Marvel: Video Game Templates!

The hum of the medical equipment filled the dimly lit lab as Bucky Barnes slowly opened his eyes. His breath came in short, steady exhales.

Wanda took a step back, nodding towards Steve as her crimson aura flickered before slowly fading away completely. 

Maxim and Natasha stood together, just silently observing Bucky slowly gaining his bearings. Maxim took note of Steve's reaction, the Captain seemed very nervous as he called out to the Winter Soldier.

For a moment after Steve called out, Bucky didn't respond, his eyes flickering with confusion as he gazed around the room, pausing on Wanda for a moment as he recognized her before moving and stopping on Steve.

His brows furrowed, as if trying to grasp onto a distant memory just beyond reach.

"Do you know who I am?" Steve asked, nervous as he stared at Bucky, who slowly rose from the medical bed, sitting on the edge as he took deep breaths to calm himself down and looked towards Steve.

"You're Steve, we were good friends.....I think." Bucky said slowly, groaning as he brought his hand to his head, slowly but surely feeling the memories of his past in World War 2 flooding back to him.

Meanwhile, for Steve, that was all he needed to hear. He immediately took another step forward, his heart hammering in his chest as he finally got to greet his former best friend.

However, before Steve could take a step closer, Maxim appeared right behind him. placing a firm hand on his shoulder, "Give him a minute." Maxim said quietly, "He just went through hell and back."

Steve hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, taking a step back, inhaling deeply to steady himself. Maxim turned to Wanda, who still seemed exhausted but satisfied. She met his gaze, nodding slightly.

"He's free," she whispered.

Maxim's lips curled into a rare smirk,"Good work."

Wanda exhaled, rubbing her temples before heading towards the exit. Maxim, noticing Natasha lingering at the door, gave her a small nod before turning back to Steve.

"Stay with him," Maxim said, "You both have a lot to talk about."

Steve barely acknowledged him, his focus solely on Bucky but Maxim didn't particularly care, leaving the lab alongside Natasha without another word, the door hissing shut behind them.

~IN THE ROOM~

The space for silent for a couple minutes as Steve allowed Bucky to regain his bearings. Soon, the medical bed groaned as Bucky stood up, and Steve took a hesitant step back.

Although he had gotten the okay that Bucky was fine from Wanda. During all of this, he still needed to be sure, he studied the man's face. It was the same face he remembered from Brooklyn, the sharp jawline, the piercing steel-blue eyes.

But now, he could also see the occasional scar across Bucky's arms that weren't there prior, and the obvious elephant in the room that was his metal arm.

"… Do you know where you are?" Steve finally asked.

Bucky's gaze shifted around the lab, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings "No," he muttered. His voice was rough, hoarse from disuse. He flexed his fingers, as if testing them, then flinched as he looked down at his left arm, his metal arm.

Steve followed his gaze, his chest tightening. "Bucky…"

Bucky clenched his jaw, balling his metal hand into a fist. He stared at it, breathing in sharply. Then, with a deep exhale, he relaxed. Slowly, his eyes met Steve's again.

"I've done a-lot of things Steve, I can remember it all, perfect detail." Bucky said his words trailing off as he looks up, staring at himself in the reflection of nearby glass.

"You were brainwashed Bucky...Hydra, we're planning to take them down. No-one blames you for anything." Steve said to comfort his friend, drawing Bucky's eyes to himself.

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, rubbing his temples frustratingly, "Yeah? Try telling that to the people I killed."

Steve clenched his jaw, "You didn't have a choice."

Bucky scoffed, "That doesn't change what I did."

Steve inhaled deeply, searching for the right words in his mind before he spoke, "You were a prisoner, Buck. Just like I was, just like we both were back then. Only I got to stay myself, and you… you didn't." His voice softened, "I should've been there. I should've,"

Bucky's gaze snapped up, sharp and unforgiving, "Don't."

Steve blinked, "Bucky—"

"Don't do that," Bucky interrupted, his voice laced with frustration. "Don't put this on yourself. You think if you'd been there, things would've been different?"

His metal fingers tapped against the table, a restless habit, "Even though I've been brainwashed, I remember everything Steve, I know you've been on ice for most of that time. Even if you hadn't been, what could you have done? You didn't even know Hydra still existed until recently."

Steve opened his mouth to argue but stopped, because he didn't have an answer, letting out a frustrated sigh as he looked at his previous best friend.

Bucky exhaled, leaning back against the table, "I don't need you blaming yourself, Steve. There's enough guilt in my head already. Maybe its the souls of all those victims torturing me."

Steve just silently looked down, allowing silence to descend upon the room for a couple moments. Then, he asked, "What do you remember about before?"

Bucky was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he said, "… Brooklyn."

Steve's lips parted slightly in surprise. "Yeah?"

Bucky nodded, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "I remember the dumb punk who kept getting his ass kicked in alleyways."

Steve chuckled softly, "Sounds familiar."

Bucky shook his head, "I remember our apartment. The radio playing. I remember…" His smirk faded slightly, "The war. The Howling Commandos. And then… nothing."

His fingers flexed against the table, "Nothing but killing."

Steve hesitated before stepping closer. "We'll fix that," he said, voice steady. "We'll fix everything."

Bucky let out a breath. "You always did have a habit of making promises you couldn't keep."

Steve frowned, "This one, I will keep."

Bucky studied him for a long moment before sighing "You always were stubborn."

Steve smiled faintly. "I had a good teacher."

Bucky smirked slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. He turned away, staring at the ceiling, "So… what now?"

Steve exhaled. "Now… we take it one step at a time. In terms of safety, you're probably on the safest place in the world right now."

Bucky let out a breath, shaking his head slightly, "Safe… That's funny." His voice carried a tired bitterness, "I don't even know what that means anymore."

"It means you don't have to run, Bucky." Steve said, taking a slow but thoughtful step forward, "Hydra doesn't own you, no more handlers, no more missions, you get to decide who you are, Buck."

Steve frowned, stepping closer but keeping his movements slow, careful. "It means you don't have to run anymore," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "It means Hydra doesn't own you. No more handlers, no more missions. You get to decide who you are now, Buck."

Bucky's metal fingers twitched against the table, his jaw tightening, "And if I don't know who that is?" He met Steve's gaze as he finished speaking.

Steve held his gaze, unwavering. "Then we'll figure it out together."

A moment of silence passed between the two.

Finally, Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head with something between frustration and amusement, "You always were too damn stubborn for your own good."

Steve smirked, shrugging, "Yeah, well, I had a good teacher."

Bucky huffed out something that might've been a laugh, but it faded quickly. He looked down at his hands—one flesh, one metal—and flexed his fingers, as if testing their reality. "So what now?" he muttered.

Steve thought for a moment, then answered simply, "Now, you rest. We take things slow. No missions, no fighting—not unless you want to."

Bucky snorted,"Can't picture myself settling down with a cup of tea and a good book, Steve."

"Then don't," Steve replied easily, "But you should at least try to breathe."

Bucky hesitated before shaking his head. "I don't know how."

Steve's expression softened. He reached out, resting a hand on Bucky's shoulder, firm but grounding, "Then I'll remind you."

Bucky stared at him, searching his face for something—expecting, maybe, to find doubt, to find fear. But there was none. Only that unwavering determination that had kept Steve fighting all these years.

Slowly, Bucky nodded, "Alright."

Steve offered a small smile. "Good. First step? Get some food in you. You hungry?"

Bucky blinked, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him, "I… yeah. I think so."

Steve chuckled, "Then let's go."

He turned toward the door, but paused when he didn't hear footsteps behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Bucky still sitting there, unmoving. His expression was unreadable, but his hands had tightened into fists.

"…Buck?"

Bucky exhaled slowly, standing up. His metal arm whirred softly as he adjusted his stance, but he didn't acknowledge it.

"I just…" He hesitated, his voice quieter than before. "I don't deserve this, Steve."

Steve's chest ached at the words, "You do," he said without hesitation. "And I'm gonna keep telling you that until you believe it."

Bucky huffed, shaking his head, "Like I said—too damn stubborn."

Steve grinned. "Come on. Maxim's got a whole setup in this place, I bet he's got some real food somewhere."

Bucky paused for a moment before asking, 

"He got any pancakes?"