Death Where is Your Sting? - B. Barnes

Chapter 11

Sam had filled Bucky in on the research Torres was doing on the Power Broker. He'd found some loose leads, starting with some shipments linked to Madripoor months earlier. The problem was, the shipments had gone in and out of multiple ports, carrying a number of orders for various people and groups. Even if they figured out which shipments were linked to the Power Broker, it'd take some serious recon to determine which site the Broker might be at. Sam promised to keep him updated, and asked Bucky to let him know if they came across any information in the files Ray had taken from the warehouse.

Although they'd agreed to keep Ray out of this for now, given the state of her memories, Bucky was in a foul mood when he'd returned from his talk, and Ray could see it in everything he did. He was short with her, distant, wouldn't eat, overly focused on the files. When she told him she couldn't trust him if he couldn't be honest with her, he'd told her sometimes it's better not to know. But when she'd reminded him that she'd been allowing him to read every detail of her gruesome past, he couldn't lie to her anymore. So he'd told her about Torres and his research.

And when she'd asked him if he was keeping anything else from her, other than the things about Raven she'd asked him not to tell her yet, he'd hung his head. He told her about his nightmare, about the chair.

And Pandora's box was opened. She snapped.

She told him she wanted to know it all. When he argued that it might be too much, she'd told him it was her choice. And he couldn't argue with that, she'd had no choice for so long. So he told her about Hydra's plans, her defiance. He tried to spare her the details but he answered all of her questions.

"What did they want me to do?"
"Make them an army."
"And when I didn't?"
"They...torture."
"Like what?"
"You know what they would do."
"Tell me." She was pacing now, hands on her hips.
Bucky sighed in resignation. "Uh...Water boarding. Whipping. Beatings. Tasers. Cattle prods. Isolation. Starvation. Ray, you know how they -"
"Is that how you knew me?"
"Yes."
"So you-"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Strangulation. Beating...The shooting. But it wasn't me."
"I- you think I don't know that?!"
"I'm sorry."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Did I ever comply?"
"Not willingly."
"Then how? The injections?"
"No. That wasn't until the Reaper. It happened by accident when they used a cattle prod once. So they'd do it that way, but it was random. Out of your control. Unintentional."
"So it worked."
"Well...no. Not...not really."
"What do you mean?"
"I think we should stop."
"No. It's about damn time I learn who I am, don't you think? Isn't this what you wanted? To help me?"
"Not like this! I wanted to make this easier for you, take your time to process -"
"That ship has sailed. We've come this far now. Just tell me."
"Ray-"
She slammed her fist on the kitchen counter, yelling. "It was my damn life! I have a right to know!"
Bucky swallowed hard. "They all died. Even the ones with the most minute changes."
She went silent. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Ray-" He reached out toward her to stop her moving past him, trying to comfort her.
"Don't-" She jerked away, swallowed hard, emotion heavy in her voice. "Don't touch me. Just... leave me alone." She'd fled into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

Bucky had hung his head, ashamed at the pain and anguish he'd cause. He'd never meant for it to go like this. At the sounds of her heaving, he dared to try to mend the brokenness he'd caused. He had knocked on the door and called softly to her, but she'd refused to respond.

That was hours ago. Some time later, when it was long past dark, Bucky had heard her finally exit the bathroom. He'd heard her lock the bedroom door. And then nothing.

Silence.

Bucky lost track of the time, trapped in his head, trying to puzzle out how to fix this. Until his eye lids became too heavy to hold open, and he'd had no choice but to give into the exhaustion.