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Bucky was being led to the front desk to wait for his therapist when he heard the words casually slip from Walker’s smug mouth.
“…an asset…”
Asset.
The asset.
Suddenly, it was not Walker that he was listening to. Suddenly, he was not walking into the lobby of the police department. The walls were reflective- too bright. The room full of golden squares with a chair ominously waiting for him. The chair. Pain. His legs gave out as he felt the hard rubber being forced into his mouth.
‘No.’ He thought, panicked. ‘No more.’
“The asset is not complying-“
“Go again.” A voice demanded, deep and firm.
“But he-“
“The asset must be restored.” The voice demanded again, always demanding.
Bucky hated that voice.
He could feel hands grabbing at his arms, restraining. The pain was coming, he knew. He had to fight, he had to get to the man on the bridge. Rearing his vibranium arm back into something soft, he felt satisfaction when he heard a shout of pain.
“Stop!” This voice was new, startling Bucky into hunching down away from it.
The hands tightened around his shoulders. He bit down harder on the rubber guard in his mouth. Everything was too bright.
“Move back! Now!” There was that new voice again, it sounded urgent. The hands on him faded away, like a fuzzy memory. Bucky blinked, the people in the golden room were blurry, he narrowed his eyes trying to focus on them.
“James Barnes.” He knew that name, had heard it somewhere. Bucky tilted his head towards the new voice. “You are at the police station. You are not being held down. What you are seeing happened a long time ago, you are not there.” Bucky heard the words but couldn’t understand all of them. He tried again to focus, this time on the voice. The tone was steady, this person was speaking to him, not about him.
“James Barnes, I need you to close your eyes and breathe.”
Very rarely did anyone speak to him.
Breathe. He could do that. Slamming his eyes shut, he shakily let out a breath. His chest was tight with fear and pain, his lungs felt as though they were being crushed tighter and tighter. Why were his lungs being crushed? No one was holding him down anymore. But he still couldn’t breathe.
“Focus on my voice.” The voice interrupted, forcing Bucky to listen again. He still had his eyes closed but his breaths were getting caught on their way up into his chest. “You are James Barnes. You are in Baltimore, Maryland. Breathe in.” Bucky listened to the words this time as he struggled to breathe as the voice told him to do.
‘James Barnes. I am James Barnes.’ He repeated in his head over and over and over.
“Breathe in and out.” The voice said, suddenly closer to his left side. Bucky clenches his gloved fist tighter, ready to lash out again.
“You’re not there anymore, you’re in Baltimore with me.”
‘Who are you?’ He wondered, forcing another breath out.
The sound of the machine whirring up ready to inflict more pain slowly faded away until he couldn’t even remember what it sounded like. The room now eerily silent except for the voice, the new voice, talking to him.
No one ever talks this much to him.
He wants to open his eyes, but the new voice had told him to close them. His ankles are cramping from the way he is sitting on them. But that doesn’t make sense, his feet wouldn’t be under him in the chair. And there’s a cold wall to his right that his head is leaning against. He doesn’t remember a wall near the chair.
Bucky’s eyes shoot open.
The room isn’t very bright at all, and it certainly isn’t golden. The walls are grey, the floor is grey, the chairs on the other side are all grey. There are two figures standing over him, one is a man and the other is a woman. His brain is sluggish to respond as he tries to remember where he is and if he knows the two people.
After taking in the room, he opens his mouth to ask where he is, but his jaw is locked tight. Fear flashes through him once more, panic that he will never be able to open his mouth again. They never wanted him to talk anyway. Bucky tried to lift his right hand to his face, but it feels like he’s moving through thickening mud. He finally gets his hand to his mouth and pushes through his lips, expecting to find the hard rubber cemented in but finds only teeth.
The figure of the man kneels down in front of him as he is trying to pull his teeth apart to open his jaw. A whine of frustration accidentally builds in his throat. His eyes snap downward. Fear. He doesn’t know this person; they could cause him pain.
“Hey, you with me?” The voice asks. It doesn’t sound as urgent as it did. It’s still just as steady. “Bucky?”
Bucky stares at the floor, his right arm slumped into his lap. He knows that name too. ‘Is that mine?’ He wonders.
The voice is still asking him questions, making his head hurt. He can’t think anymore, everything is too slow. He just wants to sleep. He winces as the timbre of the voice triggers a pounding in his head and neck. He wants to go home.
‘Where is home?’
“Home?” The voice asks. The man lowers himself until he is in Bucky’s line of sight. Bucky peers at him, hesitantly, from under his brow. “Do you want to go home?”
Go home? He can’t trust this man, can he? He can’t trust anyone. ‘Man on the bridge. Trust him…’ He tells himself, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on his own thoughts. ‘Til the end of the line.’
The woman that was standing beside the man moves away and Bucky tenses, leaning further into the grey wall. He hears voices in the distance, but he still cautiously watches the man kneeling on the floor. The voices are getting closer, but it’s becoming harder to care when the pounding in his head is becoming thunderous and more painful.
A tiny pinch by the base of his neck surprises him, and he flips around, arm already aiming to land a hit. He doesn’t move quick enough, and the hands are back, holding him down, this time with his back on the floor. Multiple figures are looming over him, blocking the ceiling lights out. Hands on his neck, his legs, his arms. Restraining him from moving. Bucky tries to fight back, to not allow himself to be taken, but his body is no longer responding to him.
“Leave him alone!” Are the last words he hears from the man’s voice. It’s a foolish thought, but he thinks that maybe the man is here to help him. Maybe he can trust him.
Bucky drifts off, eyes closing, arms going limp. He hears the voices around him turn into a buzzing sound as a pleasant warmth spreads through his body, and he knows no more.
Darkness gives way to dim light as Bucky comes to, his eyes quickly scanning the room. He doesn’t know this room, he doesn’t have a bed, he doesn’t know where-
“Rise and shine!” A too cheerful voice announces from behind him. Bucky groans as his headache increases at the noise. “Sorry,” the voice whispers to his left. Bucky slowly rolls his head towards the voice; he feels like he ran a marathon. Under water.
Sam is standing beside the bed, a half-smile on his face. “You scared us all back there, thought you had been shot or something.” Sam trailed off.
“Wha’pnd?” Bucky croaked, throat burning. Sam grabbed a bottle of water off the table and uncapped it, holding it to Bucky’s lips.
“You hit the ground and started screaming.” Bucky sipped at the cool water as he listened to Sam’s whispers. “It was quite a flashback.”
Bucky shook his head, “No, was in the chair-“ he pushed the bottle away, annoyed.
Sam looked down and something changed in his expression. He had started to look almost sad, but now his eyes were clear, and he was half-smiling again. Only the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“It’s all over, you got out.” Sam says firmly. Bucky sighs in relief, sinking deeper into the soft pillows behind his back. He continues to watch Sam.
“You-“ Bucky frowns, confused. He’s so tired. It shouldn’t be this hard to think. “You stopped it?” His eyes are closing again, headache not as loud as it was. He remembers a man in the room, telling them to stop. Talking to him. Telling him to breathe.
A hand settles over his, and he can no longer keep his eyes open.
“Sleep, I’ll be here.” The new voice tells him, and Bucky thinks he can trust that voice.