Charlie stirred again with a gasp as the scalpel bit into her shoulder, shallow but deliberate. The villain didn't flinch at her cry, didn't pause as he dragged the tip of the blade in a neat, precise curve over her collarbone, as if carving art into her skin. Blood welled instantly and dripped in slow, cruel trails down her front.

Bucky thrashed against the chains with a roar. The sound echoed, ragged and primal.

"STOP IT!" His voice cracked. "What the hell do you want?!"

The man turned, holding the bloody scalpel delicately between two fingers like a paintbrush.

"What do I want?" he asked calmly. "Not money. Not secrets. I want you, Sergeant Barnes. I want you to feel what I felt."

He strolled back toward Bucky, crouching just outside of reach, eyes glittering.

"Do you know what it's like to watch someone you love be erased? Do you know what it's like," he continued, voice deepening, "to find your father's body shattered and unrecognizable, dumped like garbage in an alley because the Winter Soldier had a mission?"

He smiled — teeth bared.

"I do."

Bucky's breathing was ragged. "He was a mission."

"He was my father." The words came like a strike. "He was everything I had. You didn't care who he was. You didn't even remember killing him, did you?"

He stood again, walking back toward Charlie. She was barely conscious now, blood dripping from the fresh wound on her shoulder, her body trembling, pale beneath the sweat and ash that clung to her like a second skin.

"So I decided to make you remember something real."

He backhanded Charlie with the same hand that had held the scalpel. Her head jerked violently, a cry strangled in her throat. She sagged again, a stream of blood trickling from her lip.

Bucky saw red. A strangled sound left his chest — not a word, just pure pain, fury and helplessness all tangled into a choking, shuddering noise.

"STOP!" he begged this time, voice cracking under the weight of it. "Please—don't hurt her."

"That's the point," the man hissed, kneeling beside Charlie now, grabbing her chin and forcing her battered face upward so she faced Bucky.

Her eyes fluttered open, barely, blood and tears mixing on her cheeks.

"Look at her, Barnes. You did this. You brought her here. You let her love you."

He stood again, calmly wiping the blood from the scalpel with a white cloth.

"You didn't just kill my father. You erased my life. So now, I'm going to erase yours…but you're gonna do it…" the sinister smile that covered the mans face was straight up diabolical.

The villain circled back toward Bucky slowly, hands folded behind his back like a man about to give a lecture. His boots echoed in the chamber, rhythmic and cruel.

"You want to know the real beauty of this, Barnes?"

Bucky didn't answer. His eyes were locked on Charlie, whose breath was shallow, her chest barely rising and falling. She wasn't unconscious, but she was slipping fast — into shock, maybe. Into something worse.

"I could kill her right now," the man mused. "Snap her neck. End it. Quick. But that wouldn't be satisfying, would it? No."

He leaned forward, lips near Bucky's ear.

"You are going to do it."

Bucky went still.

"What?" he whispered, barely able to form the word.

The villain smiled. A slow, gleeful thing.

"Oh yes. You see, her father didn't just give her to Hydra. He sold her — willingly. Because she was perfect. A candidate with ideal markers. Her brain was like a clean slate. You know the serum. You know the conditioning. You lived it. We perfected it with her."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small notebook. It was leather and worn from years of passing.

"These are her words. Her triggers. Just like you. A different mix though."

He held it up between two fingers.

"A few words in the right sequence, and she won't even remember her name. She'll be gone — overwritten, like a corrupted file. And when the Winter Soldier calls the final phrase…"

He stepped back and looked over his shoulder toward Charlie's limp form, then turned to Bucky with a sick smile.

"…she'll kill anyone in the room. Including you. Unless, of course, you kill her first."

The words landed like a hammer blow. Bucky stared at him, breath caught in his throat.

"No," he said, his voice dead and flat.

"Oh, yes," the villain said, delighted now. "I want to watch your mind break in real time. The one person you finally let yourself love — and now you're going to have to destroy her. Because if you don't, she'll take out every agent at the compound you just left. She'll kill your friends. Sam. Joaquin. Maybe even that tech kid who brought you coffee that morning."

He was pacing now, savoring every word.

"You'll have to do it. Because it's the right thing. And it'll kill you, Bucky. That's my revenge."

Bucky's heart pounded so loud it was all he could hear.

"You can't control me," he said hoarsely. "You won't make me do that."

The man's smile widened as he tapped the device against his palm.

"Oh no? You think you're strong enough to watch her eyes go cold? To hear her speak Russian in that same blank voice you used to have? Because she's still in there, Barnes. That thing we created? She's under the surface. Sleeping. And when I activate her, you're the only one who might reach her."

He turned his back on Bucky, heading toward the door.

"Sleep well tonight, soldier. Tomorrow, you choose: her life… or everyone else's."

The door slid shut behind him with a hiss, leaving Bucky chained in silence.

Across from him, Charlie stirred faintly in her restraints — a ragged breath, a quiet whimper.

Bucky bowed his head, tears tracking down his dirt-smudged cheeks, the weight of what was to come pressing like iron on his chest. He couldn't lose her.
He couldn't kill her. He couldn't let them win.

The room was silent, but Bucky hadn't stopped watching her — not for a second. Hours passed.

Charlie's head lolled to the side, her cheek smeared with dried blood, a faint tremble running through her limbs. She was starting to come to again. Barely. Slowly.

"Charlie," Bucky rasped, voice wrecked from screaming earlier. "Hey. Come on, sweetheart. You're okay."

Her lashes fluttered. A wet, choked sound left her throat. She tried to lift her head, but it sagged forward again.

"That's it. I'm here. I'm right here."

Her fingers twitched against the restraints, the movement small but determined. A soft grunt escaped her lips, followed by a cough that made her whole body jolt in the chair.

"B-Buck?"

The sound of her voice nearly split him open.

"I'm here," he breathed, tugging uselessly at the thick cuffs binding him to the wall. "God, Charlie…"

She tried to blink, her swollen eye barely able to open.

"Wh… what happened?" she slurred.

"They—" He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched. "They've been hurting you. But I'm here now. I'm going to get us out."

Her lip was split, blood drying there in a crooked line, but her eyes searched for his, wide and bleary.

"Y-You're okay?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Her eyes welled with tears. "They showed you, didn't they? The video…"

Bucky's whole body tensed. "Yeah."

Her jaw tightened weakly. "He… he wanted me to beg."

"I know," he whispered.

"I didn't."

"I know, baby. I know you didn't."

A long pause passed between them, ragged breaths and the hum of distant power lines the only sound.

Charlie's voice cracked as she asked, "Did he tell you?"

"Yeah." Bucky's voice was barely a breath. "He told me everything."

She was quiet. Then—

"Am I… like you?"

That question — the way she said it — made Bucky feel like someone had taken a blade to his chest and twisted it.

"No," he said quickly, firmly. "Not like me."

"But I am. Aren't I? Programmed. Conditioned. Trigger words. The serum."

"Charlie, no—"

"I am, Bucky," she whispered. "And he's going to use me. I can feel it. Something's wrong in my head. I keep… I keep hearing Russian. I keep forgetting."

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

She looked at him, so fragile and yet still shining with defiance. "He wants you to kill me, doesn't he?"

Bucky closed his eyes.

"I won't do it," he said, voice raw. "I won't."

"Even if I go dark?"

"No."

"Even if I become… dangerous?"

"I won't lose you." The words broke from him in a roar. "I can't."

Tears streaked down her ash-smeared cheeks.

"You might not have a choice. You have to Bucky. You have to do it." she rasped.

"I'll find a way," he promised. "I'll make one."

Across the room, she whispered, "I love you."

And Bucky, with his arms bound and his heart breaking, met her eyes.

"I love you more."

The door creaked open, rusted hinges groaning like a scream down a long corridor.

Bucky's eyes snapped to it instantly.

The villain stepped in again — calm, almost cheerful. His tailored jacket was spotless, a cruel contrast to the blood and ash covering both Charlie and Bucky.

Beside him stood a man built like a wall — shaved head, thick neck, dark tactical gear — carrying a small metal control panel in one hand and a holstered weapon on his hip. The kind of goon Bucky recognized from a hundred nightmares.

"Rise and shine, lovebirds," the villain crooned. "Hope you had a nice chat. Heartfelt stuff. Really pulled at the strings."

Bucky's metal arm groaned against the restraint as he surged forward. "If you touch her again—"

"You'll what? Glare me to death?" He chuckled and gave a flippant gesture to the goon. "Be a gentleman, would you? Let the girl go see her beloved."

The goon strode forward, flipping switches on the chair's restraints. Charlie flinched at the sound but didn't resist. Her eyes flicked to Bucky, wide and unreadable. The goon gripped her by the shoulder, shoving her forward.

"No," Bucky growled. "Don't—don't you fucking touch her—"

Charlie staggered as she was yanked to her feet.

Blood bloomed anew from the reopened wound in her side, soaking through the ripped waistband of her boyshorts and dripping down her thigh. She nearly fell again, but the goon steadied her — then pressed the cold mouth of a gun to the back of her head.

"Go on, sweetheart," the villain said with a smile. "Right into his arms. Or… as close as you can get."

The shove was rough, and Charlie stumbled toward Bucky, her legs barely holding. Her body screamed with pain, but her gaze stayed locked on his.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, shaking, breath shallow. The blood from her side soaked into the floor as she braced herself with one hand on his thigh, the other reaching up — trembling fingers brushing his cheek.

"Charlie—" His voice cracked as he tried to move, to do something, but the restraints held fast. "No. Don't do this."

Her fingers smeared blood across his face, but her touch was still gentle.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay."

"Don't say that. It's not."

"I forgive you," she breathed, barely audible. "For whatever you have to do."

His eyes filled instantly, head shaking in disbelief. "No. No, don't say that. Don't you dare say that."

Behind her, the villain leaned against the wall like he was watching art unfold.

"Isn't this beautiful?" he mused. "So tragic. But it's so necessary."

"Go to hell," Bucky snarled.

Charlie's hand slid to clutch his, squeezing it even as hers trembled violently.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered, tears mixing with dirt and ash. "Not with you."

"I won't do it. They can't make me—"

"You might not have a choice," she said, her voice cracking. "If they activate me, you have to stop me.I can't hurt anyone else."

Bucky dropped his forehead to hers, ignoring the way blood trickled between them.

"I'll die before I hurt you," he said.

The villain clapped his hands once. "Very touching. Shall we begin?"

"Please, Bucky." She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. Her voice broke open into a sob. "You have to be the one. If it comes to that… you have to kill me."

He shook his head over and over, eyes wild, desperate. "I won't. I won't."

"Then you'll damn us both."

His silence stretched.

And then—click. The soft, deliberate sound of a safety coming off.

The villain stepped closer, the goon then aiming the pistol between Charlie's shoulder blades like it was nothing.

"Time's almost up," he said with a smirk. "Let's see if the soldier still has it in him."

Charlie didn't even flinch. She only turned back to Bucky, tears pouring freely now, and whispered, so quietly only he could hear:

"I love you. Enough to let you go."

And then she closed her eyes and begged him.

"Please. Kill me before I hurt you."