It was his hearing that came back first. The small noise of metal hitting together, the metal that they had used to make his arm years ago; heavy footsteps, and the faint sound of screams muffled by the blood covered walls. Then it was taste. The taste of copper that he had once grown to be familiar with. His sense of smell came flooding back. The room smelt strongly of blood with a faint smell of chemicals. Then he could feel, he could feel the cold metal table that he was laying against, he could feel the cold air brushing against his body. Bucky opened his eyes and he found that he was in an abandoned garage.
His heart rate pounding against his scarred chest. His confused bloodshot eyes looked around the room. Nothing was familiar, yet it all seemed like he had seen it before. Then the sound of footsteps got louder until the large metal door opened slightly revealed a large man with a crooked smile plastered on his face.
“Welcome back soldier” growled the man, walking towards him; “you will listen to me, if you do not comply you will be punished, do you understand me” Bucky nodded his head, but it felt different. He couldn’t control himself, it was as if he was a puppet, and someone else was in control of the strings.
“Soldier, your mission is to kill and I do not want you back until you have completed your mission, your target is Steven Rogers, take him out, don’t leave any witnesses and then return”
Two guards came out from behind him and started unfastening the tight straps around his body. “Here is your gun soldier” snorted the guard, Bucky looked up to see a large man hand him a gun. He took it and turned his head at the sound of garage doors opening. The open door allowed him to see the overgrown trees the building was surrounded by. Bucky stood up straight and it seemed as if he’d only blinked before he was standing in front of an old pitch black motorcycle. He jumped on and drove to the area that he was told he would find his target located at.
Bucky packed his helmet away in the compartment of the motorcycle and cocked his gun. His feel silently moving towards the back of the tree. His actions robotic as if someone else was controlling him. Bucky looked around the grassy park for his target, before he spotted him with his back against a tree, a small brown torn up notebook open in his hands, the pencil in his hand gripped loosely.
As Bucky scanned over the man he seemed familiar, the small smirk that was on his lips, the notebook- it’s familiar. Did he know him? What was his name- grant? No, s- bucky shook his head as he tore himself from his thoughts. Those weren’t real, they were dreams. His only focus in life was to kill, and that’s what he was going to do.
Bucky gripped the gun, his fingers turning stark white from the pressure. He raises his arms and points the gun at the target. He slowly inches closer so he can get a better shot. As he’s about to shoot a small crunch comes from under his shoe. A leaf.
Bucky swore under his breath, he was going to get punished. Bucky couldn’t stop his mind from worrying ‘imgoingtogetpunishedimgoingtogetpunished “Buck?”
Bucky snaps his head back up from the ground to look at the target. The voice seemed so familiar- no. He’s here to kill, he couldn’t let his thoughts get in the way now. Bucky drops his gun and runs towards the target. He wanted a fight. The mans eyes light up with recognition as he reaches his hand behind his back to grab a red, white and blue shield that had remained hidden behind his wide shoulders.
Bucky is at his targets throat in seconds. He grabs at the targets neck, ignoring the words he was struggling to say. “Buck, hey hey- it’s me, Steve, your friend remember me? I’m your friend” Bucky doesn’t loosen his grip until he receives an elbow to his face, causing him to stumble back. A look of panic flashes across Buckys face, he was sloppy. He would be punished for that.
Bucky reaches to his side and grabs the sharp knife he kept hidden in one of the many pockets of his uniform. The knife has a black handle thats easy to grip onto, the sharp blade of the knife stained a rusty color. The targets eyes light up with fear. Bucky charges at him, he knocks the shield out of his hands and pierces him in the chest just above his heart.
The man falls to the ground, Bucky's legs straddled his chest, still holding the handle of the knife in his hands. Bucky rips the knife out of the targets chest causing bright red blood to pour out of the wound. The mans teeth clenched together in pain, his eyes glossy.
The man under him starts talking, his breath coming out in short raspy gasps “Buck listen to me, if you’re- if you’re in there know that I- I don’t blame you okay? I’m not mad Buck- it’s okay please don’t- don’t lock yourself away again, don’t shut down, okay Buck? It’s okay. I- I don’t blame you okay?”
Bucky glares at the man under him confused. Why was he talking to him like they knew each other? Bucky looks at the man in the eyes one last time before he pushes up off the ground and starts to slowly walk away from the dying man. He was successful, his target, Rogers was going to die.
Bucky hears a small whistle come from Rogers as he tries to take a deep breath, then he hears the quiet shaky words coming from him. He wouldn’t have heard them if it had not been for his previous years with hydra “I'm with you until- until the end of the line ” The words seemed familiar, they caused Bucky to pause, but Bucky kept walking, his eyes straight ahead.
“I-I love you, Buck”
Bucky slumps to his knees, the wet grass soaking through his pants. Everything comes back to him leaving him physically weak. Hydra taking him in the middle of night while he was making a late night run to the store. The matte black van that had transferred him to the old abandoned garage. The pain of him being tortured. Then the small red book that hydra guards brought out and used to repeat those dreaded words over and over and over until he didn’t remember. The rest of it was just small pieces, a motorcycle, and he was in a park but why? Bucky stayed in place as he thought. But then it came to him. This was the park that Steve loved- Steve. What happened to Steve?
Bucky whipped his head around in time to see Steve’s chest fall one last time. He tore his eyes away from his chest to Steve’s blue eyes that held so much life. The eyes that had held so much life. The life in Steve’s eyes vanished, leaving his eyes still starring at where Bucky had been.
Bucky ran to Steve practically tripping over Steve’s hand- the hand that he would always hold, it had brought him comfort, it made him feel safe. Bucky knelt down next to Steve’s body.
“No no no no Steve open your eyes, come on, just open them, Steve I’m so sorry- please just open your eyes” Bucky said weakly, his voice cracking. Buckys shaky fingers raised to rest on Steve’s neck, looking for a pulse. Nothing.
Bucky put his hands on Steve’s chest to do CPR when he notices the blood. There is so much blood. Why's there so much blood? Steve’s once blue shirt is dark red and sticking to his body, wet with his own blood. It was his favorite shirt- the one Bucky had given him during their first Christmas together after everything with hydra happened. It was the first time in awhile that Bucky had felt safe, he had finally felt like he could look past everything he did and move on to his future with Steve.
Buckys vision is blurred with tears, he stops trying to wipe at his face because the hot tears just won’t stop. Bucky looks down at Steve’s face again, his eyes still open. He brings his hand up to Steve’s eyes, he needs to shut them. Bucky looks into his eyes. Those big blue eyes, one of the many things that Bucky had loved about Steve. He brings his fingers up to shut his eyes. As soon as he does it he realizes that he will never get to see those big blue eyes again. He will never get to look into the eyes of the person he loves again.
Bucky lays next to Steve’s body, laying his head against Steve’s shoulder. He puts his arm around Steve, desperate for the warmth that he knows will soon leave him.
“Steve, I’m sorry- It’s all my fault I should have been able to control it. I didn’t mean to - Steve I love you. You weren’t supposed to die first, it was supposed to be me, I was supposed to die before you. Now what am I going to do? Steve you were all I had left, I’m nothing without you. Why did you have to die? Steve, why did you have to leave me” Buckys voice now holds anger, not towards Steve but at himself for letting it happen.
Bucky lays with Steve for hours, he can feel Steve slowly lose his warmth. His body turns cold, it’s not as soft as it was when he first found him dead on the ground. Steve hated being cold. He opens his eyes and finds that the sun has almost set. The street lights have turned on, and the constant flow of cars near them has slowed down. He needs to get Steve home, he doesn’t want him to get sick; it’s too cold outside. Bucky reaches into a small velcro pocket of Steve’s pants and grabs the flip phone that he had always kept there. He opens it and clicks on the only contact.
“Hey, Steve where have you-“
“Tony it’s me, Barnes. Steve he- I- Tony he cant be right? I mean he cant actually be-“
“Bar- Bucky calm down. I can’t understand you, what happened to Steve? Is he okay?”
“Steve he- he doesn’t have a pul-“ With that Bucky takes a shakey breath in, he can’t say it. He can’t actually be dead. “Come here, track this phone.”
And with that Bucky snaps the phone shut and shoves it in his own pocket. He brings his calloused hand up to Steve’s hair, running his fingers through it- just like Steve had always loved. It comforted him.
Bucky sits there and memorizes every detail on Steve’s face. The faint lines around his mouth from smiling, the small scar on his forehead from one of the many fights he used to get himself into. Bucky’s mouth curves into a small sad smile as he thinks about all the times he had sat Steve down on the couch and given him a speech about how he couldn’t go and fight every boy he saw. Steve would respond with why he had to do it causing Bucky to love him even more. He was always looking out for others. He remembers how he would grab a blanket and cover both of them. How they would lay on the couch together, Steve’s back pressed against Buckys chest.
Buckys eyes burn with tears. He hears the sound of a car approaching but he doesn’t take his eyes off Steve’s face. Bucky grabs Steve’s now cold hand and holds it in his own, running his thumb over his knuckles.
Bucky is snapped out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He raises his eyes to see Sam there, a sad attempt of a smile on his face. Sam takes in Buckys appearance. His eyes are bloodshot, tears streaming down his face. His bottom lip is shaking, along with his hands. His hands are stained a crimson red, dried blood left on his face from when he had tried to wipe his tears away.
“Hey buddy, lets get you home” says Sam, his hand now gripping Buckys shoulder, keeping him grounded. “But- but Steve- he is going to be all alone and what if he isn’t dead- what if I didn’t take his pulse right- he- he might still be alive I can’t- I can’t just leave him Sam, I can’t.” Buckys voice was quiet, he had given up hope. He knew Steve was gone.
Sam looks up to see Natasha with her fingers against Steve’s pulse point, she holds her fingers in place and then she drops her gaze to the ground. She slowly raises her head up and shakes her head no. A tear running down her own cheek.
Sams breath is halted, he leans down and grabs Bucky under his arms. He raises him up from the ground, putting an arm around his torso to keep him standing. Bucky felt physically weak, when he saw Steve stop fighting, when he saw all the strength leaving Steve’s body, it had left him as well.
“He’s gone Bucky, Tony and the team will bring him home, come on.” Sam replied his own voice shaking. “His shield- what if they forget his shield-“ whispered Bucky. Sam knew that Bucky was shutting down and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. “I got it, don’t worry” Sam bent down and grabbed the dented shield. His fingers gripped tightly around the small worn out leather handles.
Bucky looks back at Steve as they slowly walk away, his own feet shuffling against the wet grass. As he looks back, he doesn't see his entire team there. Natashas crying into Clint’s shoulder, Clint’s hand on her back rubbing up and down, his own face blank as he stares straight ahead. Thor is kneeling on the ground defeated. Small sparks of lightning coming from the tip of his fingers. Bruce is next to Steve’s body, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking, not a noise coming from him. Tony is looking up into the night sky, shaking his head as he mumbles quietly. His eyes filled with tears.
But as Bucky looks back he doesn’t see them, he can’t look past Steve’s bloody body. He killed him and wasn’t able to stop it. Bucky can’t help himself from thinking that the next time he would see Steve, he’d be in a coffin. He would have to bury him. He would have to watch as Steve was covered in soil, left buried all alone in the dark. If he was buried Bucky couldn’t hold his hand and tell him that everything was going to be alright. He couldn’t tell Steve that he loved him. He couldn’t tell him about his plans on marrying him. He couldn’t tell him that he loves- loved him one last time.
Bucky blinks and he is in a small car. It’s Tony’s car judging by the smell of new leather seats. Sam reaches over to put Bucky’s seatbelt on. Sam looks into Buckys eyes and sees nothing. His eyes no longer hold emotion. He shut down. It’s like Bucky is there physically, but he isn’t there.
Bucky keeps his eyes trained forward on the headrest of the seat in front of him. If Steve isn’t in his world, than he didn’t want to exist in that world. He had done the one thing he couldn’t live with. He had killed thousands and could barely live with that. Steve had been the one thing that kept him from feeling as if he was drowning. But now that Steve was gone, Bucky felt as if he was just spiraling deeper and deeper into the water. He couldn’t stop himself from drowning, he just let himself sink further and further. It didn’t matter if his friends had thrown out lifesavers, it didn’t matter if they tried to help him, nothing could save him from his own mind.
On that day Steven Grant Rogers had died, and Bucky had gone with him; leaving behind just a body. Bucky’s heartbeat was rapidly beating against his chest. His heartbeat only a reminder that he was still alive and Steve wasn’t. Bucky knew that he could recover from being the Winter Soldier, he could recover from killing thousands because he had Steve, but without him, Bucky knew he could never recover from that.