Chapter Text
"Bucky, we gotta get going!" Steve yelled into the old but new house that his friend had bought himself a couple weeks back. After being freed from Hydra's grasp, the long haired man had bought a house as far away from civilization as he could get. He found that a secluded cottage in New Hampshire was good enough.
James Buchanan Barnes finished packing up his suitcase for the short weekend. He looked outside his bedroom window, not particularly fond of the clouds passing overhead. It was cold and his metal arm was colder. "Steve, I think there's a storm comin '." He called back, grabbing the rolling bag and bringing it down the stairs. "I don't think it's safe."
They were driving from Ossipee , New Hampshire to New York City for some final meetings about Bucky's previous involvements with Hydra. He didn't want to go for the life of him, but Steve had talked him into it. It was reassuring to know that he'd be there with him just in case anything went wrong. He had a way with having that happen.
"C'mon, Buck. It'll be fine. It's a five hour ride and I'm sure we'll make it out before the snow gets bad." He promised his friend, clapping a hand on his back as he walked past him. "We'll be okay."
They locked the doors and headed out to the car that Steve had rented for the trip. Bucky felt bad for putting him through so much trouble, but he was enormously grateful. The blond man threw the other's bag into the trunk before getting into the driver's seat. Bucky got into the passenger's side, taking his walkman that Steve had been lending him out of his pocket.
"Five hours. Well, good thing you gave me a couple tapes..." He mumbled, still not entirely sure how to work it as he put on his headphones.
"Oh, come on, Buck. You're not gonna listen to your music the whole way, are you? I know you're fond of the Beastie Boys but I want to talk to you, bud." He said as he backed out of the driveway before smiling at his friend.
Bucky grumbled something about how he could if he wanted to. "Fine, fine." He said eventually with a sigh, taking off the headphones and putting them by his feet. He buckled in and sat back in his chair, staring out the window.
The snow was piled up a foot and a quarter, but was completely off the roads. It wouldn't melt for a while, though. It reminded Bucky of Brooklyn when he was a kid. Although, now with global warming and over population in New York, the land there was rarely covered in even a few inches.
Steve started talking about a couple new movies and shows he had started watching, sounding like an expert on M*A*S*H and I Love Lucy. He could go on for hours about all of the catching up he had done on media. And they had five whole hours for him to do just that.
Bucky occasionally added a few pieces of information to what Steve was talking about, but he wasn't paying much attention. Before, spacing out during a lengthy conversation was what he was best at, and this was no different. He stared out of the window with a blank look on his face as the snow started to fall.
It was so cold in the building. The metal bed he was laying on wasn't helping. He was shivering. Was that shivering? It seemed more like convulsing. He opened up his eyes, a mask over his nose and mouth. A man was hovering over him with a large tool in his hand.
He found that there wasn't enough power in his muscles to sit up, but he could lift his head. He tried to wiggle his fingers, but he couldn’t see his arm. He knew where his arm was supposed to be. Where was it? Where was his arm? He felt a needle penetrate his right bicep and his eyes started to droop again until he was unconscious.
"Buck? Hey, Bucky?"
A voice interrupted the fragmented memory. He sat up and shook his head a bit before clearing his throat. "Yeah?" He asked, turning to Steve.
Steve sighed as he realized that he was having a flashback. He patted his half metal, half flesh shoulder before putting his hand back on the steering wheel. "You okay?" He asked, glancing over again.
Bucky nodded before letting out a long breath. "Yeah, I am. I think I am." He said, nodding once more.
Steve looked over at him worriedly before he went on with what he was saying. "I was just wondering if you have seen Jaws yet. Clint keeps raving about it, but it seems pretty boring."
Bucky ran his metal fingers through his hair to get it out of his face, bringing his knees to his chest and putting his feet on the dashboard. "No, no I haven't." He answered quietly.
"Well, maybe we can watch it once we get to the hotel. We'll have time before we gotta sleep. I have my alarm set for six in the morning tomorrow. We've got to get up early to get ready and eat breakfast before going to the meetings."
He sighed at the mention of the meetings. He was dreading them. Something about Nick Fury really put him off. He stared at him like he had tried to kill him or something. Maybe he had. He hated to think about what he did. He couldn't remember any specific missions or exercises that they made him go through. All he knew is that he had a target to assassinate and to report back once the job was done.
Steve saw the look of anxiety on Bucky's face. "Hey, it'll be fine. They're not gonna hurt you. They're the good guys." He promised, glancing over at him a few times. That wasn't entirely true since what happened with SHIELD, but there was no reason to worry his friend more.
"Yeah, yeah..." Bucky replied, turning to look out the window again as Steve started talking about some Beatle band. Soon, he was slumped with his forehead against the window, light snoring coming from his sleeping figure.