Chapter Text
Bucky sat on the couch and waited. He’d been waiting 23 minutes already for his weekly therapy session to begin. The doctor had never been this late before. Maybe she quit like the last one did. They all did eventually when he refused to really talk about his “problems”. This one had lasted the longest, though.
He took stock of all the furniture in the room again; the couch he was sitting on, the chair opposite that always looked much more comfortable, the blinds that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was no table, no bookcases, nothing that overtly looked deadly, but Bucky had already thought about how, if he was pushed or if the Soldier had to, he would kill whatever therapist sat opposite him if required. Breaking off a foot from the couch and shoving into the back of their throat or ripping the chain from the blinds and strangling them. These were all just in case. If for some reason, he couldn’t use hands to do that, though. He’s sure if pressed, he could rip down a ceiling tile and find some electrics…
The doctor walked in and sat down in her chair, settling in for what Bucky hoped would be a quick session. You had locked yourself in your room since the incident at Coney Island. You were refusing to come out, and he didn’t enjoy leaving you alone. Also, he was almost certain that Fury was still trying to take you away and would use this opportunity to kidnap you away from him. He’d kill Fury if-
“James,” her voice cut into his thoughts. “James, are you with me?”
“Yeah, Doc, I’m…” he waved his hand, “present.”
“You’ve had quite a busy week since we last spoke.”
Bucky pursed his lips and sniffed. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Really?” She started taking notes in the book on her lap. “Is that what you would call your victim running away from you? Nothing?”
His fist clenched. The urge to shove the pen loosely hanging from her grip into her neck made his gut churn. The Soldier wanted to snap, seethe, and rage against this weak woman who would say such things about you. It took all of Bucky’s concentration to reign him in, to keep this session moving forward. He focused on you, waiting for him. Maybe you had finally started reading the copy of The Hobbit he had in the room.
“Sunny is not my victim.”
“Then what is she, to you, James?”
“She-”
He cut himself off. He wasn’t sure what you were in a modern sense. The Soldier knew you belonged to him, to them, that you were theirs and theirs alone. No one could make them part from you now that they have you. He’d heard Stark refer to you as his pet, which he hated. You were not a dog, or any kind of animal, for that matter. Steve used the word partner a lot like that had some kind of deeper meaning.
“She’s my partner.”
That felt like settling for something less, but that seemed to make the doctor somewhat happy.
“But she was your victim, wasn’t she, James?”
He knew these sessions were all recorded and stored on the SHIELD database. They were supposed to just be stored, but Bucky was damn sure that Fury and probably Hill as well listened to them, trying to learn everything they can about Hydra and his programming. He hoped it gave them both stomach aches and made their skin crawl. Retelling all the horrible things he’d done and seen was one of the reasons so many of his therapists had quit. They couldn’t take the gory details of his life any longer.
You were off-limits. Even before you had been reunited, Bucky never spoke of you or your relationship. You were his and his alone. No one had any right to you or your story.
“You really wanna know about Sunny, doc?” He asked.
“Yes, James.”
*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.**.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*
The Asset had done well. That’s what the handler had told him after he had returned from his last mission. The targets were easy to dispatch, a small family. They didn’t even get a chance to cry. They lead him away from the freezing chamber though, instead taking him to the scientists. He supposed he needed to be seen by them. Either way, it wasn’t his place to question. He followed his handler and the small unit of men down the dark hallway into a large laboratory.
There were five cages of women.
They lined the far wall of the laboratory, all of them huddled and shaking in the corner. He could hear their panicked heart rate. The unit stared at them, spoke to them if they were brave enough. The Asset followed the orders given to him- strip, get on the table, don’t move. The metal table was cold, but he was told not to move, so he didn’t flinch. If he could stop the beating of his heart, he would have.
One of the scientists opened his metal arm. He stopped breathing as they started to cut wires, a torch set to the open machinery. The limited control he had over the arm loosened, the feeling in his fingertips disappearing. The plates shifted over his upper arm before collapsing. The scientist had disconnected, making the titanium appendage a dead weight.
His handler nodded, and another scientist set a jet injector over his flesh arm. Heat shot through his limb and into his stomach. Still, he didn’t move. He followed orders. The Asset’s sights blurred and blood rushed in his ears. He couldn’t control his breathing, heavy pants forcing their way past his sealed lips as sweat formed on his brow. For a moment, a voice in his head begged to know what they had done to him, what had they put in his body.
“The Asset is ready, sir.”
The handler ordered him to stand. The Asset ignored the voice in his head demanding answers. The weapon at his side hung limp, an extra weight that only made him recalculate his balance. He didn’t stumble and his handler nodded at that.
The Asset was led to the front of the cages.
“Pick a reward,” the handler said.
It was a simple choice. He picked the first one to cry. She was small, older. They locked him in the cage with her and waited. He did as he was told.
Breed.
They watched him, took notes, and spoke over the screaming of the woman. Though she didn’t scream for long. Every part of his body felt like it was on fire like he was going to burst into flames. It made him angry; it clouded his judgment and silenced the voice.
They misdosed the stimulant they gave him. The reward bled out before he finished. A wasted experiment, a failure in the eyes of his handler and Hydra. They beat him with batons before he was put under again.
*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.**.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*
“Was Sunny in that group? Did she see what you were capable of?”
“No,” Bucky answered, rolling his tongue over his front teeth.
He felt his stomach churning, the taste of tears and bile on his lips. The last thing he wanted was for you to know about the others. Those women didn’t matter, they couldn’t matter to him. Bucky had enough skeletons in his closet. He didn’t want you to know about them because if you knew what he had done, saw another stain on his soul that could never be washed away, maybe you would finally be afraid of them and run.
“How many were there before, Sunny?”
A lump formed in his throat, slimy and scratchy and something he couldn’t dislodge. He looked away, out the window and onto the grounds of the compound. Recruiters were training with Natasha and Sam and not doing well if their shouting and disapproving looks were anything to go by.
“12.”
“So you just killed 12 innocent women under some sort of drug-fueled haze.” She stated it so matter-of-factly as if Bucky had wanted to hurt those people.
“It was an accident. They weren’t supposed to die.”
“No, of course not, James, you and those women were just supposed to breed a new race of enhanced soldiers.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he shouted, shooting forward and baring his teeth at the doctor. She made a note of that.
“What made Sunny different?”
“She asked me.”
*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.**.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*
The Asset returned to the Hydra base with speed; the package secured. He was bruised and battered, his metal arm hanging from his body by wires. The enemy had some sort of asset of their own. A man who was nearly as strong as he was, capable of nearly derailing the entire mission. The scientists would be upset with him and would punish him for breaking their machine.
His handler would be happy. This new one was younger than the last, eager to prove he was the one in charge. He didn’t go on missions. The Asset hoped whatever he was tasked with getting for them was enough to save his broken body from his wrath. This base was different. Each time they unfroze him, he was somewhere new, which meant new maps to learn, unfamiliar terrain to study, new weapons to master.
He marched into base alone. The rest of the small team sent with him hadn’t survived. Immediately, he was surrounded. The Handler was radioed and arrived swiftly to collect the package. He took it under his arm, eyeing the way the metal arm hung from The Asset’s body. He waited for orders; to follow, to go, to get down into the mud and crawl. Whatever this handler wanted, The Asset would do it.
“It seems you are finally deserving of a reward.”
This was a routine he knew. Inside the base, they removed his arm, a weight taken off his body that confused his exhausted and battered mind, but he never faltered. There was screeching at the other end of the laboratory, high-pitched and feminine. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed around the concrete walls.
The scientists injected him with again something new, syringes filled with viscous liquids that burn in his blood and made his head foggy. Before he was even out of the chair, sweat poured from his brow and every breath was labored. They pushed him towards the cages. The women cried, they always cried. It seemed the scientists never experimented on them, or if they did, it was never like what The Asset was given.
He was ready to choose a woman, soft and short, who was pleading with her god to make the terror end when a voice called out. From the far end of the line cages, your fingers wrapped around the metal bars, your face pressed between them.
“Choose me, please? They-” you choked, a sob wrenched from your chest, “just let them go.”
The Asset moved to stand before you, his pale skin flushed and eyes blown wide. He knew you didn’t know what would actually become of those women. You thought you were saving them, but Hydra would never let them see the light of day. Soldiers dragged away the other women while the door to your cell opened. Despite your shaking, you stood waiting for… something.
“Begin.”
The order was simple. He clawed and ripped at your tattered clothes until you were as naked as he was. Still, you were shaking, panting, but not like he was, your heart rate frantic. But then you did something that no one had done to The Asset, you whispered to him, sweet voice loud enough only for him, hypnotizing him.
“Please lay down and I will service you.”
You stuttered every word, but you refused to look away from him. You looked at The Asset and you were not afraid.
*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.**.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*
Agitated wasn’t the right way to describe how Bucky felt leaving his session this week. A swarm of words came to mind about how he felt, but none of them truly described the monster coiling and squeezing his insides together. It was never this bad, never this sickening to be returning to the safety of your embrace. Normally, his favourite part of these mandated appointments was coming home to you.
You were curled up by the window watching Thor and Steve train, studying them over the steaming mug in your hand. Bucky pulled the drink from your fingers, his metal hand brushing across your cheek to gain your full concentration, to bring you back to the apartment.
“солнышко моё, are you happy here?”
“Of course, why would I sit here if I wasn’t?” A small smile, one that was half meaningful and not steady, crossed your lips. “Why does my happiness concern you today?”
“Your happiness is our concern every day, all the time, never doubt that,” Bucky rushed the words out, his tone harsher than intended. “Are you happy here, with this life… with us?”
“I am happiest when I am in your arms, моя луна. Even on the darkest nights, you guide me. When I thought my light was fading and being swallowed up by our pasts, you were steadfast. Even now when I threaten to burn down your new life, you hold me.”
“This is our new life, ours, together.”
“Always.”