Chapter 4: Lost
The explosion hurls them, and Bucky jerks his arm up to shield his head instinctively, but he's through into something hard and something slams into his side that feels like metal, but it bends or breaks and he hits the floor somewhere on the other side. Smoke clogs the air, and the fire is everywhere, licking.
The roar of the explosion is still ringing in his ears.
His clothes try to catch fire and he slaps the sparks out – perks to having a metal hand.
Nearby, someone groans. Yelena, he thinks. "That was a cool way to die," she supplies between hacking her lungs out.
"We're not dead yet." Steve.
His leg is throbbing. When he looks down, something metal is stabbed into him.
"You're bleeding." Natasha sounds panicked, and when he looks up, she's looking at her sister. There's a blood spot on her sleeve.
"I'm fine. It's just glass."
"Don't pull it out."
"Come on –"
"I can bandage it –'
"You're such a mom."
...
Were he and Steve like this?
Steve is pushing himself up nearby.
The air is thick with smoke. It's hard to breathe. He should've guessed it was a trap. Loki rigged something.
Bucky shifts, yanking the metal shard out of his leg. It stings sharply, but he's had worse. Like when he got his arm ripped off – his shoulder still throbs.
The flames are blazing in the doorway – forget checking on Loki. Steve is trying to call him, but there's no answer. He's Asgardian. He's probably not dead, but he's still down.
Something flashes out of his line of sight. Someone. Bucky grabs his rifle, rolling to his knees and firing. Instinct. Like Loki said. He's doing it again. still fighting. Still killing.
Steve's shield raises to block the bullets. "Ambush," he calls, "We got to find a route out."
"I'll pull the info," Natasha said.
"Don't," Bucky yells back, "The room's on fire." It's still flaming, a searing heat in the air, across his back and licking closer to them. Steve is right. They have to move before the fire spreads to them.
Natasha is limping. She's bleeding, but she's in black and Bucky can't see where from.
He drops one of them with a shot through the heart. There's three more Hydra agents in his line of sight. The smoke makes it hard to see.
"I'll go back for Loki." Steve starts standing when someone jumps out of the shadows at him. Bucky turns to shoot him, ducking a shot aimed for his head. Steve throws his shield at them, sprinting across the mess of sparking debris and attacking them head-on.
They're going to have to hope Loki got something, because Bucky honestly doesn't know enough to work with. Not that it helps right now. He stumbles to his feet, reaching down to help Yelena.
He loses sight of Steve through the fray and smoke, but the room shudders and there's another crash.
"Uh, I think the ceiling just went in," Yelena supplies, looking upwards towards way a dim ray of light shines down.
"Then let's move," Natasha supplies.
Bucky raises his rifle to cover for them. Falling back into the flaming room is a bad idea, but maybe the best they've got.
It happens so fast after that.
Yelena grabs her sister's hand to pull her up – Natasha's leaning heavily on her, panting. Yelena's free hand clenches and she fires something off her wrist, hitting her sister in the stomach. Natasha drops with a muffled yelp, a jolt of electricity running through her.
"What are you doing?" Bucky hisses.
And then Yelena comes at him, her foot slamming into his leg where the blood is still dripping. He inhales sharply at the stab of pain, stumbling backwards, and he jerks his left arm up to block the electric thing she shoots at him. It hits his arm, the circle imbedding into it and sending a sharp wave of shocks down his arm. It stings on his shoulder, running through his body hot and burning and –
– he's been there before done that felt that struggled at the restraints pinning him down and machine closing over his head and all there is is pain, drowning and smothering –
He blinks, trying to focus on the ceiling as he pries the device off, crushing it and letting it fall sparking to the floor. When he looks up, Yelena is standing over him, face blank.
"Желание." Longing – the constant ache in his heart as he wanted to go back get out –
His body seizes with raw, gutted panic. He knows that word and Yelena's accent rolls it off perfectly, but he trusted her and she was a friend. She's fighting them and she's – she's – He's not supposed to talk and he knows that – it's been drilled into his brain so many times but that doesn't stop the quiet strangled "stop" that slips out.
Yelena's face contorts into something pained, but she keeps talking. "Ржавый." Trapped in the dark helplessness of being here alone and useless unmoving the grating of his arm on his shoulder where it aches and throbs and the metal weighs heavy and feels so wrong –
"Stop!" He scrambles upright, body tensed and braced to run and run and just get out of here, as fast and far as he can.
"Семнадцать." The numbers always the numbers always – the last whisper of who he was –
He rips a knife from his belt and stabs upwards at her throat, raw panic closing in over his throat. He can't do this can't – can't –
Yelena grabs his wrist, angling the blade away.
"Рассвет."
The light he'll never get to see Steve won't come for him he won't see until it's too late –
He screams, raw and rage filled and panicked. He needs to go to run to – to –
He knees her in the gut and she skids backwards, nearly falling with a loud grunt that's almost enough to break through the fog hazing his mind.
"Печь. Девять."
He dives for his rifle. Instinct. Like Loki said. Can't think of anything but that he has to get out can't let this running through and his mind is already hazing over and he needs this to stop he can't fight Steve again.
Yelena swerves aside, grabbing the end of the rifle and shoving it away.
He can't go back to Hydra now can't – can't –
"Добросердечный."
His head is pounding now, being torn apart with the need to still and obey but he can't – can't – He knew this would happen, knew they'd try to wake the Winter Soldier in him again, knew he never had a chance to get away like he'd let himself start to think.
He slams his elbow into her stomach and she grunts, stumbling upright but he's lost track of the other Hydra agents, so focused on Yelena he didn't see it coming when another gun goes off and he jerks, a sharp, burning pain searing through his right shoulder.
"Возвращение на Родину." Stop. He can't do this – he doesn't have a home he's not Hydra they made him into this he wants to get out needs to run but he can't –
She comes in again and he reaches out blindly, reaching for her throat. Yelena's knee slams into his chest and they both go down.
"Один. Грузовой вагон."
He feels the metal bar under his hands and the shield and the explosion and the car and Steve –
Steve –
Tries to grasp that but it fades away and all he can see is Yelena's face over his and orders –
His mind quiets. Void again.
Yelena must see the shift. She stumbles to her feet, rubbing her arm.
The Winter Soldier stands in front of her.
"Солдат?"
"Я готов отвечать." His voice is numb and void of emotion.
She blows out a breath. "Good. It was like really, really hard to remember all that without messing anything up. Come on. Let's go."
His shoulder is burning, throbbing with pain. His mind isn't keeping up with this, with her words – can't process it.
"Bucky!"
He jerks around at the sound, at where Steve is fighting his way through Hydra agents.
Yelena whirls around, drawing her handgun and firing at him.
His mind swivels. Leave. Retreat. Return to base.
The Winter Soldier grabs his rifle, gasping at the sharp shooting pain at the movement of his shoulder. He expects to get shoved for stumbling, or hit, but there's nothing.
Yelena pulls an explosive from her belt and throws it upwards.
They run, ducking down another hall as another explosion rings out, making back the way they came.
The Hydra agents part, letting them through as though this were planned.
They make it all the way outside without incident when he sees Stark flying overhead. Yelena grabs the end of his rifle before he can fire. "Hostilities inside," she offers, panting, "We'll get the jet."
Stark flies off like he believes it, and the Winter Soldier looks at her in confusion, but he was not asked to talk.
"Let's get to the jet," she tells him simply.
He has never flown with a superior before, but he still takes the wheel when they take off.
"Wanna check for trackers while I fly?"
He stares, brain freezing over at the word want.
She huffs a sigh. "Fine. I'll check for trackers, because knowing Stark, there probably are some. You fly back to base. You know where to go. And please try not to bleed to death. You'd be very heavy to drag off the jet." She pats his shoulder as she passes, and his body jerks at the touch, tensing.
He expects her to hit him.
Instead, she just walks out.
He wishes she would hit him. He tried to kill her. He was difficult and disobedient. And he's malfunctioning.
The jet's workings are unfamiliar, and he's hardly trained in these. He has to get it right. Can't fail. Can't failcan'tfailagaincan'tfailcan't –
(Hewantstogoheneedstogetoutofherehecan'tgobacktherecan'tgothroguhthisallagainthey'llbesoangrynono –)
"Wow. I found like, three trackers. That's impressive. Even for a billionaire. Is he that sticky about his stuff being stolen?"
There are no orders, so her words aren't important. He doesn't listen, focuses on flying, and doesn't register anything other than the still-throbbing in his shoulder and leg and the steadily growing wetness of his clothes.
"Do you ever talk?" she asks, swinging herself into the seat beside him.
No. The Winter Soldier doesn't speak unless spoken to, unless requested something, and he doesn't know what she wants. Is this a test? What does he say? A gnawing knot of anxiety twists in his chest, strangling and closing in until it's hard to breathe through.
"Извини – Natasha would say that was rude. You're hurt. I'll fly. There's something in the back. You can patch up."
Is that an order or another unusual question? He doesn't know. They don't give him things to heal. They'll cut the bullet out and stitch it, maybe, but his injuries always heal themselves. He hasn't been overly good recently, and he left. He warned Steve and the Avengers when they're Hydra's enemies, and he's going to be...
He goes to the back, anyway, digging out the first aid kit that Nat had stashed in here.
He's still bleeding. Head feels fuzzy, maybe blood loss?
Yelena comes back, saying something about autopilot while he tries getting the bullet out of his shoulder. The angle is awkward and it's hard to leverage. It might've hit the bone. He has never fought beside a superior before, and neither has he tried to knife them – he doesn't know what to expect. Is she angry at him?
"You're not actually gonna die from that, will you?" she inquires.
He wishes he would. He doesn't want to go back to the base, to be reprogrammed, like what's supposed to be done. "Negative." He gives up trying to get it out, opting to put pressure on it instead. The pressure is necessary, but still makes the throbbing even worse. They can operate on it when he gets there, but that's always worse. He doesn't know what to do.
"I can help you get it out," Yelena offers. She's actually gentle.
He doesn't let his guard down.
He knows how this ends.
(Being the Winter Soldier never means anything but pain.)
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