Chapter 1
1.
They’ve had him for days, weeks, months, years. He doesn’t know. Somehow, they haven’t broken him, despite how broken he feels. He hasn’t given up. He hasn’t answered anything they want to know, he doesn’t think he’s given them anything to use against him.
He should have known better.
He’s still spinning from the drugs they’ve pumped into him when the door slams open. He doesn’t waste his energy by looking up to see who it is, simply stays stock-still, eyes closed. He hasn’t been allowed to move from the metal slab in...Weeks? Months? He genuinely has no idea. He tries not to dwell on it, and instead listens intently to the people in the room.
No one is talking, which is unusual. They usually come in and start mocking him, taunting him, telling him what they’re going to do to him. Now, though, not a single word is said. They come close - he can hear their footsteps - and a hand is brought down on his face. His eyes snap open and he tries to focus, but his vision is blurry.
“Wake up, we have a present for you.”
He frowns up at the fuzzy human shape, and then his straps are being undone and he’s being hauled to his feet. He stumbles, falling straight to the ground. Someone sneers something in Russian, and a boot collides with his side. He barely registers it - it’s nothing compared to what’s already been done to him.
He’s told to get up - but that’s impossible. He tries - there’s no point in aggravating them - but his legs simply won’t work. Plus, he’s still not used to the missing weight of his left arm. When it becomes clear that he can’t walk, they haul him up and drag him down out of the room. He tries to look around, see where he is and where he’s going, but he’s smacked on the back of his head and told to look down. He obeys, because they’ll just blindfold him if he doesn’t, and there’ll be more punishment later.
He’s dragged to a room he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen before, and thrown into a chair and strapped in. He’s not sure why they insist on keeping him locked up - he physically can’t get anywhere or do anything to harm them. There’s no way he can escape. He thinks they’ve implanted a tracker into him, as well.
“Open your eyes.”
He hadn’t even known they were closed. He forces them open and takes a moment to let his vision clear.
Steve is sitting across from him, strapped into his own chair.
What? That’s impossible - Steve’s safe at home in Brooklyn, getting into fights and helping take care of Bucky’s family while Bucky’s gone. He must have gotten the news by now - did the telegram say MIA or KIA? There’s no way that that’s Steve, sitting across from him.
But...it is. He would look exactly like he did when Bucky left him, if not for the countless bruises and cuts and scrapes covering his face and bare chest. He looks skinnier than before, if that’s possible. He’s blindfolded, and breathing hard. He’s probably terrified. No, he’s definitely terrified. How the hell did he get here? Why was he here?
It sinks in, then, just how dire the situation is. Bucky has an idea of why Steve’s here, and he doesn’t like it one bit. Before he has time to think his way out of this, or say anything, two masked men are coming into the room, followed by Zola himself.
“So, you have met our newest guest?” the man says, a pleased smile on his face.
Bucky can only stare at Steve. He can’t remember what he’s said to give Hydra the idea that Steve even exists. He doesn’t know what to do. He watches as Steve whips his head around to look in the general direction of Zola. Steve bares his teeth, and Bucky winces, terror pooling in his gut.
“Oh, I’m sure you two are already well acquainted. Steve Rogers has been with us only a few days, but I’ve heard from a very reliable source that you already know each other,” Zola continues.
Bucky hasn’t made a sound - he can’t. He’s so shocked that he doesn’t think he could even scream. Zola gestures at one of the masked men, and he steps forwards, reaching for Steve. Bucky twitches, and Zola’s eyes cut to him, fascination shining there. Bucky goes still immediately.
The masked man removes Steve’s blindfold.
Bucky’s stomach is churning, but he’s got nothing to throw up. He watches Steve’s eyes dart around the room, watches him pull against his restraints. His eyes glide over Bucky at first, and then fall back on him. He frowns, like he doesn’t recognise Bucky at first, but then his eyes are going wide, and he’s pale and choking back a scream.
Bucky stares back, feeling strangely hollow after the previous silent panic.
“Bucky?” hisses out from between Steve’s gritted teeth. Steve’s eyes drag over the place where Bucky’s left arm should be.
Bucky wants to close his eyes, but he can do nothing but stare. Zola looks like he’s about to burst from excitement.
“Oh, god, Bucky, what’d they do to you? Bucky? Can you hear me? What did you do to him, you monster?!”
Bucky wants to sink right into the Earth. He wants for Hydra to never have found Steve. He wants to never have been captured. Zola cackles, and walks forwards, reaching out and placing a hand on Steve’s jaw. Bucky tenses up, and pulls at his restraints. Zola’s looking at him immediately, one eyebrow raised. He makes a ‘hmmmm’ sound, and then drags his other hand through Steve’s hair. Steve’s cringing away as much as he can, eyes still locked on Bucky.
“D-Don’t -” Bucky tries to speak, but he breaks off and is sent into a round of hacking coughs. Each cough is like a kick to the ribs.
“Don’t? Oh, so you do know each other. Well, then this is...quite the gift, isn’t it?”
Bucky’s tugging weakly at the restraints, not fully aware that he’s doing it. He can see exactly what’s going to happen, and it hurts. It hurts so much more than anything they’ve done before. He aches for Steve, needs to hold him, to assure him he’s going to be okay. He thinks he’s crying. His cheeks are wet.
“Listen to me, Sergeant,” Zola suddenly snaps.
Bucky tries to focus on him, but his eyes keep slipping to Steve again. Zola continues anyway.
“We asked you to cooperate. We told you there would be consequences if you didn’t. I told you about the procedure - you’ve nearly completed phase one. This is your final test.”
Bucky can’t breathe. Steve’s writhing the chair, on the verge of an asthma attack, and he’s screaming Bucky’s name. “Steve -” Bucky starts, but a hand cracks across his face, sending his focus whirling.
When he can see again, Steve’s got welts across his chest and tear tracks down his face. Bucky’s ears are ringing, and he tries to open his mouth to speak, but he’s gagged.
Apparently Zola doesn’t have time to drag this out. Bucky can do nothing but watch in disbelief as Steve - his Stevie - fights against his restraints as the gun is pointed at him. Bucky’s screaming now, but he feels distant, like he he’s watching this from behind one-way glass. He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body, but hell, he knows he’s screaming his throat raw. He’s fighting against the restraints, tears streaming down his face. He’s bleeding with how hard he’s fighting against the straps and his jaw aches from screaming and biting down on the gag.
In the end, he can’t look away.
One of the masked men takes the shot, because Zola is a gutless coward.
Steve’s body - so full of energy and fight and good - slumps in the chair, lifeless.
Bucky gives up.
*