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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
- 72
- 73
- 74
Chapter Seventy-Three
The Winter Soldier & The Constant – Traitor!

Alexander Pierce is so close to success that he can almost reach out and touch it. Did Nick Fury honestly think he could snatch it all away? Did he really think his SHIELD was mightier than Hydra? Pierce can't help but laugh in contempt to himself when he looks again at the pictures.
He shuffles through them whilst the man who brought them looks on. Pierce looks up at him suddenly, throwing the pictures on the table. The top one shows Freya Bowman talking to Steve Rogers in the Smithsonian.
“You don't know what was said?” he asked again, but he already knows the answer.
“No sir, just that they obviously decided it was a good place to meet....we nearly missed it. It was only when we ran the disk to see where she had been that we realised she had deviated from her route. Then we had to rely on the CCTV from the museum itself which isn't the most brilliant to say the least.”
“And you don't know if they've met before?”
“We could go back through the logs,” he paused. “To be honest, sir, we took our eye off the ball. We thought she was loyal to us. It was pure luck we caught this.”
“Second-guessing ourselves isn't worth it. Whatever secrets she may have given away...it's too late now to delay anything. We still go ahead as planned.” Pierce sits down, picking up the photos and feeds them into the shredder. “Terminate her.”
“Sir.” The man goes to leave but Pierce is angry. Quietly angry. He gave her a chance; he should have followed his gut feeling about her in the first place all those years ago. How dare she try and undermine the work Hydra is doing when they are so close to completion?
“Wait...”
The man returns to the desk.
“I want her hurt. I want her to know she's lost. Tell them when they do the final programming make sure the Winter Soldier knows she is the enemy, and tell him to kill her. I want her to know he belongs to us,” Pierce looks up and the man swallows.
“Yes Sir.”
“And make sure the body is incinerated afterwards. I don't want any slip ups. I don't want anything left of her.”
“Sir.”
The meeting ends.
*
In the morning you will return to the facility, but for tonight you are both to remain here in the temporary quarters at the Bank Vault. You have such a terrible gut feeling that this is it. This is the end. The things you have overheard...the things they have done to the Winter Soldier...his utter confusion when he came back from his earlier mission...
He just kept repeating: “I knew him.” He had been disorientated, unfocused – even violent. Although you were there when he arrived back, his team would not allow you to speak to him, nor would they look at you. It's as if they know something about you that you don't, it's as if they no longer trust you. You were sent back to your quarters, with Felix telling you that you were not needed.
He wouldn't even look you in the eye.
You wander around the room, picking things up and putting them down again. You don't know if the Soldier will be returned to you tonight. You hate this room. Part of a bank years ago, it now houses the inner-city-centre for the Winter Soldier. It is underground and you rarely sleep here but tonight these will be your quarters. In the end you decide to carry on with routine and you get the things ready that the Winter Soldier will need the next morning.
Because of the butterflies in your stomach, you know this is the time you need to do it. This is the time you need to send him out there with something he may need.
In one of the pockets of his combat trousers you always place a small plastic bag with money in; that way if he ever gets separated on a mission he can always get by until he reconnects with Hydra. This time you put in more money than you normally do. You also wrap the ten $20 bills and ten $50 bills around a small key and place them in the bag, then in the pocket. If you are wrong and they catch you they will kill you...but if you are right, then it may save his life.
You hear footsteps in the corridor and the door opens and for a moment you are relieved. It is him.
Then you see his eyes.
He is so cold, so angry. Over the years you thought you had known his every temper, known his hatred, but tonight it is more than that.
Tonight, you know it is the end.
You don't know what they have told him but you do know the wipe they had to do was extreme. You heard his screaming even in here. And they would not allow you to be present, you were told you are not allowed to even leave your quarters and a guard had been posted outside.
You do not know what you have done wrong, but you are sure you will soon find out and it is serious. Could they have found out about Rogers? About the bag?
The Winter Soldier comes into the room, turns and shuts the door, locking it, and then, looking at you he puts the key up on top of the wardrobe. Somewhere he knows you can't reach.
The smile he gives you is cold, thin-lipped, empty. There is nothing there for you. You swallow. You can see his programming has been hard, deep. His nose has bled at some point and there is a trickle of blood on his neck. There is hatred in his eyes.
*
They set up the usual layers. Reminding him he belongs to them. He must obey orders. They gave him details of his next mission but this time they didn't mention her in the normal way they do.
This time they programmed him with two missions. She is to be the first.
He still remembers her from the wipe, still knows who she is. After they had programmed him on the Project Insight mission, they started the Constant programme. First of all, they make him believe they have him sat at a table. They have sheafs of blank paper, photographs of people doctored to look like his Constant.
They sat at each end with him in between and fed him lies, showing him photographs of her with SHIELD operatives. They said they had proof of her treachery. They were softly spoken. Apologetic. Solicitous, even.
“We are so sorry. We had no idea until now. We know how much she means to you, we have always trusted her. She has let us down too. She has sold you out to SHIELD.”
Photograph after photograph that he believed were real. Images of her with other men, sexual in nature, or worse. Then they showed him bank statements, records of logs where they had 'discovered' she left her route, where he thought, he believed, she was waiting for him after a mission. And now he believes she was with them, with SHIELD.
They tell him they have discovered she has been betraying him and Hydra for years. When he questioned why, they told him she had betrayed them all, that she had been feeding him lies, giving him drugs, even causing nightmares to make him think he recognised the blond-haired man on the bridge who is a top SHIELD operator. She had used her own version of programming him, using insinuations, putting hallucinogenics in his drinks, making him believe he was someone else. Someone who once had a past.
Trying to undermine him. Trying to destroy him from within.
They end it with a short film. Pure porn. A woman servicing two men at the same time, one brunette one blond. None of the actors look like anyone he knows but the programming makes him believe it is Freya with the two men. But even they don't realise how screwed up his brain is when he takes in what is happening in the film. In his mind he thinks it is him, the blond operative...and her.
This short film will come back to haunt him when he least wants it to. He will always carry the poisoned thoughts of Hydra deep in the darkest places and one day he will act on them. Whilst he is shown the film unknown to him in his programmed state a woman sits next to him, whispering in his ear, feeling his erection through the material of his trousers. Using her hand to stroke him until, sobbing, he comes when he doesn't want to.
Oh, they screw him up so very much.
They continue: “We are so sorry. We were going to take her out but Director Pierce thought it was only fair that you are given the chance to kill her. She is your responsibility. She has betrayed you more than any of us. Director Pierce has asked nothing remain of her afterwards.”
When they had finally let him go he had felt he was going to be sick, the images keep flashing through his mind: her with all of those men, then images of her telling him she loves him, telling him she will always be there for him, laughing behind his back. Trying to destroy his mind.
By the time he arrives back at their shared quarters he hates her, hates her with a passion he didn't think was possible. Wants to put his hands around her throat and squeeze until there is nothing left of her.
He has been told about you. He knows you are his responsibility, that you are a traitor - not only to him, but to Hydra. It is his duty to ensure you are dealt with; you won't be coming back from this. Pierce wants it to hurt, not necessarily physically but emotionally because he knows the love you have for James Barnes. Pierce has never loved anyone or anything but power, but he knows how to manipulate it in others. He wants you to know that Barnes has gone forever, to know that the man who is going to kill you is the one you loved for so long.
You can smell the testosterone coming off him, like electricity before a storm.
“What is it? What's wrong?” you ask, your voice trembling. There is such hatred in his eyes.
You can see the adrenaline running through his body. He has so much pent up energy and his mission isn't until the next day: he needs to expel some of it, you see the clenching of his fist and you know you are in trouble.
In a moment of utter panic you try the door. It is firmly locked. You beat on it and scream for help but it will do you no good. The guards have been ordered to ignore you.
He takes hold of your arm and swings you around, slapping you hard and sending you stumbling backwards.
“Did you think we wouldn't find out?” he snarls, his eyes deep pools of black hatred.
“What? Find out? I don't under...” It's as far as you get; he holds your arm and with his other hand slaps you hard again, splitting your lip. Your hand flies to your face.
“You met with SHIELD! You betrayed me! You were going to hand me over to them! You!” he growls and hits you again, making your ears ring.
You don't understand. You know that SHIELD is an organisation that Hydra has infiltrated, but you haven't met with anyone and this is what you try to tell him. “Please, I don't understand,” you say.
He shakes you hard and shouts at you so loud that it hurts your ear drums. “Don't lie to me!” You start to cry; he is red in the face, his hand on your arm is crushing your bone, cords stand out on his neck, his teeth are bared.
“I'm not! Please, please, you know I wouldn't do anything to harm you! Please believe me! I love you!” And he hits you again to shut you up. This time the blow is so hard it knocks you to the floor. Your head hits the corner of the table on the way down stunning you. Blood begins to trickle down your forehead from a wound on your scalp; you crawl to the end of the bed so you can get up and you hear him walk behind you.
He reaches down and pulls you up using the back of your dress, which rips as he throws you face down on the bed. Your dress is partly bunched up in his fist. His other hand pulls your hair to bend your head backwards.
“You're a whore. You don't know how to love. You would sell anything to the highest bidder...you're nothing but scum,” he shakes you hard again.
“No...no...!” You can hardly speak because you are trying to catch your breath; fear is making your heart beat faster. You try to get out of his grasp but he is too strong. He pulls you backwards and off the bed, his hand still clutching your hair, forcing you to balance on your toes to try and relieve the pressure. His eyes roam your body, a sneer on his face.
“How could I ever have fucked you? Tell me, who did you fuck at SHIELD? Or can't you remember their names because there were so many of them?” He obviously doesn't expect a reply. “You utter bitch,” his voice is hard, there is only hate in the tone. “You made me believe you were here for me, all this time...played me, they showed me the pictures...” And, without warning, he draws his arm back and punches you hard in your right side, breaking the ribs. He lets go as your body folds and you collapse to the floor at his feet.
You can't breathe. You try to cry out but it is no good and you start to see stars in your vision. The pain in your side is brutal and you curl in on yourself but he hasn't finished with you yet. He reaches down and his metal hand grabs your shoulder now and clamps down hard, his hand tightening, and you feel the bone of your shoulder collapsing as he crushes it and you nearly pass out.
“I'm going to tear you apart piece by piece,” he says, pulling you up. You try to beg but you can't get any words out and deep down you know he wouldn't listen. He is theirs, he is Hydra's. Your usefulness has come to an end and you knew it the minute Pierce ordered for you to be restricted to quarters.
Then he releases your shoulder, which is black with bruising and the bone is grating where it has fractured. You stumble back, one of your hands brushing the floor and you fall backwards but somehow manage to keep on your feet. You turn and run, although it is little more than a hobble; the only place to go is the bathroom and as you cross the doorway you know he is following.
The room is not nearly as big as your other one at the compound. There is nowhere to go and you turn and put your hands out, your body screaming with pain. “Please, no...”
His face is grim, his eyes mere black holes. He lashes out, sending you backwards and straight through the glass shower door. The door shatters and glass pierces the back of your body as you go down. The breath is pushed from your body as you fall and you do not have the energy to get back up.
He crouches down in front of you, and you do not have time to feel the glass biting before he reaches out and again taking you by the hair he pulls your head back and his hand comes to your throat. His fingers draw across it and then start to tighten and you find it difficult to breathe.
He begins to crush your larynx.
“So easy just to kill you. To watch the life drain out of your lying, cheating body.” He watches your eyes; you want him to keep pressing so he will end your life here but he stops and then bends his head down to the side of your neck and bites hard into the flesh there. The heaviness of his body pushes you further down onto the glass.
You cry out and when he straightens your blood is on his mouth, on his teeth. He is still holding you around the neck. He bends to kiss you, but it is not a lover's kiss. His teeth cut into your broken lip and his tongue invades your mouth, pushing and making you gag until you can't breathe. His hand closes harder around your throat, his mouth on yours.
As things start to go dark he straightens up, lets you go, lets you gasp for air.
“Oh no. It's not going to be that easy for you.”
You are no longer crying. You physically can't. You try to take a deep breath as you attempt to say something.
“What?” he demands.
“I haven't done anything,” your voice is so quiet, so ragged. It hurts to talk. To breathe.
He crouches next to you, just inches from your face and he is still angry, so very angry.
“They told me how you've been working for SHIELD all this time,” he spits in your face and your eyes widen.
“ I don't know what...” But he won't let you finish. He shakes you until you feel your teeth rattle.
“Getting me to think I knew him. Praying on my mind all the time planting ideas, planting thoughts...” You can see the words he is speaking are making him furious, but they make no sense to you.
His breath is coming short and fast and he pulls you up by your hair and throws you up and into the back wall of the shower. When you fall, your arm breaks. You cry out and see that part of the bone is now jutting through your skin and you feel nauseous but you can't actually feel it yet, other parts of your body are keeping it at bay whilst they clamour in your mind getting you to register the other pain you are in.
He leans forward and backhands you, then, giving you no time to recover he reaches down and picks you up bringing your arms up and over your head until you are on tip toes. Both arms are damaged now, one broken, the other crushed. Finally, you pass out.
Darkness.
You are harshly jerked back to reality when he slaps you and throws water in your face, and the pain is immense. Your dress has been cut off and lies in rags at your feet. Your arms are up above your head and tied to the shower rail. You can barely reach the floor. He waits until he can see you are conscious and then he gets his knife and draws it down your body, not quite hard enough to pierce the skin despite the sharpness of the blade. Then he allows the blade to run under your bra straps and he cuts, pulling the material away.
He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and looks at your body, and you see the utter hate there but there is a hungry craving in his eyes, nothing you can say will reach him. He runs his hand up your left arm to the star he carved on there so long ago. He then pushes the blade in and runs the sharp point of the knife around the five points of the star until they are bleeding, then he carves the star out again. His fingers curl around the flap of skin and he pulls hard stripping the already damaged skin away and throwing it to the floor. Your upper arm feels as if it has been burnt, feels as if it is naked to the air.
“You belonged to me. You were mine! You were all I ever had!” His voice is dangerously soft.
He lets go and turns to put the knife on the edge of the sink and then he comes forward again and his hand comes up to your throat, pushing backwards and he leans in and bites you again hard. You groan and when he pulls away he is grinning. “Such a whore...did they enjoy you? It looked like they did.” Then he touches your breast and runs his thumb over the nipple. “Ready no matter what...” he says as it hardens. He twists the skin and pain shoots through your chest. You feel no arousal, nothing but the pain. One of your eyes is beginning to swell, the white now bloodshot and watering. He has hurt you before, nearly killed you, but this time it feels deliberate. This time he will kill you.
“Please don't...” you try to speak, but even you can't recognise the words.
He leans forward, one hand on your breast, and bites into the other one and sucks hard. You feel his tongue swirl across the nipple and then his teeth pull and you think he is going to bite it off but he doesn't. He leaves angry crescent marks and blood dribbling down your body instead.
Then he steps back and reaches forward and so softly, so delicately runs his fingers over your skin. It makes you tremble. It takes your breath away.
“How much did they pay you to betray me? Huh? Was it the money? Was it power? I hope it was worth it.” His voice is low, guttural.
“I didn't betray you. I wouldn't...” But you are barely conscious, and don't finish the sentence.
He stands, looking at you, and you don't know what he is thinking and you don't know what he is going to do. He picks up the knife and, grabbing your hair, exposes your throat to the blade.
The he laughs. “You really believe I'll make it that easy for you?” He digs the blade into the side of your neck and you feel the warm blood trickle down and he draws the blade down splitting your skin, making it sting, and then around to your side and you know what he is going to do. He has done it before, and you shake your head and try to beg as the knife is pushed in between your ribs.
He holds the knife still and kisses your mouth, his tongue invading you, choking you. Then he turns the blade sharply, separating two of your ribs and you scream into his mouth.
He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes deeply. He wants this to last, he is going to hurt you and then kill you. You meant so much to him and you lied, you sold him out. He will never forgive you.
You try to beg, try to turn your body away from him, but his mouth is still covering yours and as he kisses you he pushes his body hard up against yours. His knee forces your legs open wider, one hand clutches you around your waist. The other unzips his trousers and he frees himself.
Then he lays claim to you for the last time. And he is brutal, like a maddened animal.
“You were mine,” he snarls as he finishes. His mouth moves from yours and he whispers in your ear: “You betrayed me. Traitor.”
They showed him proof, they showed him photographs of her with those men, compromising photographs, all photo-shopped...but he doesn't know that. They held the real ones back of her with Rogers at the Smithsonian, they were worried it might trigger a memory and they didn't want him to recognise Rogers again.
They made sure he saw every photograph, every detail.
Her depth of betrayal is outstanding.
She is a traitor, she is nothing to him. She will die...slowly and painfully.
You can see the sweat running down his body soaking his tee shirt along with your blood. You can almost smell the adrenaline. Your shoulders are so painful you are close to passing out again. The glass in your back and your legs stings and you can feel the pieces that have been pushed into your body. The pain is immense but you cannot scream - you have nothing left to vocalise.
You are aware of him watching you, just standing there, and you try to look up at him. His face is blank, his eyes are blank. His knife is back in his hand, he steps in close. He places the blade on your breastbone, the point digging into the skin leaving a scratch mark and as he pulls it down between your breasts a bead of blood follows. The knife slowly moves downwards to just under your navel, the blade stinging. Then you feel pressure and you feel the knife blade enter your gut. He knows exactly where to strike: he doesn't want you dying straight away, he wants it to hurt as much as possible.
“I believed in you,” he whispers turning the blade, sinking it in deeper and then pulling it out.
Darkness once more.
She is unconscious by the time he speaks again. She does not hear his words.
“I loved you,” and there is such pain in his voice.
He leans forward and reaches up with the bloodied knife, cutting the binding holding her hands. She falls hard to the ground. Then he moves past her and to the sink and cleans himself up whilst she lies still, her blood pooling around her.
You are aware of nothing but pain. You try to open your eyes and although the light is not bright it still hurts your eyes. Makes you blink. Time seems to have gone by. You are alone.
You are lying on your side, facing the shower, and you are freezing cold. The tiled floor under you is leaching all of your heat and there is blood pooled around you. There isn't a part of your body that doesn't hurt. You try to move but the pain just makes you cry out. You curl in on yourself, trembling, but even that small movement causes pain to burn its way through you sending spasms through your body. Your hands cover the wound in your belly. You expected more blood but you know that the bleeding is internal, draining out of you, killing you slowly.
You close your eyes.
You hear footsteps, the crunching of broken glass. Someone walks around you and you try to open your eyes again. Booted feet stand next to you and then the Winter Soldier crouches down on one knee, making sure he doesn't get contaminated by your blood.
He is dressed in his combat outfit. The one you left out. The one you hid the key in.
You try to reach out to him but neither of your arms will move.
“Help me, please...” your voice is barely a whisper.
Nothing happens for a moment but then he reaches forward and takes a handful of your hair and pulls you up. You cry out with the pain that shoots through different parts of your body and he is looking at you, distaste and hatred showing on his face.
You raise your hand. Your fingers are broken. You can't even remember that damage being done.
“Please,” you beg.
You don't think he is going to answer, but then he does. “Please what? Just what do you think I am going to do for you? You deserve nothing. You're filth, nothing more.”
“I love you. I always have. Please believe me...” You are not going to beg for your life. It is too late for that you can feel it. Your body is closing down. You just want him to know, want him to realise you would never betray him.
You have only ever loved him.
You have one more thing you must tell him and this gives you the smallest bit of strength to actually reach out and try to clutch his arm, your fingers misshapen and black with bruising. It is so important and if you don't tell him then nothing you have done to try and protect him will matter. Your whole body has begun to tremble with the cold.
You say something but he can't hear because your voice is so quiet. Yet you have his attention: he leans closer so you repeat the words.
“The Smithsonian Station lockers.”
He frowns. He hears what you say but it makes no sense and he assumes you are confused. After all, you are dying and it is in probability just another lie from your whore mouth.
Instead he lets go of you and you sink back down to the ground and the coldness of the floor. Your ears are buzzing loudly and everything seems to have slowed.
He turns to the two guards standing at the doorway of the bathroom.
“Take this mess away and burn it!” he snaps, stepping over you.
It is the last thing you hear him say.
*
“Take this mess away and burn it!”
The Winter Soldier looks at both guards and they swallow. It is the first time he has ever spoken to either of them, it is the nearest they have ever been to him. His voice is cold and there is disgust in his eyes and he walks past them, grabs his bag and leaves.
They are left looking at the unconscious woman lying on the bathroom floor. There is so much blood.
“Jesus, I don't want to even touch her. Why do we get the shit jobs?” Jerrell Thompson, red blooded American - always complaining – although that is an insult to good Americans everywhere. Which is something Jerrell is most definitely not.
And there's the funny thing about Jerrell; his mother chose the name because it means good guy, popular to be with and that is what she wanted her son to be. Unfortunately, he couldn't be more of the opposite if he tried. Lazy, always complaining, always on the look out for anything to make his life easy, anything he can borrow. He joined Hydra because he is a bully and a grunt and Hydra makes him feel important.
The other guard looks at him. Armand Joncker. Originally his family were Dutch, but for some reason he can never fathom, people always think he is German.
All that is running through Armand's mind is: How the hell am I going to do this? How the fucking hell?
By now Jerrell is walking around the woman, gawking at her naked body. His previous reluctance to touch her is disappearing, his manhood is telling him any fuck is better than none, and it's been a long time since he was with a real woman. “Jesus, you should see the bite marks on her...” he actually crouches down and puts a hand out to push her on her back so he can see more, see her naked form, the thought of what the Winter Soldier must have done to her making him hard.
Armand wants to shoot Jerrell. He knows exactly what is going through Jerrell's mind, one quick fuck before they dispose of the body. Doesn't matter to him whether she is dead or alive; it so rare Jerrell gets a woman, hell, he would fuck anything.
Armand moves forward. “Hey come on. You said yourself you don't want to get any of her blood on you, it'll be a bugger to wash off your clothes.” He feels sick just saying it. This is the Constant they are talking about.
Jerrell looks up, grinning, and Armand points to his leg. Jerrell looks down and sees he is kneeling in blood.
“Shit! Shit! Hey, why didn't you say?” He springs up fast and backwards.
“I just did,” Armand says drily. He is trying to think of a plan, trying to work out what he can do.
Both guards are in civvies as they will be driving back to the facility later through the city. All hell is due to break loose soon and they need to be back and changed into full gear before their unit is deployed to down-town Washington later tonight. They will be on riot duty expected once the citizens realise they are no longer in a free world. They will be in Hydra's world, policed by those bloody massive helicarriers.
Whilst Jerrell is wiping his trousers with a towel, Armand suggests a plan.
“If you get caught trying anything we'll be in big trouble and I really don't want that. There is nowhere here to burn her so we'll take her back with us when we leave later. We can use the incinerator at the base. We'll just grab some sheets, wrap her up in them and then put her in the trunk. We have to be back there by eight o'clock and once we're there we can just throw her into the fire, problem sorted.”
Jerrell is sulking and a grunt is his only response. He knows Armand is right and it pisses him off to have such a perfect goddamn German partner.
Armand disappears into the other room before Jerrell can change his mind. He comes back in trailing all the bedclothes he could find.
“I don't really want her staining the trunk,” Armand says as an excuse and, throwing the sheets down, he goes forward to the shower, broken glass crunching under foot. He removes the shower head and puts the water on. He then goes as far forward as the hose will allow and sprays the water on the woman's body, washing off as much blood as he can so he can try and see what injuries she has without Jerrell realising.
Jesus he can see she is still alive. Still breathing. But she won't be for long.
He switches the water off and realises that Jerrell has skulked off to the other room whilst there is work to be done. Armand pulls at the sheets and lays several out next to her and then goes to gently roll her on to them. But as he slides his hand under her body he feels a sharp point and instead he gently tries to lift her to see what has happened, his own hand is now bleeding. Her back is sliced open and glass shards are protruding.
“Jesus,” he whispers, closing his eyes for a second.
He doesn't know first aid, yet alone what to do. He is sure somewhere he read that you must never pull glass out of a wound in case it causes more bleeding. He leans over and pulls out the smallest slivers of the glass but leaves the large pieces alone.
Instead he moves her onto her side on the sheets and tries his best to wrap them around here. She groans but her eyes don't open; although she is unconscious he can hear it is a struggle for her to breathe.
He takes a deep breath, pulls her up into his arms, trying to miss the glass where possible and carries her into the next room where Jerrell is pawing through an open suitcase and stuffing a pair of woman's pants into his pocket.
“Help me get her to the car,” Armand says to Jerrell, and they leave the room.
He was expecting her to be heavy but she is surprisingly light and by the time he gets her to the trunk of their car blood is leaking through the white sheets staining them bright red. He can smell the iron scent of the blood and it is making him feel queasy. He just hopes that she can last until he can get her back to the base but he is aware that it is going to be hours before then.
Jerrell opens the trunk and Armand places her inside and quickly shuts it before Jerrell gets any more ideas about her.
They report to their officer who knows what it is they are doing; they have a few things to do and then they will head back to the main base. It will take them a good few hours to get there, especially at this time of day with the traffic so heavy, but Armand offers to drive and Jerrell takes him up on it.
Armand tries to stay at a steady pace, aware of the awful predicament he is in. In the trunk is the Constant and she could be dead now for all he knows. Jerrell will make some play to use her before they place her body in the fire. He has bought them some time but that is all. He knows Jerrell too well.
Jerrell is complaining about the drive, how hungry he is, how they need gas, how he needs to go to the toilet and so Armand pulls in at a gas station. They are in the middle of nowhere and still have a few miles to go. Whilst Jerrell uses the men's room Armand pays for the gas and picks up some food and water. He sees the TV screen behind the counter is showing nothing but static, the guy behind the till is not happy, he had been watching the ball game. Armand knows pretty soon he won't be happy when he finds out the reason for the static. He takes the food and stows it on the back seat. He has bought three hot dogs and when Jerrell climbs back in he can smell them.
“Hey great,” he goes to grab them.
“Wait a minute! I don't want to eat them here, it stinks of gas. Give me two minutes to get somewhere else and we can stop and eat,” Armand says and, true to his promise, about two miles later he pulls off the road under some trees. There is nothing else around for miles.
He stops the car and gets out, opening the back door to grab the food. Jerrell follows as Armand wanders away from the car and under the trees for shade. Although it is getting late the sun is low and Armand has a thumping headache. He gives his partner two of the hot dogs, knowing Jerrell's greediness. They stand side by side as they eat.
“Do you ever wonder what it's all about?” Armand asks, brushing off his hands. Jerrell is still stuffing his face, he has no time for Armand's deep debates and just grunts. “I mean, Hydra is supposed to be about a better world but it's not is it? It's just another load of rich people trying to take control of the world, not giving a damn what they are doing to other people. It's all broken promises.”
Jerrell isn't sure when the words penetrate his mind as being wrong. “What the fuck you talking about?” he says, turning and shoving the last of the hot dog into his mouth.
Armand has his gun out, aimed at Jerrell. “You know, Jerrell, I wish you knew how much I hated you and your fat pig ignorance.” And he fires and Jerrell's mouth hangs open as he sees the red blossoming on the front of his shirt. He drops to his knees as Armand walks towards him. “You see, not everyone agrees with Hydra. With you bully boys having the power, with the harm you are doing...hope you enjoyed your meal. It was your last.” And he shoots his partner in the head and watches as Jerrell's body keels over into the dirt.
Quickly he puts his gun away and drags the body behind the trees. It's not perfect but it will have to do for now. Then he runs back to the car and with shaking hands opens the trunk and pulls gently at the sheets. He has her lying on her side towards him.
“Don't be dead,” he murmurs quietly to himself but he thinks he is too late. The amount of blood soaking the sheets, the paleness of her skin, the grey of her lips...but one thing has counted in her favour. It is a warm day and the sun beating down on the metal of the car has made the trunk warm, and warmth is what is needed for the small amount of serum in her body to start to work.
Armand is unaware of this however. All he knows is that he has to try and keep her alive until he can get her to the compound. He grabs a bottle of water from the front of the car and opens it then tries to dribble some into her mouth. Jesus, her face is bruised so badly he doesn't think her own mother would recognise her.
He gets no response and isn't medically trained. He tries to find a pulse but doesn't know how to.
“Come on. Don't die, please don't die,” he murmurs but there is still no response.
He places a bunched up sheet under her head and makes her as comfortable as he can in case she is still alive. Then he gets out his phone and dials a number.
“I've gotten rid of Jerrell. I had to, couldn't get her past him but I think its too late. I think she's dead,” he says to the person on the other end. He listens. “What's that got to do with anything? Huh? Yes, the trunk is warm but she's as pale as a ghost and there's so much blood. I can't find a pulse or anything.” He listens again. “What the...how? What the hell happened?” He looks at his watch. “About another twenty minutes...yeah...okay...okay.”
He puts the phone away and returns to the trunk. “Well, looks like the shit's hit the fan so God knows what we're heading into,” he says, even though he knows she cannot hear him. He closes the trunk and gets back in the car making sure no one can see Jerrell's dead body behind the trees and then he rejoins the road.
He draws up at the Guard Hut and they check his pass. “What's going on?” he asks, as he can see the whole base is busy with trucks being loaded up and people all over the pace.
“Evacuating,” the guard shrugs and waves him through.
He pulls the car up outside the Project Winter Soldier building, usually referred to as PWS, and there is someone waiting for him who hurries forward.
“What happened?” Armand asks, looking at all the trucks moving out.
The man looks around to make sure he is not overheard. “I think Hydra have lost the first round. They're all getting out quick,” he smiles. They hurry to the trunk. “Word came through to evacuate the camp, they're going to blow parts of it. Everyone is leaving to regroup.”
“Jesus, what about her?” Armand opens the trunk and gently lifts the woman out. Her arm falls out of the wrapping and the man sucks his breath in. “God almighty, we'll have to hurry.”
As they travel down in the lift the man is trying to find a pulse, anything to indicate she is alive.
They get to the third floor. The people pushing past taking no notice of them. He peers into the rooms as they walk by and sees people packing up, moving items but the man leads him further down the corridor and into Cryo freeze.
“Put her down here.” He indicates a trolley and carefully Armand lays the woman down on her side. The other man rushes over to a panel and switches the power on. The room seems to start to glow with an unearthly light from the room next door. Armand goes over to a window which shows the room and he shudders when he sees what looks like two metal coffins. These must be the pods he has heard about.
“Help me, Armand,” the other man says and Armand hurries back.
“Give this to her. She's still alive, but barely.” He passes him a hypo gun which Armand looks a blankly. “Just put it against her arm and press,” the man says. He is trying to stem some of the blood flow, looking at the damage.
“Jesus,” he says again, when he sees the knife wound in her belly and then Armand shows him the glass embed in her.
Before they can do any more a man crashes through the doors and stops in his tracks.
“What the hell is going on? I thought you were all evacuated! We're about to blow the place!” he exclaims, looking from the two men to the woman on the table. Then he looks again. “Is that...” is as far as he gets before Armand shoots him in the head.
The man working on the Constant is a Cryo freeze technician by the name of Morgan and belongs to the same movement as Armand. It is a movement that has been operating inside of Hydra for the last seventy years, a small group of people who do not believe in what Hydra is doing. The group was founded by one of the original doctors, Eric Jakobs. Its mission statement is simple: hiding and storing information all these years. Their secondary mission is equally as important: to protect Freya Bowman at any cost, because she alone knows all the secrets of Project Winter Soldier. They need her to live. Not only is she living proof, she is also a witness. They need her to tell the outside world what has been going on deep underground all these years.
She cannot die. She must not die.
Morgan does what he can to dress the wounds. He removes some more of the glass shards but there are two he is unsure about so leaves those in place and gives her a shot of antibiotics; the last thing they need is for her to survive the worst wounds to then die of the savage bites and scratches inflicted. He knows she needs heat for the small amount of serum her body carries to work but there is nowhere safe they can take her, nothing else they can do but this.
He grabs a clean shift and with Armand's help they dress her in it. Blood immediately begins to soak through the white cotton. It is amazing how much blood the human body holds.
Morgan asks Armand to pick her up and carry her through to the other room, the one where the light reminds him of an undersea world. The smell of mould and damp hits him as he goes through the door. Morgan opens one of the metal pods and Armand gently lowers the woman in. He leaves her lying on her side to protect her from driving the glass any deeper into her body. He can hear a noise coming from the pod, a kind of thrumming, and it is vibrating gently.
“Will she live?” he asks Morgan.
Morgan stops for a moment. “I don't know. I really don't know,” he answers honestly. “But this is her only chance. If we can keep her in cryo and come back for her when we know what is going on we can give her the medical attention she needs then. This is the only way.”
He reaches up and closes the metal lid and it creates a vacuum seal with the bottom part, sealing her in. On a computer control unit on the top Morgan presses a digital panel and Armand jumps as a noise like escaping gas hisses out and cold white fog swirls around the inside. He can see through the glass panel on the top as the fog envelops the woman.
“I'm not even going to attempt to ask you how it works,” he says to Morgan, and it makes Morgan smile for the first time.
They hurry back through the other room and as they pass through the doorway Morgan turns and closes the inside door to the room and it plunges it into darkness. He adjusts some of the locks on the outside and then returns to the control panel and works quietly until he has finished what he needs to do.
“What about when they blow this place?” Armand asks.
Morgan shrugs. “I think the charges only destroy the top levels of the buildings. As we are so deep nothing should happen down here but it's guess work...there's just nothing else we can do.” He gathers up a few things and then finally looks back at Armand. “We need to get out of here now...” He looks at the dead man on the floor and Armand, without speaking, picks up the body. The last thing they want to do is leave a dead corpse rotting down here to poison the air.
Morgan looks back into the room and then reaches up and turns the lights off. All that can be seen are a few flashing computer lights on the panel. He lets the door close behind them.
The route back to the lift is eerily quiet. There is no one else around; the whole base is being abandoned. There are papers strewn across the corridor, and someone has dropped a sandwich of all things. They call the lift, getting in and pressing for the first floor, the lift stops and making sure there is no one about Armand takes the dead body to one of the rooms and leaves it there. He rejoins Morgan back at the lift and they go to the top floor.
When they get to the top floor and walk outside the building it is to watch a long line of vehicles moving out. There is no longer anyone manning the gates. They see several people checking wires and explosives around the camp and they know they are out of time. Armand and Morgan will go their separate ways, will wait to see what happens when the dust has settled, to see who has emerged triumphant. And then make their moves when necessary.
They leave the camp in opposite directions, agreeing to meet in a years' time at a certain place. They then leave the place that has been their work place and home for the last few years without a backward glance.
*
Down in the cryo freeze room a distant rumble is heard and dust falls from the ceiling. Another rumble, nearer this time, sounds and more dust falls. A crack appears in the corridor outside.
The lights continue to flash on the panels but then there is a deep rumble overhead and debris falls from the ceiling.
In the room with the metal pods a beam dislodges and hangs from the ceiling. When the next ear splitting rumble happens, cracks appear around the room and the beam falls right through the metal pod underneath, breaking it in half.
Silence descends.
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant