For morethanashield

[disassembling]

Who: James "Winter Soldier" Barnes & Steve "Captain America" Rogers
When: Months after initial capture
What: AU - Both Steve and Bucky fell from the train. Both were captured and forced into service of HYDRA as their weapons to shape the world.
Warnings: Maybe violence?


The pain was momentarily numbed, though it would return along with his orientation of his surroundings now that the days experimentations were over. For the first time, he was stable enough to be moved from being trapped and monitored in the medical wing (he assumed it had a name though didn't know it) and shifted to the cells where only a guard was required to keep watch over numerous subjects in their small cages side-by-side. The room was kept colder than normal to prevent them from moving around much or thinking too hard about escaping.

His head was fuzzy and his vision wavered as he was settled down in the middle of his new cell. There were whispers (always were), but his head was too drained of anything to grasp onto any one detail. This was a test apparently. Perhaps to see if he could survive the rigors of the illusion of freedom in a small cold cage left to his own devices. They left, clicking the door shut with too much noise that he twitched where he lay.

At first he lay on his right side just drinking in the air, orienting himself on one aspect of his surroundings before adding another. He allowed his ears to focus next, the sounds of moaning prisoners, the mutter of a disgruntled cold guard making rounds, the shuffle of cold experiments trying to find that one warm place that didn't exist. His sense of touch was next, feeling the rough cement under his arm, and the cold wash of sensation from the left side of his body where heavy bandages covered some recent modification to where his arm should be. At last, he allowed his eyes to pick out things, but it was the current weakest of his senses, fallible and blurry as he dragged himself across the floor.

He didn't know where he was going, didn't know he was being watched keenly for what direction he chose to go when there were four options for him. One had no other prisoner, the other three did. He pulled himself towards the right, and though he didn't know it, towards where they were all very excited that he would go. To him. He nestled against the bars in the corner, breathing hard from the excursion but slowly curling up. There was a source of familiarity nearby. He chose to be close to it.

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<3

[disassembling]

His eyebrows drew together at the words in his Commander, but it seemed to be an acceptable response despite the fact that he suspected he was malfunctioning. Now was neither the time or the place to do so, and he felt like this moment between them was a once in a lifetime opportunity like when he was introduced to a vintage weapon to make a specific kill with it.

However, he was too 'robotic' to be able to hide his malfunctions well. It was part of his design but also seemed to make him 'less' than the Commander. He was coldly efficient with assassinations, especially the ones that were made to look like accidents or leave no trace. His robotic black and white perception made him well versed in doing what he was supposed to with the least amount of supervision. He also was heartless towards those that were unfortunate enough to work alongside with him.

Except the Commander. The Commander was his exception, though he would never know it.

"I am a weapon, and I go where a weapon is most needed. My part in the future is to remove obstacles, but I will probably not be part of it once my job is done. I will be put to cold again. Perhaps I will not be woken again," he said, shaking his head a little. His arms instead tightened on the Commander.

The humming softened him, and he nestled against the Commander's chest, soothed and letting the strange malfunctioning mood seep from his bones. He took in a deep breath and released it very slowly.

[morethanashield]

He waited until the other weapon had settled in his arms, breathing normally, no longer humming with vibrating tension. Then he moved to gently guide him the last ten feet to the rendezvous point. Those last ten feet were important. Though they would doubtless have been noticed where they stood now, the disparity between where they were and where they should be would also have been noticed by their handlers. Questions would be asked about why they had willfully waited where they were not supposed to, questions he did not want to answer. Better to eliminate the need for questions and undue stress at all.

And so they would be picked up exactly where they were expected to be picked up. The mission was reported as a colossal success as they were transported back to headquarters for debriefing and, inevitably, for storage.

He knew it was coming as well as the Soldier did. But he wouldn't take his arms from around the other weapon for as long as he was permitted to hold him. As long as it kept them both quiet, he would be allowed.

There would be other missions in the meantime - some they undertook separately, some together, while other assassins and agents of rival organizations whispered of them like children of mosnters under the bed.

Until, at long last, they would finally be allowed out once more to ensure the completion of HYDRA's ambitions...