Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Fate

1944

You felt it. You saw it. He was never going to die, just have dreams and wishes that he would for so long. He would kill more men and women and children than he has Nazi men here. You tried to persuade him, tried to tell him not to go.

"Doll, I have to help. I know you see my fate, but it's okay."

"No, it's not," you cried, sobs reaching your throat and threatening to jump. "James, you never die. You- they take you as captor, use their expirements on you, take your memory. You won't remember Steve, the commandos. Me..."

He had thought about it, even listened to everything you had said would happen if he went. But, he couldn't let Steve do this alone, even after hearing he would crash in a year or so. He couldn't let his country down, not when it was so close to winning the war he was brought into.

1946

They found you. Bucky had tried so hard to keep you a secret from any hydra member, even after the fall. He was refusing everything, and before his mission with Steve, he burned everything he had of you, even given the pictures to Peggy because his heart hurt too much to throw them in the barrel. But, he forgot he had drilled it in his brain that you were his love, his one, his everything.

So when they tried so many times to wipe him, just as you said they would, your name came off his lips. They questioned him, and after months of refusing, of torture, of just downright hating himself, he was too weak to fight anymore. He was on the other side of the country, they couldn't get to you.

Oh, how he was wrong. Not even three weeks later, screaming was heard from down the hall, a pitch he had pinpointed to female...familiar. Then, the door opened and you were dropping in front of him, blood all over your arms and legs, and nothing but a button up and some type of work pants that had become famous while he was away.

He was livid. You were sobbing at the pain and how much you wanted to go home, and he had to watch as they handled you with such care a bear would to its prey. He lost count of how many times you were hit until you were begging for them to stop, and he was sure his voice was going to die out when they left you on the floor, barely moving to your back as blood poured out of your face and stomach.

"Y/N?" He questioned and pulled on the chain keeping him away from you. He grew worried when you didn't answer, his new arm pulling on the chain at such a strength it started coming off the wall. "Y/N, answer me, Doll. You gotta answer me." Concrete fell beside him and metal hit the ground harshly, and he moved forward to slide next to your limp body, your chest shaking with painful sobs.

"I'm here, Honey, I'm right here," he cooed softly, his hand pushing your hair out of the blood. "I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you, I should've- I'm sorry," he sobbed and placed his head on your chest, which was barely rising and falling. Your ribs were pushing into your lungs, and you had to have some type of brain bleed or internal bleeding.

Still, even weak, your placed your hand on his head and comforted him, knowing where the guilt lies. You knew he got rid of everything about you he had, besides the pictures, and he even promised he would be back. He never once did, and it hurt you to be alone for a year, especially when Steve crashed.

"Shh, Buck," you whispered with a cracked voice. "Just let them do it, you'll be free again. I promise."

He listened to you. He didn't know if you were alive or dead, but he had hope you were somewhere alive in the base. Even without his memory, he kept his eyes on a room with multiple locks and keypads, a fateful giggle making his ears ring as he made rounds on the other prisoners he would soon find out would not make it.