Adult-FanFiction.org : Marvel 'Verse

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
- 67
- 68
- 69
Chapter Sixty-Eight
The Winter Soldier And The Awakening

It is time for you to return to Cryo. The Winter Soldier is already sleeping and they are finalising your pod and connections. You are stood in your underwear, dressing gown, and a thick coat as the room is so cold. Two technicians talk quietly next to you. You are in front of your Soldier as he stands asleep, waiting for the next time they release him. Your eyes roam over him. Sometimes when he sleeps his eyes are half-shut, but this time they are fully closed. You prefer that. He looks more peaceful that way.
You hear the door open and turn, expecting to see another technician - but it is not. As the man walks closer you have a moments hesitation and then you recognise him. He is one of the STRIKE team, a man called Brock Rumlow. You met him some years ago with Caldwell and you have seen him at the base a few times in Pierce's company.
He nods to the technicians and then comes to stand next to you, also looking up at the Winter Soldier. He doesn't speak, which you find unusual, he just stands there looking up at the platform. The technicians will be closing the glass doors shortly. They leave them open until you are safely stored away because somehow they know you need to see him until the last possible moment.
You look at Rumlow's face. He looks as if he has grown up rough; he must now be in his mid-thirties and you know he is a rising star in Hydra. Not someone to watch in the power struggle that happens at the top of most large organisations, but more of a force to be reckoned with on the operations side. You can see him having control of his own STRIKE team one day and you guarantee that, unfortunately, he will be good at what he does.
You wonder why he has come. He turns and looks at you, crossing his arms, then turns back to the Winter Soldier. “Why do I always feel I know him?” he asks quietly, and you know the question is directed at you.
He looks back to you and you shake your head. “I don't know.” It is not what you expected him to say and you do not really know what to reply with.
“I've...seen him before. I'm so sure I have. Every time I look at him, I get this...” And he looks back at the Soldier, forgetting to finish his sentence as if he has been caught off guard in a memory.
One of the technicians calls you over and you leave Rumlow to his thoughts.
A few moments later you realise he is still there, but it is time for you to start to prepare to sleep. You are given the last of the drink to swallow and then they open your pod. Rumlow has come over and is watching as you stand there bare-footed in your underwear and gown, your coat put to one side and you shiver.
“Sometime I think I nearly have it. I know that I know him.” He lets air out as if he is frustrated.
“Have you been on mission with him in the past?” you suggest, and he shakes his head. You struggle to take off your dressing gown, and he helps you without thinking. “He was there that time when you were with Jackson. You know. The party...?” you say, but he is already shaking his head.
“Even then I thought he was familiar.”
You shrug. “Well unless you were around in the 1940's I don't think you could have known him,” you say, and he frowns.
Brock Rumlow does not know the story of the Winter Soldier. Very few people know the true story. But right from the very first time he saw Hydra's Soldier, there was a familiarity there and it drives him to distraction that he doesn't know why.
“Why do you say the forties? Is that when he volunteered?” he asks, stopping you in your tracks.
“When he...” You look at him. “Did you say when he volunteered?” you ask and he can see by the look on your face it wouldn't take a lot to make you very angry.
“A wounded Russian soldier who volunteered is what we always heard, but...” It is his turn to shrug, inviting you to fill in the incomplete sentence.
The technicians come up to set some controls and you move slightly so they can get to your pod. Rumlow moves with you.
“But...?” you enquire.
He is quiet for a moment.“I think he's an American.”
You look at the ground as though counting for patience and then you look up at Rumlow.
“He didn't volunteer. He was an American POW during the Second World War. He was captured and used as a lab rat by Zola. He was rescued, but then about a year later, after an accident on a mission, he was captured again and this time Hydra didn't let him go. He never volunteered. He would hate it if he knew what he had become. What they have done to him!”
Your eyes are blazing now, but after putting him right you turn and walk away from him, back to your pod. You feel so very angry. Volunteered – is that what they tell people?
You don't realise that Rumlow is following you.
“You know his full history?” he asks, and you ignore him as the technicians try and move around the two of you.
You continue to ignore him; instead, you tell the technicians you are ready.
Rumlow watches you for a few minutes, and then turns and starts to walk away. You feel so frustrated, like you want to hit something. You know you shouldn't say anything more. You turn around and watch as Rumlow goes to leave.
Just get in the pod, Freya, you tell yourself.
As he nears the door you call to him. You can't help it. You just want someone to know who James really is, you want to give him his name back, even if it is just one person who knows other than you. “Mr Rumlow...?” He turns. “Try Brooklyn...try looking up someone called Steve Rogers,” you say and then you turn away and the technicians help you into the pod. By the time they close the lid, Rumlow has left with one more piece of the puzzle.
He knows the Winter Soldier. He just doesn't know where from.
*
It is always dark here. Always. Never any light. Cold too, so cold that sometimes he feels as though he is made of ice. For a long time he has faced this alone until he found someone in the dark. Another person. No, not a person. He cannot call either himself or the other one a person: they have no body, no words, nothing but a sense of each other there in the dark. They know that they exist, but they do not know who they are. They don't know where they are. The other presence is such a welcome; just to know neither of them are alone here any more. Wherever here is.
But now something is wrong. A noise disturbs the quiet and he feels a pang of fear. Another noise, and he feels the other one's panic as well. A disturbance, a tremor. Then vibration, that is the only way he can describe it. They huddle into each other more, two souls in fear.
Then peace.
But not for long and the noises start again. Terrible noises followed by a sense of being invaded, by being assailed. But not him. He is not touched.
Then a tearing, both physically and mentally and he feels the other one's terror as he tries to cry out. Tries to put into words: No! Don't!
And then quiet again, but this time the silence is so absolute that he knows he is alone totally. The other one has been taken. Is no longer there. He begins to weep, and as he weeps his soul feels as if it is breaking into a thousand pieces, each piece crying out for what has been taken away from him. The other one was more than just a comfort in the dark, the other one was part of him, he doesn't know how he knows that. He curls up into himself, feels as if he has been violated, torn, rejected. He is lost and alone again but this time it is worse because now he knows something has been taken away from him, something valuable, something he doesn't want to live without.
*
You wake to noise. The light hurts your eyes, and there are voices all around you, calling your name.
“Freya! Freya, wake up.” Someone is pulling you up into the sitting position and you know you are going to be sick. They know you well and a bowl is put in front of you. You don't bring up a lot. You hate the nauseous feeling; you would rather have pain. You feel someone push a needle into your arm and know that the drug should begin to work quite quickly. Someone offers you water and you take a sip; all the while you are aware of panic in the room.
“What is it? What's wrong? Is the Soldier all right?” you ask – the Cryo Team always refer to him as the Soldier. The technician is talking to you and you are trying to take in what he is saying but your ears are humming.
“You've only be down for three days. It's the Soldier. There's something wrong with him.”
You blink, trying to clear your sight, and you feel someone wrap your gown around you. You slip to your feet as they tie it closed, finally a coat.
Your pod is close to the Soldier's own container and you can see that they have the glass panels open. All of the main lights are on and there are several people up on the platform. The Soldier is still in cryo but there is something clearly wrong: he's moving.
“What is it? What happened?” you ask whilst the technician helps you to stand.
“That's what we're hoping you might know. It started a few hours ago. Has this happened to him before? It's as if he is...fitting, or something.” You both walk closer, and what you see alarms you.
The Winter Soldier is standing, some of the restraints are in place but some have been released. He is twisting and turning. If he had been awake, you would have thought he was looking for something. Every so often his body shudders and his arms flail out. At first glance it looks as if he is trying to escape his confines but his eyes are closed. His face is a grimace. As he moves he is in danger of pulling out leads.
“We are trying to stop the fits, or whatever they are. He's already broken the bone in his right arm; we're trying to warm him but you know how long it takes.” As he says this the most awful sound comes from the Winter Soldier. It is like a wail, like something has torn his very soul out of his body. You have never heard anything like it before.
You have to stop and grab the bowl – bloody cryo you think, as you are sick again.
“Sit down.” The tech offers you a seat, which you gratefully take. You know your own limitations when you first come out. It will take at least half an hour for you to adjust, and nothing will speed it up. Your brain may as well be mush as you try and think, and your head feels as though it is splitting.
“Goddamn it!” you curse as you heave again.
“Hold him steady!” you hear a voice and look back to the platform as the Soldier's body shudders again. He begins to thrash, and then his left arm attempts to free itself and two of the pipes tear from their housing.
“Shit...seal it, seal the goddamn pipe before it burns his skin!”
“Let me get up there,” you say but the tech is hesitant. “I might be able to talk to him, he might recognise my voice. There must be some sensory feelings there, because he is moving.” The tech in charge gives the go ahead and they help you up on to the platform.
You stand next to him, looking up into his face. His eyes are closed but you think there are tears running down his cheeks even though to the others they just look like water from the thaw. His face is pale, the skin grey, and then his face scrunches up and his mouth opens and that terrible noise again. You put a hand on his arm and the other on his chest to steady yourself as well as hoping he can feel you.
You speak quietly, so quietly that only you and he can hear you.
“James. James, it's all right. You're safe, you're not alone.” And you continue to talk quietly to him. His body shudders under your touch, but you don't think he can hear you.
It is another thirty minutes before they have fully warmed the Winter Soldier and are able to release all of the clamps holding him. And then they begin to awaken him. They decide to release him from the jacket whilst he is still stood up, and you help. He is unable at first to carry his own weight and as he falls forward a group of techs catch him, gently lowering him to a trolley. All the while you tell him he is all right. You can see utter confusion in his eyes. The techs are running hand-held scanners over him.
“No vital organs damaged...” They report on bones that have cracked or fractured. There are striations on his skin where parts of it have cracked, small rivulets of blood that you start to mop up. But other than the break in his right arm, he has escaped his predicament lightly.
“What happened?” he asks you, his voice groggy as if from a long sleep.
“We don't quite know. Don't try to talk, just breathe,” you say. His eyes are not as cloudy now. He takes hold of your hand and will not let you go. He is not usually so uneasy when he wakes but the panic in his eyes seems to be subsiding now. When they get him to the medical bay though he still will not let you out of his sight.
Someone fetches a seat for you, which you are grateful for. You stay by his side moving when they need to get to him. You are feeling pretty groggy yourself as the effects of cryo are still in your body.
“Can you remember anything from when you were in cryo?” you ask and he shakes his head. His memory is a blank.
“I don't even know why I'm here. Have they woken me for a mission?” he asks and you shake your head.
“No...” You wonder how to explain it. “You were asleep, but then something seemed to disturb you.”
When she says that an awful cold feeling makes him shudder, it is as if someone has just walked over his grave. It leaves him feeling sick but he can't catch why or what it is, it is so fleeting. Something about the dark? But no, too late it has gone.
Pierce has sent through orders that the Soldier is to be kept out for two days so tests can be run. His injuries are treated and finally he is allowed back to his quarters. You both fall into bed and sleep but hours later you are woken by movement as he gets up to use the bathroom and you realise he has not slept at all.
“You should have woken me,” you tell him and he tries to smile, shaking his head.
You prepare something small for both of you to eat. Two techs visit to do some tests and then you are both left alone again. You soon realise however that the Winter Soldier is trying to put off going to bed again and you ask him why.
“I don't know...” he says softly, but you know somehow that he does. You encourage him to lie in bed and you draw up a chair next to him. You have with you a book, one of your favourites that Maggie bought for you: Jane Eyre. Whilst he lays there you read to him. It is not something you have done before but he finds it is helping to relax him. The fear he has bubbling up in his chest is fading.
He closes his eyes to listen but if you stop reading then he opens them again. At one point you stop and touch his arm.
“What is it?” you ask. He looks at the ceiling, how does he explain? “It's as if I'm afraid to sleep, something to do with the dark...”
“As if something is waiting for you? A nightmare perhaps?”
“No...” He looks at you. “It's as if there isn't something waiting for me, something that comforts me in the dark. I don't understand it...it's as if I've lost something.” He shakes his head and tries to smile again: “Stupid. I just cant grasp it.”
He looks at you and realises you need to sleep. You put the book down and get into bed beside him being careful of his right arm which is encased in bandages. You snuggle up close and very soon he gives in and sleeps. His sleep is peaceful and the next morning the tests begin but they cannot find anything wrong.
Before they put him back into cryo they wipe him again as a failsafe, no memories left. Then they freeze him again.
He is back in the dark, but this time he is alone. His soul curls around itself. He is lost again. There is no-one there with him. He is totally and utterly alone. There is no longer any comfort waiting for him in the dark.
*
He is being pulled away, being taken away from the one who comes and spends time with him. The one who made him realise he is not always alone after he had been for so very long.
There is a roaring sound in his head which starts to fade away to sounds he can recognise instead. He opens his eyes. He doesn't know where he is. For just a spilt second he feels a profound loss and sadness as if he has been torn away from someone and he knows that someone is now left alone. It is as if something has been torn from his very being.
Then light breaks through and he closes his eyes quickly again against the sudden glare. The feeling of loss is slowly ebbing away as he begins to know who he is. The more he remembers the more he loses the feeling of emptiness.
He breathes deeply and opens his eyes again. There is an open window to his right with curtains gently billowing and the sound of traffic outside. There is a radio playing. Not music but a game. A baseball game.
“So the Dodgers tie the score...” A commentator talking. He listens. “Its just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field...”
Above him a ceiling fan slowly rotates. A car horn blares outside and the noise is carried into his room on the breeze. He sees he is wearing a white tee-shirt with an SSR logo, light khaki pants, and boots. But he cannot remember how he got there, or what happened.
Slowly Steve Rogers sits up. There is another open window to his left. The game is still playing on the radio. He stops, turns to look at it, and listens to it again and as he does the door opens and a young woman comes in.
“Morning...” She smiles at him, closes the door and looks at her watch “Or should I say afternoon.” She walks forward and stops.
“Where am I?” he asks studying her, she is dressed in the uniform of an army nurse, pretty, long dark curly hair.
“You're in a recovery room in New York City,” she says.
He turns to the radio again and the announcer is saying that everyone at the game is on their feet and he can hear the crowd roaring.
He looks back her and she sees the look in his eyes harden. “Where am I really?”
She shrugs slightly to show her confusion. “I'm afraid I don't understand,” she says.
“The game its from May, 1941. I know because I was there.”
The smile drops from her face as he stands up. “So I'm going to ask you again...” he says, now walking towards her. “Where am I?”
In her hand is a silent alarm and she presses it but holds her ground. “Captain Rogers...”
“Who are you!?” he demands and as he does the door opens behind her and two soldiers enter armed, dangerous. Steve Rogers is immediately on the defensive. He only knows one thing for certain, he has to run.
And he does.
*
And Brock Rumlow finally knows. He knows who the Winter Soldier is. He stands next to the memorial stone in SHIELD headquarters. The memorial that states all the agents who have lost their lives in the service of their country. He stares at the one name:
James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes.
How many times has he seen that memorial? Every time he goes to and from the building, but not only that. How many times when he was growing up would there be Captain America documentaries on television, things learnt in school about the Second World War and the same names cropping up time and time again with photographs of the people concerned. Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and their Howling Commandoes. No wonder he thought he was familiar. He had literally grown up with him.
Captain America and his pal, his buddy, his Bucky – James Barnes.
To a young Brock Rumlow they had always been heroes, people who had a moral compass, people he could emulate but somewhere along the way he had lost their innocence, lost their compassion, lost their moral compass. Being passed from foster home to foster home, being abused and never having someone come and rescue him. He had learnt the hard way that there is only one person you can rely on and that is yourself and so he began to forget about heroes: to him now they only belonged in comic books.
And now one of his greatest heroes from childhood had been reincarnated into someone whom he had a secret devotion for, someone he wanted to be; the Winter Soldier.
He grins now to himself. Talk about destiny telling him he was on the right path.
That had been the first shock of the day to Brock.
The second was the news that the plane that went down carrying Captain America had been found – and not only that they can revive Captain America. They can bring back Steve Rogers.
It made Brock Rumlow's head swim that finally he wasn't alone any more. Hydra already had Barnes and now? Now they could work on taking Rogers and converting him. It would be easy.
All he had to do was tell Rogers – we have him; we have your pal, your buddy, your Bucky. Join us.
- 67
- 68
- 69
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant