Bucky didn’t know how long he had been lying in the snow. He wasn’t even able to feel the cold anymore. His heart rate had slowed down. Everytime his eyes threatened to fall close, he forced himself to stay awake… but slowly, he couldn’t remember why. There was pain everywhere in his body, he couldn’t move. He didn’t dare to look at his arm again, the first time he noticed that it was missing caused him to almost pass out. All he felt was the fear that pushed away the hope of getting found the more time passed. He fell out of this train. And that was it.

No glorious death for this soldier, apparently.

But then, there were footsteps. A warm wave of hope flooded through Bucky’s body, causing him to find the strength to lift his upper body from the ground, looking around in his white and messy environment. Steve? Did Steve come back to save him? No. It wasn’t Steve. Multiple people in black clothes and face masks appeared above him, looking down at him. The cold wind blew away the spark of hope inside of Bucky, letting it die. He recognized Hydras symbols embroidered on their uniforms and he knew that the worst was yet to come. Now he regretted that he didn’t let himself die earlier. “It’s him.” A voice cut through the freezing air. “Take him. Zola is not done with him yet.”

A young woman bend over his body, her eyes meeting his. It was probably the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen. Cold, but beautiful. Hands grabbed his collar, pulling him through the snow. The whimpering sounds coming out of his mouth sounded so unfamiliar that he almost didn’t recognized himself. He passed out multiple times, only to get kicked or slapped in the face to stay awake. Zola is not done with him yet.

As his eyes fell close again, all he could think about were those pretty eyes he had seen. Pretty and deadly.