I started this fic with the intention of posting it in time for Halloween - last year. And now Halloween's coming around again and I just can't bear to have this fic still sitting in my WIP folder haunting me. It's not completely finished so I know it's stupid of me to start posting but I need to be done with it, so if you like it/want to read more of it, please reply/reblog and leave some love (or poke me with a sharp stick) to encourage me to finish this friggin thing some time before New Years. xoxox
Bucky shivered in the death-like embrace of cryostasis, his breath curling into mist before his unfocused eyes. The walls of his frozen prison fell away and a man holding a red book spoke words that cut into his brain and scrambled it about. Bucky struggled against the restraints, begging the man to make the pain in his head stop...
“Please! Don’t make me hurt anyone else!” Bucky screamed, thrashing wildly as he was wrenched from his nightmare. He scrambled backwards, pressing his back against the wall as he forced his terrified gasps to become slow measured breaths. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, and then he had to repeat it to himself until he believed it.
He wasn’t with HYDRA anymore. He wasn’t the Asset. He was Bucky Barnes and he was in his room on the 63rd floor of Avengers Tower. On the floor of the wardrobe in his bedroom to be exact.
Bucky wiped a hand over his face and groaned, ashamed of his coping mechanisms. He swatted irritably at a pair of pants hanging in front of him before sliding the wardrobe door open and crawling out. He lay down on the floor, ignoring the itch of the carpet on his sweaty back, and stared up at the ceiling wondering, not for the first or last time, what the hell was wrong with him.
He’d been in Avengers “custody” for almost two months after breaking free of HYDRA’s control in D.C. and he’d thought he’d been getting better. He’d been interrogated every day in those first few weeks, and had been a frequent visitor to the medical labs after that. Bucky hated it but he cooperated as best he could, though the med labs still made him understandably anxious. The medical team, led by Dr Banner, had flushed out all the crap HYDRA had put in his system and gave him a staggering amount of “good” drugs to counteract the damage they’d done until all his test results came back normal. As normal as a super soldier could hope to be, at least.
He’d finished Dr Banner’s treatment regimen a little over a week ago, just before Steve reluctantly left on a mission. Since then, Bucky hadn’t felt comfortable – alone in the apartment, or in his own skin. The space was too big and too bright, so Bucky spent most days locked in his bedroom with the windows at maximum opacity. And it was too hot. It was the middle of November and it was too damn hot. He’d had JARVIS turn off the heating in his room and it still hadn’t felt right. He’d tried to get JARVIS to bring the temperature down even lower but the AI couldn’t be swayed.
Part of him was glad that Steve wasn’t there to see him like this. If he had been, Steve would have made Bucky go back down to medical and get checked out. Bucky knew he should have taken himself down there, should have spoken to Dr Banner, but he feared the answer; he missed being under HYDRA’s control. He missed the confined space and the cold of the cryo tube, he missed the comforting safety that could be found behind the darkness of his mask. He craved the familiar so much that he’d taken to sleeping on the floor of his wardrobe, the smallest, darkest enclosed space he had access to, when being awake became too damn exhausting. He didn’t want to admit that to anyone. And he sure as hell didn’t want to admit that none of that explained the growing pit in his stomach, the hunger for something indescribable that food couldn’t sate. It was unnerving at best, terrifying at worst.
Bucky swore to himself that he’d go to the med bay first thing in the morning, but that still left 5hrs to kill and Bucky was in desperate need of some sleep. He took a cold shower to try and get his body temperature down, and whilst it took the edge off it still wasn’t enough. Bucky grumbled to himself as he quickly towelled off and threw on a pair of cotton pyjama pants for modesty’s sake before, after a few seconds hesitation, leaving the confines of the apartment without Steve as his shadow for the first time.
He wandered down empty, dimly lit hallways and took the elevator to the communal level a few floors up. His plan was to stand out on the balcony for a few minutes and let the winter air seep into his bones so he’d feel ‘normal’ again and rest easier. His plan was abandoned the moment he realised he wasn’t alone.
There was a woman standing in the kitchen, oblivious to his presence. She had her hair piled high and wore only an oversized shirt which left one shoulder bared to his gaze. She raised a hand and pushed her black rimmed glasses up with the back of her wrist before returning to her food prep with a yawn.
Darcy Lewis – 26 – Laboratory Manager, his mind supplied helpfully. He’d been given access to the profiles of every tower resident for his own peace of mind, as they were no doubt given a briefing packet on him, how best to avoid him, and how to stay safe in case he ‘snapped’. Darcy wasn’t the type to avoid him though, if anything he’d heard from Steve was accurate; she was friendly with everyone and ploughed through awkward silences with nonstop chatter. Bucky was halfway across the room before he realised he was gravitating towards her instead of the doors to the large open-air entertaining area. He felt drawn to the warmth of the kitchen and as it overrode his strange, unnatural need for the cold he followed that instinct instead. A part of him thought it was just the smell of baking bread, but another part thought it might have been the woman. She was undeniably pretty, even dishevelled and half asleep.
As Bucky got closer he saw that she had moved on from baking and was currently slicing up and placing various combinations of fruits and vegetables into plastic containers for later use. He opened his mouth to announce his presence but his accursed arm beat him to it, his metal elbow connecting with a glass bowl. The resulting sound startled Darcy so much she leapt back with a yelp only to swear loudly and clutch her hand a second later. Bucky raced forward, apologies spewing forth, but anything said after that was lost on him as the world was leached of all colour and sound until all that existed was the trickle of rich crimson running down a pale finger and the throb of his heartbeat.
Darcy raised the finger to her mouth in an attempt to stem the blood flow and Bucky felt himself harden at the sight, the first desirous reaction he could remember having in seventy odd years. He watched as she removed the finger from her mouth with a wince, his cold, dark eyes lingering on her bloodstained lips. The blood began to pool and Darcy made to put it in her mouth again but Bucky’s metal hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist to stop her. He could feel her eyes on him but he couldn’t pull his gaze from her wound. He stepped forward, wrapped his lips around the digit, and groaned, his eyes falling shut as the sharp taste of her blood hit his tongue. He barely registered Darcy’s gasps and her weak attempts to break free of his clutches, but couldn’t ignore the way her heart raced and let out a pornographic moan at the thought of blood surging through her veins.
Bucky licked and sucked until the well, such as it was, ran dry and then his focus turned to her quivering lips. His kiss was an attack, all teeth and tongue, as he ravenously rid her mouth of every last trace of her delicious, intoxicating blood. With her head in his hands he could feel the fluttering of her pulse through the sensors in his metal hand and his lips followed the path of her carotid artery down the smooth column of her throat until he could feel it on his tongue. He grazed his teeth across the spot thinking of the torrents of blood trapped behind the thin layer of skin. He knew that his teeth weren’t sharp enough to puncture the flesh easily; he’d have to rip her throat out to gain access to her life force and find the peace he’d been craving.
Bucky lost himself for a moment as he imagined being covered in arterial spray, growling as he dragged his teeth across her pulse point again. He bit down, just a little bit, and finally registered the fingernails clawing at his shoulders and heard the fearful shrieks of the woman struggling to escape his embrace.
Suddenly all Bucky could see was the cold body of Stark’s favourite gopher lying in his arms, every surface in the kitchen painted blood red. Bucky recoiled in terror, throwing himself against the opposite counter. He tried to shake off the mental image but he couldn’t ignore the hunger he felt. He curled in on himself, howling at his own monstrosity as he tugged violently at his hair.
“Bucky?” a timid voice called.
“Run,” he growled lowly.
“Bucky, are you okay?” Darcy asked, foolishly moving within arm’s reach of the monster who would devour her.
“RUN!” Bucky roared, lunging after the startled lab manager, effectively chasing her out of the room. “Jarvis,” Bucky groaned, pulling himself up off the floor, the marble counter top threatening to crack under the grip of his metal hand.
“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”
“Put Darcy’s apartment on lockdown. She doesn’t come out of her room and no one goes in until Bruce or Tony say otherwise,” he ordered.
“Of course, Sergeant Barnes. Will there be anything else?”
“Tell Banner to get to his containment cell,” he ground out, forcing himself to move in the opposite direction to Darcy.
“But Dr Banner is not in need of containment at this time. All of his vitals are well within normal range.”
“It’s not for him,” Bucky snarled, stumbling into the elevator.
** *** **
Bruce groaned as his spartan bedroom was illuminated, forcing himself upright.
“JARVIS?” he called groggily. “What’s going on?”
“Apologies for waking you, Dr Banner, but Sergeant Barnes is in urgent need of your assistance.”
“Where is he?” Bruce demanded as he shoved his feet into a pair of shoes, the sudden panic waking him up better than caffeine ever could.
“In the Hulk containment unit, Dr Banner.”
“Shit.”
** *** **
Bucky was already curled up in a corner, rocking worryingly, when Bruce arrived. Bucky had locked himself in and, despite an instinct to rush in and help him, Bruce stayed on the other side of the door.
“Sergeant Barnes?” Bruce called through the intercom system.
Bucky froze at the sound of the doctor’s voice before curling in on himself even more, mumbling his response into his knees.
“I hurt Darcy.”
“Darcy? JARVIS?” Bruce called urgently to the ceiling. “Where’s Darcy? Is she okay?”
“Miss Lewis is currently locked in her room, at Sergeant Barnes’ request. There was a spike in her vitals five minutes ago but they are almost back within normal parameters.”
“What else?” Bruce demanded.
“Miss Lewis sustained a small cut on her finger from a kitchen accident after being startled by Sergeant Barnes but is otherwise unharmed.”
“She’s okay,” Bruce murmured breathing a sigh of relief. “Sergeant Barnes, Darcy’s okay,” he repeated through the intercom.
“No,” Bucky growled. “I hurt her.”
“JARVIS said she’s fine. You didn’t hurt her,” Bruce tried to reassure him.
“No!” Bucky roared, unfurling from his seated position and stalking towards the barrier. “I was going to rip out her throat,” he growled.
Bruce looked Bucky over and recoiled at the sight of his strange eyes, his pupils blown wide with hunger.
“Why?” Bruce asked quietly, shifting away from the barrier.
“I want her blood,” Bucky whined, pressing his forehead against the glass.
“You… you wanted her blood?”
“Want,” Bucky corrected. “It tastes so fucking good… I was going to rip her throat out to get it,” he admitted guiltily. “Sedate me,” he begged, his darkened gaze boring into Bruce’s soul.
“What? Barnes, no, let’s just -”
“No!” Bucky snarled, smacking his fist against the thick glass. “I was going to kill her. I want her blood, I want it… but I don’t want to… I can’t… You can’t let me hurt her,” Bucky pleaded.
“It won’t come to that,” Bruce tried to argue only to be overruled by the monster in the cage.
“Sedate me!” Bucky roared, punching the glass with his metal arm over and over again until it threatened to crack, spurring Bruce into action. He pressed three buttons in quick succession releasing a Hulk-sized dose of knockout gas into the cell. Bucky reeled back from the door as the gas began to take effect, disappearing into the mist that filled the room. Bruce waited anxiously for the tell-tale thud of a body hitting the floor before calling down to Medical for a gurney and their strongest restraints.
My tag list is hilariously outdated, and I’m sure a lot of you are more interested in Loki fics, so please let me know if you want on or off: @storylover92 @marveil @dreamdancer19 @thefangirl33 @anonanonfrances @contains-cinnamon @jackiattacki @sarabeth72 @hiddlestoncentral @annamegatron @angelus80 @dearmisterhiddles @writernotwaiting @ishoutmarcoandyoushout @hallotom @mrshiddelston @lolomonster @bellafagoaga1812 @stormieandateacup @beautifullydamned16 @hardtopickausername @lorrmorr @antyc67 @ladyninasayers-ish @ladymirtilla @marvelousmissfit @yoursophiebelle @xunconquerableheartx @iamwhoidecidetobe @tinaferraldo @larouau12 @hiddles-is-a-fallen-angel @lokilockedcougar @pollution-brown-eyes @loveshiddles4everme @mrsmalcontent @just-call-me-your-darling @inkededucatednnerdy @vampire-marie @whenweareallalone @captain-biryani @larouau12 @sweetsigyn @scarlettsoldier @mypreciousmind1 @wonderinthewoods @ohbvcks @echantedbytwh @omninocte @lucetheding
Sorry about the time between updates. I kind of... forgot. And I’m possibly avoiding finishing the next chapter... :/
The blackness began to spin around her. She could feel his hands upon her waist, his sharp stubble grazing against her cheek ever so lightly. The darkness was chased away by flickering candlelight and Darcy found herself in the middle of a crowded ballroom, her mysterious lover leading her in a waltz. Couples in ornate costumes danced and laughed as they spun around them but Darcy paid them no mind, captivated by her lover’s ice blue eyes. His arms tighten around her, pulling her close, his cold body leaching the warmth from hers as his eyes drifted to her lips. He pressed a single chaste kiss upon her plump lips before taking her chin in his hand, metal wrapped in black silk, and turned her head to expose her throat. Darcy’s chest heaved in anticipation, her ample bosom threatening to spill from the scandalous neckline of her blood-red gown as his lips chased her veins down the smooth column of her neck. She braced herself for the pain, her fingers digging into his shoulders, before losing herself in the ecstasy of his embrace...
“Bucky,” Darcy sighed, rousing from sleep. She blinked in the bright fluorescent lights until her eyes settled on the smirking visage of Bruce Banner. “I’m not dead,” she posited, though currently wished she was - bullets would have been so much faster than mortification.
“You’re not dead,” he agreed as he watched her take in her surroundings, though there wasn’t much of note in the sterile recovery room. Her brow creased in confusion as she took stock of her injuries and Bruce mentally prepared the answers to her questions.
“I’m not in pain,” she mused, staring at the IV in her arm. “But I don’t feel loopy or anything. Stark really must have the good shit, huh?”
“Those are just fluids,” Bruce said, pointing at the clear liquid in the drip. “You’re, uh…. You’re not actually on any pain meds.”
“Why not? I mean, I should be in pain, right? I didn’t imagine getting shot,” she rambled, her hands frantically pulling on her hospital gown.
“Easy,” Bruce cooed, taking her trembling hands in his as he took a seat on the edge of her bed.
“What happened?” Darcy demanded anxiously.
“What do you remember?” Bruce countered.
Darcy huffed with irritation but humoured her doctor. “I was at the observatory in Chile. These assholes came in looking for Jane. I called Tony for help. The calvary turned up and the lead asshole got super pissed with me and he… and he shot me,” Darcy winced at the memory.
“You took three bullets to the stomach,” Bruce continued for her, squeezing her hands in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “We got you out of there and were on our way to the nearest hospital when some military jets pulled up alongside us and demanded we get out of their airspace. You, uh, you were in a real bad way and we didn’t like your chances if we had to find a different hospital. So we removed the bullets and gave you a blood transfusion in the air. That was about four hours ago.”
“What? I don’t…” Darcy faltered as she tried to make sense of what Bruce was telling her, and what he wasn’t. “Bucky?”
Bruce nodded. Darcy’s pulled her hands away and Bruce helped her hitch up her hospital gown. Her stomach had three patches of gauze taped over it and one by one Bruce pulled them aside to reveal her life threatening injuries were now nothing more than angry red scars.
“I gave you a blood transfusion in the air - Bucky was the donor,” Bruce clarified. “Your body absorbed the serum and after a few minutes began to heal itself, just as we’d hoped, though we’re not sure how else it might affect you. You’ve retained some regenerative capabilities, obviously, and I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of enhanced strength and agility, especially if you were to push your limits in the gym.”
“So, that’s a big fat “no” on super strength,” Darcy smirked much to Bruce’s amusement. “But what about the other thing?”
“Well, so far I’m not seeing any indication that your genetic code has been mutated, but we’ll monitor you for any signs that you’ve inherited Sergeant Barnes’ more, uh, animalistic tendencies. Regardless, I’m hoping now that you have the same super serum in your blood it will improve the efficacy of his weekly injections.”
“He’s still affected?”
“Yes, Darcy, he’s… your blood’s always going to have an affect on him. I’m still not sure why but I’m going to keep looking for a permanent solution, but you don’t have to worry, okay? We’re going to do everything we can to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”
“But I can’t get hurt.”
“...what?”
“I’ve got regenerative capabilities,” she reminded him.
“So…?”
“So, you’re saying that because of our compatibility on some gross genetic, bodily fluid level I am literally Bucky’s ‘own personal brand of heroin’. And because of my newly acquired regenerative capabilities I am pretty much a spoonful of heroin that is never going to run out, right?”
“Uh, well… that’s a really strange way to put it, but uh, yes, that’s right.”
“In that case, how soon can I get out of here?”
“What? Darcy, you’re recovering from a serious medical procedure – we need to keep you under observation for at least 48hrs.”
“Aw, Bruce, can’t you just rubber stamp me?” Darcy whined.
“Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here?”
“Because there’s a really cute super soldier out there who’s been avoiding me, and I was really looking forward to showing him that he doesn’t have to anymore.”
“Are you sure that a smart idea? Just because you can’t see any sharks in the water doesn’t mean you should get out of the shark cage.”
“That’s a terrible analogy, doc.”
“Like yours was any better,” Bruce sassed.
“Mine was a literary reference. It’s not my fault you didn’t get it.”
“Darcy,” Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t think you should be taking such a risk, or that Sergeant Barnes would appreciate you testing the limits of his control.”
“He saved my life, Bruce, but I guarantee he still considers himself a monster. And he’s really, really cute.”
Bruce was sympathetic, really he was, but in the end he kept Darcy the full 48hrs, checking her blood work and running a variety of tests every 12hrs. All of the Avengers stopped by at some point, except Bucky. Steve brought her a book and an apologetic smile. Tony gave her a raise and filled her room with expensive floral arrangements. Clint, her favourite, managed to sneak in her favourite iced coffee concoction and a large pizza. Natasha, her true favourite, brought an overnight bag full of comfy clothes, essential toiletries, and a pack of cards. She stayed for an hour or so, ruthlessly destroying her at Go Fish, pointedly not talking about Bucky until it was time for her to leave.
“I think that’s enough suffering for one night,” Natasha smirked, “You need your rest.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Are you going to see Barnes?”
“If he hasn’t already disappeared back upstate,” she grumbled.
“He hasn’t. Steve’s told him they’re not leaving until he grows a pair and talks to you. Barnes, the stubborn bastard, thinks he can wait him out. At least until Hill calls them back upstate. I’ll make sure Hill doesn’t make that call for another twelve hours after Bruce clears you.”
“Thanks Nat,” Darcy smiled.
“You’re welcome, milaya,” Natasha smiled back, kissing the top of her head before making off with her gummy candy winnings.
Darcy dimmed the lights but sleep wouldn’t come; she couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. She held an arm in front of her face, tracing the veins visible through her pale skin.
Bucky was probably disappointed she hadn’t become a better version of herself the way Steve had when he’d gotten the serum, Darcy thought morosely. She recalled Dr Banner’s thoughts on her potential and tried to picture herself kicking ass and taking names and snorted. Call her a pessimist but she believed the best she could hope to accomplish would be being able to lug Jane’s heavy equipment around without hurting herself.
Maybe if the transfusion had infected me with vampirism too, she sighed, maybe then Bucky wouldn’t be so scared to be around me.
“Whatever,” she huffed, rolling over in her uncomfortable hospital bed. She was still going to talk to him, to thank him at least.
My tag list is hilariously outdated, and I’m sure a lot of you are more interested in Loki fics, so please let me know if you want on or off.
If it's not obvious, I'm not remotely knowledgeable in any medical or scientific fields so I hope you can suspend your disbelief and accept my vague explanation of Bucky's condition as "HYDRA mad science" and continue reading. <3
“Bucky?”
“…Darcy…”
“Darcy’s fine, Buck. She’s worried about…”
“…wrong with him?”
“We can’t be sure, but… HYDRA…
“…genetic experimentation… “
“…mutated DNA…”
“…be reversed?”
“No…”
** *** **
Bucky recognised the unmistakable smell of a hospital room before his addled mind realised he was in one. The ceiling and walls were painted white and in pristine condition, rather than the more ominous water-stained industrial concrete he was more familiar with. It would have boded well for him if it weren’t for the numerous restraints pinning him to the bed.
“Bucky, calm down! You’re safe!” a familiar voice pleaded as Bucky struggled to free himself.
“Steve?”
“I’m here, Buck.”
“What happened?” he demanded groggily.
“What do you remember?” Steve gently prodded.
Bucky thought about the question for a second before slumping back against on the bed. “Everything,” he muttered, unable to meet Steve’s concerned eyes. “Darcy’s okay?”
“Yeah, she’s okay. A little freaked out, but I think she’s more worried about you than anything else.”
“She should forget about me. And you should have stuck me back in cryo.”
“That’s not going to happen, Bucky.”
They were spared from continuing their well-worn argument by the appearance of Dr Banner. He was closely followed by Tony Stark, who loitered in the doorway, looking at the restrained super soldier with his default amused expression.
“It’s good to see you awake, Sergeant Barnes,” Bruce greeted with a small smile.
“Why didn’t you keep me under? It’s only been 24hrs, Doc,” Bucky replied tersely without needing to glance at a clock.
“The gas should have knocked you on your ass for about a week but your body’s metabolism has been hyper accelerated and burned through it in record time. Even taking that into account, we couldn’t risk giving you more sedatives without knowing how they would react with what’s already in your system.”
“I could have handled it,” he muttered.
“Well, I’m your doctor and I decided against it.”
“Probably a mistake,” Tony mumbled under his breath. Everyone in the room heard it but elected to ignore him.
“So… what the hell’s wrong with me?”
“You’re a vampire,” Tony replied merrily.
“He’s not a vampire, Tony. Vampires are fictional,” Bruce sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose as was habit when he was dealing with the genius, billionaire, etc etc.
“Oh, come on, Bruce! He literally said he wanted her blood. All he needs is the bad European accent. Oh wait, HYDRA gave him, like, ten of those!”
“He’s not a vampire!” Bruce shot back, the device on his wrist warning him he was getting a little too worked up. Tony held up his hands in surrender and took a small step back.
“If I’m not a vampire, then what the fuck’s wrong with me?” Bucky snapped irritably.
“Buck, HYDRA did something to you…” Steve started.
Bucky rolled his eyes. Of course they fucking did.
“We’re not sure what exactly, we’re still running tests,” Bruce added. “But it seems that along with giving you a bastardised version of the serum they also altered your DNA in an effort to make you, for lack of a better phrase, a better killing machine. My working theory is that it didn’t work the way they wanted…”
Bucky flinched as memories of mangled bodies in formerly white lab coats came to the forefront of his mind, visions of a handler with his throat ripped out, the sight of guards running from him, their erratic pulses drumming in his ears, attracting his attention like fleeing rabbits to a greyhound.
“… they couldn’t remove the faulty sequence, so they injected you with chemical compounds meant to inhibit the undesirable aspects of the mutation. So when we flushed out your system we also unknowingly removed the inhibitors.”
“Cue the bloodlust,” Tony concluded.
“So, on that terrifying note,” Bruce sighed. “I’d like to test something, if that’s alright with you?”
Bucky nodded numbly. He watched Dr Banner pull a vial of blood from his pocket. Steve threw an arm over his chest protectively – no – in preparation to hold him down if he reacted badly.
“JARVIS, you’re recording on all fronts?” Tony asked his AI.
“Ready when Dr Banner is, sir.”
Bruce pulled the stopper from the vial and held it out towards Bucky. His pulse quickened, his pupils dilated, and he clenched his hands, stomping down on the urge to reach for it. He wanted it, that much was obvious, but when he had no other reaction after a few minutes Bruce put the stopper back in and pocketed it.
“Okay, vial two…”
The moment the stopper was removed Bucky thrashed against his restraints.
“Darcy!” he growled, more animal than man. “I want it!” he roared, fighting against Steve’s hold on him as the restraints threatened to break. “Give it to me!”
Bruce pushed the stopper back in and shoved the vial into Tony’s hands, forcing him out of the room and slamming the door shut in his face.
“JARVIS! Scrub the air!” Bruce shouted over Bucky’s wailing.
With every second that passed Bucky calmed down considerably, and by the time the air was completely clean he was back to normal but looking more ashamed of his actions than ever before.
A rapping of knuckles against glass drew their attention to the door.
“I don’t like being handed things,” Tony reminded them, passing the vial he was already holding at arm’s length to a passing nurse. He made for the door handle but Bruce held it shut.
“You can’t come back in without being decontaminated, Tony.”
“What?” Tony bristled.
“You might trigger another reaction,” Bruce explained simply, pinching the bridge of his nose as Tony reacted as only Tony could, storming off muttering about doing something useful like increasing security. “So,” Bruce sighed to his patient. “I think the results kind of speak for themselves. You and Darcy share a rare blood type, and what I tested her against was another tower resident with the same blood type. Whilst you did have a reaction to the first vial it paled in comparison to the second. I’m not sure why you would be fixated on her blood specifically, might be some sort of… genetic compatibility,” Bruce offered uncertainly. “We’ll need to run -”
“- more tests. I know,” Bucky muttered bitterly.
“We’ll be keeping you under observation while we run the tests. We can keep the room on lockdown in between so I’d be okay with removing the restraints…”
“No,” Bucky replied firmly.
“Buck…”
“No, Steve. I’m dangerous.”
I’m a monster.
Bruce ran every test he could think of over the next week, including several more ‘which would you rather’ scent tests. It didn’t matter what he did, how he tampered with the sample, how he diluted it, Bucky always knew which one was Darcy’s and reacted the same as he did the first time, every time.
At the end of the fourth day Bruce entered Bucky’s room with a syringe filled with ominous-looking black liquid.
“I’ve been going back through all your original blood work trying to recreate the inhibitors that HYDRA was giving you,” he explained.
“You figured it out, Doc?”
“Want to try it and see?”
Bucky nodded, ignoring Steve’s concerned look.
Bruce injected the solution into Bucky’s IV and waited for it to be fully absorbed into his system before pulling a vial of blood from his lab coat pocket. He pulled the stopper and held it out to Bucky, who glared at the vial accusingly before crinkling his nose in confusion.
“Nothing?” Bruce asked hopefully. Bucky shook his head. “Alright…” he murmured anxiously, switching vials. The moment the stopper was pulled Bucky groaned and thrashed against his restraints in frustration.
“Shit,” he growled, trying to hide his face from the disappointed looks he imagined were pointing his way.
“Well, that’s a marked improvement,” Bruce noted happily.
“It’s not good enough. I still want it.”
“It’s a start, Sergeant Barnes. We’ll just -”
“Keep running tests. Yeah, yeah…”
By the end of the week Bruce had developed a solution that inhibited Bucky’s reaction to all blood bar Darcy’s, and even that had been brought down from ‘uncontrollable, ravenous hunger’ to a ‘mild longing’. New tower-wide protocols were put in place to lockdown any room Darcy was in should she ever injure herself, and JARVIS, at Bucky’s insistence, would run interference between the two and ensure they never ran into each other. Bruce was satisfied with Bucky’s treatment and confident with the new safety measures, enough that he suggested that Bucky could be discharged from the medical ward. Bucky (and Tony) argued against it, but Steve wouldn’t hear of it and practically dragged his friend towards the nearest elevator.
“A hot shower, a decent meal, and a good night’s sleep,” Steve listed off as he herded Bucky into the apartment. “You’ll be feeling like your old self in no time.” Bucky pushed past him, ignoring Steve’s suggestions in favour of hiding in his room.
“Lock it down, JARVIS.”
Steve sighed as the door was closed in his face, loitering for a few seconds as he deliberated invading Bucky’s space so they could talk, but that hadn’t worked out so well all the other times he’d tried it during the week. He sighed and headed to the kitchen to fix himself some dinner, setting aside a second plate, just in case.
** *** **
Bucky lay awake on his bed for three hours before conceding defeat and returning to the comforting claustrophobia of his wardrobe. He managed to sleep for almost an hour before the nightmares of his bloodstained past were drowned out by a familiar rhythm.
When he awoke, his hands reaching instinctively for solid walls, he was confused to find that the sound was still there, calling to him like his favourite song. It took him a moment to remember where he’d first heard it.
Darcy…
** *** **
Steve woke with a start, immediately noticing the absence of a second presence in the apartment.
“JARVIS, where the hell is Bucky?” Steve demanded, pulling on a pair of pants.
“Sergeant Barnes is on the 61st floor.”
“Dammit,” he cursed, racing for the door. “You were supposed to warn me if Bucky went after Darcy,” he growled.
“Apologies Captain Rogers, but your exact request was to inform you should Sergeant Barnes be determined to be in the same room as Miss Lewis, despite warnings to the contrary, and as far as I have been able to discern he is not. He is currently sitting outside her apartment. Miss Lewis’ upgraded security protocols remain in place and Sergeant Barnes has made no attempts to draw her out.”
Steve faltered for a split second, absorbing JARVIS’ intel, before reaching for the emergency stairwell door and taking the stairs down, one flight at a time. He ran down a hallway, threw a right, and found Bucky exactly where JARVIS said he would be; sitting in front of Darcy’s door. His head was pressed up against it as his metal fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee.
“Buck…” Steve called, approaching cautiously. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to be near her,” he whispered, reaching out to touch Darcy’s door with his metal hand. “I’ve tasted her, she’s in my veins now,” he added lowly, his eyes looking far beyond Steve. His fingers began tapping out the same rhythm as before; two quick beats, over and over. “Wherever I am I can still hear her heartbeat. It drowns out the words in my head.” His faraway smile shattered and his arms shot out, yanking Steve forward by his shirt. “I don’t wanna hurt her, Stevie. Don’t let me hurt her,” he begged, tears welling up in his pale eyes.
“You’re not gonna hurt her, Bucky. You wouldn’t.”
“I’m a monster,” he recoiled with a hiss.
“No, Buck. A monster wouldn’t have told her to run and then gone and locked himself away from her. A monster wouldn’t be worried about hurting her. A monster would have broken down her door already. You’re a good man, Bucky.”
Bucky snorted and shook his head. “I don’t wanna be a good man around her,” he confessed. “Her blood sings to me like a goddamn siren, and I can’t keep resisting it. I’m not strong enough. She makes me weak, Stevie.”
“We’ll figure something out, Buck.”
Bucky shook his head more aggressively. “You gotta get me away from her, that’s the only way she’ll be safe. I can’t be around her,” he said, even as he leant against her door sighing longingly.
“How about I take you back upstairs and we talk about this some more?” Steve suggested, backing away from Darcy’s door, holding out his hand to his friend, begging him to follow. He couldn’t help but sigh with relief when Bucky took it and followed him back to their apartment.
Steve tried to discuss other options with Bucky but he refused to hear them, restlessly pacing in his room muttering to himself in between arguments, so Steve ignored the late hour and had JARVIS contact Bruce and Tony to make the required arrangements. A few hours later he and Bucky arrived at the upstate facility just as the sun appeared on the horizon.
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Darcy threw off her blankets in a huff of irritation. She slipped out of bed and walked out onto the balcony, sighing as the winter air kissed her skin. She froze, feeling eyes on her, and gazed out over the gardens. There was a man, tall and dark, face half hidden behind his shoulder length hair, standing at the entrance to the hedge maze, his ice blue eyes fixed on her. Darcy gasped and the stranger turned, disappearing into the maze. There was no choice to be made: she had to follow him.
Darcy ran downstairs and through the gardens, her virginal white nightgown billowing silently behind her. She stepped into the maze, the grass cold and wet on her bare feet, and after losing her quarry in the twists and turns of the verdant labyrinth found herself in a graveyard shrouded in fog. It curled around her ankles, pulling her in.
She wandered alone and confused between the rows of headstones, trying to ignore the stern expressions of the marble sentries that loomed over her. She stopped before a sarcophagus, strangely free of any ornamentation. It was watched over by a stone angel, its expression twisted in agony as half its skin had been flayed from its body, the exposed bones glinting in the moonlight. There was a name carved into the heavy lid and Darcy knew it was her own. She moved to run her fingers over the familiar letters but the feeling of warm breath against the back of her neck stilled her hand. Fingers, one set infinitely colder than the other, ran down the length of her arms before settling around her waist and pulling against his firm chest. Darcy turned into his embrace and faced her death.
“Bucky,” she sighed as he laid her down atop the sarcophagus, her pulse quickening as he crawled over her, an animalistic growl building in his chest.
“Bucky,” she begged as he settled between her thighs, pushing her suddenly blood red nightgown until it pooled at her waist.
“Bucky,” she gasped as he pressed into her, moaning in desirous anguish as he pulled out completely before thrusting back into her, knocking the breath from her lungs as he kept her entombed between the hard planes of his body and the solid stone beneath her.
As Darcy felt her climax building her silent lover wrapped his metal hand around her throat, the weapon applying just the right amount of pressure to make Darcy see stars. And just as her orgasm threatened to break he turned her head, bared his teeth, and lunged.
“Bucky!” Darcy called out in the darkness of her room as her imaginary orgasm woke her. “Shit,” she groaned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
It had been two months since Bucky disappeared in the night, he and Steve relocating to the not-quite-finished upstate facility, leaving Darcy feeling even more guilty and confused than she already was. As far as Darcy was aware, prior to the compound being finished and filling with SHIELD agents and Stark techs, Bruce had been their only regular visitor, bringing with him Bucky’s latest don’t-kill-Darcy injection. He asked Darcy down to his labs every few days to draw more blood to use in his ever improving solution, and for now it was stopping Bucky from going ‘full Lestat’ as Tony liked to called it. Darcy wasn’t a huge fan of needles but she did it without complaint. Anything for Bucky, she’d think before quickly quashing the thought.
Darcy sighed and shifted in bed, trying and failing to forget about the wetness between her thighs. She guiltily rubbed one out to thoughts of Bucky fucking her in a crypt and then stared at the ceiling hating herself for a solid ten minutes. She reached out and swiped her phone off the bedside table to check the time - barely 5am - before opening her messages, her thumb hovering over the name she couldn’t stop crying out in her sleep.
It had taken her the better part of the week to ask JARVIS for Bucky’s number, and another day before she gathered the nerve to send him a message.
DL: Hi, it’s Darcy. I hope you’re okay.
It was an excruciatingly long hour before she got a reply.
JBB: I’m fine. I’m really sorry about what happened.
DL: Nothing to forgive. ;) I’m glad that you’re doing okay.
It was another two weeks before Darcy found a legitimate reason to contact him again.
DL: Bruce said something went wrong with the last batch. Are you okay?
JBB: I’m fine. Stop worrying about me.
DL: Shit. I’m making it worse, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.
JBB: No. It’s not that, Darcy. It’s just been a real bad day.
JBB: You texting me isn’t making it worse. I just don’t understand why you’re doing it.
JBB: Smart girls like you should know to stay away from monsters like me.
DL: You’re not a monster. What happened wasn’t your fault.
JBB: Why do people keep saying that?
DL: Probably because it’s true.
Darcy didn’t get a reply after that but a little past two the following morning he’d called her, still reeling from a brutal nightmare. He’d begged her, sobbing into the phone, to tell him she was okay, that she was alive, that he hadn’t really ripped her limb from limb like his nightmare had rather convincingly suggested. It damn near broke her heart.
Bucky was haunted by the terrible things he’d done in the past, and was terrified of the terrible things he was still capable of. He’d banished himself from the tower to protect her from his violent urges, urges coded into his DNA by HYDRA’s mad scientists, and Darcy, the real monster, couldn’t stop fantasising about it. Some nights he was all leather clad and broody, finding redemption in her vagina, other nights he was some ageless Romanian prince pledging his eternal love to her. And sometimes it was simply a rehash of the first night they met, his erection pressing against her stomach as he pinned her against her kitchen counter, his teeth biting into her neck.
Darcy threw her phone down in disgust and stormed into the bathroom to wash the sweat and shame from her body.
“You’re disgusting,” she sneered at her reflection, swiping angrily at the condensation on the mirror. She pushed all thoughts of Bucky from her mind and determinedly went about her morning routine. It was still early, and she’d much rather still be in bed – not thinking about Bucky, but she had a big day ahead of her. Jane had a day-long reservation at the Very Large Telescope in Chile, a reservation she’d made over a year ago, and she wasn’t going to let a pesky little thing like being off-world studying the wonders of the wider universe stop her from keeping it. So she sent Darcy.
Armed with her laptop and a notepad full of instructions in Jane’s chicken scratch, Darcy met up with her translator Antonella, a grad student from Universidad de Chile hoping to work with Jane one day, for breakfast before making the trip up the hill to the four very large telescopes via golf buggy.
They’d only been working for an hour, and only half way through the first page of Jane’s notes, when the sound of helicopters approaching ruined the quiet of the isolated observatory. It was soon followed by the sound of gunfire.
Darcy, Antonella, and the three technicians assisting them scrambled for the exit only to be herded back into the main room by men in black tactical gear wielding military grade weapons. They shoved the male technicians to the side, hitting one on the back of the head when he struggled, and focused on the three women, comparing their faces to the images on a tablet one of the goons was holding. The Head Goon dismissed the female technician, studied Antonella’s face for a few moments longer before dismissing her as well, and then he focused all of his attention on…
“Darcy Lewis.”
Darcy glared at him and fought to keep her trembling under control.
“Where is Jane Foster?”
“Doctor Foster,” Darcy instinctively corrected, regretting it the moment the Head Goon struck her in the stomach with the butt of his rifle.
“Where is Doctor Foster?” he asked with smirk in his voice.
“Not here. Obviously,” Darcy spat as Goon #2 pulled her to her feet.
“Where. Is. Doctor. Foster?” the Head Goon growled.
“She’s not here! She’s on Asgard, you idiot!” Darcy shouted back, earning a slap for her insolence.
“Asgard?” hissed Goon #3. “A year of planning and she’s not even fucking here?!”
Head Goon sighed, pulled out his sidearm, and shot Goon #3 without taking his eyes off Darcy.
“When did she go to Asgard?”
“About… about a month ago,” Darcy stammered, her eyes darting to the now lifeless body on the floor.
“When will she be back?”
“I don’t know. I swear I don’t,” she insisted when he tightened his grip on his gun.
“Do you have a way of communicating with her?”
“…no.” Darcy cursed her hesitation as the Head Goon raised his gun and aimed it in the general direction of the other hostages. Darcy blinked back tears, her voice wavering as she changed her answer. “Maybe.”
He placed his gun under her chin, tilting her head back until she was looking him in the eyes. “How?”
** *** **
Tony Stark was in the middle of reinventing his suit for the fourth time that week when JARVIS turned off his music.
“Sir, I have Miss Lewis on the line. She’s asking to speak with a Dr Edwards.”
“And who’s that?”
“That would be you, sir. It’s a security phrase that is part of Dr Foster’s safety protocols. It suggests that Miss Lewis is calling under duress”
“Our damsel’s in distress?”
“It would seem so, sir.”
“Put her through, trace the call, and pull up any video feeds from her location.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Edwards.”
“Hi Dr Edwards,” Darcy chirped as video footage of her being held hostage filled Tony’s workshop. “It’s Darcy. I need to get ahold of Jane. Can you help me out?”
“That might be a little difficult,” Tony drawled as he flicked through every available security feed counting bad guys. “She’s currently out of town.”
“I know, but it’s important. I’m at the VLT working through Jane’s instructions and, you know me, such a klutz, I spilt coffee on the last couple of pages. Jane’s going to be mega pissed if I don’t get all the readings she wanted so I’m going to need you to head down to her labs, switch on that doohickey she’s been working on and try and get a message to her. Just ask Thor to drop her off at the observatory for a bit. She’ll yell at me, she’ll geek out over the telescopes, and she’ll be back in the Realm Eternal before dinner.”
“Alright, Lewis. I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you so much, Dr Edwards. But please hurry. I’ve only got another hour here before they kick me out.”
“Understood. Stay close to your phone and keep an eye out for weird lights in the sky.”
“Will do.”
The call disconnected and Tony watched helplessly as Darcy was shoved to the ground and forced to huddle with the other civilians.
“JARVIS, find someone we can trust in local law enforcement and patch me through on a secure line. And brief Hill and Rogers on the situation. I want them in the air in five.”
My tag list is hilariously outdated, and I’m sure a lot of you are more interested in Loki fics, so please let me know if you want on or off. And I’m really sorry, I know one of you did ask to be taken off the list for this fic but it didn’t save and I no longer have your message in my inbox. Please send me another message and I’ll get it fixed up Nevermind I sent it to my queue instead of Drafts because I’m an idiot:
The call to assemble rang out through the upstate facility and Bucky raced to the locker room to get geared up. He dressed in his standard tactical gear, strapped various handguns and knives to his person, did a quick diagnostic on his arm, and picked out rifle.
“Bucky,” Steve called, waiting for the rest of the agents to file out of the room before continuing.
“What’s going on?”
“You might wanna sit this one out, Buck.”
“Why?”
“It’s Darcy…”
Bucky didn’t give Steve time to finish, putting his rifle back only to retrieve a bigger one.
“Come on, punk. We’re burnin’ daylight,” he grunted, shoving past his friend on his way towards the quinjet.
The Asset paid attention to the briefing, studied the security footage, even helped with the plan of attack, leaving Bucky free to worry about Darcy. His craving for her might have subsided but he still thought of her often. The first time he’d gotten a message from her he’d panicked, not that he let it show. If Steve knew that the object of his vampiric obsession was contacting him he’d be on the next quinjet back to the tower to scold her in his best Captain America voice and warn her off contacting him again. Bucky didn’t want that.
After their first stilted back and forth Bucky thought he wouldn’t hear from her again, but then, after a tweaked batch of Banner’s compound turned him into a snarling animal for the better part of a day (he hadn’t killed anybody, thank god, but he broke the ribs of a few newbie agents until he was knocked out by Steve and locked up until the solution burnt through his system) she’d contacted him again.
He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but he just didn’t understand why she would was bothering with him – why did she care? He was a monster.
DL: You’re not a monster. What happened wasn’t your fault.
JBB: Why do people keep saying that?
DL: Probably because it’s true.
He’d dreamt of her that night, a dream so horrifying that he woke screaming, tearing at his sheets as he struggled to free himself. Steve raced into his room and tried to comfort his best friend, but Bucky had to beg him to leave him alone; only one thing was going to calm him down. He’d called Darcy. He needed to hear her voice, to know she was alive, that he hadn’t hurt her. He needed to hear her heartbeat. He’d begged her, humiliated at how pathetic he must have sounded to her, but then…
He’d sighed, sinking down onto his mattress as all the tension in his body melted away.
“Just lie down and try to go back to sleep, okay? I’ll keep the line open,” she promised.
And so Bucky fell back to sleep, dreaming that it was her chest, not his pillow, that he was resting his head against.
The next morning he’d woken up with his phone beside his head, the line still open, just as Darcy had promised. He’d ended the call and sent her a quick text.
JBB: I’m sorry about last night.
JBB: Thank you.
He hadn’t expected a reply back so early in the morning, not after waking her up in the middle of the night, but when he came back to the apartment after his morning run there was a reply waiting for him.
DL: In case of emergencies…
DL: [Heartbeat.mp4]
Bucky downloaded the file and fell a little bit in love with her, the strange woman who befriended monsters, who cared about his well-being when anyone else in her shoes would have – should have – run. Like hell he was going to sit back twiddling his thumbs when she was in danger.
The quinjet had fallen silent after the briefing and Bucky’s anxiety began to spike. He pulled out an earbud from a pocket on his vest and focused on the sound of Darcy’s heartbeat, the rhythm keeping him grounded as he checked his weapons and got right with the idea that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill if it meant keeping Darcy safe.
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