Finite Consistency - Bucky Barnes

Chapter 2: Soldat

He wakes with a jolt as if being kicked in the back and quickly jumps to his feet, turning to find nothing but an empty, cold room. Still no handlers in sight, panic starts to pry at his chest but he swallows it down.

He reaches into one of the many pockets of his belt to find a small digital clock and compass. It's 2:47AM. He's not supposed to check unless out on a mission but technically, his mission hasn't ended. No one has dismissed him as of yet. It must have been at least several hours since he'd returned. Perhaps they'd left him for good. Finally decided his problems and difficulty outweighed his use. No, they'd kill him before they left him to fend for himself. James has to believe that as he isn't sure what he'd do if they had left him. His handlers must just be... otherwise occupied. They'll be back. The soldier just has to be patient.

Soldat is usually extremely good with being patient. He could wait for hours on end, lying on a roof with a rifle in hand and never move a muscle. But you could say with the current circumstances and the way every cell in his body ached, it is now easier said than done. And upon remembering that his punishment couldn't possibly worsen from what he already had coming, he let himself slip back down toward the cold concrete and let his eyes rest until their return.

It's unusual, waiting for sleep. He knows he's done it before but can't remember when nor how. Does he just sit with his eyes closed or is there a routine to it? Perhaps it depends how you lay. The soldier rolls onto his back but it doesn't feel any easier. He waits for five minutes and when it doesn't come he realises he must be doing it wrong. It should be easier considering how drained his body still feels. It doesn't help that everytime he closes his eyes he can still see images that play over in his mind. Briefly the soldier wonders if this is supposed to happen. He's never held his eyes closed deliberately for this long before so it's impossible to know.

He only pays the images a minute of attention as the screaming of the soldiers voice and image of the man in the helicarrier hurt far too much to give any attention. He rests there on his back but makes sure to keep his eyes open. He's like that for another seven hours. Trying so very hard to ignore the thoughts flooding his brain and the pain that must spread when not tended to because now it's in his stomach. Clawing at him from the inside out. It's unfamiliar and he hates it. He hates everything that's happening right now and there is nothing he wouldn't give for a handler, just one, to come and give him something. Anything. Maintenance or a mission or cryo or punishment or instructions. And then as if someone had heard his prayers, there's the familiar grind of the outer door opening and he's saved.

The soldier tries to get to his feet but instant pain burns all down his body and panic sets in as he realises how long it's been and that he can't return to a stand for his handler or controller or whoever it may be. But the burning and stabbing over his body doesn't prevent him from trying. Without a sound, he's rolling over his dislocated shoulder onto his stomach before pulling his metal arm under him. When he finds he can't extend it to bring himself up, Soldat tries with his legs. They don't listen to his commands and neither does his head as he can no longer hold it up.

His vision turns dark a second time but at least this time he knows he's not alone. It's only when it's too late to take back his decision of giving into the void that he hears the voice. It's like a whisper running away from him but Soldat knows he hears it and he knows who it belongs to. It's muffled, it's distant and it's cut off but it's there.

"Bucky–"