Sane // A Winter Soldier Story

chapter twelve // light

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"Broad-shouldered beasts fill the sky.....But you are wrapped up in wire, curled up in fright." -Broad-Shouldered Beasts by Mumford and Sons

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《Bucky》

In his world, it was dark. Everything was dark. He stumbled blindly around, trying to wrap his mind around where he was and what he was doing. He could feel things- oh god, could he feel the pain that clung to him like heavy, metal chains- but he could not see.

Bucky was dreaming, but he did not know that. He knew this pain so well that it felt all too real.

In this nightmare, he felt his arms move, his legs walk. He knew he was pulling trigger after trigger. But he could not see what he was shooting, and he could not understand why he felt so violated. He felt like someone else was in control; like he was a pawn in someone else's game.

But why would someone else be in control? This is his body, right? Shouldn't he be in charge? Shouldn't he be able to move however he wants?

It was still dark. He called out, screaming, crying, begging, for someone, anyone, to come and save him. To rip him from this half-dead state and bring light into his dark, cold world.

But no one answered. No one even heard his cries. For he felt like he was screaming as loud as he could, but the screams were only in his head; someone else had control of his mouth, and his mouth remained glued shut.

And then all of a sudden life came screaming back; light roared into the darkness and he squinted and held up his hands in defense, as he was not used to being able to see. And he looked up just in time to hear the man with the blonde hair- the man with the white star on his suit and the eyes, the green blue eyes that he knows, he knows those eyes -- say his name. His name. He'd never had a name before, but now he did, and the way the man said it made him never want to hear his name come out of anyone else's mouth ever again because it would never sound as beautiful.

And suddenly he had control again- over his hands, his feet, his fingers. He could see, he could hear. The pain dimmed. His head stopped spinning. As long as looked at the man with the blonde hair, right at him, then the world was still. He had control of his mouth again, too, and he tried to form words; but he couldn't remember how to. Somewhere in the darkness he'd forgotten how to speak. But did he know how to do it before? Could he speak before the darkness had taken over? He couldn't remember -- everything was a mess, a jumble of dark and light and red and the man with blue green eyes.

He kept his eyes on the man. As long as he could see him, Bucky'd be safe.

But then the man was gone and red took his place, and Bucky couldn't remember how to form words but he could remember how to scream, so he let out a scream that radiated pure fear as the darkness closed in on him again. His side exploded with pain just as his head did the same, and he collapsed, wrenching and convulsing and desperately trying to remember the man, trying to memorize the blue green eyes.

Bucky couldn't think; he couldn't breathe. The blue green eyes were gone. Everything was gone. His screams hesitated at the back of his throat. He peeled open his eyes and was met with cold, calculating stares; a group of men stood before him, relaying orders. Bucky had no choice but to listen and comply.

The blue green eyes were far, so far, too far away for Bucky to reach or even think about. He was trapped again, in a world that was dark and cold and terrifying but completely inescapable.