Chapter 6
The Asset flinches when Steve reaches out to pat him on the shoulder.
He was distracted by the memories and half-formed thoughts.
Natasha—she’s too much like his commander. She’s the only one in the Avengers who reminds him of a semblance of safety. She calls him sweetheart, touches his hand, gives him direct orders and rewards. It’s a familiarity that makes him feel warm again, until Steve’s voice pulls him back to the present.
“It’s okay, Buck. Doctor said you can have a little solid food now,” Steve says gently.
He doesn’t want to eat. He’s afraid he might throw up during another punishment.
“The necklace is like a worry stone." Natasha explains to Steve softly, "It helps with his anxiety.”
“His anxiety…” Steve repeats, a frown forming on his face.
“How’s the trial preparation going?” Natasha asks, trying to change the subject.
“No, he’s…” Steve’s voice takes on a harder edge, making the Asset shiver. “He’s not in any condition to stand trial now. He needs rest and recovery. I can’t put him through that. Not now.”
Steve always seems to find a way to make him feel small and humiliated. He always says he’s not in good condition—not for missions, not for trials, not for anything. The Asset’s gaze drifts to Steve’s neck again, calculating the three seconds it would take to drive a kitchen knife into his throat. He’s capable of missions and he’s perfectly capable of standing trial.
“And he’s innocent,” Steve says, lowering his head. “He doesn’t need a trial to prove that. I won’t let anyone put him behind bars again.”
He's not like you. You're different, and maybe Steve can't understand that. It's not your fault. He's not capable of seeing you for who you really are. You deserve someone who sees your worth, who appreciates you for everything you are, not just what they need you to be.
The Asset finds himself looking into Steve’s eyes again. Most of the time, he avoids eye contact with handlers because it’s not allowed. But with Steve, it’s different. Those baby blues make him feel like he’s somewhere else, someone else. He thinks about Pierce again.
Who's really been there for you? Who's given you purpose and a new life? It's not Steve Rogers, it's HYDRA, it's me.
“Woo… great role model for the kids, Captain,” Clint quips, grabbing a beer from the counter and giving a lazy salute.
“Captain America can resign,” Steve replies lightly, though his face turns serious again.
“That’s definitely treason,” Natasha murmurs, shrugging, and Clint chuckles at the comment.
You've always had these feelings for Steve Rogers, haven't you?
The Asset tunes out their conversation. Over the years, he’d learned it was better to pretend not to hear them. It kept him from anxiously anticipating their next move.
Maybe that's why Steve left you. Maybe Steve sees something in you that's... disgusting to him. Can you blame him? It's not easy being around someone who's...like that.
A knock at the door snaps him back to reality.
“It’s not locked,” Steve calls out.
When Sam enters, he looks more stressed than usual. The Asset’s muscles tense as Sam scans the room, his gaze lingering on him.
“Sam?” Steve tilts his head in concern.
Sam sighs, turning back to Steve. “Steve, I’m sorry. I just got a message from Fury.”
“What happened?” Steve’s frown deepens.
Sam hesitates, glancing briefly at the Asset.
“Rumlow got away.”
Panic rises.
“Fury’s got the word out. NYPD has every unit on high alert,”
Commander.
“It can’t be more than a few hours. We’re gonna get him back, Steve…”
Commander left him.
...an inside job….helped him escape….. tighten security….come after him…not safe for him….
He can't hear them again, his breathing becoming shallow and erratic. He clenches his fists, rubbing the necklace Natasha had given him, seeking some semblance of calm.
He has no one. Nothing.
Steve was there when Russians captured you. He let it happen. He could have stopped them, but he didn’t.
Once again.
He remembers the train. He was falling from the train, and the fall seemed endless, never hitting the ground, just falling and falling.
It’s like he never left the train.
He was cold. There was so much snow.
There was a time when it snowed like that in Brooklyn. He remembered shoveling the snow off his front door, sore and exhausted, only for more snow to fall. It went on and on and on…
Wow. He remembers Brooklyn.
Would Steve be happy if he finds out?
“Buc…”
Oh, not authorized to touch you, huh? Why don’t you go cry to the secretary? Who do you think he’s gonna trust? A lying whore or me?
If he had never been taken by Hydra, maybe Steve wouldn’t hate him so much. If he was good enough, maybe someone would want to stay in his life.
Maybe.
Maybe.
“Bucky, please…”
He can only hear the sound of his own ragged breathing.
Even his commander left him.
“Bucky, please breathe.”
Suddenly, he feels someone grab his wrist.
Sam Wilson. Sam is holding him down.
Where is his commander?
He throws Sam off him, panic and fear mingling with the confusion.
“Bucky, stop…”
Survival instinct kicks in.
He drops to all fours, stumbling in front of Steve, desperation on his face.
Everyone else doesn’t matter.
If he pleases his handler, then he’ll survive this.
“You don’t have to do this.”
His mind is too far gone. His throat is dry. He doesn’t have enough saliva in his mouth.
“You don’t have to do this, Steve. I can make it good for you.” He is kneeling before Steve, his right hand resting on Steve’s sneaker.
He shouldn’t touch his handler without permission. No. Wrong. He knew it was wrong.
“Just for you. Steve.”
Everyone is watching him. He hears Sam rise to his feet, but they don't matter.
“Steve, please.”
His hand remains on Steve’s sneaker. He should remove it, but he couldn’t think straight.
“I know you don’t like me. But you can pretend it’s someone else!” His voice wavers with emotion.
He glanced up slightly. Steve isn't even hard.
This isn’t working.
He can't mess this up. This is his only chance.
“You don’t even have to touch me.”
“Bucky…” Natasha’s voice cut through the haze, but he can’t process it.
It doesn't matter because it isn't Steve’s voice.
Still holding out, are we? Let's see how long that lasts...
The electric current crackled. The prod made contact with his skin, and he couldn't suppress the scream that tore from his throat. The pain was white-hot and blinding.
I’m going to teach you the right way to behave.
Someone unlocked his restraints and dragged him to the floor. He still remembers his knees hit the cold concrete, his body weak and trembling. They kicked him in the ribs, and he doubled over in pain, gasping for breath.
I said be creative. Beg some more. Is that the best you can do?
His commander stood in the corner of the room, watching him. Commander rarely intervened personally unless the situation was dire. He must have messed up badly that time.
That's more like it. Now, kiss my boots.
He felt a harsh pat on his cheek, but he couldn't spare attention to identify who it was; all his focus was on his commander.
Good boy. Now that's how you show respect.
He looks up at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction. He isn't supposed to make eye contact, but how is he supposed to know what Steve wants if he can't look at him?
Remember this moment, Asset. Remember what it feels like. Because you'll be doing a lot more of it...
Steve seems… appalled?
“I can make you feel so good just using my mouth.” He breathes heavily, licking his lips.
He shouldn’t resign as Captain America. He should resign as his handler.
Bucky glances back at Clint. Something comes to his mind.
“You know Murphy, right?”
Clint is uncharacteristically silent. They had to know Murphy. Clint and Natasha were in Strike Delta, and Steve was in Strike Alpha. They must have worked with Murphy.
“Buck, listen to me—” Natasha begins, but the Asset cut her off.
“He never liked me.” he continues, eyes fixed on Steve, “but he always said I…”
He swallows hard.
Let’s help you loosen it up a bit huh…
“he always said I had the best cocksucking mouth he’d ever had.”
Steve suddenly takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with horror.
Murphy liked to use his mouth. Trained him to do it. At first, he wasn’t good at it. Once, he pulled back too early, and Murphy shoved a stun baton up his ass. He remembers the pain and there was so much blood. Then Murphy forced it down his throat. He'd rather choke on Murphy’s dick than pull back early again.
This is almost as good as fucking an ass….
He coughed blood later that day when the commander found out. The commander must have spoken to Murphy because Murphy never hurt him after that.
“Please don’t. Don’t let them hurt me.” He moves his hand up to Steve’s thigh, looking up at him from under his lashes.
“Okay, let’s huh…” Natasha seems to realize something and gently pushes Clint and Sam towards the door. “Let’s give them some privacy.”
“Bucky.” Steve’s voice finally breaks through, trembling and filled with anguish. “I will never hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you again. Not Hydra, not anyone.”
Now Steve is crying, his tears fall freely now. He struggles to process the sight.
He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never seen a handler actually cry in front of him before. This isn’t like anything he remembers.
Natasha squeezes Steve’s shoulder before leaving. The door clicks shut, leaving him and Steve alone in the room.
Why is this happening?
“I will never let something like that happen to you again. I swear.” Steve continues, his tears staining his sleeve.
He listens silently. He doesn’t know why seeing Steve like this makes his heart ache.
“I don’t know what I can say to make you trust me again. I don’t know if I deserve that again.” Steve’s breath hitches, “I wish I could take away all the pain you’ve felt. If you want to, if it helps, you can stab me right now and I won’t fight back, Buck. I won’t even flinch.”
“I love you.” Steve chokes out.
He is torn. Those sweet words coming out of Steve’s mouth—they were everything he had once longed to hear.
Steve wasn't there to rescue you, Bucky. He was off with his new team, his new friends...
“I won’t make you relive any more pain than you’ve already endured. Your safety, your happiness—that’s what matters most to me.”
Steve’s voice. Steve’s eyes. Steve’s hands. The unchanging worry on his face. His Steve—the little guy from Brooklyn who would wade through fire to save him. He did trust him.
And even after all those years, he chose to play hero with the Avengers. We've been there for you when Steve wasn't. You deserve better than being manipulated by a man who claims to be your friend but never shows it when it counts...
“I want to tear apart every Hydra scum who ever laid a hand on you,” Steve clenches his teeth. “But if you don’t want me to do that, then I won’t. I trust you. I’d do anything for you.”
At some point in the past seventy years, he no longer wanted Steve to save him.
You're a weapon, Asset. A weapon that can strike fear into our enemies.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness, Bucky. But please, let me be here for you. Let me show you that you don't have to face this alone anymore. I love you, Bucky. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”
How is he supposed to trust him? Put himself in that position again? Be that vulnerable again?
You deserve more than pining after a man who could never understand you, who could never accept you for who you are.
“Whatever you decide, Buck. I’d leave the Avengers right now. We can go west. We can go to Europe—Greece, Romania, anywhere you want. You don’t have to see anyone you don’t want to again. Wherever you want to go, I’d go with you.”
Every once in a while he remembers something he did. Or something that was done to him. By the war, by Hydra, by Pierce. And it seems like it happened to another person centuries ago. He wasn’t sure if what he remembered was real.
“And if you don’t… if you don’t feel safe around me. Or if you don’t want me to be here, I can…”
Steve pauses, his breath catching as if it physically hurts to talk.
“I can leave.”
Steve’s hands shakes at his sides. Bucky remains kneeling quietly on the floor, staring at him.
“You’re lying.”
He shakes his head, unable to find the words.
“You keep lying to me.” Bucky’s voice is hollow, his expression unreadable.
“I trusted you every time.”
Bucky lowers his head again, his gaze distant.
“I thought you were coming for me.”
His heart sinks. What was he doing? Crying in a bar with Peggy. Seeking solace from Peggy while Bucky was…
“Bucky…” he clenches his teeth, “I didn’t know. If I had known….If I had known…”
While Bucky was alive and waiting to be found.
“They laughed at me.”
Bucky’s voice trails off again.
Murphy, Rumlow, Strike Alpha… They not only tortured Bucky; they—
The same people who bought him whiskey after missions raped his Bucky.
How could he have failed so completely?
He remembers Rumlow sitting in a bar with him, silently listening to him talk about his best friend before the war, about how he'd lost him. Rumlow knew he went to Arlington every month. And Rumlow patted his back.
And he didn’t know. How could he have missed the signs? How could he not even realize…
“Now I see why.” Bucky huffs out a bitter laugh, a sound that cut through him like a knife.
Steve’s throat tightens. He thought about Bucky every day, mourning the friend he believed he had lost forever.
“Then I thought you were dead. It was on the newspapers. I remembered.”
Bucky looks at Steve again, his jaw clenched.
“But you’re not dead. You just lied to everybody, didn’t you.”
Bucky’s resentment is palpable, his eyes flashing with pain and anger.
“They're better than you. They never lied to me.”
“Bucky…” Steve’s voice cracks, “Who, Bucky?”
He just realized how deeply he had hurt Bucky.
“Are you…are you talking about Hydra?”
And Bucky thought he was going to hurt him.
Not Hydra, not Rumlow. Him.
“It was not my fault.” Bucky swallows and murmurs.
“Of course it’s not your fault, Bucky…” he breathes deeply, his voice wavers with sorrow.
Because it’s his fault. All of it. The Winter Soldier. Bucky’s suffering.
“I’m not Bucky. Your Bucky is dead.”
The weight of those words bears down on him like a crushing weight.
“I don’t want Bucky,” he confesses softly. “I want you. All of you.”
There was a long, painful silence between them.
“Are you gonna decommission me now?”