Mine (Bucky Barnes)

One

Welcome to chapter one! Another reminder on how to pronounce Mirjana's name.  It's mere-jahn-ah. Or meer- john-uh. Both work.  <3 Artie
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November 1982

To say it was freezing outside would be an understatement. It was actually below freezing. Though she was born and raised in this area of Yugoslavia, Mirjana still shivered in her winter clothing. If it hadn't been for the wind, she would be fine. Unfortunately, it was an incredibly blustery day, and the cold permeated her coat, hat, gloves, and scarf. She was leaving the university campus library in a hurry to get to the next building to get out of the icy weather.

If she hadn't stayed up so late studying last night, Mirjana might've had time to actually do her laundry. All of her warm stockings were somewhere in her hamper back in her dorm room. Her mother suggested she double up on socks when the weather became this cold (because, unfortunately, it happened often), Mirjana still felt the bite of cold on her toes in her worn boots.

She'd been looking down at her feet, trying to keep her eyes out of the wind, when she ran into something hard. Bringing her eyes up, she realized it was actually two someone's. The men wore strange grey uniforms and fur covered hats and didn't seem the least bit bothered by the cold. They certainly didn't fit the look of a university student.

"Žao mi je. {I'm sorry,}" she apologized in her native Serbo-Croatian. As she stepped to the side to move around them, one reached out to her and gripped her bicep tightly. She glanced down at the hand with confusion before shooting a look towards the man that was clear she wasn't thrilled about what was happening.

"What is your name?" he asked. He spoke her language, but there was an accent to it. She could recognize a Russian easily by the way they spoke. More and more have been making their way into Yugoslavia after the death of Tito two years ago. She wasn't positive as to why, but she always thought it could be in an attempt to uphold the crumbling Communism in her country.

"I don't give that information to strangers. Excuse me, I'm late to my next class," she snapped in her best Russian. The men raised their eyebrows.

"Your Russian is good. What class were you heading to?" His grip was unrelenting.

"It's none of your business."

"It's a simple question, женщина {woman}. Answer him," the other man ordered. He moved his coat slightly and she caught the flash of a gun.

The fear that trickled down her spine was worse than the bitter cold. "Anatomy."

"Good enough," the man who gripped her said. He spun her around and now took hold of Mirjana's other arm and began to lead her towards the parking lot.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" she yelled as she tried to wiggle out of his arms. Of course, this was one of the few times that she was the only person outside. So much for there being 'safety in numbers'.

"Enough! Will you...?" The man not holding tight to Mirjana pulled a syringe out of his pocket and stuck it in her neck, pushing the plunger down only halfway.

"What did you...? What?" Her eyes faded to black before she could get a full sentence out.

Mirjana didn't know how long she'd been unconscious. Her neck was in the beginning stages of getting a cramp, which was a good indication that it had been at least a few hours. Her eyes were covered, legs and arms bound to what felt like a chair.

"She's awake."

"Finally."

"Take off the blindfold."