The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Sixteen: The Hurt

Mara stared at Bucky, feeling the mood in the room shift into something unfamiliar. His face had gone pale, and he was staring at the table. His hands were clasped again, flesh over metal.

"What?" Mara asked.

"I- I just ask that you let me explain. And then whatever you want me to do after I have told you everything, I will do it."

"Should I be afraid?" she asked, straightening and glancing around the room. Knives on the counter, but they were closer to him than to her. Baseball bat leaning against the couch, she could probably beat him to it. Plus, his right arm was currently covered in bandaids. That glimmering metal arm warned her that he was still dangerous, even one handed, but at least she had some sort of advantage.

"Not of me," he said, looking up at her and shaking his head. "Not anymore."

"Just start talking," Mara said firmly. "Because you are currently scaring the shit out of me."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Bucky replied. He took another deep breath. "The first thing that you should know is that my name is James Barnes, not Wolfe."

Mara felt her eyes get larger with shock. She bit her cheek, forcing herself to stay quiet.

"I- now this part is going to sound insane but I swear I have proof, I was born in 1917. I served in World War Two, with the Howling Commandos. I was captured by the Nazis' scientific division, Hydra," he said quickly, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to get it out in time. "When I was captured, Hydra tried to use their own version of the Captain America serum on me. They wanted to create their own supersoldier, but the technology was so dangerous that they only used it on POWs," he continued. He looked at Mara, his eyebrows knit. "You aren't freaked out?" He asked.

"I'm keeping a lid on it for now," Mara said with forced calmness. "Hurry up and get to the point, Barnes," she added. He grimaced and nodded.

"Anyways, their serum worked, for the most part. It kept me alive while they did their best to brainwash me. Not the seventies stuff with drugs. Actual brainwashing, with electroshock therapy and-" he stopped and took a deep breath. Mara noticed that his right hand was shaking. "Anyways, they alternated between beating the shit out of me and freezing me for twenty years until James Barnes was as good as dead. They made me into a killer, the Winter Soldier."

Mara stiffened at that name. She recognized it from the news. Terrorist attacks and presidential pardons and Avengers-level messes.

"I- I don't know how to explain it other than that I was sitting in the passenger seat of a car that the Winter Soldier was driving, and even though I could see everything that he did I couldn't do anything to stop him," Bucky rubbed his eyes and Mara could see that he was in pain. However at the moment she didn't care. She had a sinking suspicion as to why he was here, and she desperately wanted to be wrong. "Every time I tried to stop him I got another round of brainwashing and was frozen until they needed him to kill someone again,"

"Why are you telling me this?" Mara asked, her voice trembling. Please God don't let it be the reason I think you are. God, don't do this to me.

"When Hydra fell, Steve- Captain America, he helped me break through Hydra's programming. He helped me remember who I was, what had happened to me, what I had done." Bucky raked his metal hand through his hair. "I've been trying to find people who were hurt by the Winter Soldier. Help them, tell them the truth." He looked up at her with those hollow eyes. She realized there were tears in them.

"Bucky, why are you telling me this?" she repeated.

"In August of 2011-" he began. Mara stood up and backed away from him, knocking her chair to the ground in her hurry to put some distance between herself and the killer at her kitchen table.

"No," she whispered.

"Mara, I'm so sorry," he said simply.

"No," she pleaded. "No, please don't tell me- oh God!" She felt the air leave her lungs and collapsed to the ground. Bucky stood up and tried to take a step towards her, but she held up her hand, stopping him. He stood there and watched as she began to cry. "No!" she wailed, hand over her heart. "No, no, no!"

Bucky crouched down, but remained at arm's length. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, and was enraged to see that he was crying too.

"Don't!" she yelled. "Don't you dare mourn him!" He stared at her, his mouth a thin hard line. "Why did you come into our lives? Why did you have to make us get to know you only for you to tell me this?" she demanded. "Damn you, Bucky, why?"

"I wanted to help," he explained. "I wanted to help you and Nonna and I wasn't sure how to do that. I didn't expect her to welcome me in, didn't plan on it. But then I was here and it felt," he rubbed his face, "it felt right," he admitted.

"Get out," she hissed.

He looked at her, frozen.

"I said get out!" she repeated, standing up. She shoved him, and he scrambled to his feet. "Get out!" she cried, hitting him wildly. He backed out of the room, his hands raised in surrender. "Leave, and never come back," she ordered him.

"I'm so sorry, Mara," he said quietly.

"Sorry doesn't bring Alex back!" she managed to say through her tears. "Sorry doesn't change what you did! Get out!" She snatched the bat from next to the sofa and held it threateningly.

Bucky opened the door and stepped back into the hallway, Mara still forcing him out from the home that she had so stupidly let him into. As soon as his foot cleared the stoop she slammed the door in his face and locked it. As she sank to the ground and began to sob she heard his footsteps retreating.

Once she was sure that he was gone, she grabbed a pillow from the couch and rushed to the roof. As soon as she was up there she placed the pillow over her face and let out a gut wrenching scream. All she could see was Alex's face. Bloody, bruised, beaten to death by a killer that she let into her home.

Alex, what had Alex suffered? Had he been killed quickly, painlessly? Or had it been a slow and excruciating death? Had his last thought been of Nonna? Mara? Praying that the man with the metal arm wouldn't come after them? Had he been watching them from above, screaming at Mara not to trust his killer, not to allow Nonna to befriend the man that took him away from them?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Mara cried, beating the sides of her head, clawing at her arms. She had been so careful, and yet she had still betrayed Alex. Betrayed his memory. She had let his killer into their lives, she had bandaged his wounds for God's sake! Fed him, drank with him, and the whole time Alex's blood was on his hands, smeared all over their apartment.

Mara curled up into a ball on the ground, the gravel on the roof digging into her skin, hurting her, punishing her. She should have taken every shard of glass and buried it deep into Bucky's skin. Bashed him over the head. Clawed his eyes out. Something, anything was better than just crying and telling him to leave. How could she be so weak? How could she be so foolish? How could she be so blind?