The Handler

“Leave me alone

I must disassociate from you 

I won't let you control my feelings anymore

And I will no longer do as I am told

And I am no longer afraid to walk alone

Let me go”-

Muse, The Handler 

With one fluid movement, Bucky launched himself at Zemo's throat, a snarl on his face and his fingers curled into claws. While Sam himself had wanted to do that many times this past week, they still needed him. He yanked on the back of Bucky's jacket in a futile effort, the strong super soldier's momentum propelling him into his back as he flexed his metal fingers around Zemo's throat.

"Bucky stop!" Sam yelled, trying to pull the man back.

The order seemed to sink through his murderous fog as the assassin jerked his head to the side again in a worrying motion.

"Sorry!" He gasped, taking in gulping breaths. "I am sorry, Sir!"

The Winter Soldier let himself be pulled back by Sam while Zemo stared at him in barely suppressed terror.

Bucky slowly lowered himself on the floor in a kneeling position, his head turned downwards. If he still had long hair, it would be covering his scarily blank eyes.

"Hey, man, talk to me," Sam kneeled down in front of Bucky and gently put a hand on his flesh shoulder.

The other man looked at his hand in shock before mumbling. "The asset malfunctioned. It will not happen again and it accepts any form of punishment."

While rubbing his neck, Zemo opened his mouth and was shut down by one look from Sam.

He was not gonna mess this up.

"Buck, it's okay," he said slowly and with a wavering voice. His hands shook as lifted Barnes' head up with his hands. The kneeling man's face was completely blank, except for his wide eyes. Sam was sure that if the man had been with HYDRA he'd have one hell of a punishment, the mere thought of what he had been through was turning his stomach. 

Zemo leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Sam, I don't think he needs a friend right now...I think he needs a handler."

Bucky shuddered at the word "Handler" and looked up through his eyelashes at the other two men.

Sam shot him a shocked look and gulped, fear lodging itself in his throat like a stone. As much as he hated it, Zemo was right. Treating Bucky like Bucky has not worked out yet, but treating him like the Soldier has. 

Fuck, Sam thought, this is gonna be hard. He is going to hate me afterward.

"Soldier?" Sam took his hands off of Bucky and his heart shattered when he saw the other man chase after the touch.

That man is most definitely touch starved, Sam thought with a wince. Too bad I can't give him that right now. Afterward, Sam promised himself, we will talk things out and maybe I can help.

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. "I need you to pull yourself together. I am going to call our informant, Torres, and find out what Kari had to do with Donya Madani and why she needed Nagel's help so badly. Does this make sense?"

The soldier was leaning forward as much as he could on his knees, hanging on to every word as if it was God's.

The amount of complete control that these guys had over him is disgusting.

He nodded slowly, tongue swiping out to wet his lips.

"We need a verbal confirmation, Soldier," Zemo spoke up.

"Da-yes. I mean yes," he gasped while his bottom lip trembled.

"Good," the Sokovian man stood up, a glass of champagne appearing in his hand before he patted Sam on the soldier. "I am going to tidy up in the facilities. I trust you're safe with him." With that, he walked away.

Sam could already feel a migraine coming on.

"Soldier, I need you to stand up, please."

Barnes shakily got up to his feet, his hands behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart.

"Okay you can sit in that chair," he nodded towards the chair Bucky had previously been in. "And I am going to call Torres and get some info on Donya. Okay?"

Barnes answered him with a curt nod.

"Good, you can uh try to sleep if you want to." Sam tried to mentally push Bucky, if outright telling him that they were not HYDRA was too much for him, maybe giving subtle hints would tip him off into thinking they're not HYDRA.

"Want to?" Bucky parroted back with a frown on his face. Sam had just sat down and opened his phone before he replied.

"Yeah, you know? Want to? Like doing things you like." The conversation was already crushing Sam. Why did Steve have to leave him, damnit? Why did he leave either of us? No, now was not the time for that.

Bucky seemed to understand the word "like" well enough and shook his head slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "No, the asset doesn't like things. It isn't allowed to like."

"Hey," the word tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it and he desperately wished he could take it back. "Uhm...you can call yourself he or him. Or whatever you identify as...HYDRA uhm..."

Nice fucking going, Sam.

"You are doing perfectly fine, Asset." Zemo arrived from the bathroom, looking somewhat more put together than he had been. "Sam is a new Handler, he doesn't quite understand how you work yet."

Bucky tilted his head, his pout still in place.

Who allowed the damn Winter Soldier to have such a cute pouting face?

"Okay," he agreed easily. "I will go to sleep now. Because I like to?"

The statement brought the first real smile to Sam's face days and he nodded with a small laugh. "Yeah, Buc-Soldier you can go to sleep now. Because you like to."

Barron regarded him strangely before settling into his own seat, book, and drink in hand. Sam sighed, his shoulders feeling weak from all the weight they were carrying.

Not done yet, he chided himself. With a small sigh, he dialed Torres's number and prepared himself for an enthusiastic conversation.

The Asset drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the sleep that has gotten it through those times. It idly wondered where HYDRA was, where its handlers were, but it couldn't find it in itself to complain.

Or himself? Handler Sam had said he could identify as whoever he wanted to identify as...

But that does not make sense! Just like everything else that was happening. 

 He has made numerous mistakes already and both handlers have brushed it off. The thought made him shudder against the plane window, a soft whine being trapped in his throat.

Why was he like this? He is usually never like this unless-

"Wipe!" He gasped, eyes flying open. 

Both of his handlers startled at his sudden movements, but he couldn't bring himself to be nervous about his punishment. Everything finally made sense to him. He needed to be wiped!

"Soldat?" The annoying, shorter one asked him.

I wish I had chocked him when I had gotten the chance, he thought before surprising himself. He did not have wishes, but then again...he was not a he either. Was he?

"Buddy?" His primary Handler asked, a crease forming on his forehead. 

Buddy? That does not feel right, it feels...

His Handler asked him another question and frowned harder when he didn't answer. 

 No, that was not okay. My Handler couldn't be upset, he had to be satisfied...happy. 

"The Asset...I need-needs to be wiped," he rushed out. 

Both of his Handlers looked at each other with twin frowns on their faces and he almost wanted to throttle them both.

No, no, no damage to Handlers. That is bad, bad, wrong can't-

"We are not going to wipe you, Soldat," the one with the accent said slowly. 

He almost wanted to bear teeth at the man, an unfamiliar rage roaring deep in his chest. Why wasn't he taking his great idea? The wipes would help with his malfunctions and if there are no malfunctions then his Primary Handler would be happy. It was perfect. 

"If you wipe me, then I will have fewer malfunctions. If I have fewer malfunctions, then I will be a better Asset." He said all of this slowly, as if he was the Handler and they were the Assets.

The thought brought a hysterical laugh to his throat and he tossed his head to prevent it from escaping. 

"We don't have the equipment for that, man, and we would never do that to you that...that's torture."

He felt frustration bubble up in his chest before he squashed it with a small sigh through his nose. He wasn't allowed to feel frustration. The scariest part about it though, was that it seemed eerily familiar, but he would never be frustrated at his Handlers?  

"But-" 

"Bucky, enough!" Handler Sam snapped while slamming his hand down on the armrests of the plane seat. 

He flinched inwards on himself, his whole body trying to melt itself into the window as his brain computed the punishment that was surely going to happen after he messed everything up. As always. 

Stupid, stupid Asset. You cannot even make the nicest Handler happy. You're broken, you're alone you, have no family- 

No, he wasn't supposed to have a family. Why would he think that? Why-

"Hey, man."

It is not man, it's pal, pal, pal- 

Pal makes sense, pal makes sense- 

But no, no, no more pal. My pal is gone, my pal left me, he left me and-

"Soldat!" 

"Don't-" 

Don't call me that, but why? That is my name, that is who I am. That is too much of who I am, but also not enough. 

Not enough.

(hours earlier)

His head rung after the explosion, the red lights flashing through his eyelids and through his whole head. Zemo stumbles out of the lab, causing him to growl lowly.

  That damn bastard cannot leave, he still is useful and we need-

"Солдат, побег со всем, что у вас есть. Встретимся в вашем настоящем доме в Москве." 

> Translate 

("Soldier, escape with everything you have. Meet me at your real home in Moscow.")

Then two men had arrived (and he had seen them before hasn't he?) and he had taken them both out. One of them was thrown by his chin into the metal container that had held him (gapped tooth smile and sharp mind) and the other (blonde hair and blue eyes and that same big nose) was pushed through and down, down, down the elevator shaft. 

What if he didn't survive the fall like I didn't- 

"Солдат!" 

> Translate

("Soldier!")

The canisters of the lab were about to blow and he needed to leave. The needles and metallic medical smell made him dizzy with fear as he escaped the lab. He knew there were two other lifeforms left in the lab, a man and a woman. Not including the man he had seen escape. 


Mission paremeters? 

> Escape

Mission accepted: 

> Further actions necessary

Sub-mission paremeters: 

> Get weapon

> Return to Handlers 

Query:

Handlers on mission?

Answer:

"- that cyborg brain of yours-" 

"Never see each other again-" 

"-with the staring thing again, Soldat?" 

"I have a plan, Soldat." 

"Солдат, смотри Земо." 

> Translate 

(“Soldier, watch Zemo”) 

Conclusion: 

> Computing... 

..

...

..

.

-Sam Wilson, target, Primary Handler, target, Primary Handler, tar-

Conclusion Summary: 

Indecisive