Pierdut(lost)

P R I E T E N

(please vote and comment!-much love)

•friend•

/frend/

•1•
a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations.

"Bucky?"
***

Steve stepped forward, hand itching to reach forward and check to see if he wasn't hallucinating. His friend was here! Just when he was going to save him, it turned out that he didn't even have to. But Bucky looked heartbreakingly terrified. "Do you know me, Bucky?" Steve whispered calmly. His friend's eyes darted toward the door. "Why do you keep calling me that?" His voice scratchy from disuse. "What? Bucky?" Steve stopped in a small bit of shock. The man nodded, looking a bit like kicked puppy. "Well, it's your name! James Buchanan Barnes. But you didn't answer my question. Do you remember me?" Steve remarked, flabbergasted by the amount his pal was talking. Bucky stared, then nodded again slowly. "You're Steve." He rasped. Steve nodded slowly, allowing a few tears to roll down his face.

"Well don't just stand there. We have to get you hidden somewhere! I never know when Natasha or Sam will break in." He said, turning from his friend's intense stare to check the windows and double lock the doors. Bucky sat bewildered, watching his platonic soulmate flutter around. He slowly rose from his seat, hissing as he attempted to use his metal arm, which was whirring haphazardly. Steve turned to him and his eyes flicked to the damaged appendage. "What's wrong with it?" Steve asked, assuming it was a sensitive topic for his friend. Bucky managed to emit a grunt of pain. "It's busted." He growled, voice hissing through his clenched teeth. Steve nodded before grabbing for his phone. Bucky's eyes widened, before grabbing and crushing his phone. Steve's heart stopped. "Don't call him. He won't help and you know that." Bucky said, dropping the phone on the table.

***
As Steve laid down that night, his mind mulled over the man in his living room. His long lost right hand-or left hand-man was right in his own residence! The thought made Steve blush in excitement. He sat there, imagining all of the things that he and Bucky could do together, just like old times.

Except, Steve thought, its not like old times. He sat up in his bed, shirt off and flushed. That's Bucky. My Bucky. But at the same time, it's not. That Bucky in that room wasn't the Bucky from the past who would twirl and dip his little Stevie into the night, sleep with him in bed to warm his frail body and whisper hot breaths into his ear when he'd had too much to drink. But he wasn't the Winter Soldier either. This was all too confusing. Steve laid back down, half of the covers on the other side of his large queen-size bed.

*Bucky's Perspective*

"Mission report, солдат." тренер spit in my face. I blankly gazed at him and flinched as he slammed his hand on the restraints near my arm. "Mission successful." I mumbled. He nodded. Then, faster than I could blink, he yanked my hair up, getting up close to my face. "Answer me when I ask." He growled, spitting in harsh Russian. I stared back. He let go, then smiled. "Doesn't even matter, солдат. You're going back under anyway." He hissed, stalking away. As he left, three soldiers like me entered, following seven or so scientists.

"No." I whispered. The soldiers pushed me back, strapping my flesh arm down. "No! No,no,no!!" I screamed. Three very familiar black arms closed down on my face and the chair reclined. Tears started to stream down my face. I knew what was coming next. "Please, no." I cried. But they didn't listen. They never, ever, ever, ever listened to me.