The Chronicles Of The Winter || Part XII - The End

The chronicles of the winter || Part XII - The End

Part II  || Part III || Part IV || Part V || Part VI || Part VII|| Parta VIII || Part IX || Part X || Part XI  continuation of imagine

Word Count: 13559

Warnings: none 

Author: Beast

Habit and impulse were so easy to fall back on, thinking being a costly and dangerous liability. The Asset had learned that early on, it having been forced into his program, carved into his skin among the patchwork of scars so it became a part of him. This time, however, this time it was different. This time when he woke up on that familiar cold table, seeing white-coated techs hovering over him and his wounds like vultures, he didn't feel the programming trying to lull him into docility. Oh no, this time a latent instinct, old and raw and powerful, bubbled through the cracks in HYDRA's conditioning and screamed in his subconscious, spurring him to act.

Fight.

Find.

Protect.

A snarl worthy of a predator tore its way out of his throat as he shoved the nearest tech away, the force of it throwing him clear into the opposite wall. The rest of them scattered like insects, shouting in varied languages as he pulled himself into a sitting position, glaring at them from behind the mess of his hair. A half-dozen IVs were laced into his veins, a likely but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to keep him asleep. The stiffness along his shoulder told him they had likely closed the sniper's wound, and he quickly realized his dislocated joint had been pushed back into place and immobilized with thick medical tape. They'd replaced his blood-soaked shirt with a dark grey one, and as if to mock him, it bore the SHIELD logo embossed in shiny blue thread over his heart.

"где." The soldier demanded, forcing himself to his feet, the drip-lines tugged free of his arms. The HYDRA agents and techs skittered in panic, yowling like panicked animals in a hunter's trap. When he didn't get a response did he bark the word out again, this time in English. "Where." If he wasn't told, he wouldn't hesitate to tear the place to shreds to find out. Before any of the cowardly technicians could answer, however, several HYDRA agents in full combat gear poured into the room, armed to the teeth.

One moved too close, holding a syringe, and the assassin lunged without hesitation. His metal arm felt sluggish and heavy, having been in the middle of being repaired when he woke, but that didn't hinder his deadliness any as he swung with all the force he could muster at the man's jaw. A grim sort of smirk appeared on his features, feeling bone crack and give under his fist, the soldier dropping into a crumpled heap at his feet. He crushed the dropped syringe under his boot, the sound of the glass shattering morbidly satisfying.

Something was shouted in a language he couldn't catch, but he didn't give the soldiers the luxury of time to coordinate themselves. A scalpel, lifted from the near table that held the medical supplies, in his capable hands slit the throat of one of the agents before he even realized what had happened, the bleeding man roughly kicked away into another soldier. Another's throat was caught in his metal fingers when he went to prod him with a stunstick, the vertebra crunching loudly with a single squeeze. The body was casually tossed aside, a mere afterthought. Chaos erupted, which was exactly what the Asset had wanted, as he was able to easily dispatch agent after agent, until in the confusion he was able to slip out into the hall. He slammed the door shut behind him, bending the metal frame enough that the soldiers inside weren't getting out anytime soon.

Alarms began to blare, and he knew he didn't have much time. He needed to find where they were keeping Steve, needed to find out if he was alive, needed to get him out. The layout of the building was familiar, and he soon found himself tracing mental maps that he couldn't consciously remember. Identical doors in identical halls, yet somehow he knew the way, ending up in a neglected corner of whatever backwater HYDRA base this was. Detention level. He knew these rooms all too well. Broken memories of conditioning, of training and discipline flashed through his mind. It was enough to sour his stomach.

Only one of the rooms had light filtering through the dingy door window, and he just knew that had to be where they were keeping Steve. The door was thick steel, reinforced and heavy and bolted with more locks than he cared to count. It could have been made of vibranium and it wouldn't have been enough to keep him out. The Asset tore through the locks he could, picking the others he couldn't, using every skill in his considerable arsenal but his patience only lasted so long. Normally he could wait for days, one of a sniper's greatest attributes, but this was Steve and he needed inside now.

The sound of metal rending and groaning filled the level, the soldier slamming his metallic fist into the door over and over, bending and deforming the surface bit by bit. The servos and artificial tendons in his arm screamed in protest but he scarcely cared, eventually making a dent deep enough he could get his fingers inside the stop. He braced himself and pulled with all his weight, the fatigued and aged metal shredding in his hand. That just fed his ambition, and soon enough he was tearing through the door with both hands, unfeeling to the shards that sliced through his flesh and bone hand, and to the hot slickness of blood as it poured from his palm.

Desperation was beginning to claw at his mind. He knew agents would find out where he was soon enough, and he couldn't let them take him away. Not before he knew if Steve was still alive. Standing back, the assassin kicked the door with every ounce of strength he had. The metal gave way with a great resounding shudder, the hinges failing and door swinging open violently. He was inside before the door even had the chance to hit the wall when it swung wide.

Relief isn't anywhere near strong enough a word to convey the emotion the soldier felt when he saw Steve, battered and broken and still as he was, breathing and alive. At his side in an instant, the assassin assessed the Captain's condition and wounds within moments. The man was unconscious, the worst of his wounds hidden under layers and layers of pink-tinged gauze. Smaller injuries had been ignored, his skin was pallor and in some distant part of his mind the soldier recognized this. Recognized a tiny kid with a rattling cough and pale skin who always scared him half to death with the fact that he might not make it through winter.

Medical supplies still covered the table to the side of the cot he was placed on, and without a second thought or any concern for being captured, the former Soviet started to pick through the contents. He wrapped a quick bandage around the cuts to his hand to stem the bleeding, not wanting to risk getting it on Steve when who knew what had been pumped into his system. Clean gauze was soaked in disinfectant, the excess wrung out before it was pressed to a shallow cut that burned an angry red across the Captain's cheek. The serum had already begun healing his body, the wound already mostly closed, but for some reason he found himself fussing over it regardless.

The soldier hadn't patched anyone up save himself for decades. He remembered, very dimly, bandaging someone with crimson hair that glowed like a dying fire, but the memory was so hazy and distorted that it might as well have been a dream. He was used to sewing himself up, to prying bullets out of his body and mending jagged pieces of flesh back together. As a result, delicateness was not something he was intimately familiar with, yet it seemed his body remembered better than his brain, as he cleaned the man's wounds with an unfamiliar tender gentleness.

A crackle of memory fizzled in his mind, of him sitting in a muddy, snow-filled trench, tearing a scarf free of his neck and brandishing it as if to threaten some other person. He dimly recalled blood, from a wound of some kind to the arm of someone dressed in blue, and angrily muttering something about not signing up to be a mother as he wrapped his scarf around the limb. He remembered laughter from people he didn't know, or couldn't remember, and being called a jerk. The memory faded as quickly as it appeared, and within a second of its passing it was all but forgotten in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

"Well, seems like the dosage of sedative we gave you was a bit off." A calm voice suddenly broke the silence, the assassin's muscles seizing up in remembered fear as familiarity crashed over him like a wave. He didn't move for a long moment, bloody fingers hovering over another cut to the Avenger's chin, as if his stillness could be taken as a sign of submission.

There was an amused hum from behind him, one that faded into a dark, twisted sort of laugh. "At attention, воин." The order was issued sternly, and the soldier found himself turning around to face the man, posture stiff with unease and the beginnings of fear. The man, he knew him, the name Aiden provided by the bits of memory that survived each successive wipe. A crooked grin spread across the General's face and it caused the Asset's stomach to churn.

"They warned me that you were far more… damaged than we would have liked." Black spoke with all the casualness as if they were merely speaking about the weather, "It would have been easier just to put you down, but since we have Captain America in addition to our Winter Soldier…" he trailed off, malevolent smile spreading further across his face as he approached with a proud air to his movements. Once he was close enough, the suited man regarded him with all the affection one might have for a fine weapon, eyes appraising but cold and calculating, seeking only value.

"Why, I think what's left of SHIELD would do just about anything to get their hands on him, and you as well. Oh, the secrets they think you have… they'd do anything to wring them out of you, воин, but I'm never going to let that happen, don't you worry." The acidic sweetness to his voice made the soldier's blood run as cold as the river that haunted his nightmares. It was a tone all too familiar, yet for what felt like lifetimes that tone had been the closest semblance to kindness he'd ever experienced, and he'd latched onto it desperately. Now it made him sick.

Aiden brushed past him, leaning over the cot to look at the Captain's wounds. One of his hands reached out, and the soldier let out a growl that faded into a whine at the glare he received. The man's hand remained raised with a hint of threatening intent, and the assassin felt his muscles tense in the expectation of a blow. His programming might have degraded greatly due to being so long out of cryostasis, but enough of the framework was intact for him to not attack the man or outwardly resist his commands. He could only watch as he withdrew his hand, walking back towards the shattered door, his back to him.

"I see you have some… attachment to the Captain." The General's tone held the slightest hint of bitterness, something he knew was very dangerous, "That will not be tolerated. However…" his voice went quiet, that knowing smirk once again firmly planted on his features as he spun on his heel to face the soldier, "If you cooperate and let us fix all that damage Captain Rogers and his SHIELD allies have done to your mind, we might let him live. If you don't have any more of those outbursts, we might even let you see him." It was a ruse, he knew it for sure, but he had no choice but to nod in silent agreement. Arguing would signal that HYDRA's control had faltered dangerously, and he couldn't risk Steve's safety. For the first time in his memory, he found himself putting the well-being of another before his own.

"Good, good. In that case I expect you to return to medical immediately and let the doctors finish up their work. We need you in working order as soon as possible. I expect an update on your condition in three hours." With that, Aiden Black left the room. The soldier's hearing could pick up on the sound of footsteps running down the hall to retrieve him, likely signaled by the General, and he only had a few seconds. He couldn't run, couldn't try to fight or escape, as that would get Steve killed and he couldn't bring himself to even consider that possibility.

He'd have to play this game, even fall back under HYDRA's command if it meant keeping the other man alive. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. The soldiers crowded the room a half-second later, surrounding him and shepherding him out and away from the room, away from Steve. One of them fit the muzzle-mask over his face, and with its acquainted confines the soldier felt a foreign sense of revulsion budding in his chest. The familiarity of it all, and the horror that he found himself so easily slipping back into the mannerisms and routine, made the new fear that he might lose what little fragments of himself he'd managed to gain back seem very, very real.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The soft, rhythmic pattern of water drops pulled Steve out of the fog of unconsciousness, cutting through the static that seemed to fill his mind. He didn't feel any pain, not yet, but he felt heavy and weak and so very tired. Stagnant, stale air coated his throat, thick with a sharp, sanitized scent that settled on his tongue with a faintly bitter, familiar taste. The air itself felt dense, as if he was breathing through cotton shoved down his throat; if he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was having an asthma attack. There was a rattling, ghastly wheeze every handful of seconds in addition to the dripping that had woken him, and it took a long, sobering moment before he realized that he was hearing his own breathing.

Drip.

Drip.

His torso felt constricted, tight and immobile under what felt like a cocoon of gauze and medical tape. As uncomfortable as it was it assured him that his wounds had been tended to, but by whom the Captain had no idea. An experimental twitch of his fingers assured him that he wasn't paralyzed and could move, however difficult it may have been. Everything felt fuzzy, it was the only way to describe it, unable to feel or hear anything clearly. Everything was blurred into a mess of muffled noises and sweeping sensations, nothing distinct.

Drip.

A slight shift of his head told him just how stiff and sore his neck was. How long was I out? The thought struck him suddenly, followed immediately by the cold electricity of fear. Where am I? His eyes were forced open, but shut immediately due to the blinding light of the room. Steve groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, tilting his head trying to block out every bit of that painful brightness. The movement made him aware that his head was propped up slightly, a pillow tucked behind it. It reminded him of when he'd have respiratory infections in winter and Bucky would give him all the pillows to keep his head and shoulders lifted so he could breathe easier—

Bucky. Emily.

The panic that gripped him was all-consuming, shredding through the muddled fog in his mind like iron claws. "B-Buck… Em..." the words barely left his throat, voice hoarse and rasping and lungs suddenly alight with crackling fire at the effort. The words brought the taste of copper to his lips, blood he was sure, but he scarcely cared. "B… Bucky! Emily!" His eyes shot open again, ignoring the pain of the light and he looked frantically for any sign of the soldier. Everything came crashing back in a tangle of bloody memories—the fight, the sniper, Bucky collapsing in front of him, felled by the commander—and in horror he realized they had been captured. His own pain was ignored as he tried to push himself up, the room spinning as he did so, his own weakness now undeniably apparent.

A strong, cold hand gripped his shoulder, pushing him back down onto the cot before he could even think of trying to search. Moments later a figure moved into his vision, leaning over him with a face obscured by a curtain of dark, unruly hair. He heard a hushed word of Russian, tone soft, reassuring in its sound although he didn't understand it. The Captain's vision was too blurry to see many details, but then again, he didn't need any details to recognize him.

A dozen words tried to spill out of him at once—you're alright, you're here, I was so scared for you, Buck, where's Em — but nothing left him save a wheezy exhale as he smiled in relief. He wanted to stand, to make sure Bucky was alright, to tend to any wounds he had, but he was all too aware that he couldn't do a damned thing in this state. Bucky was here and in the end that was the most important thing. Everything else could be confronted and dealt with later.

Without another thought Steve had raised his left arm, hesitantly brushing a few stray strands of hair out of the way before cupping his cheek. He wanted to make sure he was really there, that this wasn't some horrible HYDRA trick, that it wasn't the blood loss and whatever medicines he was full of making him see things. Bucky's skin was cold, rough against his fingers, but very much alive and very much real. He didn't even try to stop his smile from spreading a bit when he saw how the soldier leaned into the touch a bit instead of shying away or swatting at his hand.

"… about time you woke up." Bucky's voice was quiet and scratchy, just the barest hint of a Brooklyn accent shining through as he moved away, turning to look at what Steve guessed was the door. He let his hand fall back to his side, cringing a bit when he felt a tug at the crook of his arm. IV line; must have been what the dripping was. He tried to ask how long he'd been out but only managed to cough, tacky blood rattling in his aching lungs. The soldier glanced down to him at the sound, but quickly went back to his vigil.

"Three days" of course he'd have been able to know what he was trying to say, they'd been able to finish each other sentences in the past, "you were hurt bad, Steve, real bad. Still hurt bad, but I won't let them touch you." His voice trailed off, words carrying an edge as sharp as any blade, but also the barest hint of sadness. It was the most Bucky had spoken to him since he found him sleeping seemingly lifetimes ago, and in some distant part of the Captain his soul practically sung. He sounded more like Bucky, more like the cocky jerk he'd grown up with in Brooklyn than he ever had since he'd become the Winter Soldier. A second later just what he had said sunk in, and his optimism wavered.

"… w-who?" the Avenger just barely croaked it out, a sense of dread sitting heavy in his heart. He knew who had captured them, knew where they were, but maybe he could deny it all away. After all, Bucky was here with him, right? They would have separated them for sure...

"HYDRA." The name was spat out, deadly venom saturating his voice. Steve's blood ran cold in his veins, the room falling silent with only the constant drip drip of the isotonic IV bag keeping time between them with its ceaseless rhythm. That little bit of hope that he had been clinging to wavered, knowing just how bad a situation they were in, but it didn't go out. Emily and Sam were still out there, and he knew they wouldn't give up on him. They'd find them, somehow; Emily was clever and resourceful, she'd pick up the trail and find them, and Sam was loyal and wouldn't stop until he was found.

His lungs hurt too much to try and continue the conversation, and as his eyes adjusted he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The measly cot he was lying on was pushed against a stone wall that just seemed to exude a wet chill, meaning they were likely somewhere underground. Light buzzed blearily from a thin fluorescent fixture in the ceiling, a pitchy and irritating hum occasionally creeping over the drip drop of the IV. The walls were dingy and ill-kempt, but a glance to the door surprised him. Door was a loose term as it looked like it had been holding back a tiger, shattered glass and broken old steel littering the floor, but the door itself was made of new shiny metal. Judging from the debris, the damaged door he was currently looking at was a replacement and the first one made up the scraps on the floor. It took a few seconds before Steve realized it wasn't from Bucky attempting to break out, but from him breaking in.

That realization made his chest tighten, breath hitching slightly as he tried to breathe around the lump that built in his throat. His last hazy moments of consciousness in that alleyway, of Bucky crouched in front of him teary-eyed with gentling hands pressed to his wounds, he'd thought he had dreamed them. Thought that in his pained delirium he'd imagined hearing the soldier's meek voice saying "I'm not leaving you behind". Thought that maybe he'd mistaken seeing Bucky breaking through for those precious few minutes, and it looks like he just might have. He'd clearly torn his way out of wherever HYDRA had tried to lock him up, but instead of making an escape, he found him and broke in and stayed right by his side.

"Y-you… stayed with m-me…" Steve's voice was hardly above a raspy whisper, vision distorting as tears welled up. He wasn't sure if it was the pain or medicine or just a moment of vulnerability that brought them out, but he didn't make any attempts to hide them. Bucky protected me. He'd fought to keep HYDRA away from him instead of saving himself. Even if Buck didn't remember much of his past he had still fought to keep him safe like all those years ago. The Avenger breathed heavily, choking on his own words as he tried to say too many things at once. He knew this man wasn't the Bucky he knew so well from his past, but he was bits and pieces of him and he wasn't going to stop helping him even if the suave jerk he had spent his life with never really came back.

"Quit that" Bucky's voice was gruff, but the fingers that hesitantly ruffled his hair a moment later were gentle and familiar. "You're gonna tear that lung again if you keep talking. Get some more sleep, I'll be here when you wake up." It wasn't a command from the Winter Soldier, it was spoken too softly for that, instead it sounded more like back in their apartment in the old days, when Bucky would try to wrangle him to bed when he was sick and not cooperating. He couldn't count how many times Buck had just picked up all coughing hundred and ten pounds of him and put him to bed under every moth-eaten blanket they owned, no matter how much Steve protested. He never admitted it to him, but after his mom had died, Bucky's sometimes over-protective mollycoddling had meant the world to him. “Buck... Where's Emily?” suddenly Steve blinked, narrowing his eyebrows. “Where's she?”

Winter Soldier let out a quiet sigh, turning his eyesight away.

“Buck...” Steve felt like his heart stopped within second. “I have to know.” “She's probably dead” Bucky shrughed slightly, without a shadow of emotions on his face. “I haven't heard from her since many days.”

Bucky continued to run his fingers through Steve's hair, something he'd done countless times when the artist had been sick and confined to Buck's bed. The radiator in Steve's old room had always had piss-poor timing when it came to breaking, so whenever he had shown the slightest sign of illness Buck had surrendered his much-warmer room and they both slept curled up on that ratty old bed to try and keep warm. He wasn't sure if Bucky remembered any of that or if he was just acting on instinct or something else, but just like it had back then in their apartment, it put the Captain to sleep in only a few minutes.

With him lulled back into sleep so quickly, he hadn't had the time to notice that Bucky was dressed back into his combat gear, or see the troubled, guilty expression that he wore. Bucky hadn't wanted him to see either.

The passing of days no longer registered, the only timestamps he recalled being changes in the Captain's condition. Some days he was awake when he was bidden time to spend in the cell, most times he was unconscious or in a restorative sleep as the serum tried to patch his body back together. The tainted, imperfect serum that flowed in his own veins was doing much the same, skin and bones mending beneath his clothing. It burned with a throbbing sort of heat and sometimes hours passed as he passively observed the healing, watching his own flesh knitting back together until only scars remained.

His body was healthier, the Asset noticed dimly, his new handlers eager to get him back to working conditions as soon as possible. The constant IV drips, the strange injections, the foodstuffs he was prodded to eat, they'd all filled him out so he didn't look quite so emaciated. He halfheartedly guessed that the serum had busied itself rebuilding his muscles with the amble nutrients he was getting as much as it was healing his wounds.

With his shoulder healing up, the white-coated techs had taken to repairing the extensive damage to his prosthetic. It now moved fluidly, easily, the burn that gnashed its teeth into his artificial nerves now abated and calmed. The plates had been smoothed and repaired, the blood and grime cleaned away, although the red star he had tried to scratch off with his own fingernails and anything within reach those first few weeks remained marred and damaged. The techs didn't try to reapply it; now that he was no longer tied to the Red Room and the Soviets, they had no need to flaunt their emblem.

He knew it was only a matter of time before they'd try to deploy him, to test his programing, but he knew it was mostly due to their eagerness to try and patch the damage that had been caused by the exposing of SHIELD as HYDRA. Pierce was dead, but the saying still held true; cut off one head, two more will take its place. Aiden Black was not the new leader, but he had fallen in as his new handler, and that bit of his programming was still sound enough to prevent him from refusing orders from the man.

Today, however, he'd been granted time with the Captain after preforming well in training. He knew that Black wanted to wipe him, to rebuild the programming and perhaps even try the same with the healing Captain, but he knew that the man couldn't. This facility lacked the proper equipment to carry out that procedure safely, or to rewrite and build the programming back into his mind. It was likely why they were even letting him see the other man. It was a way to keep him under control, giving him time with him like a dog being trained and rewarded with scraps. He ought to have been offended but honestly he didn't care; any time with Steve was worth whatever hell they put him through.

His earlier thoughts were all pushed aside as soon as he entered the room they were keeping Steve in. The soldiers always left them alone, Black convinced in his control over the Asset, and he preferred it this way. He knew he was always under surveillance, but the illusion of peace he had with the Captain was enough. Despite his few hours of reprieve here he never allowed his guard to lower, never spoke out of turn or gave any indication that the programming had slipped. He couldn't allow that knowledge to fall into Black's hands. He could find some way to wipe him clean and order him to kill the man he'd fought so hard to defend. The thought alone made his breathing falter.

"… Bucky?" blinking, his focus was pulled back to the present, to the Captain laid out on the cot. The Asset straightened himself, shoved down all his disjointed thoughts, padded over to the bedside to look down at him. He might have the perfected serum but he had been wounded horrifically; he was still all but bedridden with the injuries he'd sustained. He was half convinced the only reason he survived at all was because the Captain was just too damn stubborn to die. Dim memories of back alley fights, bright blond hair matted with blood and halfhearted smiles mired by bruising and dirt flitted across his mind for a brief moment.

The Asset didn't reply with words, merely humming in response as he sat down in the empty chair next to the cot. Some distant part of him was glad to see that Steve was awake and aware, as the last few visits he'd been groggy and barely able to speak, mumbling in a drug and pain-induced haze about things the Soldier didn't remember. It was stressful, but he would rather spend his time here, questioned over things he didn't understand or know, than be primed and molded to fall back into HYDRA's command.

"… you're in gear." Steve's voice was quiet, but he could still hear the apprehension and resignation in his tone. It bothered the Asset greatly. Black had hinted at possibly sending him out on some sort of simple assignment so he'd dressed himself in his heavy Kevlar vest and armor, hiding his healing wounds and returning build. The less Steve knew about how long he'd been trapped here the better. The last thing he needed was him hatching some idiotic scheme to escape that would get him killed.

"… d'you get your orders?" the words came out of his mouth slurred and soft, his mind obviously still a bit hazed from whatever drugs they had to have pumped him full of to keep him manageable. It set the Soldier's teeth on edge, the thought of them doing something like that to Steve, but he couldn't protest or else run the risk of being separated fully. The statement did, however, fire some distant, disjointed memory. He could almost smell the musty air of some damp alleyway, blood in the mouth of his friend as he spoke and looked at him in a strange mix of admiration and sadness. It made his heart ache in a way he wasn't familiar with, even without any further context to bolster it.

"… yeah, Steve." His voice was still rough with disuse, awkward and stiff and lacking in the emotion Steve held when he talked. The last time he'd been here the other man had panicked, remembering their capture, tried to fight his way free of the web of IV line that held him. At least this way, with him lost in his own sleepy awareness, he was easy to convince all was well although every lie he told tasted bitter on his tongue.

"Be careful, Buck." Steve mumbled a bit when the Asset stood and began to pick at his wound wrappings, drawing his eyes from his work to meet his. They were hazy from pain and sleep, greyed and sick looking in a way that made the Soldier's stomach knot up. He swallowed thickly and focused on checking all of Steve's wounds, not trusting any of the HYDRA medics or their work. Most of his wounds had closed, the deepest pink with new-grown scar tissue and the lesser wounds already silvered and faded into his skin.

"I will." The response was automatic, not looking away from his task now. He was replacing the packing in Steve's side, where the sniper round had ripped his chest cavity open. Even the serum was having trouble with the wound, and if it hadn't been for that (and his damn fool stubbornness) he surely would have bled out right there in the street.

Steve made a noise halfway between a whimper and groan when he started to pull the bloodied, coagulated mess of packing out of the wound, obviously feeling it even through the fog of painkillers. He squirmed enough to make his task difficult, but at the same time it lifted his spirits somewhat. His strength was coming back, slowly, but it was a good sign. His body was starting to heal enough for his system to begin filtering the medicines in his body more efficiently; a hazy memory bubbled up of Steve complaining about Morita's morphine shot not taking the edge off a bullet wound he'd gotten in the calf. This had to be a good sign. It just had to be.

The wound still looked horrific, and he knew he couldn't chance an escape with Steve in this state. The ragged tear was having trouble healing over due to just how much tissue loss and damage he'd sustained, despite the serum flowing in his veins. Even with Steve still moving around he was able to place more sterile packing into the wound and wrap it tight with gauze and medical tape, after treating it with a potent antibacterial wash that he made sure to carry on his person at all times. That hadn't been fun. Steve had gasped hoarsely and it'd hurt him to hear, but it needed to be done. He still didn't trust these HYDRA doctors to treat the wounds correctly, even though he had little formal medical training himself. It didn't matter in his mind; his body and muscle memory knew Steve and how to treat him better than anyone else and like hell he was going to just sit passively by and let someone who didn't know the first thing about Steve Rogers try to patch his wounds.

With his work finished and Black no doubt waiting on him, the Soldier knew he had to cut his visit short. The man had mentioned something about a cleanup mission, to take care of some SHIELD holdouts that had grouped up near where he and Steve had been picked up. It would be a quick and clean mission. They'd likely pair him with the surviving members of the Strike unit to keep him under observation, but he could easily use their fear of him to make them keep their distance. He had a feeling these 'SHIELD holdouts' might be whoever Steve had alerted the night they were captured. If that was the case this mission was going to go very poorly.

"I'm leaving, don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." The Soldier mumbled a bit, not wanting to leave but knowing he couldn't stay. He gently smoothed down Steve's unruly hair with his right hand, always the right, something he felt like he'd done countless times a hundred lifetimes ago. When he was around the other man it felt like he went on autopilot, doing things he had no clear conscious memory of ever knowing how to do, yet with the ease and familiarity as if he'd been doing them all his life. He knew how to calm him down, how he liked his pillows just so, how he had an awful habit of kicking the blankets off in his sleep, things he had no business knowing yet he did.

"No promises, Buck." Steve breathed out heavily, eyes already half-lidded with drowsy exhaustion but with a crooked grin on his face. The Soldier felt a near overwhelming urge to roll his eyes and swat his shoulder but he held back, knowing he was still badly wounded and not wanting any sign of playfulness to be seen by the cameras. He merely brushed a few dirty blond strands of hair out of Steve's face instead, hiding the action by pretending to hold his palm there to check his temperature. It was a poor ruse, with his fingers lingering a moment too long, body too loose with the feeling of safety, but he didn't think it would be caught.

This mission had him nervous. It sat low in his stomach like a weight of molten lead, burning and heavy and disorienting. It felt familiar in some distant way; he remembered feeling it before, while sitting in the snow at the edge of some high cliff, the snow kept off him with a shield held above his head by the man he was leaning heavily against for warmth. The memory was pushed down as he closed the door behind him, lock clicking softly at his back before he allowed himself to be pushed by the decayed programming to report to the command center. The sooner he completed his assignment the sooner he could return to Steve's side, and that was the only thought that kept his body in motion.

"Have you heard anything back from Jarvis, Stark? We've got to narrow down our search parameters."

The past few weeks had been complete and utter hell. Without SHIELD, running a rescue mission for one Steven Grant Rogers and one possibly-hostile Winter Soldier had been, to put it mildly, completely fucking exhausting. But, this was hardly enough to make Emily Vandom crack. She'd done more with less resources and less time, and this time she had friends to help her. She poured herself another mug of coffee, glancing over to Stark tapping away at one of his fancy tablets and to Wilson and his makeshift workstation on the floor with his wingpack.

After last time when they got separated, Emily didn't know what to do and how to help Bucky and Steve, so she did the last thing that remained – she had to contact with Sam Wilson, who was (as she knew) a closest friend of Steve.

Sam, although she had known him not too long, had slotted himself into the ragtag group as easily as clockwork, as if he'd been crafted to be a part of their unit. For the first week he'd housed both herself and Barton, who'd come as soon as Emily had filled him in on the situation. It was reassuring having her partner in crime back at her side. Stark, for all his crassness and bluster, had dropped everything when she informed him of Steve's capture. As difficult as he was to work with some days, he really could be an invaluable ally as long as he kept himself occupied.

"Jarvis is going as fast as he can but there's a lot of data to go through," Tony's voice was heavy with lost sleep, as if the dark patches under his eyes and the hot coffee mug held tight in his hand weren't enough of a giveaway, "HYDRA's hiding themselves pretty well, or what's left of it anyway. They're probably disguising their shipments and covering their tracks more than usual. I doubt they'd take them out of the city yet, it'd draw too much attention, but, it is HYDRA so who knows."

Tony must have repeated that a hundred times in a hundred different ways, and she knew that the tension was getting to them all, but it didn't make her any less anxious. They'd moved into Steve's apartment and the empty next door apartment after contacting Sharon, who provided her keys to the locks which had yet to be changed. She was doing what she could to aid in the search, but with her new job in the FBI and Emily still in hot political water, she didn't want to add any fuel to that fire with her presence. If word got lose in the government that Captain America had been captured while housing the Winter Soldier, well, the repercussions were something none of them wanted to deal with.

"I'm going up to check the perimeter with Clint. Let me know if you find anything, and while Jarvis works maybe you could give Sam a hand." Sitting idle and waiting just wasn't in her nature. Sam was working on his damaged wingpack, which Tony had started to repair but had to drop to prep Jarvis for the scan of the city's information apparatus. They'd need Sam's help once the AI located whatever HYDRA hellhole Steve and the Winter Soldier had been taken to. Even though Steve seemed to trust him, there was still a wary part of her that couldn't dismiss the possibility that maybe the Winter Soldier had lead Steve into a trap, that he'd been a Trojan horse or some form of bait to lure him into HYDRA's clutches. It was a grim and farfetched possibility, but one that was all too real.

The cool air outside once she reached the roof was a welcome source of sobriety, washing away her muddled thoughts and letting her release her own tensions with a soft exhale. The last week had damn near run her ragged. To have something like this happen so soon after the fall of SHIELD, before she'd had a chance to really recover, was just not something she had ever expected to happen. She'd thought she would have had a bit more time before she'd have to pay her debt back to Steve for saving her life.

"Lower levels secure, how're things up here?" she sat down heavily near the archer, just in case he had his hearing aids turned down. He was perched on the corner of the building, goggled eyes on the building entrance and the surrounding streets. His bow was held in loose fingers, eyes never stopping their scan of the streets when he replied.

"Well, there's been an awful lot of owls around but no, haven't seen any HYDRA agents or anything unusual." Clint replied, voice a bit hoarse from not having spoken in several hours. Emily roughly shoved her half-empty coffee mug into his side, nudging him until he sighed loudly and took it with his free hand.

"You've been on watch for hours, take a few minutes." She knew he was as tense and eager to find the Captain, but with nothing to do but stand watch it had to be bothering him a good deal. "Stark has Jarvis checking shipping records and anything else we can think of to try and narrow down a few spots. We don't think they're out of the city. Sam's getting his wings ready and if we have some locales by the end of the night we can move out as early as the morning."

"Good." Clint mumbled through a mouthful of coffee, having nearly chugged the whole cup while Emily had been talking. "I've got Soviet cooties now but thanks for the coffee, 'Tasha." With an exasperated sigh Emily punched his side, which made him jump and the coffee mug to slip out of his hand and down to the street below with a muffled shattering of ceramic. "Aw, mug no."

Emily laughed, a true laugh, the kind that ended with her snorting into her sleeve. Maybe it was the tension of the night but it felt good to just laugh, and she heard Clint huff out a laugh as well. The last few days have weighed on her so much that it was nice to let off a little of the steam. She turned to make a witty comment but Clint frantically signed "quiet" at her, eyes locked down where the mug had fallen. She was up and looking over the ledge of the building in an instant, keeping low so she wouldn't be seen.

She heard him notch an arrow and draw, his breathing evening out the way it did when he aimed. She spotted in the street below within a few seconds; a shadow out of place, a brief flash of reflected light off of metal. Emily didn't hesitate to stop the archer, hand over his as he prepared to let the arrow fly, hissing out a breath between her teeth as she struggled to choose what to do. Downing him was likely the wisest option, but, if he was here, there was a chance Steve was too.

"Don't," she knew that Clint wouldn't, but speaking her thoughts couldn't hurt any, "This isn't right. If he was going to try and pick us off he would have while we were distracted. Something's going on." Clint kept his bow at half-pull, and she didn't blame him; she was cautious and untrusting herself, but as she watched the Winter Soldier looked right at them yet didn't duck behind cover. He just looked right at them.

"He could have agents all around the building we can't just sit here," he whispered harshly, pulling the bow to full-draw when the Soldier advanced until he was standing just a couple yards from the building. He was masked but lacked the goggles, dressed full in HYDRA gear with a rifle slung at his back, but hands empty.

"This isn't right, Clint." As if on cue, the Winter Soldier raised his hands, empty palms towards them. A show of submission. Emily bit her lip, not knowing what was going on in the man's head but knowing that this wasn't one of HYDRA's normal tactics. Either this was the man that had grown up with Steve or a twisted HYDRA trap, or something in-between. "… I'm going down there. Cover me."

"Emily you can't be..." she didn't give him the chance to try and talk her out of it, jumping onto the fire escape two floors down. It rattled so loud in the otherwise silent alleyway that she was sure HYDRA agents would be all over her, but seconds ticked by and there wasn't any movement, not even from the assassin in the street below. She was far from unarmed, with a pistol in her pockets, but she would never underestimate the Winter Soldier.

Being on the ground, mere feet away from the man that had shot her just a few months ago, is… tense, to say the least. Her shoulder aches. He looks different now in a way she can't really place; he's thinner than he was in her memories, eyes dark with lost sleep and weary in a way she never thought was possible from so menacing a man. He looked ragged and downtrodden and every bit as awful as Steve had described. Beneath the layers of caution and defensiveness, she admitted she felt a twinge of, pity was too strong a word but something like it, for her former mentor.

"What do you want, James." The words came out more bitter than she had intended, but then again maybe it was better to put up that façade. The man standing before her wasn't the same anymore, but hell, she changed also...

"Vitani." His voice was muffled under the muzzle-mask but that didn't diminish their effect. Vitani. Emily hadn't heard her old nickname in what felt like lifetimes. It told her that he remembered at least fragments of their past, much like her. "… I need your help." That definitely wasn't what she expected to hear him say next.

"My help?" Emily repeated the statement softly, "… Steve. How can I help?" she watched his eyes light up the dimmest bit. James slowly lowered his right hand, pulling something small and flat from his pocket. An arrow cut the tense air between them, embedding itself into the pavement a few inches from the man's foot; a clear, grim warning not to test his luck. It gave the Soldier pause before he completed his action, a small, scuffed moleskin sketchbook clutched in his hand.

"They have him." James's voice was rough and so tired, the book gently placed in her hands with his fingers lingering on her own for the briefest moment, "They think I'm on their leash still, Emily. Steve is hurt, I can't get him out on my own." His tone was almost pleading and it painfully twisted something up inside of her, "They sent me here to kill you all with the Strike team, you're not safe here any longer." Even without it being said, she knew that he had killed his own team to prevent them from hurting them.

"Where did they take him? Where are you based?" she got no clear answer, the Soldier merely tilting his head towards the thin sketchpad in her hands. When she opened the cover she realized there was a roughly drawn map, made of taken streets and turns that he must have taken to reach the building. It could lead them right to them.

"Emily, listen to me" his voice was suddenly soft, shot through with remorse, "they're trying to get me under control again. If they manage to, I need you to put me down. Steve won't be able to, and you're the only person I can trust to do it right. They might not even need to do it, I might try and hurt him if I'm not in my right mind. Please, I need you to promise." Without even seeing his reaction she knew her façade fell for the briefest of moments, blindsided by the request. She'd expected him to be hostile, to be defiant at the least, but not this.

She couldn't form the words but nodded, setting her jaw and straightening her back. The look of relief that filled his eyes was almost as heartbreaking as the whole damn situation. He started to turn but she stopped him, slipping a small object into his palm, curling his calloused fingers around it with her own hands. It was her necklace she used to wear everyday, in a shape of swan with outstretched wings. Seconds ticked by before he broke eye contact with her, looking down to his hand that she still held and then to the arrow by his boot.

"… thank you, моя любовь." She almost missed it, that softly mumbled bit of Russian that solidified in her mind that this was really James talking, and not the Winter Soldier.  She never thought she would ever hear that from him again. Emily gave his hand a gentle squeeze before she backed away, the Soldier doing the same, storing the thin metal object she had given him into one of his pockets.

"Be careful, James." Emily spoke softly, "… дорогой.." She watched him stiffen at the word, scanning her eyes for a long moment before he turned his head, breath exhaled loudly through the mask. She allowed her gaze to return to the roof, where Clint was still perched watchfully, another arrow at the ready. When she turned back to the Winter Soldier he was gone, just like the ghost he was. Her grip on the sketchbook tightened as resolve settled in. As it stood, HYDRA was holding two men from her, and they would soon come to regret that action.

His mind had always been too loud. Too loud, too busy, too full of things he had no context for. He could see them in bright flashes of vivid experience; the smell of a Brooklyn alley after a midnight rain, the feel of a stray cat's fur under his palm as it arched into his touch, the sound of a train's wheels far too close, he could remember small bits in crisp clarity but the whole picture was broken. He held the shattered pieces of a great mosaic with no blueprint, no frame of reference; the grand work it once was lost, leaving him with only a hundred million broken fragments and no way to tell how they fit together.

At least, it had been that way for the decades under HYDRA's command. He'd been out of cryo so long, his mind let go to mend without the wipes and supplied with small threads to stitch the patchwork of memories together, that now he was slowly piecing that mosaic of his former life back together. His memories were less flashes of disjointed fragments and now short contingencies; instead of just an isolated sound of pencils scratching at paper he now had a tentative picture of a skinny boy hunched dutifully over a thin sketchpad as he drew, or how a Russian lullaby now reminded him of a dozen young faces in a dim military compound.

With the tentative return of his memories came the emotions attached to them. He remembered the fluttery lightness in his stomach when he laughed loud and long around a campfire with Steve and soldiers just on this edge of familiarity, or how the fear had felt like tendrils of ice snaking up his spine when he heard a door slam shut over the rattling of train wheels. He remembered what fondness felt like, how it had bloomed with a fragile warmth behind his ribs for the first time in decades when he heard the first few unsure English words leave Emily's mouth, how she'd smiled like the sun after she held her first conversation in it with him. He remembered how it felt to have the emotions, but what he lacked entirely was how it felt to receive them, to give them freely and openly.

The strings that HYDRA had cut and mangled were slowly reconnecting, threading through the holes in the decaying programming and forming stronger bonds with each day. He hid it, he hid it deep and he hid it well. If Black knew he would be isolated, probably even forcibly wiped with what little equipment the base had even if it had a high chance of killing him. He knew how Black operated, his worth was only measured by his effectiveness in the field, and he knew as soon as that was permanently diminished he was obsolete. Just another loose end to be cleaned up, a broken machine to be discarded, a toothless wolf to be tied down and shot.

A week had passed since his meeting with Emily, since he'd given her every bit of information he could to help them find Steve. He could feel the programming responding to his HYDRA handlers, feel himself falling easier and easier into old ways and habits, found it harder to recall the broken shards of his memories. It scared him, it honestly scared him. What if tomorrow he woke up and all of the progress he had made was undone? What if tomorrow he looked at Steve and didn't see him, and saw only a target or mission or body to be disposed of? If he lost Steve, if he lost him and Emily, then he knew there'd be no saving him from HYDRA; they were the only ones who stood even the slightest chance of picking up his shattered pieces. This act of putting faith and trust in others was so foreign to him it was almost terrifying but he knew he couldn't do this on his own.

The soft sound of exhaled breath brought him back to reality, eyes cutting down to where Steve was resting his head on his thigh. The wound to his right side had healed enough for him to move around somewhat, although his definition of moving was rather singular. Steve had rolled onto his left side, using the Soldier's lap as a pillow, the thin white blanket he was wrapped in streaked with rust red from the most recent change of bandages. The Asset had deemed him well enough to chance providing him with a shirt, bright SHIELD logo across the chest of it, the sight of which made him feel sick. Steve was curled up somewhat, back mostly to the Asset, trying to shrink into himself but twisting himself up in the blanket and his own limbs in the process. Wide open to attack. The thought stung in his mind, eyes narrowing a fraction behind the thick protective goggles, and was dispelled quickly. Steve Rogers was not a target, threat or mark to him, but his programming deemed otherwise.

Even with the serum Steve's wounds were taking too long to heal for the Asset to be comfortable. The horrific gunshot to his side had only just closed up, a stark red swath of raw muscle stretched taunt over mending bones. The wound to his collarbone had healed much quicker, now a silvery patch of scarred skin that was fading with every passing day. His breathing had evened out to a wheezy constant, no longer sputtering and fluid-filled. It was a small comfort to the Asset.

The HYDRA doctors kept him sedated heavily most days now, preventing him from attempting to fight back or flee. The Asset knew the drugs well enough, as they had been used on him in the past when he woke up from cryo. It had kept him docile and pliant and it made him sick to see Steve reduced to the same state. He was burning through the dosage much quicker than he ever had, sometimes snapping to awareness with a feral sort of desperation to escape. Black made an awful point to make him be the one to administer the syrette, make him stand and watch as Steve collapsed and wheezed and tried to fight the drug, always to fail. Black couldn't wipe him, but he was trying his damnedest to break him through other means.

He'd been given less and less time with the Captain, forced into training exercise after training exercise, with little rest in between. The goggles hid how cloudy from exhaustion his eyes had gotten, how dark the patches under them had become, rendering him less and less able to fight back against orders. He wanted to gnash his teeth and lash out at every turn but he didn't have near the strength to keep doing so. He was so tired. He was never going to stop fighting but the programming was much stronger in his depleted state, the feeling of it guiding his movements almost second nature after decades under its control.

Stress sat heavy on the Soldier's shoulders, weighing him down and filling him with dread. His right hand was gently carding through Steve's hair, curling through golden strands that had grown during their captivity. He had orders from Black himself, an ultimate test for his programming, and he could feel it straining in his mind, the cogs and gears of HYDRA's control creaking and screeching in protest against his unwillingness to comply. He'd known this order was coming since his capture, known since they let Steve recover, known since they let him visit him as a reward.

The possibility of it had eaten at his mind since his first agreement to comply with Black's wishes, but now that the command had been given the reality of it all had crashed down on him. It was punishment, he knew it, punishment for not killing Emily and the small group she had gathered, for killing his own team to protect them. Black wanted him to know that he wasn't to make decisions and couldn't think for himself, and Black's sick sense of humor had been summed up in his simple order. He wanted balance; since he couldn't kill Emily and her group, he had to take another's life.

He held a knife in his metal hand.

"Kill the Captain, Soldier."

Even hours later the words still rang in his ears, a roar that threatened to drown out his own thoughts. He couldn't reject a direct command from a handler such as Black, yet he'd managed to hold out this long, kept his blade from marring the unblemished skin of the blond's neck. He could feel the press of it bearing down on his mind, burning behind his temples and tugging at his limbs, but he fought it. He gritted his teeth under the muzzle-mask and hissed out his breath, trying to will himself to throw the knife away from them but his arm wouldn't respond. He couldn't disarm himself but he found he could keep himself from moving to attack; he was at a grim stalemate with the programming.

"Slit his throat, Soldier. I want you to watch him die."

A strangled sort of noise choked in the Asset's throat, swallowed down thickly as he struggled to keep from showing his distress outwardly. He didn't even realize his hands were shaking until Steve made a confused sound, tilting his head to look up at him with one medicine-fogged eye in silent question. It just made the Soldier's hands tremble more. He'd done everything he could to try and protect the few people he knew with certainty and it was being warped into Steve's own death; everything he'd done was going to kill the man he'd tried so hard to protect.

"… Bucky?"

The Asset's whole body shuddered at the other's voice, shaking so much he could hardly sit. He pulled his hand away and watched the other's face, thankful for the first time in decades for the mask that covered his expression. Steve couldn't see the pained look on his face, see how panicked and wild his eyes were through the goggles. Black's agents had locked him in here and he could see the shadows of them through the small square window on the door; he knew that they would keep him in here until he completed his mission. He'd lasted this long, he just had to keep telling himself he just had to hang on a little longer.

He had to look away. He couldn't look at Steve without the programming screaming to lunge, to hold him down and slash the blade across his open throat. The inner mechanisms of his metal arm whirled and purred, plates calibrating and lying flat and repeating, unfeeling fingers tight around the handle of the knife that he could hear cracks forming on the resin grip. He felt like some sort of predator, a monster; Steve had done nothing but try to protect and aid him and when he needed him to return the favor here he was, holding the knife that would kill him.

Muffled voices from the HYDRA agents outside, combined with their restlessly shifting shadows through the window, set off alarms in the Asset's mind. Something was going on. It was likely Black coming to inspect his progress and the thought of it was enough to worsen his shaking. He was being pulled in a dozen different directions; Black's words tugged at him to attack, his own mind screamed at him to get Steve out of this hellhole and protect him, while the programming whispered encouragements to complete his mission and be rewarded with the quiet sleep of cryo.

The weight in his lap vanished and he didn't dare look to see; he could hear Steve straining to sit up, breath wheezing out of his still-healing lungs from the effort. The programming lurched at the opportunity like a starving animal presented with a meal, teeth bared and desperate for blood. It'd be so easy to just turn and plunge the knife into his back; the blade was long enough to reach his heart through his ribs if he aimed right, he'd bleed out if it didn't outright kill him..

"Buck."

His grip on the knife tightened, servos in his arm whirring into readiness. If he completed his mission Black would put him in cryo, would stop all the noise of the broken memories in his head and let him rest; he was so tired, he'd run and fought for so long that even the horrors of his captivity seemed like a sweet relief from the pain of remembering. The fragments of his memories had always just been background noise before, but now with time and healing they were loud, intrusive, overwhelming and smothering. He couldn't handle it on his own.

"Buck, something's going on, we need to get out of here..."

He was so far lost in his own mind, moving without knowing, drowning inside his own thoughts and broken memories. There was only so long one could fight before it all collapsed, until one gives in under the pressure. With his memories a jumbled heap, struggling to stitch together, the pain of it all was overpowering. He felt trapped inside a cage like a wild animal, desperate to get out and escape from all the noise.

The soft touch of warm fingers on his right arm triggered an immediate response, twisting and clamping his hand onto a still-healing shoulder, knife edge pressed to soft skin. He was instantly still, muscles wound tight like a spring, blade biting into his throat just enough to draw a single trickle of blood. Steve, this is Steve, stop. He was horrified, wanting nothing more than to bolt out the door before he could do something to hurt him more, but he couldn't move. He could only watch as Steve swallowed, eyes staring into his featureless goggles, confused and frightened but, God, still so bright.

"Bucky, put it down… please…"

A sound that could have been a whimper escaped him, stomach turning in disgusted horror at himself. Yet he still couldn't move the weapon away. He couldn't just ignore his mission but he could try and fight it, try to delay it, give Steve enough time to try and get away but unless he got a new command he had to complete it. It was the worst part of the programming.

"You don't have to listen to them anymore, Bucky.."

Steve sounded more lucid than he had in weeks, even with his eyes still fogged from medication and pain. He knew Steve, he'd made the connection between him and the boy with the sparrow-thin bones and bloodied knuckles from his memories, but seventy years of forced obedience and programming and control were impossible to just shrug off. Steve must have sensed it, but then again even the broken fragments of his memories told him that he had always been able to read him like a book.

He didn't show an ounce of fear as he slowly raised his hand, hovering it over his metal wrist, never breaking eye contact. He reasoned he wanted him to make sure he saw what he was doing. He remained tense and stiff, ready to slash the blade the inch it'd take to kill the man, but he waited. Steve seemed to take it as permission, lightly laying his hand over his own metal one, trying to gently push it away from his throat. He resisted at first, artificial muscles clicking and flexing before he slowly relaxed, letting his arm be guided away and down.

"You're okay, Bucky," he started, keeping his voice low and even, not even blinking at the impossibly loud sound of the knife clattering to the floor as it slipped from the Asset's grip, "you're my friend, you don't have to make it on your own."

Thank you Buck, but I can make it on my own.

The thing is, you don't have to.

Something about those string of words sparked something, a bright image flashing in his mind. He remembered Steve, so much smaller with red-ringed eyes. He remembered his hand gripping his shoulder tightly; he realized dimly that he was doing much the same now, a twisted sort of parody of a gesture that no doubt had once been based in comfort. Steve lifted his free hand, the other still cradling the metal wrist that a moment ago had been poised to slit his throat, reaching slowly towards his face. The memory was so vivid he didn't even react until he felt his goggles being gently tugged away, dropping discarded into his lap.

The Asset tried to suck in a breath through the muzzle mask but his lungs hitched as his whole body began to shake, arms dropping into his lap, limp. He had no idea what was happening. The programming had faltered, leaving him unable to complete the mission; the conflict between his programming and the memories was just too much. Panic filled every bit of him, heart hammering against his ribs and stomach threatening to retch. He'd never felt like this in any of the memories he had and it terrified him. He couldn't get enough air and he felt entirely out of control of his own body, his breathing loud and ragged and desperate under the mask.

He felt Steve's hand on his left shoulder, thumb just barely tracing the ragged seam where metal met flesh, his eyes focused on his own as he spoke although he didn't hear a word he said. Normally he flinched or reacted violently to contact but he didn't this time, merely shrinking into himself in an attempt to hide from the storm that was his mind. It was oddly assuring, the feeling of his firm grip on his shoulder, although it didn't immediately register that he was touching his left arm. He couldn't touch him with his left arm, he couldn't, he couldn't. He was dimly aware of a loud noise outside the room, an electric sort of noise that sent the panic coiling in his belly shooting straight up his spine. He needed to get away. Electricity meant pain, meant the wipe that would steal Emily and Steve and his fragile memories away again.

His legs felt boneless when he tried to jump up but he didn't make it any farther than that, Steve's grip on his shoulder turning strong as steel, pulling him back down. The Asset dimly heard him yelling at him; he heard Bucky and he heard its okay but everything in between was lost in the blur that was the panic swirling in his mind. The electric noise was right outside, it was too close. Too close.

"S-Steve, I..."

The door was blown off its hinges with a bolt of blue, slamming into the wall, and all thoughts screeched to a halt and screamed attack.

Steve flinched violently when the door exploded to his right, shards of hot metal bouncing off his side. The air was full of the acrid stench of charred metal and sharp electricity, a scent he knew like the back of his hand. Stark. Thank God, Emily had gotten help and somehow found them. They just might get out of this mess after all. He had his visor flipped open and grinned when he saw him, motioning to the two of them broadly. He didn't have enough time to warn him about Bucky, to warn him about the sound the repulsors made, to warn him about anything.

"Tony, turn off your Repulsors!" he shouted but by the time the words left his lips Bucky had already sprung, producing a knife from somewhere on his person and lunging at Tony like a bird of prey, blade like a talon aiming straight for the suit's Arc Reactor. Tony didn't even have enough time to flip down his visor before Bucky barreled into him, sending them both to the floor. Steve tried to jump up to pry Bucky off but the drugs were still in his system, making his limbs feel a hundred pounds heavier and the room spin with any sudden movement. It felt like when his blood sugar used to dip before the serum.

The screech of metal against metal was nearly ear-splitting, the knife glancing off an armored gauntlet when Tony threw his arms up to deflect the strike. Bucky jammed the blade into one of the seams, Tony actually letting out a yelp before he jerked his arm back, the knife catching and snapping from the torque. The useless hilt was discarded, fingers curling into a fist and slamming into the Arc Reactor, cracking the protective covering. Steve's heart skipped and he screamed at Bucky to stop but he watched as he raised his fist again, aiming to break the Reactor which would trap Tony in the powerless suit.

A brilliant flash of blue filled the room and Bucky was thrown off, the sleeve of his uniform disintegrating and exposing the metal underneath. The Repulsor blast had been drastically dialed back, only enough power behind it to knock him away, but it still nearly blew him into the far wall. He landed on his feet like some sort of cat and skidded back, tattered sleeve smoking and the plating of his arm mired with superficial electricity burns. His breathing was far too fast and he was still shaking, hardly able to stand on his own two feet.

"Bucky, calm down!" Steve pulled himself free of the IV drips, using the wall to steady himself as he moved closer to Tony; he was hedging his bets on the fact that Bucky hopefully wouldn't attack with him so close to his target. "Tony is a friend, he's not going to hurt you!" he could only watch helplessly as Bucky tensed himself up again, coiling in on himself like a snake about to strike. "Bucky, don't! I promise he's not going to hurt you!" he placed himself between the two, holding his hands up submissively. Tony quickly did the same, powering down his Repulsors completely.

Bucky remained crouched and ready to lunge, another much larger blade in his right hand. His eyes darted between Steve and behind him to Tony as if he was trying to judge his distance; it made Steve's stomach drop. He edged forward slowly, closing the distance hesitantly even though he heard Tony's concerned hiss of Steve be careful behind him.

"Buck, its okay, I promise. Its fine, Tony's not going to hurt you or me." he assured, reaching out and slowly taking hold of his hand with the knife. Bucky didn't let go, keeping his eyes locked on Tony over Steve's shoulder as if daring him to try and take another step closer even though he was now shaking so badly he could barely keep his stance. His eyes were still unfocused and wild, nothing like they were the last few times he'd visited him in his cell.

"Cap, I think he's having a panic attack" Tony said suddenly, visor flipping up, "try and get him calmed down so we can get you both out of here. Emily is coming down the hallway, I'm going to make sure our path out is clear but we need to leave before more HYDRA agents show up." Steve nodded back at him before turning his attention back to Bucky, hand still on the hilt of the knife to try and keep him from lunging around him at Tony.

"Buck, Bucky, I need you to look at me" Steve spoke sternly, Bucky's gaze snapping back to him in an instant, "please try and calm down. You're breathing too hard, just, try and focus on slowing it down." He'd talked Tony through his panic attacks in the last few months when something triggered them but Tony had never had a penchant to try and kill him during them.

The knife came loose from his grip a moment later, Steve quickly tossing it out of reach onto the abandoned cot. Bucky was shuddering so much he looked like he was about to shake apart, breath heaving in and out. He wanted to get the mask off of him but he didn't think it was a good idea with him still so flighty. He could easily end up hurting him or himself.

"James, теперь ты в безопасности."

He felt Bucky jolt to look over at the remains of the door where Emily was now standing silently, the shield strapped to one arm. Steve would have spun around himself but he didn't dare make any sudden moves with Bucky in his state, knowing he was teetering on the edge of attacking him or attacking anyone who so much as came within three feet of him with a weapon.

"E-Emily." Bucky's voice was painfully weak, hardly audible over his breathing. Steve heard her walk over, she deliberately making enough noise so not to startle him, reaching out to lay her hand on his arm gently. It seemed to ease his shaking a bit, having two grounding points, but they didn't have the time to get him completely calmed down. They still had to get out of this nightmarish place and get to safety.

"You're going to be fine." She reassured him soothingly, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it before, "we're going to take you and Steve somewhere safe." Bucky seemed to calm a bit at her words, tentatively nodding in agreement as his tremors subsided. He still looked pale and nervous but he didn't seem to be on the verge of passing out anymore. "Steve, Stark has the hallway clear but we need to go now. More agents are inbound and we don't have the head of the base pinned down. Do you think he's good for extraction?" Steve turned to look at the Soldier at her words, and he mirrored the action.

"Do you think you can make it out of the building, Buck? We need to go." Steve asked and was relieved when he saw the slight nod he got in response.

"Good. Clint and Bruce are outside in a Quinjet. Let's get you both home." Emily whispered with a little smile in the corner of her lips.

FOUR YEARS LATER

 “Mommy!? Mommy, mommy, mommy!!!” a squeaky voice has spreaded its echo around a cottage.

Little girl ran through upper floor, heading towards stairs leading at the ground floor. She ran into the living room, looking around, but there was no one, so she ran further. Girl spotted the black chow-chow, who was laying at the dog bedding near the main door.

“Hey! Xena! Have you seen Ma?” girl, laughing loudly, went to the dog and pet dog's head playfully. The animal only barked lazly, so girl shook her head and decided to ran to the garden.

But at the door a pair of strong hands had caught her and she had been picked up. She was laughing and squeaking. “Uncle! Put me down, put me down!!!” she giggled, looking up into pair of familiar, huge blue eyes. Steve smirked and made an offended face. “Nah, I don't think so, I like to have you close, besides, now I hope I'll have better deal with your mother if it comes to a dessert!” Captain tickled little belly of the girl, causing a bunch of giggles and squeaks. “Uncle! Unfair!” little girl nuzzled to his neck. “Well, I'll help ya with a dessert if you'll help me to look for my Ma! I can't find her.” Steve laughed briefly and gave a slight nod, then stepped outside t the garden, holding girl in his arms.

Emily was sitting at the wide swing with Bucky, they were catching sunrays of the late summer, cuddling and talking. When little girl noticed her parents, she squeaked once again, tugging Steve's sleve. “Mommy! Daddy!” she yelled loudly and as soon as her little feet touched the ground, she ran towards them, jumping at Bucky's lap. “Mommy! I was looking for you everywhere!!! I draw something for you!!” little girl held a dawing in her hand and she passed it over to Emily. Redhead woman took a piece of the paper in her hand and whistled shortly. “James, look, I bet our girl's gonna be an artist in the future!” she giggled. Bucky took the drawing in his metal palm and took a look on that, letting Steve to watch it also. “I bet she'll” Bucky took girl into his arms and hugged her tight, smiling proudly. “My beautiful Marika.” “I'm sorry to interrupt, but what's with that dessert you had promissed me?” Steve poked Emily's shoulder and woman rolled her eyes. “Captain is hungry as always. I told James before, they should've been calling you Captain Hunger instead of America” Emily summed up, smiling sweetly.

All four talked for a while, then headed back to the house. They were living in peace, filling their lives with love and hope. Hope for better world.

Whatever they had missed, they possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past.

                                                      The End

Imagine: Taking care of Matt’s hands.

Everything was fine before that weird earthquake that happened so suddenly.

It was scary and confusing, you had no idea what just happened, but you could see trough huge window of your and Matt’s flat that it was bad, really, really bad.

But the most weird thing happened to Matt, you watched him confused before he just ran out of flat, without saying anything.

You spend hour watching the news in the tv, than you decided to go to bed, even if you were really freaking out by this earthquake, but you were too tired to stay up.

You slowly walked to bedroom and laid in your and Matt’s bed, you couldn’t sleep. You were thinking what he was doing, where was he, if he was okay.

Finally you fell asleep but you had been quickly woken up by the sound of the door.

‘Matt’, You thought and quickly sat up on bed to look into living room.

There he was, he looked so angry, all you could hear was his panting. He tried to look trough first aid kit but he was too angry, and he failed.

You watched, how Matt, full of anger pushed box off of the table. You were surprised that he didn’t call you or didn’t try to find you. You quickly got up from bed and walked to him.

“Matt… Matt what are you doing? What’s wrong with you?” You asked and started picking up stuff from the floor.

“[Y/N]… I am sorry. I just had to go… just, I heard so many voices, screams, begging for help.” He said and sat on couch, Matt slowly hide face into his hands. Then you could see why he was looking trough aid kit, his knuckles were completely bruised  even wounded in some places.

“You fought without anything on your hands..” you said quietly and slowly raised up from the floor with aid kit in your hands, Matt only nodded. You sat next to him and took his hand into yours.

“Let me take care of this, Matty.” You said quietly and he let you do with his hand whatever your have wanted.

You started slowly clean his fist off of blood, you were really gently with his hands. You washed his hands precisely and started carefully wrapping them in bandages.

“Next time… tell me where are you going, and maybe… put on the suit again.” You said quietly.

Matt looked into your direction and nodded.

“I… I will… I need to do something. I’m sorry, angel.” He said and took your face into his hands.

You nodded and gently nuzzled to his hands.

“I know… My devil.” You smiled sadly.

Matt kissed you gently.

“I need to go now…” He muttered and left. “Love you, Angel!” He said before closing door.

“I love you too, devil.” You giggled sadly and shook your head.

Author: Cass Gif: X X

Andrea By @withoutashadowofhope

withoutashadowofhope: My version of Andrea

Omg!!!!! I love it!!! I love it soo much! she is cute!! ♥♥♥♥♥♥ ~Cass

Chasing the shadow || Part I

Summary: You're Ezio's friend. You meet him for the first time since many years. Words: 1407 Warnings: none  Author: Cass

[Y/F/C] - You favourite color  [Y/H/L] - Your hair length [Y/H/C] - Your hair color [Y/N] - Your name [Y/L/N] - Your last name 

You were living in Rome for a long time now, your parents moved out from Florence when you were 10 years old only. You left everything behind, your whole life, every good person and every friend, including your childhood friend named Ezio.

For a long time you were sending letters to him and he was writing back to you. One day everything has just stopped. You never heard anything from Ezio again and it was sad, it ripped your heart apart. You were close with him,  he was your best friend even if your parents didn’t like him.

You good remembered, how you both were running around streets of Florence, simply enjoying your time of youth, making troubles not once or twice.

You still could remember how sad he was when your parents were living the town with you by their side.

The only thing that has left you was a necklace, that Ezio and his mother had given you before you left Florence for good.

You sighed loudly playing with the jewellery, watching how beautiful Rome was. All those people, beautiful places, shops... It was your home now, a place where you were feeling safe.

Now you were living alone, your parents bought you house in a good district. They made sure, that you had everything that you needed and they were regularly paying you visits, which were a bit annoying for you. You were an adult woman now.

One day you decided to go and make small shopping for the evening. You put on your favorite long, [Y/F/C] dress, than slowly brushed your [Y/H/L], [Y/H/C] hair and looked  at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like a real aristocrat, you only smiled at yourself and quickly grabbed your basket and some of the money.

The weather was nice and the city was calm, like really calm. Guards were walking thought streets, bards were playing happy songs on their instruments (two bards even got some money from you). And finally you found your shops.

Shopping went rather quick, you good knew what you had wanted to buy and how much you had wanted to buy. It never was a problem for you.

During your way back home someone ran into you. It was a man, dressed in white raiment with a hood on. He quickly grabbed your elbow before you fell on the ground. “Mi dispiace veramente, signora”. Man only said, he made sure you are standing still and he continued his runaway.

“Imbecille!” you yelled after him and in the same moment you saw group of guards, they were following the stranger.

You spend whole day sitting on the balcony, thinking about your accidental meeting with the man n the street. You still could see him in your thoughts. He looked like someone strong, someone in hurry, but he remained polite, he probably was dangerous. The hood, guards...

You only shook you head trying to get rid of those thoughts, because suddenly you heard a weird noises  form… Somewhere… You couldn’t really tell, from where they came, but then suddenly you saw the man from the town, but he didn’t look as good as then.

His white raiment was stained with blood, probably his own, he was tired and you could tell this basing on his breath and heavy gasps, that you both could hear. Probably guards got him earlier...

“Where is he?! He for sure went that way!” You could hear guards screams. You looked at weak man and pulled him inside your house, he was even too weak to protest. You quickly closed balcony doors.

“What you did?” You muttered as you laid man on your own bed.

You sat on bed and thought what you can do, then you decided to try to use the knowledge that you had from your friend, who was a doctor.

“I’m sorry, but I have to take it off… At least upper part of your clothes..” You said and slowly tried to take off his hood, but immediately he grabbed both of your hands. “Calm down, no matter who you are, my mouth are silent. I promise.” You said, looking at him. Man only nodded and let you remove his hood off. And you had to say, that he was handsome… Really handsome. You smiled at him softly and started to take care of his wounds. Sometimes he let out a hiss or a quiet moan, but it was all. For most of time he remained silent, being rude enough to look into your cleavage, when he was thinking you weren’t paying attention.

After an hour you sighed softly, than got up from bed. Man slowly sat up. “Grazie, signora.” ”Sei benvenuto, signore. It was nice to help you, but I think you should rest a bit and I’m more than sure you won’t be able to run tonight.” You smiled at man.

He smiled back softly. “I think you are right, signora. May I ask you a question?” You nodded slowly. “Of course, yes?” “Your necklace… Where did you get it?” He asked, watching you carefully. “It’s a gift from a friend.. I got it before I left my home town..” You only said and shrugged, taking necklace into your hand. “Goofing around streets of Florence? Getting into troubles? Spending whole days having fun?” Man asked, smiling at you. “Yes but how… You… Ezio… Ezio Auditore..?” You asked, you were deeply shocked, your eyes were wide and you had no idea, what was exactly happening now.

“One and only… [Y/N]  [Y/L/N]! My beloved friend!” Not paying attention to the pain, he simply got up from bed and took you into his arms, hugging you tight as he only could.

You laughed happily and almost started cry from happiness, right now you realised, how much you were missing him. You sighed and nuzzled to him.

“I missed you so much… I… I’m sorry… Few years after you left, so many things had happened in my life… That… I just lost my contact with you.” He said, still holding you tight in his arms.

You nodded. “It’s okay.” You took his hand and looked at him with tears in your eyes and with a big smile on your face. “We have whole night for each others.” Ezio stroked your cheek and nodded. “You are right.”

Both of you spent whole night at talking. He told you about terrible things that happen to his family and about what he had to do and who he had became. You told him, what was happening with you after you left Florence. You felt sorry for him, so many bad stuff happened to the man, but you were proud of him at the same time.

At morning Ezio put on his raiment and looked at you. “It was nice to see you again. I hope… We won’t lose contact this time…” You giggled and shook your head. “As long as you will find time for me in your busy life.” “Will you patch me up sometimes? It’s better than going to medics… I don’t need to pay.” He shrugged. You only laughed loudly. “Ezio, this house is big as you can see… And I live here alone. I can promise you that… You and your assassins will always find a help and shelter here, I will always be ready to take care of their wounds, give then place to proper rest and feed them with homemade dishes. It will be pleasure for me to help you.” “[Y/N]… I don’t know what to say… Grazie.” He hugged you. “You know… There is one thing that I wanted to do for so long… I wanted to do this before you left, but… We were too young.” You blinked. “But… What do you…”

You were cut off by a kiss, deep and strong one. When man broke the kiss ,you looked at him in shock. Ezio put on his hood and smiled at you briefly. “We will meet later, wait here at me. If something will happen, you know, where my sister and mother are. They will give a shelter to you. See you, bella.” He simply left your house, jumping out of the window.

You watched him for a bit and then you walked back to your bedroom. “Ezio Auditore… You’ve changed so much.” You whispered quietly under your breath, gently touching the necklace on your decolletage.

My little treasure || Part III

Teaser || Part I || Part II

WORD COUNT: 2930

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR: Cass

It was only two days after whole Andrea’s accident. She stayed in S.H.I.E.L.D.

Andrea was looking at white wall still lying in her bed. Suddenly she heard a voice .

“Hey… How do you feel?” It was grant. He solely sat on Andrea’s bed when she sat up.

“Good… but I still feel bad… because of this what happened two days ago.” She said sadly.

Grant smiled softly and stroked her hair. “It’s okay, nothing too bad happened. Everything is fine now.”

Andrea sighed heavily and quickly broked down. She started cry. “No! It’s not! I’m a monster! Machine… next Hydra’s experiment!”

Grant looked at her. “Hey hey hey… Shhh…” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay now. Andrea… please calm down.” Grant said and pulled her onto his laps.

“But… l.. look… What I did… I hurt my dad… I wanted hurt you… Why… Why you tried to stop me… I could kill you..”

Grant stroked her cheek and sighed. “Because you are important to me. I wasn’t scared… I will always try to protect you… I could die for you.” He told her.

Andrea looked at him in shock. “G-Grant… what are you saying..”

“All I’m saying is…” He said slowly and kissed her. Andrea blinked but didn’t pull away, she kissed him back.

“I just love you.” He finished after braking the kiss “I will never let anything bad happen to you.” He said and Andrea only nodded. Grant laughed softly and kissed her again.

After few minutes they both jumped surprised when they heard angry voice. “Am I interrupting in something?!” It was Steve and this time he was really pissed.

Grant looked at Steve. Andrea also looked at him, he was really scared. “Dad…. I  just… I mean we…” Grant looked at Andrea.

“I can see what you two are doing! I told you, she is Hydra’s experiment. She showed what she is capable to. She is a dangerous creature!” Steve growled in a low voice of his.

Grant let Andre sit on bed and he got up. “No! She is not! I love her! And I don’t care anymore what you think about her. Because I LOVE HER!”

“And you are my son, MY son! And as long as I’m alive you will do what I say.” Steve grabbed Grant’s arm and pulled him out of the room. “I don’t care what you think about her. She is walking monster!” Steve growled at Grant.

He suddenly saw Bucky. “And you! Keep this thing away from my son!” Steve yelled at Bucky and left hospital with Grant.

Bucky blinked confused and watched as blond man left the building. “Um… it’s nice… to see you two too..” He said slowly and went to Andrea’s room.

Girl was hiding under her blanket, Bucky looked at this really worried. He sat on bed and rubbed her back.

“Go away Grant… your dad hate me…” She whimpered.

Bucky smiled “I’m not sure if my name is Grant.”

Andrea sat up and looked at Bucky from under blanket, “DAD!” She whimpered happily and hugged to him tight.

“Calm down, or you will break more of my ribs.” He giggled and hugged her back tight, “I missed you, little one.”

“How do you feel… w-what I did to you..” Andrea asked and looked at him.

Bucky only smiled at her “For me more important is how you feel but… I only have few ribs broken. I don’t know how many… I didn’t listen. I was more worried about my daughter.”

Andrea sighed and looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to dad… I don’t know… I was so angry, scared. This rage, it ripped me from the inside. I wasn’t controlling myself. I’m sorry.”

Bucky looked at her and put his hand on her cheek. “Sweetheart… please, shhh. It’s okay, I understand, I good know this feeling.” He told her.

Andrea nodded and hugged to him tight. Bucky spend few hours with her before he had to go back.

Martha knocked to Andreas door. “Knock knock. How’s my favorite patient?” She asked and slowly sat on Andrea's bed .“I hope you feel better, Andrea. Just I wanna you to know that Bucky will be able to take you home soon, I hope you are happy.” She smiled.

Girl only smiled sadly and nodded “Yes… I wanna go home, to dad.” She said quietly.

“Andrea… something’s wrong? I can see that you are quiet… and I’m sure that this time it’s not because the thing that happened two days ago.” Martha sighed and got up from bed. She walked to girl. “Come on tell me..”

Andrea looked at her. Andrea felt bad because of everything. Because of thing that happened, because of Bucky and Steve and because of Grant. She told everything to Martha.

Martha giggled. “Finally my son had shown some balls…” She muttered to herself and sighed. “You know what… I think you shouldn’t think about this. Everything will be fine. Things like this won’t happen again, Bucky is quickly returning to health and Steve… He is himself, but don’t worry. I won’t let him separate you with Grant. Now… It’s getting late, you should try to sleep a bit, okay?”

Andrea smiled and nodded, now she felt much better “Thank you..” She said.

Martha nodded. “No problem Kid… I will be back at morning to check upon you. Good night and see you tomorrow.”  

Andrea spent few days in hospital, after this time Bucky took her back home.

Girl happily flopped on her own bed in her own home, Andrea sat slowly on bed and looked at Bucky. “Dad… I… can we talk about me? I mean… about what I am?” She looked at Bucky with her big puppy’s eyes.

Bucky smiled sadly and nodded, he sat next to her. “Just… remember, no matter what I always love you.” Andrea nodded “Sure… I love you too, dad.” Bucky smiled sadly. “So… it was fourteen years ago..” He began.

 ~~~~~~ fourteen years ago~~~~~~

 “Everyone's down?” Steve sighed heavily picking up his shield from floor.

“Well, no one shoots to us anymore, so I think yes, Cap.” Bucky looked around and smiled at his friend.

Steve nodded and put shield on his back. “So… Agents will go there and we will go to main lab.”  Steve ordered and few agents that were with them left them alone on the corridor “You okay, Buck?”

“I just…” He looked around again, Bucky felt really uncomfortable. “Just… bad memories.. but let’s go. We should check what those sick bustards were doing here.” Man muttered and started walking toward main lab.

Steve followed his friend.

Main lab was a huge room, filled with all kinds of weird things. Many books, boxes with documents. Photos of some creepy stuff.

Bucky looked at documents. “That makes sense…” Bucky muttered.

“What is it, Buck? What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“Look at those photos, Steve… they were experimenting on people, kids… even unborn one…” Bucky put few pages of documents on table.

Steve looked at them. “Yes… Look… This woman… She got missing few weeks ago.” He picked up documents and started looking trough them. “13 years old girl… pregnant woman… Man from store… Mother and her newborn son… Everyone that ever reported missing from city below.  Just reading their treatment makes me sick…” Steve shook his head and shivered.

“I never really met with such a cruelty from Hydra… I mean I knew they can be cruel…” Bucky muttered, walking around in room, checking under tables and other place where they could find something.

“I think it’s more like new… branch of Hydra. All those adults that think they can make Hydra great again… Like we can see they left really quickly… or those few that we met were last one in here. I have no idea.” Steve shrugged “I will have to move all those stuff to S.H.I.E.L.D, and I will have to send letters to families… You know… When we were at war. I thought it is hard, but it's harder than I ever thought.” Steve said and looked at Bucky.

But Bucky wasn’t really listening to his friend, he found small room. It had working light and it was warm. There was small bed inside, some toys, small clothes were laying on floor and on a small chair. “What the hell…” Bucky muttered and walked inside. “Bucky…” Steve blinked and followed his friend slowly.

Bucky looked around, room was really small, but only now Bucky could see pink walls covered in childish drawing, whole place looked better than whole place. Bucky also saw table with long  tablecloth. He could hear some quiet sounds from there. He slowly walked to table, man got onto his knees and slowly moved tablecloth up.

There was sitting a small girl. With short dark brown hair, she had big green eyes, small pink lips and she was really skinny. Girl looked at Bucky scared and moved herself away from man.

“Hey hey… shhh… look, I’m not one of those man. They were coming to you? They were bad? You are scared of  those man?” Bucky asked quietly.

Girl whimpered and nodded three times.

Bucky smiled at her. “Hey, we are here to help you, little one. We will take you home, to your mommy and daddy. Come on now… look I have this special hand… It will protect you.” He said and pulled out his metal arm toward girl.

She looked at him but after a minute she moved closer to him.

“That’s it. You are a good and smart girl.” Bucky said softly and wrapped arm around girl. Bucky hugged girl and got up from floor. “You are safe now, no one gonna hurt you.”

Steve looked at him. “What the hell are you doing with this child?!” Steve frowned.

“Calm down Steve… She is just a child, she’s not gonna hurt us.” Bucky smiled.

“Look at her! We know nothing about her. She is Hydra’s experiment. We don’t know what sit in her.” He growled and took his shield in his hand “We can’t let her live.”

Bucky frowned. “Are you kidding me? She is just a child.” Bucky said hugging again scared girl to him. “I don’t let you kill her, she is so small.”

“She is Hydra experiment. You think why they keep her alive?” Steve said.

“Then why you never killed me, Steve? I was an experiment too. Good man changed into killing machine by HYDRA.” Bucky said and looked at girl. “Let me take care of her… I promise… I will do everything.”

Steve frowned. “Fine…” He put shield on his back. “But if anything ever happen because of this thing… it will be only your responsibility.”

Bucky nodded and looked at girl. “You see… I told you.” He smiled when girl looked at him and smiled back. Her smile was still caused by her fear but Bucky could feel that she was really happy because she was safe now.

Whole paper work in S.H.I.E.L.D took a lot of time. Bucky saw girl's documents but he didn’t like what Steve wrote there. He agreed at those words only because Steve promised she won’t ever see those documents.

Girl was sitting at big metal table in lab. Bucky stayed close, while Martha was examining her.

“She looks healthy, I mean. She isn’t sick… but there is one thing.. that made me worry.” She said and looked at Bucky.

“What is it?” He blinked, he started feel something weird inside. Since they found her, he got really attached to her. It was weird but nice feeling for him. It was something new, something that made him feel warm inside. He wanted this girl to be safe whole time. Was it because they shared similar life. Hydra's experiment, good person destroyed by sick people, loners found by good person. He had no idea… but he really liked this feeling.

“I mad X-rey. She has a metal hand…” Martha said.

Bucky looked at her and at girl. “Um… Sorry Martha.. but I don’t see it.” He said really confused.

“I also thought it but look..” She walked to girl. “Will you let me show Uncle Bucky the magic trick with your skin?” Martha asked, looking at girl.

Girl smiled at woman and at Bucky, she nodded and giggled quietly.

Bucky felt even more warm inside when he heard this quiet sound, he felt… good, he felt happy.

Martha nodded and slowly pulled off skin from girl’s hand “It’s some kind of… bionic skin, I think I will send it to Stark. He will know what to do with it.”

Bucky looked at hand “They… hide it… but why?” He walked to girl and took her small had into his hands.

Martha shrugged. “Maybe she had to be some secret weapon. We will never find out I think. But as far as I see she is fine. We didn’t find anything bad in her. She is just too skinny, but it will quickly go back to normal. You talked with Steve?”

Bucky nodded and sat on table, girl climbed on his laps by herself and put her hand on his arms. Then smiled at him. Bucky smiled softly “Yes I talked with him,  I want adopt her. Take her with me to home.” He said.

Martha blinked. “Are you sure? I mean we don’t know if she is 100% okay.”

Bucky nodded. “I was in similar situation too… Steve helped me. It’s time for me to help someone, we both are from Hydra's hands… Who else will be able to help her better than me.”

Martha smiled softly. “If you say so Bucky.” She nodded. “She is three years old but she doesn’t have a name.” She said and looked at Bucky.

“I thought about one… Andrea, I like this name. I think it will be perfect for her.” Man said and girl smiled at him.

Martha smiled. “Okay, fine. Better go home now. She needs rest, food, water and love.”

First few months with Andrea were hard. It took Bucky long time to figure out what girl like to eat and what she doesn’t like. What she likes to wear and what not.

Bucky was giving Andrea almost whole his time. When she was asleep he was preparing room for her. She was getting sick many times what meant that Bucky spent many nights with girl in his bed, making sure she is okay. It was hard, Bucky was making so many stuff at once that he slept when he could, while waiting at microwave to stop, when Andrea was with Martha at her research, during girl’s nap time.

But it all was worth it. After few months Andrea started talk, she started eat properly, she started smile more often, many night were peaceful for Bucky and for Andrea. Bucky lived moments that he thought will never come to him. Visits at playground, trips to cinema to see new move for children, walks to zoo. Bucky couldn’t be more happy than He was with his adopted daughter.

He was often leaving Andrea with Steve’s son and their babysitter. Steve wasn’t really happy because of this fact, but Martha was really good in calming down her stubborn husband.

When Andrea met Grant she was even more happy. Bucky had to learn her good manners, how to act around other people and explain girl that she isn’t weird but special.

Andrea looked at him. “Dad… m… maybe you aren’t my real dad, but I never knew my real parents… I love you… and… thank you for everything. All those sleepless night that you spend with me, all this time that you gave me trough my whole life.”

Bucky smiled and hugged her. “It was all worth it… Because now I have wonderful young lady… and she is my lovely daughter.”

“Dad… Can you do something for me?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Bucky sighed softly.

“Can… can you do something so Grant will come here. Steve really made sure he won’t visit me… and… I miss him.” She said sadly.

Bucky smiled and ruffled her hair. “I will try my best. Now try to relax you are finally home.

Next Andrea got up really late. When she walked to kitchen she saw Bucky, Martha and Grant.

Grant saw her and quickly walked to her. “I missed you!” He said and hugged her really tight.

Andrea giggled and nuzzled to him. “I missed you too… soo much!” She whimpered happily. Grant smiled and kissed her, after a long kiss he looked at her. “I missed you harder…” He muttered happily.

Andrea giggled happily and suddenly realized that Martha and Bucky were watching them whole time. Grant saw how her face became red and looked at Bucky and his mother.

Martha was watching them, smiling gently. Bucky was looking at them with big smiled on his face. “I am puking rainbows!” He yelled and laughed “So cute. Go upstairs… She missed you. Just you two have to be quiet there.”

“Daad!!” Andrea whimpered and her face became even more red. Bucky only giggled and shook his head. “Go go, I will talk with Martha and think what to do with our cap.”

Andrea nodded and took Grant up stairs.

Martha smirked. “They look cute together… I don’t understand why Steve hate her so much.”

Bucky nodded “I don’t understand since We found her…” He said softly.

Chasing the Shadow || Part III || Ending

Summary: After all scary events your life may become calm. Words: 1973 Warnings: none Author: Cass

You could see this. Sun rising on the sky, slowly changing black night into a bright day. Through small window you could see how they were preparing everything, one sight at the gallows made your stomach hurt. Just the imagine of you… hanging there made you sick. Your stomach hurt, your heart was beating faster, you had problems with catching a proper breath, your mind was one big mess.

“What will happen with me later?” “What my parents will say?” “This is the end..” “I don’t wanna die.” All those thoughts, they were loud like a war drum in your head.

You sat on the floor and pulled your legs to your chest, trying to calm yourself down.

“It’s okay… He is gonna come. He would never leave me. He loves me…” You kept repeating those words to calm down your mind.

And you were right. He was gonna come, but he had to plan everything. Ezio didn’t plan to kill whole prison to get you out. He wanted show everyone, that you are assassin’s property that no one can touch or hurt. They had to know that you were under their protection.

He wanted to prove you that you don’t need to be scared. His plan was simple. Assassins kill guards and he kill your executioner and get you, than make sure you will be safe.

You felt cold shivers going through your body when door to your cell hes been opened. Two guards smiled rudely at you. They grabbed your arm and dragged you out of cell. You tried your best to release yourself from their strong grips, you tried to kick and jerk but nothing helped, they were too strong for you.

They took you to the same place from last time… dark cell, few candles and the same old, wooden chair, stained with blood of others that had the “pleasure” to visit this place. You looked around when guards threw you onto this chair.

Then you saw him, he was a commandant of this place. He send you the same smile as guards before.

“Soo, I see you again… Listen, I’m sure you know what fate waits on you outside, so better talk now and I will change my decision”

“No! I will never betray my assassins! NEVER!”

Man only shook his head and slowly put on leather glows. You good knew what this meant…

Man smiled at you rising his hand. “Than suffer for your assassins, slut!” He said and hit you in the face.

The wave of pain moved through your body, even when range of pain was your cheek that become red and swollen from the force of impact. You felt tears in your eyes but you stayed as brave as you could, you saved assassin’s lifes not once. You were brave for them because you knew they will pay all their debts.

Hit, hit, hit another hit, hit after hit was aimed into your already aching face.

“Where are they! Where?! No one will come to safe you.”

Man growled and sighed heavily. He looked at you, all he saw was pathetic, beaten up woman.

“Take her, we will see each other later.” He said and looked away. Guards dragged you back to cell and closed door behind you.

You sighed and again looked outside, you saw how people started to gather up around the gallows. You felt like something squeeze your throat… was it again an imagine of you hanging there.

You felt like with every minute you were closer to your end. What if this man was right, what if they left you, what if this was really your end.

One thing made your heart stop… you saw them… older woman and man… You recognized them, your parents. Two the most important people in your life, people who gave you everything. You felt even worst.

You put your hand between bars and whimpered.

“Mamma! Papà!”

Somehow your mom looked into your direction, she quickly pulled her husband by hand and ran to your window.

“Dio mio! My child…”

She took your bruised hand and put it on her cheek.

“What have you done…”

“Is it true?! You really helped those assassins?!” Your father growled. “How could you? This is such a shame for us! For whole family!”

“Stop it! Looked at her.” Your mother yelled at him.

You looked at them both, with tears in eyes.

“I really… I didn’t… I wanted to…  I had to… please forgive me.”

“There is no forgiveness for you.” Man said. “You deserve the same fate like every assassin.” He said and walked away.

Woman looked at you.

“Is it about him, about this man?” She asked looking at tears on your cheeks.

You only nodded feeling how words got stuck in your throat. “Yes… He is one of them, I was helping them.  Sorry Madre, I love him.”

Woman smiled sadly and put hand between bars to stroke your cheek. “Mother always forgive, I love you my child.” She kissed your hand and slowly walked away.

You felt terrible, you just slide onto floor and started cry, you felt like you really changed.

They came for you, again two guards, they brought black cape for you. One of man put it around your shoulders and put hood on your head. They pushed you out of cell, but you didn’t break. You tried to keep some self pride. You walked, like a lady, listening to all screams, you didn’t pay attention to stuff that were threw into your direction.

You walked onto platform and listened how judge was reading your judgments. “Do you have anything to say before your die?” man asked.

You took deep breath.

“I did nothing wrong! I helped people that really needed this. People which we all need!” You yelled only to meet angry screams from people.

You looked at all of them, you saw your parents somewhere in the crowd. You mother was crying when your father stayed still.

Then you felt thick rope that executioner put onto your throat, he even didn't take off hood from your head.

Suddenly there were some moves in crowd, white hoods! Your heart started beating faster, not from fear but happiness, now you felt safe. You watched how few guards disappeared and were replaced with assassins in guard’s uniforms. One of them winked at you when small knife threw from crowd, weakened rope.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I sentence you to death!” judge yelled.

Your executioner pulled the lever.

The hole under you opened up but you just fell down because rope wasn’t now strong enough to hold your weight. You looked out from the hole to see Ezio quickly killing judge and executioner.

People watched everything terrified.

“People of Rome!”

He yelled and helped you get out from hole. “This woman is under my protection. You touch her - you’re gonna have to fight with me!” He yelled. “I wanna you all to know that. No matter who you are, normal citizen or a soldier. You can’t touch her!”

After that Ezio got onto his horse and helped you got there too. “Let’s go home” He said quietly.  

Ezio jumped off of his horse and took you into his arms.

“What they have done to you?” He said and opened door to his hideout. There were few assassins, they all looked at you and with smile on their faces.

You could saw and feel how happy they were that they saw you again, you heard so many nice words from them. Your man only smiled at you.

“Let’s go take care of you.”

It took him few hours to fully wash your body and properly take care of you, every touch made you shiver.

Ezio gently touched your cheek “You are safe now. No one is gonna touch you ever again.” He said and kissed you softly. You only whimpered happily and kissed him back. Now you really felt safe like never before.

It took you two months to return to your condition. This two months some showed you how much you did for brotherhood, Sometimes you were walking next to Ezio but sometimes not. No matter of that you always could see ready breakfast, it wasn’t always perfect but you could see that assassins tried their best, they were always offering their help, they were bringing  you flowers, they were making shopping for you. Assassins were coming to you only to check if you feel okay and to make sure you aren’t sick or hungry. It was so sweet from their side. Now you knew what you were for them.

But still the most important from them was your man, Ezio tried be with you as often as possible. You loved to lie down to sleep next to him and in the same way to wake up. He always made sure you fell okay and that all your injuries healed properly, he made sure you feel safe.

After few days you walked to Ezio and nuzzled to him.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly.

He smiled and pulled you onto his laps.

“Just planning… I try to find something about Zaccheo [Y/L/N]” Ezio said and stroked your hair. “He is a Templar.”

You blinked and looked at him shocked. “Zaccheo [Y/L/N]…?”

Ezio only nodded. “Something’s wrong?”

“He… He is my father..” You said “But… But he can’t… I mean… God, it would explain his… his behavior two months ago… He was oddly happy that they will hang me…”

Ezio looked at you confused.

“What are you talking about..?”

“My parents found me right before execution. My father… He said that they should hang me because I worked with assassins.” You said. “But he… I would… I never thought that he may be a templar.”

“[Y/N]…” Ezio started, “I’m sorry but… I need to take care of him. He is dangerous… For all of us…” He said and touched your cheek gently. “I’m really sorry…”  

Ezio spend whole night, calming you down but finally you started undstood. That this really needed to happen. You agreed and you did this because you decided to stay with assassins.

You watched how Ezio was leaving hideout to do “his mission”, you knew he was going to get your father. You were scared even when he promised he won’t touch your mother. You trusted him.

You didn’t sleep that night, you waited only to see him and to hear that he did this. When he returned, he looked weird.

“What happened.” You asked.

Ezio looked at you.

“Hey, So… It’s over, Just your father… He Said ‘I’m not afraid of death. I could see why The Order is important. You, assassins pull good people onto bad way. My daughter is a good example of it.’ I never..” Ezio Shivered ” I… i never thought about that in such way.”

You walked to him.

“Ezio… you all did nothing. I joined because I wanted to, no one forced me to anything.” You said and looked at him.

He smiled sadly and hugged you tightly.

“I love you… I will always protect you but… now I want you to pack some stuff. We are leaving Rome tomorrow’s morning. Don’t ask where we are going… you will see.” He said and kissed you.

You returned the kiss and nodded.

At morning you both were ready. Your horse followed Ezio’s horse. You had no idea where are you were going, but you honestly wanted to leave the city. Your direction was unknown but  you were with your man and everything bad stayed in Rome. You felt good with this.

Since this day your life got crazy as hell but finally after long time everything become normal. Ezio took off his hood on forever and you became his wife.

Life finally become calm.