The Mimic (HE/HIM VERSION)

117

"Can someone please tell me where the hell I am?!"

It had been a few days since the 'Lagos Massacre' - which every news outlet seemed to be naming it - and things hadn't been going well. World leaders were in the midst of creating the 'Sokovia Accords' in reaction to what had just happened, and it seemed to be creating an even greater rift between the team.

Y/n had been heavily sedated for every single one of those days. This had been the first time that Bruce had finally decided that he was stable enough not to give another dose. Plus, he had to know what was going on at some point.

Bucky had decided to leave the compound. He couldn't handle being there anymore, not with y/n's empty bed and Tony's smug face. He hadn't told anyone where he was going, but he knew. He was going to Romania. It was one of the highlighted places on y/n's map. So he wanted to try his hardest to see the world from y/n's point of view, and maybe take some photos to somehow send to him.

Y/n had been yelling for what felt like hours. He had stood up from his bed, using the orb of fire in his palm to navigate the empty room. His eyes were still watery from his nightmare, and they didn't seem to be clearing up anytime soon. He'd just had a nightmare about being trapped in a dark room, and now he was back in that exact scenario. The only difference was the fact that he wasn't a child anymore. The dark wasn't the scary to him anymore, it was the fact that he was alone.

Alone and pacing around an empty room.

But, y/n did know one thing. Losing control of his powers hadn't been a nightmare. That horrible mess of a mission hadn't been a nightmare. It was all real, which was made obvious by the fact that everything hurt. His head was still pounding, his ribs still hurt with every breath, and his hands were bandaged up pretty neatly. That was all he knew. His memory had blanked out after his body stopped losing control, almost as if someone had gone in and wiped his mind - just like Hydra used to do.

That was why y/n was so vocal. If he'd been kidnapped by a random criminal group, he would've stayed in the bed and waited to find out who it was keeping him hostage. But this felt far too much like Hydra. Empty rooms, complete darkness, and no memory. He was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified. But y/n refused to let Hydra take control of him again. They'd stolen his whole childhood, he wasn't going to allow them to steal the rest of his life too. "Hello?!" Y/n yelled, his throat sore from all of the yelling, but he didn't plan on stopping anytime soon. He had to escape from Hydra and get back to Bucky.

Oh god. Bucky.

All he wanted was to be in his arms. He'd had such a horrible time during that mission, but seeing that corny smile would make everything feel better. Yes, they'd only just spent two days together, but y/n didn't care. If he could, he'd spend every hour of the day with Bucky. He could listen to him talk for hours on end, no matter the topic. He was the one that truly knew him, that truly understood him, and truly loved him.

Y/n's frustrated attitude seemed to drop slightly at the thought of Bucky, his hand subconsciously reaching up to his neck to touch his necklace. But it wasn't there, his hand was just met with empty skin. His necklace wasn't there. The necklace that matched with Bucky's. The one that he never took off. His breath hitched slightly as a few tears rolled down his cheeks, but he quickly wiped them away. Taking his necklace away was too far. Way too far.

Y/n took a shaky breath, his sad face shifting into one of anger. They could lock him in a cell, they could beat him up, but they weren't allowed to take something as important as that necklace. He stopped pacing, leaving himself to glare into the darkness. "Tell me what's going on!" He screamed, his fists clenched tightly in anger. Of course, there didn't seem to be a response. His voice simply echoed around the room. Yet that just seemed to fuel y/n even more. He wasn't going to lay down and give up.

But, before he could yell again, y/n got his answer.

The lights to the room suddenly turned on, filling the room with a harsh, blinding light that any normal person wouldn't be able to handle. Y/n almost jumped out of his skin as the room was suddenly flooded with light. He blinked hard in attempt to let his eyes adjust, but it was harder than it seemed. He'd been staring into the dark for hours. Y/n slowly scanned around the room, his heart seeming to drop at the fact that the room was scarier than he'd thought. Everything was white, seeming to worsen the already horribly bright lights. It all seemed clean, far too clean - like a nightmare inside a hospital. But there was one thing that stuck out the most, and that was the giant mirror across the wall.

His feet stayed rooted to the spot despite the curiosity to approach the mirror and get a better look at himself. Y/n wasn't stupid. He knew that it was probably a two-way mirror. There were no other cameras in the cell. It had to be. So, y/n resorted to staring at himself from a distance. God, he looked rough. Heavy bruising all across his body, bandaging, stitches, everything. It wasn't a pretty sight. He'd been roughed up from missions before, but nothing this bad. His eyes were a slight shade of red from the tears, but the fact that everything else in the room was white just seemed to amplify the redness. It almost looked like someone had poured some sort of chemical into his eyes.

"Hello, y/n." Bruce's voice suddenly chimed in over the speakers, causing y/n's eyes to widen in utter shock.

"Bruce?!"