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Stepping into the void, Bucky didn’t know what to expect. He stilled at the sight before him. He's had years of therapy, but he still wasn’t expecting to see himself ‘training’ as the Winter Soldier. His other self, brutally beating up an agent for the first time as his trainer yells at him to keep going.
The Winter Soldier hesitates, both him and Bucky staring down at the grotesquely unidentifiable face. His past self screams in pain as electric shocks convulse through his body, punishment for even the hint of mercy.
Bucky looks away as his past Hydra inflicted mind goes back to beating the shit out of the poor agent; already long dead by this point.
The memory restarts as the Russian words are screamed at his old self, and Bucky tries to calm himself not to react.
Breathe Bucky, breathe.
You’re not him anymore.
Find Yelena. Find Bob.
Bucky reopens his eyes, the visual massacre, a display of horrific violence in front of him as he forces himself to look away.
There’s people to save.
Think of the people.
Bucky can feel his throat close up while he methodically looks around the room for an exit. Any possible way to leave and hopefully find where his… teammates? work colleagues?… went. They had to be here somewhere. They all disappeared into the void together. Where could they be?
He steps past the guard, angry Russian commands still pouring out of his mouth while Bucky controls himself not to flinch.
Opening the door- or would gate be a better name for it? The metal cage keeps him, his 30 year old self, the hydra guard and long dead agent all in the same locked room together; while scientists write down notes and whisper to each other outside of it.
The exit to said cage proves a challenge to unlock, but once he does, a weight feels as though it’s lifted from his shoulders.
The memory feels different to watch now that he’s on the side with testers and not that of the test subject.
Relocking the door was a mistake.
All eyes were on him, as everything finally went silent for the first time since being here.
“Get back in here, soldier.” The guard ordered, thick 40s Russian filling the silence. Despite him screaming for the past couple of minutes; his voice was strangely fine.
Bucky knew something was very wrong the moment the Winter Soldier got off the agent, turning towards Bucky with nothing but rage in his eyes.
His blood ran cold. It’s not every day your past self looks as though he wants to murder you.
Is this how his victims felt?
Frozen, unable to move.
The sound of a pin able to pierce through the silence.
Heart beating so rapidly, it’s a surprise it’s still in there.
Bucky knew what he had to do.
He didn’t want to do it, he wasn’t prepared mentally.
But is he really ever?
Bucky ran.
Scientists tried to grab him, to hold him back and force him into the cage again. To forever relieve the first time he beat a man to death. His past self was banging against the cage, screaming at him words he couldn’t understand.
Bucky didn’t care for it. He needed to get out, to get to Yelena. To get to Bob.
Crashing into a wooden door, Bucky immediately toppled over.
He breathes heavily as he lays down in the snow, the door he went through now underneath his feet as he can faintly hear the yells of the guard restarting the memory once more.
Grunting as he makes his way up, he stills while he crouches at the sound of footsteps.
Being as silent as he can to not get spotted, he hears the faint mumbles of a wounded man.
Bucky carefully follows the guy as he limps through the forest, a 1940s American army uniform covered with blood, sweat and snow.
“Why’d I have to get drafted… why’d I have to split up from Steve… I need a drink…”
He continues to mumble as he crassly ties his arm with a makeshift bandage.
His mumbles stop when he notices the sound of other footsteps in the snow. The soldier’s head snaps up as Bucky gets a good look at his face. William.
“Bucky?” Will asks, looking at the man a few feet in front of him. Bucky’s heart sinks as he recognises the memory. Not Will- please.
His past self stays quiet as he looks up at Will, his friend's face staring back at him in disbelief.
“Bucky we thought you were dead.” Will steps forward, closer to his younger self. Leave, Will. Please.
“Are you okay? I’m certainly not the best myself but together we have a higher chance of finding someone to help. I don’t have any food or water but come on, let’s look together, yeah?” Will steps even closer, lightly grabbing his arm.
The Winter Soldier grabs Will’s arm, using his new metal one to quickly stab him in the throat. Kicking Will backwards, he topples over at the sudden force and sinks into the snow.
Bucky’s cry lodges deeply in his throat. He wishes he could say sorry.
“Bucky? Why-“ Will’s question is cut off as blood pours from his mouth and throat. It’s only adding more blood to his uniform, fresher, newer blood.
Bucky watches as his friend reaches his good hand out towards The Winter Soldier, a small plea for help, while his supposed ‘friend’ walks away to receive more orders.
Bucky lets out the breath he was holding as the memory resets, inadvertently reminding him of his goal being here.
Ignoring Will — his friend, bunk mate, the guy who he always promised to take out for a drink and never did — Bucky walks away from the scene, heading towards anywhere but there in the forest.
Snow falls around him as he continues walking.
A now far away, “Bucky?”, can be heard as he continues walking.
He lets out a shuddering breath.
Will’s already dead.
Has been for most of his life now.
He can’t save Will.
He isn’t able to save Will.
He can save others.
Trees start to move, reaching out to grab him as he starts running.
This void, the memories that caused him some of the most grief and pain, was trying to keep him there.
He refuses to be kept there any longer.
He will get out.
A painted snow forest wall encroaches in the distance.
Bucky runs faster.
Bracing himself for impact, he slams through the wall.
Screaming.
His screams.
He’s tied up as electroconvulsive shocks scorch through his body.
The Memory Suppressing Machine continues to run as Bucky watches his past self, only a decade or so ago, lose all memories once more.
Wiping all memories he’s made or he could’ve possibly recovered.
It starts over.
“I knew him.” His past self states, dazed and confused by the information in his mind.
Bucky sighs, looking away as the conversation keeps going. He needs to get out of here.
He understands why they erased his memories of Steve, but it still hurt.
That was his best friend.
The guy he grew up with, and looked after.
The guy who would get into trouble and Bucky always had to save him.
And Hydra wanted to erase that.
Slipping past the guards and other agents that he doesn’t care to remember (but still can’t seem to not be in fear of. He was the Winter Soldier and yet his voice is so small in comparison to theirs. Hydra's most valuable asset and yet even the janitor had more freedom than he did) Bucky walks out of the room.
He walks past open jail cell doors and turns the corner, facing a wall.
Does he really need to smash through a wall every single time?
Bucky moves back in the small room to try to get as much running distance as he can to have enough force to break through.
Just as he was about to run, hands grab him and force him back into the room. His past self is getting ready for the memory wipe, willingly letting them place in the mouth guard as he leans back on the chair.
Bucky struggles against the arms holding him, trying to make his way out as his past scream screams out in pain once more.
He can’t be here.
He can’t let himself stay while he watches his memories leave him over and over again.
He’s done not having a voice.
“Let me go you selfish-“ He screams at them as he centres himself before throwing all of his weight to one side, successfully throwing the agents off of him and sending them flying.
Bucky once again runs, pushing agents out of the way as he slams through yet another wall.
“It’s okay James. You’ll be okay.”
No.
“But mama, what about you?”
No.
Bucky stills at the sight. His mother, once so full of life, forced to be bedridden. His eight year old self crying at her side, holding onto the sheets so tightly as his knuckles turn white.
“We’re here to talk about you sweetheart.”
Bucky can feel his knuckles turn white.
“But mama-“
His throat is closing up.
“Shh… shh.. it’s okay. You’ll be okay. You have to promise me you’ll take care of Rebecca right?”
Rebecca.
“Of course mama.”
Mama.
“Good, good.”
I’m sorry.
His mother carefully pats his head, her arm stiff as James moves closer to her.
Bucky's heart sinks.
He doesn't want to remember this.
Anything but this.
Anything.
“Mama?”
His voice was so small. So shaky. He sounded like a small breeze could knock him over. It probably could. Even with his tough guy exterior, at that age he could probably crumble if a leaf pushed him.
“Yes James?”
His mother hummed, patting the side of her bed to signal for him to hop up. He does, carefully climbing beside her to not put too much pressure on her as he settles down.
He hugs his arms around her while she rubs his back, waiting for what her son wants to tell her.
“I don’t want you to leave me mama. I’m scared.”
James’s voice cracks as he admits his fears to his mother.
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry.”
No, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry mama.
Bucky can hear the lump in her throat as she slowly brings her other arm around his small frame. She pulls him closer and tries to hug him as tight as she can, even if her arms are too weak.
“Please don’t leave me mama.” James whispers, holding onto her tighter.
Please come back mama.
Bucky remembers it now. He stayed with her the entire night, falling asleep in her arms. Safety holding onto him so tightly that he could dream that everything would be okay. She would be dead by morning.
James would be woken up by his sister’s cries, Rebecca had another nightmare, and he would have to leave his mother’s still warm embrace to attend to her.
The memory resets.
Bucky has to leave.
His head turns to the door, knowing what he has to do.
For humanity.
For Bob.
Who the fuck is Bob.