Recollection ★ Bucky Barnes

What is Дело №18?

The pain in Marlena's head was almost unbearable. It was far worse than any other headache she had ever experienced, and for someone who received quite possibly the worst migraines from time to time, that was saying a lot.

Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with almost immediate darkness. The surface she lay on was cold, cold enough that she could feel it through her leather jacket. She grunted and pushed herself into a sitting position, doing her best to ignore the lightheaded sensation wracking her body. She looked around the room in an attempt to figure out where she could possibly be and why she was where she was, but she couldn't see anything through the darkness.

As the pain in her head began to subside, her thoughts became easier to comprehend. A wave of fear swept through her body as she remembered what had happened, and the first thing to come to her mind was Bucky. She was now more than aware that Hydra had taken her, but the only thing she cared about was Bucky. She feared that they had found him and taken him too, and that was possibly her worst fear at the moment.

She didn't want Bucky to be forced to live the life of the Winter Soldier again—she didn't want Hydra to take his life away from him again. He was just now getting it back, and she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she let them take it away again. She would sooner turn herself over to Hydra if that meant Bucky was able to be free from them. He deserved better than Hydra, and Marlena was willing to do whatever it took in order for him to have it.

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd wake," a voice sounded, startling Marlena. She backed herself into a wall, irritating her semi-healed spinal injury. She looked around the dark room once more, but saw nothing and no one.

"Who are you?" Marlena asked, her eyes darting through the darkness for any sign of movement.

She heard a deep chuckle come from the opposite end of the room, and the next thing she knew she was blinded with light from what seemed to be coming from the hallway. The large metal door hit the wall behind it with a bang, the loud noise making Marlena jump slightly.

"You don't recognize me? I'm so hurt," the man chimed as he stepped further into the room.

Once Marlena managed to get her vision back under control, she focused her attention on the man in front of her. His face was covered with what looked to be burn marks, his dark hair looked to be slightly singed, but it was styled flawlessly nonetheless. Marlena assumed him to be close to or in his mid-forties, but the scars on his face made it hard to determine. Also, his body structure suggested that he was much younger, but Marlena knew enough to know better. Because of the army, her dad had acquired a rather built body structure—much like the man in front of her—and because of that he looked much younger than the forty-year old man that he was.

Marlena did recognize this man, though, but the first time she recalled seeing him he was without the scars. It confused her and frightened her all the same.

"You're the guy who hit me in the head with the gun," she stated, rubbing the tender area where the weapon had made contact with her head.

The man chuckled again and leaned against the wall. "Yes, I am."

"You look different though," Marlena said warily. "You didn't have those scars on your face when you showed up at my house."

"That's because I was wearing a shit ton of makeup, darlin'," he informed her. "It was to prevent frightening whoever answered the door at your house."