Winter Soldier: Fade to Red

Another Nightmare

Cold sweat dampened Bucky's naked chest and face. His entire body- aside from his artificial arm- was a trembling mess. Without hesitating, he stood up from his pallet on the floor of his quarters and walked across his bedroom, passing the untouched and perfectly-made king-size bed on his way to the bathroom. The dim nightlight cast the large room in a warm orange, illuminating his movements in the large mirror as he turned on the faucet. Cold water filled his hands and he splashed it all over his face, not bothering to be neat about it. He stared into the mirror and hated the haunted look that filled his eyes.

"Another night of fucking nightmares," he snarled.

He'd been with the Avengers for a while now. And before that he'd lived in Wakanda, where he learned how to be part of a community again. He'd used his skills for good and saved lives. But none of those deeds mattered when a list of atrocious crimes longer than he cared to fathom stacked up against the good he was trying to do. Would it ever matter? When, if ever, was he going to feel like he'd tipped the scales?

"Longing..." a harsh voice whispered from a darkened corner of the room.

Bucky grit his teeth. "No."

"Rusted..."

He slammed his hands onto the counter, his vibranium fist cracking through the marble.

"Seventeen..."

"No," Bucky repeated, this time more firmly.

"Daybreak..."

"Please, no," Bucky pleaded, his tone now pathetic to his own ears. "Please, don't do this."

"Furnace..."

Bucky threw his head back and screamed at the top of his lungs, his words unintelligible as his free will began to retreat to the back of his mind.

"Nine..."

Despite his losing battle for control, his entire body seized up, violent tremors striking him.

"Benign..."

He held onto the edge of the cliff with his fingernails.

"Homecoming..."

His heart raced and his mind became consumed with dread for the things he was about to do.

"One..."

He became still, accepting of his predicament.

"Freight car."

He knew that he would never truly be free. "Ready to comply," he muttered at his reflection.

The figure moved closer, a shadow that gradually darkened the room until he was right beside Bucky. "Perhaps...it is time to end all of this," the voice spoke as the figure reached for Bucky's slack hand and placed something familiar in it.

Cold. Metallic. Deadly in his hands.

"So? End it."

His inner self screamed but was denied as Bucky raised the handgun to his temple and pressed the trigger.

The gunshot rang out in the room as Bucky shot up from his place on the floor. Real or not, it left him a quivering, sweat-soaked mess. Throwing the sheet off of his body, he stumbled into the bathroom. This time he flipped the lights on, flooding the entire room in brightness before splashing his face. Taking in deep, harsh breaths, he fought to bring steadiness back to himself. Equilibrium.