Chapter Text
The door to the frozen base groaned as the metal was forced open. Two figures slunk into the darkness.
Small lines of light came through cracks in the foundation, barely cutting through the blackness that filled the rooms. They scoped the first floor, nothing. Regrouping, they looked around, one of the figures brushed his hand over a table, sending a thick wave of dust into the air.
“I don’t think anyone’s been here in a long time, Steve.”
Steve dropped his shoulders,
“Yeah,” He reached up and removed his helmet. “but we have to keep looking.”
{One week earlier}
Bucky looked out the window over the twisting jungle of Wakanda. Here he was again, preparing to be frozen, to have his life put on hold yet again. But this time it would be different, this time there would be a better outcome. He turned as Steve appeared beside him,
Steve gave a weak grin, “When this is all over we’ll go get donuts and cider, whaddaya say?”
Bucky’s lips tugged sadly at the reference from a long ago time. He turned and looked at Steve. He was so different he almost couldn’t recognize him, but those eyes and the memories they’d seen would always be the same. Bucky could get lost in Steve’s eyes.
But suddenly something in him stirred under the piercing blue of Steve’s gaze.
Bucky shook as a wave ripped through him, a memory too fast to decipher, something in Steve’s eyes had resurfaced something long forgotten. He stumbled back, reaching out for Steve to stable himself.
Concern flashed through Steve’s gaze, his brows furrowed in silent questioning.
Bucky blinked, there was something itching at his brain, a remnant of the memory flash. Something was in his head, scratching its way out.
He grabbed his head, “I need a pen.“ he gasped.
"A pen and paper. Now.”
Steve grabbed one from a nearby table, Bucky snatched it from his grasp and began frantically writing. He felt fevered, he couldn’t breath until it was out. His hand slashed over the paper, the thought spreading from his mind to the pen.
He stepped back.
Steve picked up the piece of paper, an increased look of confusion settled on his features.
“These are coordinates.” He read it again. “To what?”
Bucky had no answer, it was a memory from a different life, something purposely engraved into the folds of his mind, it must be important.
A nurse tapped him on the shoulder,
“We’re ready to begin.”
_____
They had followed the coordinates here, 64°58'49.0"N 95°25'24.8"E, the middle of Russia.
Now after 3 floors deeper into the earth, the base was feeling more and more like a dead end. Sam and Steve had split up to cover more ground. Steve walked through endless musty rooms filled with useless papers and overturned furniture. Each had a chilling HYDRA symbol carved into the wall, Steve glared.
Sam’s voice cut the stillness, “Hey! Over here!”
Steve followed Sam’s voice and came out into a larger room than the others. Sam gestured to the corner.
A small orange glow emanated from a strange machine, the hum of a motor warned that the machine was still in use. Somehow there was still power going to whatever it was, and in an abandoned base, that means one thing:
Whatever this is, it’s important. Whatever it is, it’s so important that it was written into Bucky’s brain. Whatever it is, It was not meant to be forgotten.
Steve stepped close to the machine, inspecting it for any immediate threat of danger. He noticed a dip in the metal that signaled the placement of a window. He lifted his hand and brushed away layers of dust, a pit forming in his stomach with every swipe of his hand. The window was clear.
His heart stopped.
Bile fled up his throat as he choked back a sob, no no no, this isn’t real.
His mind wiped, and he stared blankly into the window of the machine.
Before him was the last face he ever expected to see, the one face he never expected to see again, the one face that sent his world crumbling back down around him; all suspended in a frozen sleep.
.