Chapter 22 ~ An acceptance

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Recap:

"I show you my scars, and you show me yours," Bucky proposed.

"You know I don't have any," Reyna told him in a deadpan tone.

"I know that is a lie. There is not one soul in HYDRA's custody that doesn't have even a single scar. You can just hide yours," Bucky guessed, in a tone that made it seem as if he knew. He had seen the signs, but he needed confirmation. Reyna's eyes widened. She looked a bit like a fish gasping for water with her mouth opening and closing, too stunned to form words. Bingo.

"How?" She demanded, shocked, concerned, and confused.

"Every time someone mentions scars or injuries, you reach a hand back to touch your back. I do the same, but I hide my arm instead." Bucky explained his thought process. Reyna looked impressed.

"I'll have to remember that you are smarter than you look, soldier," she chuckled slightly.

"Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?" Bucky teased as he raised an eyebrow.

"That's for you to decide." Reyna mimicked his expression.

"I don't know. What do you say?" Bucky asked again, back to a careful tone and guarded expression.

"Alright, but you start. I don't even know if I can show mine anymore, but I'll try." Bucky could read Reyna's fear from a mile away, but she still agreed to show him her most vulnerable side. Show it to one of the main reasons she had those scars.

"Of course," Bucky agreed. He took a grip on his shirt but hesitated.

"You don't have to-"

"I know." He cut her off. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the shirt over his head and let it fall to the ground, baring his scarred torso to Reyna. Her gaze immediately fell on the marred skin attached to his metal arm. She reached out to touch it, but Bucky flinched away from her hand, and she pulled back. Before she could pull it back completely, he gently took her hand in his and placed it on the ruined tissue. As soon as her fingers made contact, Reyna flinched so horribly that Bucky thought he had hurt her, but then she relaxed and let her hand travel along the rough edge.

"Why did you try to claw it off?" She asked somberly.

"How could you- never mind. I hated the thought that I was becoming a weapon, so I tried to pry it off. I passed out from blood loss and pain after about an hour," Bucky admitted softly.

"Your poor soul," Reyna spoke to herself. "Your back?" He turned around to show small, white lines littering his back. There was one that stuck out. A long, jagged line trailed from his left shoulder down to his mid-back that Reyna trailed a finger down.

"That was-"

"Shh, I know. You don't have to explain," Reyna calmed him down so effectively that it almost scared him.

"Can I see yours now?" Bucky asked as he turned around to face Reyna again. She gave a weak nod, looked down, and took a deep breath. She took off her top and let it fall to the ground, standing there in just shorts and the chest binding she'd done earlier. Her brows furrowed in concentration, and Bucky realized that these illusions, or whatever it was, was not something she consciously held. He couldn't help letting his gaze travel over Reyna's body as he waited for her. It struck him how skinny she still was after a month of living with them. Sure, she had filled out a bit since she got there, but she was still seriously below what was healthy. A white line materialized on her left arm, bringing him out of his thoughts, then another on her shoulder. More and more evidence of the abuse she had gone through showed up on her skin, one mark at a time. The lesser injuries came first: small scrubs and cuts. Then the scars became heavier and more gruesome. One on her torso looked like a lightning strike, probably from heavy electric shocks. Burns stretched across her arms, neck, and torso and there were a few deep stab wounds on her legs together with whip scars. For each mark uncovered, a memory of its cause flashed over Bucky's field of vision. He remembered every strike, whip crack, and electric spark Reyna took. As he looked to meet her eyes, the contorted scaly skin that covered the left side of her face almost took the breath from his lungs. Bucky had to tear his eyes from the scars to meet her bitter gaze. She looked so tired, so done with all of it. But there was more to this equation than hate; there was a burning shame and fear still attached to it. Burned. The logo...

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