Soul Stealer ~ (A Bucky Barnes Love Story)

The Bond

If I'd known leaving our past behind meant boarding a cargo ship headed for Europe I would have stayed at the Smithsonian. The nausea brewing in my belly came in waves which I suppose was appropriate given our current circumstance.

The ship lurched to the side and my stomach tightened painfully, eliciting a moan of pain. I swallowed down saliva, pressing my lips together to stop the warm feeling rising through my chest.

The door swung open just as I bolted from the bed. I shoved Bucky out of the way as I dove into the small bathroom attached to our room. Dropping to my knees in front of the toilet I buckled over, a warm, cloudy, cream color liquid spilling from my mouth.

"Still sick?"

I couldn't talk. I couldn't do anything except grab on to the toilet and hope I didn't die on this godforsaken ship so instead I simply flipped him the finger with my head still buried in the toilet. He chuckled, actually chuckled, the asshole, before closing the door.

I vaguely remembered Bucky asking if I got seasick before we left. I'd told him no because I'd never been on a boat therefore I'd never been sick. In hindsight perhaps I should have been a little more forthcoming. Not that it would have changed our mode of transportation. There were only so many ways you could cross international waters undetected, but at least if I'd spilled the beans we would have both been prepared.

The first couple of days weren't too bad, but by the time we hit "open waters" as the captain called it my stomach had officially rebelled. The gentle sway of the enormous ship turned to a violent pitching up then down only to go right back up again as we battled the growing swell caused by a hurricane churning further south.

The crew itself was split on our last-minute addition to the manifest. Thankfully it wasn't hard to gauge their interest level. They either ignored us completely or took us under their wing. Well, those were the two categories reserved for me. Bucky only had one and it involved everyone steering well clear of the giant, brooding assassin. He helped the men on deck in stoic silence and they accepted his help with visible fear. It was highly entertaining to watch.

My favorite crewman by far was the engineer, Frank. A portly fellow with premature balding he made up for with the longest nose hair I'd ever seen in real life. When he walked he reminded me of a penguin, short legs and even shorter arms with a robust belly that forced him to waddle. I was convinced he'd make better time if he laid down on his protruding middle and slid across the deck.

He didn't seem to mind when I followed him around while he "fixed shit", his words not mine. He absently told me stories, which was Frank for complain, about his wife of close to 30-years and his two grown sons with children of their own. It was an odd feeling having someone be so open with their thoughts, feelings, and personal life. My life was built on secrecy and withholding information. Even my name was a lie. I'd never considered there was another way to live.

The first day after my sickness appeared I was lying on the floor in the engine room hoping I didn't die while Frank cleaned and swapped out the oil filters. He'd been somewhat sympathetic to my plight or at least as sympathetic as a man who'd never experienced a day of seasickness in his life could be. According to him the cure for seasickness was to get off the ship. Not helpful at that particular moment, but I was keeping his gem of information tucked away for a rainy day.

Frank's real gift to mankind was the ability to swear like it was his chosen profession. If cursing burned calories the man would only weight eight pounds. Unfortunately for Frank life wasn't that kind. He easily weighed in a 250 pounds and repeatedly asked me if I thought he could take Bucky in a fight. I laughed so hard I gave myself a cramp. Frank's weight may put him in the same ballpark as the former Winter Soldier, but in terms of experience he wasn't in the same universe.