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Lover Part 2/18

- Cruel Summer -

Bucky x Reader/ The Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: “So there's you, you remember everything from the moment you met Winter until now. And then there is this Bucky person, and he remembers everything in his life except for the parts involving you. Like someone had gone inside his brain like hacking a computer and digitally removed you from every frame of his mind. It’s a lot to accept and it’s a lot to try to understand.”

A/N: This chapter is a long one, I had to set up some of the Winter/Spring stuff to get the story going via flashback lucid dream. Let me know if anything is confusing! I really like this chapter :))

Word Count: 5.5k Part 1 Series Masterlist Part 3

Warning: Just a bit of violence.

You lay awake in that same hospital bed in the otherwise empty medical ward at the Avengers compound, chained down because they don't trust you, because the man you love doesn't trust you or even know you.

If you open your eyes you are forced to look at blank white walls, cold metal technology, bleeping monitors. But if you close your eyes all you can see behind your eyelids is him, the way he looked at you like he’s never even seen you before, like everything that you two had shared, everything you both had gone through was gone. It was all your burden to bear.

You wouldn't be able to wipe the memories either, you had tried that before but they always came back, you assumed it was because they were so important, they made you so much of who you were. If he hadn’t remembered you yet maybe it’s because in his mind you weren't important, all he cared about, all he needed he already had. Maybe he had no time for love.

It was clear that you showing up out of nowhere had startled him to say the least. He thought he was finally a complete man, that he owned all of his memories again, that the only person inside his head was himself, that he had gained control over himself again. And for someone to show up, begging him to remember them, telling him that they knew him would be a total mind fuck.

Here is where you and Winter differ, Winter when you first met him had no memory of his past, he was entirely The Winter Soldier. When he was freshly brainwashed, when he saw you straight after the chair he always remembered you, remembered Hydra, remembered his missions and his place in everything. Sometimes after a visit to the chair, he acted colder towards you, took a day or two to get back to normal, or whatever your normal was. But he was still the Winter you knew and loved, the Winter that loved you. You were the same way, you had no memory of a past life, your memories started and ended with Winter, with Hydra.

But this new Winter was a whole different person, he looked and sounded like the Winter you knew, especially the one that only you knew, the softer side of the cold soldier. But he had this whole past life he remembered, he mentioned this Steve person, he mentioned the war before Hydra had captured him, he remembered his whole life but somehow not you.

And it makes sense sort of, brainwashing science isn't perfect, some bits get lost forever, some memories buried more deeply than others, the Avengers probably had something to do with him retrieving all these old memories Hydra had tried so hard to bury deep. Maybe they could help you too. Though you aren’t sure if they’d want to.

So there's you, you remember everything from the moment you met Winter until now. And then there is this Bucky person, and he remembers everything in his life except for the parts involving you. Like someone had gone inside his brain like hacking a computer and digitally removed you from every frame of his mind. It’s a lot to accept and it’s a lot to try to understand.

Perhaps this was better, better than him remembering you and then choosing not to love you, remembering all the trouble and pain and still deciding that it all was worthless in the end. That the love that bloomed in such a cold dark violent place could never blossom in the sunshine of his today, and maybe you would have to accept that too.

But he looks at you like you are a stranger he is seeing for the first time, just passing through his life. You remember the first time you ever saw him, you remember it like it was yesterday, instead of many years and lives and deaths and lost loves away.

As if your body was actively trying to block out the medications you finally let yourself relax, let them take over, let them numb your brain, perhaps whatever fever dream that your mind creates from being high on the medications they were pumping into your system will be better than your overactive thoughts. You feel these chills run through you, the familiar feeling of pain being numbed by high-strength medications. Your skin goes clammy as you close your eyes, sweat drips down your forehead, your breath gets slower, you fall asleep as the pain fades...

-

The last time you had felt that, felt such severe pain like your body was breaking and rebuilding itself, was when you had been given the serum, back when they strapped you down, stuck needles into your arms, taped your mouth shut.

You can picture the room in your sleepy lucid state, it was dark and dingey and wet like a damp basement, there was no sunlight or warmth. You remember the pain, and then it fading, and then before falling asleep you heard someone speak.

“If she survives the night she will do.” He said coldly and then left the room, left you with the doctors.

It felt like it was slowly killing you and then putting you back together all at once.

And it's cruel, he's cruel.

You didn't have a face or name to the voice at the time, but you came to know him after, you tried not to hold the cold words you first heard him say at you, against him. According to the doctors, nobody had ever survived the procedure before aside from him. Maybe it was easier for him to not think of you as a real person, just a test and some numbers, the beeping of your heartbeat just another machine.

When you survive the night he is given the task of making you better, sure your body accepted the serum, part of the process that everyone else had died in before but he had to make you into a weapon, you needed skills to survive this job, this life, if you could even call it that.

It’d be easier if they hadn't picked the most handsome person in this stupid underground base.

His beautiful face, the shape of his body, the feeling you got, like an electric shock when his skin brushed yours, whether he's grabbing your hand and helping you up or punching you pushing you down, it's all cruel.

He looks so pretty like a devil too. Gun in his hands and blood on his face, all he’s missing is his horns. It's hard though, extremely difficult to view him in the way you view everyone else you meet through Hydra, with blind hatred, and concrete opinions. Winter was different. He could be cold and strict, he always followed orders, he did his job and put it over everything. But he had weaknesses, you saw him fall and fail and hurt and sweat just like you did. You often thought about what you would want to be seen as, the next person who came here, if there ever was a new asset you had to train, you wouldn’t want them to hate you...

Because in your mind you were innocent, at first at least, you didn't ask for any of this, you didn't ask to have your life stolen and be tortured and tested on. Because everything before Hydra was blank, but maybe you were wrong to assume you were a good person before all of this happened.

Maybe innocent was a bad word to define it, you were under pressure sure, brainwashed yes, and so was he, fighting to stay alive, following orders, but at the end of the day, what made your life more valuable than the people you killed? You tried not to think about it. Tried not to put the blame on yourself.

-

After you had survived the Serum, they ran tests on you for days, they fed you so little, not certain yet if they should waste resources on you. These people had stolen you, tortured you and then had to audacity to not even like you, not be proud that you had survived, not admire the way you handled pain, no comforting words of goodnight as they would turn off the light in the lab and leave you strapped into that god awful chair until morning.

Eventually, they give you your own room, it’s three concrete walls and then a thick glass door and a thick glass window on the fourth, not looking out to anything nice, not there for your enjoyment, but so people can watch you, like a caged animal. You’re sat on your bed, knees pulled to your chest as you try to comfort yourself. You look up to see a man standing at the door, you don't know how long he has silently been there, he has a blank expression, messy long dark hair, and a shiny metal arm. He keys in a code to your room and then enters without asking.

“We need to train, let’s go.”

“Train? You expect me to be able to do anything? I'm covered in bandaid residue and needle marks, I haven’t eaten a proper meal in maybe three days? I don’t know I’ve lost count because they had me strapped into a chair night and day. I haven’t showered in who knows how long, I don't even know my name, I don't even know how I know anything. My mind is like a black hole.”

And he should be stern, he shouldn’t feel sorry for you. He doesn't have compassion, he’s told not too, he’s shot girls in the face prettier than you, smaller than you, weaker than you. But somehow there’s a pang in his chest, a voice in his head screams that you look just like he did. He knows exactly how you feel too.

“I know, but we have to train,” he insists, he has orders to follow here.

You’re scared of him, as pretty of a face as he has he is still a big man with wide shoulders and his eyes are dark and mysterious. And you feel so weak that you just give in, you offer him a weak nod and try to stand but your knees turn to jelly and you fall, palms hitting the cold cement hard.

He flinches and catches himself before he goes to help you. It’s so unlike him to feel the need to help.

“I’ll go get you some lunch from the cafeteria, there’s a bathroom behind that door, shower and there should be clothes in that dresser, be quick,” he offers and it’s the smallest amount of kindness and compassion you have seen in a week so you smile and nod quickly picking yourself up with as much strength as you can muster, you don’t even remember what a shower feels like but you crave it nonetheless.

The door closes and he’s gone like a whisper in the wind. The bathroom is nice, like a clean public bathroom, smooth stainless steel metal, a sink, a mirror, a bathtub with a shower, clean towels hanging on the rack and a laundry bag with a note taped on the wall about the laundry schedule. You peel your clothes from your body and go to lock the bathroom door but it doesn't lock, typical.

The hot water is nice, you use your nails to scrub the sticky residue from that clear medical tape they used all over you, you gently clean the needle marks with your thumb and watch as they basically disappear. You wash your hair, comb through it with your fingers, clean your ears, scrub your face. You feel clean, it’s nice.

When you dry off you look through your room for clothes in the dresser in the corner, they are all very plain, black white grey, a bit of red here and there. You grab leggings, cotton underwear, a sports bra and a red t-shirt. The socks you grab are thin and slippery on the floor, you grab a sweater and then go to the bathroom to get some sort of privacy while you change.

You hear the door unlock and click open so you move quickly, combing your hair and then braiding it out of the way.

He places a grey metal tray on your bed, a sandwich a drink and a mix of fruit and vegetables atop it. Such simple food has never looked so good.

You sit down and start eating, the man stands there, awkwardly as he waits for you, following orders.

You speak as you munch on some cold carrots. “ So what’s your name?” You ask and he looks at you.

“We don't really get names, I used to be called the asset, but now there are two of us, so I’m asset number one, and you are asset number two,” he says and he sounds like a machine spitting out scripted answers.

“Asset,” you say, feeling the word on your tongue.

“Some people call me The Winter Soldier too. Its more of a code name though, for missions.”

“The Winter Soldier,” you mimic his words for the second time and he almost thinks it’s cute for a moment. Socializing is so weird, he hasn’t just talked to someone in so long, someone not superior or below him, someone who is supposed to be his equal. “Do I get a codename?” You ask and he nods.

“Yeah, I’m not sure if they decided on Summer or Spring yet, but for simplicity, it will be another season, like mine.”

“The Summer Soldier? The Spring Soldier?” You repeat as you swallow the rest of your drink.

You look up at him for a minute, he looks as if he’s about to say something so you don't dare interrupt him, curious to hear his next words.

“It feels strange doesn't it,” he asks, finally having someone to talk to about this.

“What does?” You ask, unsure because everything feels strange right now.

“Your brain, you know things, a lot of things, but at the same time, you feel like you know nothing. You know what a name is, you know you should have one but you can’t remember your name, your nicknames, other people’s names. It’s strange.”

“That’s exactly it. Like when I showered I was excited like I could remember that a shower is nice and feels good on your skin but I can’t remember ever having a shower before today. Like a black hole.”

He just nods, satisfied with your answer, happy but not showing it on his face that you understand him. “Okay, we better go now.”

On the first day of training he went easy on you, just basic workouts, building your strength which came all too easy now that the serum was flowing through you. He brought you to a part of the underground compound that had a computer type room with tons of technology, a room filled with books and tables, a gym-type room with a small room attached with training versions of any weapon you could ever need.

He said he would show you the rest tomorrow, he gave you a couple of books to keep in your room, language books, basic coding books, self-defence books and a few care guides to some basic guns. He assured you not to try to read them all tonight.

He showed you where the cafeteria was, it was small, it had two tables and a small service counter where they gave you whatever it was that they were making that day. He said you could go there anytime you were hungry, super-soldiers need a little more food to fule.

Night crept closer and he encouraged you to get some sleep, he leaned against the door frame and entered your code letting you in. When it opened you hesitated before walking in.

“Thanks, see you in the morning,” you said quietly, still unsure fo what sort of dynamic there should be between the two of you. He nodded, and awkwardly gestured to the room next to yours.

“I'm right next door if you need anything just knock on the wall or something. I'm sure they will give you your lock code soon enough.”

“Thanks,” you repeated again and then entered the room, you watched as he entered the code in again and locked you inside. You wondered how many people knew that code or if it was just him and whoever was in charge.

Things continued on like that for a while. Winter would come to your room in the morning, you would already be ready, waiting for him like he said you should be. You were quick to fall into line, to listen to the rules and paid good attention to everything he told you. This one on one time was nice, Winter was a strict teacher, he taught at a fast pace but he was also very hands-on. If he gave you a book to read he would always make sure you understood it, when it came to safety he was very thorough, relentlessly going over gun safety and making sure you knew your gun better than you knew yourself. Which wasn’t really that hard.

You were like a sponge, absorbing every word out of his mouth, following him around the base like a puppy dog. He never got upset with you, never got mad when you failed, or annoyed at your pestering. Everyone else seemed to hate you though and you weren’t sure why. There were very few females in the base, and they were never inherently mean to you, except the cafeteria cooks who weren’t pleased about having to cook for another super-soldier.

All the lab rats, all the officers, technicians, the people who you didn’t even know what their job title was, they resented you, they scowled at you in the hallway they pushed past you, ignored your existence.

They didn’t seem to like Winter that much either but they never stepped out of line with him, maybe fear was his secret. But these men would never fear you, why should they? Because you can load a shotgun faster than they could tie their shoe? Maybe one day you will show them. Earn their respect.

-

“Winter can we go over Ap4’s again today before we do combat?” You ask quietly.

‘Winter?” he asks and he tries to hide a bit of a bemused smile. It’s the first time you ever use that nickname with him and he likes it. There is no soldier attached to it, nothing objectifying him.

“Yeah, you like your new nickname?” You tease as he silently walks down a different hallway to the gunroom, abiding by your request.

“It has a nice ring to it,” he says back, almost a teasing tone to his voice as well and then he pauses as he opens the door, gesturing you to enter the room, “after you, Spring.”

And they are just nicknames, simply shortened names, but hearing him call you something so sweet makes your knees buckle as you walk past him.

-

The computer room is warm, the amount of running technology in here makes it that way. You told Winter that this is your favourite room to read in and ever since he hasn’t asked you to read or study anywhere else. The table in the middle of the room is wide and you sit on opposite sides as you both read things together.

Winter has a mission coming up, something secretive but he told you he needs to know some more advanced coding stuff to complete it, he’s been reading these books for weeks.

You’re across from him, studying your french books, taking notes, rewriting words, mouthing the words silently to practise. You pause and stare at him a little, mind wandering to other things. He can feel your eyes on him so he stops reading.

“Can I help you?” He asks as he perks an eyebrow, lip curling to a one-sided smile. It makes your heart beat a little faster. He warms up to you more and more each day.

“Oh I, nothing,” you try to explain why you were staring at him but nothing comes to mind.

He puts his book down flat and turns it for you to read the page he’s on, he takes his time and explains it to you, and that’s not why you were starring, now you’re faking interest just to hear his voice talk softly at you.

He says explaining things to you sometimes helps him learn himself, you like it when he does this. It makes him more appear more human, less perfect.

He grabs your pencil from your hand and your fingers touch momentarily, there a slight shock on your skin from the interaction. He continues explaining and writing things down for ten minutes, but all you can focus on is the tingling in your hand where he touched you.

-

Something went wrong on his mission, something he didn’t cause. He apparently managed to salvage the mission, complete it as per usual but he must have done things he wasn't meant to. Killed people who weren’t supposed to be involved.

His eyes are vacant the next day, he’s cold towards you, not in the mood for conversation, mind too numb to retain any information.

You know they put him in the chair. You heard it happen from the next room and you felt helpless. But now as he sits across from you at breakfast, silent, eyebrows knitted, you wish you could help him again, but you don't know how to.

He doesn't eat a bite of his breakfast. Once he sees you’re finished he stands up and grabs your hand, pulling you down the hallway, he’s extra gentle as his metal fingers wrap around yours, walking fast through the empty hallways.

He brings you to a room you’ve never seen before, the door is locked and he punches in the code and then quickly pulls you in, locking the door behind you. Your jaw drops when you take the room in, its got a slanted glass ceiling. Snow is falling from the sky and falling on the glass, then sliding down. You can see the details of the snowflakes, the way they melt and trickle down in patterned streams.

He realizes he is still holding your hand and he drops it, he lies down on the cement ground, places his hands under his head and stares up at the ceiling. You follow him, lie a good distance apart and stare up in silence too. He wishes you were close enough to hold his hand again and he wishes he didn’t crave your touch, even if he is so sensitive, so unloved and beaten that such a soft gentle touch, just consciously holding hands with you, would probably send his body into shock.

But it is still comforting having you here. You don’t understand what it’s like to kill yet, but soon you will and he will be there for you too, to lie with you a few meters apart on the cold concrete ground as snow melts on the glass ceiling above, a silent understanding, a touchless comfort. And if your partnership never grows beyond this, he won’t mind; for it is leagues better than his life before you. Better than his winter, before spring.

-

Your first mission with Winter went ...well it was a trainwreck. You got separated, they gave you a faulty com device, you panicked without Winter there to guide you, help you. You found yourself alone in a room with the target, you tried to question him but he had a gun, you shot his arm and tried to disarm him but as he fell to the ground he grabbed his gun again, you pushed his hand away from you and he shot himself in the head.

When Winter came in after following the sound of the gunshots he saw you, straddling this man with his brains splattered against the walls. Winter searched him, helped you up and basically dragged your shaking body away.

This man wasn't technically your first kill, but you did push his hand, you put him in that position and his blood and brains were on your tac suit, on your hands.

Winter was nice about it too, he drove you both out of there, he talked you down, reassured you. Not that it wasn't your fault but that you would get better, it would become easier. And that he shouldn’t have lost track of you.

When you got back to the base they didn't have the same opinion, they didn't believe you or trust you, they thought you were holding back information, even though Winter adamantly assured them that you weren’t, you had no reason to lie to them.

But they were smart, though evil people they had brains and they could tell that there was something deep inside, something in your eyes that you were holding back; a secret, no matter how big or small or unrelated, they were going to get you to spill it. No matter how much blood had to spill first.

They drag you to that chair and you put up a fight, you didn't want to be wiped, only bad things, painful things happened in that chair.

They strap you in and say teasing words, “you’ll grow to like the chair,” “be a good girl and sit down nicely, stop putting up a fuss.” They whisper and Winter stands idly in the background, not helping but also not stopping them.

They start pumping drugs into your arm after hitting you a few times to get you locked in, it stings under your skin and your mouth goes fuzzy, your vision blurs a little and you feel tired tired... tired and the room spins.

“I feel dizzy,” you whisper slumped in your chair as Winter walks up to you. The lab rats and soldiers leave the room, giving time for the drug to kick in. It's not a truth serum per se, but it does make anyone more...compliable.

“Look Spring, I believe you, I don't think your lying, but if there is anything you are holding back I need you to tell me, tell me what your hiding from them.”

He pleads and you see a bit of fear in his eyes, as if he is scared for you, perhaps growing attached to you. But all you can do is giggle in his face loudly, your nose brushes his cheek. “You really wanna know?” You ask and you have this childishly wide smile across your face and it'd be cute and wholesome if there wasn't blood between your teeth and smeared across your face.

“Please tell me,” he almost begs and you fold for him, abiding by his every request as per usual, as you were taught.

“I love you,” you gulp and then giggle, “ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?” You admit to him finally and then pass out from the beating and the high amount of drugs.

And as the drugs kick in in your dream, the ones in your current system do the same, the dream world behind your eyelids fades into black nothingness. The room is filled with a steady calm heartbeat as you lay sleeping in the bed. The nurse finally walks in, scared to visit you while awake and makes notes on your vitals and recovery, changing your stitching and pulling your blanket up to your chin.

You look like a little girl when you sleep, too young to be such a feared weapon. Only if she ignores the bloody gauze in the garbage beside your bed or the stories she’s heard about you.

Tony walks down the almost empty hallway, everyone in the tower should be asleep, there are no current missions in progress. A rare moment of downtime for the busy superheroes.

He leans against the door as the nurse stands above you, tucking your messy hair behind your ear, she feels bad, she’s caring, it’ in her nature as a nurse.

“Think she deserves a better room?” Tony asks and startles the nurse who quickly pulls her hands away. She looks at Tony for a moment before he continues explaining himself.

“We don't have any missions coming up soon, one of the nicer rooms we have here reserved for us will do her fine I think. Nicer bed, tv, it’s like a small apartment.”

“With a two-way mirror across the wall and video surveillance.” She adds.

“Exactly, we both win, she gets a nicer comfier stay and we get to keep a nice close eye on her.”

“You really think she is up to something bad?” The nurse asks, taking another look at your peaceful expression.

“I don't know what to think,” Tony admits as he leaves the room, texting Bruce to come to the medical ward as well.

“I’ll get the room ready Mr. Stark. The sweet nurse says and then scurries to the opposite end of the hallway.

Tony and Bruce whisper in the hallway as they watch you through the two-way mirror, now that the nurse has moved you. They don’t need to whisper though, they have drugged you up well enough that they could set off a nuke in the hallway and you wouldn't hear a thing.

They discuss how to handle your treatment, whether they should continue to keep you in chains, whether they should try to help you as they did Bucky.

Down the hall and around the corner Bucky is making his way back to your room, he finds it empty and his heart drops, he holds his breath and he goes into defensive mode, ready to attack because he is scared of you, he doesn't trust you.

He turns in a slow panicked circle, looking over the room and then he quickly rushes out the door, knocking the small nurse to the ground in haste.

He apologizes over and over again as he helps her to her feet.

“Were you looking for the girl?” She asks, a little bite to her voice clearly annoyed at the tumble.

“What no, I was just walking, down the hall, to the uh,” he freezes, he never usually walks down here.

“You were taking a 1 Am stroll through the medical ward?” She questions again.

“Yeah, I do that...sometimes.”

“The medical ward is usually empty and locked at this time.” She disproves his lie and the panic is still painted on his face. She gives him a knowing look as she points down the hall.

“She’s moved to one of the nicer rooms, the one on the very end. Don't disturb her though, I won’t be here if she wakes up, and tell Mr. Stark I’ll be late tomorrow.” She is clearly unhappy with the entire situation, her medical ward filled with nosey people and Tony and Bruce making changes when she should have gone home hours ago.

Bucky waits for her to leave and then makes his way down the hall meeting Tony and Bruce.

“Hey Winter,” Tony teases, switching out his usual nickname for the one you had mentioned earlier, “here to see your little girlfriend?” He teases and Bruce looks worried that Tony is pushing Bucky too far.

“She is not my girlfriend. What are you doing here?” Bucky asks.

“I should ask you the same thing?” Tony continues and Bucky learned from his last failed attempt at a lie and chooses silence instead.

“We just decided we are going to help your friend here,” Bruce says to change the subject off of Bucky.

“She isn’t my friend either, I don't know her.”

“Well, that’s exactly what we are going to find out!” Tony says, excitement in his eyes.

“She isn’t your experiment either,” Bucky says as he pushes past them and walks down the hall, tired of this interaction.

Tony yells at him down the hall, knowing you are too drugged up to be woken by the noise.

“Isn’t she though?” Bruce bites on his finger nervously, tired of being caught up in Tony’s schemes but being torn by wanting to help you.

Bucky wishes none of this was happening, he wishes he could go back in time, to a few days ago when he was at a bar with Sam and Steve, playing Pool with Nat and getting his ass kicked, he can taste the cheap beer on his tongue for a moment. If only.

Part 3

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