Wanted for Slaughter || ᴋᴀʀʟɪ ᴍᴏʀɢᴇɴᴛʜᴀᴜ

I ∞

Bucky's voice called out. The faintest of 'byes' rumbled through the house, before the sound of the door closing filled your ears. 

Bucky was going to one of his therapy sessions before going out with Yori for dinner. Bless him. Yori was a nice old man. Always happy to see both you and Bucky whenever he go the chance to. You hadn't talked with him much, since he mostly does the talking, but he could keep up a conversation and that made him enough. 

The vibrations of the door rattling still lingered in the air, somehow making the air around you feel cold. You pulled your knees to your chest, putting the fabric of your oversized hoodie over your knees, trapping you in a small bubble of material. 

The wall in front of you became a piece of art coming to life, or at least to you it did. You stared at it like it was for ages, not quite sure how much time had past, but at the same time not giving it a thought. Overthinking was a futile exercise. You could feel your nails imprinting half moons into the skin on your wrist, but made no attempt to stop. It was as if your brain had consumed you into a deep sleep while you were still awake. Fully conscious but unable to make decisions. 

Wouldn't be the first time. 

The scene repeated itself in your head like a broken record playing a song over and over again. 

But it wasn't the memory of Hydra agents infiltrating your house. Kidnapping you. Killing your family in front of your eyes. It wasn't the imagine of your mothers pleading eyes as they dragged you away at 15. Or the years of experiment they did on you. No. It was he memory of waking up in that chamber all those years after. 

They must of forgotten about you, even after Hydra had fallen, you remained in one of the cyro-freezers for 76 years. 

Until someone found you. Not just someone, but your own brother. The brother that you thought was dead after falling from a train on a mission with his best friend nights before you were taken. 

You couldn't remember the process of Bucky unfreezing you, but he told you. He told you how he stood there, unable to move as he looked at your frozen body in cryogen. He told you that once he unfroze you, he held your body close to his, waiting patiently until your body returned back to its natural temperature. 

He sat there for hours, caressing your cheek, waiting for you to wake up. He also told you how scared you were when you noticed you were out of cryo. But you remembered that part, because you were awake. 

Immediately when you felt hands on you, you wriggled away, cornering yourself in the far end of the room, body shaking. You weren't sure whether it was because you were so scared, or that fact you just left a freezer, maybe both. 

"Hey, hey," He said. His voice softer than the ones guards used on you, yet you refused to look up, scared they'd beat the shit out of you again like they used to. "(Y/N)? It's me." 

It was never (Y/N). Always 'subject 45'. 

Tears never failed to cascade down your cheeks, but you trusted your gut, lifting your head to meet the gaze of those same piercing blue eyes that you thought you'd never see again. 

"Bucky?" Your voice croaked, with it not being used in years. 

He shot you a sad smile, tears gathering in the bottom on his eyelids. "Hey,"

It was almost an instinct. Your arms released the hold on your legs and you shot forwards, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

If this was a bad dream, you prayed the universe would let you stay in it for a while. 

Thankfully, it wasn't a bad dream. You were free. Maybe not fully, but free from the hold of any mind manipulation, any more mental destruction. 

Since then, you and Bucky moved into a two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn where you'd eventually made friends with Yori. But that was as far as you'd go in terms with making friends. It was pathetic to a point. You'd been out almost five months, yet still didn't want to go outside and meet new people. 

Maybe you were okay with being with yourself. It was all you had for over 70 years, and you had your humanity stripped of you in the process. You had an excuse, you'd use it.

Bucky told you about everything. From his time at Hydra to how Steve left. 

That part kinda sucked. You wished you were there for Bucky. That you could say goodbye to Steve. He was like another brother to you back in the 40's.

You also eventually told Bucky about Hydra's doings with you. They'd test different serums on you to see how people would react to them. You were basically their lab rat. They didn't care how much it hurt. They just cared that it hurt, so they wouldn't use too much of it on other, more important individuals. 

Sometimes you'd wonder if Bucky got a serum which you were tested on. That small connection made you look back when they'd stick you with needles, test if it would bring you more pain than the last one. Maybe thanks to you, he would get the less painful version of it. Maybe you weren't as useless as they made you feel.

You didn't know how long you sat on the sofa for, picking at your already red skin, drawing blood occasionally without even realising it. It became a habit. Whenever it was too quiet, you'd disassociate thinking about your past, as if your brain was torturing you all over again. And you couldn't even control it. 

Blood was dripping from your skin when you looked down, flowing beneath your fingernails as you stopped your scratching. The stain on your hoodie wasn't big, but it was there. It sent realisation through your body. You did it again. Managed to escape reality by creating a new one in your head without asking yourself to. 

You sighed, rushing to the kitchen to place your hand under cold water. You caught your eyes watching the clock. 

6 P.M. 

The small hum of the T.V interrupted your thoughts. You didn't even remember turning it on, but shrugged it off nonetheless. You grabbed a rag, wrapped it around your injured wrist and walked back towards the living room, needing a distraction. 

The sound of the hinges squeaking came a few seconds later. Bucky emerging from the door frame. He gave you a small smile when he walked in, to which you smiled back before both of you turned your attention to the big 'Breaking News' sign on the bottom of the frame. 

"While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend earth, we also need a hero to defend this country," The man on the T.V. said. "We need a real person who embodies America's greatest values. We need something to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defence and out Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America."

You looked back at Bucky. You thought Sam had become the new Captain America 6 months back when Steve returned to give him the shield. 

"I thought Sam had the shield?" You asked. Bucky only now looked at you, realising how badly your wrist was bleeding. He hummed, brows furrowed as he walked closer to you. 

"He's supposed to have it. What happened to your wrist?" He took your arm gently in his, unwrapping the cloth around it to inspect it closely. You didn't get to respond, both your heads turning to the T.V.

A scruffy looking man walked down the steps, waving the shield around as cheers were thrown at him. He smiled proudly as he shook the Governors hand, acting as if he owns the place. 

"And he doesn't look like a Sam..." You breathed, looking at Bucky who broke his gaze from the monitor and onto your hand.

"Come on, let me fix your wrist," He said, ignoring the looks you gave him. He took the gloves off his hands that he usually wore when he went outside and threw them onto the sofa, dragging you towards the kitchen. "We're going to pay Sam a little visit tomorrow,"