the room, and Barnes tried to bite my head off."
"We may have barged in the room when J.A.R.V.I.S. told us you were in the same bed," Stark clarifies with an innocent shrug.
"We'll knock next time," Barton adds.
Natasha and Steve don't seem amused.
"I don't think I've ever done that," Bucky comments quietly, inspecting his hand with excessive interest.
"Attacking people without even being conscious of it?" Stark questions but Bucky senses that everyone wants to ask the same thing.
"I do that every time they thaw me." He makes a pause. Bucky feels uncomfortable with what he's about to say so he stares down at his hand. "But I've never tried to protect someone—at least not voluntary."
"Well." Stark doesn't say anything else and Bucky, even though he doesn't really know the man that well, can tell that rendering him speechless is an unusual thing.
They fall into a tense silence. No one seems willing to take the first step.
"I guess you have questions," Bucky decides to take the initiative, tense shoulders digging into the soft pillows. His shoulder burns and the arm he's missing hurts.
"We do," Steve affirms with an apologetic expression. He sits by Bucky's left on a chair he must have brought from the dining room.
"We have to hear your side of the story," the Widow says, taking a step forward.
"I don't remember all of it," he tells them with a weak voice. Bucky clears his throat and tries not to nod off. His head feels heavy and he knows the walls should not be swaying.
"What do they do to your memory?" Barton asks with a neutral tone.
Bucky swallows heavily, mouth tasting like ash. He grips the blankets.
"There…" He clears his throat and tries again but the words elude him. Steve hands him a glass of water and this time he drinks it without any need of help.
"The Chair," Bucky finally gets the words out. He fidgets with the glass. "They use it after and before I'm put into my chamber."
"Cryostasis?" Stark asks and Bucky answers with a nod. He feels Steve and Stark exchange a look over the bed.
"What does it do?" Barton prompts.
Bucky feels his throat close up but he pushes forward.
Mission report.
Bucky shakes his head and takes a look at his surroundings without being too obvious about it. He's in Avengers Tower. No handlers in sight. Steve's hand twitches where it's resting on the bedding.
"The Chair… It fixes the Asset," he parrots.
"You're the Asset." The Widow makes sure she's getting it right, expression and posture not giving anything away. Bucky assents. "What is the Asset for exactly?"
"What do you mean, Romanov?" Stark snorts and Bucky is getting familiar with those. "Killing people, haven't you noticed?"
Natasha doesn't pay her teammate any attention, eyes set on Bucky. The weight of her stare pins him to the bed like a metallic strap and his chest feels heavy.
"The Asset helps HYDRA shape the century. The Asset's work is essential for society not to descend into chaos."
The words feel empty. They've been said to him so many times in so many different phrasing and Bucky had never known what they'd actually meant. He hadn't known his name, the country where he was at the time—he hadn't even known the people giving him orders. Every time, there had been a voice telling him to obey and thinking about not doing it had been terrifying. And a small part of his self, one impossible to fully burn out, had thought he was helping.
"So we're talking about torture and brainwashing," Stark declares. Everyone seems to agree with this but Bucky can't wrap his head around it. Part of him, the one that lived as the Soldier and didn't remember being Bucky, can't accept that all he's known is a lie. A lie he's forgotten and then had shoved into his brain one time and another.
He was the Asset. He carried out his handler's orders. He did a good job, the best. He was made with that purpose. What purpose does he have now?
Bucky looks at the windows and the buildings beyond it. If he concentrates, he can faintly hear the people on the streets and it makes his skin crawl. At his left, Steve is observing him with kind eyes. These last days, Bucky's been shown more kindness than in the last seven decades.
"That's probably in the pen drive," Stark comments, fingers entwined in his lap. He looks Bucky in the eye. "We found a pen drive in the cabin. It's full of protocols about… Well. You."
Bucky nods because he doesn't know what's expected of him now.
"For now no one can know you exist," Stark explains to him. "But if a moment comes when you need to prove your existence and innocence, then you'll need a lot of proof."
"I killed those people," Bucky states with a frown.
"You weren't in control of your actions," Steve contradicts. Bucky doesn't feel like arguing any further and lets it go.
"So what am I going to do now?" Bucky asks, not sure he wants to know the answer.
"Recuperate," Steve says without missing a beat or consulting his teammates.
"Tell us everything you know about HYDRA," the Widow says. Steve snaps his head in her direction but seems to rethink and stays quiet.
"She's right," Steve agrees. He looks at Bucky with an apologetic expression.
"They didn't tell me a lot." They didn't tell him anything, actually, only gave him orders. They did talk around him without paying him any attention, though.
"You must have heard them say something useful," Barton pushes.
Bucky squirms. He doesn't have an answer and his body tenses up.
"I don't…"
"Would you recognize a HYDRA agent if you saw them?" Stark adds. He's leaning forward, elbows pressing on his knees.
Bucky would honestly love to answer any if not all questions, but it feels like his words have vanished. He doesn't remember anything useful and he knows these people are expecting an answer.
The Widow parts her lips, ready to fire another question, but Steve beats her to it. "Bucky, are you hungry?"
Bucky blinks at the change of topic. He nods.
"So you are Sargent James Barnes of the 107th?"
Bucky senses that Stark is a person who likes the sound of his own voice and doesn't like things staying a mystery.
"I am."
At least what is left of him.
"Let him rest, Tony," Steve says before leaving the room.
The Widow studies him for a long minute. Bucky believes that any other person would feel intimidated but right now he only feels hot and sticky with sweat—his head hasn't stopped pounding either but it's turned bearable.
"We will have a team meeting in the next few days," the Widow says when Steve reenters the room, shake in hand. She hesitates by the door. "I hope you have a quick recovery."
"What a strange woman," Stark comments when she's already left.
Bucky accepts the shake he's handed and takes a sip. He sighs when the creamy liquid soothes his throat and washes away the awful taste that had settled in his mouth.
"Steve told me you like the shakes."
It sounds only a bit like a question even though Stark already knows the answer. Either way, Bucky nods his head. "I'll need to do some tests to know what will be the best nutritional balance for your own shakes."
Stark seems to be expecting an answer. "Will you let Tony do some tests on you?" is Steve who spells it out.
His stomach clenches. "What kind of… tests?"
He sees Stark open his mouth to answer but Steve is faster. "Nothing too invasive."
"Will you let me answer? Are you the scientist here?"
"I only want him to know we won't hurt him," Steve explains. His face has turned pink.
Stark gapes at the other man, unable to find the right words.
"Can Steve be there?" Bucky surprises himself saying.
Stark's gapping expression turns to him and Bucky notices that he's not the only one taken by surprise.
"Of course," Steve affirms, scooting closer to the bed. He turns his eyes on Stark. "Right?"
Stark splutters at first but eventually gives his confirmation. Bucky sips his shake and acts as if he isn't aware of Barton and Stark staring at him.
"I'll be going then," Barton says, sliding off the dresser.
"Yeah, it does kinda seem like we're not needed here," Stark says on his part and Barton snorts. Bucky wonders if it's one of those private jokes.
"I hope you get better soon, man." Bucky needs a second too long to realize that the words are directed at him. He makes a weird wave with his hand still holding the shake and he instantly knows it wasn't the appropriate thing to do.
"See ya," Stark says and the two men exit the room. After a minute, he hears the elevator doors opening and closing again.
"How are you feeling?" Steve asks. He takes the shake and places it on the nightstand.
"I don't know." He had thought about just saying "fine" but then he'd realized he couldn't really put his finger on the exact emotion he's experiencing.
"Maybe you should lay down for a bit."
Bucky nods at the suggestion because it doesn't demand him to make a decision. He slides under the blankets and Steve takes the damp cloth and rewets it in the bathroom. It's cold when it touches his forehead and Bucky sighs.
"Do you remember ever getting the flu with the serum?" Steve asks in a conversational tone, settling on the armchair Stark vacated.
"I can't remember," it's Bucky's poor excuse of an answer. He has the feeling he's going to say that sentence a lot in the future. Luckily, Steve only nods to demonstrate he understands and Bucky's stomach settles.
"You think you can sleep?"
That one is easier. "I don't want to."
Steve looks at him like he already knows the reason is that Bucky doesn't want to dream again.
"You could read."
Bucky almost sits up with interest but he settles on widening his eyes and parting his lips without any words getting out of them. Steve laughs at his reaction and gets up.
"Which one do you want?"
There's a considerable distance between him and the bookshelf but Bucky can still read the titles, something Steve must already know. He spends a few minutes searching for a book he may know now that more memories have resurfaced, but nothing rings a bell.
"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy?"
The sound Steve makes is non-committal. He brings the book to Bucky who proceeds to lay it on his lap and open it. He struggles for a minute and eventually succeeds to hold the book with his hand and keep the pages apart with his thumb.
"Mind if I stay here for a bit?" Steve asks. Bucky notices that Steve is pulling at a loose thread on his t-shirt.
"No. I mean, I don't mind."
Steve quirks his lips and then pulls out another book from the shelf and settles on the armchair. Bucky forgets himself for a moment and stares at Steve for far too long.
"Everything okay, pal?" Steve says with another quirk of his lips.
"Yeah. Pal."
It feels good to be able to make someone laugh. (Is this a private joke?)
"If you need anything, just tell me," Steve says and turns to his book when Bucky assents.
He won't do it, but another thing that feels good is knowing he can just turn to his right and he'll find a person who will listen to him and try to do something to make him feel more comfortable.
