The Soldat, The Captain and The Asset

1.8: The Birthday

-July 1974-

The Asset is tossing and turning on his ratty mattress that passes as his bed in the small, baran cell. His hands are gripped tightly, the metal one underneath the thin blanket, clenched in a fist, sweat dripping down from his forehead as images flow through his head.

— — — — —

He's standing outside of a wooden bedroom door. The wood is chipped in many places, and the hinges are rusted, weak. Coughing is coming from inside the room. It sounds raspy and wet, and his trained mind thinks of some sort of lung infection. That would need to be checked but given the state of the door his mind was making him doubt if the person could afford it. A voice in the back of his head was screaming at him, as if to say to protect him. He reaches towards the door handle, his hand isn't metal, it's peachy and fleshy. He brushes it off as he opens the door and steps into the room.

He looks at the man, or is it a boy, sitting on the bed. His frame is thin and bony, definitely ill, his eyes sunken in. His hair is a bit messy, but despite that there is a smile written all over his face. "Happy Birthday." He says using a voice he doesn't know if it is actually his own or not. The man's face lights up and he sits up as he walks over, sitting at the end of the bed. He hands him a small box, watching as he opens it, a watch inside with a leather strap. He picks it up and shows him the writing on the back. 'To Steve, till the end, Bucky' it reads. The man's, Steve his mind pieces together, eyes light up and Bucky places the watch over his small wrist, seemingly unbothered by the frailness of the smaller man.

Suddenly they are standing outside. How did they get outside? The sky is much darker and it's obvious a lot of time has passed. They are sitting high up, and looking around tells him they are on a ferris wheel. They are overlooking the skies as their legs hang limply over the seat. Their eyes are drawn to the stars, their hands intertwined with each other. A corn-dog is in his hand as he bites from it, Steve taking a few bites for himself, a broad smile on his face. The ferris wheel starts to go back down, the blood going to his head and the image fades away.

— — — — —

He jolts up on the mattress, wiping the sweat away from his forehead. He quickly gets up, putting on a pair of cargo pants, a vest and a heavy jacket before breaking out of his cell and running. Alarms ring through the compound, and guards start running at him, trying to force him down to incapacitate him but he's stronger, and they know that, and he easily ploughs past them and out of the large double doors, and into the hanger. He makes his way to one of the planes and flies out of the facility, making his way to Brooklyn.

After a few hours, he lands the plane in a remote area and he makes his way down towards where lights are coming from at the base of the mountains that he had landed. He quickly makes his way down, his hood over his head and his hands stuffed in his pocket. He heads into the town, looking at the people mingling about. He ignores them, his eyes automatically registering anyone that could be a threat or are doing something suspicious.

He walks up to a house that he doesn't understand while he sees as familiar. He knocks on the door and a woman comes out, she has greying hair and a cane. "Steve?" He asks, looking at the woman and she gasps, her hand covering her mouth. "I'm here to find Steve Rogers. Please." He doesn't know why he sounds panicked and desperate but in the back of his mind he realises that is what he should sound like, that it makes complete sense for him to react like that.

She shakes her head slightly. "James?" She inquires, reaching out but he takes a step back, cacious. "Bucky, Steve isn't here, he died with you, back in 1945." She tells him kindly. "Captain America is dead." She looks guilty at having to say that. She opens the door to allow him back inside for some warmth but he shakes his head, sitting down at the steps to the entrance. After some time, the door closes behind and the light goes out, leaving him sitting in the street with the few lights dotted about to make sure people don't walk into anything.

Bucky stays like that for a good amount of time before a spotlight shines from above him and people walk over to where is sitting, looking defeated. Shoes enter into his vision and he looks up, looking at Karpov standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, a displeased look on his face. He nods to the agents and they force Bucky to stand up and he doesn't fight them, much to Karpov's surprise. He stays lax as he's dragged back to the ship, ready to go back to base, and ultimately back into the chair.

"He's dead." He says quietly, and Karpov looks over at him in shock. "Steve, he's dead."

Karpov walks over to him and softly cups his cheek. "No one's coming for you, you know. We're all you have left." Bucky nods slightly and Karpov turns away, watching as Bucky is placed into the ship and strapped in. He looks over at Bucky as the ship ascends, flying back to Siberia. "Hydra is your family now."