HOME | DD

Description
After he dragged Steve out of that lake, Bucky should have run. He was the Winter Soldier. He was a ghost story. A shadow. And if SHEILD or HYDRA found him, he'd have to hurt people. But he didn't run. He hid in the woods in a place where he could see Captain America laying on the sand, bleeding. He watched as people came and found his limp unconscious body, watched as they strapped him to a wheeled board that reminded Bucky too much of the chair he'd been strapped to after a mission.
"But I knew him."
"your work has been a gift to humanity"
"You will be the new fist of HYDRA!"
He scowled, shaking off the voices. He shouldn't have these memories. He'd been out of cyro for too long. He should get back to HYDRA for debriefing. But he'd failed his mission, and he didn't want to go back. So instead he threw one last glance over his shoulder at the man who had called him 'Bucky' and promised him until the line of the line, and ran.
The streets were nearly deserted once you get far enough away from SHEILD headquarters. People always were drawn to a disaster like moths to light. The Winter Soldier wore a coat to cover his metal arm, but the first thing he did when he was sure no one was looking was take off the coat and use his knife to scrape away the red star on his shoulder. HYDRA didn't own him anymore.
He considered throwing away the knife as well, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he slipped the coat back on and went into a craft store to buy three little tubes of paint with a crumpled five dollar bill he'd found in the gutter. Where the red star used to be, he painted a white one, surrounded by rings of red, white, and blue. A shield. Wiping the paint from his human hands, he slipped back out into the night. He was a shadow again, but at least now he wasn't owned by anyone. He was free, and he was done being a weapon. He wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore, but he wasn't Bucky Barnes either. All he knew was that he would try and do the right thing now, even if he didn't know what 'right' even meant any more.
All he could think to do was go find Steve Rodgers. The mission. Stevie. Captain America.
He would find him, and find out who he used to be.
And then, at the very least, he would be free.

Description
After he dragged Steve out of that lake, Bucky should have run. He was the Winter Soldier. He was a ghost story. A shadow. And if SHEILD or HYDRA found him, he'd have to hurt people. But he didn't run. He hid in the woods in a place where he could see Captain America laying on the sand, bleeding. He watched as people came and found his limp unconscious body, watched as they strapped him to a wheeled board that reminded Bucky too much of the chair he'd been strapped to after a mission.
"But I knew him."
"your work has been a gift to humanity"
"You will be the new fist of HYDRA!"
He scowled, shaking off the voices. He shouldn't have these memories. He'd been out of cyro for too long. He should get back to HYDRA for debriefing. But he'd failed his mission, and he didn't want to go back. So instead he threw one last glance over his shoulder at the man who had called him 'Bucky' and promised him until the line of the line, and ran.
The streets were nearly deserted once you get far enough away from SHEILD headquarters. People always were drawn to a disaster like moths to light. The Winter Soldier wore a coat to cover his metal arm, but the first thing he did when he was sure no one was looking was take off the coat and use his knife to scrape away the red star on his shoulder. HYDRA didn't own him anymore.
He considered throwing away the knife as well, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he slipped the coat back on and went into a craft store to buy three little tubes of paint with a crumpled five dollar bill he'd found in the gutter. Where the red star used to be, he painted a white one, surrounded by rings of red, white, and blue. A shield. Wiping the paint from his human hands, he slipped back out into the night. He was a shadow again, but at least now he wasn't owned by anyone. He was free, and he was done being a weapon. He wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore, but he wasn't Bucky Barnes either. All he knew was that he would try and do the right thing now, even if he didn't know what 'right' even meant any more.
All he could think to do was go find Steve Rodgers. The mission. Stevie. Captain America.
He would find him, and find out who he used to be.
And then, at the very least, he would be free.