Title: These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends
Author: A. X. Zanier
Status: WIP
Rating: R (Language, violence, sexual situations, the usual)
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Disclaimer: a) The characters and basic story ideas of Captain America/Avengers/et al are the property of others including, but not limited to Stan Lee, Marvel Studios, Disney Studios. Any additional characters or story ideas are mine. I make no money from this intellectual exercise. b) This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any opinions or views expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of the author and are used for storytelling purposes only.
Series: #4 Follows dancing with the demons
Spoilers: Oh hell yes. Any part of the MCU is fair game.
A/N: I started this prior the big Infinity War reveal at D23. This story will be the last of the series and lead directly into the events of Infinity War.
.
These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends
.
His fist drives towards my stomach and I twist away barely in time, the metal arm brushing along my side with bruising instead of breaking force. I grunt, suck in a breath, and close with him, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck, long sweaty hair making my grip iffy at best, and use my right to drive hard punches into his kidney, his armour absorbing most of the blow, but he huffs out a breath, shifting in an effort to break my grip.
He finally succeeds with the simple expedient of placing his left hand on my chest and shoving me away, forcing me to stumble back several steps to regain my footing. I get my hands up, but not quick enough, his foot impacts my shoulder knocking me to the ground. I land on my side, an oof of air forced from me by the sudden stop. I roll onto my back just in time to see his foot coming down, not at my head, but my chest, putting my ribs at risk of being violently crushed under the hardened rubber the soles of his boots that grew larger and larger in my sight.
Somehow I get my hands up, wrap them around that appendage and stop the downward movement cold. He shifts weight in an attempt to complete the maneuver, but I am able to, not just hold him, but shove hard him enough to get him off balance, arms windmilling to keep from falling.
Knowing I have the upper hand for the moment, which I find amusing given I remained flat on my back, I hold tight and shift into a crouch that permits me to twist and knock his other leg out from under him.
He goes down hard, but instead of following after him with blows from my fists and feet much as he had to me, I back away panting, watching him warily from a defensive crouch.
Tired. So damn tired. It feels like this battle has been going on for long weeks, years even. So fucking long that I barely remember a time when we hadn't been battling, a winner coming out on top only rarely and never for any real length of time. We remain evenly matched no matter what the winds of fate brought upon us.
He slowly climbs to his feet, confusion at my lack of attack when he'd been vulnerable obvious though his eyes remain icy cold and lacking in any real emotions. He existed as little more than a tool, designed to fight, and kill, and comply.
His long sweat soaked hair falls before his eyes, untrimmed and uncared for. He breathes heavily, proving I've been giving as good as I'd taken during this never-ending battle.
He watches me for long silent minutes, his blank expression, and even blanker gaze, giving me no clue as what might be going on behind those deep blue eyes.
Finally, he nods slowly, though in response to what I have no clue.
"This isn't working," he states, the words sounding as if they have taken actual effort to articulate.
I blink, not certain what he refers to. We fight, to a draw most of the time, the war between us ongoing, neither of us able to give in or give up. Both wanting... needing to survive though I doubt if either of us knows why anymore. "Then what? I won't let you win."
I relax my defensive posture, standing up straight while keeping a wary eye on him. This could just be a new ploy, a trick to get me to off-guard long enough for him to take control. He does horrible things when running the ship, I will not permit him to commit another ghastly crime, no matter the provocation or need.
He shakes his head. "You don't need to win," he informs me.
My jaw clenches. If I don't win, he will, giving him control and that... that would not end well. Even with our handlers gone someone would realize exactly what dwelled within, what he could do, and use him for their our purposes. I could not permit that to happen. Uncontrolled, who knew what he would do, who he might kill. He was not the type to just settle down and live a quiet life. That had been me forcing it upon him. He required commands, structure, and a strong tight leash to be kept in check. My hand barely enough to keep this ship afloat much less steer it in the right direction.
I straightened the collar of my jacket, the uniform not as pristine as the day I had received it, wear having accumulated over the long years, but it would still do the job. "If I win you go away for good."
He tilts his head, watching me, lips twitching as if he wants to smile but cannot quite remember how. "But you need me."
I shake my head in denial. There is nothing about him that I couldn't live without.
"You know what is coming. Do you really think you stand a chance without me?"
To say that I know what is coming is a bit strong, but I had felt that Sword of Damocles hanging heavy over all of our heads since joining Steve and taking a turn at this hero thing. Something out there wanted humanity dead and would just keep trying until they succeeded. Maybe next time it would be a planet killer, a rock thrown at us from deep space whose impact would wipe the surface of our small blue world clean. We'd have no chance at survival, no way to escape, no mass exodus to any of the other worlds that had come to light in the last decade.
We would watch it come with horror and fear in our eyes and bodies and then die.
"And how can you help?"
He shrugs. "Perhaps I know more than you realize."
"And perhaps you will say anything to live."
He gives me a nod of acknowledgment, not about to deny the truth. "If we continue to fight we will be of no use to them."
I huff out a breath of irritation. We'd been plenty of use, but we'd also caused a fair share of trouble. Him making appearances at unexpected moments much to the detriment of the relationships I had been trying to build. "Then what do you suggest?"
"A truce."
I snort, laughter bubbling up and over at the mere thought of he and I doing anything other than continuing a war that had been going on for decades. "And what would that get me? A quick death by your hands?"
"No. If you die I die."
The laughter fades at his pronouncement. "I don't believe you."
"Your belief does not change the facts. I have knowledge, skills, but no real existence." He takes a cautious step towards me. "You exist in a way I cannot on my own."
"So?" I prompt, wondering what path he seemingly wants to lead me down.
He looks at me as if I am a complete dunce. "If we work together we can both live and, perhaps, survive what's coming."
"And how, exactly, would we do that?" I question, finding it hard to believe that he will compromise on anything, much less his existence. I know I won't, and yet... He does have a point. We will continue to fail so long as our fight did. Maybe, just maybe, together we can be what the world needed.
He must see the decision on my face and gives me a curt nod of affirmation. He holds out his hand, his left hand, the metal glinting in the light.
I contemplate the ramifications of my next move. If I take that leap of faith, if I trust him, trust that his words are the truth, that when this ends he and I will be a we instead of two souls constantly battling for control of the single body we lived in.
I will never be The Winter Soldier again.
I will also never be wholly James Bucky Barnes again.
I have no idea who I will actually become.
I step forward and grasp his forearm. "We do this together from now on."
He nods. "Together."