"Have you thought much about why these words were chosen for you?" Margery began. "Do they have significance beyond what they do together to you?"
They were sitting together on Bucky's bed; she was cross-legged, while Bucky was on the edge with his feet flat on the ground. It had been two days since their kiss on the roof. Margery couldn't help but blush anytime it came to her mind, which was an unsettlingly common occurrence.
The day after, she had told him that she was going to do things differently than before. They would not be using the trigger words in the lab setting. She wanted to make sure that he felt as comfortable and as at ease as possible while they tested the words and his mind against one another. She had asked Bucky where he felt the most comfortable. His answer made her heart ache for him.
"With you." He had said.
Margery and him had then settled on a location that was an actual place rather than a human being. Bucky's room.
Bucky had ultimately made the decision. He had played it off as an "anywhere will be fine" decision, but in his heart he was remembering waking up next to Margery in his bed and being happy at that moment.
Bucky looked at her now. He had thought about those words in contradictory amounts. He had wanted to pretend as if they didn't exist, and thus put them from his mind. Yet, he had also spent a fair amount of time, laying awake at night, thinking about them. All to no avail, he still had no real notion of why they were chosen for him, or if they were not just random words.
"I don't know what they mean. They could be something, or they could be nothing." He turned his head to look at her and smiled. "You sure you've got the pronunciation down? I'd hate to have you say I'm immune, only to have some Russian be able to turn me into an assassin just because your accent was off."
Margery mocked insult. "I'll have you know, my accent is just fine."
Gaining her composure once more she placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed gently. "Lie down now."
He complied.
"Now, Bucky, I will be reading the words in order. I will be going one word at a time, slowly. If you feel any changes, let me know immediately and we can decide if it is something manageable or if we need to stop." She explained.
From his position on the bed, he nodded. They both took a deep, steadying breath.
"Zhelaniye." She began steadily. The first word: Longing.
Bucky's body tensed and Margery watched him. Yet, as he took stock of his mind and body, he realized that his reaction was one born of anticipation rather than actual sensation, like a flinch. He caught on that she was watching him and waiting for some sort of signal that it was clear to precede. He nodded.
"Rzhavyy." For the second: Rusted.
Still nothing.
"Semnadtsat." Third word: Seventeen.
There was a buzzing type of pulling sensation that was starting in Bucky's mind. He concentrated on not being pulled by it.
"Rassvet." Margery continued with the fourth: Daybreak.
Bucky's brows snapped together in concentration and pain. He had a sudden and intense headache. He began breathing hard through his nose, trying to work past it. Margery had noticed and gave him a questioning turn of the head and concerned look. He nodded again.
"Pech'." Fifth: Furnace.
His headache remained steady and painful.
"Devyat'." She said, concern creeping into her voice. The sixth word: Nine.
Bucky began to violently shake his head back and forth, his body so tense that it was strained. He was concentrating so intently on resisting what his mind was once so ready to do, that he didn't realize what his body was doing. Margery had to shake his shoulder to get him to even acknowledge her.
They had agreed on a few things prior to starting. The first was Margery's idea; that she would avoid speaking unless absolutely necessary so as to not interfere with the sequence of words. The second thing was Bucky's; that, if he couldn't go on, if something went wrong, she would have a pneumatic injector full of a fast acting sedative to use on him.
Margery, shaking him for his attention, made it clear that she was worried and wanted to know if she should really continue. Bucky's right hand came up to grasp the one of hers that was on his shoulder in the affirmative.
"Dobroserdechnyy." She practically forced out. The seventh: Benign.
Bucky cried out then. It was a cry of frustration, of pain both past and present, of fury, and of determination. He was using every muscle and every nerve to resist the urge to obey. Not for the first time he knew that there was the pull of the words working on him, but what was a first was the fact that he was able to actively resist them. But it was taking all that he was to not comply. His cry went on for a long time and when he stopped he still growled under his breath.
Margery wanted to stop. Bucky had other plans though. He grabbed her forearm and firmly shook it. She was the one to nod this time.
"Vozrashcheniye no rodinu." Eight; Homecoming.
Bucky's violent actions quieted and then ceased. He slowly and deliberately began shaking his head this time. Tears crept from his eyes. His eyes, Margery noticed, stared without emotion at the ceiling. He was in pain, pain beyond measurement and beyond reaction. He still fought it, but his strength was gone.
She couldn't continue like this.
"Bucky?" She asked urgently. "Bucky, can you hear me? You need to breathe. You need to force the pain through you, not just keep it there." He didn't respond, he was beyond that. "Bucky? Bucky, I'm stopping this." She said as she reached for the injector.
She dosed him and within a few moments he was unconscious.
XXXXX
Cool hands brushed his hair from his forehead and lingered a moment. There was a soft intake of breath and he could feel the exhale on his warm skin. He could feel the pressure and indentation in the mattress from a body sitting on the edge of his bed. One of the hands moved to take his. For a brief second Bucky expected the hand to be bigger than his own, like he remembered his mother's used to be. But no, he wasn't at home in his bed as a child, he was not being woken up gently as his mother would have done. He came back to the present as he felt the hand that was holding his own; it was smaller and attached to a woman who was taking small, almost inaudible gasps. It was the breathing of someone who had been crying and who was attempting to remain composed.
Margery.
Bucky opened his eyes and saw her. Although she smiled at him, it was a watery one. She had been crying. Crying for him.
"Finally." She said as she released his hand and attempted humor. "I thought you'd sleep forever."
She briskly stood up and turned away, busying herself in tidying up a room that was perfectly in order. Moving towards the door she continued to avoid looking at him.
"I'll go get you something to eat, you should be hungry." She commented as she exited.
Bucky was still groggy from the sedation but even he could see that something was wrong. Margery had obviously been worried for him, enough to cry and to stay at his bedside, but could not even look at him now that he was conscious. What could have happened? He tried to remember all that had happened during their experiment with the words. Everything was covered with the haze that pain creates. He began to feel sick; he must have done something that would make her uncomfortable with him. He must have hurt her, he concluded.
He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and hung his head into his hands. Of course there had been some horrible event, he had been afraid of something like that when she suggested it. He had tried to take precautions, had insisted that she have a sedative with her if anything should go wrong. But what could that really do? He knew how fast, how strong... how deadly he was. Yet, he had allowed such a risk to please her, no, to please himself.
Suddenly, he was disgusted with himself. He got up and violently stripped his clothing off and stood in the shower. He let the hot water slap his skin and he began to scrub the sleep and shame from his body. Bucky let the water run on him for some time. He didn't know what he would do once he exited the shower, but he knew he had to. He had to face the consequences. He would beg forgiveness and refuse to do anything further, he would be put back in cryosleep, and he would never touch her again.
There was a sound of movement and a rustling of fabric from the bedroom. A knock on the door. He was only in a towel but he opened it.
There stood Margery, her arms full of sheets.
"I'm putting these out for the laundry service and wanted your clothes too." She said.
Bucky looked dumbly at his freshly made bed. Then back to the woman in front of him. She was moving past him and picking up his discarded clothes and adding it to her load. She was still averting her eyes he noticed.
"Margery." He said softly.
She looked back at him from where she was setting her load into a large hamper. Her gaze, finally finding his own, did not show the fear that he expected to see there. The look she gave him was of concern and caring, brows knit together and eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"It was frightening, seeing you like that." She began. "I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't sure if you were going to have a seizure or a stroke, you were straining so hard to work past it. I was afraid that I was killing you."
"I didn't hurt you?" He asked, confused.
It was her turn to be confused too. "What? No. You were in control the whole time, but in pain and working so hard against the words that I thought you were hurting yourself, not me." Margery explained.
Before he could stop himself, Bucky was across the room and enveloping her in a crushing embrace. Whispering into her hair he said, "I thought I had hurt you. I'd never forgive myself if I did."
He could feel her body shake a bit from her letting go of the tears she had held back for his sake.
Bucky reviewed what she had said: he had been in control.
"We should try again." He said with feverish optimism.
Margery pulled back and looked at him in shock. "No."
"I'll be able to do it this time." Bucky said firmly. "I'm ready this time."
And he was ready. Somehow the small piece of knowledge that he had been in control during the trigger words was enough to convince him that he could accomplish ridding himself of their influence for good. His will was fortified in that moment and he was ready.
"Tomorrow. We will do it again tomorrow."
XXXXX
His optimism was infectious and Margery suddenly found herself drying her tears with determination and a doctoral resolve. He was fine. He wanted to move forward with treatment, and she was going to be there the whole way.
Stepping back from him she intended to express these thoughts but was stopped short. There stood a mostly naked Bucky before her, practically still wet from the shower and looking like Adonis. All those optimistic words and her cheery face flew from her and were replaced by complete shock and more than a little desire.
Shaking herself, she promptly closed her mouth and set her shoulders. "Get some sleep tonight." She said, resolutely and began retreating from the room.
"You're not eating dinner?" Bucky inquired.
The way his mouth quirked up at the corner made Margery think that he knew exactly what her hasty retreat was due to. She stopped briefly at the door and turned back.
"I've got some paperwork and preparations for tomorrow. I'll probably eat at my desk."
And with a final and firm closing of the door, Margery left to do just that. She had some ideas that she needed to work through tonight.