Steve and Bucky-the prized assets of HYDRA

Chapter 12-Here we go again

The sterile chill of the HYDRA cell clung to Bucky and Steve like a second skin, a constant reminder of their captivity. Even with the fog of HYDRA's programming clouding his mind, Bucky found a primal comfort in Steve's presence. He'd murmur old stories, fragments of a life that felt both distant and achingly real – the salty air of Coney Island, the satisfying thwack of a well-aimed snowball, the shared exhaustion after a long day's work in Brooklyn. He'd watch Steve's face, searching for a flicker of recognition in those haunted blue eyes, a spark of the man he knew resided beneath the icy surface.

Steve remained a fortress of suppressed emotion, his jaw tight, his gaze often fixed on some unseen point in the cold concrete wall. He'd listen to Bucky's gentle ramblings, a subtle furrow creasing his brow, a fleeting shadow of confusion crossing his features. But he wouldn't respond, wouldn't offer a word, a touch, a sign that Bucky's voice was reaching him. He was a soldier, even in this broken state, and he wouldn't give HYDRA the satisfaction of seeing his vulnerability, wouldn't let them exploit the deep, unwavering bond he shared with Bucky. Yet, the effort of maintaining this stoic facade was visible in the rigid set of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands.

Then, the carefully constructed dam of Steve's control finally fractured. A choked sob escaped his lips, a sound raw with pain and despair. It was the sound of a dam bursting, releasing a torrent of grief he had held captive for too long. He crumpled against Bucky, burying his face in the worn fabric of his friend's shirt, his body wracked with silent, convulsive sobs. The weight of HYDRA's manipulation, the loss of their past, the uncertain future – it all crashed down upon him. Bucky held him tightly, his own heart aching with a familiar sorrow, his gaze hardening as the heavy steel door of their cell hissed open.

The Red Skull stood silhouetted in the doorway, his gaunt features illuminated by the harsh fluorescent light of the corridor. His presence exuded a chilling malevolence, a palpable aura of control and cruelty. He surveyed the two broken men, a thin, cruel smile playing on his lips. Bucky's grip on Steve tightened instinctively, a fierce protectiveness surging through the remnants of his fractured mind, a silent shield against the intrusion."Just leave us alone," he growled. 

Steve, his eyes burning with a raw, untamed fury, finally found his voice, a ragged snarl tearing from his throat. "Haven't you done enough to wreck everything?" he spat, his voice trembling with the effort of holding back a torrent of rage. "My life... my family... my friendships... just leave us alone! Please! Just... just LEAVE ME ALONE!!" He buried his face in Bucky's chest again, his body shaking with suppressed fury and grief. Bucky held him close, his own jaw tight, glaring daggers at the Red Skull.

"I'm sorry..." The Red Skull's voice was a low murmur, and for a fleeting second, a flicker of something unreadable, something that might have been sympathy, crossed his gaunt features. Then, it vanished, replaced by the familiar coldness. "But HYDRA doesn't allow emotions."

He produced a small, metallic device from his pocket and pressed a button. A high-pitched whine, inaudible to human ears, filled the cell. Bucky recoiled violently, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as an invisible force seemed to grip his very being, twisting his muscles and bones. His hold on Steve loosened involuntarily. "BUCKY!" Steve cried out, his head snapping up, his grief instantly replaced by a fierce, protective alarm. He scrambled to shield Bucky, his eyes wide with confusion and terror. He frantically patted Bucky's arms and chest, searching for a visible wound, a tangible source of his friend's agony, unaware of the insidious implant HYDRA had embedded within him.

Exploiting Steve's panicked distraction, the Red Skull moved with swift, predatory grace. A glint of steel flashed in his hand – a syringe filled with a clear, viscous liquid. He plunged it into Steve's arm. Steve flinched, a weak cry escaping his lips as the sedative began to course through his veins, his movements becoming sluggish, his eyes losing their sharp focus. While Steve's resistance waned, the Red Skull produced a cold, metallic collar. With a sickening click, he reattached it around Steve's neck, the smooth, unforgiving steel a stark symbol of his renewed captivity. "Welcome back, my Captain," the Red Skull hissed, a triumphant gleam in his eyes, his voice dripping with false cordiality, "and welcome back an old friend." Steve groaned, his body succumbing to the drug, his head lolling against Bucky's shoulder as unconsciousness claimed him.

As the Red Skull reached down to roughly pull Steve away, intending to transfer him to a more secure cell, Bucky's protective instincts, though dulled by pain, surged to the forefront. He lunged forward with a guttural snarl, his weakened body propelled by a desperate surge of adrenaline. Instantly, his own collar flared to life, a searing jolt of agonizing energy ripping through his nervous system. He cried out, his body convulsing, collapsing to his knees beside Steve's limp form. The Red Skull merely smirked, his finger hovering over the button on his device, each deliberate press sending another wave of torment through Bucky. His body twitched and spasmed uncontrollably until, finally, his struggles ceased, and he lay still beside his fallen comrade, both prisoners once more in the Red Skull's cruel game.

Later, after the facility had been breached and the dust had begun to settle, Natasha, with her meticulous eye for detail, discovered something hidden beneath the thin, stained mattress of Steve's cot. Five worn, dog-eared journals, their pages filled with Steve's familiar, looping handwriting. On one particular double page, however, the script devolved into a frantic, desperate scrawl, a single, agonizing plea repeated over and over again, filling every available space: "Don't forget Bucky again. Don't forget Bucky again! DON'T FORGET BUCKY !! AGAIN DON'T FORGET BUCKY AGAIN!!!" At the top of the page, stark against the frantic ink, was a chillingly precise date: December 16th, 2013. The day the Winter Soldier had been unleashed, the day Steve had remembered, and the day, for a year and a half, he had ultimately failed to keep his promise. The weight of that failure, etched in frantic ink, spoke volumes of the silent battle raging within Captain America's fractured mind.