Bound By Purpose

1963: The Pain of the Past

Slipping back into consciousness for the first time since going under I slowly move my head. My body fidgets, feeling as if there was still electricity running through me. I don't know what time it is or what part of the base I'm in, but I know that this is the most pain I've ever been through physically. I'm still strapped to the table, but the men have all gone. After they beat me in the hallway they dragged me onto this table. They didn't even ask for information, instead going right into the torture. I try to breathe, but the throbbing makes it almost impossible. I glance down to my hands on the table and see that they are shaking furiously.

I try as hard as I can to look at my shoulder. They haven't cared to wrap it or anything like that. Thanks to gravity the top side has stopped bleeding, but who knows what the other side looks like. If I get through this I will have the most screwed up shoulder in history. I try desperately to see if I can move any part of myself, but everything is locked in place. I wiggle my wrists for a few minutes to no avail. I let out a gasp of exertion and let myself rest again as a splitting headache forms in my head. The stress of the situation gets to me. I rarely cry, but when no one's around I find myself in the right to let out a few sniffles.

I let it all well up and then I cry. Silent at first until my nose and throat have swollen with drainage, then I bubble up and let out one cry. A mistake evidently. I was stupid to believe no one was watching. The door closes with force and then there is new faces above me, all except the scientist who always finds a way to hurt me, ever since the beginning. "Broken yet?" He asks. When I do nothing but stare up at him he signals the man next to me. He shocks me once, small at first. He cuts straight to his point this time, "You haven't aged a day in 20 years, and somehow you found a way to survive my little shot I gave you in the yard that day..." When I don't speak again, he signals for another round. The shock jumps incredibly and I let out a scream with it. Scream all you want but don't say anything I tell myself. "The only possible answer to either of those is that you somehow found a way to replicate the soldier serum on yourself. How?" He leans over my face and I spit up at him. He wipes his face. Taking out his own knife he cuts the binding of my right wrist. "Fine." He picks up my arm and examines it. It's still flecked with small scars from the night Peggy and I fled for our lives into the woods. Bucky saved us. I picture my precious Bucky as the German  runs the knife down my arm. I bite my lip as he takes his time. "I know it's not the most conventional way to draw blood, but... It's fun to watch you squirm." I look away not letting him see my face. 

He drops my arm hard onto the table. He takes my blood away, leaving me to my bleeding arm and shoulder, as well as my still reeling body. I have no mind right now. I have no recollection of where I am or where I'm going anymore. My wrist is strapped back down as my captors leave me again. My arm stings and the taste of blood is fresh in my mouth. Bleeding out here would be better than what they have in store for me out there. Making no efforts to stop the blood or my convulsions from the phantom electricity, I make up my mind to let it happen. 

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 "Bucky?" I say trying to reach out to the person above me. I can feel his presence before I open my eyes in the cell. Reaching out I feel a gloved hand take my own. Opening my eyes I find that it's not Bucky. It's the masked soldier from before, except he doesn't have a mask anymore. Not in my right mind I ask, "Why do you look like Bucky Barnes?" I say this with almost a laugh. I am completely delirious at this point, and am probably dreaming. In my darkest moment he still has a place so deep in my mind that even in my most unaware state I can still find him.

He kneels down beside me and goes to work wrapping my arm. I still can't stop shaking. He realizes this and pauses. He touches me lightly on the good shoulder almost reassuringly. My shaking ends instantly. I must be dreaming right now, I shouldn't be able to calm myself. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When my eyes open again I see that the soldier has masked himself again... or had he been masked the whole time?  I move too quickly not knowing how much time we have. My head spins as I stand up too quickly. My legs say no so I let myself drop back to the floor. I slowly roll over and lean against the table. I let my legs lay out straight in front of me and lean my head back.

I'm handed a bottle of... water? I sniff the opening. Nope not water. "It will help." I'm shocked to hear a deep and muffled voice from the masked soldier. He's finally spoken. I don't second guess him and take one swig. I feel an instant wave of warmth come over me and then my mind starts to calm down. 

My eyesight clears and the face that I thought I'd seen is no more than the man from before. Bucky is dead and gone I remind myself. Skipping the introductions in fear of him turning on me, I ask a new question. "Why are you helping me?" I study him as he stands back up and extends a hand to me. With my little energy I rely on him to pull me back up.

"No one should have go through this." As he says it I know that he's been through it himself, I can feel the pain in his words. I nod in understanding. 

"Thank you." Is all I say. If we can get out of here there will be more time for questions and a formal introduction. He stands back up but extends a hand back down. With a little effort I'm able to pull myself back up. He initially lets me try to walk myself but within fives steps of walking I've faltered. I reach out for something to grab and I'm met with a solid arm. It's only now that I notice that he's enhanced. His fingers felt so cold before, because his entire arm is made of metal. When I'm stable I step back in astonishment. Seeing my reaction he looks down at his arm and then lowers it to his side. 

"It happened during the war..." So confirmation that he had fought in the war. He could've been fighting on either side there's no way of knowing unless he tells me. At least he's talking now, even it's only a sentence at a time and in a fairly heavy Russian accent, maybe it's safe to say he is a Russian. 

"Me too." I say with a smile and a motion to my arms. Both sides flayed with scars from the night in the forest. He eyes them carefully and then nods in respect.

"There's two ways out of here." He says moments later. Turning to me he continues. "Only one that's possible for us to get through unnoticed."

We peak into a hallway, but this time round it feels as if we've found our way to an abandoned side of the base. We're able to move freely and quickly here. The hallways are dimly lit, but there is no longer clean white floors from before. Instead we face cramped walkways covered in dust. Must have been an escape route during the war.

Thinking that my companion might now be more ready to talk I try to get him to open up a bit more. "Where exactly are we?" I ask not really expecting a straight reply.

"Siberia." He says as if it were obvious. I nod my head. It's a start at least. We walk alone in silence for quite a time before we reach a ladder at the end of our hallway. I follow him up and onto the next floor. It's here that the temperature drops signaling that we're on the outer shell of the base. He kneels in the corner and when he turns he has a large gun in hand as well as some clothes. I've focused on his movements but as he steps towards me I see that he's taken his mask off. The items are in my hands before I see his face. Looking up I let everything drop to the floor, and my hands fly to my mouth. He looks at me strangely but all I can see is the ghost of my fiance standing before my eyes. I had thought I'd seen him before in him, but I had told myself I was wrong.

Yet here he is, my James. I hadn't seen it before because I didn't believe it could ever be possible, but now I know that I knew it was him all along... somehow. "James?" I ask, as he stares at me unmoving.