"Speaking" is in Russian.

'Thinking' are thoughts.

"Speaking" is regular dialogue.


part one

. . .

"Just answer my question, and you'll make things easier on yourself." The Hydra agent told Darcy in a tone that was attempting to sound sympathetic, but it was hard for her to believe that he could possibly be on her side since he just pistol whipped her in the face for the second time that night.

Darcy spit out the clot of blood in her mouth that oozed from the open wound, and she let out a strained, pained groan. She'd long since lost her glasses, broken somewhere in the room from the first time he struck her face.

"I did answer your question." She hissed between bloodied teeth, "It's just not what you want to hear."

The Hydra supporting scumbag gave her a sympathetic click of his tongue, and he grabbed onto the wrench that was laying on the table next to some other, more menacing looking torture instruments.

"That's right." The guard agreed dryly. "Unfortunately, I have orders to take out the trash if it doesn't have anything valuable to say."

He patted the wrench in his hand in an ominous manner.

Darcy flinched, chains rattling against the concrete, keeping her restrained in the chair that they'd tossed her in. Her wrists were cuffed to the armrests, chains linked to the floor.

She wasn't going anywhere.

She clenched her eyes shut, because there was no denying the fact that she was scared as hell, but honestly, getting kidnapped by nazi loving freaks wasn't a situation that hasn't crossed her mind since she accepted Jane's offer to work at Stark Tower for her- really working, with a weekly paycheck and everything.

She knew the risks, she's experienced the risks after tagging along with Jane's search for Thor.

But this.. was a little extreme.

"Now, we know that you work alongside Dr. Foster, Ms. Lewis. And after Stark took care of our mole inside of his building, we've been left radio silenced on Ms. Fosters and Dr. Banner's research on keeping the Hulk's vital levels down while he's, you know." The Hydra scum had the audacity to smirk at her. "..Hulking out."

"I don't know!" Darcy snapped, frustration clear in her voice. She didn't even know Jane and Dr. Banner were doing experiments together. "And I'm not going to suddenly know, just because you keep repeating yourself!"

The Hydra guard's eyebrows rose in amusement, before dipping down into a deep, dark frown.

"That's unfortunate, Darcy." He told her gently, leaning forward so his face was right in front of her own. "Because I really didn't want to have to do this."

He raised the wrench up, and Darcy clenched her eyes shut when she felt the impact of him smashing the back of her right hand. She let out a loud, excruciating scream of agony as she stomped her feet on the ground with angry frustration.

"Fffff- son of a bitch!" Darcy snapped, teeth gnawing together. The Hydra scum took a step back, leaning down so he was in Darcy's face once again.

"Now, I'm going to ask you one more time." He spoke slowly, dropping the friendly act.

It wasn't working anyways. Darcy was pretty sure the 'friendly' act only worked if you didn't beat your hostage into submission.

She was in full on tears, throwing her head back as she tried to regain her composure, choking on her sobs.

"I said I don't-!"

The door slammed open, and Darcy began to cry even harder, because the last thing she wanted was for there to be more visitors to sit and watch her being tortured. She stomped her feet some more, writing in her seat in pain as the Hydra guard turned his attention away from her.

"What-" He said, speaking in Russian. "W-Winter-?"

Darcy's eyes snapped open when she heard the Hydra supporter being cut off with a loud grunt. The first thing she saw was the man who'd been torturing her getting kicked across the room with inhuman strength.

She jumped in her seat, the heavy chains rattling against the floor as she tried to moved around. She watched, confused and shocked when the Hydra agent pulled out his gun from it's holster, pointing the weapon at some topless, shaggy haired man with a metal arm.

"Stand down, Winter Soldier."

Darcy's watery gaze darted between the topless, sweaty man and the man who'd been torturing her.

She didn't know what the hell was going on, but as long as it kept her from getting wacked with that fucking wrench again, then she didn't mind the distraction.

The man- Winter Soldier? He was silent as he stared at the Hydra agent with a blank, unreadable look on his face. There was no recognition in his eyes, and Darcy froze when the disheveled man's gaze slid over to her, his lips pressing into a frown, before returning his blue hues to the Hydra lacky who'd placed his finger on the trigger of his gun, speaking in Russian now.

"Stand down, Winter Soldier. Whitehall will see to you soo-"

Darcy let out a startled shout when the shaggy haired man suddenly threw a quick, small blade at the guard, excellent marksmanship piercing him right between his eyes with the knife.

She began frantically tugging on her shackles, whimpering in pain each time the iron cuffs jolted against her right, broken hand.

"Please-" Darcy begged, and she was proud of the fact that she was speaking so steadily, because the pain she was in right now only made her want to scream out in agony each time she flexed her finger tips.

It was fucking torture.

She wasn't trained for this kind of situation. And she doubted Jane was, either.

Oh, Jane.

"I don't know anything." Darcy tried to reason with the topless soldier. "Please, just let me go."

She tugged at her left arm, wanting desperately to clutch her broken palm and nurse it against her chest, but the handcuffs were restricting her from doing so. The man eyed the guards body as it dropped to the floor, lifeless.

He then turned two shockingly blue sets of eyes onto her.

The girl was a brunette with green eyes flecked with blue, and she was weeping yet furious, and probably the most beautiful woman James had ever seen.

And it bothered him that this was something he knew for a fact, since he couldn't remember anything about himself at all.

Nothing. Bucky couldn't remember a thing. Not his name, or why the fact his left arm was made of metal.

Why the sounds of her screams from the lab right next door struck him like a cord.

Why he'd ignored his orders to stay in the chair- (he never ignored his orders) and watched as one of his guards interrogated the weak looking woman chained helplessly to her seat.

Instincts told him to help her.

Instincts told him to kill the guard.

"Okay," Bucky spoke to her gently, his voice deep and devoid of emotion as he knelt down in front of her so he could examine the chains.

Darcy tensed, clenching her eyes and fist shut when he crouched down near her. She hissed in pain when she accidentally flexed her broken palm.

"Shh-ittt." She drawled out, hissing between clenched teeth.

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to trust him. He just killed a man right in front of her eyes, even if the man he killed wasn't a very good man.

Darcy didn't know whether he'd be killing her next.

"Okay?" She repeated after a few moments of silence in disbelief, opening her eyes to look down at the Soldier. "Just like that? 'Okay'?"

Bucky gently grasped at the brunette's palm. It was bleeding and broken- he abruptly marched over to the dead bodyguard and picked up the gun. He then tore the fabric off the guards black sweater, tucking the gun into his belt and kneeling back in front of the injured brunette.

Darcy furrowed her eyebrows together, confused when he gently wrapped her broken hand with the fabric, using enough pressure that managed to ease the ache in her palm, even if only just a little bit. She looked up at him with wide, confused green eyes.

"I saw him put the key to my cuffs in his pocket," She pleaded, still not quite believing this man was really going to set her free.

Sure, he was hot, and topless, and had the saddest blue eyes she's ever seen- but he also had a metal arm, shaggy hair that reached his shoulders, and dark sleepless eyes. Now that she looked at him, he was more scary than hot.

Definitely more scary.

Still hot, but really fucking scary.

Suddenly, Bucky gripped the chains that were shackled into the ground and tore them with his bare hands- well, hand, and prosthetic metal hand, because she sill couldn't get over that.

(And she knew it was rude to stare, but damn, those scars where metal met joints looked like it hurt like hell.)

The sounds of loose, clinking chains hit the ground, and Bucky felt a sense of accomplishment upon setting the young woman free.

He didn't need to receive orders to know that this was the right thing to do. And if his orders told him to do otherwise.. well, then, his orders were not right.

Darcy hopped out of her seat, chains rattling behind her. Sure, he set her free, but she still had the cuffs locked around her wrist. She ran over to the guards dead body, a puddle of blood now leaking from his head, and Darcy dug into his pants pockets to pull out the key, stumbling with her left hand as she tried to unlock her unreliable, dominant right hand.

She refused to ask the metal-arm man for help- we've already established the fact that he's more scary than hot, and the fact that super strength could be added to that list of scary things about him.. it didn't really help things.

Finally after a short struggle, Darcy managed to unlock the chains with her left hand and very carefully with her right. The cuffs finally fell to the ground with a loud clang, and she released a sigh of relief, clutching her hand to her chest.

Her face still hurt from being pistol whipped by that dead body guard. Fucking prick. That's why he was dead now.

Crap, it actually didn't feel so good celebrating his quick demise.

Death was still death.

Darcy felt like she was going to be sick. She looked down at her hands, which was wrapped up so she didn't have to look at the grotesque, marred skin every time she looked down. It actually did make her feel a little better.

She shot a cautious look at the man who helped her, and Bucky was watching her every move with careful eyes.

The woman was wearing a white top, which had now been ruined with blood and tears.

Tight dark blue jeans and black boots. Her hair was disheveled, and her entire posture was on the defense. She was afraid of him, and she had every right to be.

Bucky could not remember a damn thing, but he knows he's done some terrible things in his life. Something was wrong with him. And for just a moment, Bucky was just as scared for the weak, innocent beautiful looking brunette.

"Who are you?" Darcy asked him, because she wasn't sure if he worked with SHIELD, or if he was a runaway hostage like herself, or.. what?

"They call me the Winter Soldier." He told her in that same monotonous tone.

She furrowed her eyebrows together, confused by his response.

"The Winter Soldier?" She repeated in an incredulous tone, before abruptly shaking her head. His lame 'superhero' nickname was the least of her worries right now.

He was watching her with cautious eyes, waiting to see what she would do next. Darcy couldn't understand what was going on, because if they were going to get out of here, shouldn't they leave like now, right now?

"Alrighty then, soldier. Are we- are you really going to help me out of here?" She was looking at him with green, expectant eyes.

Bucky already knew the answer before she'd ask- he'd do whatever she wanted. All he wanted in return was one thing.

"What is your name?" He asked her.

Darcy was surprised by his accent, it was Russian like she'd assume, but she could hear something American in there as well. She was also startled by his question.

"What? Oh- I'm- I'm Darcy. Thanks, by the way. You saved me from having to watch that man play whack a mole with my hands." She let out a short, pained laugh as she clutched her broken palm protectively against her chest.

"Is that what you want, Darcy?" Bucky asked the young woman, his eyes holding no deceit as he looked down at her.

Darcy nodded her head several times, taking an enthusiastic step towards the topless man.

"Yes, yes. please!" She wasn't above begging, especially if it meant this man was going to help her break out. "I'd honest to God, cross my heart, hope to die, promise to be your number one fan if you got me out of here." It was almost as though she were trying to egg him on.

His eyebrows raised in amusement, because her energy was really cute, really fucking cute, and he almost didn't want to let her go.

But he couldn't say no to her.

And this time, it wasn't because he was afraid of not following orders.

No, the Winter Soldier was afraid of seeing that beautiful face scrunch up in disappointment.

Plus, Bucky liked the thought of being her favorite guy in the whole world.

"Alright, Darcy. I'll help you out of here."

Darcy almost bounced from joy at his response, but she didn't because bouncing meant bumping her hand, and that was a big no no. Instead, the personal assistant to Dr. Jane Foster gave her savior the best smile she could manage with her battered face.

"Awesome stuff." Was her so very intelligent, cheeky response. "Lets get out of this shit hole."

Bucky launched forward to help her walk once he realized she was limping. Darcy quickly lifted her uninjured hand, waving him away when he tried to wrap an arm around the smaller girls shoulder.

The Winter Soldier frowned, because he could tell she was still frightened of him. He wouldn't push her limits, not wanting to scare her more.

Darcy slowly limped over towards the exit, the Soldier only just a few steps in front of her. There was something that was bugging her.

"Hey, how did you manage to break free anyways?" She asked, wincing as she tried to ignore the throb in her thigh that shot sharp jolts of pain through her body with each step. "I bet they had you locked up even worst than me. How'd you get out?"

Soldier peered over his soldier, ocean blue eyes piercing into her unsuspecting ones as he gave her a genuine answer.

"I heard you. You were begging for him to stop."

Darcy couldn't explain why she suddenly felt embarrassed, and she clutched her aching hand to her chest as she shyly avoided her gaze.

"I, um.. Uh, well.." She stammered idiotically, "Thanks, man. These.. these people are nuts. I thought Captain America took care of Hydra anyways- I bet that's what they're still teaching in classes. Fucking America. You can't even begin to understand how much I miss New Mexico-"

She was rambling to herself, and the Winter Soldier didn't respond, instead freezing outside of the doorway once he stepped into the hall.

Darcy noticed Soldier's tense demeanor, and she froze in the doorway as well, realizing what he must of been staring at. She followed his gaze, and groaned once she realized she was right.

A group of armed Hydra guards.

"Shit." Darcy cursed.

"Ah, Winter Soldier. I heard you were causing a ruckus. It's so rare for you to have an outburst like this. You've even gone and killed one of my men. You know what this means. We must start from scratch."

The soldier protectively tucked Darcy behind his back.

This man, he remembered. Whitehall, he was the man who gave him orders. This was the man who could make him have no control over his body. This was the man who wiped his memory over and over again.

Darcy watched as the Winter Soldier reached for his gun. She couldn't understand what was going on, they were slipping between English and Russian far too quickly for her to get a clue, but it didn't take a genius to figure out they were in trouble.

"Take a deep breath" Dr. Whitehall spoke to the Soldier in a strong, determined voice. "And clear your mind. Surrender, and you will find meaning. Surrender, and you will find release."

Darcy watched, startled by how the Soldier's metal arm froze in it's descent to retrieve his gun. He suddenly relaxed, resting his hand at his side. Darcy jumped back in fear.

"No!" She cried out, trying to get the Winter Soldier's attention. "What are you doing!?"

Whitehall's gaze flickered to the battered brunette woman, before repeating his brainwashing mantra in Russian.

"Take a deep breath, and clear your mind. Surrender, and you will find meaning. Surrender and you will find release. You know what is best. What is best is that you comply."

Darcy watched, horrified as the Winter Soldier seemed to be giving into this Hydra superiors words, and she felt bone chilling fear when she realized she was on her own once again.

Whitehall gave his man a look over, before announcing to his agents. "The Winter Soldier has returned to us." He then turned his attention to Soldier, and Darcy slinked further back into the room, anywhere would be better than right there.

"Winter, why don't you go take a seat in your chair, yes?" Dr. Whitehall asked the Soldier in a tone that held no question.

The Winter Soldier didn't respond, wordlessly turning down the hall and back into the lab which was right next door.

Darcy was against the back wall now as she watched the Hydra leader standing in the door way, arms crossed behind his back, giving er a curious look.

"We will keep the girl alive, for now. I think we have stumbled upon a fascinating discovery. It appears to me, the Soldier has a strange connection with this one. We shall experiment and see."

And with that, Dr. Whitehall turned around and slammed Darcy's cellroom shut, locking her inside, alone in the dark with the dead body just a few feet away from her.

She slunk down to the ground, bringing her knees to her chest. She cradled her broken hand, which was wrapped neatly in the black cloth that Soldier made for her.

She definitely didn't get paid enough for this.