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SEPTEMBER 12TH, 1995
CYNTHIA HATED THIS outfit.
She hated the training.
And most of all, she hated the fact that she was fighting Bucky today. Handcuffed and walking down the hallway with Owen on her right side, and Beck, another guard, on her left, there was a very slim chance of her escaping out of this today.
Every night since she had got there, John had come by her cell to leave more marks on her in front of the guards. He wouldn't touch her in a forceful way, but just harm her enough so then the other guards would stop touching her. So then they would know she was his. She hated being called "his," and every night after he would leave, she would curl up in the corner of her cage and cry.
When they finally arrived, it was in the same room that David had been killed in. Except, this time, the machine Bucky had previously been hooked up to was gone; along with David's body and the blood on the ground that had haunted Cynthia's nightmares.
Bucky was standing in the center of the room, wearing the dark expression he had when she had first met him. No hint of recognition in his eyes when he saw her. She was just another playmate.
Uncuffing Cynthia, and pushing her towards him, Cynthia grabbed the handle of her sword, trying to bring some comfort out of it. But she found none as she walked towards Bucky.
Faster than she could blink, Bucky brought his gun up, and she instinctively twirled her sword up, and he started shooting. Dodging bullets by running and hitting them away with her sword, one finally hit her in the side, and she gasped, falling onto the floor into a roll, and clutching her side. Pulling the bullet out as her skin healed, she turned towards Bucky and started shooting blindly. God, she hoped she wouldn't hit his head.
Bucky's armor shielded him away from her bullets, and he shot again at her.
Putting her gun back in her holster, Cynthia ran towards Bucky, throwing her sword towards him, and jumped on him. Dodging her sword and swinging her off his shoulders in one swift motion, he kicked Cynthia in stomach, and she landed on the ground in front of him.
Bucky's metal arm extended, and then crashed into the ground under them as Cynthia dodged it.
In my Bucky's mind, this was only some pretty blonde girl that had come to fight him, and deep, down, in his stomach, he felt like something was completely wrong.
But he couldn't put his finger on it.
As the two continued to fight, Cynthia taking the most damage, but healing right after, John finally clapped his hands, and said, "Alright. That's enough for today."
Both Cynthia and Bucky stopped instantly. Looking at Bucky, Cynthia mumbled to him, "I'll hold on if it's with you."
But Bucky's reaction was just walking forward, towards some HYDRA members. Completely ignoring her. Cynthia took a shaky breath as John walked towards her, grabbing her arm. "Come on, sweetheart," John said, "Back to your cell you go."
"You mean my cage?" Cynthia retorted, looking at John. He gripped her arm tighter, and growled, "Dammit, just walk with me, you whore."
Tugging her along, Cynthia cast one last look at Bucky, who was handing over his weapons. His eyes flickered over towards her, and for a split moment, she thought she saw him register something in his eyes before he turned away from her, paying attention to someone who was talking to him.
"So, before we wiped James's memories, he confessed to lots of things—like the fact that he had fallen in love with you, allowed you to spare lives, and had even told us you'd had a kid. But, we couldn't find your kid. Lucky kid, right?" John said. "He also confessed to burning out your hormones, and then almost sparing you the night he was supposed to kill you. How funny, how things can work out."
Cynthia ignored him, taking this time to think about Jamie. He would be safe. He and Maisie understood that they had to start calling him "Xavier," instead of Jamie, and the both of them would be safe . . . They'd always be safe. "You'll never find him anyways," Cynthia told John, "You don't even know his birth name. His last name isn't even Barlow, or Hayes. So have fun trying to find him, with no pictures of him, and no records you can trust."
Slamming her against the wall, John snapped, "Oh, we'll find him, one day. And we'll have to punish him as well."
"I'll kill you before that ever happens," Cynthia hissed. "James is going to live a long, healthy, life, and die of old age. You'll never get to him. I won't let that happen."
John took a few moments of silence before replying. "Wow . . . " He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I have never met someone who has been willing to die for the safety of their child."
Pushing John off of her, Cynthia looked over at Owen, who stood a few steps away, and said, "Owen, take me back to my cell."
Leaving John in the dark hallway, in that moment, Cynthia had missed the comfort of her cage.
