Ten Words
AN: I have read an obscene amount of Bucky related fanfiction since seeing Civil War and my affection for the MCU (and the former Winter Soldier) grows steadily! I decided to have a go at writing for it myself with a bit of Hurt/Comfort Bucky. I apologise if this sucks. Takes place after the events of Civil War. Trigger warning for suicide attempt and Bucky's emotional scars but nothing graphic. Let me know what you guys think. No flames please!
He jolted out of unconsciousness. Something was wrong. No, not wrong, different. He tried to think, to remember where he was. Instead of a cold, dark room filled with equipment and people who ignored him until they had use of him, he was surrounded by light and a soft pastil green that felt warm and calming. Instead of finding himself, as numerous times before, strapped to a hard chair, the instrument of their control, he was in a comfortable bed. Still restrained, but not uncomfortably so. A voice spoke to him. Not a harsh demand of "Доклад миссии, солдат" but a familiar voice saying one word repeatedly. "Bucky? Bucky?" It was both soft and urgent. That urgency brought him to full alertness. He turned his head to face the voice. Earnest face, blond hair, blue eyes.
Then it came back. He knew who he was, if not where. He murmured the mantra he had taught himself. To centre himself in reality whenever he had a slip. "My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was a boy from Brooklyn. I was in the 107th for the United States Army in World War Two. I was the Winter Soldier for HYDRA. I'm now free.". He still had trouble believing the last thing in his mantra.
"Buck, do you know what happened?" Said the voice, concern in its tone. Steve. The voice's name was Steve. His best friend.
"We were on a mission." Bucky replied softly "HYDRA base. Their last munitions factory. There was a man there. I knew him from...from before. He said the words." Bucky winced. The man had given him a vicious grin and spat a Russian greeting before reciting the words.
"желание, Ржавая, печь, рассвет, семнадцать, доброкачественный, девять, возвращение на родину, один, грузовой автомобиль"
Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, freight car.
Ten words that kept him in chains, turned him into a machine. An asset to be used to hurt and kill. Доброе утро солдат, good morning soldier, ready for another day of serving monsters of men. Ten words that would forever haunt him.
Bucky's skull had felt like a vice. He remembered the man pressing the button that sent electricity through his brain, burning another piece of him away, then giving him, their Asset a slap and laughing when he did nothing more than turn his head, dark, unwashed hair falling across his catatonic face "жалкий"
He thought he was free. He had begun to rebuild his life. Working alongside Steve's new comrades. Doing good in the world. The chance to erase the red in his ledger, as Natasha had said of herself. He had begun to heal his fragmented mind. But the words had found him. Made him hurt again. This time there had been no wiping. He could still see his metal hand around a terrified young agent's neck and Wanda in his gun sights, shouting something. He could still feel the trigger give under his finger. The wisps of red light that indicated Wanda's use of her abilities had faded abruptly as she slumped to the floor, clutching her calf. After that he had felt a sharp pain in his neck and had blacked out. "Did I kill anyone?" Breathed Bucky.
"No" Steve told him "and Wanda's ok. We had a hard time getting her to rest, but-"
"Did I compromise the Mission?"
"No Buck. We gutted the place and blew it. Gone now."
"What about him?" They both knew what he meant.
Steve said nothing but his face, ever honest, betrayed him "Its fine. We're tracking him. I'll...let you get some rest. We're in a hospital. Near Berlin." Bucky had guessed that already. He was trained by two armies and decades of conditioning to recognise minute details. "We got a few of us outside. I've just got some things to sort out and I'll be back, okay? Here, I'll take these off" Steve was releasing the restraints. Bucky flinched.
"S'okay, just in case you need something. We're gonna have someone check you over and we'll be going, okay?"
Bucky nodded, his head falling against the pillow. There Steve went again, to take the heat on his behalf, to defend him. He wasn't worth it. He thought he would be free now, be worthy of the care and devotion his best friend had shown him. But today had shown him that there was always a chance he could be used to hurt again. He wasn't worth the trouble the others were going to. He was still dangerous. A defective weapon that needed to be decommissioned. He felt the vice-like sensation again. Almost in a trance, he stood and ran to the french windows, throwing them open.
"How is he?" Asked Nat, glancing up from the magazine she had been reading.
"He's conscious" began Steve before the sound of breaking glass in the room behind him sent him hurtling back into Bucky's room. Nat run after him to find the bed empty and the window smashed. Nat made an 'O' with her mouth. Steve threw himself across the room, outstretched hands only narrowly stopping him from tumbling out himself. "BUCKY!"
Once again, Bucky woke up. Less confusion, more pain. He groaned. "Dammithurts"
"Falling two stories will do that". To his surprise, Banner sat in the chair at the foot of the bed.
"I wasn't...I didn't think I'd..."
"Didn't think you'd wake up"
"I thought I was free of it. And then I thought I never would be, that maybe it would be better if..."
"Trust me, you don't have to explain it to me. I've been there." Banner said awkwardly. Bucky looked hard at him. The shy physicist pulled off his glasses "look, you think you're dangerous, right? Any minute you could loose control?"
"I'm sick of feeling...not safe" Bucky's nostrils flared.
"Look, you want to talk about unsafe, try turning into an ugly green giant whenever you get emotional."
Bucky realised that he had more in common that he thought with the scientist. Both had a dangerous side to themselves that they had limited control over. Both were scarred by it.
"How did you get like that?" Bucky blurted.
"Used myself as a lab rat. Tried to replicate the effects of the serum they used on Steve back in the 40's using gamma radiation. That didn't go so well" Banner gave a wry smile at his own understatement.
Bucky nodded "He was supposed to be one of many. Wonder how much shorter the war would have been if Erskine had lived?"
"Humm" Banner was a man of few words where science wasn't involved and Bucky was grateful for it. For a while they sat there, Banner reading a book, Bucky simply staring. "Ok, I'd better go tell the others you're awake"
"What do they think I was doing?"
"They think you fell after opening the window. The tranq dart you were shot with causes severe dizziness. Not sure Steve's done chewing out the hospital staff for having insecure fittings and letting you break your ribs."
Another stab of guilt. "Don't tell him. Steve. What I tried to do. He would...wouldn't take it well."
"Depends. Are you gonna try it again?"
"Not right now" Bucky attempted dark humour then decided on sincerity "no".
"Sure thing." Banner made to leave but hastily added "you know we're all in your corner, right?" Before closing the door.
Bucky wasn't sure what to do with what he felt about that. He was still getting used to feeling at all. The only thing he was certain about was that he wanted more of it. Banner had spoken to him like he understood. He remembered a similar conversation with Barton. Natasha and Sam treated him kindly, helping him through his darker moments and talking about what he'd missed while he was 'out of the world'. On one of Thor's rare visits, he had greeted him enthusiastically as 'the fabled Howling Warrior, Barnes of Brooklyn!' which had made everyone crack up. Even Stark, who had his own painful history with HYDRA's Asset had given him a place to live and had enhanced his metal arm, making it more durable. And Steve? Well that guy had walked through fire for him and would again, without hesitation. He brought him in from the cold.
It felt like summer sun after a long, bitter winter.