Pain Relief
The second Bucky turned his back on his soulmate, he regretted it. The act of turning away tore him apart more than anything HYDRA could have ever done to him. Rejecting the other half of his soul took all of the strength he could muster, but he knew it was for the best. By rejecting her, he was saving her.
Bucky knew he was dangerous. He was one word sequence away from unraveling and until he could find a way to wipe his mind of the programming, he was a hazard to be around.
That's how he found himself nursing his sorrows alone in his apartment, clinging on to the Asgardian mead bottle in his hands as if it were the only tether he had to reality. He sat on the battered wood floors, his own anguish heavy in the air around him. Wreaking of pain. He tried to come to terms with his choices, to live the rest of his life forlorn and disconsolate. But all he felt, even through the mead, was a fire burning in his chest. Incinerating his resolve, pledging to only be extinguished by Violet’s gentle grip.
He heaved the flask to his lips, gulping the amber fire in an attempt to soothe the ache in his core. His body was weak, eyes weary. He’d been fighting off sleep for days -maybe weeks- evading the dreams of his victims and his soul’s past life that taunted him with what he could never have. Knowing Violet’s soul lived in Annie’s body nearly drove Bucky to insanity. The feelings he had for her were primal, instinctive, and yet he couldn’t help but feel like in the single moment she held his hand, he had fallen in love.
“Love,” he thought bitterly. For Bucky, love felt like a fool’s errand. A hopeless ideal that someone like him didn’t deserve. “Villains don’t get to fall in love”
And so, that's how he spent the past three days. In a melancholy stupor, the strong liquor in his veins blurring the world around him. At one point, though he couldn’t pinpoint when, Steve had called, Bucky just let it ring. He just hoped Steve would leave him be, assuming he was wrapped up in his research into Violet or the fix for his trigger words, but alas. Steve never let anything go, especially not when it came to Bucky.
When Steve and Sam came to check on him after many evaded calls, they found him on his bare mattress, sheets strewn across the room. Thick black sweatpants were the only coverings he whore. His face bore the stains from the tears that seemed to never stop flowing.
“Christ Buck, what the hell happened?” Steve’s heart clenched, seeing his best friend in such a state.
It was raining when Violet finally made her way to May’s apartment, her drunk mind having difficulty navigating the wet, busy streets. Her normally poofy, curly hair hung limply down her back, straightened by the storm. Her green eyes rubbed red from banishing tears, her clothes sticking flush to her skin.
When May Parker opened the door, she saw her foster-daughter’s face and she’d recognized the type of anguish on her face. She had been in that state herself when she lost Ben. May ushered her inside, wrapping a clean, fluffy towel around her shoulders to lessen the chill of the cold. Violet collapsed into May’s arms the moment they sat on her sofa, curling her body into her foster-mom’s. She just cried for the first hour, loud, broken sobs echoing off the walls, hitting May in the heart. She couldn't help but let a few empathetic tears slip from her eyes, she knew the pain, knew it very intimately.
When May’s soulmate, Benjamin Parker, died she’s known immediately. It was like something had sat on her chest, suffocating her in pain. She remembered the exact moment, she’d been washing the dishes after dinner. The plate that smashed on the floor broke her out of her stunned silence, and she immediately called Ben, praying to anyone deity who would listen that he would be okay. Had it not been for Peter, and later Violet, May wasn’t sure she would be in much of a different position than Violet was in now, drunk and weeping. That’s how she knew what happened with Vi, only a soulmate can cause that amount of pain.
Finally, Violet felt cried out, and was able to give May a shallow and shambled description of what transpired at the subway stop entrance. Recounting the feelings she had before he’d said the five words that shattered her heart tore open the still fresh wound in her gut.
“ I’m sorry kid, but no?! ” May asked incredulously, her small frame shaking in anger on her daughter’s behalf, “What kind of absolute horseshit excuse is that?! That Barnes guy better hope I don’t find him, or he’ll be sorry!”
Violet laughed for the first time since she’d met Bucky, it was airy and weak, but a laugh nonetheless.
“May,” she started softly, treading her words lightly as to not cry again, “He’s Bucky Barnes , ya know? Winter Soldier? Ex-Assassin extraordinaire? As much as I’d love to see you lay into him, I wouldn’t want to risk him…” she released a shaky sigh, “It would be all too much.”
The older brunette softened her gaze, rubbing her palms up and down Violet’s arms. “Wait, isn’t that they ‘metal-arm guy’ Peter mentioned from his internship?”
A lump clogged Violet’s throat. She nodded dumbly.
“Perfect! Just have Pete talk to him for you! Maybe then he could talk some sense into him, figure out why he would give up the best thing to ever happen to him.” She squeezed the ginger as she said that, hoping to provide even an ounce of maternal comfort.
“ No ! No… I don’t want Peter to know. He’ll worry too much and I don’t want him in trouble with um… Mr. Stark ya know? I’ll tell him when there is something to say.”
May’s eyes met Violet’s, her gaze sad but understanding. They both knew how protective Peter could be, and Vi didn't want to risk his place with Tony Stark. There was an unspoken understanding that both women knew his position was beyond just an intern, but neither had the courage to say it out loud, for fear it would make the danger he was in more real .
Taking in a rattling breath, Violet sat her sore body upright, her face and hair having left a wet splotch on May’s ivory linen pants. Her lungs burned from her tears, eyes rubbed raw. In a soft voice, as she dropped her eyes to her lap, she asked “May… what do I do without him? I spoke one word to him, and already I love him .”
Sam and Steve had spent nearly three hours cleaning Bucky and his apartment, fixing the wreckage that was left by Violet. Sam still didn’t know the brunet man very well, but he felt for him all the same. A friend of his had lost his mate while overseas and he fell into a depression that ultimately led to his demise. He was all too aware of the damage losing a mate could have, and so he helped in the small ways he could.
Meanwhile, Steve had pulled Bucky into the kitchenette, attempting to knock some sense into his best friend, trying to express how selfish Bucky was being. Unbeknownst to Bucky, Stave had called Natasha, the most talented spy he knew, to find out what she could about his friend’s rejected mate. Once Natasha had told Steve of her kind nature and the state she was in, he wanted to yell. Yell at Bucky for being an asshole, for so selfishly shattering this young girl’s heart, her soul . Granted, he understood why Bucky was being hesitant, careful of his effect on her life, but at this point he was being a coward. Refusing to take a chance to better his life, her life , all because he was scared.
“You don’t get it Steve, I could hurt her, or worse- kill her. I could ruin her. She doesn’t deserve someone like me. Doesn’t want someone like me .” His voice was thick with self pity, and he knew it too.
“Oh shut the fuck up, Buck!” Steve bursted out at his friend. The other men in the room were surprised at the sudden outburst and the vulgarity. “Barnes. Stop it. You aren’t afraid of hurting her, you aren’t afraid of her not wanting you. You’re afraid to finally let someone in. You want to hide yourself in your pain, and that doesn’t work,” Steve lectured, exasperated, “You aren’t alone in the world. Stop acting like it.”
Bucky stood in silence for a moment, processing all of Steve’s words. His body shook, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or pain. The blond slowly wrapped his arms around his friend’s body, soothing the sobs that shook the roof.
“I fucked up Steve, I really did. I ruined it, didn’t I?” Bucky’s voice was smaller than Steve had ever heard it before, anguish lacing his voice.
“I honestly don’t know Buck, but it is worth trying.”
And thus Bucky Barnes’ carefully constructed steel wall of protection began to disintegrate, keeping in time with his already crumbling resolve
After a total of fifteen days, eight hours and twenty-nine minutes, Violet had successfully gone to sleep without the aid of alcohol or a stream of tears. While she was only able to coax two hours of restless slumber from her body, she was still proud at the accomplishment. The longer she was away from thoughts about him , the clearer headed she felt.
“ I don’t love him,” she thought to herself critically one day, after she agonized over her History of Enhanced Beings course literature, “All I feel for him is merely hormones, or some archaic connection, an involuntary response. I can be without him. Easy. May is alone, and she is fine.” Her internal monologue snatched her attention away from her coursework. She did pity Annie and Thomas though, the former bodies of the estranged mate’s souls. The ancient Scottish couple probably relished in the thought that their souls would meet again. “Though, I doubt Annie would be much pleased by her soulmate rejecting her, condemning her to wandering,” she thought, trying to force the anger from her mind.
She was sitting on her floor, work spread around her in a semicircle on the coffee table and floor. Desperately, she tried to coax her brain into thinking about more than icy blue eyes and messy brown hair, a body and mind that housed over one hundred years of life. Her phone buzzed to life: Peter. He called more often now, knowing something was wrong but not wanting to press Violet for any information she didn’t want to offer freely. He knew that after all she went through with being given to Coventry so young, so abruptly, she had learned self-preservation through years and years of practice.
The first time Violet opened up to the Parker family about her past, it was a generic summer day by all appearances. Peter meandered around the small Queens apartment shirtless, Violet in cutoffs and a flimsy tank top, May had a flowy sundress. The trio focused on fighting the sweltering New York heatwave without AC. It had gone out again but maintenance seemed to be dragging their feet to fix it.
“This reminds me of the summer we were all in the basement, coding,” Violet started, breaking the silence. A rare occurrence for the still very traumatized girl. “It was sweltering hot and Madam Theresa wanted us to code better, faster , but we were ten so we could only do so much. That was the day she broke Bonnie’s fingers for mistyping some code. She wasn’t as proficient in binary as some of us were,” The fire-headed girl mused, as if she was talking about something as mundane as the weather, not abuse.
The Parkers sat in silence for a few long moments, digesting the first sliver of information about Violet’s past that she'd ever given them. Peter was the first to speak, still so young, age fifteen. He was only seven months younger than his new sister, but she seemed to him as if she were eons away in life experiences.
“Wait Vi… did you ever have your fingers broken?” He asked plainly, not knowing how to handle such information.
“Peter!” May seethed, stage yelling at him from their small kitchen.
Unbothered, she answered. Her voice was light, light laughs devoid of mirth. “No Peter, but I did have my right shoulder dislocated. That was for mixing up the date Napoleon took power. And my left foot met the butt of Madam Karie’s cane all too many times, mostly for slow answers or backtalk.” She spoke so freely, stunning both May and Peter, as she’d been so reserved before. “I’m surprised I don’t have a permanent circular indent in my left foot.” She chuckled at her comment to herself, unaware of how distressing her childhood sounded to the ears around her.
Violet never shared much about her life before the Parkers, before New York, but when she did it was never pleasant, so they learned not to ask.
Violet answered her brother’s call. He was “just checking in,” as usual. He was blissfully unaware of the heartbreak she’d been enduring the past weeks. She thought herself silly, for a moment, being so worked up over a boy . A man she’d met once for all of thirty seconds.
Ridiculous.
She was abruptly ripped from her quiet thoughts by a loud and clear knock on her front door. It seemed to cause the windows to dance in their panes, pleading for safe stillness again. She ended the call with Peter, slowly stalking up to the door to answer it. She cursed herself for not having a peephole. With a quick release of breath, she swung open her old door. She was met with a blue gaze that carried the same sadness as her eyes did, features sunken in with exhaustion.
Bucky Barnes.
Her soulmate.
Bucky had run the speech over and over in his head, apologies locked cleanly under his belt, set on making amends.
“Maybe Steve’s right,” he thought to himself on the subway ride from Brooklyn to Queens, “Maybe I do deserve happiness? Or at least she deserves to be loved, even If I don’t. She deserves to understand.”
Sam had forced him to shower before he left, claiming he reeked of booze and depression, and honestly he did feel better after cleaning himself up. Back in the forties, before his life had gone beyond all expectations of possible, he spent as much time as his dates did getting ready. Always wanted to look his best. He hoped, deep down, the suave, charismatic ladies-man he was in his ‘past life’ would return to him again. Guide him on how to fix what should've been the easiest, most instinctual relationship either of could have.
When he arrived at the door he knew all too well from his “recon,” his temporary boost of confidence and resolve faltered. He didn’t know if he could handle her possible rejection. “ What a lousy hypocrite I am, ” he thought.
Before his mind could think better of it, his metal left hand raised and tapped on the door in front of him, sealing his fate.
The knock was louder than intended, but he couldn't care much because he heard her. She was so close , just behind a door. When the rickety slab of wood creaked open, the emotions that flooded his being nearly knocked him off his feet.
She stood in front of him, looking more beautiful than he’d ever thought possible. Briefly, his mind flickered back to the images of the Asgardians Steve had shown him, and he resolved she was more beautiful than them. Than anything.
She wore a white linen button down, and he tried to reel in his mind when he noticed the slight gap in the buttons near her breasts. She wore a loose pair of jeans and house slippers, her clunky glasses still fixed securely on her face. Her beautiful face. Her full figure, curvy and soft contrasted the hard, stiff wood door frame that encased her image.
The mates stared at one another for a long time, struggling with the right thing to say. He tried to secure his hope to his side while she attempted to hold any of the anger that escaped her fists like sand.
Bucky broke the silence first.
“Hi.”
He was cautious, nervous, and still immeasurably more happy now just being in the presence of his mate, he couldn’t be bothered by the awkward situation he was in.
She blinked at him. Once. Twice. She met his eyes.
Her gaze locked on his, but her’s was cold. Angry, for sure, but there was something more.
Betrayal .
“How dare you show your face here. Do you understand the hell I’ve been through? The agony you’ve caused me? You don’t even know me but somehow you’d already decided you didn't want me?!” Her volume increased, but Bucky still just savored her. There was a break in her speech, and she looked at him expectantly.
“No! Violet please. I’m so, so sorry. I was foolish. I am foolish. I am a selfish man who acted out of fear, but please allow me to explain.” He took a step closer to her, his apologies earnest. He forgot for a moment that while she knew who he was based on her studies- and his infamous reputation, she’d never technically been introduced to her. He shouldn’t know her name.
He watched her chew the decision in her mind, then spit out, “Fine. But you have five minutes. After that, you go.”
He hastily accepted. He was desperate just to be near her. It was overwhelming, the feelings he had. Unmatched by anything in human existence, he was sure of it. Although involuntary, the both of them struggled to cope with the ocean of emotions that threatened to drown them everyday.
And so, Bucky did what he worried he may never have the opportunity to do again: walk inside Violet Paterson’s home. Be welcomed by its familiar scent, jasmine and vanilla. Feast his eyes on the mountains of personality she packed into her space. But mostly, he’d never thought he would be able to be near his soulmate again.