Oh Suzannah, Don't You Cry For Me

Chapter Twenty-Five: North Star

Chapter Twenty-Five: North Star

A cold, sharp needle pierces his skin. Liquid flows into his veins, icy cold and burning hot all at once. Pain flares in his veins, lighting up every nerve on a warpath of destruction as it pumps through him.

He tries to fight it, to move away from the hand clasped on his upper arm, but a thick strap across his chest holds him down. He can't move his legs or arms. He can't move anything. He can't get away.

"Stop," he begs. "Please."

A round face wearing thick glasses peers down at him. The man smiles without any warmth and mutters something unintelligible.

"What are you doing to me?" he asks, but the man does not answer.

Another jab, this time in his left arm. He watches through blurry vision as a syringe fills with dark red blood—his blood. Somehow, it's worse, having a part of him taken without his consent.

"Stop! No!"

He can't move. He can't breathe. The light above him flickers, and the man readjusts the angle. The leather straps dig into his skin and cut at his exposed wrists. It constricts him like a fierce serpent.

"Please!"

Bucky.

He strains against the binds tethering him to the cold, metal table. The lights blind him, and the round-faced man appears again in his line of sight.

Bucky, calm down.

He won't calm down. He wants out. He wants it to stop. It hurts, and hurts, and hurts...

Bucky. Hey.

The man pats his face and slides another needle into his arm. It pinches as it breaches his skin and punctures a vein.

It's okay. Just breathe.

"No! Stop!"

Just breathe, Buck.

He's so cold. It's cold and it hurts and he can't move...

He can't move. Fighting isn't helping, there is nothing he can do. It's pinning him down, down, down.

Bucky, it's okay.

The man with the glasses smiles again and reaches for another needle.

His veins burn. His head hurts. His heart threatens to burst from his chest. He can't breathe. And he can't stop the needle hovering above him, threatening to...

"No!" Bucky wakes with a shout and jolts upright. His head knocks against Steve's chin, who leans backward with an "oof."

His chest heaves as he sucks in gulps of air. He's sweating and shaking and numb.

"It's okay," Steve says. He places a hand on Bucky's back and untucks Bucky's sleeping bag away from his arms.

His hands now free from the confines of the soft sleeping bag, Bucky rubs his eyes with his palms and gathers his composure. He notices he had somehow moved from his side of the tent to smush up against Steve.

"Another nightmare?" Steve asks.

"Yeah," Bucky mutters. He accepts the bottle of water Steve offers. The water is cold and washes away the lump in his throat. His skin still tingles in the elbows where the needles had pierced.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Steve hums in disapproval.