Captured // A Winter Soldier Story

chapter four // fractured

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"You've fought the fight, you bear the scars, you've done your time. Listen to me- you've been lonely too long."
-Dust to Dust by The Civil Wars

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reyna's point of view

I spent the rest of the night attempting to fall asleep. I had dressed myself in the clothes the soldier had given me and even used the towel as a blanket, but I was still freezing, and uncomfortably damp. I think I got around two hours of sleep before my soldier returned, carrying a tray of mush that I believe was supposed to pass as food.

"Eat," he commanded, sliding it under the bottom bar of the cell door and pushing it towards me. I rubbed my eyes tiredly and sat up, placing the tray on my lap and staring at the contents of my breakfast. Nothing looked even remotely edible, but I hadn't eaten in maybe a day and a half, so I scarfed it down hungrily and tried not to gag. While I ate, the soldier leaned against the wall across from my cell and watched me.

I finished within a few minutes, my stomach still growling as it begged for more. I ignored its pleas and instead turned my attention to my utterly captivating guard.

"Do you have a name?" I asked, coming over and standing right in front of the door, as close to him as I could get while still trapped. He wore the same outfit he'd worn yesterday, a black leather combat suit complete with slots for guns and grenades. Today, all the slots were surprisingly empty. He stared at me for a full count of ten before replying.

"I used to." He chose his words slowly and carefully.

I frowned and eyed him warily. A man taken by Hydra who can't remember his name..?

I watched his face contort in agony, a mixture of many different emotions crossing his features as he wrestled with demons I could not see. It was a sad sight.

"What did your name used to be?" I asked carefully after a minute. He blinked and waited another five whole seconds before replying.

"Bucky. That's what the man on the bridge called me," he muttered. As I watched him, I got the feeling he wasn't speaking directly to me. My stomach turned as my fear of him dissolved into something worse: pity. I now knew exactly who this man was.

"The man on the bridge...?" I asked, hoping he'd respond with Steve, even though I already knew - I had found Steve's best friend, the man I'd been helping him look for for two years now, who'd first seen Steve on that bridge in D.C. My stomach dropped at the realization. This was Bucky?

Now I had to make it out of here. I had to tell Steve that'd I'd found his best friend.

The soldier, who I believed now was the infamous Bucky Barnes, sighed and finally leveled his gaze with mine, his blue eyes the only colorful thing I'd seen here besides the red star on his arm. I imagined those eyes once looked quite beautiful. They were definitely a hint of a life before this one, one that was much happier. But right now they looked exasperated and frustrated.

"Why are you even trying to talk to me? There is nothing but pain here. You can't win," he stated harshly, glaring at me with a clenched jaw. His face seemed to age twenty years as he spoke. Whatever pain he was speaking of, I got the feeling it was a lot worse than being hosed down, and the way he said you can't win made me think that he learned that the hard way. Steve's told me a little about the torturing Bucky's been through, but this....this broken man before me looks like he has suffered more than I could ever know.