Chapter 6
1.
Hydra is gone - he gets the news three weeks after the failure of project insight. The people who have put him in this cell - they call themselves Shield, but Shield was Hydra - watch him closely when they tell him. He doesn’t react. He feels hollow, purposeless. He expected to feel something at the news, but there is nothing. He doesn’t care. He’s traded one handler for another.
For another week, he is observed and watched. They don’t know what to make of him. He hasn’t said a word in an entire month. He hasn’t reacted to anything, done anything or been anything but compliant. He doesn’t know what they want from him. He’s so confused. He’s convinced he’s going to die here, purely out of boredom. He’s fed well, but there is nothing. They check up on him routinely twice a day, which is when they feed him, and sometimes they ask him questions he doesn’t have the answers to. He isn’t used for missions and he isn’t on ice. He has no idea what to do.
And then the Little Spider shows up. She holds herself the exact same way he remembers - maybe that’s why he remembers. He doesn’t know what happened to her after - he cuts that thought off. Not Allowed.
He stands up and walks to the glass barrier that is a wall of his cell. She simply watches him as he stands there. Both of their faces are blank, but the Asset can read her. He taught her. She is confused, as he is, and frustrated. Is she their prisoner, too?
> Little Spider.
He speaks first, voice croaky from disuse. The Russian feels almost odd on his tongue. Natalia cracks a smile. It looks odd on her - had he ever seen her smile? - but it warms his heart. She nodes towards the heavily armed door, and indicates that she’s coming in. He is immediately wary - surely this can’t be allowed? But she comes in anyway, walking all the way in and coming to stand in front of him.
He holds himself carefully, eyes narrowed down at her. Perhaps it’s a trick. Perhaps this isn’t his Little Spider. Perhaps -
> Yasha, I can hear your mind going a mile a minute. Sit down. It’s been far too long.
It’s his Little Spider.
He does as she says, becoming aware that she is in control of the situation. They’ve taken the metal arm, and although he’s had nothing to do except keep in shape, he’s pretty sure there’s some way they could take him down without touching him. To his surprise, Natalia sits down next to him.
> Why haven’t you spoken to the interrogators? You’re in no danger here. You’ve already proven to be no danger to us.
He’s confused.
> Why am I being kept here? This isn’t proper protocol. I’m clearly not being used, so why am I awake?
He avoids the Little Spider’s questions for ones that have been clogging up his head for weeks. Natalia’s eyes soften just a fraction, and she reaches out a hand to rest it on his forearm. It’s warm, and the Asset feels his rigid spine relax.
“Yasha, we’re trying to help you. Please talk to the next person that comes in. You’re no longer the Asset. You are your own person.” She dumps it on him like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
He’s left reeling, also confused about the switch to English. “Then what am I?”
“Who. You are Yasha, or you are another name. You are you. Or...you are Bucky Barnes,” she says carefully.
Something in his mind shatters. Not Allowed Not Allowed Not Allowed. He shudders, squeezing his eyes shut at the onslaught of memories. He has been dreaming this past month, waking up screaming someone’s name. It’s now that he understands that the dreams were real. They had happened before.
“Yasha, listen to me.” Natalia’s words break through the dissociation, and he’s left reeling. Her hands come up to rest on either side of his face, and she forced him to look at her. He concentrates on the golden flecks in the green of her eyes. “Yasha, what do you remember?” she asks.
He swallows dryly. “Everything,” he admits.
She nods, and lets him close his eyes and disappear into his head. He stays still for a long time. Natalia leaves eventually, her presence slowly sliding out of the cell. He thinks he sleeps.
<>
“It’s time. Let him go in.”
“Are you sure? You saw how he reacted with the Widow - “
“I’m sure. He’s not a danger. It’s cruel to keep them from each other especially since he remembers.”
“Alright. I’ll let him know. He can go in tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t know whether to be happy for them, or fearful for them.”
“I know, right? This reincarnation thing does my head in.”
“It’s gonna be a long road.”
“How many times has this guy been reincarnated for him? Five times, now? They’ll make it.”
“One for the books, eh?”
“It sure is an anomaly.”
<>
The next morning, the Asset - Bucky? Yasha? - wakes up slowly, head pounding. His headache fades a little after he’s had some water and some breakfast. The events from yesterday are so surreal he’s not sure they really happened. Sometime around nine that morning, he’s asked to step out of the cell.
The door opens, and the guards are armed, but no one moves to touch him. He steps out warily, wondering if they’ve finally decided to put him under or put him down. He keeps his eyes on the ground, neck bent, and lets himself be marched down the hall. They take some stairs, going up and up and up, and then he’s left alone in a room he hasn’t seen before.
He looks around, and when he finds no one else, he checks the whole place over. He could break out, easily, but instead he takes a seat on the couch and grabs a book from the bookshelf. He’s confused, yes, but he hasn’t done something as mundane as this in a long, long time. Besides, he’s sure they’d take him down the moment he started fiddling with the window.
He doesn’t bother wondering why they’re doing this.
He’s trying to focus on the book, up to the second chapter, when the door opens again. He sees the guards outside, takes note of their weapons and where they are before his eyes slide to the person who has entered the room.
He drops the book.
“Stevie,” he croaks.
Steve’s eyes crinkle as he grins. There is sorrow there, but joyous hope, too. “Hey, Buck. Is it alright if I call you that?”
Bucky leaps up from the couch and bounds over to him only to hesitate in front of the man who has always come back for him. “How much do you remember?” he asks softly fear lacing each word.
Steve frowns a little, the blue of his eyes swimming with compassion. “Everything. But it’s okay. I don’t blame you. I just - I just want to have this time. Let this be the last time.”
“Steve,” Bucky starts, but then there’s arms wrapping around his middle.
“I’m so sorry for everything, Bucky, god, you have no idea,” is sobbed into his chest.
“I think I do,” Bucky murmurs, swallowing past the lump in his throat.
They stand there like that in the middle of the room for a while. Eventually, they move to the couch and talk, and talk, and talk.
Some part of Bucky still expects Steve to be taken from him at any moment.
The moment never comes. This time, they get it right.
Fin.
*