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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
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Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven
James Barnes – Memories

James can hear the sounds out in the corridor; people talking, walking by, dropping things, even laughter.
What in Gods' name was there to laugh about in a hellhole like this?
He is trying to leave this place. He cannot do so physically, but his mind is thinking, always thinking of home and of Steve, trying to be back there, trying to be back home. Back with him.
The last night he was home, before he left for England and the 107th, he had taken Steve to meet up with two girls at Howard Stark's World Fair.
He had once again just pulled Steve out of a fight and had to tidy him up.
Steve had asked him where they were going and Bucky had told him.
“The future...we're going to see the future.”
He had wanted Steve to have at least one night with a woman before he left him alone, but even fairly early on he was sure it wasn't going to work out that way. The girl wasn't interested. He had got it wrong. Again.
Later, he kicked himself. Deep down he had wanted them to spend the night together, have Steve to himself but as there was a chance he wouldn't come back he wanted to open up Steve's horizons, give Steve other options. Bad plan.
Steve had ended up heading off to yet one more Army joining booth, and Bucky had ended up going dancing with the girls. He had said goodbye to Steve, smiling and horsing around because he could see Steve's mind was already on what he was going to say to get them to take him. He didn't want to leave him, he should have stayed, should have kept him close until the time where there were no minutes left and he had to leave.
During the evening, Bucky had grown quieter and less exuberant. All he could think about was Steve. Was that the last time he was going to see him? In the end the girls decided to find someone else to party with; after all there were a lot of takers. They had wished him luck, though.
He couldn't get drunk. No good turning up the next morning with a hangover and being the butt of some Sergeant's wrath. As he walked home he went by Steve's apartment, the light was out and he hesitated, should he go and wake him?
Now, all this time later, he knew the flat had been empty. Steve had finally found someone who would accept him into the army - and he had never told James.
They had exchanged a few letters. Steve kept all the details of what he was doing to himself, not because he didn't want to tell Bucky but because he didn't want to worry him – and, of course, he had to consider his letters were being censored before they were sent.
He had told Bucky he had gotten a civilian job at the army camp, and that was why his mail was coming from an army address. Joked how he was helping in the kitchens with the cooking. Bucky knew now it was a different type of cooking altogether. Steve had probably not wanted Bucky Barnes ending up on the camp where he was, on some rescue or big brother mission. It had been Steve's chance to do something, to be someone and he was scared enough as it was.
He had to do it alone otherwise he would never do anything.
The letters tailed off from both of them when Bucky's division went into action. But it hadn't meant Steve wasn't on Bucky's mind.
James still remembered the day his unit was captured. He had thought he knew fear that day...but now he knew it had barely touched him.
He opens his eyes and looks around the room he is in. How long has he been here? It feels like forever. It is forever. He is a different man to the one who had signed up. There is no cockiness now. Back then he had been ready to take on the world, now...now he was broken.
He can hear the guards talking out in the corridor, and he feels the panic creeping up. He is held down so tightly by the straps that he feels he can't breathe. They have taken everything away from him. He is so frightened deep down. Why him? Was it fate that he had been taken captive by them again? What was going to be the outcome? Was he going to be some super soldier like Steve?Amend that, he thinks, to some fucked up super soldier.
But he knows. He knows that his fate will be different. Zola is a different entity entirely from Erskine.
Steve had told him that Erskine's experiment was done all in one go, the serum injected all at the same time, the radiation then administered and Steve's body had changed. Howard Stark had also been in on it. Two brilliant minds working together.
But James? No, not all at the same time; instead years of pain. For James it is a living nightmare of hypodermics, unstable serums, radiation. They can't get it right. They don't know what they are doing.
A nurse comes in, taking no notice of him and putting paperwork down on the desk. He would like to ask for water but he doesn't speak Russian and he knows she would not help him even if he did. He has gotten them in to so much trouble of late. His stomach twinges. He still remembers the increasing pain of the baton as it began to eat through his flesh as he pushed it harder, trying to kill himself, trying to end the nightmare. The smell of his own flesh burning. That is something now he is learning to live with. He has had so much pain he doesn't think he can take any more.
He has killed one of their own as well, they will never forgive him for that.
He closes his eyes.
He does not remember a lot about what Zola did to him before, but he remembers the changes he felt in his body.
But that day Steve found him at the Hydra base. That day someone said his name and he opened his eyes and saw Steve looking at him, he remembers it so well.
He remembers Steve helping him sit up and swinging off the table and nearly falling over being caught by Steve and looking up. Suddenly, Steve was taller than him.
“I thought you were dead,” Steve had said to him.
“I thought you were smaller,” he had replied looking his best friend up and down.
All the way back to the camp he had stayed by Steve's side, glancing at him when he thought he wasn't looking.
So different, yet still the same person.
Then later when they had all been sent for medical checks. Having to flirt with the nurse to make sure she didn't realise he hadn't gone through the tests, telling everyone he was fine. Telling everyone nothing had actually been done to him when it had. Pretending to be Bucky Barnes, joker of the pack, telling stories of how Steve had come to their rescue, always deflecting the attention back onto him.
Keeping himself away from Steve had been the hardest, not just because he knew Steve would realise something is wrong with him, but because he had seen something else. There was a woman in Steve's life. Peggy Carter. How could Bucky have stepped in between them? This would have been Steve's chance at a normal life, and he couldn't spoil that, couldn't take that away from him.
Until the day he couldn't cope anymore. Until the day he had sneaked off camp, into the local woods, found a quiet spot, told himself he just needed the peace and quiet. Not thinking why he had a loaded gun in his hand.
But Steve had found him, curled up against a tree, eyes red, nose snotty, hands shaking, the gun in his mouth ready to blow his brains out.
“If only you hadn't found me,” James murmurs to himself.
“Buck...” Steve had crouched in front of him, hands out not knowing what to do.
This giant of a man was totally helpless to the one person that needed him. He had been watching Bucky closely, knew him more than he knew himself. Knew he had sidetracked everyone from what had been done to him, seen the false bonhomie. Knew something was wrong, deeply wrong. He had seen the lab, seen empty syringes, seen more things than he cared to remember and knew they had done something to Bucky. He had tried to talk to him about it but Bucky just said Steve was dreaming, made sure they were never alone, never just the two of them.
And now his friend, the person who meant the most to him in the whole world was in despair, ready to die.
Dumdum Morgan had seen Bucky sneak out of the camp because Cap had asked him to keep an eye on Bucky - he'd remained behind, covering for them both as Steve went off to find Bucky.
“Buck...what is it, whats wrong?” Steve had asked. Hadn't tried to take the gun, hadn't tried to pull rank, hadn't tried to remind Bucky he was a soldier.
Instead he sat down next to Bucky, ready to listen.
Bucky had just cried, bawled his eyes out and Steve had sat there until Bucky was exhausted; until he couldn't cry any more, until his hand came down to his lap and Steve was able to reach over and take the loaded gun away. Then, laying the gun where Bucky couldn't reach it, he took his friend in his arms and held him close.
James tries to remember the feel of Steve's arms around him as he had cried, the smell of the leather jacket he wore, the comfort that enveloped him.
He had been where he belonged.
Later they had returned to camp, but instead of taking Bucky back to barracks he had put him in a Jeep and told him to wait there. Twenty minutes later Steve had climbed in the other side with a bag and waved some papers at him. A 24 hour furlough for them both. They hadn't talked in the forest and they didn't talk now. Bucky had been too shattered mentally and physically.
Steve had pulled the Jeep up outside a cottage somewhere in the English countryside, not far from camp but far enough that they were alone.
“A friend's,” he had said cryptically, and left it at that. At this point Bucky felt he didn't care any more where he was, as long as Steve was there with him they could be on the Moon.
That was their first night together since Steve had changed. Since Erskine's serum had enhanced his body and given him a new persona.
Bucky still remembers how his hands felt the changes. How solid Steve was now, how it was him that nearly got winded when Steve moved to cover his body, Steve blushing when he realised he had to take it slowly with Bucky and not just because of his fractured mind.
They had made love slowly, cautiously at first, and then when they had finished Steve had taken Bucky in his arms.
“Talk to me,” was all he said.
And Bucky did.
He told Steve what they had done to him, the changes he was feeling, the gut-wrenching feeling of not knowing why and what was happening to his own body. The nightmares, the hot sweats. Hiding from people at the camp so they wouldn't see him lose himself to the fear that crawled up inside and ate at him.
Steve had then told him what he knew about Hydra, and how they were trying to catch up with Erskine's experiments from Project Rebirth. If only Erskine was still alive to help Bucky - but he wasn't, and Steve could only think of one person who could help. Peggy. As soon as he mentioned her name, he felt Bucky draw away from him, physically and mentally. It took him long, patient minutes to get out of Bucky why.
“Because I know I'm losing you to her,” Bucky had said eventually, quietly.
Steve had turned to him, surprised. “What?”
“Aw come on Steve I'm not stupid. I've seen the way you two look at each other, you may not even realise it yet, but...”
And for the first time Steve realised that Bucky could be right. He did have feelings for Peggy. But then he looks at Bucky, looks at this man who has meant so much to him for so long, and knows he couldn't live without him. The thought of never being with him again, never touching him again, makes Steve feel sick.
“Buck, I love you. I will always be here for you, you know I will. I like Peggy, yes, but...”
But Bucky is a realist. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to face losing Steve yet and instead reaches out hungrily for him.
“Don't make promises you can't keep,” he whispers as he kisses Steve to shut him up.
They agreed to keep the truth between the two of them. No one else was to know about the experimentation done on James Barnes - until it is seventy years too late.
And now, all this time later he can't help but wonder - what is Steve doing?
Is he still looking for me?
He doesn't know how long he has been here. How many years? Nothing changes down here, buried deep underground, no daylight, no stars at night, day in day out always the same. He has no idea what day of the week it is, yet alone what month, what year. Time here is different.
Sudden thoughts come to mind.
What did Steve do last Christmas? On his last birthday? How many have gone by?
What if he has forgotten James? What if he has lost himself in Peggy?
“No,no please God...please.” He doesn't want those thoughts. Doesn't want that internal pain.
But then guilt chews at him. Why shouldn't Steve have a good life? Why should he suffer just because James is not there any more? For a moment his mind betrays him, wondering at what type of children Steve and Peggy would have. He could have been their Uncle Bucky, always there for them all.
He wants to turn over, to curl in on himself but the straps won't let him. His skin itches like mad and his heart feels like it is shrivelling up in pain - his heart hurts, he longs to see Steve, just to touch him, just to be held by him.
A sob escapes him.
“Steve,” he whispers. Tears prick his eyes and he closes them.
He nearly lost him before.
He remembers.
He'd made a deal with God.
“Please God, don't let him die. I'll do whatever you want, I'll take whatever you want to dish out but please don't let him die.”
Is this his punishment for that promise? Is this what God thought was a worthy exchange?
Steve was rarely late for anything, and this morning Bucky waited for twenty minutes before deciding to walk towards the apartment, hopefully meeting Steve half way. But he didn't, and by the time he reaches the apartment he is worried.
Looking up, he could see the curtains closed in the bedroom. The two of them were due for a days work offloading the ships down at the dock, it wasn't something Steve would be late for.
Bucky ran up the steps and knocked on the door of the flat. No answer. He kicked over the brick and picked up the spare key.
The moment he entered the flat, he knew there was something wrong. He could smell it in the air. Sickness and sweat. It made his heart beat faster, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He burst into Steve's bedroom, what was once Sarah's bedroom, the place Bucky first ever made love to Steve.
Steve was there, in the bed. The room was stifling hot. Bucky cracked the window to get some fresh air circulating - but not enough to be draughty. He went to the bed.
Steve was burning hot, there was vomit on the bed clothes which were sodden.
“Jesus, Steve, Steve!” He shook him gently, and Steve tried to open his eyes but the effort was costing him. Bucky reached over to the glass on the bedside table and propped Steve up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and had got him to drink.
“What the hell?” Bucky knew how quickly Steve's illnesses could come on. He hadn't seen him for two days. How long had he been ill, for Christ's sake. He only needed go down with one illness and the rest would jump at his vulnerable body.
“Sorry, Buck,” Steve had started to cough. Bucky knows the sound, the rasp, he could hear the crinkling of the lungs. He knew what it was, knew Steve needed help.
“Hey you big oaf, nothin' to be sorry about. How long have you been like this?” He didn't expect a reply and didn't get one.
He couldn't take Steve to the hospital. Neither of them had enough money to cover the bills. They had been in this situation before, but Steve seemed worse this time. He could have tried to get him down to the Mercy Hospital charity room, but the wait would have been hours and Steve was in no condition to sit waiting, coughing his guts up in a room full of sick people.
“Hold on Stevie, I'll be back.”
He wasn't going far.
He went to the flat next door and hammered on the door. The family there knew him, knew Steve well and the mother recognised the look on Bucky's face.
“Can I borrow Frankie?” Bucky asks and the mother nodded without asking why.
“Frankie!” she yelled, turning back into the flat, then looking again at Bucky.
“Is it Steve? Is he bad?”
Bucky nodded just as Frankie approached.
Frankie was a young lad of ten. He had gone on errands before for Bucky.
“Leave the door on the latch, James, and I'll pop in when Frankie comes back and can watch Molly,” the mother had said. She had known Sarah Rogers well, and used to look after Steve for her. She had known Steve for his entire fragile life. It was no good trying to get a doctor out or go to the hospital. The families here were too poor, so they look after each other, did what they could.
Frankie knew the drill and Bucky didn't have to repeat things twice.
There was a dime in it for him if he is fast.
Firstly, he was to go to the Barnes' house and tell Bucky's mother that Steve was ill, and Bucky would be staying at the flat until he is better.
Secondly, he is to go to a doctor Bucky knows. He would write a prescription for Steve. Then next to the chemist with a list of supplies.
Thirdly, bring everything back.
Finally, go to the docks and explain that they won't be coming to work. The guy they work for was a good man, and he would know that it must be something bad for his boys not to turn up.
Then he will come home, earn his dime, and look after his younger sister Molly so his mother could help Bucky.
Bucky went back to Steve. He needed to get the bed clean, get Steve clean, sit him up more. He carried him to a chair in the bedroom, covered him. He was so light, nothing to him at all, and it broke Bucky's heart to see him so ill.
Steve was trying to talk to him. Bucky ran his hand through Steve's blond hair, damp with sweat.
“Sshh, its okay, trust you to get like this. Why didn't you send Frankie to get me?” He told him off, kissed his forehead, then told him everything was going to be okay.
He quickly changed the sheets and getting a bowl of fairly warm water, flannel and a towel he washed Steve the best he could, changed him into clean pyjamas. Then he moved him back to the clean bed, propping him up.
Next, he fetched fresh water and encouraged him to drink just as Frankie came back with the things from the chemist.
Steve was wheezing, which was a good sign - it meant air was getting in.
However, he needed help. Quickly.
The doctor for the area had known Sarah Rogers and knew Steve. He would always fill a prescription for him. He had sent Bucky a course of aminophylline tablets, and the chemist also supplied a batch of Elliots' Asthma Powder. It was unusual for them to supply goods without payment but they knew James Barnes. They knew he would pay. He always does.
He made Steve take two of the tablets, then set the powder burning on the bedside table to help him breath easier. The next door neighbour came in to see if she could help - but she had soon recognised that Bucky had it under control.
They have been in this situation many times before.
“Just bang on the wall if you need anything,” she told him as she scooped up the dirty bed clothes, she would wash them and get them hanging out to dry. Then she left him to it knowing Steve was in good hands.
He pulled a chair up to the bedside and took a deep breath. He had been so frightened when he had seen the curtains pulled, when he smelt the sickness - and then, looking at Steve, how pale he was, he was still frightened.
He spent the rest of the morning sitting at Steve's bedside, ensuring he drank something, checking him, talking to him just so Steve knew he was still there.
His mother arrived with food shortly before one o'clock. Winifred Barnes knew just how much her son loved Steve Rogers - more than his father and brothers knew. As she looked at her son her heart went out to him. He always took the weight of the world on his shoulders and asked for help from no one. She also knew that the love was reciprocated, and that is all she could ask. That someone would love her son just as much as she did, would look after him in this world.
“Thanks Ma,” James said kissing her on the cheek. They warmed up some of her home made soup and between them got Steve to drink some. It wasn't a lot but it was a start.
Before she left, she spoke quietly to her son. “He's bad isn't he, I can see it. He should be in the hospital.”
She was just stating a fact. Bucky's family was not rich. Sometimes things were border-line for them, but they had slightly more than the Rogers did.
She was going to make a call on the way home to their doctor, to see if she couldn't get him to agree to a home visit. The Barnes's would somehow cover the bill.
That night, he crawled into bed beside Steve, sometimes holding him - but not wanting to crowd him. Steve would always reach out for him, would feel safe in Bucky's arms.
It was a long two days for Bucky Barnes, and the night before the illness broke and Steve began to get better he had prayed to God not to take Steve away from him. Watched him try to breathe, trying to get comfortable.
“I'll do anything you want, just don't take him, please don't take him away from me.”
It was as if somebody had heard. The next day Steve opened his eyes and for the first time knew where he was, could manage a sentence without coughing his lungs up, and Bucky knew he had turned a corner.
Steve's eyes were on him, looking at him smiling. “I love you James Barnes, do you know that?”
Bucky had burst into tears, surprising them both and it had been Steve's turn to hold him, to tell him everything was going to be okay.
James thinks of that now, the relief he felt at the time. Knowing Steve wasn't going to die, wasn't going to be taken from him.
He wishes that for a moment he could be with Steve, just to feel his arms around him, just one more time. Just to have Steve whisper to him that everything was going to be all right and that Steve would get him out of here.
He clenches his jaw, does everything he can to stop the sobs that well up in him so they don't hear him crying and decide he needs punishing again.
Can they not understand his thoughts are punishment enough?
- 6
- 7
- 8
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant