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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
- 52
- 53
- 54
Chapter Fifty-Three
The Constant & The Winter Soldier - The Attempt

Meetings happen all over the world, all the time - innocent ones, serious ones, and ones that can be life changing.
Two men are sat together, photos spread out on a table between them. There are only a few pictures, all that are known to exist. The photographs show what appears to be a soldier, but one with a startling difference. They are all of the fabled Winter Soldier, and it is his difference they are interested in. His arm. The technology contained within it could change their fortunes. They have sought its power source for years, and by securing the arm they could kill two birds with one stone.
The man in charge sanctions their plan. He will benefit the most.
He does not realise what he is taking on. He believes he has so much money and power that anything he wants will come to him. He has no idea how large Hydra is, how it has spread through many different countries, growing stronger.
He hasn't a chance.
*
There is shower soap and shampoo in your eyes but you catch noise and movement out of the corner of your eye.
The Winter Soldier is there.
You know from the menace in his face that he is enraged. You turn around and hit out to defend yourself and he pushes you against the tiles, then drags you out of the shower and up against the wall.
“Don't fuck with me, or I will seriously fuck you up,” he growls, his tone full of anger.
You struggle. Your body is slippery and he keeps losing his grip, and is getting frustrated. You try to scratch his face and this enrages him further. He pushes you back against the wall so forcibly that your head hits the tiles, hard.
“You are mine...” he spits. “They gave you to me, you are here for me and me only, do you understand?”
He has been so angry this wake-up, so hateful. But what has brought this on? You are so familiar with the jealous rages he can get into, and his paranoia, so you do everything you can to keep contact with others to a minimum.
You try to nod. The floor is slippery, and you have trouble standing up. His grip is hurting you.
“You belong to me, every part of you!”
You suddenly feel hatred for this man, you loathe this side of the Winter Soldier, and you spit that at him. He slaps you and turns you around. You feel him kick your feet apart.
“I warned you,” he did, but he was just looking for an excuse.
Your heart misses a beat as he uses one arm to keep you still and the other unbuckles his belt and his zip.
“No please, I'm sorry, whatever I've done I'm sorry, I understand. I'm yours no one else's I promise, please.”
You feel his hand then as it slides down your spine to the bottom and then separates your buttocks.
“No!” you try to shout, struggling to move - but you can't. You can feel his fingers searching you. He is going to sodomise you and you are not strong enough to stop him.
“Please no, not that, please, I'll do anything but not that please.”
He leans in, you can smell his breath.
“I want you to feel me deep inside you,” he hisses and his fingers find their way in. You can't breathe and he eases his other arm from your back and around to your front, his hand seeking out your breast and he squeezes it painfully.
“I want to tear you apart.”
“Why?” It's the only answer you want to know, but he misunderstands.
“Because I can.”
It hurts, and you don’t know which is worse but then the pain eases from behind as he takes his fingers out, you then feel his erection pressed against you and then he is forcing himself inside you and you feel like you are being split open. You cry out and the noise echoes around the tiled room. You can't talk; no words will come as he starts to move, setting a rhythm and you are sure your skin is splitting it is hurting so much. Something runs down your leg and mingles with the water on the floor. You know it is blood.
His breathing is heavy and he groans as he pushes himself further in.
“Please stop,” you beg. You can hardly speak or breathe.
His hand on your breast moves down and between your legs and he pushes his fingers into you. You hear him grunt.
You close your eyes and his body rocks yours and now you can feel his fingers exploring you setting your nerves on edge, but also he knows how to excite you and you feel the build up start inside the pit of your stomach. You don’t want either. This is wrong, but you can't help it. Your body and mind have learnt to react to the pain he inflicts.
His fingers go deep and your breathing hitches, there is still pain but it is mixed with the increasing rise of heat taking over your body. You can't help it as it rises up through you and you come, you try not to make a sound; you don’t want him to know but he does and you feel his own body heat and then he climaxes and shudders. He says something as he comes and you strain to hear.
“I need you.” It is said so quietly. He repeats it once more and you recognise the harsh desperate tone of the Winter Soldier. “I need you.” He doesn't seem to know he has said it out loud, a sob escapes him.
All the hate you have built up for this animal, for this side of the man you love falls away in a second when you hear the anguish in that voice.
How?
How can your emotions for him swing so far back and forth? One minute hating him, the next knowing you cannot live without him? How can you accept the way he treats you? What he does to you mentally and physically. You cannot condone it yet you accept it? What does it make you?
He holds you so tight to him, as if he is trying to climb inside your skin so you can become one person.
He shudders again and again, and then you know he is spent and he moves his fingers away from you and steps back, pulling his now softening cock out. You feel pain again and blood and semen start to trickle down your legs.
You listen to him as he steps away, approaches the sink and switches the water on, washing his fingers and using a towel to make sure he is clean elsewhere. He zips and buckles himself up.
You can't face him; you stay facing the wall with your forehead resting against the tiles. Your hands are raised as if in prayer but are clutching each other. You are praying, please let him have finished with me, please.
There is a loud banging on the door of the bedroom and you hear one of the guards shouting for him. He is due to for training. That is why they have woken him this time; new weapons training.
He grabs your arm and looks you up and down as if in disgust. His eyes are cold and distant. He then pushes you back into the shower.
”Clean yourself up, you're no better than a rutting animal,” then he is gone leaving you stunned and dirty and that breaks you.
You have been punished, and you don't even know your crime.
*
Later when he gets back you are dressed and working on files at your desk. You ignore him. The anguish you felt at being attacked has been replaced by a deep-seated anger. You had done nothing wrong. He has left you too long to stew in that anger.
You are so much more volatile these days.
On some level, he knows he was wrong to do what he did but as yet he has not been awake long enough to begin to recognise this. The guilt has not begun, yet.
“I need these.” He throws a list down in front of you and continues to stand at your side. You don’t even look up; you just move his pages to one side and carry on, head down, working.
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“I'll look at it in a minute.” You are trying to keep your tone neutral; the last thing you need is him getting angry. But you still don’t look up.
There is a moment's silence and then he snatches the report you are working on away from you and grabs your arm.
There is only so much the human mind can take before it reacts without thinking. You are tired, and you hurt so much. Why when he first wakes do you have to live in fear? Fear of what he will do to you every single time. And now you do not even have your friends to support you through things. You stand up as he pulls at you and your eyes flash.
“Go on, then! What do you want to do this time? Sodomise me again? Or would you rather break my arm? Or punch me until I bleed? Take your pick!” The chair falls over behind you as you try to break his grip on your arm.
He blinks, and a smirk starts but before it can complete you punch his chest with your free hand. “Yes funny isn't it? I'm still laughing from earlier. I did nothing wrong, and yet...yet you punish me as if I had!” Your words wipe the smile of his face completely.
“You're mine,” he growls. His voice is dangerously low.
“And you think I don’t know that?!” you ask looking into his eyes searching for something, some recognition of the man you love.
He lets go of you and pushes you away, then turns his back on you.
You throw up your hands. “Oh yes, let's do the brooding soldier bit shall we? Let's give you an excuse to get angry and sort me out!” You are so angry now that you don’t care what he does.
He turns again. “You're a whore. You flirt with all the guards. I've seen you...I...”
You don’t let him finish. “How dare you! How dare you say such a thing!” You step forward, eyes blazing, hands clenched at your side. “Flirt, flirt? Christ almighty, you have got to be joking. I don’t talk to anyone, I don’t look at anyone, I don’t make any friends all because of your jealousy and paranoia... you hurt me because you want to...not because I deserve it, not because I need punishing!”
You are getting breathless. Your nails are digging into the palm of your hands but you don’t notice the pain. Finally, you are angry. Years of neglect are mounting up in you. Decades of loneliness. “You call me a whore and yet you are the only man I have ever slept with. You taught me everything I know about pleasing a man because I only do whatever pleases you!”
As soon as it started, your anger is fading out. The hopelessness of the situation is overtaking you. You look at those blue eyes and you know you will never truly hate him, you will always take what he gives and then come back for more.
He once told you that you couldn't help yourself...and, pathetically, he is right.
“I'm sick of it,” you say quietly. Then you turn and pick up your chair and sit down at the table. You pull the files you were working on towards you but you can't see the words for the unshed tears in your eyes.
During your entire tirade he has just stood, impassively looking at you, watching you. He is trained to read a person by what they say, by what they do, by what their body does. He saw your clenched fists, he saw the unshed tears...and then he saw the fury drain out of you until your shoulders slumped. He saw your recognition, and your hopelessness of it ever being any different.
He looks calm. But inside he feels sick. He is beginning to feel.
He is watching you work. You are trying to concentrate on what you are doing, but you can't. You are trying not to let your tears out but you cannot stop them and in the end you put your arms on the desk, put your head on them, and cry. Deep sobs wrack your body and you feel such a despair wash over you.
He looks at her. Why does he care? She is supposed to mean nothing to him. They tell him not to care but this woman awakens something in him. His head begins to hurt and he knows instinctively she is the one who comforts him; helps him; cares for him when he is in pain.
What she has said is true. He realises it, deep down.
Where does the insane jealousy come from when she is supposed to mean nothing to him?
He can't bear to see her now so desperate, so sad, her heart broken. He hates having caused it. He hurt her physically earlier, but did not know until now that mentally he has hurt her even more.
He moves so quietly that you don’t hear him. You feel his arms around you and he kneels to hold you tight. He says nothing, but you feel him kiss the top of your head and it makes you cry more. Then he moves his hand to lift your chin up and he kisses your lips and then your eyes.
“Don't,” you say, not because you don’t want him to but because your face is wet and your nose is running. You blindly reach for a tissue and try to wipe your tears, but he takes it away from you and does it for you.
He doesn’t know what to say. How can this woman mean so much to him that he is so frightened of losing her? He doesn’t know their back story: when he awakes, he just knows on some level that she is there for him. She stops the bubble of panic that rises in his chest when he opens his eyes, not knowing where he is, who he is meant to be. He has this longing for her and has to keep it hidden. Over the last few days he has had this paranoia building inside him, an anger but he doesn’t know why.
You have broken through to him this time. He didn't know he was the only man you'd ever slept with. He didn't know you are truly just here for him, but he is learning now and just as he begins to realise how your lives are so entangled with each other they will wipe him and you will have to start again next time. For now you are in his arms, and for now he knows when he wants you he doesn’t have to think up an excuse.
He knows no matter what he does you will always be there for him.
And you? You will do anything for him, anything to protect him.
*
It is a fairly quiet morning and you are trying to get your head around your timetable when you hear a noise. A gun shot followed by another two. Here within the complex. Here where there should be no such noise.
You jump up, the door is open and you run out into the corridor. The noise was some way off, down towards the lift and you head down that way. You can now hear yelling and you increase your pace to a trot. Turning into the corridor you see Zolnerowich. He is bleeding from a wound to his forehead. There is another man bent down on his knees, blood streaming from a wound in his belly. You do not recognise the man but he is wearing all black, very much like the various STRIKE teams you see. Strapped to his back is a machete, lying four feet away is a rifle.
There are two guards with Zolnerowich, and a further two lying dead. He has sent a final two after the other gunmen.
You move forward to help but you see panic in Zolnerowich's face. Panic and anger. He sees you.
“They're after him.” He doesn't need to tell you who. “Two more of them. They are going to take him out!” And then you are turning and running. You hear Zolnerowich turn to one of the remaining guards.
“Get Caldwell now!” He indicates the injured man, forcing him to get up and pushing him into the guard. “Take him and put him somewhere safe. Keep him alive!”
*
You know where he is, where he was headed, if you don’t get to him first they will and he will die.
Your heart and lungs are bursting as you run across the training area. He has to be here somewhere! Then you see him descending the outside steps so he can go down into one of the bunkers but you also see them. Two men dressed in STRIKE uniforms similar to the other one.
Both of them are heading to the other side of the area, guns ready – rifles, with scopes - and you know they will go for the head. That is what they did to the dead guards inside the complex.
“Get down!” you shout. He doesn't hear you, and neither do they.
He is unarmed, his gun leant up against the bunker side.
“Get down, for Gods' sake get down!” you scream and he sees you. You wave your arms towards the danger. He turns just as you scream again. He looks at you, then begins to walk back up two of the stairs.
“James, get down!” you are still screaming. He hears but you don’t know if in time or not as repeated shots ring out. Three bullets catch him in the chest and knock him off his feet and onto the ground. If he had not been up on the two steps, the shots would have taken him in the head.
“No!” you scream as you run up. You are nearer than they are. The Winter Soldier is laying on the ground at the bottom of the steps but you can't see his face. One leg is curled under him. You can see the indentations of the bullets in his jacket but you do not know how badly he is hurt.
They are getting closer. They need to ensure they have finished the job, and they will be taking head shots. The gravel rucks up next to your foot and you realise they are shooting at you now. But they are still a danger to him.
You look around and grab the Winter Soldier's rifle. You have never used a gun before. How difficult can it be? Surely you aim and just shoot?
And this is what you do.
The recoil knocks you back and puts your aim off, but by luck you catch one of them in the knee. You steady yourself and bring the rifle up but it will not fire again. You try again but you don’t know what the correct thing to do is, and your frustration makes your hands sweat and your brain won't think.
The man approaching you makes the mistake of thinking he has all the time in the world now. The Winter Soldier is down and the woman with him has no idea of what to do with the weapon in her hand. He lifts his gun up, grinning.
“No, no, no, no, no...” you are chanting the word under your breath, desperation in your tone.
You look up, straight into the man's eyes. He is twelve feet away. He laughs and brings his rifle around and into play but he has under estimated you. You will do anything to stop him getting to the Winter Soldier - anything - and this is what makes you dangerous.
He is still too far away. You need him slightly closer and so you reverse the rifle, holding it barrel first and you run forward, fast. He isn't expecting that. You are clutching the useless gun by the barrel and you club him as hard as you can. All your weight is behind that swing, all your weight and your fear. He did not realise the danger of love.
You meant to catch his arm, but instead you catch the side of his head and there is a terrible crunching noise which the nurse in you winces at. Then he is down on his knees and your rage takes over. He cannot get away from you, he cannot reach you, and you club him until you realise he is no longer fighting and you no longer have any breath.
Blood soaks into the earth around him, and his head is horribly misshapen on one side. The gun in your hand is split, broken and bloody, bits of hair are stuck to the stock and you feel sick when you realise what you have done. The body lies unmoving on the ground but you can now see this man also had a machete strapped to his back.
Before you can think any further you catch a glimpse of movement about four feet away and you see that the man you shot in the knee is trying to get up. One leg a red mess of blood, gore and material around the knee.
But, he is still a danger. You will not let anyone hurt your soldier.
You stagger up and over to him, picking up his gun. Your hand is shaking as you hold it to his head but you cannot pull the trigger. You cannot shoot a defenceless, injured man and he can see that. You are sobbing and cannot catch your breath. He looks up at you, he is going to ask you for the gun, he can see shock in your eyes and he can play on that...but then the look in his eyes changes. They widen.
A hand reaches out from behind you and covers yours on the gun and forces the trigger to depress. The explosion is loud and part of the man's head disappears. You scream. You can't help it, your legs give way and both you and the person holding your hand go down in a heap. It is the Winter Soldier. The armoured jacket has taken the full force of the three bullets to the chest. He is having difficulty breathing but only because he is winded, and as you will find out later there is severe bruising and three broken ribs.
He holds you tight though he doesn't know why. He doesn't understand why you are so upset, but he does know that you saved his life.
Guards come running up and the Winter Soldier throws the gun away from you both and pulls you both to your feet. He is speaking to them, but your ears are still ringing from the gunshot. You would think by now you would be used to violence but it can still catch you unaware. You were a nurse, trained to save people, but you just took two lives.
You think he is going to dismiss you but he doesn't. He holds your arm so you cannot walk away whilst he directs the guards. He sends two of them to dispose of the bodies. He then leaves them to sort the mess out. He takes you back to the main building, nothing is said between you and you are glad, you don’t think your voice will work.
Caldwell comes running up, breathless. You can see he wants to know what has happened and his voice is wavering as he asks. He is not used to exercise; he is getting too desk bound. The Winter Soldier does not say anything and you realise it is because the question has been put to you. The Winter Soldier holds your arm but doesn't say a word: he is watching you, but truth be known he doesn't know what to say.
You give a halting account of how you heard the first shot and Zolnerowich warned you that the men had got into the building looking for the Winter Soldier and how you ran to warn him before they got to him.
Caldwell nods and says you are to go with him. He goes to take your arm but the Winter Soldier will not allow him to. Looking at the warning in the Winter Soldier's eyes, Caldwell coughs and says that instead it is better if you talk later. You are to go and clean yourself up first. That is when you realise you are splattered with blood and brain matter, grass and mud.
You gulp trying not to think. You don’t want to be sick.
You hear Caldwell instruct the Winter Soldier to see him as soon as he has taken you back, and then he is walking you to your room. Once there and inside the door he lets go of your arm and you turn to him but he just shakes his head and then he is gone.
You head for the shower and strip off your clothes. You will not get them cleaned. You never want to wear them again. You have the shower too hot and it scalds your skin, but you don’t care and whilst washing you bawl your eyes out. Nobody can hear you and you cry as if you are a child. You shampoo your hair twice and then wash all over again until you have scrubbed your skin clean, all the time trying not to think of what would have happened if the men had been successful. Afterwards you rub yourself dry and change into clean clothes and then sit. You are sure he will come back but what will he say or do.
If they had killed him then he would finally have been free, but you can't bear that thought and keep away from it. It haunts you like an open wound. Yesterday he hurt you badly and at that moment you hated him. But then not that much later you loved him, couldn't bear to be away from him. And today? Today you were in such fear of him dying you would have done anything to stop them from hurting him - and you did. You murdered two men. The thoughts go around and around in your mind.
Eventually you hear him approaching and you stand up. He comes in, still wearing the same clothes. He kicks his boots off into the corner. Nothing has been done. You had assumed they would have at least checked him out. He looks tired. He was spared the gore as your body had shielded him from it but you can see the three holes in the leather jacket and there is mud on his clothes. Strangely enough, there is dried blood on his hands.
You don’t say anything, just reach up and start to undo the jacket. He hesitates and you think he is going to brush your hand away but he then lowers his hand and you undo the jacket peeling it back; there are three small clinks as the shells fall to the floor and you bend to pick them up; such innocent looking lumps of metal squashed to unrecognisable shapes and yet they could have ended his life. You throw them onto the side table.
He helps you take off the jacket. It is the one that doesn't have a left sleeve and you don’t want to catch it on any of the metal plates. As you pull it off, he winces.
The black tee shirt underneath is actually dented where the bullets hit and taking the bottom he helps pull it up over his head and you gulp. His chest is a mass of bruising; the power of the shots had knocked him off his feet and to the ground, after all. He winces again and as a nurse you know the signs. He must have broken ribs, but you know there is no way he will let you take him to one of the doctors.
Instead you touch his chest and he feels your cool fingers at the centre of the pain. He closes his eyes as your hand rests on his skin, he is tired, so tired, his head is hurting.
“I'm sorry,” she whispers and his hand takes hers and holds it against his chest. She sees he has opened his eyes and is watching her closely.
“Why?”
“Because I saved your life again. You could have been free from...all of this...” she says quietly, as if to herself.
She confuses him, everything about her confuses him but all he wants to feel is her hands on him, cooling his hot skin. He realised earlier that the only person he wants near him is her and that is why he came back.
“Is that not a good thing?” he asks.
She tries to smile and nod, but she cannot get the words out.
Later though he will remember the words, 'I saved your life again'. What did she mean by 'again'?
You leave him for a second and go to the sink and bring back a glass of water and pain killers, which he takes. “I think you might feel better after a shower.” He shakes his head.
“Later,” he says.
Then he stretches to try and get the kinks out of his neck and you think you see a glimmer of James, your James...but you couldn’t have. He unzips his trousers and you help him take them off. Then, because you know him so well you know he needs you, needs your body, maybe just to prove to himself he is still alive...you follow him to his bed.
You are not sure what to expect as he is in pain and you are used to him being rough but he takes you by surprise and lets you lead. You look down at him, gently pushing the hair away from his face and then kissing him, he kisses you back but gently and slowly. You move to kiss his chest and the bruised area that must hurt so much. Your hair gently sweeps over his skin and he breathes in the freshly washed smell of you. He responds as any man would and both of you, taking care, make love gentle and touching. You are so careful not to hurt him, he is careful as if he thinks he may scare you. As he enters you he turns you over onto your back, you know this is the way he likes to be, dominant, but he is careful to hold his weight although it must be causing him some pain to do so and when he climaxes he is almost silent and ensures that you do too.
Afterwards he moves to the side and you take it as a sign that he has finished with you. As you go to leave his bed he reaches out and grabs your wrist. You turn to look at him. He doesn't need to tell you he needs you, you see it in his eyes but he does.
“Stay” he says, and draws you back into his arms.
You listen to his breathing, soon you think he is sleeping and you relax against him and start to drift off. You are aware that you are going to have to think about what you have done today, you have taken lives but at the moment you don’t want to, you just want to forget the world outside the door.
Just as you start to drift you hear him speak, his breathing does not change, you thought he was asleep.
“Who is James?” he asks you.
He feels you tense. Your mind thinks it has misheard.
“Who?” you ask.
He doesn't say anything for a moment. “You called me James,” he says. You try to move away but his arm tightens so you can't.
Your mind is sluggish, it needs sleep and you fumble for a reply. You can't tell him, when did you call him that? Then you remember, when you were shouting out the warning. You curse silently, what do you say? Your mind knows you have to say something. “He was someone I knew, but he died.”
“Then why did you call me James?” he asks. There is no anger in his voice but he wants an answer.
“Because I was frightened and I must have done it without thinking. I'm sorry, you sometimes remind me of him.”
“Is that why you're with me? Is that why they gave you to me?”
“No. Its not as simple as that.”
“How did he die?” What do you say? What do you do? They will wipe him again if they hear him mentioning that name.
“Please don’t ask me any more.” he hears the pain in your voice. You try to leave again but he still won't let you.
“Did I kill him?” he asks, and your whole stomach turns with the quietness in his voice.
“No. No you didn't.”
He draws you in tighter so he is holding you in his arms and you rest your head on his shoulder.
He is quiet and does not ask you any more.
*
Jackson Caldwell sits, thinking about the answers he had gotten to his questions. The first man of the three man team is now dead...but he died a painful death. They used his wounds against him to get their answers.
Why was someone trying to kill the Winter Soldier? He had asked the man. It took a while to get the answer and the answer was surprising, perplexing.
The three man team had two parts to their mission. One was to kill the soldier and the second was to take his arm. The metal arm. That is why they carried machetes. The thought of what they would have done to remove the arm is sickening, but Caldwell takes it in his stride. However he could not tell how the Winter Soldier felt, standing there listening to the man describe how they were to remove it once the soldier was dead. His eyes showed nothing.
Someone wants the technology Hydra possess. They also want the Tesseract power source. But who are they? The mercenary said he did not know, they had been hired, the money wired into a bank, they never met a contact. The man had died before anything else could be learnt, his guts pulled out through the gun shot wound and crushed as he watched in agony. It was the only way they could get him to talk.
Jackson feels that he has an idea of who they could be.
His father has already spoken of another organisation, someone else who wants to rule the world, someone who has no idea of the battle they are taking on, someone who does not know the true power of Hydra, but they will. They have come into his territory and declared war. Not only will he find them, but he will take the next battle to them.
He picks up the telephone and arranges for a flight back to the States. He needs to find out more.
And he will.
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant