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Hazy Shade of Winter - Bucky X-reader Pt. 13

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Authors note: This chapter contains a very brief suicide mention.
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“Bucky?”

“Nat, hi, we…may have a problem. [Name] was fitted with a tracker-”

“Damn it. Where?”

“On her thigh, under the skin.”

“Oh shit.”

“That’s what I said. It was pretty deep and she…well, she -”

“Bucky, what happened?”

“She, erm, dug it out. Blood was e…everywhere.”

“Whoa. Is she okay now?”

“She will be, I hope. Right now, I need to throw off our signal. Is there anything you can do?”

“Sure, I’ll give it a go. Do you have the tracker number?”

“Yep. Let me get it… Okay it’s AIM7983621.”

“All right. Give me one…second.”

The tip-tapping of Nat’s fingers hitting keyboard keys echoed down the line.

“Found you. Oh, hey, there’s a really great sushi place just round the corner from you.”

“Nat…” he groaned.

“I’m on it, Barnes, don’t worry.”

He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair, keeping one eye on the bedroom door where you were getting dressed into sweatpants and a University of Wakanda sweater that Bucky had found in a closet. His mind slipped back to 20 minutes ago.

He’d almost expected to find you dead in that shower - heaven knows the idea had crossed his own mind at times after the incident on the Potomac. As the memories of dozens of kills had flooded his conscience, he’d felt overwhelmed with guilt. Who would help him? Who would believe him? No one. He had felt like the loneliest person in the world. The idea of ending it all had assaulted him time and time again, but not for a long while. Certainly not since Steve showed up in his kitchen in Bucharest. He believed me, he helped me.

The silence that had fallen over the loft had tugged him back to those dark days however, and he would never have blamed you if you’d decided you couldn’t go on. The anguish, the push and pull of conflicting memories; life before everything changed, the torture, the words of anger and hatred thrown at you to grind you down, the feeling of worthlessness. Then the sight of a familiar face; your brother. Steve.

He was shocked by his own relief at finding you the way he did. There was a better way…there is always a better way. He didn’t know if he would’ve been able to forgive himself if you’d taken that final step, but you hadn’t and he was glad. He just wanted to help. He shook his head to force the darkness out of his head.

“Bucky!”

He scrambled the phone back up to his ear, “Sorry Nat…I drifted off.”

“Don’t worry about it. Look, I’ve attached the tracker code to a stolen vehicle on its way to Philly, so as long as Ross and his band of merry mercenaries haven’t been tracking you since you left Westbury, you should be okay.”

“Oh wow, thanks. I…I don’t know what else to say-”

“Just say you’ll help her get through this, and we’re even, okay Barnes?”

“I will do everything I can for her, I promise you that.”

“Good. Oh, and you can destroy the device now.”

He crushed the tiny tracker between his thumb and forefinger and continued, “How’s the brother?”

“He’s talking a little…so I guess that’s a start, right?”

“Better than closing down.”

“Very true. Speak soon Barnes, and good luck.”

“Thanks Nat, same to you.” He hung up the phone and threw it onto a small comfy chair in the hallway. He listened again, his ear straining in the direction of the bedroom.

You rolled the sweater down your bruised and scratched body, and sat down hard on the edge of the bed. The top of your leg throbbed mercilessly. Bucky had carefully cleaned the wound after helping you out of the shower with your body enveloped in a towel. He’d then wrapped a bandage around it, and kept an eye on it when tiny spots of blood soaked through the dressing. He really does care. You’d cried and cried as you’d watched him redress the wound, and now there were no tears left to fall. You weren’t numb - you could still feel the warmth of his embrace - but you weren’t sure what to do next. You needed to face these horrific things you’d done. They made me do it, I had no choice.

A light tap came from the other side of the door. “[name]?”

“Y…” You coughed and pressed your fingers against the base of your neck, “Y…yes?”

The door opened a crack. “May I come in?”

“Erm, all right.” You managed a weak smile as he pushed the door open and stood in the entry way, his hand gripping tightly to the door handle. You could tell he was fearful.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft and warm.

“Like the whole world is after my head,” you scoffed, dropping your gaze to stare at your hands, shaking in your lap. “I have so many things running round my mind.”

“I get it,” he nodded. He released the door handle and slowly moved to sit in a small chair opposite you, clasping his hands together when he was comfortable. “I’ve been in the exact same place you are right now. It’s…difficult to focus.”

 “It’s impossible.”

He swallowed. “Do…do you know me?”

You nodded once. “You’re the…sorry, you were the Winter Soldier. I’ve had your face imprinted on my brain for as long as I can remember.”

“They told you to kill me, didn’t they?”

You nodded again.

“You know, a part of me wonders if that was to prevent this exact moment happening.”

You pulled the non-bandaged leg up onto the bed and hugged the knee. “What do you mean?”

“They must’ve known that I would help you, if I could. Nobody has been through what you have, except me.” He pressed his index finger against his chest and looked at you with pity. “You can survive this, [name]. I did, so you can.”

“Please…” you whispered, tears suddenly obscuring your vision, “I am n…no one -”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, as he rose from his chair and sat down next to you. He cautiously took you into his arms and rocked you gently, as tears streaked down your face. “Your name is [full name], you have a brother called Andrew, and your parents are Peter and Jacqueline-”

“Don’t forget the dogs,” you laughed through your tears.

He smiled and held you a little closer, “No, don’t forget them. Cooper and…”

“Baxter.” Silence fell again. After a minute, you pulled back and looked at him…really looked at him. He had a bruise or two that you knew you’d caused earlier, though the exact details of a fight that left you both worn out were not forthcoming right now. His steel-blue eyes were hiding secrets so similar to your own, and you could tell he meant every word that he said. He wants to help me get better…maybe even move on. You rolled your lips, and slowly the words came out, “So what happens now?”

"Well, first of all, my name is Bucky Barnes, and it's nice to meet you."

You smiled properly for the first time in years. "It's nice to meet you too, Bucky Barnes."

“Are you up for talking things through for a while? I think it would really help.”

“Okay, let’s try.”

Xxx

T’Challa leaned against the white, oversized island in the kitchen of his Hamptons mansion. The swooshing of the ocean outside mingled with the rustling of the autumn leaves on the trees by the French doors. He blew a stream of air from his lips and over a steaming mug of English tea cupped in both hands, and listened.

Natasha stood by the kitchen table with her arms folded, looking down at the man with the piercing blue eyes, who averted his gaze anywhere that meant he didn’t have to look at her. She huffed and it made him nervous.

“Why were you chasing me in Rome, Andrew?”

“I needed to make sure you set the wheels in motion, and the best way to do that undetected was to have Ross send me after you..”

“Wheels in motion for what?

“I had to be there, to see you and know that you would contact Captain Rogers -”

Nat scowled and glanced over her shoulder at the king, who simply shrugged in a ‘I’m staying out of this’ kind of way and took a sip of tea. “Why?”

Andrew sighed and lifted his gaze to her. “I knew that wherever Rogers was, Barnes was likely to be…and I knew he was the key to helping me find my sister -”

“Wait, wait, wait,” T’Challa piped up, planting his mug down on the island and stepping forward to stand beside Nat, “So you already knew who…who your sister was?”

Andrew nodded solemnly, “I’ve known for a while now. I just couldn’t get to her and -”

“So you waited,” Nat pushed in, the machinations of her mind working at double speed. “Winter’s not over yet…” she looked at the man, clearly exhausted from all his meticulous planning, “Prepare yourself.”

“I beg your pardon, Ms Romanoff?” the king asked, confused.

“Fury didn't send me that message...you sent it, didn’t you Andrew?”

He nodded once more, “I’m sorry about that, I really am. But like I said, I needed you to be involved from the very beginning. I’d read all about Barnes in the papers, and [name] was being led down the exact same path…I just knew it.”

Nat couldn’t blame him, not even a little bit. Here was a man left devastated by his younger sister’s disappearance, desperate, and completely out of options. “I think I would’ve done the same, if I’m honest. But how did you even find out who she was?”

“I saw her, with my own eyes…at a…” he dropped his head into his hands and released a sorrowful gasp of air. “She was at one of those military trade shows, of all places...in Vegas!?!” He scoffed and looked between the two people standing over him, “Can you believe that?”

“When?”

“About 4 years ago. Just before that Aldrich Kilian guy went ape-shit on Tony Stark, he was there with A.I.M. showing her off to prospective clients…touting her around like some kind of lethal prostitute. They even told people she had volunteered!” He practically leapt out of his chair and began pacing, “I mean, can you believe the cheek of them?? She is a human being, and they were treating her like the Terminator or something…and here I was, thinking my little sister had been dead for 6 years!”

“So what did you do?” T’Challa asked.

“I tried to catch her attention, as best I could whilst remembering I was a soldier there doing a job. I’d nearly given up until she turned away from Killian and locked eyes on me.” He flung his arms out to the sides and slapped them against his thighs, “There was nothing. It was as if her eyes tore right through me. She was an empty shell.”

Nat pulled the chair out in front of her and sat down. “Did you see anything specific…anything Killian did or said or…anything?

He looked to the ceiling, and planted his hands on his waist. “I remembered them giving her some kind of injection…I got close enough to the stand to hear Killian and some horrible woman talking to the vultures about vitamin shots.” He frowned and shook his head, the pain of reliving all this making him weary. “I don’t know…they lapped up the bullshit, whatever it was.”

T’Challa gave Nat a look, which Andrew picked up on. “It was drugs, wasn’t it? My sister is controlled by them, isn’t she?”

Nat nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh God!”

“But she’s coming off them now,” T’Challa added, “And Barnes is helping her, so I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

Andrew covered his face again and flopped back down onto his chair, “I just hope you’re right.”

xxx

Light was now pouring into the loft from the large sash windows and giving a pleasant warmth to every surface it touched. You’d settled yourself down in the corner of a couch, the good leg tucked under the painful one. Bucky had made you a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine hit would help with drug withdrawals, but the intermittent shaking in your hands left you unsure.

He brought himself a cup of coffee and waited for you to give him the all clear to sit at the opposite end of the couch. Finally, you began talking.

“What do you remember about yesterday?” he asked.

You embraced the warm cup with both hands and tipped your head to one side. “I remember the gun, mostly.”

“What about it, specifically?”

“The sound of the pieces being put together. I’ve no idea the number of times I’ve done it; practising or the r…real thing, but I can hear those clicking sounds in my ear, almost like a metronome.” You shook your head and laughed nervously, “Does that even make any sense?”

“It does. We work in rhythm, [name]. Timings, movements, sightlines, assembling weapons, mission complete…Rhythm soothes the mind.”

“I suppose that m…makes a lot of sense, then.”

He offered a reassuring smile and continued, “What else can you remember?” His voice was deep yet calming.

“I…I can’t think of anything.”

He shifted in his seat so his body was facing you, his right leg up on the cushion, “Try closing your eyes, and taking a deep breath. Block out all thoughts and all sounds around you, except for my voice.”

You did as you were asked, and gave a short nod.

“Now…what else can you remember?”

You allowed silence to fill the room for 30 seconds before you spoke. “I remember the wind. It whistled quite nicely at the first location, soft and…almost melodic.”

“And how did it sound at the second?”

You shrank down into yourself, as the change in sounds replayed in your head. “Hard, and sharp. It felt like it might pierce my ears, but…but I had a job to do.”

“All right. What were your orders?”

Your throat suddenly felt thick, like it was trying to suffocate you. Your heart began pounding, and the sound must’ve been loud, because Bucky reached out with his metal hand and touched your arm gently, his face warm and friendly.

“Take your time, [name], we’re in no rush.”

There's a lot of healing and soul-searching to be done, but the drama continues uninhibited. We're learning more from Reader's brother, and let's hope that tracker is done with. I adore your feedback, no matter how big or small, please let me know what you think.

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xoxo
© 2016 - 2024 the-other-sam
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Kat-Talbot's avatar
Once again great job! Clap 
I quietly cried on Buck's scene with her. I'm in love with Bucky. /lol
Can't wait to see more.