Chapter 1
Then
“Obey, soldier!”
Bucky was curled on the floor. The man above him was kicking him, steel toed boots shattering ribs, piercing organs, rupturing blood vessels. He knew he was going to die. He could feel it. And the worst part was, death seemed like a happy ending to him right now. At least when he died, he wouldn’t be in pain anymore. He just wished the bastard would hurry up and finish it.
The man dragged Bucky to his feet. A hand held him by the neck, cutting off his breath. He was too weak to fight this. Too fucking weak.
“You are garbage. You are useless.” The man spat on his face. “You call yourself a soldier. Look at you now.” The glove tightened on Bucky’s neck. “After I’m done with you, I’m gonna find your little friend Steve. And he won’t have it as easy as you.”
The mention of Steve brought Bucky back to himself. He struggled against the gloved hand, choking and gasping. “Leave him out of this,” he said. “It’s me you want. Just kill me and get it over with.”
“Wrong,” said the man. “I don’t want to kill you. I want to make you feel pain. And I can’t think of anything more painful than you watching your best friend get torn to pieces. And it will all be your fault.”
Bucky grunted and jerked, trying to wrestle himself free. Even in his current state - drugged, tortured, half dead - he would never let them get to Steve. He couldn’t let them. He wouldn’t.
Using the last bit of strength he could muster, he tore his arm free from the restraints that bound him. He punched the man in the diaphragm, hard. It felt good to hear the man’s sharp intake of breath, hear him wheeze. It felt good to make him suffer. Maybe I am a monster after all, Bucky thought.
Soldiers ran into the room. Somewhere, an alarm started blaring. Bucky started to laugh, feeling delirious. “If you want Steve, you’ll have to go through me,” he said.
The man had regained his breath. More soldiers ran in, flanking the man on either side, their guns trained on Bucky. The man gestured at one of them, and took a rifle from his hands.
He came and stood over Bucky. “Going through you won’t be a problem, soldier.” He lifted the butt of the rifle and slammed it into Bucky’s temple. Bucky felt unconsciousness embrace him. His anger faded along with his thoughts, and his vision, until everything was black.
Now
Bucky awoke with a startled yell. He was drenched in sweat. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. Or when it was. He tried the technique the doctor had shown him to reorient himself in reality. Something he could see. A table. Something he could feel. The scratchy blanket. Something he could touch - the glass of water on the nightstand. He took a sip. He knew where he was now. He was safe. In his apartment. It had been many years since he’d been tortured like that. It was over, and Steve…
He let out a rattly breath.
Steve was gone. And Bucky was alone.