Every bump in the road and stone in the way was felt in the confinement of the van I was currently trapped in. The soldiers sat to the side of my animal cage, although they looked half dead as they stared in front at me which was rather intimidating. Though I was meant to be a super solider- and a good one at that, I still felt I stood no chance against their guns and weaponry. If I was out of the cage and prepared, they'd be long forgotten in no time, but they had taken my knives and I was now trapped in a cage of misery. One soldier has a scar weaved into his cheek, his eyes a beautiful brown. His expression mean and the gun he held in his hand looked as though it had never been used. All for decoration. A woman sat beside him, same position with her gun in her right hand rather than the left the other solider had his in. Her hair was black and, in a bun, tightly tied at the back of her head. If her face once had wrinkles, they weren't showing and the stern expression on her face showed little movement in the time she was there. Almost like she had just had Botox injected into her face leaving her almost still and unmoving.
As I study the soldiers, I realise the confinement I am put in, a clear box with metal outlining, almost as if made to make me look like an art piece or a tiger in a cage with no escape. Tiring with each tap on the glass from a child with sticky fingers; their carer had brought them popcorn or candy floss beforehand. These soldiers, although only trying to serve their country and even if their intentions are pure, are after the wrong people. Apparently from the time that me and Bucky spent with Steve we are suspects for the murder of King T'Chaka, despite the fact I didn't know who the man was until just a few hours ago.
Slowly, the van startled into a stop, sliding my cage forwards slightly even though it was securely placed into the vehicle by ropes and metal chains. Each guard's face didn't change from the stern expression that seemed to adorn each face making me think I was dreaming about the stop; one stands to get the door and the other follow in an orderly fashion. One of them take one glance at me and walk towards heavily muscled people who start to lower me out the van, on some sort of ramp. I look around to see that Bucky is in a similar cage to me, he glances frantically to make sure I am still there.
<>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<>
Gazing around my current surroundings, I find that I have been transported from one blank space with guards to another.
Hours seem to go by and I sit thinking about getting out of here, a life of freedom and peace. Living by a lake and everyday greeting the neighbour that lives down the road as they are the only people for miles. Finding that my potatoes and cabbage have finished growing and the potatoes look good to mash with chicken and carrots for dinner tonight. Looking inside the cabin that I call my home and wiping my wellie boot clad feet on the welcome rug, looking around to see my husband on an armchair reading the 'Wind in the Willows' a book that he loves so dearly and that when we first met, he read to me. In the background 'Swinging On A Star' by Bing Crosby, playing on the wooden radio.
Before any more ideas come to me, the guards look at each other with a frightful look on their face as they've received a message on their channel of walkie talkies. As they rapidly walked out of the room, they glanced back at me almost to say stay here, as if I could escape. Then proceeded to lock it behind them, keeping me away from whatever commotion was happening outside. Now that I know something has happened, I am dying to know what it's about, I started jolting around in my animal cage trying to see if I could get it to budge or anything really. There really was no method behind the madness I was creating, shaking it was really not going to do anything. As I continued to do unnecessary movements that would get me absolutely nowhere, except for being in a sweaty state. I heard a message over the intercoms, "Stay still, you're only wasting energy." says a smug voice. Probably one of the men that sit in an office, eating biscuits out of a jar and settled with his favourite mug beside him that hints to where he went on holiday that year.
After a while, I was bored. There were no guards to look at and contemplate about what their lives were like outside of this state of affairs. My other go to of thinking up my life in the future can only go so far, as I had easily began to persuade myself that I would have to make it out of here first and at this point in time it seems that would not be a likely thing to happen and I would just have to spend the rest of my life trapped in a cage like some helpless animal. Eventually they would have to let me go, surely?
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Hours had passed, or so I thought I hadn't been able to check the clock that ticked endlessly throughout the day. The bastards who'd placed me in here had the clock on the other wall and since my head couldn't do a 360, I was never able to find the time. My watch, that was slightly out of beat with the other clock, was hidden under the sleeve of my comfortable hoodie. Leaving me overly warm in the sudden change of conditions I was in.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of the lock of the door twisting, and now there is a man stood in the doorway. He has little to no hair, but a beard that suited him. I remembered him from the fight we had earlier, the guy who had wings. Nobody was really around the area as it looked from where he had walked in and how nobody was after him, but also the fact that he didn't seem to be in a rush. Walking over to my cage he looked to be contemplating something, but before I had it to myself to be able to think up what he could possibly be thinking. He started using his fist to smash the glass, though he didn't seem to be doing that much damage. After the energy I had sauntered up after my time of nothing but free thoughts, I felt myself use a power I didn't know I had to break the barrier held against me. Once that was broken, I started punching at the same time as Sam, as he had just introduced himself.
Luckily for us, nobody seemed to be around so we were able to make it down into where the vehicles were stored and steal one, smashing through the barrier that disabled our escape and circling the block around the building a few times until we saw Steve carrying a man. It was Bucky. Seeing that he was, alive, once he was in the van, was a relief to say the least. In a slight whisper I asked, "What happened in there?", to which I had a killer story bundled up in my head thanks to Sam as he overstated everything and Steve corrected him. I still, in the end, didn't really know what had happened.
We made it to our destination, within the 2-hour mark, now able to use my watch to check the time. The place looked like an abandoned machinery building, and Steve and Sam moved Bucky to an odd looking machine, or I think that's what it was. Although it did the job of keeping Bucky up. We left the room and Steve started talking, "So do you remember anything from the 40s?" Sam decided to leave after hearing that, thinking it was important for this to be a conversation of your own.
"Yeah, I remember a lot, Bucky too, he just decides to hide it because he doesn't want to look back on the man that he used to be. He always compares himself to the man back then. No matter how hard I try to convince him he is still that person. I'm going off the subject of your question." you laugh slightly to yourself. "Things come and go, they brainwashed us for a while, but as time went on and when we escaped from HYDRA's grasp, we were able to get memories back. Although, some areas are foggy and it's difficult to think of somethings. Sometimes Buck remembers something, and it isn't known to me and vice versa. He keeps his in a book in case something happens to him and then he is able to remember those quicker than normal."
Steve listened with a confused face, still full of questions. You started to speak again, "Like I remember the times we used to go out dancing and Buck would set you up with a date who would show no notice to you, and I would get set up with a guy who was much more interested in the girls Bucky had chained to his hip. I remember how hard you found it to fit in because of your slight disadvantage.."
Steve chuckled, "It wasn't slight, it was a huge disadvantage. Getting sick all the time, being made fun of by everyone and not being able to stick up for myself and my friends. I think back to some of those times and think about how I could have tried harder then."
"Steve, you did all you could, and for that we were, are, grateful. Though I realise now and through some of the memories I have, that we never showed it. And for that I am sorry, I always thought it and maybe it was something you needed to hear." you said touching his arm, the first time you'd touched him in decades. Though suddenly you weren't just touching his arm, you were enveloping him in a tight hug. One that felt decades too late, but was well worth it.
Sam called out to us that Bucky was stirring, he groans in exhaustion, discomfort and guilt. "Steve." he calls out.
"Which Bucky am I talking to?" he questions suspiciously.
"Your mums name was Sarah," then he chuckled and continued, "You used to wear newspapers in your shoes." you smiled remembering the memory of Steve's embarrassed face after the two of you had found out.
"Can't read that in a museum."
Sam was sceptical of the whole ordeal so butted in, "Just like that we are meant to be cool." Lifting an eyebrow at Steve sending him back on track with what seemed to look like an interrogation about what happened with the man that had set him into winter soldier mode.
an,
hello and sorry, it seems i'm back at writing, ish.
I will try and update when possible although i don't know when the next update with be.
hope you are all well and having a good day!
-erin
word count; 1876