In My Head • Bucky Barnes

Chapter 8

My head throbbed as the fog of sleep cleared. As my body woke up I had the horrid realisation of where I was. Huge cuffs constructed out of what only could be vibranium bound my wrists to the chair, the same around my ankle. I tried to flex my metal arm only to find it had been deactivated somehow.

I didn't even know that was possible.

I guess even hydra needed a safety switch.

"Ah you're awake." A strangely familiar voice echoed around my box-like cage.

I lift my head to get a better look at the owner and instantly regret my decision. A splitting pain cracks through my skull blurring my vision. I can barely hold my head up for a second before it drops back down.

"Where am I?" I stammer trying to block out as much pain as possible.

"A secure facility. You and your partner were surprisingly easy to catch."

"Partner? I don't have...WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH BELLE." All former pain forgotten I thrash in my seat trying to break the shackles.

"So her name's Belle. Thank you she hasn't said a word since we got here."

I focused on the figure who I could make out to be the red headed woman from central park.

"She doesn't talk to avengers who knock out her guardian and then kidnap her, funnily enough." I hoped enough of my inner rage seeped out. Based on the put off look on the woman's face I would say so.

"We're sending someone to talk to her as we speak. If your stories match we might let her see you."

"Why should I believe a word you say."

"Because if you don't talk you won't see her again. I'll make sure of that." She's bluffing, I can tell. But the irrational part of my brain is screaming at me to talk in order to protect Belle.

"We only wanted to escape Hydra. We came here to start over."

"How did you two meet?"

That question struck a nerve and I slumped in my seat. "That's none of your concern."

"Look I know you don't trust me, but there are people who are going to take her away from you. Prove to me that you have been the one looking after her and I will make sure she doesn't get put in the system."

"I'd like to see you try." I snarled, clenching the arm of the chair it may well snap off.

"James..."

"My name is Bucky." That received a rather unexpected reaction. The woman smiled to herself noting down something on her pad.

"He said you would say that. 'Always hated the name James.'"

"Who told you that?"

"So you really don't remember him."

"Who?"

"Steve Rogers."

Steve. Steve Rogers. The scruffy boy from my memories spoke to her, how? He must be at least one hundred years old. That shouldn't be possible.

"I- how? I don't understand."

My mind is clouded by too many thoughts to think clearly. The agent takes a step closer to the glass looking at me with sympathy.

"I told him I would alert him when you wake up. You can see him if you want."

"No, I don't understand. How is he alive? It's been seventy years, he'd be a hundred. It doesn't make sense."