Chapter Five:
Bucky

It feels like the universe is trying to mock me.

After the woman left the safe house, I scrambled together all of my own supplies, packed everything in the car I stole, then drove towards the nearest HYDRA base. In Mongolia there is only one, and from what I remember, it was abandoned some time ago, but that wasn't going to stop me from checking it out anyways. There's a chance I could have come across this base at some point in the last seventy years and I refuse to leave a stone unturned.

But now I'm at the base, and do I find anything about me or my past? No. This base is a ghost town. No people, no files, no signs of life. It looks like it's been that way for a long time. There is a thick layer of dust on every surface, the lights on the ceiling flicker on and off every few seconds, and all the doors scream in protest as I open them, their joints rusted away. If any information about me was here, it's long gone, along with everyone else who once worked here.

What do I find here though? The same woman from the safe house. I find her as I'm searching through the prison cells of this base. I had wondered if there would be any signs of me being held here, and of course, there wasn't any. The woman seemed to have been searching the cells as well.

But why?

"What are you doing here?" She asks me, once again pointing her gun at my head.

I do the same, eyeing her suspiciously. "I could ask you the same question. Are you following me?"

"No. I'm looking for something." Her fear from earlier is gone, as is her anger. She only looks confused, maybe even a little conflicted. I desperately want to know why.

"And what might that be?" I ask.

"Like I would tell you," Her grip on her gun tightens, as does her tone. "Now tell me what you're doing here."

"I'm looking for answers."

"Answers to what?"

"Why should I tell you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, just as I did the last time I was at the end of her gun.

She doesn't answer me, just stares at me with the same look of confusion and conflict. I start to wonder if those feelings come from how different I'm acting. Whenever our past together took place, I was the Winter Soldier, a robotic madman. Instinct is telling her I'm a threat but my actions are telling her different. Maybe that's why she's so confused.

I need to show her I'm not a threat.

I step forward and lower my gun, dropping it on the floor in front of me. I then hold up my hands in surrender, promising her: "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

She hesitates, then does the same, her confusion more potent than ever.

"You first." She says.

"I'm here for answers," I explain. "HYDRA...they took me captive and brainwashed me. I have little memory of my life before HYDRA, and I have memories missing from my time within it. Right now it's all a haze, so I'm trying to sift through it."

The woman studies me for a beat, then realization floods her features, her eyes widening and her mouth parting slightly.

"You don't remember me do you?" She asks, sounding as if she wants to laugh, but there's no humor in her tone.

I approach her cautiously, only stopping when I'm about a foot in front of her. With me so up close, I can really take in her features. I can see the black of her pupils, the crease of her mouth, the slopes of her nose. All of this is familiar to me, I know I've seen it before...I just can't remember where.

Feeling more than a little frustrated, I shake my head. "No. I'm guessing we have a history?"

"Yes." Her voice is quiet, cold. I have a feeling she's thinking about whatever transpired between us. What I would give to be able to do the same.

"I'm also guessing it isn't a good history."

"No."

"What's your name?"

Her voice is softer as she replies: "Soroya Roberts."

I may not remember her or our past, but I know that name. Soroya Roberts is—or was—one of HYDRA's most elite assassins. She has the ability to shapeshift into any animal on earth, and she's used her ability to maul her victims, with a particular reputation for ripping people's hearts of of their chests with her claws or teeth. Like me she goes by an alias, one given to her by those unfortunate enough to cross her.

"The Savage." I murmur.

She nod once, grimacing at the mention of her moniker. "I'm here searching for my family. HYDRA took them when they took me, used them as leverage to force me to do their bidding. But with HYDRA now exposed—"

"You're looking for them." I finish, now feeling a little confused myself. The woman standing before me doesn't match up with the stories I've heard about her in the field. There's more to her story she's not telling me, I can feel it. And as much as I want to know about it, I know she doesn't trust me enough to tell it.

Yet.

She nods again, watching me like I'm a ticking bomb about ready to go off. "Yeah, I am."

"I have a proposition for you," I begin, fully knowing this might not be a smart decision, but I'm rolling with it anyway. "If you help me piece together my past, I'll help you find your family."

"What? You want to work together?" She looks at me like I've grown another head.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want."

Now her eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why?"

"Because who better to help me rediscover the missing pieces of my past than one of the missing pieces themselves? Besides, with help, both of us could achieve our goals much faster. We could cover more ground, have more protection."

What I just told her is the logical reasoning behind teaming up, but really...I want someone who knows who I truly am, and what's happened in my past, to look at me like a person, not some weapon of destruction. I want to be looked at without fear or aggression. I want to prove to myself, and to her, that my humanity wasn't entirely stripped away in HYDRA. I want to prove that the soul of James Barnes can come back, not just his memories.

"Why should I trust you?" Her voice is a mere murmur as she stares up at me.

"You have no reason to, just like I have no reason to trust you, but I think we both need help whether we like it or not."

She considers my words, then exhales a small sigh, her hardened gaze softening. "If I'm going to be working with you, I'll need to know your real name."

"James Barnes." I tell her. The name still feels so alien to me...I wonder if it will ever feel like it's mine.

The corners of Soroya's mouth tug upwards, and she extends her hand out towards me. "Alright, James. You help me, I help you. We have a deal?"

I grip her hand in my metal one, and I expect her to recoil from my touch, but she doesn't. She holds my hand firmly, as well as my stare.

I squeeze her hand, nodding. "We have a deal."

-

Soroya and I sweep the base one more time before departing in her stolen car, which is much nicer than mine. Before we had left, I transferred my backpack into her backseat, which held not only her supplies, but piles of folded shirts and pants. I didn't question why she had so many, though I suspect it has to do with her abilities. If your body transforms in the middle of a fight your clothes must rip, leaving you naked and vulnerable once you re-enter your human form.

Can't imagine how annoying that is.

We've been on the road for over an hour now and neither one of us has spoken a word. I have so many questions for her, and I'm sure she has many for me, but we still remain silent.

For my part, I'm afraid of saying something that will hurt her or make her angry. Just my presence alone has her on edge and I don't want to add to that. But how can I prove to her and to me I still have some humanity left in me if I can't even talk to her? I could talk to Paul, but he was an eight year old and didn't know who I was. Soroya is a fully grown woman who I have a mysterious past with. Is there really an ice breaker for a situation like this?

I wonder if she's staying silent for the same reason. Is she afraid to say something that will set me off? Does she worry this is all an act and I'm waiting for an opportunity to strike.

I feel my stomach churn.

"How old are you?" I hear her ask softly.

I'm so startled by her speaking I didn't even hear what she said. "What?"

"I first met you over ten years ago," Her eyes flicker between me and the road, her knuckles white as she grips the steering wheel. "And in that time you haven't aged a day. So how old are you?"

"I'm ninety seven," When her eyes widen and her mouth opens again, I explain further. "HYDRA would cryo freeze me between missions, so I have barely aged since they first took me."

"And when was that exactly?"

"According to the Smithsonian, I was a soldier in the second world war. During that time I was kidnapped by HYDRA and given the super soldier serum, but was rescued a few months into captivity. I later had an unfortunate incident where I fell hundreds of feet off a train into a ravine and HYDRA captured me again. I've been in their clutches ever since."

Soroya gapes at me. "So you've been in HYDRA for over seventy years?"

I nod, not knowing what else to say.

Soroya lets this information sit for a moment before she continues her interrogation, her voice high pitched from shock and disbelief. "You said you read all this in a museum? Why are you in a museum?"

"I was kind of friends with Captain America back in that time," I tear my gaze from hers and instead focus on the window, clasping my hands in my lap. "He was the one who helped me overcome HYDRA's brainwashing and remember who I used to be. But after so many years under their control...I don't remember much. I only have flashes of my old life, feelings...nothing else."

"I'm sorry." She says, and I can tell she wants to say more, but she holds herself back. She sounds genuine in her apology though, and I'll take her pity over her anger any day.

"How old are you?" I ask her, noticing my reflection in the window and instantly turning my gaze away, unable to stand the sight.

"I turned twenty six a couple months ago."

So she was no older than sixteen when I first met her. I try to imagine a teenage version of Soroya, hoping maybe that will job some memories, but it's all still blank.

"When were you taken by HYDRA?"

"I was twelve," She begins, a hollowness in her voice that makes my chest ache. "I had been walking home from the school bus when I blacked out. Next thing I knew, I was in the forest, covered in blood, naked, with HYDRA agents staring down at me. I was brought into HYDRA and told I had the ability to shapeshift, and that I would use that ability however they ordered me. If I refused...they'd kill my family. They even brought them in and showed me my parents and my brother, all three of them chained, bloody, and bruised. That was the last time I saw them."

"Soroya..." I trail off.

Twelve years old.

A child.

Cursing under my breath, I tell her: "I am so sorry. You deserve better than the hand you were dealt."

Soroya's lips part in surprise, and I feel shame curl in my gut. Of course she's shocked by my reaction, she probably expects me to laugh at her and tell her she deserved what happened, that she was HYDRA's property to do with as they saw fit.

For all I know, I have told her that.

"So do you." She says after a minute, and now I'm the one left in shock.

We both fall back into silence after that, but it's not an awkward and tense silence like before. This time the air is more comfortable, I feel like I can now speak to her without fear of her shifting and clawing my chest out because I offended her in someway.

Though instinct tells me she wouldn't do that, even if I did say something wrong and hurt her.

It's strange. I know her reputation, I've seen photos of her victims, heard stories from other agents about her...but the woman who did those things isn't the woman sitting next to me now. The Savage is known for being ruthless, blood thirsty, an animal barely confined in human skin. But the woman next to me? All I see is a compassionate heart and a weary soul.

I desperately want to know why Soroya herself is so different from her reputation, almost as much as I want to know about our history together.

Almost.

"Do you mind if we listen to the radio?" I ask her, gesturing to the object in question. "Listening to music from my time helps with jogging my memories."

Soroya smiles; not fully, just a hitch of her lips, but a smile nonetheless.

I want to see her smile more.

"I don't mind at all." She responds, turning on the radio and turning up the volume. The channel is already set to the '30's and 40's top hits' station, and as another familiar song flows out of the speakers, Soroya hums to the beat and taps her fingers on the steering wheel.

I feel myself smile as well.