This can’t be happening. I can’t be back here. How? How did they capture me again? Bucky’s eyes scanned the cell he was trapped in. His wrists were bound with metal chains. He felt weak, they’d probably drugged him. He felt like he was suffocating. This can’t be happening.
“Welcome back, soldier.” An agent spoke in Russian from the shadows. Bucky didn’t dare open his mouth, but he wanted to scream and cry. His stomach churned. “Quiet today, are we? I can change that.” The agent crossed the room in a series of quick, clipped strides and opened the cell door. He grabbed Bucky by the hair, pulling him upright. Bucky bit his lip against the pain. He knew it was about to get so much worse. The agent dragged him across the room and laid him out on a wooden table where another agent was waiting. Splinters poked at his back and he tried to fight back as the men strapped him down but he was far too weak. Whatever drug they’d used rendered his limbs nearly useless. They tore his clothes off, leaving him in just his boxers. Bucky knew what was coming and tried to steal his mind, but tears escaped. “Awe, don’t cry. You’re back where you belong. You’re home.”
Screw it, they’re going to torture you anyway. “This will never be my home, you filthy bastard.” Bucky made sure to speak Russian so nothing was lost in translation. He wanted these agents to know that he hated them with every fiber of his being. “When I escape again, I will rearrange your bones into a sculpture for my desk.”
The first agent grabbed his face tightly and spit in it while the other brandished a knife. He pressed the tip into the skin of Bucky’s stomach. He writhed in pain. Then, as slowly as possible, the agents carved “HYDRA” into his flesh, branding the Winter Soldier as theirs.
~~~
When Steve woke up suddenly, sitting bolt upright in bed, he assumed he must’ve been having a nightmare.
Captain Rogers, are you alert now?
“Yeah,” he wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, FRI, what’s up? We got a mission?”
Sergeant Barnes is in significant distress. He appears to be experiencing a severe night terror.
Steve was already halfway down the hall by the time FRIDAY finished. He burst into Bucky’s room to find him still asleep, but nowhere close to resting. Bucky’s eyes were wide and unfocused as he thrashed in his bed. His skin was flushed and slick with sweat. And the screams. God, Steve had never heard such devastating sounds of agony.
Steve immediately got into the bed next to Bucky and tried to stop him from hurting himself as he fought violently against invisible restraints. Steve’s hands on him only made him panic more though. His breathing became rapid and his screams were replaced by strangled cries. Then he started mumbling in Russian.
“FRIDAY translate,” Steve barked at the ceiling. He had let go of Bucky’s arms and was petting his hair to try and soothe him.
Please. Please, don’t hurt me anymore. Just let me go.
Steve was at a loss for what to do. He wished he could take Bucky’s pain away, but right now he just needed to wake him up.
“Bucky. I need you to wake up. This isn’t real. You’re having a nightmare.” Bucky continued to beg in Russian. “Buck, please. You need to snap out of it. You’re safe. I’m here with you. You’re going to be okay, but you have to wake up.” Steve tried to coax him out of his nightmare for five unsuccessful minutes before calling in reinforcement. Natasha and Bruce came running in less than a minute later.
“Talk to me,” Bruce said, eyes rapidly scanned the situation.
“I can’t wake him.” Steve was crying now. “I don’t even know that he can understand me. He’s only spoken in Russian.”
“What did he say?” FRIDAY played back the audio.
“Fuck,” Natasha muttered.
“What? What do we do?” Steve grabbed her arm desperately.
“I think he’s having a flashback, not just a nightmare. I know how to get him quiet, but I don’t want to do it.”
“He can’t keep going like this! Do it,” Steve demanded.
Natasha took a deep breath. “Silence, soldier. Comply,” she barked harshly in Russian. Instantly Bucky fell silent and became stone still. After a painful minute of quiet, occupied by everyone’s slowing breaths, Natasha spoke again, still in Russian, but softer this time. “Hey, James. Can you follow my voice? You’re safe. You need to wake up now, okay? No one here is going to hurt you.” She kept her distance, not wanting to scare him.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, but his mind wasn’t fully present. He looked up, saw Steve and Bruce standing over him, and panicked. The men. They’re going to hurt you. This can’t be happening. Bucky scrambled backward on the bed and started hyperventilating. “Bad men. Bad men,” he mumbled repeatedly.
“Shit,” Nat swore. “Okay, you two gotta leave. Now.”
“Why?” Bruce asked. “Nat, what did he say?”
“He thinks you’re here to hurt him. He’s saying “bad men,” because his captors and torturers were men. He’s afraid of you. Give him some space.”
“But we’re not-”
“Steve, listen to her.” Bruce pulled Steve off the bed and they both left the room, leaving the door slightly open so he wouldn’t feel trapped. His eyes watched them the whole time.
Natasha approached slowly, hands up in a peaceful gesture. She spoke softly in Russian. “Hey, James. You’re safe now.” He eyed her skeptically. “Do you know who I am?”
He hesitated for a moment then nodded. “You’re a Widow.”
“Good. That’s right. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Slowly it became more clear to Bucky and he became reassociated with reality. His eyes welled with fresh tears. “I know.” His voice broke. “Your name is Natasha.”
“Yes, I’m Natasha. I’m a friend. Can I hold your hand? Would that be okay?” Still a little hesitant, he nodded again. He flinched when she grabbed his hand, but soon found himself relaxing slightly into a familiar sense of comfort.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in Russian, and then he let go of his emotions. He threw himself at Natasha in a desperate hug. She held him close to her chest, stroking his hair and offering reassurances as he cried.
After a few minutes, Natasha switched to English. “Can you tell me who you are and where we are?”
He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I am at the Avenger’s Compound. I am safe. No one is here to hurt me.” He recited it almost like a recording.
“Good. You’re doing great. Do you remember what happened?”
“I thought they’d captured me again. They were torturing me. They-” His eyes widened and he frantically pulled up the hem of his sweatshirt to look at his stomach. When he saw nothing there he dropped the sweatshirt with a frustrated sob. “It wasn’t real.”
“No, it wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t terrifying. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I need Steve.”
“FRIDAY?”
He has been alerted.
Ten seconds later, Steve rushed into the room. “Buck,” he said breathlessly. His eyes were still red-rimmed from crying and he was fighting back new tears. Steve climbed into the bed and embraced his best friend tightly. Bucky was rigid at first but soon melted into the warmth and safety of his arms. Natasha left the room quietly to update Bruce while Steve took over comforting Bucky.
“What do you need, Bucky? What can I do?”
“Just hold me. Please.”
“Of course, Buck. Whatever you need.”
“I’m so tired.”
“Then rest,” Steve laid them both back, with Bucky’s head on his chest. “I’ll be right here.”