• If I could turn back time •

23. Don't Save Me

"The guy he is now... I don't think he's the kind you save, he's the kind you stop."
———

"You're Steve." I murmured, still staring at him with a somewhat confused look on my face. What was he doing here? Why was he in uniform? All these questions were making my head spin. It gave me a headache.

He nodded, a stoic expression still on his face. I could see through his disguise, though. His eyes gave it all away, they were filled with fear. He seemed to know what was about to happen and it put me on edge. "Look, I know you're scared. That's why you left, isn't it?" He asked, tilting his head.

I looked away for a moment, biting my lip. I didn't want to tell him that's why I left. "I don't know..." I murmured, shaking my head. I could feel his gaze burning into me and shrunk back in shame, keeping my gaze averted from his. It was hard to even look him in the eye. Why? I felt like I was talking to a stranger. This Steve didn't seem like the Steve I knew.

"Yes you do... I'm trying to help you." Steve's eyes narrowed, his thick eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he watched me pull off my gloves. "It doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck." His voice had become strained with emotion now, quivering in slight fear. I didn't like hearing him talk like that.

I let out a heavy sigh and looked at him, a firm look of despair locked in my expression. Was he really trying to help me? I hated second-guessing myself, but everything that had happened up to this point was changing how I saw things. "It always ends in a fight..." I muttered bitterly, flinching when I heard glass shattering.

And then everything went to hell.

———

What happened after they stormed my apartment was all a blur. I remember running from some man in a black cat suit, but everything after that went by way too quickly for me to even comprehend what happened. Now I was locked up in the top-notch restraints of a cage made specially for people like me while being watched by cameras. I couldn't help but blame Steve for what happened, but I knew it wasn't his fault. It was mine. I brought this upon myself when I made the decision to leave.

Was he watching me through the cameras like everyone else was? Just waiting for me to break out like some wild animal? I knew people were watching me through the cameras, that wasn't what unsettled me though.. I felt like there was someone else in the room with me, just watching and waiting. It sent shivers down my spine and I found myself constantly scanning the room. I jumped when I heard someone actually enter the room, my eyes immediately landing on them. It was a man wearing glasses and a white coat. Another psychiatrist, no doubt. My mood went south and I narrowed my eyes, watching his every move.

"I'm not here to judge you, I just want to ask you a few questions." The man began, taking a seat at a table that was sitting a few feet away from me. "Do you know where you are, James?"

I remained silent, only giving the man a cold, hard glare. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want this to end up like the last time they tried to get a psychiatrist to help me. I only wanted to talk to Steve and Steve alone, no one else. I didn't trust anyone else.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

I grit my teeth together. That name. It sounded wrong. I didn't like it. Why did people keep calling me that? "My name is Bucky..." I muttered, averting my gaze from the man and focusing on the floor instead.

The man continued talking and asking questions, most of which I didn't really answer. I saw him writing things down on a notepad, but I didn't know what he was writing down. It made me uneasy. This whole situation made me uneasy. But then it got worse.

"Tell me Bucky... you've seen a great deal, haven't you?" He asked, his tone shifting from neutral to oddly inquisitive. It was weird. Very weird.

"I don't wanna talk about it.."

"You feel that.. if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don't worry... we only have to talk about one."

My heart started beating a little bit faster out of anxiety. What was he talking about? I didn't like where this was going. And then suddenly, all the lights went out. "What the hell is this...?" I asked, looking around for a moment before refocusing on the man.

The man just continued like nothing was wrong. "Why don't we discuss your home?" He asked, turning to reach into the bag that was sitting on the table. "Not Romania, certainly not Brooklyn, no... I mean, your real home." In his hand was a red book with a star on the cover. It made my blood run cold. "желаниe."

Something clicked in my mind, something that hadn't been touched in what felt like forever. It was a horrible feeling. I knew what was happening. My lower lip quivered as I tilted my head back, squeezing my eyes shut for a second. "No..."

"pжавый."

"Stop.."

"семнадцать."

I could feel my metal arm tense as he continued to say the words. I was slowly losing control. "Stop." I growled, clenching my jaw as the grip on my mind grew tighter.

"рассвет!"

I let loose a scream, straining against the restraints that held me down. I tried to fight it, eventually being able to break out of one restraint with my metal arm and attempting to get the other one off. I had to get out of there before he finished.

"Печь!"

I was punching the thick glass of the door now, desperately trying to get out.

"Девять!"

I couldn't get out. I felt my grip on freedom slowly loosening as the programming inside my brain took over.

"Доброкачественные!"

Punch. Punch. Punch. A new kind of strength enveloped me, but not the kind I wanted. I had lost all control.

"Возвращение домой!"

No.

"Один!"

No...

"грузовой вагон."

The door of the cage flew off its hinges after one last punch. The man stood there with a hesitant posture, book in hand as he stared at me. Red lights were now softly flashing in the room, lighting up his face. He slowly walked around in front of me as I stood up, a blank expression on my face. He looked at me in awe, almost like he didn't believe it had actually worked. "солдат?" He asked softly, almost fearfully.

"Готовы соблюдать." I muttered systematically, as if the words had come from a machine instead.

The man's expression seemed to lighten upon hearing that. "Mission report: December 16th, 1991."

---

Man, its been a while since I last updated this! I used Russian in this chapter (hopefully it's right, lol) to keep it as close to the scene as possible. The first bunch that go right after one another are Bucky's trigger words, and then the last two are "soldier?" and "ready to comply".

Hope you enjoyed!