Marvel Avengers Fan Fiction ❯ A Captain America Bucky Barnes Winter Soldier Steve Rogers Avengers Fan Fic - The Constant ❯ Chapter 26 - The Constant & The Patient - Everyone Is Sorry For Something ( Chapter 26 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Constant & The Patient - Everyone Is Sorry For Something

Light is shining in under the door. It is never dark in here. You awaken to a mantra. The patient is sat up in bed next to you, eyes half-closed. Sweat runs down through his hair, over his face. He is talking, mumbling.

“...Sergeant James Barnes 32557038 US 107th. Sergeant James Barnes 32557038 US 107th. Sergeant James Barnes 32557038 US 107th...”

His right hand is clenched tight. There is such a heat pulsating out from him. You hear the words and panic. You too break out into a sweat; if anyone was to hear him, if anyone was to find out that any part of James Barnes was still in there - buried deeply into the patient's subconscious - God knows what they would do. They thought they were secure in the knowledge that they had destroyed Barnes completely.

You yourself don’t know if he is in there, but the fact that the patient is using his old name gives you hope that one day James may come back.

“Wake up.” You move so that you are in front of him. You shake his shoulders gently. “Come on, wake up!” You try not to sound panicked. You need to be calm, but you can feel the heat from your own panic. “Please wake up!” You shake him harder, but the mantra simply continues. There is no change.

He is in the nightmare; in deep, at the very bottom.

A door closes somewhere outside and you look at the clock. It's 11pm, not late but you know the guards will be patrolling and will open the slot in the door if they hear James talking. And what they hear will alert them. Then they will call Lehmann.

There is only one option open to you, for you have to act quickly.

“Wake up!” You slap him hard across the face. No change. “For God's sake, you need to wake up,” you shake him harder. You try to slap him again and instead cold metal wraps itself around your wrist and stops you.

He is awake. The chant has stopped. You cannot see his face behind his hair so you brush it away. It takes a couple of seconds and then he looks up at you.

You recoil. You haven’t woken the first personality, you have woken the second. Your heart drops through to your stomach and you feel sick.

“You were having a nightmare,“ you stutter.

You can see a red welt appearing on his cheek where you slapped him. His eyes bore into yours and flash. Then, that smile, that thin-lipped one you dread.

“I am the nightmare,” he growls.

Everything happens so quickly. You are grabbed and thrown onto your back. You are barely aware that you are gabbling, apologising. He is above you now, straddling you, and that cruel smile is shadowed on his face. “Please, I'm sorry,” you say but that seems to make the glint in his eyes harden.

You hear soldier's footsteps stop at the door but the patient ignores them. He knows they will not interfere. Instead his cold steel hand pulls at your nightdress. His eyes gleam the madness that is there coiled ready to strike.

You close your eyes.

The metal grid slides open in the door and you feel the patient shift slightly. He has turned to stare at the guard looking into the room. You would hate to be the guard on the end of that look because you know if the Winter Soldier recognises him he will remember him.

The metal slides quickly shut and the guards walk away. One is laughing shakily and telling the other one that the patient is safely occupied. To some of them that is your only use in life, to keep the patient occupied. It will be shift change soon and they can pretend they didn't see anything.

The patient turns back to you, eyes glinting. He is angry, so angry and you keep your eyes closed as he begins to hurt you.

*

After he has used you, you lie still with your eyes still closed. You feel your body hurting. Thoughts spin in your mind. You are not thinking clearly. You are trying to divert your mind from thinking, from thinking about what just happened, about what will happen again and again. You think about earlier today, the conversation you overheard. 

“Why don't you ever stay?” You don’t know why you say it out loud, and after you had you immediately wished you could take the words back.

You open your eyes and look towards where he is sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to you. It is something you heard the doctors discussing this morning, something they have asked themselves many times. Why doesn't the stronger second personality stay as the one in charge? You have wondered it yourself and now...now you are stupid enough to actually ask.

You are sat on top of the bed, covers awry. You feel sore where he has taken you, but you still have your nightdress on; he was in too much of a hurry to remove it. He had appeared to be just rising to go to the bathroom; your words stop him and he turns around to face you.

The look he gives you is one of humour. You look away. This is the cruel personality. Why did you ask something so utterly stupid?

“What? What did you say?” he asks.

“It doesn't matter,” you say so quietly you doubt he hears you, but he did. This one hears everything.

He leans forward and takes a lock of your hair, wraps it around his finger. As he talks he tightens it until it becomes painful, and you are forced nearer to him until your faces are only inches apart.

“Do you want me to?” You don’t answer. “I said...do you want me to?”

No, you don’t want him to stay. Why in God's name did you say such a stupid thing?

He studies you, then unwinds your hair - taking the pressure off but not letting go.

“Are you up to that much pain?” he asks quietly.

You close your eyes. So stupid.

He clenches more of your hair as his fist tightens and the grip becomes uncomfortable and then almost unbearable and you whimper. He is so close to you. You can smell his breath, feel his words on your skin.

“I asked you a question.” He studies you. “So you don’t know what to say now, huh? Let the genie out of the lamp, the cat out of the bag...the lunatic out of the jacket.” He laughs but there is no humour in it. “Unbelievable.”

He watches her closely, sees the regret in her eyes. He can see she wishes she had not said anything and part of him already knows he is going to make her regret it. But part of him knows he needs to deflect the question, to make her forget she asked, and does not realise he hasn't replied.

Why doesn't he stay?

Because he can't.

He cannot cope with the utter confusion and pain in his head when he is in charge. He knows if he stayed he would kill her, would destroy everything. They would have no choice but to kill him. Even he cannot control the anger in his own head. It gets so bad that as a defence he has to let go to the first personality, to the quiet one who seems to make sense of the confusion, to the harmless one they trust.

He can remember things that have been done to him, but there is no context. He doesn't know who the blond haired man in his memories is but he knows that thinking about him makes his head hurt and his heart ache. The images of a city he sees, home yet he doesn't know where it is. Other faces that he never sees here in the complex. He remembers so much pain, so much blood...his blood, his pain.

When he is in charge the confusion makes him so angry, makes him so tense that he needs release and the only way he can have that is with her. He is dependant on her. But he also needs to hurt her; she is part of this, part of what is happening to him. In his warped brain she is somehow to blame for his need of her.

He looks at her now and feels the noise start, feels himself getting tense again, needs to climb inside her, drown in her, and he will. He clenches his fists, his balls ache and he feels the blood rush to his head. The noise starts to make itself felt as he pulls her forward to hurt her again.

You eyes are downcast. You don’t want to see the smile he will have on his face, the cruel cold smile that means you interest him and he wants to play with you for a while longer. Your scalp hurts; you are sure your hair is going to come away in his hand. You are both sat awkwardly and the position is uncomfortable, you try to move but he won't let you. Instead he pulls you so close his lips brush yours, then his hand flattens out on the back of your head and won't let you move, his mouth is firmly on yours and his tongue invades you. His other hand moves to your shoulder.

You put your hands on his chest to try to push him away but he is to strong. You begin to panic, feel claustrophobic, you cannot get away from him and without thinking you bite down hard on his lip. It takes him by surprise and he lets you go. He draws his hand across his mouth and it comes away bloody; you have broken the skin. You are frightened now. You try and back away on the bed but he catches your ankle. He licks his blood from his hand and that cold smile makes your blood run cold. You can see his blood on his tongue as he tastes it.

“First blood,” he says, his eyes trapping you. He moves closer and now you are too frightened to move. He lets go of your ankle as he knows he has you.

“I'll stay,” he says pushing you down. “Although you'll wish I hadn't.”

His hands move down your body feeling every part of you. Your eyes are wide open and full of dread, it makes him harder, he is excited; you have never tried to hurt him before.

*

Later, much later, he takes you by the arm and drags you to the bathroom. You whimper; you hurt everywhere. Your left hand is throbbing and one of your eyes will be black by morning. He drove a knife through the palm of your left hand when you were struggling too much, pinned it to the cabinet, don’t worry he said, I know how to do it without any lasting damage. He did it just after he had told you he knew he was the first to ever fuck you and would be the first to ever sodomise you.

He sets the shower going and pushes you in. You shiver under the water, even though it is warm. He starts washing you down, knowing he is hurting you and that even now still enjoying the way it makes him hard to hear you whimper. You know you should be brave, other women would be you think, but you can't; you are so broken, you can't take any more tonight.

You try not to look at him. He has his own wounds, his lip that you bit, bruises and scratch marks where you fought but you know he doesn't feel them and that his body will already be repairing the damage.

He soaps up the sponge and runs it over your stomach and then down between your legs and up the back, you try to back away from him, it hurts so much, he knows it does. The soap runs into the wounds and then drips down, bloody, to the floor.

Your hand is aching, pulsing and the pain makes you breathless and slowly you kneel, clutching your left hand to your chest.

He stands there for a moment then slowly smiles. “Offering are you?” he says quietly.

You look up trying to blink the water out of your eyes and you realise what he is saying, he is hard and you are level with his erection.

You begin to shake your head, no, he can't make you again, please God no, you can't do it.

“No, no please...”

He steps nearer and you fall backwards against the corner of the shower. “I can't please, I can't, don’t make me, please don’t make me,” you weep and he studies you, those cold cruel eyes taking you in. He reaches out. He is going to force you, but you draw away as far as you can and bring your knees up and hug them to you. You bow your head and all he can hear is you saying the word no.

He doesn't step back but he does move his hand back and start to stroke himself. He can't help it, he still wants her, wants to climb inside her skin and be close to her. Shut out the din in his mind that is slowly driving him insane. Shut out the pictures, the utter confusion of living.

“Look at me,” he says as the water falls onto you both. You can't, you won't, you know what he is doing, you don’t want to see his eyes. You can hear his breathing, it is coming faster and you know what is going to happen. There is nothing you can do and you tell yourself it is better than having to suck him off.

“I said look at me you whore,” he grabs your arm with his left hand and pulls, almost dislocating it, and you are forced to look up just as he starts to come. You feel his warm liquid hit your face as he arches his head back and groans. As his body spasms and more semen falls he lets go of you and you put your arms over your head and you feel the rest of the liquid hit them instead. You know when he has finished he will punish you but you curl up as much as you can, hiccuping because your breath is short and you are crying so hard.

He has finished and is quiet. All you can hear is the water falling, but you know he is still there.

Then you hear him move and at the same time he says your name. Your actual name.

“Freya?” It is a quiet, stunned voice. “No...Freya...” He kneels down in front of you. “Oh no...no, no,” the words run into each other and you know it is not the second personality saying them.

You look up and straight into the horrified eyes of the first, the quite gentle one.

Normally you would try to reassure him, tell him everything is all right but you can't, it has been to horrific this time. You need comfort and you uncurl and move forward, he opens his arms and takes you into them.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh God...what have I done?” he whispers as you weep against his chest.

The second one has left. You are both alone.

He is stunned, doesn't know what to do; he awakened as his body was spasming over her curled-up body and he is horrified. He doesn't know how to react. How can he have been doing something so awful? What else has he done? He can see blood mixing with the water. See bruises blossoming on her body, see the utter fear that was in her eyes. He has injuries to, his lip is throbbing and feels swollen. What happened here?

Using his left hand he gets them both up standing and out of the shower. Grabbing the nearest towel he tries to wrap her up in it; he is not very good at this, it is always Freya that comforts him.

You are beginning to calm. You know you are safe now. Your body knows it is safe. “I'm all right,” you say quietly, you don’t want him to see too much of what has been done to you. You pull away and try to be brave and smile at him but you can see in his eyes that you're not fooling him.

Then his eyes harden. He is learning about this world. “I'm sorry,” and you see his jaw working, he is clenching and unclenching his fists. You lean forward trying not to wince and brush his forehead with your lips. No more words are needed. You are both victims.

He turns and switches the water off and you take the opportunity to get more towels. You wrap your left hand in a flannel so he cannot see it. Then you stumble to the bedroom. The first thing you see are the rumpled sheets and blood staining them. He comes in behind you and moves past you.

“Blood...” He turns to look at you and you try to smile, your face is so pale.

“I'm not hurt. Please, I just...need to rest, to sleep,” you say. “We can just use the top one and blankets for tonight.”

You are so tired. All you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep. Grabbing the bottom sheets he pulls them off and throws them into the corner. Then he stops, doesn't move, just stands there next to the bed. You move around slowly to the other side and pull the top sheet down, it is hardly marked. “Help me,” you say and he gets the other side pulling it down. You tuck in only part of it because you can't use your left hand and you don't want him to see the knife wound.

Then you get on the bed, he still just stands there.

“Please will you hold me until I fall asleep?” you ask and he looks at you and makes your heart feel as if it will break.

“What if I hurt you again?” he asks.

You shake your head, “You won't.” Not tonight, are the words you do not add.

He climbs in and puts the lamp out. You pull the blankets up and then move next to him and he draws you close to him. He is barely awake. You are shattered but you feel safe with him, he will not harm you and somehow you know the second will not be back tonight.

Both of you fall into a deep sleep.

*

You wake first.

Your whole body hurts, throbs. There is bruising and bite marks, scratches where he hung on so tight to you his nails and metal fingers broke your skin. Your left hand had started to clot but just pulling at the flannel makes it bleed again, the blood slowly seeping through.

What worries you more though is what the second personality did to you last night. You have never been used in that way before. When he said he was going to sodomise you, you had felt so frightened you had pleaded with him not to and for the first time ever you called out to the guards and begged them for help. No one came.

Now your lower back hurts and you have a terrible stinging sensation around your private area. You try not to think about it, you did not know something could hurt so much.

The patient is asleep, fast asleep, so you quietly get out of the bed, pick up some clothes and go into the bathroom and dress. It is after 8am and you know that Doctor Jakobs will be awake. You are going to need his help.

You move quietly past the bed where the Winter Soldier lays. You know he will be asleep for a little while yet and you let yourself out of the room.

There are two guards outside. Neither can look at her. They came on duty at midnight. The guards they were replacing said the Winter Soldier had already had his fun and it should be a quiet night. They were wrong. When they heard her cry out, heard her begging them to help her they looked away, could not look at each other. In the end they moved further down the corridor. They are under orders, they are never to help her, but that doesn't mean they have to like it. It doesn't mean they don't feel like cowards, or feel the pain of helplessness.

One of the guards is older and has a daughter her age and it hits him the hardest. He tries to swap all his shifts guarding the Winter Soldier for other duties. He told Marinov he doesn't care what it is as long as he doesn't have to hear her cry out at night. But last night he was on duty. Last night he heard everything and he cannot look at her this morning.

The other guard, Serge Zolnerowich, is young and was innocent. He hadn't known just what a man could do to a woman. It makes him sick. When he first came to work for Hydra he believed what they told him: they were making a better world. He saw what they did to the American soldier to break his mind, he has seen what the American has become. How could this happen in a “better world”? His disillusionment builds more every day.

You walk past them. You try to walk normally but everything hurts and you feel like an old woman. You are clutching your left hand and the throbbing in it is making you feel sick. A moment's dizziness stops you and you lean against the coolness of the wall. You are suddenly very hot, you are sweating, and the corridor seems to elongate. For a moment you think you are going to faint but then you feel a hand under your arm and you look up. It is the older guard. He helps you stand and stays with you until you get to where you are going. Neither of you say anything as you walk. You are grateful for the help and he is grateful he can at least do this for you.

You indicate you have reached where you are going, Doctor Jakobs office, and nod to him and he lets you go. He knocks and when Jakobs says to come in he opens the door for you. Just before he turns away he speaks.

“I am sorry,” he says in Russian, and then he is gone. You know they cannot help you, you know you are worth nothing and the Winter Soldier is worth everything but it still makes you choke to hear his kind voice saying those words. Your emotions these days go so easily from hating someone to liking them. Will you ever get them under control?

Doctor Jakobs looks up and sees it is you and jumps up from his desk smiling but the smile soon drops when he looks at you and you see it replaced with concern.

“My hand,” you say holding out your left hand wrapped in a cloth but blood showing through. “I had an accident and I can't get it to stop bleeding.” You make a poor attempt to smile as you say this.

Over time he has become 'your' doctor because of the many mishaps you have had. When he first started treating you, both you and he knew that you weren't so accident prone. After the first time the Winter Soldier bedded you - you don’t even think of calling it rape because you still believe in some twisted way that it was your fault - it was him you turned to for medical help.

He has never told her the effect her story about James Barnes had on him and she does not know yet that he is her greatest ally. Now he looks at her. She is sweating, her pallor is grey and her eyes full of pain.

“And the bruises?” he asks and takes her arm because he is worried she is going to pass out.

“Don't be nice to me,” she begs because she hasn't the energy to cry.

He takes her through to the other part of the office that he has made into a small consulting room and gets her to sit down, noting how gingerly she does so. Then taking the wrapping off her left hand he looks at the damage done.

“And what was the implement?” he asks.

“A narrow bladed knife but it has missed the bones. I just need to stop it bleeding.”

He looks at her. “Hmm, and how do you know it has missed?”

She tries to smile again. “Because he told me it would.”

He knows what has happened, he has met the second personality, seen the cruelty in his eyes. He has treated her wounds before but it has never been as bad as this. “He's getting worse,” he growls.

“It was my fault, I goaded him, I was careless, stupid,” she says and winces as he starts to wash the wound to treat it.

“He will kill you one day.”

“No. No he won't.” She wants to take the worry away from Jakobs but even she is not sure that one day he won't go too far.

He works on your hand and when it is bandaged he stops you from leaving. “I know he did more. I can see it in your eyes,” and this time you do start to cry.

This is a doctor, you are a nurse, and you try and tell yourself you can't be embarrassed but you are. There is damage and you are frightened by some of it. In a halting voice and not looking at him you tell him what the patient has done. You hear him swear. When you are finished he leaves you for a moment and then comes back with a simple gown which he hands to you.

“I need to examine you, Freya. I know it is the last thing you want but we need to see if there is any lasting damage that won't heal by itself.”

You nod and bite your lip.

You are with Jakobs for another hour. He treats the bites and the scratches, the cuts and the bruising. Your shoulder joint is sore but with no permanent damage done. He also puts you on a course of antibiotics. He gives you a supply of pain killers and a cream you can use for the more personal injuries.

At the end he tells you he is sorry. By now you are tired again and just want to get back to your room and lie down. Its funny how everyone keeps telling you how sorry they are when it is what you keep telling the Winter Soldier.

Everyone, it appears, is sorry for something.

Once you have gone, Jakobs documents everything. One day the world will need to know what has been done here - not just to Freya, but to James Barnes as well. It is information that will be kept well hidden in Hydra's files without their knowledge. After he has gone there will always be someone else to keep the information up to date and hidden. He cannot change what he has done in the past but he can try and bring Hydra down in the future and this is the only way he knows how. Stefan has already agreed to help and will take over should anything happen to Jakobs. Eduard Marinov is also helping.

They are all on the lookout for more like minded people every day.

Hydra is too big for them to fight, most of them are not and will not be trained soldiers but what was it someone once said - The pen is mightier than the sword? Jakobs hopes they are right. One day Hydra will pay.

One day Hydra will be taken down and crushed and when it is, the proof will be there to annihilate them.