Shield

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I own nothing

The muted softness of orange light becomes trapped within the steely depth of pale blue-gray eyes; Bucky presses the bare and scarred planes of his back against the wall—allowing long strands of chestnut to veil over his still gaze and drapes over his smooth jaw. In disarray, he furrows his forehead against the encroaching tension building in his skull and he explores the shadows —looking beyond the red darkness and the tantalizing void of Hydra.

He shivers involuntarily as familiar coldness and hardened remorse sears deep in his rigid bones—guilt condemns him, twisting and piercing his frozen heart like a forged and molten dagger.

"I didn't mean.." Bucky murmurs out in a scarce whisper, conviction scrapes against his lungs as he tastes a copper tang seep down the raw walls of his throat. He refuses to ease the pain—he wants to feel punished.

Coughing aloud, he rasped, "I never intended to offend anyone." his voice cracks as he grinds his face into his knees and allows tears to streak down the chiseled lines of his feverish, full cheeks.

"I never meant to do those things—" He screws his eyes shut, sealing off the smoldering tears; he becomes haunted by unknown grief. The stirring in the murky depths of his soul swallows up the soldier's grace and replaces the fabrics of his existence with layers of crimson—the defining and inhumane colors of Hydra.

Bucky parts his soft, full lips, shaking his body against the wall—he panics to a great extent as his heart races and his skin turn into ice. "What have I done—he snarls, his voice raw and deep. He wipes the tears off his face, and stares intently down at his metal fingers—his reward for doing all of the dirty work—for allowing blood of innocent people stain over his hands. "I don't deserve this life—-I don't deserve to live…" He gruffly wails out, feeling the prickly needles anguish inject icy fury into his veins. "I'm not a soldier… I'm not even a man…" He grits his teeth into a fierce scowl. I'm just a weapon—-A monster."

Bucky lowers his face into his hands; pulling at the roots of his dark and matted hair, he unleashes his aggression and starts to grip at his metal arm—threatening to tear the bionic limb off—he wants to feel like James Buchanan Barnes again. He wants to feel like a normal human being, no longer like a programmed, terminating machine responding to the harsh and inhuman commands of his handlers.

He clenches his jaw tight, making his gums numb, his vision starts to swim in a red haze as he allows his teary blue eyes to drift over a circular shape at his feet—the gleaming symbol of courage, strength and power against the ills of evil—the vibranium alloied shield of Captain America.

"I remember this thing," He muffles out a breath, his expression becomes neutral in the flickers of shadow and light.

Cautiously, Bucky reaches his metal hand down and lifts up the shield, holding it against the light. A memory emerges from the deep recesses of his mind."Steve always carried it with him during our missions."

A light smile manages to crack over his lips, his fingers absently move over the dents and scuffed marks on the rare metal—the colors of red and blue are fading but the white star is still untouched by age.

"I knew you would remember it, Buck." The stern and gentle voice of Steve Rogers wafts in the air, Bucky shifts his glistening blue eyes and stares directly at him—he leans against the door frame, wearing a white shirt with the insignia of SHEILD in the center and jeans.

"It was because of this old thing—you fell off the train." His voice suddenly becomes a pitch lower and he narrows his head. "I tried to save you from falling… I was so close to reaching out for your hand."

Bucky bites down hard on his lip, gazing at his friend's sullen chiseled and commanding features darken with grief.

"It wasn't your fault, Steve…" he pauses, feeling a dull ache in his chest. He slowly straightens to his bare feet and inches closer to the super soldier and he holds out the shield. "You need to stop living in the past so you can go to the future." He says in a scratchy tone, fighting against his sore throat.

Steve lifts his head up, his deep blue eyes filling with hidden and remorseful pain, his large hands grasp over the smooth rim of his shield. "I thought I lost you, Buck—I spent everyday searching for you—until I crashed the plane into the ice."

"Did you finally find me, Steve?" Bucky asks with a weak smile, his blue eyes brightens with familiar warmth as he searches for the truth in his best friend's gaze. "Or am I still lost?"

Steve shook his head silently and drops the shield to the floor, he gives Bucky a big and watery smile. "No, Buck… I found you." He answers back, crashing his strong body against Bucky and wraps his broad arms around the dark-haired man's shoulders—holding him tightly, forearms constrict around his friend —feeling him melt against him.

Bucky narrows his watery blue eyes up at the shield by their feet. "I knew my captain would save me…" He whispers, resting his chin on Steve's shoulder.

Steve clamps his eyelids shut, "I'm not your captain, Buck, " he manages to say against the tears."I'm your friend. That's all I will ever be. Now and forever."

Bucky curves the edges of his lips into a heart melting smile, he slowly moves his metal hand up and wraps it over Steve's back. He closes his eyes and feels the soul of James Barnes slowing being awaken by the soothing benevolence of a friend—-a blood brother.

"I guess we were both lost in the ice, pal," he says against a tapestry of his friend's unconditional love emanating into his frozen bones. "But now we've found each other again."

Steve doesn't answer, he only tightens his embrace and holds Bucky against him—not letting him become lost once more.