The man in the interrogation room stared at them as if he could read their minds. As if he knew exactly where they were and exactly what they were thinking.
They thought they were in control but he was clearly taunting them about something. And they all had no doubt they were going to find out very soon.
The man had been here for close to a week with no contact from the outside world and virtually no contact in here either. So how would it be possible that he knew what was going to happen? Surely they were all just being paranoid, right?
He could have come in here knowing the plan, but there was no way for him to know if it changed or if it worked, whatever it was.
But the terrorists can't be that many steps ahead of them. To have a plan in place, a plan that works so perfectly, this man, who's been here for a week, can still successfully pull it off.
"Can he see us?" Wanda asks what everyone's thinking.
"No", whispers Nat.
They watch the man back with an equal gaze as Sam says quietly:
"Something's wrong".
"Maybe we've missed something", says Clint, eyes still trained on the man.
Tony looks back. He feels as if they're racing against an imaginary clock. He can feel the minutes counting down. But they don't even know what the race is, and the other team seem to be almost at the finish line.
"We have to have missed something", Nat points out. "He wasn't surprised we knew his name, despite not telling us, so he was probably wasting time for something. We know where he works, and we have his routine, so he's confident we haven't found anything. Yet he knows something we don't".
"We have to be close. He's never done this before or even reacted during interrogation except for Nat that one time. So we must already have the information that can tell us more. Right?" Wanda said.
But they'd gone through all this information so many times each, the only new piece was the plane ticket, but how could that show anything?
Tony got a notification and brought out his phone.
"I have a match on Walter King at a college".
The others dragged their eyes away from the man and grouped together to see.
"He went to Massachusetts institute of technology", Tony mumbled as he scrolled for more information.
"What did he graduate in?" One of the others asked.
After looking, Tony found it. "Chemical engineering. I think we're getting somewhere".
"Chemical engineering", Bruce repeated quietly. "That makes more sense than his office job. I bet he can do some useful stuff for the people he works for., But I still don't understand, why did they send him here? He sounds valuable".
"Why do answers always just lead to more questions?!" Sam groaned, completely exasperated.
"Ohhhh", Tony said quietly, getting everyone's attention. "I wouldn't be surprised if they had their eyes on him for a while. I've just found a hidden juvenile record".
He turned the phone around for the others to read, and they gasped.
"This is the same person?" Wanda asked as she looked back at the man.
The small article showed a picture of a partially destroyed building and read, 'on Friday afternoon, a large explosion destroyed most of a school building in Massachusetts. When local authorities arrived at the scene, it is believed that a young boy caused the accident. They found remnants of a bomb in a storage cupboard, but the young man assured everyone it was an accident and he didn't know it would work. The judge believed him, and he got no jail time'.
"That wasn't an accident", Sam muttered. "He accidentally set off a bomb but made sure he left the building first".
Tony looked at them all in shock, making them worry when he didn't say anything.
"Are you okay, Tony?" Wanda questioned.
He mumbled something, but no one could understand.
"Did he have a bag?" He said clearer.
They looked at each other, slightly unsure.
"I think he did", said Nat. "Buts it's been checked and locked away as evidence".
"We need to find it", Tony suddenly shouted. "Where's the bag?!"
He started out of the room in a panic when a loud boom rumbled under their feet. Before they could ask anything, another bang, even closer this time, erupted from the ground and a hole opened up along the building. Rubble flew everywhere, and they all blocked their eyes from it.
The floor shifted, and metal groaned. Everywhere shook as if New York was suddenly overcome by an eight-magnitude earthquake. They all fell from their feet when the ceiling above crushed down, and walls collapsed on themselves, setting everything into a dusty darkness.
*
Bucky's fingers were completely numb, he could barely feel the ice above him as he clawed at it with the last morsel of strength in him.
The lack of air in his chest burned him to inhale as the stress and fear of the water slowly became calm. He didn't even notice when his body stopped fighting against the water. Stopped struggling to breach the surface.
He didn't think about anything other than the weightless feeling in his muscles. The way his body gently swayed along to the current as he gave the water all the control. His mind finally free of all his troubles as the river swept them away.
Bucky looked up through the thick ice at the hint of light above him as he let the weight of his bag slowly drag him further and further down. It got darker and darker as the water sang its own lullaby onto his body, sending him to sleep, floating down blissfully, he closed his eyes.
His life had been hard with the war and hydra. If he'd known it would be this peaceful, he would've trudged into the water long ago. The burning feeling eventually gives way to a sense of security, the security he longed for all those years as an experiment.
But he would have had so many opportunities for it. He probably had to fight for his life on multiple occasions, so why did he fight so hard if he was unhappy? What kept him going when they tortured him and made him kill?
Bucky's eyes flung open to darkness as a blurry image appeared in his head of a small blonde boy under a crappy blanket fort. His eyes shone bright as he sat inside, patting an empty cushion next to him for someone to join. It was only two wooden chairs with a threadbare sheet thrown over the top. But the small boy, so skinny and frail, beamed in his creation.
"Come on, Buck, come in!" The laughing voice of the small boy echoed in Bucky's ears.
The image of the boy faded into something else. He could now see a large blonde man walking up a path on a beautiful summer day. The light reflected his hair, and looked as if he were wearing a halo atop his perfect head. The man pointed towards some ducks sitting next to a pond and ran towards them. They flew as he approached and surrounded him as he laughed, head flung back and arms outstretched as if he would fly up with them. His perfect angel. Steve.
Bucky willed his limbs to move. It was so cold he didn't even know if they were moving, but he thought he was getting closer to the light above him. How the hell could he forget about Steve? How could he be so selfish?
He stuck with it, eighty years of torture as someone's lab project because of Steve. He wanted to get back to Steve, and anything was worth it if he got to him in the end.
His movements were slow, and he thought he might have passed out for a second when his head hit into the hard surface above him. He went to grab it, but just like before, the water pushed him around, never staying in one place long enough to do anything.
His sight had almost left him now, overcome by the black blotches, his body only faintly aware it was still clinging to consciousness.
He saw Steve again, looking into his eyes in the cave, face barely an inch away from his. His eyes looked intently into his before glancing down at his lips. The way Steve's body felt against his as they slept closely in that sleeping bag. The warmth the other radiated.
Bucky relied on the faint feeling against his fingertips as he let his metal arm drop down before bringing it back up with everything in him and pushing through the thick layer of ice above. He couldn't feel the air on the other side but knew it had worked as the current could no longer drag him away, anchored to this one spot.
He nearly let the sleep take him again but held on. He shoved his whole metal arm through the gap and tugged down until it gave way. A large hole appeared above him and his grip nearly slid off the edge before he caught it at the last second.
With no idea if the hole was big enough or not, he had to try push himself through it, he had no more strength to try again.
One hand gripping either side of the cold slippy surface, he pulled until his head emerged into the bitter air. A large choking gasp came from him as he dragged the rest of his soaked body into the painful wind. He clawed at the ice until he felt the snow and heaved himself onto it, breathing harshly and choking on his back. So out of it, he took a few moments to roll himself over, throwing up mouthful after mouthful of cold water. His lungs screamed as the intrusive, icy oxygen filled his lungs once again. The tears began falling from his eyes as the adrenaline wore off and fear once again took its pace.
He sobbed and choked as water continued to come up, burning his lungs with too little air, but any that did make its way in burned all the same.
He cried and shivered as the last of it came up. His hands grasped at anything they could, the raw air cutting through with each gust of wind until he was barely conscious, unable to process this reality.
Flashes of a killer swept through his mind. Innocent people murdered just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Loved ones crying out for them as he moved on to his mission. Bucky raised a gun and pulled the trigger. The body hitting the floor with a thud.
He gasped as the cold snow froze the already bitter water that had seeped into his clothes. Despite the awful weather, the sky still seemed so happy. Shining its sun down pointlessly on the unrelenting forces on the land.
He was in the chair again, mind jumbled and confused as men with guns surrounded him. Confusion basking his brain, hiding the truth he knew nothing about, yet miraculously knew was in there somewhere. He was so close to it this time, so close to remembering. When they leant him back, and he forgot all over again as the pain consumed him.
He woke up again on the embankment screaming until he realised he wasn't back there. He sobbed as the snow, water, and wind worked together to slowly and torturously freeze him as he lay there, doing nothing.
He couldn't move as the images never relented in filling his mind and disorientating the past from his present. He was too cold. He needed Steve.
Rolling onto his front, he did the same thing as earlier. One foot underneath, followed by the other, and pushing up onto his feet. Bucky thought he was floating as his brain received no signals from the nerves in his feet as they sensed nothing. Completely numb, he stumbled forward into a tree, holding himself up as he tripped into the next one. He just focused from one tree to the next, getting closer and closer to his Stevie.