Fire in the Darkness
The clothes she had found fit him better than the ones he had pinched and were comfortable. He ran his hands over the fabric of the shirt, a black long sleeve. His legs were covered with a pair of gray sweatpants to sleep in, and clean, soft white socks. He wondered idly why she had men’s clothing in her apartment, a twinge of jealousy prodding at him. “...She had a right to live her life. She doesn’t even HAVE to help me.” He reasoned with himself.
Anwyn had smiled at him as she pushed past him to the bathroom, arms full of clothes. “More food on the table an’ in the fridge, help yourself ta anythin’ ya want. My turn ta wash, so no peekin’ or anythin’.” She teased with a wink.
Blushing and trying to ignore her, Bucky made his way to the table where a plate with a large slab of lasagna and a thick slice of garlic bread on it waited for him. She’d told him to help himself…Ravenously, he scarfed it down and chugged back the can of Coke she had left near the plate. “I guess she was right about the appetite…it’s only been a couple of hours and I feel like I haven’t eaten in weeks.” He mused idly as he helped himself to a few more things in the refrigerator. He was halfway through a pint of strawberries when she’d stepped out of the bathroom.
He froze again. She was barefoot, wearing sweats and a loose t-shirt, her long wet hair splayed over her shoulders. Her make-up had been rinsed away and she looked so young without it, so soft and beautiful. This was Nightingale, who struck fear into the hearts of Hydra operatives from the lowest grunt to superiors? “I was really married to this woman, in another life?” He felt heat flush though his body and looked back at his plate, away from her.
“Well! Scrubbed up, shaved an’ got ya fed. I daresay ya look a load better than ya did!” She said cheerfully, eyeing the empty plate and strawberries on her counter. “Are ya still hungry?” He managed a small, crooked smile “No. Not anymore. Thank you…for making me something to eat…I- I took a few things from the fridge. I hope that’s ok?” She gave a snort that would have impressed a horse. “You do NOT need ta ask me if you can eat Buck. You’re welcome ta anythin’ in this house, especially food. I can’t have a super soldier wastin’ away in my living room.”
Several hours passed with just the two of them, sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Anwyn was happy to fill him in on recent events and answer questions. He learned about his family, about the things he had enjoyed. His heart felt heavy that he couldn't remember his mother's face. He vaguely remembered being an over-achiever when he'd been younger. She told him about some of the times they'd shared in 1940s in war-torn Europe, some of which he remembered. Vividly.
As she chattered at him about various events and people, one memory in particular flooded back to him: When he'd flirted with Peggy Carter, trying to get a reaction out of Steve. He hadn't been serious; he'd been engaged to Anwyn by that point and was crazy about her. Some stupid part of him had thought if he could make Steve jealous, he'd finally make a move on Peggy. He hadn't realized his fiance had been standing a few feet behind him...The only one he'd gotten a reaction from that evening had been his best girl, and what a reaction it was.
She'd ignored him as they moved through the streets to the small studio she was staying in. His words and pleas had fallen on deaf ears, nor would she look at him. When he grabbed for her hands, she had shaken him off with such an icy look that he resigned to following her in silence. As soon as they'd entered the tiny flat, her coldness had become a raging inferno as she cursed at him in Welsh and English. Angry he'd flirted with someone else, angry he had made any sort of move towards the woman his best friend wanted...beyond angry that he had publicly embarrassed her.
She had demanded to know if she was adequate for him and his needs in a mate. The emphasis she had placed on the words "adequate" and "mate" had been like a punch to the face. Guilt had washed over him and he had been sorry he'd hurt her but not daunted by her outburst. She was more than a mate and far beyond adequate; to him...she was perfect.
He had always liked witty, fiery-tempered, passionate women and they didn't come much more passionate than his wild Welsh girl. She had calmed when he told her his rationale but remained annoyed for weeks. Ironically, that night had ended with them both in bed together for the first time, all passion, anger and love. Bucky felt his cheeks burning as that particular memory came back to him.
She told him more about Steve and the Avengers too. Of all his memories, the ones that involved Steve were among the most vivid. Some things sounded familiar, others not at all. She'd told him about her family, her friends. Of course, the Sentinels came up again. She'd never remarried after the project but admitted that her sister was alive and was one of the six who'd survived besides herself. "Somethin' about a specific gene that pre-disposed us both ta certain mutations an’ made us more…durable. All six of us that survived had this same gene."
Bucky was grateful Anwyn still had Eira; they had been very close. Best friends and sisters. He'd met her only once but had liked her; she had been friendly and warm. The two of them looked similar but he remembered Eira as being the polar opposite of Anwyn; quiet, sweet-tempered and calm. Shorter, with blue eyes and lighter hair. A laugh that tinkled like a little bell. A small thrill ran through him at remembering her…every memory he regained made him feel more human.
Bucky was still hung up on how Anwyn was still alive. He'd survived because he had been frozen, but the Sentinels had all been active for seven decades and were all at least a century old now. “We age about a month for each year that passes but not immortal by any means. I’m biologically only a few years older than I was in 1946 when the experiments were initiated. Something else to do with both genetics an’ how our bodies responded ta the mutations.”
Bucky nodded. “I don’t know how old I would be now…it was hard to keep track of time in the pod. I was only out for missions, never more than a few months at most.” He could tell by the look on her face that she was thinking of the first time he’d tracked her. “I’m sorry about…well, about them makin' me hunt you down. I didn’t know it was you. I-“ She cut him off. “You owe me no apologies Bucky. You were not yourself when that happened.”
Bucky hung his head sadly. “It was still me though, still me who did all of those things, My hands, my eyes that saw it all.” A soft hand patted the flesh of his right arm. “I know you are the one ta suffer with the memories…but James Buchanan Barnes did not kill those people. James Buchanan Barnes was not the one tryin’ to assassinate me. Hydra did those things, they only used your hands ta do it. An’ before they took your mind from you…you were a hero that stood up an’ told them ta stuff their sick ideologies up their arses.”
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He had pulled off the shirt to try to sleep, it felt too tight to be comfortable in a bed, But the sheets felt strange on his skin too, far too soft and too normal. He thrashed around in the dark, panic crushing the breath from his lungs and squeezing his heart. Bucky was in the strange state between sleep and consciousness, where dreams and nightmares meshed with reality. He felt the restraints of the chair on his arms again, the loud pulsing sound the machine made as it broke his mind and memories. “No, no, no, NO.” He didn’t want to forget Steve, or Anwyn or…he thrashed again and began to scream.
He was still screaming when she kicked the door in and swept the room with a 9 mil in one hand, fire flickering in her veins in the other. Her eyes and the veins under her skin were glowing a muted shade of copper with her increased body temperature. He’d been too far gone to even react to her kicking in the door. She’d dropped the gun to the floor and skirted around the edge of the room when she saw him hunched on the floor next to the bed, clutching his head. “Bucky? Hey, hey there… its alright.” She murmured softly. “I thought someone had found us…Bucky?”
“Nightmare.” He managed to croak, voice hoarse from screaming. “The chair, they were gonna put me back in the chair and take my mind away. My memories. Steve. You. Everything. Please don’t let ‘em put me back in the fuckin’ chair!” Anwyn could tell he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and she was next to him in an instant running her hands through his tangled hair. She found herself gently pressing her forehead to the top of his own. Every word she spoke was carefully and clearly enunciated. “Shhh, hush now. Nobody is goin’ ta do anythin' of the sort. I’m takin’ you ta a secure Sentinel base. They WON’T find you.”
Bucky felt himself tilted forward as she pulled him to her and pressed his face to her neck. The gentle touch was all it took to break the last of his fragile self-control. He wrapped his arms around her and sobbed into her wavy hair. They had broken him, and he only wanted the chance to remember who he was. He wanted to be more than their dagger in the dark, their killer. Feeling her hands in his hair, he remembered that she used to do this all the time, stroking his hair until he fell asleep.
Clinging to her tighter, barely comprehensible sentences in Russian and English spilled out of his mouth. Every fear and painful memory escaped him. He recounted murders he remembered, and the torture he’d endured. Uncertain if she understood half of what he said, he kept going anyway…letting the ugliness of those memories out lifted a weight off of him. He wasn’t sure how long she’d knelt on the floor, holding his head to her neck but he’d run out of tears by the time she pulled away gently and looked into his eyes.
He stared back, unable to look away. Those eyes, green like the sea and full of concern enraptured him. Her hair hung in her face and the moonlight drifting through the window illuminated her skin. Time had only just begun to write itself into her face after a century, with the faintest worry lines in her forehead and smile lines around her mouth. His heart fluttered and pounded; this woman was absolutely beautiful. The decades of being starved of human touch had left him desperate for it and he clung to her, hungry for the closeness of another person.
He reached to push a few errant strands from her face and froze, realizing what he had done. Realizing that he’d used his left hand. His metal hand….one he had tried to kill her with before. He began to pull it back when she reached up and clutched it. “You never need ta hide from me. But, back in bed with ya, you’re shivering.” She murmured. She stood and pulled him to his feet. “Stay. At least until I- I go back to sleep.” He choked out. “Please. Please just…don’t leave me alone in here….” She looked uncertain but nodded slowly. “Back under the covers, I need ta check the house an’ then I’ll be back.”
“Great.” Anwyn thought as she strode through each room, checking doors and windows. “I hope he doesn’t flip during the night, I really don’t wanna melt his arm off again or have my house wrecked tryin’ ta contain him.” A part of her was roiling in nervous excitement though. He had remembered things. Brutal things, but remembering anything was an improvement. He’d also asked her to stay…so maybe more of Bucky was left in there than she had dared to hope. The Winter Soldier would have never allowed himself to be as vulnerable as he just was.
Fingers skittering across the tablet she’d left on an end table, she activated the sound dampeners. Every wall, floor and window was soundproofed and bulletproof. All reinforced with titanium. Still, she didn’t want to take the chance that a neighbor would hear him screaming again and call the police. With a sigh, she increased the security settings of the apartment. When all security measures were active, the apartment was designed to lock up tighter than Fort Knox. Every door and window would seal shut; the entire place was tuned to respond to only her biometrics.
If the Winter Soldier reared his head…he wasn’t getting out. If anyone else stupidly showed up…they could get in but would be locked in. With her. And Bucky. It was safe to say, they would not be leaving. With another sigh, she pulled on the bracelet that let her interact with the apartment’s defenses, the Sentinel’s comms, and her gear. Better safe than sorry.
He lay there alone, shivering. Confused and frustrated. He couldn’t ever remember crying before and was embarrassed she had seen it. “I’m nothin’ like the man she knew. That perfect, smilin' idiot in the museum photo…now I’m a monster with a metal fuckin’ arm. Weak and cryin’ over a damn nightmare.” He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until he heard her soft voice.
“You are not a monster, an’ you are not weak Bucky. A lesser man would not have survived at all. Who you were was a wonderful person. Who Hydra made you was not your fault. But who you get ta be from today on is entirely your choice.” He saw her in the doorway and stilled. She padded across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, peering down at him. He could only stare, mortified that she’d heard him. Hope and wisdom lay in the words she’d spoken; the frustration that gnawed at him eased slightly.
He was suddenly self-conscious as her eyes trailed down to the scars on his left shoulder where metal met flesh. He gazed at her, hardly daring to breathe as she eyed his muscular torso and softly drew her finger across the scars. Her eyes brimmed with sadness and anger. “I’m so sorry they did all of this ta ya. We did go lookin’ for ya, ya know…I raised ‘bout five kindsa hell until that bastard Phillips gave in an’ sent out a search party. I should’ve known somethin’ was wrong when we found nothin’…”
His heart twisted painfully to hear her blame herself, and to know that someone had made the trip to try to find his body. They stared at each other as the moments stretched, just taking in the extraordinary circumstances that led to them being under the same roof together after seventy years. He reached out and touched her hand where she leaned on it. “Thank you, for everything. I-“ he gripped her hand in his. “I know you’re puttin’ yourself at risk for me.” Anwyn shifted her body so that she was not leaning on her hand and Bucky took the opportunity to pull it to him and press his cheek against it.
She smiled softly and scooted closer to him, close enough that he could comfortably hold her hand if he wanted. “Sleep, Bucky. I’m not going anywhere.” He nodded at her and closed his eyes, his right hand still wrapped around hers. Anwyn leaned back against the headboard and stretched her legs out along the bed.
Silently, she watched as his tense face relaxed and his breathing deepened with sleep. She dozed that night, but didn’t sleep. Sentinels were trained to do without sleep and she had the sneaking suspicion that skill was going to prove exceptionally useful in the days to come. Until she knew Bucky had some control over himself…she wasn’t going to let her guard down.