Steve got back that evening looking less stressed. The lines in his face and puffiness under his eyes were still there but he wore an air of tired resolve that seemed ate the warmed up Chicken Kiev, because of course, Natasha made enough to supply them for a week, as Sam gave him the full Barnes Watch update:
On the plus side:
Opened the door when food was offered
Ate it and they didn't hear any vomiting noises
Brief eye contact with Sam in the upstairs hallway
Used the bathroom appropriately
No violence or angry outbursts (of course he didn't really interact with them sooo)
On the minus side:
He only came out of his room to use the toilet
He didn't speak to either of them
Natasha heard him speaking to someone in his room….in Russian.
"You eavesdropped on him?" Steve sounded incredulous.
"You bet we did." Sam was unapologetic.
"Guys, really, how could you? He's so paranoid already." Steve paused a moment then….
"What did he say?" Steve felt a little sleazy but all is fair in love, war and getting Bucky back.
Natasha sighed. "It was hard to make it out. I didn't stand there long. The floor boards move and squeak so…that's a dead give-away where we are in the house…he knows this."
Steve and Sam stared at her expectantly.
Natasha was not easily intimidated.
They continued to stare…she debated sitting on the deck in the dark, then offered… "He was apologizing…..he said something about making it up to them, doing better, that he would make them happy."
"Who? Make who happy?" Steve pushed. "Did he say a name, how's he going to do better? Who was he apologizing to?"
"I don't know…I thought about knocking on the door for clarification but there's that paranoia thing…" Natasha shot back.
"Wait. Does he have a phone in there? Could he be on a phone?" Sam voiced what none of them had thought about. "What if he has a phone and is talking to someone real?"
They sat there in stunned silence. The implications settling on them.
"Hydra" they all said in unison.
Sam quietly offered "he's apologizing…like he failed something…a mission, maybe?"
Sam was clearly locked onto a specific theory. "Steve, he failed a big mission of Hydra's….namely, killing you. Could all this stress have triggered him?"
None of them wanted to believe this, but it had to be considered.
"What if he isn't having a mental breakdown, what if he was triggered somehow and is Wintering right here. What if he was Barnes but the stress pushed him into this alter-ego state and now he's called them, what if he's trying to finish the mission?" Sam wasn't even trying to hide his concern as he rose to pace the kitchen.
It took Steve a few moments to process this new approach. The shock of this possibility brought a whole new set of feelings, none of it good. He closed his eyes and tried to focus, tried to mentally review the last three weeks of living with his friend.
Natasha gently put a hand on Steve's arm as she offered "Steve, I heard what he was saying. I got the feeling when he was talking that he wasn't' talking to a….real person."
Steve sighed, he was doing a lot of that lately. "Ok, ok…let's do this by the numbers." "He doesn't have a phone. There's just the house cell phone here in the kitchen and my cell."
"Can you say burner phone?" Sam interjects.
"How? He never leaves the house. I haven't left the house before today. I get all the mail and open every package."
"What about the tactical room? He could have used the computers or the burner phones in the go-bags?" Sam was not going to let this go.
"The burner phones are locked up." But then again…Steve hadn't checked recently. Now he recalled the frantic multi-houred search for Bucky last week. He finally found him curled up under the table in the tactical room about a minute before he was going to call Nat/Sam for help. "Damn." Steve mumbled.
"Well let's go check the computer data…if he ordered something or contacted someone we should be able to find it. I doubt he has enough computer skills to erase his entire footprint if he logged onto the system." Natasha suggested as she rose to head to the tactical room. Sam jumped up to follow her. Steve moved a little more slowly but headed down the stairs behind her as well. The best thing to do was methodically prove Sam wrong even if this new theory was tickling his own paranoia.
,
Bucky heard them all tramp down the basement stairs "like lemmings" he thought, and the kitchen grew quiet. He lay on the floor of his bedroom as usual only in a new position. This time he had his head close to the open metal grate on the floor. The grate that was open to the kitchen. He smiled a little smugly as he glanced at the grate. Old houses didn't have heating ducts…they have open metal grates so the heat would rise up to the second floor. Spoken words are a lot like warm air. He heard everything they had to say since they arrived that morning.
"That Birdman wouldn't figure it out" he scoffed to himself. "And Steve is too damn trusting, especially of me" Bucky mused. "Why would he trust me so much?" This thought opened a new wave of sadness to mingle with his baseline dread. "Then there is the Red Head. She really must be slipping." He smirked. "She never even looked up, none of them did. They never caught on, just kept talking….all day long." So Bucky listened to it all.
"Morons."
A cold voice said as he reviewed everything he had learned today by just lying on the floor for the past eight hours, gathering intel….one of his best skills, next to killing. "That damn Birdman wants to lock me up in a nut house…forever." He put some energy into how he would break him in half before he let it go thinking "Steve would be pissed if I did that." So pleasing Steve remained paramount. Then he pondered how Steve continued to defend Bucky, a thought that brought back that weird feeling in his belly and the sweat of anxiety.
"Don't get so cocky, Soldier. So what, you listened to their dumbass conversations all day. What did that get you. Nothing. Your target is still alive, idiot. Your work is not done."
He unconsciously shook his head; he had tremors all the time now. It was hard to hold a glass or a fork. One reason he didn't eat much, it was too obvious that things were wrong so he avoided eating in front of Steve. But the head shake had a completely different meaning, he knew this. It always came when the voice came. The one that ridiculed him.
"The Red Head….." He changed the subject on himself. "She didn't talk about locking me up. Why?" She had been noncommittal. This piqued his interest for a moment but he settled on the obvious. "She'd just prefer to garrote me and be done with it…then bury my body out back….and then tell Steve I just ran off." He squinted hard as he thought about how to maim her. Even the thought of Steve's disapproval didn't seem to deter this plotting.
And because he was absolutely loose and tangential he moved on in his head. "Oh and who the hell is Maslow and what kind of pyramid did he build? AND what does a pyramid have to do with sleep." Bucky snorted. Then next topic..…"Wintering? What the fuck is that supposed to ….."
"SOLDIER! "
Bucky's internal dialogue quieted for a moment as the Voice demanded his attention.
"Focus, you pathetic piece of shit. How dare you ignore me. You have a job to do."
"I'm tired….leave me alone…" Bucky answered in his head.
"Shut up and focus. Get the mission done and then you can sleep. You can sleep forever if you like. But for now Soldier, you will comply with the mission."
It was getting harder to focus on anything for too long. Even the insistent Voice couldn't hold his attention for long. The ghosts were becoming like old friends…wait, not like old friends, that was Steve. The ghosts were his audience; spectators watching him perform, like the high priced crowds that cheered him on in Hydra's pits. Screaming for him to spill some poor soul's blood. Sometimes screaming to see his blood fall. Always screaming.
He drifted back to the three "stooges" running downstairs to look for his "digital footprint"…. he rasped out a laugh. Although he was pissed the Red Head so clearly doubted his computer skills that she thought she could track him easily. He took pride in knowing that he wouldn't have been that sloppy to leave evidence of obtaining mission supplies even if it involved computers.
"глупая женщина" He said to his ghostly entourage. "The Red Head isn't stupid but how could she not notice the grate right over them." He returned to enjoying his subterfuge. But then again as he laid there reviewing the events of the day he had a slightly more coherent thought….. "I have no idea what they're talking about…I can barely find the bathroom never mind shop for a burner phone online…" this was most definitely in Bucky's own voice. "God…what a mess you are pal…." He closed his eyes and imagined standing over his wretched supine figure and looking down. "Really, Barnes…you are a complete disaster, try to get a grip for god's sake."
"They're catching on, soldier. Didn't you just hear them? They are on to you. They realize you need to finish the mission. The time frame needs to be moved up. "
"I have a time frame?" Bucky wondered curiously. Then his mind floated onto a new topic; how the Chicken Kiev tasted: good. How it felt to puke it up quietly in the wastebasket: bad.
"Soldier, you are nearly at the end of your service. Your time is nearly done. Finish this mission."
"Wonder if they're finding my bare footprints down there?" He laughed a little hysterical laugh at his inside joke.
"Soldat! STOP THIS! You belong to us, not to yourself. You are our tool, our asset, our weapon. FINISH THIS NOW!"
"Finish WHAT?" Bucky bit back at the Voice.
"Kill him, Soldier. Kill the Captain. Finish the mission you abandoned in Washington . Did you think you could walk away? Did you think we wouldn't come for you? You will kill him. You will obey our commands. Then we will let you sleep…forever if you wish."
Bucky's mind went quiet. His hoarse laughter cut short. "Oh….. That mission." His stomach rolled over.
"Finish the mission, Soldier."
"No." he thought very quietly.
"Finish it, Soldier."
"No." he whispered.
"DO IT. Soldat! You're the asset, obey the command. There is only the mission."
"NO." he spoke firmly.
"There is a price to pay for disobedience soldier. You will be punished without mercy."
Bucky laughed bitterly "Oh. Right. Ok….. Pain. Your pain doesn't scare me anymore." He spit out the words with all the waning energy he possessed.
"No, Soldier? Pain is no longer a tool? We'll see about that, won't we."
And with that statement a cramping fire began in his belly and rapidly spread to his groin. Stabbing, burning, wrenching pain. A cold sweat sprung up on his body, a pounding headache slammed him. He groaned loudly and rolled into a ball on his side as this punishment drove home the Voice's point. He had waves of gut wrenching nausea that ended in crippling dry heaves. He had nothing to puke up anymore except his intestines.
Complex or even coherent thought was a luxury that was lost on Bucky these past few weeks. His world had spiraled down to a very narrow and warped view. The Voice in his head, supported by the ghosts, ruled all thought and emotion. When it said he would be punished and the pain started it only made sense that the Voice was making good on its promise of punishment.
Between the waves of cramping sweats, he tried to recall what had happened in the last few hours. He had eaten the food the Red Head had supplied, maybe it was poisoned after all….that's why he puked it up, just to be sure. Pity. It tasted really good and sat in his belly nicely. But she was not to be trusted no matter what, so up it came.
When he felt dizzy and faint he ate the food he had hidden under the bed. Small bites, just enough to fuel basic functions. He knew how to survive long missions without resources. Old or spoiled food was never an issue in the past; the serum took care of that. He'd eaten a whole lot worse than spoiled food that time in Yulin, China. That memory brought on a new wave of crippling nausea and sweats.
Eating crap to fulfill energy needs was normal behavior for the asset and he never suffered any real setbacks because of it. Even the times he had actually been poisoned he barely noticed it. So it never crossed his mind now that he might actually be sick. Now his body was doing a pretty damn good job of educating him about the dangers of food gone bad.
"Fuuuccck." Was all he could utter as the pain in his belly curled him into the fetal position on the floor. He was moaning as quietly as he could, angry at himself for even allowing that weakness. But it hurt so damn bad, nearly as bad as what Hydra had done to him in the past.
"Really? Are you sure about that, Barnes?" his alter ego standing over his writhing body on the floor was talking to him now.
"Damn….yet another opinion." He mumbled.
Tears began to fall against his will. He just couldn't stop them.
"Crying now, Barnes?" Standing Barnes chided his body on the floor.
"Poor baby. Maybe that serum is wearing out. Maybe this will kill you after all."
"Good. I hope it does kill me." Bucky hissed at himself as he shook through the pain. "I don't give a shit. I'd be glad to be dead, about fucking time!" He rasped through clenched teeth.
"Not until you're done, asset. No dying until you're done. We can take you to the doors of hell and back again over and over to make our point. You remember this, don't you. You remember being broken. We never let you end your suffering then but now, Soldier, we will let you go, once you finish your job."
His face was wet with tears, sweat and vomit. His legs were cramping from the loss of what little water he had in his system. He tried desperately to dissociate from the pain. He'd done that so many times before to survive but his head was so disorganized now it was nearly impossible to wall off the pain into a neat little box he could ignore. So he steeled himself and rode it out like he rode out the fall from the train. A long terrified scream as he waited to hit the ground.
"What do you want Soldier?
Soldier….what do you want?"
Well that was an odd question coming from the Voice. He couldn't recall anyone with Hydra or any of his handlers ever asking him what he wanted. The asset doesn't want anything. Doesn't feel anything. Doesn't desire, wish or hope. What kind of trick was this? He knew about their games.
"What?" Bucky dared to ask.
"What do you want? What would help you finish your work?"
Bucky knew right away what he wanted, so he answered, since the Voice had asked.
"I'm tired. I don't want the pain. I wanna be done. I wanna be done with it all."
For a moment a feeling of calm came over him. Maybe the Voice will release him.
"We can help with that… if you complete your work. One more step is all it will take. Then I will go away, the ghosts will go away, the pain will fade, Howard and Maria will rest and Stark will be satisfied. One small push here at the end."
He remembered the endless torture as Hydra made him. Physical pain was a given as they worked on him like he was an object. It was the psychological pain that won out in the end. All of it was relentless but the creative and cruel part was the give and take. Hurt then comfort….pain then a promise of rest…..if …..only if…he was "good."
The endless cycle only let up when he agreed. When he said "I'll do whatever you want." Now, as he writhed in pain, as the Voice and the ghosts engulfed his every fiber, he knew what to do; he knew what to say. He could feel his mind give way to the answer.
"That's it Soldier. Give us what we want. Give us your obedience. Give us the death we want. Give us the Captain. Then you can rest, you can sleep. Forever if you like. All your suffering will end. Finish it Soldier."
Bucky closed his eyes tight. Resolve filling him. "You can do this Barnes. One last time and you'll be free." He breathed out his answer to the Voice's commands. "Alright. You win. готов к выполнению." He translated his assent for Standing Barnes and the ghosts that surrounded him…."Ready to comply."
"Ok so all the burn phones are accounted for. The computers are clean. I can't find a single piece of data that indicates he was online or communicated with anyone." Natasha finally concluded as she dropped herself into one of the chairs in the tactical room and laid her head on the table in exhaustion.
"So that leaves us with what? Bucky's seeing things? He's going crazy?" Steve leaned his hands on the table and shook his head.
"It isn't uncommon for stress, PTSD to cause people to have hallucinations especially if they're under prolonged stress." Sam offered a more clinical assessment than "crazy" as he searched through the random papers left on the counter in front of the computer screens.
Steve didn't say anything more for a long time; then abruptly left the room.
Sam and Natasha exchanged a knowing look. Then Natasha followed Steve upstairs while Sam kept exploring the room. "There have to be clues here." He was sure that Barnes had done more than just sleep under the table down there. He had to be up to something, not just napping. It didn't make sense. So he kept digging. The papers were a dead end; all of the containers and cabinets were empty; there wasn't even evidence of anyone using the white board, no ghosting of words or numbers. The locked cabinets had no evidence of tampering; no scratch marks, no paint missing.
He finally resolved that his suspicions were getting him nowhere, at least in this space. As he headed out, he ran his hand down the white board horizontally, absent-mindedly, when the board moved slightly. "Huh? What the hell?" He applied a little more pressure and pushed, only to find it was detached from the wall.
He maneuvered it down and …"here we go Barnes, you little shit, you." Beneath the white board the plaster wall was cluttered with maps, stickie notes, and drawings. Scrawled over the maps were names, dates, and numbers. The handwriting was shaky and random, there were scribbled figures, repetitive phrases. Much of it was written in what appeared to be Cyrillic.
"So this is what you've been up to." Sam felt vindicated…sort of. It wasn't proof positive that Barnes was channeling the Winter Soldier or that he was colluding with some unknown handler, but it certainly showed that Barnes was working on something. Sam was sure it was sinister. Just to be safe…he took pictures of everything and put the board back in place. Then headed upstairs to try and convince Steve that his friend was not to be trusted.
"Bucky, you ok in there?" Steve was knocking on the bathroom door. "Hey buddy, I heard you….vomiting…. sounds bad, just wanna know you're ok? How 'bout you open the door?" Steve was trying to sound calm. "Come on, buddy, open the door." Steve had already tried to open it, but it was locked. "Bucky, come on, open it up, I don't want to break the door, I'm worried about you. You're puking a lot." Steve was leaning his head against the door as he spoke.
The cramping had sent very disturbing signals to Bucky's gut that clearly advised his brain he needed to get to the bathroom fast. He had crawled to the bedroom door, yanked it open, and stumbled awkwardly forward into the bathroom ending with a kick to the door to shut it as he sprawled on the floor. What happened next….Was. Not. Pretty.
Natasha came up the stairs to join Steve. "Is he sick? Is that even possible with the serum?" She wondered out loud as she leaned one shoulder against the wall. She studied Steve's technique on how to persuade open a door.
"Bucky, come on, open up. I just want to help you."
"Ok, please open the door."
"I don't want to break the door, but I'm going to break down the door if you don't unlock it so please open it up."
Steve reluctantly stepped back and braced his shoulder to force his way in, when Natasha stepped in front of him, holding up a lock pick.
"Subtle is still an option Steve" as she applied her tool to the lock and swung the door open.
It was definitely not pretty. The smell was astounding. The floor was disgusting. It was the unmistakable food poisoning aftermath that most non-super soldiers have experienced at some point in their lifetime. And Bucky was sitting in the middle of it all.
Steve closed his eyes, sighed for what felt like the 100th time that day, took a deep breath and waded into the door closed behind him, leaving Natasha, a grateful Natasha, in the hallway. She decided to find something helpful to do, so she went to Barnes' room and flipped on the light. It wasn't much better than the scene in the bathroom. She rolled up her sleeves and started to clean.
It was nearly 2am when they converged in the hall outside of the upstairs bathroom. Bucky was soaking in the tub, his bed was stripped, all food was removed, the windows open to air the place out and the door shut and locked to prevent him from nesting back in there. The bathroom floor, walls and fixtures were clean, and awaiting the final wipe down once he was trundled off to a bed.
Sam had found latex gloves and had taken on laundry duty. They were doing the final wipe down of the hall floor and walls when Sam glanced at Natasha and quipped "You know, I never thought I would say this but, I kinda miss the Winter Soldier….he was scary as shit but at least he didn't puke his guts up all over the place."
Natasha stopped mopping and just stared at him. A few red curls hanging in her eyes.
Steve grimaced at the comment but kept wiping the doorframe.
Sam grabbed a rag and stared wiping down the stair rails ….he persisted…"Steve, I think you really need to consider the possibility that Barnes is more the Soldier than you give him credit for."
"Sam, do we really need to do this right now?" Steve's frustration was showing.
"Yea, I think we do. If he is more the Soldier than he is Barnes…. if his conditioning is deeper than we realize….your life is at risk. All of us are at risk. He could kill any one of us in our sleep. So yeah, I think it is a point that needs discussion tonight." Sam was on his way to telling Steve about his discovery in the tactical room.
"Enough." Steve stopped cleaning and shot him an angry look. "He's sitting right there. He can hear you talking about him. Show him some respect."
"Well it's better he hear what we have to say than talk about him behind his back." Sam shot right back.
"Fine. So you want to accuse him of being the Soldier? Go ahead. Go in there and say it to his face. Go tell him you don't trust him. You think he's going to kill us. Look at him Sam. Does he look threatening to you? Does he look like the Soldier now?" Steve stepped aside enough to give Sam a full view of Bucky, emaciated, head bowed, sitting in the tub. He did indeed look pretty pathetic, even to Sam's skeptical eye.
"Besides, you said it, you've been saying it, Sam …..He's sick; mentally and now physically. So now you're saying he's the Soldier? He's going to kill us? Which is it?" Steve was angry and defensive as he turned to face Sam head on.
"I don't want to argue with you Steve. I just think you should consider all options. He's not exactly talking to us, he's isolated, angry. That certainly fits his profile as the Soldier."
"Yea and it also fits the profile of someone who is depressed and psychotic. Sam." Steve had been doing his homework about mental illness. He was piecing it together, slowly.
Sam and Steve were standing closer now, facing off, like two bulls in a small field. Sam knew he was taking a chance challenging Steve's loyalty to Barnes. Sam had been a dedicated friend for the past few years but he was beginning to understand the complete and utter blind devotion Steve felt towards Bucky. He was staring to realize he couldn't compete. Steve would choose Bucky now and always. Even if it meant his own death.
"Could you two please grow up. This is not helpful to anyone. We're tired, filthy and frankly I think we're all depressed right now so let's get this done and get some rest." Natasha was trying to be the voice of reason. It was 2am after all.
Steve and Sam went back to work in silence until….
"I dunno, which one do you prefer, Nat? Winter Barnes or Floridly Psychotic Barnes?" Sam blurted out. Frankly he was pissed at Steve and took it out on Barnes.
Natasha didn't answer.
"Enough! Sam." Steve barked with so much anger Bucky shuddered and even Natasha startled. "Stop it, Sam just stop it."
"I'm just joking, man. Just trying to release the stress."
"Then don't do it at his expense. He's sick. Leave him alone." Steve again faced Sam.
Sam felt a flair of his own anger. They had spent the last 14 hours care-taking a grown man who may or may not be about to kill them all. He was tired, irritated, frustrated and feeling helpless. A too familiar feeling. Sam couldn't help but think about Riley and how he lost him. How helpless he felt. Maybe watching Steve go through this was affecting him more than he wanted to acknowledge.
"Ok boys, time for a break." Natasha stepped between them. "You. Rogers. Downstairs and outside on the deck. It's a beautiful night and you need some fresh air." She turned to Sam. "You need to go to the basement shower and don't use all the hot water because I am in there next."
Steve stared to protest but she cut him off as only she can stop a conversation.
"I will finish up here with Barnes."
"GO. Both of you. No speaking. No fighting. Go away."
It really was a beautiful night. The house was far enough in the country that city lights didn't muddle the night sky. Thousands of stars were dancing overhead; the air was cool and crisp. The night was full of sounds, crickets and frogs; leaves rustling in the breeze, the high pitched tinkling of the wind chime Nat had hung on the deck. He watched how the breeze rustled the tall grass in the fields just beyond the house. It was peaceful.
Steve thought "Bucky would love this." He caught himself. It was as if Bucky was gone again. They were living right there together and yet he wasn't there at all. He felt the hint of tears but he wouldn't let them fall. No time for tears. He let the night sky fill his thoughts. It made him feel small. In a good way. Like his life was just a small part of the universe and he didn't have to carry it all by himself. He had help. He would ask for help. He would help Bucky save himself. He resolved that one night soon he and Bucky would lie out there in the field, watching the night sky and talk about dreams and the future…..together.
Bucky was lying in Steve's bed curled on his side, facing Steve. It felt good to be there. No voices, no ghosts, no mission. Just staring at Steve. Comforting and safe.
Steve opened his eyes and looked back. "Hiya." He whispered. "You ok?"
Bucky nodded.
"Can't sleep?"
Bucky shrugged abit. "Slept a little." He whispered. They lay there quietly for awhile. Then. "Sam's right ya know." "I could hurt you." "I could kill you. I…..might kill you... And them."
"No. Buck. I don't believe that." Steve whispered with complete conviction.
"I. It's. I'm not ok, ya know. I can't think straight anymore."
"I know. I get it. We need to get some help for you, for us. There's no shame in needing help. But let's not get into now, ok. Just rest now. Ok?' Steve reached unconsciously to brush the hair from Bucky's cheek.
Bucky closed his eyes for that moment to try and hold onto it. Steve's touch on his face. Quick and tender. He wanted to remember that touch.
Bucky wanted to tell Steve about the Voice. About Howard and Maria. About the army of ghosts that haunted him. But he knew it would upset him. Besides, Bucky just knew that Steve would agree with Sam and put him away forever if he told him about the ghosts and the Voice. If he admitted to being crazy, that would just mean Sam was right and he needed to be locked away. Bucky kind of agreed with Sam. But he just didn't want to lose Steve, not yet, so he didn't say anything.
They lay there for awhile, silently, looking at one another.
"Steve? …..Will you hold me?" Bucky's voice was small, barely a whisper.
Steve wasn't quite sure he heard him. "What? I'm sorry I didn't hear you."
Bucky lay there watching him for a moment longer, then rolled over away from Steve. It was too much to ask again, too painful to chance the rejection. He had no more energy for pain.
Steve watched him role away, abit confused, when Bucky's question finally settled in his mind and he realized he had unintentionally turned him away. He had a chance at the very thing he was longing for earlier in the evening. A chance to be close to his friend. An invitation to be close.
"It's not too late." He chided himself.
So he carefully slipped closer behind Bucky and gently slipped his arm around his waist; he could feel Bucky's breathing settle. Steve pulled him closer, tight against his chest, Bucky didn't pull away. Steve held on tight; buried his face against the back of his neck and let the smell of his skin fill him.
"Don't let go of me, Steve." Bucky whispered.
"I got you, pal. I won't let go. I won't ever let go. No worries."
Bucky slept fitfully but it was more sleep than he'd had in weeks. Each time he woke, Steve was there. Holding him. It felt good. It kept the ghosts away. It quieted the Voice. He was going to miss this closeness when it was all over. "Too bad we didn't get this close more often. I like this." He thought as he drifted off to sleep again.
Bucky was dreaming about Steve. They were lying on a bed in a field of tall grass, watching one another. He could feel the sunlight on his bare skin; could see how it painted warm tones on Steve's body. Bucky reached out to touch his face; he slowly ran his fingers across his cheek, slipped his thumb across his lips, and fingered his neck, exploring him. He felt the softness of his flesh, felt his pulse beneath his hand. He vaguely noticed his arm was flesh, not metal.
Steve smiled. Bucky moved forward slowly to bring his lips to meet Steve's. The kiss, their first, was gentle, soft and everything Bucky hoped it would be.
He kissed him back.
Steve reached to run his fingers through Bucky's hair. His hand slowly began to caress his body; moving down his shoulder, his arm, and then lingered on his hip. Bucky's own hand was pressed against Steve's broad chest, he could feel the firm muscles and softness of his perfect skin. He felt Steve run his thumb across his belly, then slip his hand around his waist to caress his ass and pull his hips closer to press against his own. Their kisses deepened as the heat of their embrace took them. Bucky licked and pressed his tongue into Steve's mouth; he could feel Steve's cock fill as his lips parted and allowed him to take this pleasure.
This was everything Bucky wanted and had never gone after.
"At least I can have this in my dreams." The thought breezed through his mind like a cold wind.
"I'm dreaming?...Shit." He was very very disappointed.
The grassy field, sunlight and warm embrace slowly faded away as his consciousness returned. He lay there in the real bed, eyes closed, clothes on, sensing the emptiness around him. Steve was gone. At least he wasn't holding Bucky the way they had slept through the night.
He thought he felt him still in the bed so he slowly opened his eyes. Expecting Steve.
But….
The body in the bed was Maria Stark.
Blood on her head. Glassy eyes fixed only on him. Her neck was mottled and swollen with bruises shaped like finger prints. His finger prints.
He tried to get up, push away from her but nothing moved. He felt his body held down as it felt when he was in restraints, pressure across his chest, choking his breath. He couldn't stop looking at her. He struggled to scream or talk, tried to call Steve's name. But only a pathetic whimper passed his lips. Tears slipped down his cheeks as his mind desperately tried to escape this apparition but she had him, restrained and captive. There was no escape from her vengeance. He was about to pay the price for his crimes. There was no more avoiding it. No more time with Steve. That filled him with regret.
He wondered for a moment what her plan was to destroy him, when she moved. Her hand slowly rose to point at him. A thin finger came towards his face. He struggled in vain to back away, move his head, call for help…anything to get away from this assault.
Just as the tip of her finger approached his forehead…she spoke.
"I used to kiss my son on his forehead every night before bed."
Bucky began sobbing.
"It was our moment together."
Waves of tremors took him.
"You took that from me. You stole my son from me."
He tried desperately to close his eyes but she even controlled that simple escape.
"You took everything from me. Now you will lose something you love."
He tried so hard to say no….please, no. But nothing came out. Nothing but his sobs.
She would show him no mercy….just the way he never showed mercy to his victims as the Soldier. It was time to pay the price.
Her finger moved slowly, methodically towards his forehead. He couldn't escape its progression. He was fully expecting it to burn when she touched him. Or freeze or somehow cause pain. That was the currency he best understood. Pain. But when her finger connected with his skin there was no pain….only horror as it passed through his skin and pressed deeper and deeper into his brain. On it went through his head, fire seared through every fiber of his nerves. His vision went blinding white, as he felt her finger twist and turn inside his head. He heard himself screaming as if he was in another room listening to someone else's torture. His body began to shake violently, tensing and jerking without control as she torn his brain apart with her fingers all while he lay there captive by her gaze.
Maria's fingers finally wrapped around his cervical spine and dug into his bones. She pulled him slowly forward as his hysterical sobs played in his ears. She pulled him closer and closer until her lips were close to his head. Then she kissed him on the forehead.
"I used to kiss my son just… like... this." She stated with no particular emotion.
The contact was a thousand times worse than the brain wipes in the chair. White hot, electric heat seared through his brain, sending his body into more violent tremors. As she completed her kiss she laughed and threw him backwards away from her with more strength than even the Soldier could perform. His body was thrown from the bed, slammed into the wall and slid to the floor. And she was gone.
Steve ran for the bedroom when he heard Bucky scream. As he took the stairs thee at a time he heard a loud crash and a thud. He grabbed the door frame to slow his motion and was shocked to see Bucky on the floor in a full on grand mal seizure. Steve frantically pushed the bed aside and grabbed the teetering lamp on the table near where Bucky was thrashing. He cleared the area of anything that could fall on him. Steve dropped to his knees next to his friend and kept telling him "you'll be ok, Buck, I'm here, hang in, it'll pass, it'll be over soon." He hoped it would be over soon as he tried to hide his anxiety from his voice.
The shaking slowly subsided and Bucky finally went limp. Steve grabbed a pillow to put under his head and turned him on his side. He remembered how his mom had taught him about caring for people who had seizures. Of course nowadays you didn't use a bite block but at least Steve knew something about what to do. It gave him something concrete to do instead of sobbing along with Bucky. Steve knelt between him and the wall, stroking his hair while he tried to calm his own terror at what he just witnessed.
"It's time." He told himself. "I cant ignore this any longer, it isn't getting better. I'm going to lose him if I don't do something to help him." Steve had made up his mind. He would call the medical team and tell them it was time for an intervention. T'Challa had given him the names of medical and psychiatric providers that could help if needed. Bucky had categorically said no and so far, Steve had respected his choice. But now it was clear Bucky couldn't take care of himself any longer. He wasn't capable of thinking clearly. He was a danger to himself. Maybe a danger to others. Steve's heart was breaking as he made the decision to intervene even if it meant Bucky ended up hating him. Better he hate him while still alive than Steve love him after he's dead.
Sam got back to his apartment and flopped face first on his bed. "This is fucking exhausting." He complained to himself. "What the hell is Steve thinking. Barnes is psychotic at best, completely brainwashed at the worst. There's no coming back from this." Sam was normally not this negative especially when it came to veterans. He believed in them. Believed in their resilience. But Barnes was different. The torture was horrific, prolonged and profound. Some damage can't be undone. Besides…Barnes was an asshole….Sam was sure of it. Maybe the best they could hope for was a nice, safe long term psych facility that could contain him and still let Steve visit on Sundays.
Sam rolled over and force himself to get up, shower and change clothes. He had decided that he wasn't going to let anything happen to Steve even if he wouldn't listen to him. Even if Steve was blindly devoted to Barnes to a fault, Sam had a plan. While Steve and Natasha were busy babysitting Barnes, Sam had activated the house's security cameras and programmed the feed so he could access it from his laptop. Live. He could watch and listen to everything in the house. He could spy on Barnes. It was time to set it up and get to work proving to Steve that Barnes was up to no good.
Sam didn't see the seizures or hear the sobbing. He sat in his kitchen with lunch and had wondered to himself why he disliked Barnes so much. "He's a fucking victim, why am I having such a hard time with supporting him?" He was trying to be honest with himself. He respected Steve, admired him and felt he was his closet friend. He didn't understand why Steve was so obsessed with Barnes. They chased him all over the world for three years, and the man never even said "thank you" when they saved his sorry ungrateful ass from Hydra, Pierce, the CIA, Interpol, Ross and Stark, just to name a few. Sam was pissed at him, that was clear.
But this irrational anger towards Barnes still didn't make a lot of sense, he knew how depression worked, how PTSD worked, gratitude wasn't the first step in recovery. Sam felt bad about how he had acted after the food poisoning events. "That was stupid, immature…..and….what the hell was I thinking…." The realization of what drove his bad behavior rolled over him…he was jealous. He had been a good friend to Steve, would follow him to the ends of the earth…and Steve only had eyes for Barnes. "Dumbass." He chided himself. "Barnes is a train wreck, why be jealous of him?" It wasn't a sexual thing he was sure of that..it was a friendship thing.
Sam shook himself out of his musings and finished lunch so he could get to work building a case against that idiot Barnes.
Natasha didn't cry much. She took her pain and feelings and tucked them away, like a good little girl from the Red Room. As Steve's friend she hurt for him. As a soldier herself, she was scared by what was happening to Barnes. This could have been her, may still someday be her; she could unravel the same way he was coming apart. "There but for the grace of god go I." the saying ran through her head, she was uncertain where she heard it but it seemed fitting.
Her connection to Barnes was private. Even he didn't seem to recall her. It was easy to lock it away from everyone, especially Barnes. But it informed her every thought when it came to "Project Barnes" he had to be saved somehow.
She was tired when she got back to her place, but with everything that happened, sleep was not an option, so she put on her best leathers and got on her bike to find solace and comfort in the speed.
Bucky woke slowly from the seizures, groggy and confused. His body felt heavy, drool was pooled on the pillow under his head. He barely noticed. His mind was numb, empty. It felt very very familiar. The emptiness surrounded his only clear thought.
"Finish the mission."
He knew what he needed to do now. He just had to gather enough strength to carry it out…then it would all be over, finally. An end in sight.
Steve saw that he was waking up, "Hey buddy, take it easy, that was a bad seizure, it lasted a good 5 minutes." He had a wet facecloth and was wiping Bucky's face and trying to cool the back of his neck as he sat cross-legged next to him.
Bucky tried to push himself up to sit but dropped back down.
"Go easy, you should just rest here abit. We got no where to go." The worry in Steve's voice was clear.
Bucky….the Soldier….. lay still obediently and gathered his strength. He wasn't thinking about anything special, the Voice was quiet, the ghosts were no where to be seen. He could hear the words the man Steve was saying. He knew him. No matter. There was only the mission and for whatever reason he was too weak to accomplish it but he was getting stronger with each passing minute and soon, very soon he would be ready.
The Soldier closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He took an account of his body. Tried to assess his functionality. He moved his legs slightly to test if he could move, lifted his knees quietly to test for restraints: there were none. He moved the metal arm, flexing the fingers and shifting the plates subtly so as not to alarm the target. He moved his head on the pillow and tested if he would have his balance when the time was right. He could hear the man behind him, talking about something….he wasn't sure what he was saying…it didn't matter…as long as he kept babbling on, he wouldn't be suspicious as the Soldier reached his ready state.
He made his final assessment of the situation. He was as functional as he could manage, the target was in a low compromised position on the floor, he was talking and off balance, so the Soldier had the element of surprise. He told himself it was "go time" and braced to roll to his knees and swing full force at the man when something very strange happened.
The man kissed him on the top of his head. He was kneeling over him. Something wet dropped on his face, it was the man's tears. He could hear the man say "Bucky? Are you with me?"
"What the fuck?" was all he could think. The target kissed him?
"Bucky….please come back to me." The man was whispering in his ear.
"I'm right here asshole. What's with the crying?" Bucky snarked inside his head.
The Soldier hesitated. It was time to finish the mission but …..there was something else going on here. He got distracted by the man's words, his tears, and that other version of himself that was fading away.
"I feel like shit, pal….I aint got much left, Steve. I'm coming to an end." Bucky thought sadly.
"Bucky I am so sorry ….but I have to call for help….I have to call the medical team…I'm afraid you're dying…I cant lose you..even if you hate me for this…." Steve was sobbing over him.
"Pal…. I AM dying…it's the only way….it's you or me and I already made that choice, you idiot. You aint gonna die today if I can help it." Bucky was carrying on his end of the conversation with all sincerity except it was all in his head as he lay there on the floor, not moving, not blinking, barely breathing. But as Bucky faded away, the Soldier was building strength, enough strength to make one last stand. Take out Captain America and then he could die himself. A fitting end.
Steve was desperate as he watched the light fade in Bucky's eyes. The seizures were bad, a convincing sign that the serum wasn't going to save him, he was so beaten by malnutrition, lack of sleep, psychosis and who knows what else, that Steve realized he may very well lose Bucky if he didn't take action now.
"I have to get the phone buddy, I don't want to leave you but I can't just sit here and watch you die…I'll be right back, I promise….don't move…." And with that Steve kissed his head one more time and jumped up and ran down the stairs.
"NO…Steve…don't leave me…please…you said you wouldn't let go…" only Bucky could hear his own words and without Steve holding onto him, the Voice would come back and with it the Soldier would gain that final push of strength he would need to rise up.
Steve ran downstairs and frantically grabbed for the phone. He hadn't programmed the psychiatrist's number into his phone and had meant to put the medical team's number on speed dial. He had just met both of them the day before. He had to hunt for the phone, then the numbers…..just as he started to dial…..the world went dark.
He felt himself being dragged by his right arm across the living room floor. His head was pounding. He could feel a metal hand crushing his wrist. "Shit. Sam was right." Was the first thought that entered his head…then "What the hell is he doing?" was the second thought. He blinked hard to get his bearings and rolled over while reaching to grab at Bucky's leg to trip him up. He stumbled to his knees, Steve scrambled to pin him onto his stomach, he still had Steve's hand trapped; Bucky twisted and rolled as he fell forward, he landed on his back ...and grabbed Steve by the throat….at least it was his flesh hand; the metal one still held tight as Steve felt the seering jolt of pain as it snapped with the torque of the roll.
"Very good Soldier…you're almost there. Almost done now. Just kill him, finish him off. Then you get your reward. You get to sleep again."
The Voice was soothing, encouraging him to get the job done. He listened as it kept offering its approval. This was how they worked, how Hydra worked. Hurt…then praise…hurt…then praise…sometimes an apology after a particularly brutal hurt. Never an end.
Bucky's own voice stayed quiet in his head. He moved as the Soldier, listened as the Soldier but his own self, getting smaller and weaker, stayed quiet….but he was still there….and working on his own end game. He had to hide in his head until the time was right….if his plan was to work at all. Oh, he'd be free alright….not the Voice's kind of freedom…..that was a lie; a ploy to get him to keep going. He committed to his own freedom from Hydra, from the Voice, from the ghosts; even if it meant leaving Steve, even if it meant his own death. He couldn't bear being a threat to Steve any longer.
"Bucky stop it, stop it! It's me, Steve…I know you don't want to do this…Bucky!"
Steve grabbed at the flesh fingers; Bucky dragged them both to their feet…only to toss Steve backwards across the living room, crashing against the wall near the front door. He stalked forward; Steve was dizzy with the pain and shock of how this was going. How strong Bucky seemed…when a few minutes earlier he could barely move. Steve had an irrelevant thought…"adrenalin."
Steve begged as Bucky came closer…"Please Bucky, I know you're in there, I know you recognize me…don't give up….I will never let you go."
The Soldier was on him. Metal hand on his throat. Pinning him against the wall. Pressing hard against him. He felt his breath on his cheek, his hair was brushing against his lips. "Fuck…this is it." Steve thought. "this is where he kills me…"
A beat went by….then …."get out of here…Steve…get out….now." Bucky's voice was sandpaper, low and torn. He was so close Steve couldn't even see his eyes, his expression.
"No…I wont leave you…"
"get out of here ….asshole…I'm, I will kill you…." " GET OUTTA HERE NOW…"he screamed.
"no…I told you ….I wont let go…I wont leave…'
Bucky growled…a guttural agonizing sound. He pulled Steve away from the wall and threw him against the front door…the reinforced glass cracked.
Steve braced for another onslaught as the Soldier came at him again. But when he reached this time he grabbed the doorknob instead of Steve. The deadbolt held but the doorframe didn't. Steve found himself flat on his back at the foot of the stairs in a heartbeat. The last he heard from Bucky was "RUN…..Steve….just RUN." The door slammed behind him.
He heard the door open…."shit…I should've run…" he thought...then his cell phone and the truck keys landed next to him. He never even saw Bucky. He grabbed them and rolled slowly to his feet. His right wrist was swollen and blue, aching from the break. He took a step, then a second towards the house when the phone rang.
It was Sam.
"I saw it all….get the fuck out of there…NOW. He can't hear you, Steve."
"Sam, How did you know? ...I'm sorry…I didn't believe you…but I can't just leave him…"
Yes you CAN!" shouted Sam. 'you're no good to him dead and right now he's going to kill you if you stay…he told you that, man…"
Steve couldn't speak. His thoughts were racing.
"Steve listen to me, please…just drive off, so what if he wrecks the house…. it's all replaceable…you're not…we'll get help, we'll do the intervention like you wanted. We just need help to subdue him. We wont' hurt him, Steve…just get him corralled, get him someplace safe." "Drive away..now…he told you to leave, he doesn't want you there."
"Alright, Sam, alright…I'm leaving. I'll be at your place in an hour."
"Can you let Natasha know…not to come over here….I mean…she'll want to know..he lost..he's not doing well."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll call her just get in the truck now."