The world didn't know about the Winter Soldier. He was a legend, a myth, a ghost story. The intelligence community had heard rumors, whispers of a deadly assassin who never missed his mark, never failed his mission. 100% accuracy wasn't unheard of, Clint Barton made sure of that. But to never fail a mission, to never stray from protocol? That seemed far-fetched, even for skilled professionals. Then again, you can't always be perfect. And on one breezy April day, the Winter Soldier wasn't.
******
His mark was a Polish arms dealer. Well, an illegal arms dealer. Whatever, the Asset was tired of reading through the cases his handlers gave him. Assassinate this guy, destroy this diplomat's career, blah blah blah. All in all, his missions as of late were getting pretty boring. He missed the action, the high-speed chases, the thrill coursing through his veins, the adrenaline pumping through his blood. Assassinations were boring, you just shoot the guy and leave. The Asset wanted to work for his kill.
He huffed as he set up his sniper rifle, laying down on the roof's edge and staring his mark down through the scope. Damn that's a nice suit, he thought. Really don't wanna hafta put a bullet hole in it. A clear path to the mark opened up and the Asset readied his shot. Steady your arm, deep calming breath, in through your nose, out through your mouth, aaaaand, sunglasses.....
Sunglasses?
The Asset looked up from his scope, then back down through the lens. Standing before him was Tony Stark in sunglasses with a champagne flute in one hand and his iron hand in the other. He smiled, raised his glass, and gave the Asset a wave with the iron hand.
The Asset swore, quickly disassembling his weapon and leaping down from the rooftop. When he landed, he was met with a beautiful redhead, a smirk painting her lips.
"Hey there," she cooed. Giving him no time to react, she dropped low and swept his feet out from underneath him. The Asset fell onto his back and rolled to the left, dodging an electric shock from the woman's batons. He recognized the woman's quickness and aggression from his own fighting style.
"Russian trained?" The Asset grunted. "You're a Black Widow?"
"The Black Widow. And do I have a fan?" she smirked, aiming a kick at his head. He swiftly ducked, turning and throwing a punch to her gut which she caught. They danced like this for a bit, never exposing themselves to each other long enough to get a hit in. The Asset smiled. I haven't sparred like this in so long.
"As much fun as I'm having," the Black Widow breathed, dodging a kick and sliding under the Asset. "Can we proceed with the mission please?"
"Maybe it's more fun for me to watch you move. You make fighting look sexy."
The Asset looked up, searching where the voice came from but finding no one.
"CLINT!" The Black Widow screamed, catching the Asset off guard and catching him in the side with her Widow's Bite.
"Yeah, okay, I hear ya," the voice said again.
The Asset kicked the Black Widow off, stumbling from the electric shock. He was only able to make it a few yards before he was hit in the right shoulder. He stumbled, glancing at it and finding an arrow sticking out of it.
"Shit," he said, yanking it out and throwing it down. He continued running, but his vision started swimming. His legs slowed down until it felt like they weren't moving at all, then suddenly he hit the pavement. He tried crawling, but his arms stopped working after only making it a few feet.
"What the hell did you do to me?" The Asset growled as the Black Widow and a guy dressed in purple holding a bow walked up.
The guy pulled out an arrow from his quiver. "Tranquilizer arrow, my friend! Pretty nifty right?"
"Erm gerna crck ye skul op-" the Asset's tongue gave out before he could even finish his sentence.
"What's that tough guy, couldn't hear ya under your weird half mask." The guy snickers. "Who the hell designs a mask to cover the bottom half of someone's face. I'm tellin' ya Nat, the world is full of idiots."
"Imagine what a joy it is being married to one," the Black Widow deadpans. She reaches down to pull off the Asset's masks.
"No," she breathes. She looks at the guy, then back at the Asset. "Isn't that... It can't be-"
"Oh fuck," the guy says, dropping his bow.
That's the last thing the Asset hears before passing out.
******
He wakes up in a cell. He's laying in a cot, clear glass walls surrounding him. There's a chair outside of the walls and a steel door keeping him away from the rest of the world. No windows, no objects, no means of escape. Ah hell, who cares. Wouldn't have anywhere to escape to anyway, he thought.
Suddenly, the steel door opens and the Black Widow step in looking significantly less deadly in a tank top and sweatpants, her feet bare.
She looks at him, her face pale and grim.
"Well you look a lot less playful than the last time I saw you," the Asset says.
"I didn't know who you were then. I didn't know it was going to be like this," she says, her voice tight.
"Like what, Widow?"
"Natasha," she snaps. Their eyes meet and she swallows. "Call me Natasha," she says, softly.
"Okay. Natasha. I would introduce myself, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be called." He glances at down at his intertwined fingers, metal and flesh.
"Your handlers, they never told you your name?" she asks, sitting down in the chair.
"Of course not. When did you ever know Russian handlers to be so kind?"
Natasha laughs at that. "I know your name," she begins slowly. "Would you like me to tell you?" She looks at him solemnly, like she knows a lot of other things that he doesn't, like they would hurt him.
"I know a name," the Asset starts. He looks away from her. "I don't think it's mine, but I do know a name."
He glances up and sees Natasha staring at him intently, waiting for him to go on.
"I know I didn't choose to be this," he whispers. He looks down at his left arm. "I know I had two flesh arms. Then one day, I remember waking up with a flesh one and a metal one. I remember screaming. I remember lying in blood-soaked snow. But I don't know how I got from there to here. I don't know how I went from two arms to one arm and a weapon." He spits the last word out, then takes a deep breath.
"I know that they made me like this. They took everything that I used to be, everything that I used to know and filled me poison. Instead of knowing my name, I know 30 different languages. Instead of knowing my birthday, I know how long it takes for every single bone in my body to heal. I don't know how long I've been alive, but I know how many people I've killed, how many families I've ripped apart, how many lives I've destroyed."
"That wasn't you," Natasha snaps. The Asset looks up, but she isn't angry. "They used you. You were just their pawn."
The Asset swallows. "I know that they took my memories. And I remember that they kept taking them and taking them, making sure that I was wiped completely. A clean slate." He let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. "But they didn't."
"What do you mean?" Natasha asked.
The Asset stares at the floor. "They took everything from me. Everything that I know about myself is gone. But there was one thing that never left me... A name... Just one. I don't know who it belongs to. I can't remember their face or who they are or why they're so damn important to me. I can only remember this name. And I've clung to it for as long as I've been their prisoner. Every time they wipe me or torture me, I scream this name in my head over and over so I never forget it."
It's quiet for a long time. Natasha finally speaks up.
"What is it? What's the name?"
The Asset takes a deep breath, counts for ten seconds, then lets it out.
"Steve... The name was Steve."
He hears a gasp and snaps his head up. Natasha's eyes are glossy, like she's holding back tears. She looks down, swallows, then looks back up. Her face is neutral and they stare at each other for a few seconds until they hear a bang in another room.
The Asset jumps up, getting into a fighting stance. Natasha gets out of the chair as shouting ensues. They can hear two voices shouting, both coming down the hall.
"What's hap-"
"Stay here. I'll find out." Natasha leaves and slams the door.
"As if I have anywhere else to go," the Asset sighs, plopping back down onto the bed.
******
"Steve... The name was Steve."
Steve's head snaps up at Bucky's admission. He stares at the monitor, watching Bucky, waiting for him to say anything else.
"He remembers me," Steve says, getting up from his chair, his eyes never leaving the screen.
"Cap, wait," Tony says.
"He remembers me," Steve says again, walking towards the door.
"Steve, hold on a second," Tony says as he grabs Steve's arm. Steve wrenches his arm free and yanks the door open, speed-walking towards Bucky's cell.
"Cap. Cap! Dammit, Steve." Tony jogs to catch up with Steve. "You can't go in there."
"And why the hell not?" Steve growls.
"It's not safe, we don't know anything about him-"
"HE REMEMBERS ME!" Steve yells, turning towards Tony.
Tony glares back. "No, he doesn't Steve! He doesn't remember you, he remembers your name."
Steve slowly starts to deflate as he processes what Tony's said. "I know you want it to mean the same thing, but it doesn't, I'm sorry. If you go in there right now, who knows what will happen. Just- fuck." Tony runs a hand through his hair and takes off his sunglasses, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Just... just give it time, big guy."
"Yeah... yeah, okay," Steve says as he leans against the wall.
Natasha comes out of Bucky's cell. "So you heard."
"What do I do?" Steve asks. "You wait. Give him a few days."
Steve does just that. In fact, he gives him five days, each second more agonizing than the last. Bucky's progressing pretty well. He's eating as much as he wants and hasn't been hostile towards anyone. He has nightmares and screams in his sleep, but he hasn't tried to hurt anyone. Natasha, Clint, and Tony think it's safe for Steve to finally try talking to Bucky, which is how Steve finds himself taking deep breaths outside of Bucky's cell door.
"You got it, Cap," Clint says, patting him on the back.
"Thanks, Barton," Steve says, giving him a nervous grin. He takes one more deep breath and opens the door.
When he walks in, Bucky's staring at the ceiling. He glances over, then straightens up when he sees it's someone he hasn't met before.
Steve sits down in the chair, his eyes never leaving Bucky. "Hello."
Bucky's eyes lock onto his. He squints his eyes like he's searching for something. Recognition passes across his face as the realization hits.
"Steve," he breathes out. It happens all too quickly. As soon as the name leaves his lips, Bucky falls to his knees and clutches his head, screaming in pain. Steve bolts from the chair, sprinting to the glass walls and banging his fists on them.
"Bucky! Bucky, are you okay? Open the cell, someone open this fucking cell!" Steve continues to bang on the walls as Bucky shakes and screams. His cries die down after about two minutes and his shaking is reduced to shudders. When he's finally recovered, he rolls onto his side and climbs back onto the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and looks up at Steve.
"Steve," Bucky whispers.
"Yes, Buck, it's me," Steve gets out desperately.
"I remember you," Bucky croaks out. "All of it, I remember you."
Steve's eyes widen and he slides down to the floor, hands still on the glass. "What do you-- I don't understand."
"I don't either. I just- You came in here and I heard your voice and it all hit me. Everything. I remember you." Bucky searches Steve's eyes and finds tears rolling down Steve's cheeks.
"Buck, I-"
"That name. Buck. Is that mine?" he asks, a hitch in his voice.
"Yeah, Buck, it's yours," Steve says sniffling. "James Buchanan Barnes, but you liked to be called Bucky."
"Bucky," he tries out. "That's a stupid name. Christ, what was I thinkin'?"
A laugh bubbles out of Steve. "Idunno, pal." It's quiet for a moment. Steve cautiously looks up and puts his hand on the glass. "We're gonna be alright, Bucky. It's gonna take us a while to get there, but we'll be alright someday."
Bucky slips down onto the floor and puts his left hand on the glass so his fingers match Steve's. "I got nowhere better to be. Besides...I'm with ya til the end of the line, pal."