Run (A Bucky Barnes Recovery Story)

75 Capture

The funny thing was, Bucky didn’t remember falling asleep. As he woke up, his head a pounding, blurry mess, he tried to think what the last thing that had happened was. He was in a car, with Steve. They were talking about Russia and then, suddenly… He was here. As Bucky slowly but surely gained more and more of his consciousness, he realized several things. One was that he was somewhere dark, and fiercely cold. Another was that he couldn’t move his arms and legs-he was being restrained, back down on some sort of table. Oh no, Bucky thought. That wasn’t a good sign. That was in fact, a very bad sign.

And the way he sat in the dark, unable to move and unsure of what torment was to follow was so familiar that he could feel the dam pushing inside his mind. Things were leaking through and Bucky remembered torture. He remembered isolation.

No no no no no no no not again I can’t do this again

Bucky turned his head and saw Steve in a similar position lying close to him in the darkness. His eyes were closed. Bucky didn’t know what to do and he was trying not to panic out of fear and confusion. He listened to the darkness hard and heard nothing. There was no one around. Still, not wanting to bring anyone near, because it was most certainly Hydra, it was always Hydra, Bucky whispered loudly to Steve.

Steve stirred in the slightest and Bucky watched his eyes open slowly and take in his situation.

“Steve,” Bucky hissed frantically and Steve turned to look at Bucky. His expression was unreadable through the darkness. He groaned loudly. “Shh,” Bucky said quickly.

“What happened?” Steve whispered back. His voice sounded strained, he was mumbling and not completely awake.

“I have no idea,” Bucky said. Steve stared at him for a moment, as if still processing the situation.

“Are you okay?” He said suddenly as though he had forgotten to ask. “Your memory...” Bucky nodded as best he could with the back of his skull pressed against the metal table.

“I’m fine,” he said. “You don’t sound so good though, are you alright?”

“My head is killing me,” Steve replied. Bucky took a deep breath and turned his head forward, staring at the ceiling and trying not to panic. Hydra had him, they had the both of them and Bucky had no idea what to do. Steve was hurt or else still out of it and as much as Bucky began to strain, he couldn’t break the bonds around his arms and legs.

“We need to get out of here,” he said, swallowing.

“Uuuuugggh,” Steve groaned and Bucky fought to force back his fear. What if this was it? What if he couldn’t fight back in the end? What if they had him now, their attack a total surprise, and he had only moments to wait until they came in and took everything from him that he had managed to gain? His 70 year fate worse than death. Bucky looked over at Steve, who was closing his eyes again and muttering.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” Bucky said.

“‘Bout what, Buck?” Steve mumbled.

“This is my fault,” Bucky replied. “I’m gonna… I’ll get us out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve said and looking at him now, Bucky realized that at least, Steve was right about one thing.

I have nothing, Bucky remembered screaming and the answer he heard again in his head hit him this time harder than it had before because suddenly, Bucky knew it was true.

You have me.

Bucky felt sick as he realized all that he had been taking for granted in his misery. He would never have nothing, not completely, not with Steve. And oh, he had so much, so much to lose.

Steve, on the table next to Bucky, was beginning to slip under the tranquilizers again. Bucky wondered if they gave them both the same thing and he wondered just how strong it had been. All Bucky knew was that he had to keep Steve awake. Steve had to be okay.

“Steve, Steve, hey!” Bucky said, taking his chances with the volume. Steve’s eyelids fluttered and Bucky began to push against the bonds frantically now. There was so much to lose. Steve couldn’t be hurt because of him, Bucky wouldn’t be able to live with that. “Hey, wake up, okay, stay with me.”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, mumbling. Bucky shimmied up under the braces, one leg coming free. He celebrated silently and pulled his other leg out, now that the bands there were so loose. Only his arms and chest to go now.

“Talk to me, okay?” Bucky said to Steve. “Stay awake, tell me things.”

“What do you wanna… Whado you wanna hear?” Steve said.

“Uh…,” Bucky said, trying to think quickly. He still couldn’t hear anyone approaching, which was a blessing. “Uh, tell me about… When we were kids? I still don’t remember hardly any of that.” Steve began talking, staring at the ceiling, and most of what he said wasn’t entirely cohesive, but he was awake and he was going to be okay and Bucky took a deep breath and began to concentrate on trying to pull his right arm free.

“We, uh, we got a place together once both of our parents were dead. I was in school and you were working and you had a girlfriend.”

There was some sort of clasp where the leather braces attached and Bucky pulled at it with his entire arm, the leather biting into his skin and he felt wetness and a sting. But then, the clasp was beginning to give way and Bucky was breathing heavily with the strain of it until he heard a tearing and the whole thing came undone.

“She was really nice, she liked science. I mostly just drew a lot. That was all I really knew how to do.”

Pulling his arm away, Bucky began to tear at the clasps around his left arm and chest now, but he was shaking and it took him a minute to undo both of them.

“You were the best friend a guy could have. I’m so sorry, so sorry, you didn’t deserve anything you got, Buck, I couldn’t help you… Couldn’t… Help you…”

Steve was still talking, his mutters sprinkled with a few recognizable words, like Buck and Brooklyn and art and always apologies. Bucky slung his legs off the table and began to try to stand, but he was shaking and his legs were weak and he collapsed. It’s okay, it’s okay, he told himself as he dragged himself to his feet.

“You okay?” Steve said.

“Don’t worry about me,” Bucky said. This was, after all, what Steve would do if their positions were switched. Steve would be tough. Bucky ground his teeth and steeled his resolve and forced himself to stand steady. Then, he turned to Steve and began to undo his straps. “Think you can walk?” He asked, even though he was sure Steve probably couldn’t, but he nodded anyway.

Bucky helped Steve sit up, slinging Steve’s arm around his shoulder and hoisting him up. He helped him slide off the table and onto the ground and when Steve went down, Bucky nearly did, too. But with their combined strength, Bucky was able to drag Steve back up.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Bucky was saying. He honestly wasn’t sure what he was doing, or how he was doing it. It was as though he knew he couldn’t panic, not yet, not when he had to take care of Steve. He felt distinctly together for a while, like he hadn’t ever been broken, but he wasn’t happy. It wasn’t a moment to celebrate because he probably didn’t have much time before the reality of himself crashed back down on him and he needed to get Steve safe before that happened, before he became wreckage once more.

But for a while, he had some sort of borrowed strength in the knowledge that he had so much to lose and he was going to use it to get out.

The door was locked, of course, and Bucky sat Steve down so he could try to kick it open, but before he could, the lock turned and the door opened. Bucky’s mouth went dry and he looked down to Steve, who was trying to stand. What was he going to do??

No no no no no no, a rhythm, a pounding of no’s echoing in his head.

He felt Steve grab his prosthetic shoulder and although it sent a warning shock through him, he simply grit his teeth and tried to forget it. He raised his fists and he could feel now the confidence that was he suddenly aware of crumbling. The dam pushed in on him, heavy and full and he shook off the memories of torment that caved in on him. If only he had a gun.

This is it, Bucky thought. This is the end of everything we’ve built.