[Bucky doesn't feel like there's enough of him to build anything, too small, too few to sew back together, but he trusts Sam more than himself and they've come back from everything so far. Huddling down behind Sam's shields feels wrong. He's a born fighter, came into the world kicking and screaming, and what is he now? A broken man, little more. Shame presses too hot against his throat, but the gears continue to work without interruption.
A mechanical groan echoes through the shared mind space as steel bends, as teeth contort and finally- finally- the gear slides free. Make no decisions on his own. Seek out his handler. Violence does not belong on the list of options. Do not fight his way out.
He- He remembers glass. He remembers the reflections of the sun and shattering glass. His target stands across from him, blood caked to his forehead, cheeks swollen. I'm not gonna fight you. And then his stomach drops out. Falling. Falling again.
No. Not falling. He can't-
-breathe. He can't breathe. He stares up into the snow, chest quaking with effort and broken ribs. His eyes roll back in his head as he looks to the side only to see blood. So much blood and oh god, his arm-
Bucky- the Soldier- both blink rapidly, his head jerking in sudden movements. He can't- he can't stop it- help him, help him. The smoke of the train is disappearing in the distance and no one is coming for him. No. Please. Help him.]
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A mechanical groan echoes through the shared mind space as steel bends, as teeth contort and finally- finally- the gear slides free. Make no decisions on his own. Seek out his handler. Violence does not belong on the list of options. Do not fight his way out.
He- He remembers glass. He remembers the reflections of the sun and shattering glass. His target stands across from him, blood caked to his forehead, cheeks swollen. I'm not gonna fight you. And then his stomach drops out. Falling. Falling again.
No. Not falling. He can't-
-breathe. He can't breathe. He stares up into the snow, chest quaking with effort and broken ribs. His eyes roll back in his head as he looks to the side only to see blood. So much blood and oh god, his arm-
Bucky- the Soldier- both blink rapidly, his head jerking in sudden movements. He can't- he can't stop it- help him, help him. The smoke of the train is disappearing in the distance and no one is coming for him. No. Please. Help him.]