Bucky Barnes Imagines

Memories

A/N

Y/m/h/c = Your mother's hair color

The italics are supposed to represent Bucky's memories :)

Warnings: Brief mention of death and house fire

Studying the figure before him Bucky's smile suddenly disappeared. Looking into Y/n's eyes he had remembered something, something terrible. His hands balled into fists and he got up, "I have to leave, I'll see you later Y/n,". Her smile faded in a questioning matter, "Why? What's wrong?".

Buck couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth, so he sat down once more and mumbled 'never mind'. Unfortunately for him, his lover was able to see through his random mood swing, " James, I know when you're lying to me. You can tell me what's wrong, " she paused then added "if you'd like,". A wry smile found the hardened man's face once again, " I don't think you'd like to hear doll,". Y/n simply put her hand on Bucky's muscular one and spoke, "I'm sure I can handle it,". The soldier didn't speak at first, instead he replayed the event in his mind to gather his thoughts.

My mind was completely clear of all but one thing: kill the targets, quickly and quietly. That target was the L/n's family, who had at the time been closely affiliated with SHIELD, and we're developing a new way to track the 'villains'.

Soon, I arrived at their large off the grid home somewhere in Y/C/Y/S. The beautiful and elegant home must of cost a fortune, with its arcs and huge windows; it must of had at least four floors. I put my metal arm on the door and my other on my gun. I knocked on the door three times and waited, wondering how this could be so easy. A Y/m/h/c woman had answered the door, shocked at my appearance she simply stood there. I didn't even need my gun to take her out, I simply choked her. Advancing into the house I discovered only the mother and a child had been home, I decided to burn the home and run.

I returned and was punished for not taking out all the targets, but they never returned me to that place. In my last few minutes before I was wiped, I thought about the child I thought I had killed, I remember feeling something: remorse.

Now this child was standing in front of me, the burn scars that graced her arms, legs, and neck stood as a reminder of what I was, and am, capable of.

Bucky put his flesh hand on one of the more prominent scars and whispered, "These are my fault, aren't they?". Again Y/n put her hand on the man's shoulder and spoke with tears prickling her eyes, "Yes,".