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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant	By : TheConstant1944 Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Captain America Views: 2391 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters. They are solely owned by Marvel and MCU. No money is made from this story.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Chapter Twenty-One
The Nurse & The Patient - The Abusers & The Abused

They have finally completed the last few pieces in the puzzle, and the new arm and hand are working.
They watch as the test results confirm their prognosis. Ever since they went with the second arm that incorporates a hand instead of implements, the patient seems to have become adjusted to the metal arm. But he is still quiet. He has rarely shown any emotion since that terrible night.
It has felt like a longer time to you despite being only six weeks in all. Since that night you are sure at times that something about your patient is...off. Just...not right. It's only a feeling, and of course you know what Lehmann thinks about your feelings.
Maybe he is right this time.
Maybe it is just tiredness and anxiety.
Since that night, the patient has seemed different somehow. It almost feels as if you are just seeing a façade that he wants you to see. He is quiet but will still do anything you ask of him. If they cause him pain, then he takes it. You had heard Lehmann describe him as a whipped puppy, and although you hated to agree with him, you understood what he had meant. Before, there had been a total innocence there, but now? Now, you are not so sure. Some of the time his eyes seem different, hooded, and a chill runs down your spine when you catch him watching you.
You berate yourself. You are looking for things. You are being stupid. You wonder if maybe it is because seeing him every day is screwing with your mind. You find yourself looking for characteristics of James, and because you are looking, instead you think you see glimpses of something else. You still haven't mentioned anything to Lehmann, but you have talked to Doctor Jakobs. He is learning to trust your feelings, but he has to admit to you that he himself has seen nothing.
Lehmann has been spending a lot of time with the team that will be responsible for “programming” the Winter Soldier. You have no idea what is meant by “programming,” and nobody will tell you. A new Austrian doctor has joined the team. You only know his nationality and name. Doctor Johann Fennhoff. You were there when he was introduced to Lehmann and when he conducted an initial examination of the patient. He did not say a lot in front of you, but he seemed pleased, almost smug, about something. You just don't know what. At first you thought he was a pleasant man, one that maybe still had humanity in his thoughts, but as he continued to examine your patient you began to change your mind.
There is something unpleasant about Fennhoff. Something that usually means Hydra has tainted more than his soul.
You hear Lehmann explain that James Barnes was an expert marksman, that he was able to fight, was a trained soldier. All that seems to have gone. “But there is no drive in him, no anger, no life. We successfully broke his mind...but have we broken more than that?”
Fennhoff smiles and shakes his head. “The potential will always be there,” he assures the director.
“So is there any other way of bringing back the killer instinct that was part of James Barnes?”
“I don't think you have anything to worry about. Everything we need is still there,” Fennhoff says.
What is it he has seen in the patient to make him think that? you wonder.
*
They have the patient in the Master Chair. You don’t know all that it does, and you have been told it is nowhere near completion, but they sit him in it to acclimatise him to it all the same. It is how they will control him in the future. They have mentioned such things as mind wipes. How are those any different to programming? They have still not let you into all of their secrets. Lehmann still does not trust you, does not like you to be present all the time, and more often than not you are not invited along until later. Or, if you are there, you are pushed to the back of the room, out of the way. Defunct.
They are running tests on the new arm and getting him to flex the new fingers. He does what they ask. His languages skills are coming along well, and he can understand enough Russian for them to not always need you as a translator. However, today you are taking notes for them. Not that you understand a lot of them – they seem to be just figures and more figures.
One of the doctors asks you to pass him something, and just as you turn back from doing so you see the patient move. He comes up out of the chair so quickly, so unexpectedly, that no-one can stop him. The guards have gotten sloppy, and do not even have their rifles or batons raised. There is talk of bringing in new weapons, hypodermic guns similar to those used to knock out animals. After today they will be more than just a thought.
(Authors note: For image see http://i.imgur.com/q70DXQM.png)
Within moments his metal hand is wrapped around your throat and he drives you backwards until he has you pinned against the wall. You hear the frightened yell of one of the doctors as the guards spring into action.
“Don't hurt him, for Christ's sake,” the doctor yells. He knows that if they use the batons it could wreck the circuity inside the metal arm, there is not full protection around it yet. Months of planning and work would be lost again. It hasn't occurred to the doctor that you are in trouble. Your life is worthless to that of the patient...and the stability of his arm.
“See how much they care about you. I could do anything I like, and no-one will stop me. I could carry on squeezing until you drop dead at my feet,” your patient says to you. His voice is quiet. This is just between you and him. He is looking at you; his eyes are deep, manic, evil, and cruel. You have never seen anything like it before, and you feel the metal band around your throat increase its grip.
You are sure he is going to kill you.
“I've wanted to talk to you for a long time,” he murmurs, and smiles. It is a thin-lipped, cruel smile, one that you have never seen before, one that makes your heart stop.
You are stood up on tip-toe, trying to breathe, and your hands are scrabbling at his arm, trying to get a grip to get him to release you, but he doesn't want to. Instead he leans forward until your faces are inches apart. You can smell his breath and see the madness in his eyes.
“Please,” you try to say but nothing comes out. He studies you. His other hand comes up and takes some of your hair in his hand; he leans even closer and, closing his eyes, he smells it. Then he opens his eyes. He moves even closer and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.
“I remember you from the showers.” His voice is deadly quiet, and the smile he gives you is the most frightening you have ever seen, tinged with his own madness. He wraps some of your hair around his finger. “So soft...so beautiful.” He presses his body up against you and you can feel his erection. You can't reply, you have no voice and not just because of his hand around your throat. You don't think you have ever been so frightened.
“Tell me, did you like the taste of me in the shower room?” Again quiet. That thin-lipped smile will stay with you for a long time.
Your mind scrabbles for an answer. How does he know? How could he possibly know something so personal? Unless...
He leans even further into you as if he is going to kiss you, so close as if he is taking in the very essence of you. He looks into your eyes, at your mouth. His other hand comes up and he runs a finger over your lips.
“I remember your mouth,” he says, his voice husky. Then he lets his fingers trail down your neck to your breast and into the v-neck of your uniform, “And the taste of your skin.”
His hand cannot go any further without undoing the buttons, his fingers move to the first and second ones and he undoes them. He slips his hand in further and cups your breast inside the lace of your bra. His hand is warm and you can feel him stroke your nipple with his thumb.
He closes his eyes for a moment. He can feel the beating of your heart thudding in your chest.
“So warm and soft.” He takes a deep breath.
He takes his hand out, still caressing your skin, and then steps back very slightly. He drops you but you are still forced up against the wall, his body blocking yours from falling all the way. His hand is still around your throat, his other one now on your shoulder. No one has seen what he did; his whole body was blocking sight of yours. You whimper, try to move his arm again, but it is impossible. He relaxes a small amount so that you can breathe easier. You are so terrified you feel as if you are going to pass out at any minute.
He raises his right hand and runs a finger down the side of your face, then takes up your plait and rubs the hair between his fingers to feel how soft the end of it is. He watches your eyes widen and it makes him grin. Not a normal grin, a death's mask grin. You feel sick. This is who has been watching you, the person you felt behind your discomfort. It is not James, though. You do not know who it is.
There are footsteps as Doctor Jakobs comes forward hesitantly.
“Please. Leave her alone. You're hurting her and I'm sure you don't mean to, come, sit down.” His English is terrible. The patient turns his head slightly to look at him, and Jakob sees madness and cruelty in his eyes.
The patient looks back at you and slowly his grip lessens again and you start to cough. You are still so frightened that you can hear your heart hammering in your ears. You can still feel the heat coming from his body, feel his breath on your face. Then he lets go completely and turns around. You grab hold of the corner of the desk to keep upright, your hand going to your throat, then down quickly to refasten the buttons of your uniform before anyone sees.
The guards point their rifles at him, he looks at the doctors frightened faces. The patient raises his hands, grins and steps back to the chair and sits back down. He flexes his new hand. He loves this new arm; there is so much strength in it, so much power. He knows that when all of the outer rings and plates go on there will be a red star at the top of the arm in honour of the Russian development team. It is, in effect, branding him as theirs; but he does not see that, to him it gives him an identity, a reason for being.
He is a killer, and he will kill.
Everyone releases their breath. The guards move closer to the patient and Doctor Jakob holds you by the arm. Your throat is badly bruised and one of the other doctors, Taffeteer, has the sense to bring some water over. You try and drink but find it difficult to swallow.
All the while the patient gazes at the new hand, holding it up, flexing the fingers. He then seems to realise the tenseness he is still causing – no-one has moved, no one wants to get any closer – and he lowers his arm, glances at you, then closes his eyes. He seems to relax. A change comes over his face and he sits back and his eyes open.
There is silence.
Doctor Jacobs sits you down. Then he approaches the patient who looks at him curiously as if wondering what is going on...as if he is now waiting for someone to tell him what they want him to do.
Everyone speaks at once. They have forgotten the sudden danger in the room, but you haven't. You look at the patient. He is watching you, and smiles - but it is not the thin-lipped smile, it is the smile he has given you since James went. The gentle smile. There is no danger in it at all.
Jakob moves to stand in front of him. “Do you know where you are?” He asks softly.
The patient looks surprised. “The main room,” he says.
“And do you know what just happened?”
The patient looks over Jakobs' shoulder at you, as if asking for clarification. He frowns when he sees that you appear upset.
“Do you?” Jakobs asks again, and the patient's eyes come back to him.
“We're testing my new arm?” he says, his tone making it sound more like he is asking a question or that he is expecting to be wrong.
“Are you aware you moved out of the chair?” Taffeteer asks, moving to stand beside Jakobs.
The patient frowns. “I'm not allowed out of the chair until you tell me I can move,” he says, looking from one doctor to another. He doesn't seem to understand what is happening, what is being asked of him.
Jakobs moves and the patient looks over at you again and the appeal in his eyes is hard not to react to. Has he done something wrong? His eyes are wide, and you know that is panic you see in them. You get up and go over to him and Jakobs steps back further so you can crouch down next to him. Your heart is still hammering, but you know the danger has passed.
“Have I done something wrong?” he asks you leaning forward.
There is absolutely no danger in him and you take his hand. Your voice is hoarse when you speak. “No, you haven't done anything wrong,” you smile. “But you did get out of the chair just now. Do you remember why?”
If he is going to admit anything to anyone, it will be you.
He is quiet for a moment and then he leans slightly more forward. “I felt tired. I think I fell asleep,” he says quietly. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to.”
You smile again because he is looking so worried. “Thats okay, it's all right. I think though we had better get you back to your room.”
You look at Jakobs and he nods.
You encourage the patient to stand up. You don't know if all the doctors agree with you that the testing session is over, but you can see something has completely drained him. “Do you still feel tired?” you ask as he stands. He nods. Two guards come up behind you and you see his eyes widen and for a moment the panic resurfaces.
You turn around and smile at them. “I don't think we need an escort.” You signal with your eyes that you do, in fact, but they get the idea they are to drop back and follow at a distance. You are still nervous. You still have the picture in your mind of that thin-lipped smile, and you can still feel the warmth of his hand on you.
You leave with the patient. Your throat feels like someone has tied a noose around it and if you were to move your collar you would see the bruising developing. You thought he was going to kill you but now - now you think he was just playing with you. Like a cat plays with a bird just before it intends to seriously harm it.
“Will you be all right?” Jakobs asks, and you nod. “Good. I'll pop by when we're finished up in here.”
Jakobs waits until she leaves before he allows his revelation to escape his lips: “My God, his new personality is split. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it.”
“Jesus. Who's going to tell Lehmann?” Taffeteer asks.
*
Later, when Lehmann sees the footage caught on camera, he is actually pleased. It is as Fennhoff predicted, here is what he had been hoping to grow. There is another personality that will be willing to do the evil things needed of it. He hasn't realised yet that there is too much madness in this one. There is no pity, cruelty and evil is what drives it. It is cunning, but it cannot control its urges.
Fennhoff believed he saw this other personality hiding. It will take time for them to work on combining what they need from the two personalities to create the perfect assassin.
To create their Winter Soldier.
*
For the first few days you are afraid to be alone with your patient, and for the first time ever you ask Marinov if a guard can stay in the room with you at all times. The patient seems to be puzzled. He can sense your fear, but not what causes it. You are sure a few times you have caught the other one looking at you and the smile he gives you is so frightening you begin to jump at your own shadow.
Doctor Lehmann actually notices your frayed nerves and asks you if you want to be taken off the project. He will use any excuse to get you away from the Winter Soldier if he can. Despite being Director, he still cannot get Zola to agree to your being dismissed. Your presence annoys him. You refuse to go but Lehmann is wearing you down. He is continually watching you, looking for any excuse, waiting for you to say you have had enough and accept the bullet and lonely grave he has planned for you. But you made a promise to James, and you are not fully convinced now that James is dead. Not after the words the second personality said to you. Sometimes you wonder bleakly if it just because of your own need for James that makes you think that. But if he is in there somewhere you cannot leave him.
You talk to Stefan about Lehmann. “He wants me to go, to leave...my patient,” you say as you and he are changing the bed, sorting things out in the patients room. “He has never liked me being part of the project.”
“Thats because he can't control you. He knows your loyalty is to...” Stefan looks briefly over to the patient, then back at you. “...watch yourself Freya, watch your back. I think Lehmann will do anything to get rid of you, don't give him any reason to.”
“I know, but...” you catch Stefan's arm and look into his eyes, “if he does please, please look after James, don't leave him.”
Stefan puts his hand over hers and tries to smile.
“Don't even think about it. I don't think Zola would agree.” He sees the need in her eyes, she needs him to agree. “But, yes of course I will stay with our patient, for as long as Lehmann lets me that is. I'm not too popular as it is, I think they only let me stay because Doctor Jakobs vouches for me.”
Whilst she is talking to Stefan, the patient sits in the chair watching them. They are both talking quietly but he can still hear them and neither of them realise he is taking in all that they are saying. He notices a lot that goes on, more than they give him credit for. There are times when the first personality is asleep and the second is awake. He is cunning enough to know they trust the first one so he pretends to be him.
After all the first personality is so quiet it is easy for them to forget he is there.
*
Jakobs comes back from one of his visits with Freya feeling troubled. It has been a week since the attack. The bruising around her throat is fading and her voice is not so husky, but it is the look in her eyes that worries him. He had seen that look so many time before in his mother's eyes just after his father had beaten her once again. The look that said she believed she had deserved the punishment. And the feeling was so powerful that she would never believe him when he told her she didn't deserve the beatings, he could see that somehow she thought it was her fault. She would smile sadly and kiss him on the head and tell him not to worry.
“Go play with your friends. Leave your father to me.”
When he was old enough he would ask his mother why she stayed, why she continually put up with the moods, the rages.
“Because I love him, and in his own way he loves me,” she told him. And he could see in her eyes she truly believed that.
He would always rail against her answer. “Surely you can't believe that! How can someone love a person yet continually beat them, continually hurt them! You make excuses for him but there is no excuse, there can be no excuse!”
“You never met your Grandfather. I have known your father since we were children living next door to each other. Your grandfather would beat his son black and blue. Your father believed he deserved it, and it made him into what he is. He does not understand any other way. You have to understand, in our day, growing up was…different. It was understood that parents disciplined their children and husbands disciplined their wives. Your father and I were lucky to have each other.” She said simply.
She had believed it with all her soul, and what is more he could see something else in her eyes. She believed she deserved the treatment. What could possibly have made her like this? He did not understand until he spoke of his mother's words to his university professor who lectured on such relationships and had a theory regarding them. They talked long into the night.
“I have always believed that mostly in life two things happen to those abused. They themselves either become an abuser, or they believe it is what they deserve and end up in an abusive relationship. Perhaps your mother was trying to tell you they were both abused as children, and they came out of it with each other. He believed it was right to hurt her and she believed he was right to do so as that is what she deserved in life.” His professor told him.
“However...” his Professor continued, “that is not to say that there are people out there who are evil and would use that as an excuse to prey upon those weaker than them and hope to turn all good to their way...to evil. It is a hard lesson to learn in life.”
Jakobs disagreed with the first part. “I was abused. It wasn't just my mother who met with my father's disapproval. As soon as I was old enough to answer back, my father took to knocking me down even though she tried to stop him, tried to divert his attention away from me but sometimes she wasn't there, sometimes...” he hesitated. “...but look at me, I am neither an abuser nor a victim now. I love my wife, my babies, and I will never lay a hand on them.”
And he had always kept his promise.
Never once did he berate them. Never once did he lift his hand to his wife or his children.
Now, here in the present day, he sits down heavily on his bed. “But what am I now? Have I become an abuser?” he murmurs to himself. He became a doctor to help people. When he had lost his family, he hadn't known what to do, who to turn to. And Armin Zola used that moment against him. “Does that make Armin an abuser or does it make him evil?” he wonders.
They had taken James Barnes, by all accounts a decent man; someone who did not abuse others. They had taken that innocence and turned it into violence, turned Barnes into an abuser. Because that is what he has become. Evil had come along and twisted and tortured a soul and stained it. Jakobs recognised the look in the patient's eyes when he turned to him whilst holding Freya. It had been like looking into the eyes of his father. He has since seen that second personality watch her, and he could see the hunger in it's eyes for her.
He has seen that thin-lipped smile. This aspect of the Winter Soldier won't just hit his nurse, he will take everything from her he can and leave her with nothing.
He believed James Barnes had grown to love Freya, and now his personality was split those two would always be a part of the final soldier they made. A passive side who still loved the nurse and would do anything to please her. And then an aggressive side who still loved the woman but would want to dominate and control her; would hurt her.
And where did this leave Freya?
She loved James Barnes with a love that went beyond all other things, Jakobs knows that. He is convinced that at some time she has been abused, mentally or physically, and probably by her parents. She has mentioned in the past that her mother had been a troubled person. Jakobs knows that Freya believes she is worth nothing. He could see it in her. In one way it was a strength almost; her existence did not matter and so she took chances, it seemed sometimes to give her a resilience against life. But in another way, besides her love for Barnes, it was her greatest weakness because she will not protect herself against him, she will allow him to hurt her and then she will return for more.
Had Jakobs helped forge that?
Yes. He had become an abuser. The last thing he had ever wanted.
On a larger scale he realises that this is what Hydra will create worldwide and that he has had played a small part in it. What is he doing here? Why did he ever listen to Armin? He feels like he has wandered into a nightmare and lost his way. Now all he can do is try to help. All he can do is be here when Freya starts to have the accidents that will follow when the second personality is in charge.
He rubs at his face with his hands and stands up.
Nothing he can say will ever change Freya's mind. It is too inbuilt in her from childhood. She did not have the potential to become an abuser, but, she will accept being abused and all he can do is be there for her when she needs him. Patch her back up when the patient has finished with her and she needed medical attention because it would happen, it will happen, he can't stop it.
No one can.
*
You are woken by a hand over your mouth. It jerks you wide awake. You know who it is. You recognise his stance, his smell, the way his hair falls over his face. The light from underneath the door shows his silhouette. How did he get out of his room? Why is he here?
He is bare chested, but has shorts on. His feet are bare, and he is so very silent when he wants to be. He releases you and holds a finger over his lips and you nod. He knows he can trust you, but you have forgotten for just a moment you cannot always trust him.
He looks to the closed door and listens for a moment but he has time. He knows he has time. Rounds are not for another two hours, and they will not find the dead guard if they happen to pass that way. He has hidden him too well.
“What's happened? Are you all right?” You reach over to switch on the lamp and he stays your hand. He doesn't let it go but he turns to look at you. You can see by the light coming in from under the door.
His eyes. Deep and black.
It is the other one.
He smiles in that cruel thin-lipped way of his. He pushes your hand back down onto the bed and holds it there. He puts one knee on the bed, leaning towards you.
“What are you doing? No...no! Let me go.” You hear the immediate fear in your voice and you know he has sensed it too. You try to move but his metal grip increases until you are sure your fingers are going to break. He reaches with his right hand and pulls your bedclothes away.
You move to hit him with your other hand but he catches that to and transfers it to his metal grip. He then moves to hold both of your hands over your head against the pillow. You still struggle, you can see the look in his eyes as he relishes this power he has over you, and you see a hunger and madness in them. Your stomach drops and you begin to sweat, begin to panic.
He takes hold of the collar of your nightdress and rips downwards, tearing it open. His eyes follow the tear and you are aware of the look on his face. He is hungry, very hungry. You feel the cool air on your naked skin.
You are still struggling and it annoys him. He hits you across the face, and the blow is a powerful one. Your head rocks and your ears ring. For a moment you feel as though you are underwater and you are going to drown. You try to struggle to sit up, but you are dazed and uncoordinated from the punch. A trickle of blood runs from your mouth and you can taste the saltiness of it.
He takes this opportunity to let you go. He removes his shorts, and you know he is going to rape you. You can see his need for you; he is hard, and you turn your head away and try to move but you are still uncoordinated and dizzy. Your head is still ringing with the blow and he is back before you can do anything more.
You could struggle. You could cry out and hope someone hears you, but you know as well as he does that they would not stop him. He is far more valuable than you are. You have no faith in your own worth to know you will get any help.
He moves to straddle you, and you feel the heat of his skin. You smell his male smell and your heart beats faster. You can feel the weight of his balls and his cock pushes against your stomach, hard and red, swollen. You have never been with a man before.
How badly will he hurt you?
“Please no,” you say, your eyes filling with tears. Your hands are free now and you push ineffectually at him, making him grin. He takes your chin in his hand and makes you look at him, he bends down to kiss you; you try to move your head but his hold is firm. His lips find yours and you feel his tongue demanding entrance to your mouth. Then he is exploring you and you can taste him, feel the warmth of his mouth, taste his spit.
As he kisses you he moves to cover your body with his, stretching out over you so he can feel you all at once. He dominates you. His skin against yours. His skin is so hot, making you panic, and you feel claustrophobic. You can't breathe. His mouth is on yours and his weight pins you down; you can't take a deep breath. For a moment you feel as if you are going to suffocate and then he moves slightly to let you breathe.
His mouth releases her and his tongue licks over his lips and then he is looking at her. Her eyes are wide, the pupils black. He reaches forward and pulls her hair forward and smells it and then wraps it around the metal. His other hand begins to travel over her soft, warm body and he closes his eyes before she sees the desperation in them.
“Please don't,” you whisper. But your mind asks if you are lying. Do you really want him to stop? You want him to love you, to make love to you, this is all the affection you deserve, what more is anyone ever going to give you?
You can feel his rock hard erection against you. You know the size of it, you know the texture from the times you have helped him in the shower, you even know the taste of him; but you have never known him inside of you and the thought makes your stomach turn, not with sickness but with a disturbing excitement. A heat starts in your lower belly and you are ashamed by the excitement you feel; at the sudden wetness between your legs. He looks so much like James, smells like him, and you can no longer be certain he isn't in there somewhere. You have wanted James for so long, wanted him to touch you, wanted to feel him between your legs.
What does that make you?
He wraps more of your hair around his fist and gently pulls your head back, he kisses your neck and you shiver and close your eyes. Then his lips move down to your breast and he sucks, making your nipple hard. The rest of his body moves against yours and you don’t want him to stop. Your legs are open, you are not even aware of how much your body is betraying you. Your hands are on his back, no longer pushing him away instead your nails dig into his skin as if to hold him there on top of you.
He pushes her legs further open and she lets him. He senses a change in the way her body moves with his, and the gasp she makes when he touches her between her legs and for a moment he moves to look at her.
“Open your eyes,” he says quietly. She does as he asks. Her eyes have turned to liquid, and he can see himself mirrored in them.
His fingers are exploring you, and the sensation is taking your breath away. You can feel him, his fingers find you and enter and his eyes flash. You feel them plunge into you and you want him to push them deeper. You lift your hand and pull his head back down to you and you kiss him deeply and this time your tongue explores his mouth whilst your hands explore his body. His stubbled cheeks chafe yours.
Sickeningly, you realise too late - you want this man, no matter which one it is. You have wanted him for such a very long time. Your hand travels down between his legs and you grip his erection. You have a moment's hesitation - he is so big - and you are unsure if he is too big for you, but his hand then covers yours and he guides himself between your legs, his fingers holding you open until he enters you.
You moan when he does and your legs move to go around his.
He senses she is holding her breath, waiting for pain, and in that split second realises he is the first. He didn't know and the thought of it makes his stomach clench. She has never been with anyone else, never known another man.
She is his completely.
He breathes deeply and holds himself back from pushing all the way in. He kisses her and then as he thrusts himself forward he strokes her hair, drinks in her eyes.
“It's all right...” he whispers because he knows it has hurt you, he knows he is big. You look into his eyes and yours are full of trust.
You fool.
He smiles and dips his head and bites her neck. She cries out and tries to pull away.
“Ssshhh...no, no,” he says again, looking back at her. He wants this reaction from her, he wants to teach her that with pleasure always comes pain. Because it is what they have taught him. His logic has been totally fucked up and he will do the same to her until she doesn't know who she is any more, the only thing she will know is she belongs to him.
He doesn't even know who he is, but he knows there are times when she sees someone in him and that makes the jealousy rise up in his chest, twinned with another emotion - panic. His mind is garbled; screwed up, with memories running amok. At its worst, when his head is about to split open, a memory of her is always there, not necessarily the same one, but she is there to calm him, tell him he is not alone and that she will never leave him. It takes the noise away, gives him peace so much that he wants to crawl inside her and hide until it has all gone away.
When the first personality is awake he can control him, suggest things to him, but when he takes over the first one is totally encompassed and sleeps to get away from the awful thoughts that runs through its shared mind.
Dangerous, because also in the jumble of his mind is another memory of her. He is strapped to a table. They are hurting him, and she is there. He is begging them to stop, to stop hurting him. They do not listen, she is holding his hand but does not stop them, just leans over and tries to comfort him. Why didn't she help him? Why does she let them continue to hurt him? And so now pain is all he has to offer her, and he wants to punish her for what she helped do to him. He wants to see the pain in her eyes, wants to see the damage he does to her body and mind because then, it will make her the same as him and she won't leave.
But he is devious, this one. He knows now is not the time to hurt her too badly. Time is what he has most of and the pleasure of hurting her can be put off for another day.
He really is so very fucked up. But then so is she.
He is holding you and his thumb is stroking your nipple, almost as if he is trying to soothe you, and you feel a heat inside that you didn't know was possible. Your whole body is crying out for him to touch you, you no longer care if it hurts you; your legs wrap themselves around his hips, driving him deeper. You feel him inside you slowly moving up and down and you respond. His hands are now exploring you again and your hands are moving over his back, down and you can feel this sense of urgency building in you.
You can see it is also building in him and he lifts himself slightly so he can look at you again, look into your eyes. He wants to see the moment he takes you, the moment he believes you truly become his. You can see this in his eyes and you know they are the windows to his black soul. You bite your lip and he moves faster, harder, and you feel the sensation inside you drowning out everything. Your legs stay wrapped around his to keep him deeply inside; you cry out quietly and move with him and then its as if the world explodes around you. A sensation that rocks you and before you close your eyes and give yourself to it you see the triumph in his eyes. Your whole body tenses and you cannot hold him close enough, your head tips back and your hair flows over your shoulders and you cry out louder and beg him not to stop.
To move into you further.
To not let you go.
He gives himself over to his climax and he holds you to him so hard for a moment you can't breathe. Hot liquid spills into you, mingles with yours, and you hear his moan as he buries his face in your hair and he grips you as if he is drowning.
Then you are both coming down from it, back to reality. All you can hear is the heavy breathing as you both try and catch your breath. Your heart is beating so fast and your whole body feels as if it has just been through an intense electric shock. You never knew anything like this could happen.
You feel his weight move and you open your eyes, aware of the smell of sex on both of you. He leans over and with a metal finger traces your lips, almost forcing the metal into your mouth. Then he bends forward and you think he is going to kiss you but instead he whispers in your ear.
“Whore. You belong to me, every part of you. I can do what ever I want to you, and no one will stop me. No-one will ever help you, you can't even help yourself. You opened your legs to me so easily.”
Your emotions crash around you as you look into those cruel eyes, as you see him smile.
He moves to look at you, to see what reaction his words have caused, and you feel a terror in your heart. This evil side, this madness contained within the Winter Soldier, this has played with you. Did any of it mean anything to him?
He moves away and you feel him get off the bed and stand. He reaches for his shorts and pulls them back on. You grasp the first thing that comes to hand to cover yourself but he turns and takes it away from you. His gaze lingers on your body, and you try to cover yourself with your hands. He smiles that cruel thin-lipped smile of his.
“Why so modest? You're a natural! You just couldn't wait to be fucked could you?”
Then he places a finger on his lips as you begin to sob and kneels on the bed. You want to move away but you can't. Tears are rolling down your throbbing cheek from where he hit you. He holds you under the chin and lifts your head, then very gently leans forwards, tastes your tears and kisses your lips, you can taste the saltiness on them. Your heart is beating so hard you are sure he can hear it.
Then he pulls away and without a backward glance leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You didn't realise you were holding your breath until you hear the click of the lock and then you gasp and catch your breath. Your whole body is starting to ache, and your fingers feel your cheek. It is swollen, bruised. You feel the liquid running down your leg. You know it is his semen mixing with your wetness. You pull the sheets and your ruined nightgown into a ball and you curl around it.
What has he made you?
What are you becoming? Your mind tells you that you deserve what he said.
You welcomed everything he did and more.
Your self worth is not just low, it is non-existent. Your parents could not love you. James Barnes did not love you. And now this man, this Winter Soldier, just wants you because you are nothing but a whore to him. Surely so many people can't be wrong; you are truly not worth anything.
This is all you deserve.
*
He isn't finished yet. He has one more thing to do before going back to his room.
Although Lehmann is now directorate of the facility, he has never bothered to have his bedroom moved; after tonight he will. The patient silently lets himself into Lehmann's room and enjoys the fear and panic in Lehmann's eyes when he wakes him. He straddles Lehmann, looking down at him with no compassion, no mercy in his eyes.
That look is one of the most terrifying things Lehmann has ever seen but he doesn't want this...thing...to see the panic he is feeling.
“What do you want?” he asks. Give him his due; there is only a slight tremor in his voice, no one would guess the fear that is clutching him inside. He has never been so frightened in his life as he is now looking up at this madman they have created.
“You want to get rid of my nurse,” the patient says, giving Lehmann no clue as to where this is going.
Lehmann frowns but does not say anything, and the patient leans down and that is when Lehmann sees the knife in his hand. "She...belongs...to...me,” the patient says emphatically. His eyes leave no doubt that he means what he says.
Lehmann swallows.
“Do you understand?” The patient continues. “She is my property. You will not take her away from me. You will never take her away from me, because if you do I will kill you.”
Lehmann is in no position to argue.
“I asked if you understand?” The patient brings the knife to Lehmann's throat.
“Yes,” Lehmann says and the patient leans back.
“I want her with me.”
“With you?”
“I want access to her whenever I want her. She will belong to me and only me.”
Lehmann frowns again, his mind racing. The patient is mad, even he can see it. How the hell is he ever going to make a soldier out of this, one who will obey orders, this one will kill all right and probably enjoy it but they need more stability.
“Do you mean...” He gets no further. The patient is smiling, and it is a terrifying sight.
“I mean if I want to fuck her, she will be there. If I want to hurt her, no-one will interfere. I mean that she is mine, and mine only. She will share a room with me. She will be there whenever I need her in every way and at any time. Is that clear enough for you?” He is deliberately crude, spells out exactly what he wants.
Lehmann is fast. “And if I say yes?”
The patient smiles again. “Then I will do anything and everything you say.”
And as Lehmann agrees to it the patient slits open Lehmann's top. His eyes widen. “I've agreed...what...” as the knife blade digs into his skin and opens a shallow wound in his chest.
“Just a little reminder so you don't forget,” the patient says and climbs off the bed.
At the door he turns around. “And no-one, but no-one, interferes. Not the guards, not the doctors. She is my property,” he reiterates and then he is gone.
No one else has heard what they talk about and when he leaves Lehmann is grateful to still be alive.
He knows now what this soldier wants, and in return he will co-operate with them. It doesn't occur to Lehmann not to give him what he asks for; he knows if he had refused they would have found him in the morning with his throat cut.
Besides which, it is simple request as far as he is concerned. In the grand scheme of things, they have gotten off relatively lightly.
*
The next morning you are summoned to Director Lehmann's office. He ignores the bruising on your face and the tiredness in your eyes. You know it is not worth telling him what happened during the night.
He tells you what he has decided and accepts no argument from you. You are stunned.
From now on, you will not just be the patient's nurse, you will be his companion and you will share a room with him. Arrangements are already being made, and you will be instructed where your new sleeping quarters are later this week.
He does not ask you what you think and you are too stunned to ask any questions. It feels like a dream.
You leave the office, dazed, and you feel totally and utterly alone. But worse, much worse there is a small part of you that likes what it heard, has set your heart beating fast, and you despair.
What have you become?
A few days later both you and the patient are moved into a larger room with an adjoining bathroom/shower, a double bed, wardrobe, a desk, and even a small area to prepare drinks. Every night the heavy metal door will be locked from 9pm until 7am in the morning. There is a slot where the guards can check on what is happening when the door is locked. At present there will be no permanent guard outside the door because the room you are in is closer to one of the locked gateways but every two hours two guards will patrol and ensure there is nothing amiss.
Marinov speaks quietly to Stefan and asks him to let you know they have been told only to react to you if the patient is in trouble. If you are the one in trouble they are not allowed to interfere. They are to ignore you, no matter what the patient is doing to you. He doesn't like it but those are his orders.
Stefan is concerned and wants to talk to Lehmann but you tell him no, it is your problem you will sort it out. You thank him, you know he cares for you and that thought is one you are grateful for.
You have hardly any possessions so it takes no time at all to move you to your new life.
You are the patient's companion now, you will still act as his nurse when needed and you are there to serve him...in whatever way the patient wants, or sees fit.
You report to and only to Lehmann.
“Hail Hydra,” were Lehmann's last words to you, and the smile he gave you when you left the room was chilling and final.
He always wins because evil always does.
Or so he has always believed.
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant