Winter's POV
I woke up to see that I was physically restrained in a metal and glass cell. My first thought was: they're afraid of me. I didn't blame them; I knew how dangerous I was capable of being, but right now I could barely keep my eyes open. Whatever they'd given me was strong enough that my serum couldn't completely fight it off.
I heard the safeties click off of several weapons as the large blond man from earlier approached me slowly, having noticed I was awake. I studied him through the haze the drug gave my vision; he had intense cobalt blue eyes set in a classically handsome face with a firm jaw. His short blond hair was mussed, like he'd run his fingers through it. He was heavily muscled and slightly taller than me. I was aware of other people around me, but the way my cell was designed made it so I couldn't see them.
"Bucky, it's me, Steve," he said in a pleasant baritone. "Do you remember me?"
I closed my eyes, not wanting to answer questions right now. My body ached and my head was pounding; I couldn't focus on what he was saying. The only time I knew I'd seen this man, I'd been fighting him; my orders were to stop the intruders.
"I'll take that as a no, then. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but I've always known you as Bucky."
I'd heard those names before; the woman my handler had called Evans had said them; she'd mostly called me James. I cracked my eyes open to glance at Steve, listening to what he was saying.
"You're from Brooklyn, New York, but we're currently going to Washington, DC."
I had nothing to say to that; those places meant nothing to me. He talked some more, but I didn't understand half of what he was saying. An unexpected brightness made me open my eyes again and I saw they were unloading my cell from the jet. I could see for miles from up here and I looked around the city, realizing I knew I'd been here before – wherever here was.
Ahead of me, two men were carrying a stretcher. A third man held up a bag of fluids to continue gravity feeding them into whoever was on the stretcher. They turned enough that I got a glimpse of a small, pale brunette woman in a dark suit laying very still and wearing an oxygen mask - the woman from earlier. Her eyes were open and her bruised, beat up face was turned to me. I could see her weakly lift her hand out to me, but a dark skinned man moved closer to her and took it in his own hand briefly before setting it back on the stretcher. I resented him for being in the way - I couldn't see her anymore.
"What happened to her?" I asked the smaller blond man next to my cell, making an effort to speak English as that was the language everyone was using. He looked at me briefly, studying my face intently before deciding to answer.
"We don't really know yet," he said brusquely.
"Who is she?" I asked. "I know her."
"Her name is Sarah Evans," the blond said. "She's your fiancé."
I looked at him sharply, but there was no trace of humor on his open face – only...sympathy? I had no recollection of asking a woman to marry me; I doubted that I would have been allowed to do so considering I wasn't even given a real name, just Soldier or Winter.
"You aren't yourself right now; you really don't remember any of us?"
"No. You seem familiar, but I know nothing about you."
"I'm Clint Barton," he said with a sigh. "We're taking you down for a scan and testing. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time you've lost your memory."
I fought to stay conscious as we entered an elevator and then exited it on an interior floor. Everything about this place seemed familiar and I wished I knew why. We stopped in a room that was clearly a lab of some sort, but there was none of the equipment I expected – no cryo chamber or wiping machine.
"Hello James. I'm Dr Bruce Banner," said a calm, dark-haired man in a white coat. He wasn't like the white coats I'd dealt with before - his dark brown eyes were kind. "I hear you've lost your memory again."
"Call me Bucky," I said, deciding that I liked the sound of that better than James.
"All right. Bucky it is. Do you promise not to attack me, Bucky?"
I considered that for a moment, already having sized him and the other man up as opponents. "As long as you do not attack me, yes."
"Fair enough. Clint, will you release Bucky's restraints?"
"Sure thing, Doc," the blond man said, hitting a couple buttons. My limbs were freed and then the front of the pod swiveled out of sight. I almost fell flat on my face, my body not responding properly. The blond caught me, setting me upright and swiftly removing his hands from me.
"Guess that drug's not completely out of your system yet. Sorry about that, but we needed to get you here without harming you any further."
"Can I have you walk over here, Jam-er-Bucky? We're going to see if you're injured and if so to what extent," the doctor said. He looked at me intently. "Are you able to walk?"
I still hadn't moved, but I determined I could walk, as long as I looked down and moved my feet carefully, not really having full control of my motor functions. After taking a couple steps, I was where he'd indicated; it cost me nothing to comply with his requests. A bright light surrounded me briefly before fading.
"Can you remove your shirt, Bucky? I can't scan through the armor in it," the doctor said in an even tone. "I forgot how much reinforcement they put in your armor."
I nodded, moving my hands up to clumsily undo the straps and zipper. I shrugged out of it, feeling a twinge in my side when I moved. The blond – Clint – I reminded myself, held out a hand for my shirt and I handed it to him. The weight must have been more than he anticipated because his arm fell significantly before he compensated for it.
"Forgot how heavy this damn thing is," Clint grunted, setting it aside. "This is worse than my suit's shirt for weight."
"Bucky's also quite a bit larger than you, Clint. More to cover," the doctor said absently, amusement in his tone.
"Yeah, yeah," Clint said, rolling his eyes. "He's as ripped as Steve, I know. Arms straight out, Bucky. God, it's weird calling you that. Last couple times you insisted on James and now you go and switch it up again."
"You talk a lot," I observed, holding my arms straight out so I could be scanned again. The light enveloped me and then faded.
"All done," the doctor said. "Results are on the screen behind you."
"What do the colors mean?" I asked, seeing my form overlaid with a variety of colors. A legend showed up near my feet on the screen. "Oh. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Looks like you have a couple broken ribs, a cracked jaw, a broken arm and a good amount of bruising. Were you in a fight?"
I shrugged. "My mission was to stop the intruders, which included a redheaded woman and a large blond man."
"Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers," Clint said, naming my opponents. "You're lucky it isn't worse. Hitting Cap is like hitting a brick wall."
"I would agree with that assessment," I said, looking down at my hand. The knuckles were split from punching him earlier.
The doctor's voice jolted me out of my thoughts. "Bucky, may I have a small sample of your blood? I need to know if Hydra injected you with anything and if so, what it was."
I frowned. "It is important, yes?"
"Yes. As always, it's your choice, but the sooner the better. Will you allow me to draw your blood?"
I nodded; his request was reasonable.
"Do you wish to remain standing freely, or do you wish to be restrained again so you don't harm anyone?"
I considered that for a moment. "This is something you always ask me, yes?"
"Yes. Things go better when I ask before every step. If you aren't comfortable, you sometimes want Steve or Sarah with you, but they aren't available at the moment, so I would have to use the cell's restraints. Clint isn't strong enough to be effective."
"I trust them with my safety or yours?" I asked, confused again. He didn't seem to be afraid of me, so I didn't understand why he was asking me this.
"Your safety. You can't hurt me, Bucky. Do you remember the Hulk?"
I shook my head, unsure what the doctor was talking about. "Is it a weapon you use to make me comply?"
The doctor rubbed his face before sharing a look with Clint.
"Everything we do here is by your choice, Bucky," Clint said. "We never force you to comply. You're our friend and teammate, we trust you to watch our backs on missions. Bruce only asks before drawing your blood because you really don't like needles and you sometimes react badly."
"Oh. You may draw my blood, doctor. I would prefer to stand."
"Thank you, Bucky. I don't need much this time. It you look away, it usually goes better."
I nodded, feeling the cold swipe of an antiseptic wipe on my skin and then a slight pinch. I tensed and my breathing accelerated in anticipation of one of the cocktails entering my system.
Clint snapped his fingers in front of my face, getting my attention. "Buck! Breathe slower for me, okay? In through your nose, hold it, out through your mouth." I did what he said, feeling the tightness in my chest relax. "Again, in through your nose, hold it, out through your mouth. Again."
I felt the needle slide from under my skin and then light pressure. "Hold this here for a moment until it stops bleeding," Bruce said, "All done, Bucky. You did great."
"How long will it take before you know the results?"
"A couple minutes. You can watch the screens if you like. You usually do," he said with a smile. "You like all of this science stuff - at least that's what you told me a while ago."
"I will, if you don't mind. It's amazing - this technology and how much you can do with it these days."
"Do you remember much of before the war?" Clint asked as Bruce walked away to another table with glass pieces on it and some machinery.
"No, I'm just getting general impressions right now," I said, looking around the cluttered lab. Every available surface was covered with equipment and papers. "Where are we?"
"Washington, DC. The Shield Triskelion. Any of that ring a bell?"
I nodded. "The woman told me to come here if I got out of Siberia."
Clint pulled something from his pocket and showed it to me. "This woman?"
It was a photograph of a beautiful, smiling woman with long, curly auburn hair and lovely golden brown eyes wearing a black skin-tight suit. "Yes," I said, tearing my eyes from her. "That's her."
"That's Sarah Evans, who you also might know as Peggy Carter."
"Peggy?" I said quietly, looking around. "Is she here?"
"Pay up, Clint," a familiar female voice said from behind me. "I told you."
Clint pulled his wallet from his pocket with a sigh, taking a green paper out before putting his wallet away. "Damn it, Tasha. How'd you know?"
I turned to look at her, and suddenly realized I knew her – very well. Clint slapped the paper in her hand, grumbling under his breath.
"<Natalia Alianova Romanova,>" I said, approaching her slowly. "<It has been a long time.>"
I reached out my human hand to touch her face lightly, my thumb brushing the soft skin of her cheek. She turned into the caress, pressing a kiss to my palm. I drew her close, claiming her lips with mine. She tasted as good as I remembered and I couldn't get enough of her. Her arms wound around my neck, pulling me closer.
After a sound came from the man beside me, I drew away slowly, holding her emerald eyes with my own. "<I don't care if they punish me for that, Natalia. It was worth it.>" She made a small noise, and I saw the tears in her eyes. "<What's wrong, my little red ballerina?>"
"<Oh James, they really messed with your mind this time, didn't they?>"
"<Why would you say that, darling?>"
"You haven't called me that since September in Kiev. Before that, it's been almost 65 years since you've used that endearment, James."