Winter's War || The Winter Soldier

Chapter Twenty-Two: Bucky

Music is "Dream" by Imagine Dragons.

Picture is Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier from Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Bucky

When I pull my body from the pavement, I see the Winter Soldier aiming a knife at Steve, Steve's shield stuck into the other side of the sedan. Steve blocks it, but the knife barely misses his face. They slide along the vehicle, carving gashes into the metal.

I make a run for the shield as Steve uses his body weight to turn both of them over on themselves. The Winter Soldier has a harder time to get up, weighed down by his own metal appendage. In the split second we have to spare, I grab the shield from its metal casing and toss it to Steve, shouting his name as I do.

Steve catches the shield just in time to turn and block more blows from the Winter Soldier. He pins the soldier's arm against the shield, damaging it, and knocks him in the head. I run at Steve, shouting, "Shield!"

Steve turns and lets me use his shield as a jumping-off point. I land on the Winter Soldier, locking my legs around his head and using my weight--and gravity--against him, just as I've seen Natasha do a million times. He falls onto the ground, his mask falling from the lower portion of his face.

The assassin's mask hit the ground, and his back was still turned towards us. I stop to take a breath, feeling Steve walk up beside me, ready to fight with me.

When the Winter Soldier turns towards us, neither of us can breathe. He's the man I've seen in my dreams, in my nightmares, and in my untouched memories. Longer hair and empty, cold eyes, but still the same man.

The man I fell in love with in 1938. The man I called my fiancé in 1942. The man I married in 1944.

The man I thought perished in the Alps in 1945.

My voice trembles too much to say a word. Tears of sadness, happiness, and confusion fill my eyes.

Steve is more composed than I, and says the one name I've prayed about seeing again for decades: "Bucky?"

The Winter Soldier's--Bucky's--eyes don't change a bit at the mention of his name. He doesn't recognize either of us. All love, joy, and belonging...just gone from his face. He says five words, pulling a gun from his thigh holster. He aims it at me.

And I'm not sure which breaks my heart more.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

I don't make a move to dodge the shot. If he's truly so far gone that he would shoot his own wife, then I don't really care about breathing anymore. We've been playing this game of cat and mouse all our lives, though we didn't know it was us. We've tried to kill each other more times than I can count, and he's taken some people that I just can't forget.

Zelma.

Howard.

Grant.

I don't want to admit it, but even if this person wears my husband's face, the man I loved has been gone for decades.

My Bucky is gone.

I close my eyes and await the shot, even though I know I'll be back in a matter of time. Grant is dead. Bucky killed him. Why does it matter? Does any of this matter? Has anything I've done matter?

Before he can take the shot, I hear Sam's Falcon suit crash into him. I open my eyes again, seeing Bucky fly across the street. When he pulls himself up again, his eyes look slightly downward--as if remembering something. Then the Soviet programming kicks in, and he raises his weapon once again.