Chapter Text
Chapter 1: First Shoot - missed.
“Steve!” Falcon shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation, but it was already too late. Captain America was gone, running into a bunker full of HYRDA’s soldiers. Falcon wanted to shout again, but sudden shots in his direction successfully redirected his attention.
It was insane, this whole plan Steve came up with, but who he was to decline Captain America’s request for help? Sam cursed when a bullet passed millimeters from his left ear, and then again when a second hostile agent began to aim for his wings.
For a brief moment, he searched for Captains America’s blue uniform, for his shining shield, or even enemies falling, but he could no longer see him. Steve was gone, his mind set on a mission and it made him reckless – although Sam had thought Steve was reckless since the Helicarrier ordeal. What soldier runs into building full of enemies without his back covered? Without any good back-up plan? Sam was the only one besides Natasha--who wasn’t here right now--that knew about this stupidity, who agreed for this stupidity to happen, and he regretted it the second they saw the bunker.
It was hard for him to fly. Russian air was cold, almost too cold to breathe even through the warm woolen scarf he had around his neck and mouth. The wind was growing stronger and stronger, bringing more snow with each blowing gust. He could barely see through the white flurries and his ski goggles weren’t providing much help either.
Falcon flew higher, avoiding another volley of shots and smoothly turned left, dodging three more bullets. Yet a fourth bullet whizzing by managed to scratch his wing and unbalanced him enough to change his flying course and he nearly crashed into a tree. Russians were good. Natasha wasn’t lying or exaggerating anything, but they weren’t better than him that much was certain. He’d dealt with worse in his life – trying to buy a ticket for the Super Bowl for a good price was one task that seemed near impossible, yet he managed that – and he wasn’t planning to die in some shithole in the middle of nowhere in Russia. Not a chance. He wasn’t going to let Captain America die either, it would be even worse than dying himself. For one thing what would he tell Fury?
Sam instead focused on his job, reached for his guns and began to return fire. It was hard to aim properly with the snowstorm approaching, but he did what he could while ducking and dodging. His wings rattled on the wind and for the first time in his career as Falcon, he doubted his toys would survive such extreme conditions.
Suddenly there was a powerful explosion that shook the ground and when he looked in its direction he saw dark smoke rising from the bunker. He cursed again, louder than before and his throat protested, but this wasn’t the time for being polite. Taking his chance, he shot two agents when he saw they were distracted from the explosion. When their co-workers fell dead on the snow, the remaining four enemy agents focused on Falcon again.
It didn’t seem like he was making any progress, desperately trying not to get killed while trying to kill the enemy Russians first. Only when one of the agents ran out of ammunition did Falcon take another gamble. Turning sharply, he flew down with a frightful speed, cold wind freezing the exposed parts of his face, and with full force kicked out two of the men upon collision.
“Falcon: 4 – Bad Guys: 0,” he muttered to himself and smiled behind his scarf. Now that he was back on the ground, things became a bit harder. He wasn’t able to see his enemies as well as when he was in the air. On the other hand, that meant his enemies couldn’t see him either and it gave him the advantage he needed right now.
With his head lowered and trying to make as little noise as possible, he flitted from one snowdrift to another. His wings still clattered, but the sound was muffled by the merciless wind and for once he was grateful. It took him another ten minutes, occasionally interrupted by desperate shots, to approach his enemies from the back and kick them out as well.
Not surprised that the men weren’t that difficult of targets – his true enemy, the one he couldn’t fight, was the weather. Falcon, though wearing the warmest clothes he ever saw, was freezing to the point he couldn’t feel his face and his fingers. It wasn’t good and he knew that, and he hoped against hope that Cap was all right.
Without thinking much more on his own misery, Falcon flew over to the entrance of the bunker. He furled his metal wings – now covered with ice – and walked in.
The corridor was narrow and dark and here and there he saw broken fluorescent lamps lighting grey walls painted with blood and corpses on the ground, only for the scant light to go out in mere seconds. Honestly, if Sam didn’t know better, if he didn’t know that all of this was Captain America’s work and that they were on a mission, he would think he was stuck in some B-rated horror movie with too much violence for it to be real and convincing. The only thing missing here would be some monster– he stopped his thoughts here, because yes, yes they have a monster, but of different nature. They were going through this Hell for that particular monster also known as Winter Soldier aka ‘he was my friend, Sam! I had to take him back!’
Sam’s footsteps echoed in the corridor and it made him even more aware of the dead men on the floor. He moved carefully, not wanting to step on someone’s hand or leg or even worse, head. They might be dead or on the edge of dying, but he had some respect, even for his enemies. The other part of him, the one that was raised on war, didn’t want to stumble and make unnecessary noise. He shushed that part, not only because he hated it, but because he thought he could hear something.
He froze in place not daring to breathe, simply straining to listen.
Muffled sounds came to him, not far away from him as far as he could tell. He checked his guns – he didn’t have much ammunition but it should be enough considering he had also his combat skills. And judging by the Russians he saw so far – bloody and unmoving – he was sure Captain America took care of the worst of HYDRA.
It didn’t calm him of course it just made him more worried. With so many enemies it was impossible for Steve to not get injured during his fights. He saw bullet holes in the walls which meant there was a possibility that even one bullet reached its target. With that thought spurring him, he hurried down the corridor.
Voices soon grew closer and closer and after few more steps he was able to hear what they were talking about. It was a surprise to hear Steve--so angry it seemed unreal, almost alien in a way. He had never heard such hatred in Captain America, not that he’d known him for very long, but even so, it wasn’t something one imagined when envisioning the patriotic super soldier, whose natural look seemed to always be wearing a smile.
“What did you do to him?!” Steve was yelling. Falcon stopped at the corner. He didn’t know why, maybe because of his instincts, but he didn’t want to be seen. Not yet. He wanted to hear first what this all was about.
“He’s only a dog,” another voice said, husky and jerky, uneven breaths made his words almost unrecognizable. “It is all he ever was and it’s all he'll ever be, Captain. This is your truth! He needs a Master. Without it he’s only a rabid hound, wild and uncontrollable. Mad.”
The man chuckled fanatically and coughed a few times and Sam had to roll his eyes because of how old-fashioned it was. He watched enough cartoon villains to know that. But Steve wasn’t amused, the words made him only angrier, furious.
“It is not the truth!” He protested, but Sam could hear his hope cracking and it frightened him more than he wanted to admit. What would break Captain America’s faith like that? What was so horrible to bring someone as optimistic and hopeful to a state like this?
“Look at him–,” another cough, then the voice again, “look at this beaten dog! He knows where his place is! At the feet of HYDRA!”
Falcon heard the sound of breaking bones and flinched, imagining what happened to the evil guy. Only after a few seconds he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and began to move again. He had to make sure Steve was all right or at least in good enough shape to take their asses as far away from here as it was possible.
They still had to call Natasha for an extraction.
When he walked up to the room, hands lifted, so Cap wouldn’t take him for an enemy by accident – it happens when you’re in war – he wasn’t prepared to see what he saw. He choked on his own breath and couldn’t avert his eyes from the sight.
“Is this–” he began, but couldn’t finish, words stuck in his suddenly dry throat.
In front of him, crouched in the corner of the room, was a naked, beaten Winter Soldier. He had never seen a man tortured like that. Violet and yellow from the bruises that seemed to be everywhere, eyes blindfolded and arms tied up behind his back. And was that– was that a collar around his neck?
When he looked closer he choked again, because it wasn’t just a collar some sick old bastard would put on someone’s else neck, it was a fucking shock collar and all Sam wanted to do was to kill everyone responsible for this. Yet, his eyes still analyzed their situation. Amongst bruises, there were scratches, abrasions and cuts, some deep to dangerous level.
Whoever did this to the Winter Soldier didn’t want to kill him but to torment him, so much was painfully clear to Sam and judging by Steve’s face: him too.
“Steve?” he asked, unsure of what he wanted to say. They had to take Barnes from here, to somewhere safe and find him a discreet doctor and psychiatrist as well. It was definitely easier said than done, because with every word they said, the Winter Soldier flinched or began to tremble like frightened rabbit.
Sam looked at his companion, question in his eyes would he let us approach?
Steve shook his head; he had no clue as well. Shit. Shit. What should they do? He never had a course about what to do with torture victims. As far as he knew they should take him away from this place and then let specialist take care of him. But there were some obvious obstacles. This was the Winter Soldier, the same one that almost helped aid the death of 20 million or more innocent people. The very same that almost killed Fury and the very same that almost killed Captain America. Will he try to kill them all if they decide to trust them? Will he stick to his last mission, like a loyal soldier? The second problem of a different nature was named Steve Rogers and somehow Falcon doubted that the Captain would let go of his old friend no matter what happened.
The silence was prolonging and it was clear that James was freaking out more and more with each passing second. Sam took a deep breath and looked at the Captain. Rogers seemed to stand frozen, only his fingers twitching. His eyes were too focused on the naked body in the corner.
“Okay,” Sam breathed out, a bare whisper but it startled Barnes all the same. “Okay, I’ll take care of him Cap. I’ll do that. He’ll be safe I promise, but you need to go now. Call Natasha. Tell her to pick us up as fast as she can. Ask if she knows any good doctors that could help us.”
At first he thought his words didn’t make it to the Captain’s stunned mind, but then he moved rapidly and nodded his understanding. He shot one last look to his abused friend and left the room as quickly as possible.
Sam sighed deeply, how had his life become such a mess?
Slowly, not wanting to frighten Bucky even more, he walked up to him then bent over – and that was his first mistake. A shadowing figure over him seemed to trigger some automatic reaction in the Winter Soldier. He whined to Sam’s horror and lowered himself, his head touching the ground, his collared neck exposed.
What did that sick bastard say earlier? That the Winter Soldier was trained like a dog.
Sam swallowed and then gathered all his strength. It needed to be done one way or another and right now he didn’t want to stress Barnes any more than it was necessary. So he kneeled in front of him and as gently as he could – with a trembling hand – touched the other’s hair. Barnes froze in his spot; stopped breathing as well and Sam cursed himself.
“Easy,” he said, slowly rubbing tangled hair, “easy boy. I’m going to take care of you now.”
In some sick way, his words did wonders to the Winter Soldier. Maybe it was an automatic response, but he relaxed against Sam’s hand. Aside from that he remained still and silent, compliant.
“Good,” he muttered and he already hated himself for doing this. “Can you stand up? Nod or shake your head, it’s all right. There’s no wrong answer here.”
For a moment Barnes was tense again, but then he nodded weakly. Sam took it as he wasn’t sure if he could but he was willing to try. It was good enough in his books, so Sam stood up and only then realized he hadn’t pulled off the blindfold yet.
The Winter Soldier rose to his feet as well. It was a shaky process however, probably because his legs were all pins and needles from being in the same position for so long. Sam put his hand in the other’s hair again and this time nearly smiled with relief when Barnes didn’t flinch and instead leaned to meet Sam’s hand with his cheek. He rubbed tender skin for a short while before he removed the blindfold.
“It’s okay,” he said when he saw Barnes desperately clenching his eyes shut. “It’s okay, you can see everything now. You can see me.”
“Woof-woof,” the Soldier barked, his voice strained, his posture all tense again.
Sam was too shocked to breathe, trying to understand what was before his eyes. Did that really happen? Did they train a human being to bark like a dog? To act like a dog? Frightened dog, his mind added and Sam suddenly wanted all HYDRA agents alive so he could kill them personally. And he wouldn’t be so nice as to only shoot them in the heads.
Barnes began to suddenly breathe faster, gasping for air, and Sam thought it was his fault – he was silent for too long, he screwed this up. With an instant, he pressed his hand against Soldier’s cheek and then moved it to his hair, began to rub them again in what he hoped was a soothing manner.
“Shhh,” he murmured, his own voice trembling. “Shhh, you’re good, you’re good. You can open your eyes, you’re allowed to. No one will hurt you for this, I promise you. I am the one taking care of you here.”
It was an uncertain, timid move, but finally – thank God for that! – Bucky opened his eyes. The second he saw Sam he froze, then within a moment he was pressed hard against the wall, shaking and looking at him with wide, fearful eyes.
Oh fuck, Sam thought, he recognized me from the Helicarrier.
Sam moved forward and that was it, he knew he lost the man. Barnes began to panic, his breaths were coming in short, faster and faster and Sam wanted to panic too, but he had to pull himself together for the sake of Bucky and Steve.
“Quiet!” He said, without really thinking about it. His voice was firm as he gave a command. “Quiet. Behave yourself. Sit and stay.”
It worked. It fucking worked and Sam didn’t know if he should be relieved or frightened but either way, his stomach wanted to return its dinner. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world for doing it, but it worked. Barnes managed to calm himself enough to catch a good breath and sit down or more likely kneel at his feet.
Sam took a deep breath too then petted the Soldier’s head, praising him.
“Good. I’ll be back in a minute. Stay where you are. Be good for me,” he said as firmly as he could, his voice almost breaking at the end. Then, faster than he thought was possible, he ran out of the room.
Captain America was sitting outside of the bunker, his knees bent, head between them. His hands were shaking. Sam wanted to do exactly the same and wait for Natasha, let her handle Barnes, but it wouldn’t be fair.
“Cap--,” he began and stopped abruptly. “Steve. Steve we need to talk,” he said, it was so hard to speak right now. He could feel the gulp in his throat and it physically hurt him.
“How is he, Sam?” Steve asked, his voice shaking as well.
“He reacts to dog commands,” he said and took another deep breath. He didn’t know if he was frightened or furious, if he was disgusted or shaken to the core. Maybe he was all of it, but Barnes needed someone collected enough to lead him out of here, to take care of him.
Steve remained still for another minute, no one said anything and then the Captain was on his feet. With the blink of an eye he was standing next to the thick bunker wall and he began punching it. Once, twice, thrice. His fist was bleeding, some fingers probably broken, but he didn’t stop for another six hits.
Sam waited, overwhelmed by all of this. When Steve calmed himself enough to look at him, Falcon walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Pull yourself together for God’s sake,” he said, clenching his hand so tight it would have been painful for normal people. “He needs you. He needs us both and Natasha. You came here to take him back home and now you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.”
Steve looked him in the eyes then and Sam saw there were tears of frustration, desperation and fear. Sam managed to smile – it was more a grimace really, the corners of his mouth were twitching – but it helped a little. Steve touched his hand and squeezed.
“I won’t leave you, buddy,” Sam said and turned his head towards the bunker. “We shouldn’t let him be alone more than necessary, Cap. He’ll be afraid. And–,” he paused suddenly unsure of what he wanted to say. Mostly of how badly Steve would react but then Steve surprised him.
“And you think it would be better to treat him like a dog for now,” he said quietly. Sam looked at him and for the first time didn’t see a hero or super-soldier but a man tired of living, of carrying his own baggage of shitty experiences, problems and traumas.
“Yeah. For now, Cap. For now.”
“I hope.”