Winter's Toy

11

    Bucky lunged for the knife at the same time she did, the world went quiet for the briefest of moments. They locked eyes, inches from each other, she was just underneath him kneeling. Her eyes held the lack of warmth they once held, his source of light in the cold metal roof erased. Slowly the pain ebbed in his side, a dull throb at first before it blossomed into searing pain.
     He leaned back away from her, she released the knife, her eyes tracked down to where the hilt stuck out of his jacket. His right side, his face scrunched up, she looked down at the blood on her hands before her eyes flickered back up him. Bucky pulled the knife out with out thinking, he pulled his jacket off. Bucky never took his eyes off of her as he lifted his shirt.
      The wound in his side had crossed into the scar of the bullet wound she had sowed up all those years ago. Slowly the blood seeped from the new wound, the scar tissue bleeding less then if it had been a fresh clean one.
    "Y/n, this isn't you." He breathed through the pain.
    "Why did you help me?" He was confused you could hear it in his voice.
You staggered back, looking down at him. Your eyes snapped up from him, looking around at the destruction sounding the two of you. Chunks of rumble, cement dust, the scent of sulfur from the explosives. Your mouth slack as you see what you had done, you looked back down at him.
"Y/n?" He asked, there was a flicker. You knew him. Then suddenly the world went black as pain exploded in the back of your head.
      Bucky looked up at Steve just as he put the shield on his back. He eyed the blood as it slowly trickled from his friends side, Steve extended his hand helping Bucky to his feet.
     "What the hell, punk? I told you to stay back." Bucky grimaced, looking down at your unconscious body.
     "I did, got everyone out and you had to go get yourself stabbed." He retorted, grabbing you by your wrists.
     "I was handling it just fine." Bucky snipped back, picking your knife up for the ground.
      "Sure, tell that to the blood coming from your side."
"You're home." You cried out, jumping up from the cot, circling your arms around his neck.  The last three years had changed the man you knew, no longer was just the broody assassin who said little.
      He was your protector, your companion. You kissed him, gently. His body still stiffened under your touch, but he allowed you this sweet gesture. You pulled back, looking into his eyes.
     "Of course I am. Where else would I go?" He responded drily, leaning into you, rubbing his face into your hair.
     But then he left, and never came back. That's when your real torture began. You were beat everyday, raped repeatedly, left bleeding and cold till one of the scientist came in. Telling the others that you were ready.
      First they made you watch footage of the things the soldier had done. His bloody murders and the clip of him living somewhere free in Romania, worry and confusion etched across his face.
      He left, and went on with his life. He forgot about you, he didn't care that you were at the mercy of these madman and animals. That's when they drove the needle into your arm, pouring liquid hot fire into your body. You had thought the beatings had been bad, nothing could of prepared you for this hell.
       "Longing." One of the men stated, confusion ripped through your body. Longing? Why the hell would he speak just one word, granted they didn't know you could understand them but it was still unusual.
     "Rusted."
     Your eyes fluttered open, greeted by darkness, the soft beeping of a machine next to you. Your chest started to tighten, you could feel your arm strapped to the bed some how. Fuck! Their going to wipe me again. You thought as you started to pull frantically at the metal cuff encircling your wrist.
      "Easy now, doll." The smooth deep voice from a corner came out softly. It was the man, the soldier from the street. "Do you know who I am?"
      "Prick." You stated in Russian, going back to trying to get your wrist free.
       "I'll take that as a no." He spoke back to you in Russian. You could hear the faint sound of him rising from a chair.
       "You are my mission," You hissed, stopping your attempt to free yourself. Slowly he came out of the darkened shadow, his features barely visible in the next near no light. Loose dark hair frame his face, his black tactical gear blending in with the shadows. He used his size to intimidate, but only dialed in your anger.
       "Soldat, mission report." His words crisp and clipped as he spoke. His posture was ridged, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"Buck, I don't think this is a good idea." Steve warned leaning again the wall in the conference room, watching his friend as he stood in the open door way.
      "I have to agree with his spangly highness, having one highly trained hydra unstable amnesiac is about all we can handle." Tony chimed in, Spinning in his office chair lightly.
       "I can handle her." Bucky's tone was firm.
       "You can handle her? You can barely handle yourself. You broke my fridge three weeks ago when you were in asleep deprived state." Tony stated, leaning forward putting his elbows on his knees.
       "I know the protocol, how to deal her. I'm sure they used the same tactics on her that they did me." Bucky remained unmoved, he wasn't going to send you away. He wasn't going to leave you this time.
        "To retrieve the asset or destroy it." You snarled back, the fire in your eyes were back.