Breaking back into his version of hell was not something Bucky wanted to do ever ever again in his life. But when the Avengers had gotten hold of intel that a new generation of Hydra agents had been experimenting on a breed of super soldiers in order to uproot the Earth, Bucky really didn't have a choice. He'd already been through hell and back. He couldn't let that happen to anyone else, no matter the personal cost. So as much as he hated it, when Steve had interrupted halfway through his midnight gym session, and had explained the new mission with the most regretful and apologetic look on his face, Bucky knew it wasn't going to be an easy one. But again, Captain's orders.
The only easy day was yesterday he thinks.
It was a stealth mission. No survivors. Which meant only Steve, Natasha, Wanda and Bucky were going to be on the field. Tony had the location and the tech to break the advanced shield protecting the abandoned warehouse in a ghostown in Belgium and along with the rest of the team he was active on the comms, working behind the scenes.
No civilian in that warehouse was going to be left behind. And no Hydra agent was going to see the light of day again.
All four of them were on the quinjet, suiting up while Tony flew them remotely through Jarvis's mainframe. It managed to get them safely to the field, and also minimised the risk of team members being injured. The lesser the casualties, the better.
Natasha and Bucky were naturals at stealth missions, having the skills to carry out such missions with ease. Steve was quite literally a war veteran, and had decided to take on the responsibility of training Wanda up for these type of missions. Her skill set was valuable when hostiles were needed to be kept quiet. They were at the back, talking quietly but urgently, no doubt getting ready for the drop off. Natasha was composed as she always was. This was just another day of being an Avenger. Fighting crime, she was wiping the red of her ledger, one mission at a time.
Bucky wasn't so sure. Last time he'd been here, his mind was put through a blender to forget the man on the bridge. Last time he was here, he wasn't allowed to go to the end of the line. But last time he was here, he was training with you. Bucky's not sure why he remembers the girl with dreams in her eyes. The girl was part of his training cohort, assigned specifically to him so her combat skills could improve. Bucky wonders if she got out. Bucky wonders about the number of innocent people she might have killed. But Bucky also wonders if she still has dreams in her eyes.
"Hands up. Always protect the face." Your hands snap back into position, realising that they've been dropping as you focus on your kicks. He's watching, always watching, correcting your moves, your posture your fight technique. You continue the roundhouse kicks, wearing away the leather till little grains of sand start pouring out like waterfalls. In your mind, they're someone else's blood. You keep going until the bag snaps and falls to the ground, lying limp at the man's feet.
"Good. Training's over. Debrief soldier" is all he says. It gives you enough time to clean and change your tactical gear before you're muzzled to the chair for your 'debrief'.
Later that night, when the world is dead and the stars have burnt out, you walk around the compound, your bare footfalls silent in the gore-filled corridors. You don't think of where you're going but you stop outside his room. The room in which a man slept, his eyes hiding the seas that roamed free and wide. His door is open and he sleeps on his side, always facing the small window in every room. His breaths are long and deep and the moonlight casts the side of his face in an ethereal glow. His sharp jawline, the full lips, the high cheekbones, thick eyebrows. You notice all of his features indifferently, as if they made no sense to you. But you know you'll dream of him one day. Strands of his hair lying across his forehead, falling down his eyes. His blue eyes full of seas looking straight at you.
