Chapter 7
"Hello? Buck, you in there?"
Steve had been outside his door for 25 minutes now, and despite still being deliriously happy after their date, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Leaning against the door, he jolted in surprise when it opened... why would he leave his door open? So Steve turned the door knob and let himself into Bucky's apartment.
It was a mess, nothing like the relatively tidy home he'd seen last time. Couch cushions were sprawled everywhere, the coffee table was turned on it's side, dishes from the kitchen were broken; cracked. And on the wall in front of him, liquid crimson splattered and painted it's once pure white canvas, and Steve's stomach twisted in realisation.
Blood.
***
"Ah good, you're awake."
Bucky groaned. His entire body felt like it was on fire, agony searing his skin.
"I do apologize for the way we've brought you in, but precautions must be taken."
Bucky gradually opened his eyes and hissed at the friction of rough rope tying his wrists. His body shivered in the cool air, he wore nothing but black sweatpants, and his face curled up in disgust just thinking about someone changing him.
"What?" The voice taunted. "Nothing to say?"
Loud footsteps boomed towards him, and he stiffened at the sound.
"It seems", he drawled. "That the Captain has taken quite a liking to you, all I need to know is how much of a liking."
If Bucky remembered anything from the Hydra bust-in almost a year ago, it was that Alexander Pierce was obnoxious, infuriating and absolutely adored the sound of his own voice.
He laughed in disbelief. "I don't even know who you're talking about, perhaps you could explain?"
Pierce's smile grew. Perfect.
As the old man droned on Bucky quickly analysed his surroundings. It was a large room, cold concrete paved the floor. At the end of it was a massive metal door full of locks, dammit. The chair he was strapped in was of meduim size, with long legs and a sturdy base. But wooden, easily breakable. He smiled.
By the time Bucky formulated a plan, the old man was inches away from him.
-"only yesterday did you and the Captain visit a bar-"
Fast as he could, Bucky slammed the chair against Pierce with a brutal force, and a loud thump echoed as he landed on the floor. After untying the rope from his hands, he grabbed the gun from the old man's pocket; pressing the lump of cold metal against his temple. Bucky panted heavily, relief seeping into him.
Then the metal door burst open, and walking briskly towards him were two men dressed in black: one big, one bigger. Bucky tensed in paralyzing fear as they got closer and closer, and soon he felt rough callused hands hold him down, tying him to another chair. They were nothing like Steve's warm and gentle grip, sweet and loving-
"I don't usually resort to violence", Pierce said as he got up. "But I'm afraid we must, now that we know what you're capable of."
"You have no idea what I'm capable of", Bucky spat viciously.
Alexander's lips quirked up as if he said something funny.
"In the mean time, Rumlow and Rollins will keep you company. Have fun, boys." And Pierce sauntered out the room, the limp in his walk making Bucky smile in pride. Then the two men stared down at him, their smiles more like flashes of teeth. Like sharks.
The shorter of the two sighed. "You know, I actually feel bad for what we're gonna do to that pretty face of yours", proceeding to grab Bucky by the jaw, squeezing it tightly.
"So I'm going to give you choice", the man said. "You can either tell us everything you know about the Captain, or", he grabbed a metal pole. "We make you."
Bucky kept his face carefully passive. He wouldn't show them fear. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
"Well?" The taller of the two gruffed out.
Bucky stayed stubbornly quiet.
The shorter man grinned. "Rollins, I think he made his choice. Who are we to deny him what he wants?"
"No", the other man -Rollins- agreed. He happily brandished his own weapon of torture, and Bucky's stomache lurched at his next words.
"We'll give him exactly what he wants."
***
Even after battling aliens, Nazis and psychopathic terrorists, Steve has never felt this terrified.
He scoured every street, park, restaurant, cafe, but he couldn't find Bucky anywhere.
After arriving at the tower, he took a long shower, and sobbed.
It was awfully liberating, shedding tears, because it wasn't expected of him. Captain America was supposed to be a symbol to the nation, a hero to the world. But Steve Rogers was dejected and broken, and as soon as he thought he found he found his missing piece it was snatched away from him, a constant reminder he would never be happy, and why should he? He lived a life full of sacrifice, he never regretted taking the serum or the mantle that came with it. Steve should be used to feeling empty and hollow every day. But he wasn't, everyday he felt like that, every fucking day, but the pain never lessened, dulled or numbed. It was as sharp and painful as the first time he was in this century. Bucky Barnes, the gorgeous brunette that made him realise life was worth more than fighting, was gone. Bucky Barnes, the man Steve selfishly dragged into his life, was gone.
He punched the wall, again and again and again. The rush of warm water washing the blood that stained his knuckles.
Steve had foolishly believed he could be with someone, that he could actually live a life instead of just existing. He laughed at the naivety of it all, what a joke.
Clumsily, he got down from the shower. He changed his clothes into something more comfortable and sat down in his living room. Just a few days ago he was on this exact same couch, blissful and contempt and happy for the first time in all his 4 years of living here. It didn't come as a shock when he realised he would probably never feel those emotions again.
He idly glanced at his phone, and in a few minutes it was ringing, Bucky's name plastered widely across his screen. He rapidly snatched it up, a hopeful and giddy smile on his face.
"Buck? Are you ok? Where are you?" He asked frantically.
"Sorry to disappoint Captain", a slimy and scratchy voice replied, nothing like the voice he'd quickly grown to love, nothing like Bucky.
Steve tensed, eyes hardening in quiet fury. "Where's Bucky?" He raised his voice in anger. "Where is he?"
The voice chuckled. "Oh, he's right here, Barnes is having a blast."
Screams of pain filled the call; Steve gripped the phone so tight he almost broke it.
"So, you're going to come to this address", the man gave it to him. "And surrender yourself, alone, no weapons. Or the next time you see pretty boy Barnes is with his dead body lying in a ditch."
The phone hung up.
Steve felt sick, his stomache gnawing at it's self. He knew that address, Hydra the bastards.
There was no way he was going to let that happen. No way in fucking hell.
And if that meant going alone, fighting hundreds, thousands of armed agents, then so be it.
Whatever it takes.