Bucky's Anchor

Chapter 17 - The Monster Within

The base was eerily quiet. Too quiet. I paced the small room they'd confined Steve and me to after my brief visit with Bucky. Steve sat on the cot, his eyes distant as he stared at the floor. I knew he was thinking about Bucky—just as I was.

"We need to get him out of here," I muttered, breaking the silence.

Steve looked up at me, his eyes full of the same determination and worry I felt. "I know," he said quietly. "But we need a plan."

Before I could respond, the door flew open, and one of the agents barged in. His face was pale, and there was an urgency in his movements that made my stomach drop.

"What's going on?" Steve demanded, rising to his feet.

The agent barely glanced at us as he spoke into his earpiece. "We have a situation in the lower levels. Code Red. Subject Barnes has been activated."

My heart stopped. "Activated?" The word came out in a whisper, my voice trembling with fear. No. It couldn't be. "No," I breathed, moving toward the door, but the agent blocked my path.

"You need to stay here," he ordered.

"Like hell, I will!" I shouted, shoving past him. Steve was right behind me, pushing the agent aside. The hallway was in chaos—alarms blaring, red lights flashing as security personnel rushed toward the lower levels.

I broke into a run, Steve matching my pace. "We have to get to him, Steve," I gasped. "We can't let them turn him into that... thing again."

We turned a corner, nearly colliding with another group of agents. The air was thick with tension, a palpable fear that something was terribly, terribly wrong. And I knew exactly what it was.

We reached the entrance to the lower levels, and I saw the heavy metal door that led to the cells. It was dented, as if something had slammed into it with inhuman strength. My stomach twisted with dread. "Bucky," I whispered, fear clawing at my chest.

Steve was already moving, yanking the door open with a grunt. We rushed inside, and the sight that greeted us made my blood run cold.

Bucky was there, standing in the middle of the corridor, his back to us. His posture was rigid, his head tilted slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. And then I saw Zemo, standing at the far end of the hallway, his face a mask of calm satisfaction.

"Bucky!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the corridor.

Bucky turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine. But they were not the eyes of the man I knew. They were cold, empty, devoid of the warmth and vulnerability I had seen just moments ago. My heart sank. He was gone, buried beneath the Winter Soldier once again.

"Zemo, you bastard!" Steve roared, lunging toward the man who had caused all of this.

But Zemo merely smiled, his eyes flicking to Bucky. "You see," he said calmly, his voice carrying over the chaos, "there is no escaping what you are."

Bucky moved, his movements swift and precise. He charged toward us with a speed that took my breath away. Steve barely managed to block the first blow, the force of it sending him crashing into the wall. I stumbled back, my eyes wide with horror.

"Bucky, stop!" I screamed, but it was as if he couldn't hear me.

He swung at Steve again, relentless and powerful. Steve deflected, grunting with the effort it took to hold his ground. I knew I couldn't match Bucky in strength, but I had to do something.

I moved around them, my heart pounding in my chest. "Bucky, listen to me!" I yelled, trying to get through to him. "You're not the Winter Soldier! You are not their weapon!"

He turned his gaze to me, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that cold, unfeeling stare. He lunged at me, and I barely had time to react.

I dove to the side, crashing into the floor as his fist swung past me, smashing into the wall where I had stood moments before. I scrambled to my feet, my breath ragged and panicked. This wasn't Bucky. This was a ghost, a shadow of the man he used to be.

"Bucky, please," I begged, my voice breaking. "This isn't you!"

He hesitated for a split second, his eyes narrowing. But then he lunged again. I felt his arm wrap around my throat, dragging me back against him. I struggled, gasping for breath, the room spinning around me.

Steve moved toward us, his face a mask of fury and fear. "Let her go!" he bellowed.

Bucky tightened his grip, and I felt my vision blur. I clawed at his arm, trying to find some leverage, but he was too strong. Too lost.

"Fight it, Bucky!" I choked out. "Fight... them."

For a moment, everything was silent. I felt his grip loosen, just a fraction, and I dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—I was reaching him.

But then he was ripped away from me, Steve tackling him to the ground. I fell to my knees, gasping for air, my eyes watering as I watched the two men struggle. Steve was trying not to hurt him, trying to subdue him without causing more harm.

"Emily, stay back!" Steve shouted, his voice strained as he wrestled with Bucky.

I should have listened. I knew I should have. But I couldn't. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. I forced myself to my feet, stumbling toward them.

"Bucky!" I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. "You are not this! You are not their weapon!"

I saw him falter, his movements becoming sluggish. Steve pinned him to the floor, holding him down with all his strength. Bucky's chest heaved, his eyes wild as he fought against the programming.

"It's okay," I said, kneeling beside him. "It's okay, Bucky. We're here. I'm here."

His eyes flicked to mine, and for the first time, I saw something in them. A crack in the armor, a glimmer of the man trapped inside.

"Emily," he whispered, his voice ragged. "I... can't..."

"Yes, you can," I said fiercely. "You can fight this. I know you can."

He closed his eyes, his entire body trembling as he fought the internal war raging inside him. I held my breath, waiting, praying that he would come back to us. That he would come back to me.

Seconds felt like hours as we waited. And then, slowly, the tension in his body eased. His eyes opened, and this time, they were different. There was pain in them, confusion, but also recognition.

"Bucky," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

He looked at me, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I'm... sorry," he choked out. "I... I didn't mean..."

"It's not your fault," I said, reaching out to touch his face. "It's not your fault."

Steve let go of him, cautiously rising to his feet. Bucky remained on the floor, his breathing uneven, his body shaking with the aftermath of the fight.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. "You're okay," I murmured. "You're with us. You're safe."

He clung to me, his face buried in my shoulder as he shook with silent sobs. I held him tighter, my own tears falling freely. I didn't care about the chaos around us, the agents who would soon storm in. In this moment, it was just us. And Bucky was back.

"Zemo," Steve muttered, his voice filled with anger as he turned to where the man had been standing. But Zemo was gone, vanished into the shadows he'd come from.

We had survived this battle, but the war was far from over. And as I held Bucky in my arms, I knew we had to keep fighting. For him. For all of us.

"You're not alone," I whispered to him. "We'll get through this. Together."