Chapter Text
Halfway across town The Falcon flew across the skyline. Truly graceful in every movement. Where Bucky was a cold raging force that moved everything in its path, Sam danced through the flames in arcs and swirls.
He was chasing the first of his leads. Saw him and ran, not even a hint of information. This was going to take longer than he had thought.
Catching up to the guy was easy after he made a wrong turn, clearly lost he started hesitating and that's when Sam moved in. Swooping down and cornering the guy. Shield up and ready.
“Look man, I don't know anything.” It was a terrible cover.
“Why’d you run?” Sam moved in, closer.
“What do you know about the winter soldier protocol?” The guy looked at him very confused. It could be a trick, feigned ignorance. But Cap didn’t think this guy was capable of a lie as good as this. He crossed this lead off the list. It was a long shot anyway.
So he moved on, Bucky didn’t have time for Sam to be too picky with the low level criminals he interrogated.
His second lead would prove to be much more useful. It was a suspected safehouse outside the city, thought not to be used for at least a decade. But apparently there had been some movement. Nothing really worth checking out back then, but now any lead was worth it.
He landed just outside. A quick scan told him there was no one inside. So he landed just out front and headed inside. It wasn’t what he had expected. An abandoned apartment building. They had speculated that it had been abandoned due to its likelihood of demolition. The city had been making plans for a while and it was enough to scare off everyone squatting there.
It wasn’t furnished, and a layer of dust covered everything. He saw a couple of things indicating animals had been through here.
He went room by room, floor by floor. Most of it was dust. All of it was dust. Scraps of stories and memories, left to rot on the edge of town.
Eventually he found something that might be what he was looking for. Second to the end of the hall on the 3rd floor he found a scattered few papers laid out on the coffee table. They didn’t look recent. More dust covered them too, but it was still worth a risk. There were a few things of note.
A building plan, not the one to this building, he didn’t recognize the building but that wasn’t unusual. Some sort of basement or sub layer. A couple of bank statements from different banks, different accounts. What really got his interest were a few notes, typed out, in Russian. Sam collected everything on the table and continued his search.
The rest of the building was completely empty, despite his second search or red wings, scan. At least now he had the military back up, access to their resources was a life saver in times like these. He could track the bank statements, see where that led. The building was an even bigger gain. He had a location. For all he knew this was completely unrelated but it was still worth a shot. Besides, His last lead was likely nothing more than a drug bust, and he didn’t really have the jurisdiction for that.
On the other side of the city the lights flickered on the bottom floor of a well loved apartment building. Cement walls and a mouth guard protected the residents from any suspicion of what was happening in the basement.
When he first felt the cold metal press into his temples, his mind flashed to a darker time. Something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing. A dream. He couldn’t actually be back there, of course he couldn’t. This part in his life had passed. All Bucky had to do was wake up.
He didn’t open his eyes. That small voice of reason in the back of his skull told him not to. His mind protects him. Lot of good it would do him, there's only so much pain a man can endure before that little voice of resistance gives up.
Something clicked into place behind his head and the two metal plates against his head pressed together in an uncomfortable pressure. He only started screaming when the shocks started. Uncounted volts running through his brain in a calculated measure. Targeting one part of him at a time. His memories, personality, everything that Bucky had worked so hard to hold on to being ripped out of him. The small parts that he had identified as himself, not hydra, not the winter soldier. What he had held on to with an iron grip, the only light at the end of the tunnel, proof that he wasn’t what they made him.
Now even that was being taken from him.
As much as he wanted to keep his eyes closed, this forced them open. Staring at the blurry face of someone above him. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see.
“Ok, Chip him.” Sharon had underestimated how loud Bucky would be, she found herself slightly irritated by this, like he was wasting her time by being there.
After she had witnessed Bucky coming out of his programming so easily she started working on something new to help with that. It was baffling as to why Hydra hadn’t figured something similar out sooner.
Bucky felt something pinch on the back of his neck, then that feeling turned to a piercing. It was hard to feel over the electro shock, but then that stopped. All he could feel was the invasion of needles in the back of his neck, against his spine.
Pins and needles against his nerves, it was nothing like before. This was purely clinical. This wasn’t men and their fists and weapons, eager to make an example out of a failed soldier. This wasn’t men and their salivating mouths ready to take and take and take from him. This was a well oiled machine, making him into what they wanted.
Where hydra took pleasure in his pain, Sharon saw this as a means to an end. It was uncaring, not malicious. If Bucky could think maybe he would have considered this. For now the only thing he could think about was the pain. But soon that would subside and he would think what he was told to think.
The perfect soldier.
The pressure against his temples was relieved and he sat up. Muscle memory coming back to him with little effort. Sharon bent down to look him in the eyes, he didn’t share this eye contact. The Winter soldier stared blankly at the floor in front of him. There is nothing left of Bucky. Sergeant James “Bucky” Barns, it felt like so long ago, more deja vu than a memory.
That wasn’t him. He was not a sergeant. Drafted when he was 24, taken at 25. The rest of his life was spent killing. Taking from other people. It wasn’t a fair comparison but the man who now stood in front of Sharon had no concept of ‘fair’ anyway. His eyes were blank, staring forward into nothing, waiting for the next orders, the next job.
To say she took pleasure in this was a lie, Bucky and her had worked together and she was reluctant to even go through with this plan at first. Maybe if she had been there in the quiet hours, sleeping on the floor, hiding in Wakanda. Then she would have come to a different decision. But as it stood there was no redemption in the plans for the Winter Soldier.
The back of his neck had been fitted with a silver encased miniature version of the tools used to brainwash him. Not enough for a factory reset but enough to keep him in line. Enough to keep him from snapping out of it so easily and that was her main goal.
Now even as she admired her work, the clock was ticking. Sam would return soon and she needed to get her mission done. There was no time to lose.
“Put this on.” She threw him a tactical suit, only similar to his own in coloring. They equipped him with guns and knives. The muscle memory of his training clicked into place and he organized the equipment to efficiency. He looked like the Winter Soldier, he was the Winter Soldier.
Following the long debrief Bucky exited into the sunset reflected city. Sharon had talked to him like he was an employee, maybe it was her way of making peace with what she had done. Talking to him as if she still saw him as a real person. Bucky sat through it, he didn’t have an option.
On the other side of the city, Sam and Tores went over what they had learned from the documents he had collected. Finding an address from the blueprints and multiple bank statements leading back to a familiar account. The Power Broker. In the US. It wasn’t impossible but they had no motivation. No idea what The Power Broker was planning, what they wanted. All they had was a name and a building. That was enough. If it was The Power Broker that wanted Bucky, there wasn’t a lot of good that could come from that.
He loaded the directions on to his bracer and took off, leaving behind a gawking Tores. He was running up against a clock he couldn’t see, but even then the adrenaline was on his side.
Pretty soon he was coming up on a row of apartment buildings and confusion started to settle in. He rolled his eyes at the idea of having to go floor by floor again, but the blueprints only showed the lower level. Might as well start there.
As he landed the sun lowered in the sky, bathing the city in pink lights and shadows. He found a bunker staircase that led down under the building. It looked like a repurposed underground parking lot. Tall pillars of concrete and debris. He saw the original entrance, blocked off and cemented over. He saw the cracks in the ceiling, the drippings. On the blueprints there were plans for this to be cemented off, something about safety risks. They needed to build a stronger foundation and the parking lot was in the way.
Making his way around winding concrete-walls his eyes fell on what he assumed to be the main operations. Several generators hooked up to medical equipment, computers and a large operation in the center of the room. It looked like an operating table, bent up like a lawn chair. Surrounding it were wires and restraints, on the table bedside it was what looked like a headset. Wires connecting that to a secondary machine dripped off the table. There were medical supplies scattered on a nearby try and face masks discarded on the ground.
Whoever was here left in a hurry and not very long ago. Papers and notes scattered on the desks, mostly blank, but the ones that had writing were all written in russian. Sam had no idea what he was looking at, but he had a hunch. It didn’t matter. He was too late. It was already over, whatever plan had already started and he was behind. He had to find Bucky. Sharon had taken him to a hospital but he had no idea which one. Hopefully she had kept him safe. Whoever was looking for him already had a head start.
He didn’t yet understand how ironic this thought was.
Showing up to her house, he found it empty. No one answered the door. This was not ideal. Wherever Bucky was, he was in danger and now it was Sam’s problem. Ringing Sharon over and over, the line would just ring out. He began to think the worst, and he had no leads. Bucky and Sharon were both a-wall and the Power Broker was in the state, possibly the city. He kicked into gear heading straight back to Tores. The sun disappeared behind the horizon and night set in.
Tores was still on shift, thankfully and was willing to listen to Sam’s issues. Not that Sam was complaining. Everything he said could have been written in the mission statement. Never wasting a word.
“Bucky and Sharon are gone and the Power Broker is in the city. Bucky is the first priority.” Sam’s tone was stern and he dipped his head as he talked. Tores nodded to show he understood.
Trusting that Tores had his side of things under control Sam left again, keeping Tores on comms for any updates. So then started the search. Soaring back and forth, Redwing and his twin added to his eyes in the sky. If he was above ground, they would find him. Just a matter of time. The rushing wind didn’t help to distract from his racing heart beat. This was the first time he had felt a real genuine fear. Bucky could take care of himself, of course he could. But Sam knew what was on the line.
Images of that cold stare, blankness bordering on shell shock. Seeing the Winter soldier break through that steel door like it was drywall, and then keep coming. He had only survived that first encounter because he had stayed in the back line. But that's not the part that worried him. He didn’t think he could face Bucky. After watching that man struggle to pull himself out of the dark, on his own. He didn’t think he could face that again. Some part of him called it selfishness, another told him that the reason he couldn’t face it was because it was his fault.
The 10 minutes it took to find him felt like eternity. When he finally did it was a ping of body heat and vibranium walking through a dark alley. Redwing was the one to spot him as Sam wouldn’t have been able to against the dark of the alley. He was moving oddly. Ruffing with something in his hand, the other one held the wall and he was sort of hunched over. His metal arm was completely covered in a long sleeve and gloves. Bucky was faced away from Sam as he landed. Sam recognised the tight leather jacket and tactical gear and he realized what he was doing.
Whatever the plan was, step one was over.
Bucky was waiting for further orders.
Well he was, until he heard the jets and the heavy clunk of boots on the concrete. The Winter Soldier wiped around, revealing the short knife he was messing with in his hand. His face was covered with a mask that wrapped around his head, under his hair. Blood dripped from the knife and stained his neck and mask, feckling the exposed skin around the bridge of his nose and his eyes. Despite that it was clearly Bucky, but there was no look of recognition in his eyes. Sam’s heart splintered slightly seeing this. His stance was cold, framed by the brick walls that surrounded them and the dark cover of night.
He couldn’t imagine what Bucky was going through.
The winter soldier didn’t attack right away, his eyes flicked over Sam, analyzing him, waiting for him to make the first move. Seeing how he approached. This was not the brute force of determination to complete a mission, this was ‘survive until you are needed.” A cold and calculated tactic, that of an assassin, that of a machine.
“Bucky-” Sam couldn’t finish the sentence. Like a trigger, the Winter Soldier lunged toward him, closing the gap in two steps and a fraction of a second. He swung his metal arm in a heavy hit, then quickly twisting back with the knife in his other for another strike.
He had analyzed him and decided he was a threat.
Sam managed to block both hits, having to step back under the force of the super soldier. Bucky kept coming, catching his footing and kicking Sam in the gut. Sam brought the shield down on his leg hard as he stumbled. The Winter Soldier seemed to walk it off, as he countered with another double swing, Arm and then knife. Sam extended his wings blocking the assault and switching their positions as he jumped over Bucky, punching down with the shield. Bucky threw up his metal arm to protect his head and then quickly recovered, trying to swipe out Sam’s legs. The wings planted themselves in the ground in his way as Bucky backed out, kicking off and away to get back up.
He was relentless in his assault. Coming right back at him, with no break. Striking again and then switching the knife to his off hand to drive it into him. Sam managed to throw off the strike, missing his neck and planting itself in the shoulder of his left arm. The strike nearly knocked him off his feet. Sam pushed his shield up into Bucky’s chin, successfully getting him off Sam for now. The blow successfully disorientated him, momentarily distracting him. Sam took the opportunity to hit again. This time in the gut, Bucky’s metal arm came to catch it, pushing Sam off away and then swinging out to hit him.
Again Sam blocked, the metal on metal ringing out in the cramped alley way. Sam uses this moment to swing out his wing and strike Bucky in the arm, the vibranium of his wings cut into his arm, forcing Bucky to drop his hold.
As Bucky stepped forward to keep his balance, Sam caught sight of the back of his neck. The face mask latched in the back in a metal plate with a raised section and a small green light that stood out against Bucky’s hair. A thin line of dried blood dripped down the back of his neck, disappearing under his shirt.
Sam didn’t have too much time to think about that, as fast as he saw it, it was gone. The Winter Soldier was back. The Winter Soldier reached for the pistol he had on his hip, aiming at Sam. Shield up Sam deflected, the bullets flattening against the stronger metal. Sam’s wings slashed down, colliding with Bucky’s jaw, while the other one struck at his shoulder. He miscalculated, as the Winter soldier went down with the first hit, the second sliced just behind his neck. Taking off the protective plating and serving some of the wires.
The base plate stayed and blood started pooling from underneath it, dripping down his back. Not that Bucky had noticed, his arms locked up, curling into fists as he dropped to a knee.
Wave after wave of electric pulse fed directly into his spin, His scream was muffled by the mask as he struggled to bring his hand up to the back of his neck.
He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. His lungs constricted in his chest, he couldn’t open his mouth. A gritted drawl was the only sound he was capable of making.
Sam stood to the side. What was he supposed to do. Despite this his need to help kicked in and he made his way toward the threat. He pushed Bucky’s hair out of the way to see the metal plating, now covered in his own blood. Whatever he had done to it, it was activating. He had to get it off.
Bucky was begging to lose consciousness, heart rate speeding up and misfiring as the electrical current ran through him.
He was back there. In the chair, the basement, the face of his brother condemning him to pain. The voice of strangers controlling his body, his mind. He could feel the saw on his arm, the pliers in his body, against his bones. Pins and needles through her nerves. Masks and doctors and guns and knives. For a moment his mind cleared and he realized where he was, what had happened.
He would never escape it. There was no peace for the Winter Soldier. He finally understood. Sam wedged his shield between the skin and metal, bracing it against the back of Bucky’s head he yanked. The hinge popped and his mask fell, the blood slick chip scattering to the ground a few feet away.
In his last moments of consciousness Bucky took the first breath of fresh air he had maybe ever had. One that finally understood where his place was in the world. He finally understood, he would never be rid of the Winter Soldier.
Bucky’s stiff form dropped to the ground, Sam hadn’t realized he was breathing so hard. His body ached from the fight but all he could find in his heart was relief.
There were six puncture wounds that he could make out in the back of his friend's neck. Severe burn marks traced sparked out in a lightning pattern, wrapping round his neck and disappearing under his gear. Looking at the device, the thing had latched to his spine, the spines looked to be about two inches long. He was lucky they had come out in one piece.
He checked the vitals of his friend quickly and found he was for the most part fine. Sam was in much rougher shape, which was to be expected. His heart rate was elevated but he seemed to just be knocked out and he had learned from Steve that as long as he was in stable condition there really wasn’t anything to worry about. He should wake up in a few seconds. Then the real struggle would start.
In the meantime Sam radioed Tores and disarmed Bucky. He didn’t want him doing anything drastic. There was also the chance that he was still under the influence but Sam had seen the look in his eyes and he knew what was coming next.
He took a deep breath and leaned Bucky up against the wall. Sitting down in front of him, Sam put his shield on his back, and the wings away.
It was going to be a long night.
Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, he tried to raise his head and was hit with a wave of nausea.
“Hey, hey. Take it easy man.” Sam leaned in closer, he didn’t want to miss anything Bucky might say.
Buck’s eyes landed on his hands in his lap, the dirt and blood that covered his clothes and Sam and it all came back to him. He sighed. A long and heavy sigh. Well deserved in Sam’s opinion.
It was just too much. The realization that he wasn’t safe, everything done to him in Wakanda was for nothing. Years of Therapy washed away after four words.
Four words.
That was the part that he couldn’t let go of. He had struggled to regain every semblance of personality. Every scrap of Bucky Barnes he could find, and all it took to undo those years of work…
Four words.
He just crumbled, silent tears started to fall into his hands, he couldn’t wash away the blood. It would stain his hands forever and he had let it. His eyes glazed over, the last part of his survival instincts trying desperately to protect him from reality. It wasn’t enough.
Sam placed his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, trying to ground him. Bucky didn’t react. He was so tired, unable to lift his head all he could see was blood. There was nothing that mattered other than this. His own head self-destructs around him. Parts of him tearing his insides to shreds while others fought to fend them off. Forever the internal conflict. Everything he ever touched broke in his hands. He closed his eyes. Bucky didn’t want to look at his hands anymore, but the image remained. Too much blood. It didn’t stop the tears from flowing.
He couldn’t breathe.
He needed space, he needed air. He needed to run until his lungs bled and his heart gave out. It was all too much, the blood on his hands felt like acid, reminding him of his sins. Hands on his shoulders, shackling him down to the earth, down to these feelings. As if punishing him for remembering.
He couldn’t breathe.
His breathing picked up as did his heart rate, dragging in shallow breaths, the cold hair dried his throat, tearing at his vocal cords. He needed to breathe. There wasn’t air, there wasn’t room. Something in his chest, against his lungs. It kept him from breathing.
“Bucky.” Sam pressed into his shoulder’s harder, Bucky had been shaking for a few minutes now, hyperventilating and staring down at his hands. It was like talking to a shell. He was talking to a shell.
“I can't do this again.” His voice was hoarse, nearly gone. If Sam hadn’t been listening he wouldn’t have heard it. He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. Nothing that would help, nothing that he hadn’t already said.
“I can’t do this again.” The second time his voice was even smaller, like a plea. He was begging. For a break? For rest?
For anything beyond survival.
Sam didn’t move his hands, he had to keep him here, protect him. Bucky was only in this situation because of him and so it was Sam’s responsibility to keep him safe now.
“I'm gonna get you out of here, ok?” He was looking for any kind of reaction, anything he could latch on to in order to gauge how bad it was. Sam tried to pull Bucky to his feet, but he didn’t move, just staring down at his bloodied hands.
“I don’t want to do this again.” It was a change in wording but the implications were much worse than before. Bucky had no motivation to continue on, he had been shown time and time again that no matter how hard he worked to better himself, to heal. No matter how many times he crawled back out of his cave, the world would turn him into what they made him. He was the Winter Soldier, and that was never gonna change. It had to be some cruel joke.
Sam said something into his comms but Bucky didn’t hear it. His shoulder hurt but it didn’t need immediate attention.
“Bucky, I need you to stay with me. It's gonna be alright, I'll get you out of here” He tried to encourage Bucky to look at him but it wasn’t working. Bucky was just trying to catch his breath before speaking again.
“Sam, I don't think-. He choked on his words. Taking a breath, he tried again.
I don’t think I'm the type you save.” He finally looked Sam in the eyes, there was nothing there. Sam’s heart shattered, digging into his ribs like glass. He had often thought of Bucky as one of the strongest people he had ever known. To come out of what he had with still such a straight moral to him, to even be able to walk away from that. He had seen many cases of people’s lives ruined by their service. Unable to even step outside their front door due to different issues. Bucky had gone through all of that hell and came back wanting to protect and serve.
He saw none of that now.
He had said it with such a final tone, as if it was the only thing left to say.
Whatever had been left of Bucky after the Winter soldier, it was gone now. Taken from him by whoever had that book. Now what sat in front of him was, what was not James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. He was a stranger wearing his friend's face.
Someone Sam might never see again.
“Don't say that.” Sam patted Bucky on the shoulder, working to distract him in any way he could think of. His voice held force, he was telling him.
“We’re getting out of this, you and me, just like always.” Sam’s words didn’t have much effect. He couldn’t stop looking at his hands. Watching the blood sink into the creases of his gloves. He had to take them off, get away from the blood.
He had to escape the Winter Soldier.
Bucky ended up shakily removing his gloves, leaving them laying in his lap. He felt better seeing his hands. It was an odd thing to latch on to as heavily as he had but this was something that could be fixed. Blood on his hands, physical blood, could be fixed.
Bucky was going into shock. The protection part of his mind finally winning out over survival. It wasn’t much but it was helping him calm down.
“We have to move. Can you get up?” Bucky didn’t hear him but he didn’t resist when Sam tried to pull him to his feet. For a moment he was painfully reminded of what he had put Bucky through. The weeks of orders weighed heavy on his mind.
He threw Bucky’s arm over his shoulder, he just looked tired. Eyes unfocused resting on the ground walking with Sam to wherever they were headed.
Three weeks and four words and Bucky’s life was over. Heartless actions of the people his friend had trusted and that was it. Over and over his right to heal, his option to get better was ripped from his hands and this was no different. The world had told him that he wasn’t welcome.
Now, finally, he could hear it.