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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
- 33
- 34
- 35
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Constant & Winter Soldier – Branded

(Authors note: For image please use: http://i.imgur.com/rj3nmzH.jpg )
It is a totally normal day for you. The Winter Soldier has been brought out for training and you are trying to find things to keep you occupied in the meantime. Using one of the only two keys, you unlock the store room cupboard. There are several of these rooms you have to keep stocked, but this one relates to the Winter Soldier and contains everything needed from tee-shirts to knives. Looking around it now, you feel people would be surprised to know how mundane some of the supplies are.
You are working on the inventory check when the door opens and closes. You turn, expecting to see maybe Stefan, but instead it is one of the new guards. You don't like this man. He is always hanging around, always trying to talk to you. He is one of those people who invades people's personal space.
You don't say anything, just finish your task and go to move past him to leave - but he steps and blocks the doorway.
He is new. They have warned him to stay away from this woman, but he thinks he knows better. He has listened to the other guards; this woman is a challenge they are too frightened to take on. Tonight he is determined he will be able to boast a conquest.
Wrong. Tonight he will be dead.
“Excuse me please,” you say and reach around to get the handle but he stays your hand and you snatch it away.
“Don't be like that,” he says and moves closer. He is smiling and touches your arm.
Your heart begins to race. You can smell his bad breath as he leans in towards you as if to tell you a secret.
“Come on. I'm sure by now you are missing a man. A proper man that is.” His hand reaches out and touches your breast and you slap it away and then slap his face.
“Get out. Now!” you hiss but he just laughs.
This stupid man has never seen the Winter Soldier in action. Has never seen him in a rage. He doesn't realise how near he is to being wiped off the face of the earth.
“You think I'm afraid of your boyfriend?” he sneers.
“You should be,” you say, and you try once again to move past him but he grabs you around the waist, swinging you as he does. You drop your papers and struggle against him, but he is pressing his whole disgusting body into yours and is trying to force his tongue into your mouth.
You do the first thing your body and mind tells you to and knee him in the balls - hard, and you put all your strength behind it. You hear the air expel from his lungs as he falls to his knees and you manage to get the door open, but he is quick and grabs at the bottom of your skirt, then your ankle.
You have the door open and you are one step outside but his hand stops you. You are frightened, if he pulls you back in, he will hurt you and your chance for escape will be gone.
“Please help! Anyone! Help!” you scream just as the guard regains his breath and pulls you back inside, straight onto the ground. The door swings closed and you feel panic surround you.
“No! No! Let go, no...” He is on top of you. He punches you hard in the head. He yanks open the first three buttons and tears your blouse. For a moment you think you are going to black out and he takes that opportunity to reach for his zip.
“No...” Your lip is bleeding, and you are the one who is winded now. “No...”
But before he can go any further you hear the door open, and someone takes hold of the guard from behind and pulls him backwards and out of the store room. Another guard comes in and sees it is you and swears. He helps you up. As you leave the room, the other guards are trying to talk sense to the guard who tried to rape you.
He is not listening.
Suddenly you are aware of them all going quiet, and you look up to see the Winter Soldier. He is watching. No one saw him arrive.
The new guard tries to pull his zip up addressing himself to the Winter Soldier.
“She asked me to help her and then when we were in there she wanted me to fuck her...”
You cannot believe the bare-faced lie.
“You know how woman are,” he is whining now, thinking he is talking man-to-man. The other guards do not know where to look, and all stare at the floor. They want no part of this.
“Is that why her lip is bleeding?” the Winter Soldier looks at him and asks quietly.
One of the other guards tries to walk away but the Winter Soldier's raised hand stays him.
He is calm, cool, looks you up and down, and then back at the new guard.
“She said she liked it rough.” The new guard thinks he is being clever. He knows how they have heard you cry out at night, can all see cuts and bruises the next day.
The Winter Soldier looks back at you and indicates you are to go. Your eyes are full of tears; surely he won't believe the man? You go to speak and he shakes his head and so you turn and limp away back to your room.
He is so angry, so very angry. She is his, she is his property and only his, his possession. How dare anyone think otherwise? He looks back at the guard and sees right through the man. He has met his type before. He looks back at the other guards, and then walks up to the new guard, who backs away until he is against the wall.
He thought he had gotten away with it. But he has never before seen such coldness in someone's eyes and he realises the mistake he has made.
He starts to splutter, blaming her, saying she said she wanted a man, saying she had said things about the Winter Soldier's lack of prowess. He is just digging his grave deeper.
The Winter Soldier reaches up and pats the man on the shoulder, and stupidly the man breathes a sigh of relief until the hand moves to the back of his head and grabs him, pulling him so close he thinks the Winter Soldier is going to kiss him. He looks into the cold eyes and wets himself as the Winter Soldier tightens his hand and pulls to the side, cracking the mans spinal cord in half and breaking his neck.
He lets the body go and it falls down into its own pool of urine.
The Winter Soldier turns to the guards. This is the third guard to their knowledge he has killed. They do not even think to raise their guns.
“Take him out and put him somewhere as a warning. Do you understand? This will not happen again. Do I make myself clear?” he says to them.
They nod, they understand exactly what he is saying: she is out of bounds. They start to drag the body away, grateful that he hasn't blamed them all.
He was on his way to training and he continues, believing the guard to have been totally at fault, but as the afternoon wears on he begins to think and in his mind he sees Freya and the guard together. His paranoia begins to gather in force. He remembers what they have told him about her, how they call her a whore. Surely there must be some grounds for such an accusation? He is not supposed to have feelings but his rages are so cold, so deadly and by the time afternoon comes he feels he is almost ready to kill again.
Perhaps she has forgotten she belongs to him. He needs to remind her, to mark her as his.
You enter your room in your dressing gown after having your second shower of the day. Your face throbs where the guard punched you, and your mouth is bruised. You feel as though you can't get clean.
The Winter Soldier is sat on his bed.
You are surprised - you didn't think you would see him this early. You have stayed in your room all morning and spoken to no one, and so you do not know about the guard.
He looks at you, and immediately you can see by the the look on his face, the look in those eyes, that it is you who has done something wrong. He blames you. What has the guard said?
He stands up and strides over to you, his whole body taut, the look on his face is one of pure malevolence. You take a step back, you cannot help it, you love this man but you are petrified of this insane side of him.
“I didn't do anything, I promise. He is lying to you, please believe me...” you gabble, your voice breaking. You know he blames you. Somehow it must be your fault.
He grabs your wrist and pulls you close to him and that thin lipped cruel smile makes you shudder.
“You are mine, and only mine. You obviously still don't understand that yet.” He holds you so tight you can't breathe and when he talks spittle lands on your face.
Turning he pushes you down onto the bed, onto his bed, and you wriggle up more to get away from him than to be comfortable. He kneels and then moves to straddle you, and without any warning reaches down and tears open your dressing gown, exposing your naked body.
He is savage.
“I need to teach you a lesson.”
He is so angry, and you are petrified.
His knife appears in his hand and for a minute you think he is going to kill you but instead he leans back and presses the cold steel on your stomach, you breathe in deeply so the point will not penetrate your skin.
“Who do you belong to?” he asks. His voice deceptively soft, but the knife presses down and you can't help but whimper.
“You,” you say quietly.
His eyes are boring into yours. He moves his head slightly as if to indicate he cannot hear you.
You clear your throat and say it louder, your voice still trembles though.
“You.”
“Something you seem to have forgotten...you belong to me. You are my property.”
He is never this vocal.
He moves back slightly and the knife is drawn downwards.
“Please, no, I didn't do anything wrong...he just came in when I was in there and started on me. I tried to get away...please, please don’t hurt me.” You start to cry as the knife draws a line across your pants and down. You can feel the coldness of the blade through them. If he presses any harder on the blade it will slice the material and your skin open.
It reaches the top of your inner thigh and then you feel the blade pierce your skin and you gasp. He digs the tip of the blade in and it feels like he draws something. It isn't until he moves again that you begin to feel a stinging sensation where the knife went in. Pain starts to creep into your lower belly. He hasn't finished. You feel the knife dig in again, and the stinging sensation increases and so does the pain.
He has frightened you before, played these games, but this time there is more of a coldness about him you have ever seen. This time he is going to kill me.
He moves the knife back up and wipes blood off the blade onto the bedclothes. Without realising you were holding your breath, you breathe again. He moves himself up slightly further and places the knife blade to your cheek intending to mark you there as well...but he can't bring himself to do it. He doesn't want to break your skin. Not on your face, not there.
Instead, he moves so his knee is holding down your left arm and hand. The weight hurts and you think he is going to break the bone, especially when he twists your arm so he can see the side of it. Then he leans over and holds your arm with his left hand whilst his right takes a firm hold of his knife. You can't see what he is doing but you feel the tip of the blade pierce the skin at the top of your arm. It moves deeper into the flesh and you gasp. He draws the blade across and then back again, blood spatters the bed and the floor and the pain makes you feel nauseous.
This is deeper than whatever he did on your thigh, much deeper.
“Please no, please. It hurts. Please stop,” you beg, trying to move, but he is too strong. He carries on and for a moment you think you are going to pass out. The pain intensifies as he carries on drawing the knife back and forward and then he puts the blade on the table. It is covered in blood. Your blood. You can see his hand is bloody, and whatever he tries to do next he has trouble with because of the slickness of the liquid.
Blood is pounding in your ears and you feel weak. You try to beg him again but your mouth has gone dry and no words come out.
You hear and feel an intense ripping sound and more pain shoots through your arm. He finally moves backwards and throws something away from him; you can't see what it is. Your arm is bleeding badly and you try to move to look, but he still has you pinned down. He wraps a piece of sheet around the top of your arm and then his attention comes back to you. There is a splattering of your blood on his face.
“You are nothing to me, but you do belong to me. It seems I have to remind people of that.” He leans over you wrapping his bloodied hand in your hair to pull your face closer to his.
“Nothing!” He lets your hair go and tears run down your face. You close your eyes to shut out the contempt and hatred on his features and in his voice. Your arm throbs in tune with your thigh, and you can feel your heart beating faster.
“Look at me,” he growls.
Instead you tighten your closed eyes and he slaps you with his left hand. The metal nearly breaks your cheekbone and splits the lip already hurt this morning and leaves your head ringing.
“Look at me when I'm talking to you!”
You do.
His metal hand has some of your blood on it. He looks at you, and then, leaning in closer, he takes hold of more of your hair and uses it to wipe his hand clean, a look of absolute disgust on his face.
“You...are...mine. My property...mine. If you ever do anything like that again I will take you apart. Do you understand?...Do you?” He reiterates each word.
You are so frightened, so traumatised you can't answer but he sees the wideness of your pupils and knows you have gotten the message.
Then, letting go of your hair, he moves back and off the bed.
For a moment he just stares down at you, his eyes travelling down your body. You bring your arms up, you don’t want him looking at you and you try and cross them over your breasts. You feel the stickiness of the blood and your left arm is so painful you have trouble with the co-ordination of it.
He is looking at your face now, and the sneer tells you he finds you repulsive. You are not even worth any more words. He turns and leaves the room.
You pull one of the sheets to you and curl up on top of the bed and sob as if your heart is breaking. He is your life, your whole existence. Will he be back? Will he still want you as his companion? As his Constant? But then the other questions come into your mind. How can you want to live with such a monster? What does that make you? It isn't rational but you do not care, because if he doesn't want you anymore then your life is over, and at the moment you do not want to live.
How pathetic are you?
The pain in your left arm reminds you it is there and the stinging on the top of your thigh. You are frightened to look but you do. Excised into the inside your thigh at the top of your leg is a star. Blood dribbles down onto the sheets; it is far more than just a scratch, and when it heals it will leave a ribbed scar. The skin around it is bruised.
“Oh God, oh God,” you don’t realise you are talking, words running into each other. You turn to look at your left arm. The covering is soaking wet with blood and it takes you a moment of fumbling to pull it off. Pain lances through you and you think you are going to vomit.
On the top of your arm he has drawn a shape and then torn the whole patch of skin away to leave another red star. Blood wells out of every part of it and the air seems to make it hurt even more. It is the same size of the star he wears on his left arm. The bruising around it makes it throb even more; you can see where his fingers held you down so tightly.
He has marked you. No. He has branded you. You are his, and there are now two warnings on you telling everyone you belong to him.
No one can ever say they didn't know.
*
Later he returns to his room. It is quiet. His bed is still a mess, all the bed clothes stained and rucked up; blood spatters the area. He can hear the shower going in the bathroom but it is hours later, surely she cannot still be in there.
The door of the bathroom is ajar. He pushes it open and walks over to the shower curtain. The water is still running but there is no steam; the room is cold. He can't see any movement, and fear quickly grips him. He pulls the shower curtain too hard. It comes down and he throws it on the floor.
She is there, huddled in the corner of the shower. The water is freezing cold and he can see she has been there for a long time. Her eyes are closed and her skin is blue. He quickly turns the water off and moves in to kneel on one knee in front of her.
He can see the star he excised into her left arm. It is angry and stands out red against the blue marble of her skin, and the darker blue bruising. It is still bleeding, but slowly due to the cold. He cannot see her thigh.
Very quietly he says her name. He rarely calls her by it, but he is so frightened by what he has done to her.
Her head turns in his direction and her eyes widen. She whimpers and pulls herself into an even smaller ball. He touches her and she starts to tremble, she is ice cold and her skin breaks out in goosebumps.
Swearing under his breath he gets up and fetches some towels and a robe. When he returns she has not moved. He tries his best to wrap one of the towels around her, making sure he doesn't touch her arm, and rubs her skin to get her blood circulating.
Suddenly, as if she has woken from a dream, she grips his arm and her eyes are pools of fear. But then she looks at her hand on his arm and hurriedly takes it away. She tries to talk but he shushes her but she shakes her head no. Her teeth are chattering and she can barely get the words out.
“You mustn't touch me, I'm dirty...”
He closes his eyes, counts to three, and then opens them and looks at her as she tries to talk again.
“What did I do wrong? Please, what did I do wrong?” she whispers. It so quiet he has to strain to hear and when he does hear the words he bows his head. He knew it was the guards fault, he has always known it, how could he have ever thought otherwise?
Whenever he feels the anger take him the side of him he finds difficult to control takes over, the cruel side. Sometimes it is as if there are several different people living inside of him, inside his mind. He feels at moments like this he must be insane.
That afternoon he had felt himself grow so cold in his anger and his cruel side took control and controlled him. He needed to teach her a lesson, that he is her life, he needed to dominate her, she is HIS. So as the anger built so did the jealousy, until he couldn’t stand it any longer and he had hurt her, again.
And now, now he felt he was the lowest piece of filth on the planet. How could he have done what he did, any of it? Why did he think that of her? He doesn't even know where the idea to do it came from. How could he expect her to forgive him and stay with him?
He shakes his head. He doesn't trust his own voice. He pulls her up to stand and then sees a bead of blood dribbling down her leg from the cut high up on her thigh. Her legs have no feeling and she can't stand on her own so he picks her up in his arms. She is so light, no weight at all, but he can feel her shivering and he holds her close.
You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his body, the strength in it, and you feel safe. You are so cold you cannot stop shivering. Your Winter Soldier is back; the cruel one gone for now. You just want to be warm.
Your arm is still bleeding and you can feel him tightening some type of cloth over it. You want to tell him not to worry, not to stop the blood, just let it drain all out of you; it will make the pain go away. Instead he places you in the bed and gets in besides you, pulls you gently towards him and tells you to sleep.
Perhaps this time you will be lucky. Perhaps this time when you sleep you will never wake up again.
Then your pain will truly be over.
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant