Edelweiss || Bucky x Reader

Chapter Thirty Nine

1947
Day 1,539

I sit on the cool concrete floor with my back against the wall. The parts closest to me have been warmed by the heat of my body. He stands next to me, his fingers idly toying with my hair. The door to his left, and another wall to my right, we both find ourselves looking at the middle of the room. He does this sometimes. Stalling, I mean. But we both know where I'll be soon enough.

He extends down his hand, offering me the stem closed in his fist. Petals long and white as always. The star-shaped yellow buds in the middle hold their genetically engineered mind control concoction.

This is not a gift.

I look up at him. Dead, emotionless.

He sighs.

"Giving an Edelweiss to a loved one is a promise of dedication, sweet flower." He takes my hand and wraps it around the stem just below his. "The least you could do is accept it."

My gaze turns to the floor as I let my hand slip from the fuzz covered green.

I shake my head.

"This isn't love."

There is a beat of silent contemplation on his part.

"You're right." He nods, then grins. "But we can pretend, can't we?"

I wish I could shake my head.

After a few moments of waiting for me to respond he sighs again.

"I am proud of your work today." He says, glancing at me.

"I didn't want to do that." I whisper, the dead man's body still fresh in my eyes. "Why did you make me do that?"

"Just one final step before-"

"Before what?" I cut him off, looking up at him sharply.

He stops, crouches down to my level, and slaps me across the face.

"Speak when spoken to." He says like he's angry, but I know that my now bright pink cheek brings him no distress. He stands again. "Before you fulfill your true purpose."

Then his eyes light up.

"Flower, you will bring order through chaos. Prosperity through destruction. Your seed was planted long ago and now you have blossomed and are ready to be plucked." There is a beat as he finds his wording. "This is what you were meant for."

He says this, but it does not escape me that a plucked flower is a dead one.

We again sit in silence.

"Well, love." He mumbles dryly, growing bored. Eventually he'll be tired of talking to me and then it's all over.

"What's your name?" I ask quietly.

I'm not sure why I ask him. I think I just need to know someone again. I can't remember what that's like, or who exactly I knew, but I'm convinced it's a good feeling. I don't get those anymore.

"You don't get to know that." He says sternly to the wall opposite to him.

My next question makes more sense to me.

"If you won't tell me your name can you at least to tell me mine?"

He looks down at me, and I see something new. Something about the way his brows are pinched up and his lips are pinched down. Like he finally feels just a sliver of my pain.

He looks away, but I can see him bite his lip hard, as if to silence himself.

"What about your family name?" I ask as I too look to the opposite wall.

He doesn't respond and I'm afraid to look at him. The rope I cling to grows shorter and shorter.

Panic bubbles up in my chest the longer the silence stretches.

I need to salvage this.

"I'm s-" I start to apologize.

"Volker Klein."

What?

I look up at him, eyes large and mouth slightly agape. His hand finds my cheek while my eyes find his. He smiles just a little at the stun on my face. I see in his expression he's done something he's not supposed to. Broken a rule, just for me. This almost feels real.

He almost feels human.

Almost.

That's the most I'm going to get.

"Please tell me mine." I ask softly, not pleading or begging, but close enough to it that my voice betrays me with a tinge of desperation.

And he just shakes his head. When he glances to the middle of the room I know my fate has been sealed. Of course he'd tell me his name now. I won't remember it.

His hand leaves my cheek and helps me up off the floor.

"Take a deep breath for me, love." He—Volker—says quietly. I simply do not have the strength nor the energy to resist. As the flower's scent fills my lungs, he lets me go. "You can take your seat now."

I walk, and as I do, I find myself wishing so deeply to not forget. To just this once hold on. To know someone. To have something. I wish so badly to be a person again, if I ever was one to begin with.

The walk is a short one, and I have arrived. I sit. I place the rubber guard in my own mouth. He fiddles with controls. Clamps come around my arms and the core of the machine comes to my head. He shoots me one fleeting glance before flicking on the switch.

The familiar sensation of burning fills me, but it hurts so much worse this time. Maybe because I finally have something to lose.

The pain creeps up on me until suddenly it is unbearable. Searing hot and unrelenting, I squeeze my eyes tight and try to breathe through it until I become desensitized again. It slowly numbs out just a little, so I open my eyes, only to see something new.

Someone new.

She sits where I sat just moments ago.
Her stifled screams sound like mine. But she can't be me, because... well, I'm here, looking at her.

And then I realize I have stopped hurting.

So now I just watch. I watch him do to her what he thinks he is doing to me. Watch the face identical to mine twist in anguish. Her pain... it's just too much to be my own. That's what my mind has decided. But that's me, isn't it? My body, my mind, my pain?

My...

Memories?

He steals them from her hundreds at a time. He tears names from faces and faces from meaning. The two she knew so well she know doesn't know at all.

Memories.

Hers... somehow I see the picture they paint. It is a wonderfully tragic story. I tread through rivers of tears, both happy and sad. I feel the rush of love she has given and received. The anger she has spent.

Unwavering loyalty.

Unyielding spirit.

But as electricity ravages through her head,

She yields.

I thank her for giving me just a sliver of what it feels like to be a person.

I mourn her for what she will lose.

I wonder who she is.

And then I turn to myself and ask,

"Who am I?"

• END OF PART TWO •