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Summary: To agree with being a part of Erskine’s program Bucky asked for one thing, that Stevie be kept safe using one of Howard Stark’s newest inventions to be woken when they could fix the things that would take her away from him.

TITLE: Winter Soldier
RATING: R (for language and adult situations)
PAIRING: Bucky/Stevie, Bucky/Peggy, Bucky/Sharon, Bucky/Others
AUTHOR: Melanie
SUMMARY: To agree with being a part of Erskine’s program Bucky asked for one thing, that Stevie be kept safe using one of Howard Stark’s newest inventions to be woken when they could fix the things that would take her away from him.
DISCLAIMER: They are owned by Marvel, Disney, etc.

Winter Soldier 3/?

She won’t let him go, but to be fair Bucky hasn’t actually tried to let her go himself. She holds him and it takes him a bit to figure out that she’s crying.

Quiet sobs against his shoulder, she barely moves, doesn’t make a sound. He wouldn’t even be able to tell but she’s been crying long enough that it’s making his shoulder damp where she’s hiding her face.

He swings her up in his arms; she wraps her arms around his neck and continues to hide her face.

She’s so unbearably tiny, just like she’d been growing up. Just skin and bones and pale blond hair. There’s muscle there now from whatever they’d done to her.

A hand reaches out to touch her arm and he jerks away, tightening his grip on her.

“Captain Barnes,” Fury’s voice is gentle but laced with that thread of steel that his ma used to get, ‘Bucky Barnes you’ll listen to me right now, young man’.

He glares at the man, he could have just told him that Stevie was remembering stuff, it would have saved them lots of time and Stevie fighting her way through a couple of levels of men that she had no reason to believe didn’t want to hurt her.

“I’m not leaving her,” he says, they’ll have to take him down and pry her out of his arms; he guarantees he’ll fight them every single step of the way.

He should never have left her, should have told Erskine to shove his serum and stayed with her to the end. It probably wouldn’t have been long, Stevie was a fighter, there was no doubt about that, but it had been a hard winter and it’d taken her months to recover from the pneumonia.

She would have been at peace then, up there in heaven with her ma and dad. She wouldn’t have been frozen in some metal tube locked up and stolen away for doctors with delusions to make her into a weapon against her will, all because Bucky couldn’t bear to let her go.

“No one’s asking you to, son,” Fury says, Natasha is standing at his shoulder but she looks him directly in the eye and nods. If Fury steps wrong, Natasha will help him.


Stevie’s in a different room then the one that she’d been in before.

“There’s no mirrors,” Natasha says when they get there. Bucky’s sitting on the bed and Stevie’s curled up in a ball, head resting against his leg. “There’s no one watching, can’t promise there’s no listening devices though.”

“It’s not like there’s anything secret about me or Stevie,” he says, he runs a hand over Stevie’s head, smoothing her hair down. Her forehead is warm and clammy, like she’s running a low grade fever, he tries to not be alarmed because all Stevie’s sicknesses started with a little fever and then turned into her having to stand over boiling pots trying to force air into her lungs and cold compresses trying to bring her temperature down.

But she’s got a form of the serum if all the documents they’ve found can be trusted, so no sickness should be able to take a foothold.

There’s all those others drugs they were using on her though, they’d found traces in her blood and they’d listed off all the long names and awful side effects so matter-of-factly that he’d wanted to punch something.

God only knows what kind of damage they’ve caused that the serum might not have been able to counteract immediately; he can’t even imagine what kind of hell she’s lived through.


She doesn’t say anything, she barely even moves except when Bucky has to get up to stretch his legs so they don’t keep falling asleep and use the little bathroom off to the side of the room, forcing her to do so as well.

“Come on,” he murmurs softly and tugs her to her feet. He cups her face in his hands and her eyes are dazed and groggy, he’d think she was medicated to the gills but the only thing she’s been touching is the bottled water and Bucky’s been drinking that as well.

He leans her against the wall outside the bathroom, and closes the door just enough for the allusion of privacy to do what needs to be done.

When he comes out she’s sitting against the wall instead of leaning, knees drawn up to her chest. He squats down in front of her and touches her arm gently.

“Come on, up you go, sweetheart,” he says and he gives her his hand and lets her use it to pull herself to her feet. When he turns her into the bathroom she stops suddenly and he lets his hand fall away from the small of her back.

He scratches at his head, “I can wait outside if you think you can manage on your own.”

She shoots him a look that is such pure Stevie Rogers at her most indignant that he smirks a bit and has to put his hands behind his back so he doesn’t try and hug her.

“You can’t blame me there darling, you look like a strong breeze will take you right away with it,” he says, using his best cajoling tone.

Stevie just narrows her eyes at him and pushes at his chest until he takes a step back, then closes the door in his face.

He grins at the door like a crazy person, because he can. There’s no lock on the door so she can’t barricade herself in there, there’s nothing for her to hurt herself with. So he stands there and waits for his Stevie to open the door, because that was who walked in there.


He doesn’t time her, doesn’t actually have any way of knowing how long she’s been in there because he doesn’t have a watch strapped to his wrist and Natasha took his phone with him when she left the room.

He taps on the door so she has some warning and when there’s no noise he pushes it open tentatively. He can hear water running in the little sink and it looks like Stevie had been washing her face and got distracted by the mirror.

Her face is the same structure wise, but she looks healthy, not at all like she’s got half of foot into the grave next to her ma and dad.

He stands behind her though he doesn’t touch her and her eyes leave her own face in the mirror to study his. He feels like one of those drawings that she used to spend hours studying in the museums, then would spend hours at home trying to recreate.

“What’s got you looking all confused?” he asks.

She licks her lips, dragging the lower one between her teeth to bite at it. He waits her out, he was always more patient then she was, she was more a barrel full speed ahead, take no prisoners type gal. She and Natasha will probably end up the best of friends, and she must never be allowed to interact with Clint or she’ll think throwing herself off of a rooftops is an acceptable activity.

And it’s not, not even for Clint who Bucky is fond of yes, but wouldn’t follow to the ends of the earth if need be.

“Sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice sounds scratchy and disused, he tries to not wonder how long it’s been since she actually used it to communicate in something other than screams. “Darling.”

“I would have put a ring on your finger, but you wouldn’t even go out dancing with me.”

He’s had a long, long time to come to grips with how he felt about Stevie. He loves her more then he’s loved anyone else in his life, ever. He still has his ma’s ring and he knows, would be willing to bet anything and everything he is and will be, that she’ll wear that ring on her finger and he’ll swear his troth to her and she to him.

“I’m tired,” her fingers wrap around the sink, her eyes close but not before tears escape.

He croons nonsensical noises at her and she draws a deep, shaky breath and turns. She wraps her arms around Bucky’s chest and he puts one hand on the back of her head and uses the other to hold her to him. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“We’ll go lay back down and I’ll call you sweetheart and darling and honeybunch and my girl and tell you about the new music I’m going to take you dancing to when you’re feeling better.”

“Don’t think I’ll ever feel better,” she mumbles against his chest, he rests his cheek against the top of her head and closes his eyes this time.

“See and you’re often times wrong, so you listen to me Stephanie Rogers, and you listen good. You are going to be fine, we’re going to talk to people and we’re going to get help you get better and when you are we’re going to walk out of here together. We’ll have a burger and share a shake and go dancing to music that doesn’t actually make any sense any more. I’ll take you home and buy you all the art supplies your heart desires and I’ll take you to museums so you can complain about the presentation and I’ll introduce you to my friends, half of which you’re sure to love and the other half that you’re not to spend any time alone with.”


“I swear.”



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September 2016


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