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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
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- 98
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Steve & Freya – Recollections

Steve
He will never forget the phone call telling them that James Barnes had been kidnapped. That told Steve he had let Bucky fall again – hadn't kept him safe – had broken his promise. Jesus. He sits now on the edge of the bed, and he cannot even cry. They are still waiting for word on what had happened. Jeremy Sands had been the first one to be alerted, and he had been the one to immediately call Steve and Freya.
The phone had started ringing at a time everyone should have been in bed, asleep. And that is what Freya and Steve were doing; they had taken to sleeping together in the same bed. Not a word had been spoken, there was no decision made, it had just happened.
“Rogers,” he had said bleary down the phone. Sands had begun talking, and Steve had swung out to sit on the side of the bed. Freya was now awake, crouched behind him listening to just one side of the conversation. Her face pale, worried. “What do you mean taken? Who? Hydra? What do you mean you don't know? We're coming over...” his sentence interrupted as he listens some more. “So you expect us to just sit here? For us to do nothing?!” Steve ran his hand through his hair then slammed the phone back down and stood up.
“What is it?” Freya asked, although deep down she knew.
“Bucky's missing. He's been taken but they don't know by whom. Sands was told about ten minutes ago but it happened over an hour ago and the prison have only just admitted to it. Apparently they didn't even know at first that anything was wrong, but one of the guards managed to sound the alarm.”
“Was anyone killed?”
“No, it looks like they wanted him alive. The men that came for him had tranquilliser guns. Saying that, Sands said one of the guards is missing but they don't know if he was kidnapped as well or was in on it.” They dressed as they talked.
It has been a long night, well morning. There was nothing they could do, no clues to follow. Bucky was gone. They didn't even know if he was still alive. Sam and Nat had come to the tower as soon as they heard, and then Steve had gone to the jail with Sam, asking Freya and Nat to stay behind in case anyone tried to get in touch
Someone did.
A package was delivered addressed to both her and Steve. Nat phoned Steve and he told them to open it. Freya's hands were shaking as she did so; inside was a pay-as-you-go phone. Nat switched it on and several minutes later it rang. She handed it over to Freya reluctantly – because Nat wanted to strangle the-son-of-a-bitch on the end of line. And that made her more annoyed; she was feeling far too much these days, losing her ability to stay calm.
“Hello,” Freya's voice was strong but Nat could hear the worry in it. As Freya had done earlier, Nat listened to one side of the conversation.
“Please? Is he all right? Where is he? Please don't hurt him. Are you with Hydra...hello...hello?” and the phone went dead.
Jarvis apologised, and said that he was unable to trace the call. Steve had returned half an hour later.
“Tell me everything they said,” Steve's anger shows in his voice and comes out at Freya. Nat can see they are both tired, both desperate.
Freya took a deep breath. “I've told you everything they said already! They said they had Bucky, although they called him Barnes. They said that he was alive and unhurt. They had phoned because they wanted us to know he was safe and that he hadn't been taken by Hydra...and then they hung up.”
“And there were no noises in the background? You didn't recognise the voice?” Freya had shaken her head. There had only been the one voice, deep and distorted, no other sounds, nothing.
Now here they were two days later, knowing nothing new. No trace of anything had been found. It is as if James Barnes has disappeared of the face of the earth.
“I did it again pal, I let you fall,” Steve mutters to himself. He doesn't know what to do but wait.
Bayer has already had restrictions placed on their movements, although they will ignore them if they have to. He is furious and believes it has been arranged by Rogers and Bowman with the help of their Avenger friends. But he is wrong. They truly do not know where he is. Nobody does.
*
Steve sits and remembers.
“So you gonna keep the outfit?” Bucky had asked him, and Steve felt himself blush.
He looked at Bucky. “It's kind of grown on me,” he says, and this time it is Bucky that colours.
The next night Bucky asks him to wear it. “Why? Do you need rescuing?” Steve had asked.
“You've already rescued me several times over,” Bucky had replied, looking at Steve with that look that makes Steve feel he is worth a million dollars.
Steve wears the outfit, all but the face mask. Bucky walks around him, tracing lines of the suit with his fingers. Then he stops in front of him, and his eyes are so blue, dark, full of want and Steve swallows. He bends forward and kisses him and Bucky's hands come up and run through Steve's hair pulling him even closer.
Then the next thing he knows he's being pulled onto the bed and Bucky is hastily peeling of the material. “Hey I thought you wanted me to keep it on,” Steve laughs.
Bucky looks at him. “Just shut up and help will you!”
Steve had ended up stark-naked; Bucky had barely taken anything off and when someone had knocked at the door calling Steve's name Bucky just needed to do his zipper up. Steve had bolted upright off the bed, trying to put the uniform back on - it was the only thing to hand. Bucky had answered the door just as Steve, hopping on one foot, had fallen to the floor on the other side of the bed and lay still and out of sight, because he was still more or less naked - even if his ardour was now cooling!
“Sergeant Barnes, you seen Captain Rogers?” Steve recognised Colonel Chester Phillips's voice.
“Shit no,” Steve had whispered to himself.
“Seen him?” he heard Bucky ask.
“Yes son...as in, have you seen Captain Rogers? This is his room isn't it?” the colonel's voice doesn't sound very amused and he hears Bucky clear his throat.
“Yes sir but no sir, I mean, yes its his room, but no I haven't seen him. I was just waiting for him myself, shouldn't be too long....”
“Well then, I'll just come in and wait with you.” The Colonel moves to walk past but finds Bucky blocking the way.
“Um, well when I say shouldn't be long I mean, he's um, well you know he's...” and then Bucky lowers his voice as if sharing a secret: “He's with Peggy Carter, so he may be longer than I thought, if you know what I mean, sir.”
The thing with Bucky is he can make most people believe him: he has this smile, one of pure wide-eyed innocence, and he uses it now.
There is a moment's silence and Steve is praying. Whilst the Commandos know about him and Bucky, other personnel do not and it is not something that people would be happy about back in the day....especially not a commanding officer.
“I see. Well, tell him to come and see me at headquarters...when he can spare the time. Peggy Carter huh?”
“Yes, sir I think he said it was something to do with British-American relations...you know, sharing of ideas and....such like.” And Steve can see in his mind Bucky's smile because he can hear it in Bucky's voice.
After the door was closed Steve had looked over the top of the bed, red faced, still struggling with the material.
“Anglo-American and English relations?” he growls and gets up pulling at the material that will just not allow itself to be pulled up. In the end he stands there, hair messed, half dressed in red white and blue, annoyed and hot.
Bucky had looked at him innocently. “I was just thinking of your reputation, Captain.”
“And what about Peggy's?!”
Bucky had grinned. “Intact. She's at camp, and when he gets back he'll find her at headquarters.”
“How do you know she's there?”
Bucky just shrugs: “I just do.” And how did Bucky know she was there? Because he had talked to her the previous day on the pretence of arranging rotas, which is how he knew where she was today. He had in fact specifically gone to see her with something else on his mind; he had seen the way she looked at Steve, had known deep down that if he hadn't been there then there was a possibility that Peggy and Steve would be together. Peggy had even promised Steve a dance.
Being blunt, Bucky had told Peggy if she had any problems getting stockings, underwear, perfume, for her dance date with Steve, then to let him know and he would arrange it.
“Don't be so damn impertinent!” she had snapped in that British accent of hers. He had smiled and saluted her and at the door he had turned once more to speak to her.
“Ma'am, just one favour... make sure you get that dance,” he had said and then left.
If he was killed he didn't want to think of Steve being alone; Peggy had told Steve about the conversation after Bucky was lost and it had haunted him. Bucky always seemed to joke about life, but there were times he could be deadly serious; especially towards the end when depression would smother him, leave him shaking, sobbing, and no matter what Steve did he couldn't help. That was what Hydra had done to him.
And then Steve lost him.
And now?
“Buck” he says softly, “oh Buck.”
Steve has lost him all over again.
*
Freya
You feel as though you are drowning. The last proper conversation you had with James you had shouted at him, hit him and what had he done? He had told you he loved you. You never got the chance to put it right, never got the chance to tell him how much you love him too, how much he means to you – how much Bucky, James and the Soldier mean to you. You have this fear that you will never have the chance to tell him, that you will never see him again.
There is no news about his disappearance other than the phone call you received and the call had been of too short a duration for Jarvis to have captured anything. Tony had suggested you keep the phone on you at all times in case it rings again and you and Steve do so; at night it is recharged on the bedside table. You pray it will ring. You pray they will tell you where he is, that they let you speak to him. That they will allow you to bring him home.
You have a moment of panic as a bout of pain hits you, and you are thankful you are by yourself. You sit down clutching your belly. The bouts are getting more frequent and have been happening since that awful night. You know you need to do something about them but what? Maybe a visit to Anita for more antibiotics? Some nights the pain can get so bad you have to hide in the bathroom, biting down on a towel so Steve doesn't hear you. They began as uncomfortable spasms but then progressed to more immediate pain. Other times there is nothing and you think they have finished, a moments aberration that is all. You can feel heat there, maybe at your late age they are just the change women go through? You keep meaning to look it up on the internet, can someone who has been sterilised still go through the change? You don't know.
But now is not the time to think about them. Now is the time to think of James and only James. You think back to all you have been through with him how many times in the past you thought you had lost him. The times when he had been James and they had tortured him, what they had done to him, how they had created the Winter Soldier. It seems like a dream now, or more of a nightmare. When you see people going about their normal lives it is hard to think that what had happened to you was real. You know this is why the people at the trial didn't believe you - because if they did, what does that mean about the world they live in?
And he is suddenly there in your memory. Waiting for them to strip him of his mind, pushing him back in the chair, cuffing him, wrists and legs so tight it will leave marks, abrasions when he struggles against them because of the pain. The metal plates covering most of his face will burn the skin, and the terrible smell of his hair singeing. The mouthguard cracked; it doesn't always protect his teeth. The fits make him scream so loud his throat is hoarse. Then his body comes up from the chair. You can hear his bones creak, sometimes you hear them snap.
And then he goes quiet. That is the worst part.
And you? You had done nothing to stop them. Nothing!
And what about the nights he wouldn't let you go. So angry that he needs to lose himself inside you, needs to hurt you, needs to hate you. He would force you to your knees, or hold you so tight you could not breathe. He would bruise your skin, scratch you, even carve his red star in your flesh because you are his and his alone.
You told him last time that you would not let the Soldier hurt you any more, but if it meant you could see him one last time you would accept any punishment from him – what does that make you?
You close your eyes so that you can see him. “Please, God, keep him safe. He has been through so much. Please help him,” you pray. He once asked you if you believed in God and you answered truthfully: “I don't know.” And then after they wiped him he never mentioned God again.
You hear music, far off within the tower, 1940's music – Steve's music and you remember the night the Soldier danced with you. You have danced with him twice but you shut the second memory out and just concentrate on the first. You stand and close your eyes. You think of how he held you, how he moved. You leant your head against his chest. It had not lasted long, but for those few seconds you were both able to forget where you were, forget Hydra, forget the Soldier's missions. Your body sways ever so sightly.
“James,” you say softly and open your eyes. You are alone, yet you could have sworn you saw his shadow as your eyes opened.
“Wishful thinking,” you murmur. But you are still thinking of the Soldier. When you see him in your mind, you see his cruel eyes, his thin lipped smile but you also see something else – within those eyes of his, beautiful, blue and deadly, there is also a need. He thinks he keeps it buried, keeps it hidden from you but he doesn't. There were times when he seemed to forget who he was, seemed to forget his cruelty as if just by being with you softened him.
You remember. You are in the bathroom, you were both woken from cryo the previous day. He has been programmed and is not due to leave until 2am; at present he is off running and you know he is trying to get rid of the excess energy that makes his body hum as if it is full of electricity. It is 8pm and you are getting ready for bed because when he leaves you always make sure you are awake should he need you. You do this even when he doesn't know you yet.
The heat in your quarters is never quite right; sometimes it is cold, sometimes too warm. Tonight it is too warm, and you have the door open to the patio area to try and let some air in. You are in your shorter nightdress. Although you showered when you were woken you did not brush your hair properly afterwards, just hastily put it in a plait. Now you regret that, it looks and feels like a rats' nest.
You undo the plait, watching your reflection in the mirror, and then separate the hair as much as you can and start brushing. The brush is a metal bristled one so you are doing it slowly because it hurts. You look away and down at the mess you have pulled forward, but as you do the room seems to darken and your eyes go back to the mirror. The Soldier is there behind you. He can be so quiet at times, it makes you jump. He is dressed in teeshirt and combat trousers, has kicked his boots off in the other room. No wonder you didn't hear him. He studies your reflection with cold eyes and that thin lipped smile.
You expect him to leave but he doesn't. Instead he takes the brush out of your hand. Then he starts brushing your hair from the top downward. He doesn't get very far before the brush gets caught in the knots and he tugs and pulls it through until your neck aches from being pulled backwards. You know not to speak, even though this is something he has never done before. When you look at his reflection he is frowning, studying your hair, pulling the brush down, scraping your scalp, and then it is getting caught again. He untangles it and does it again but he is hurting you with each stroke. The metal tines scrape across part of your cheek scratching your skin and you put a hand up to touch the scratches. Your eyes are watering.
He stops. You look in the mirror, and he is looking at you.
“Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice gruff.
“I'm not,” you reply quietly, and then to show the liar that you are a tear runs down your cheek and you brush it away. He gets hold of your hair and pulls your head back.
“Don't lie to me!” his voice is angry and you swallow.
“I'm not crying, its just...you're hurting me and making my eyes smart. That's all.”
He studies you and then lets you go. He sees the scratches on your cheek.
“Hold this,” he says, and hands you the brush. You watch his reflection in the mirror as he takes your hair in his metal fist, catches it all into a ponytail and then he reaches forward and takes the brush back from you.
He begins brushing again but this time with a gentleness that you didn't think the Winter Soldier was capable of. Neither is it as painful, as his grip is preventing the hair from being tugged out of your scalp. You can see he is actually concentrating on not hurting you and once again your feelings for this side of James are put through the wringer. You hate him, but you love him as well. He looks at you at these times with such cruel eyes, that dark smile, but also buried there is that need for you in those eyes. He just doesn't need you to survive - he needs you without realising it.
It gets to the point where the brush passes through your hair easily. He puts the brush down and turns you around. Those eyes study you. His finger runs over the scratch marks. You remember now how your heart was beating so fast, how you could smell him so close, see a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and top lip. You raised your hand hesitantly and he allowed you to run the back of your fingers down his stubbled cheek. He caught your hand and then pulled you through to the bedroom. You nearly tripped on the way.
His hands now were not so gentle as he stripped you of your nightdress. His touch was heavy as he pushed you down, forcing your legs open with his knee and he reached down undoing his zipper. His breathing was fast, the sweat heavier. He hasn't kissed you yet. You feel his fingers on your pants and your own hand goes between his legs to release him. He groans as you touch him and it is like you have freed him, his mouth comes down on yours, his kiss desperate, hurting. His lips move to your throat and you feel him bite the skin. You know in the morning you will carry bruises. His hands are demanding, pulling at you, his cock hard and he tears away your pants and pushes into you with no gentleness, just need. He bites your nipples and sucks. And you? You feel the wetness between your legs, legs which you have wrapped around him. You pull at him, you clutch him close, you want to beg him not to stop, to go deeper until you are so carried away your whole body feels as if it on fire and once again he takes you. You are his and you always will be.
And now here in the future, you are still as confused by him as you were then. And you know the Soldier is just as confused by you. He betrayed you not so long ago and you have told him that you will not let it happen again. And now you know you will still make him keep his promise not to hurt you, but part of you - part of you hates yourself for saying so. Part of you doesn't want him to stop.
James' mind created the Soldier to protect Bucky, to do the things he could not. Even as the Soldier pushes you away he is pulling you back because he cannot live without you, he doesn't want to live without you. You and he share a lifetime of memories and now he is to be banished. You realise he truly does not hate you because when he hurts you, you know he is doing it because that is the only way the Winter Soldier knows how to show you his love.
And that is why you let him.
How fucked up you both are.
“Please God, wherever he is, look after him. Don't hurt him any more.” And you cry because you know that if you are lucky enough one day to see Bucky again, that is who he will be. Your Soldier will have gone. Somehow you know that and you weep for him.
All he had ever wanted was you to love him. Did he know that? Because you did, and you still do love him. You always will.
- 96
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A Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Fic - The Constant