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thesnakewithin · 2 months ago

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Diamonds & Dust

Summary: With the intention of making amends to everyone he has harmed, and in the absence of Tony's Stark, he tries to make amends with his daughter.

Warnings: Language, Self-harm, age-gap, Bucky being kinda creepy.

Word Count: 3K words.

For: @skwangmbyul who asked me about this story.

On days like those it was better not to wake up or leave the bed, or the floor in his case. A thought that came to him many times a day but never more than Tuesdays. Because on Tuesdays he had his court-mandated therapy. And he fucking hated it. He hated having to tell Raynor everything he had done that week, everything he had dreamed of, and everything he thought of. Not that he told her the truth, or at least, not all of the truth, but it was still annoying. Bucky didn't want to talk about himself. Bucky didn't want to talk, point blank.

He only ever talked to Alpine, but that was because she talked to him first. And because she didn't ask stupid questions that drove him down the road of unwanted memories. Or maybe she did, Bucky didn't speak cat and Alpine didn't speak human, so he couldn't be sure.

But it was Alpine who woke him up, the few days he slept without nightmares, and forced him to get up and have breakfast. As if she was the one taking care of a pet.

Maybe in her mind — he thought amused.

The cat purred contently as he scratched the back of her head, rubbing the side of her face against the vibranium hand. She was not bothered by the lack of heat or flesh in his left hand. Never had been. Even as a kitten rescued from the streets, Alpine hadn't cared.

The same could not be said for everyone.

Bucky drank his coffee while his eyes skimmed through the newspaper. It was mostly publicity these days, and it did not feel as it used to, smoother and thinner to the tact, yet it made him feel better. It was comforting in a way he couldn't really explain.

Leaving the cup on the kitchen counter, Bucky took one look at the clock on the wall and turned to Alpine.

"Behave" he told her.

Alpine meowed from her place on top of the kitchen counter, staring at him until he closed the door as if she didn't want him to leave. A part of him was desperately clinging to the hope that Alpine didn't want him to leave. That someone needed him. That maybe the thousand shattered pieces of who he used to be, the man that died when he fell off that train, were still worth something.

"Tell me about your most recent nightmare" were the words that greeted him the moment he sat on the couch next to Doctor Raynor.

She never greeted him, never felt the need to do so. Susan Raynor always went straight to the point, there was no use on stalling.

"I didn't have a nightmare" he replied dryly.

Lying, of course. Maybe he did not always have nightmares, memories replaying in his head while he slept, but more often than not he did. And Raynor knew that.

"You are lying" her response was equally dry "I can tell. I know you enough, to be able to tell"

Bucky scoffed. Raynor didn't know him, she only thought she did because she read a bunch of reports made by people who studied him, but did not know him. She couldn't understand. She was never going to understand and Bucky didn't see the point in explaining anything to her. To anyone.

"Right"

Her gaze hardened and she opened her notebook. Bucky didn't mean to roll his eyes, but he did.

"Which one of your victims was it this time, James?"

His fists clenched. It was none of her business. It was no one's business but his own. No one's.

And still, they keep pushing. Always pushing to know more about things they couldn't even begin to understand.

He did not answer, and she, as always, pushed.

"Was it Nakajima? The Starks?" The nails of his flesh hand bit into his palms. He could hear the skin breaking under the pressure. He could feel the blood painting the tips of his fingers. Warming them. "You have not yet crossed neither of those names for your book"

"Tony Stark is dead. I can never make amends with him"

For what he did. For killing Howard, and his wife. For fighting him when he was confronted about it. There was no way to ever make up for it. There had never been a way to make up to someone for killing their family.

Yet, the man forgave him. He remembered those words so clearly. They were fighting the purple guy in a field and then he saved someone, a girl, his daughter, and Stark flew by and told him he was forgiven.

You are forgiven, Barnes!

Those words haunted him almost as much as his actions. Bucky did not deserve it, the forgiveness. He knew that and he hated that he had it. If he could, he would have rejected that forgiveness. But he could not. And he definitely should not.

"Many of the people who you wronged and whose names you already crossed off your list, were dead. What did you do then?"

He sighed, opening his fist. The wounds were already closing, he could feel the burn. It was grounding. The pain was something familiar. Something that stopped him from doing things he would regret. HYDRA used pain to stop him from attacking them, because he was always on edge there, with them. Still was, even with HYDRA gone.

"I searched for their families and tried to do something good for them"

"He has family" she was writing on her notebook. What? Bucky didn't know "A wife and a daughter. Can't you do something good for them?"

He could. He should. Shouldn't he?

"I guess so"

But he doubted they wanted to see him, and even if they did, what could he do for a pair of billionaires loved by everyone? They had everything they wanted. They could have anything they wanted. What could they want from him? What could he give them?

All that I can give them is my apologies. And what's that worth?

When the session finished, Bucky left inmediatly, without bothering to say his goodbyes to Raynor — she never did either —, and returned home.

Alpine was waiting for him. Not where he had left her, of course not, but cuddled up in her bed on the couch. The cat yawned and stretched her paws, waking up with the sound of the door opening.

"I got homework, in a way" he told the white cat, passing by her side and petting her head "So I have to leave again. Not now. I don't know when, or even why. What use is all of this? The making amends? I'm not feeling any better and I don't think anyone else is either"

It seemed pointless. Not because he wasn't feeling better — he didn't deserve to feel better. That was not his aim — but because no one else he was making amends with was. It all remained unchanging, as if he had never said anything to begin with.

So, really, what was the point?

Why did he have to do it? Why couldn't he just stay with Alpine and rot haunted by the ghosts of his past?

Alpine meowed in a particularly loud manner, making Bucky blink and return to the present. He noticed then, that his nails were, once again, drawing blood from his palm.

Oxygen went in and out of his being, willing his fist to relax.

Alpine was staring, deeply and even worriedly. Or so he thought, but maybe he was wrong.

The wounds began to heal, burning again, it made him focus on the task ahead.

The daughter — the girl I saved —. Tony's daughter. She's the one I have to make amends with.

Bucky didn't know anything about her, other than how she looked like and even that was blurry. The heat of the battle, the shock of the forgiveness being shout amongst cannons and lasers and space stuff, muddied those memories.

"Where the fuck should I start?"

Alpine meowed again, and then proceeded to lick her paws as if she was dirty. She wasn't, she didn't leave the apartment and he had bathed her when the vet said he could. His cat was always clean. Soft, pristine white fur shone under any light. He was taking better care of her than of himself.

When Alpine finished cleaning her paws, she moved to the couch and placed a paw on his phone.

"You want me to call Sam and ask him?"

Sam probably knew her. He definitely knew her mother at least.

"Yeah, maybe I should"

Should, but if he did, Sam would ask him how he was doing and that was exactly what Bucky didn't want.

So he did the same thing he had done with some others, he investigated her. Thanks to the wonders of that century, he found information about her on the internet. People really liked her, apparently, there were pictures of her all over the internet, opinions about her behaviour, and rumours about what she did.

Taking one look at the pictures, Bucky could see why. Morgan Stark was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that it was hard to come by. More than a hundred years he had been on the world and he had only seen a few women who were that beautiful. Even though the Red Room had made an habit of paying extra attention on the good-looking ones, and he had been, because of course he had been, sent there by a couple of his handlers.

The word echoed in his mind, as if once he had thought it he couldn't escape it. But he knew, thought or not, Bucky would never be able to escape it.

His eyes travelled back to the screen of his modern phone, to the pictures of the young woman he was supposed to make amends with. The smile she displayed in that one, an inauguration of some kind, was almost convincing, but her eyes, brown like Tony's, gave away her true feelings. She hadn't wanted to be there, but judging by the comments on the picture, no one noticed it. She hadn't wanted them to.

It's always easier to manipulate people when one is pretty.

Morgan Stark would have shone in the Red Room, he thought to his own horror.

Those thoughts were not helping him, nor his task.

His phone, that thin, small black box, illuminated and made a ringing sound, showing a new message from Sam.

You Ok? — he read.

Bucky turned off the phone, watching the screen go black before letting go of the small thing and standing up. It was better than smashing it against the wall. Which was what he wanted to do most of the time. What he hadn't done yet but wasn't ruling out.

Why did he have to ask? Why did he needed to? Wasn't it obvious he wasn't fine?

Ignoring him aside, when had Bucky ever been fine?

Never — a traitorous voice whispered.

Never, despite the happy years of his childhood. Never, despite his friendship with Steve. Never, despite the happy family he once had. There had always... with time he came to the conclusion that there was always something wrong with him. Something that HYDRA made grow. Something that only got worse once he was freed.

That was the reason why he needed to finish all the names in his book, finish the therapy, and disappear. There was nothing else for him there, in the world. No place. No purpose. Maybe there never had been.

Alpine meowed louder than before, making he raise his head from where his gaze had been lost on his hands. His flesh hand and his metal one. Both equally stained with blood.

Bucky shook his head and smiled at the cat.

"What? You want me to put the TV on?"

She liked that, sometimes. Listening to the voices and sounds coming from the TV, probably sick of hearing only his.

Can't blame her for that.

Alpine purred out loud, an action he took as a yes. Sitting on the floor, with the TV on was when he resumed his task. His main task was finding her. Morgan Stark. Finding out where she lived now. Where he could find her.

And Bucky did.

The house was in the middle of nowhere, New York, in a place so remote only the very wealthy could live there. And only the incredibly wealthy could own so many miles around that no one could even see the house unless they were going to it.

It was a cute house, Bucky thought, big, but not too big. He wondered if it had been Pepper Potts or Morgan Stark who had chosen it.

It bore a certain similitude to the house they had before, the one where the funeral had been celebrated. Which had to be intentional, but whose intention?

It didn't matter.

Bucky closed his eyes, not to gather the courage, not to calm himself, and took a deep breath. It was peaceful there, under the many trees of green leaves that hid the sun just enough to not bother the eyes, but the sunlight came through the spaces between the branches and the leaves anyway. A soft breeze hit his face, painting a faint smile upon his face.

Peaceful.

That was the kind of place he wanted to disappear in. With Alpine. And Bucky knew, he knew, that he didn't deserve that, but still he wanted it.

Wrong.

His eyes snapped open when he heard someone approaching. Heard the light steps of someone who knew how to dance. Who knew how to be as light as a feather. Bucky turned and he saw her. Morgan Stark.

Her blonde, wavy hair was gathered in a high ponytail that made her gold earrings shine under the sunlight. When she saw him, she smiled. A big and bright smile.

It make Bucky feel strangely nervous.

No one smiled like that when they saw him.

"My saviour" she drawled "What brings you here?"

"You" he replied without thinking. Morgan blinked in confusion, but her smile didn't falter. God, he felt like Steve trying to flirt. No, not that. He was not trying to flirt with her. He couldn't "I... I'm no longer the Winter Soldier and I'm here to make amends"

Morgan tilted her head and chuckled.

"Okay...why?"

Why? Did she not know? Had no one told her? Morgan Stark was eighteen, old enough to know about the horrors of the world.

Bucky inhaled.

"Because I...While I was the Winter Soldier I did something to your family...and I need to...you know, make amends"

"You mean killing my grandparents?" her tone was so casual, as if she didn't care. Yet, Bucky gulped when the memories of what he had done...the images of punching Howard until he died, choking his wife, shooting the camera— "That's not on you. HYDRA used you like a weapon, you had no will of your own then. There's nothing to apologize for"

He exhaled loudly, vision becoming slightly blurry. Was he going to cry? Now? In front of her?

"Isn't there?"

"I think people should only apologize for things they chose to do and then regret. Not things they have no control over"

She was so sure of her words, as if she knew without a doubt that what she said was true. But Morgan Stark was too young to be sure of anything.

"Well, the government doesn't seem to agree with that"

And I don't either.

"Fuck the government"

That got a chuckle from Bucky.

It was not something one would hear back in the 40s. Especially not if your best friend was Steve Rogers.

"Youth these days..." he commented, blinking away tears that he wouldn't shed, feeling as a small smile formed on his face.

Morgan smiled too, looking at him as if he wasn't everything he was.

"And hey, even if you did have to make up for the shit they forced you to do. You already saved my life, the scales are balanced"

Were they? He did not feel like they were. But she did, and with that smile he almost believed it too.

"So, there's nothing I can do for you? Given that I'm here—?"

"How did you even find my house anyway?"

"The internet"

There were some people very interested in finding out things about the Starks and they used their resources to do that. Hacking into whatever things they could to find out their address.

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest.

"So you sort of cyber-stalked me?" she didn't sound mad, in fact she was still smiling.

"Well—"

"You know" she came closer, close enough that he could smell her perfume. Cherries and strawberries. Sweet "You could make up for the cyber-stalking by inviting me to dinner. I like sushi"

Was she asking him out on a date? No, not that. She was trying to have a pseudo-date with him and was using the amends he was trying to make as an excuse. It was flattering. It was... something he definitely shouldn't accept. The old him would have, no question, but now... Besides, she was too young for him.

Everyone is too young for me.

"I don't think that's..." God, old him would be laughing at his inability to talk to her in a normal way. He used to be so good at that, but not anymore. Bucky Barnes wasn't who he used to be. But Morgan, that girl so young that couldn't even be considered a woman, bit her lip in a way that was way too fucking enticing for someone so young to use, and Bucky decided he didn't care. "Fine. Why not?"

She smiled and gave a little jump, like an excited child.

Cute.

"It has to be at your place because I'm a public figure and the paparazzis follow me everywhere. And pretty much everyone, really"

Yeah, he had seen that much on the internet. Every little thing she did was filmed by someone.

"My address—"

"No need. I can get it"

"Isn't that illegal?"

Morgan tilted her head again.

"Do you care?"

Did he?

"No, not really"

She smiled again. Idly, he wondered if Morgan had thought of him, during those six months.

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #mcu #marvel oc #marvel original character #stark oc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction

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thesnakewithin · 2 months ago

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The world was confusing now. Maybe it had always been. No. No.

His life before everything…that was simple. That was normal. That had been simple. Had been normal. The trips where they spent the few money they had, the late nights talking about everything and anything, unable to sleep, the double dates that ended in disaster. Just incredibly ordinary.

Bucky missed it, but at the same time he knew he could never go back. Not only because the 40s had long been gone, but because even if he had been given the chance to do like Steve and go back, he could not. He was not who he used to be, wouldn't fit in, wouldn't belong where he used to.

All that had been done to him, all that he had done, had turned him into someone who didn't belong anywhere. Who never would. The future or the past, it didn't matter, he belonged in neither of them. He wasn't out of time, he was out of place.

Always would be.

And the apartment where he lived now was a mirror of that. Empty, save for a few chairs and a TV he didn't really pay attention to. And books. Lots and lots of books.

They were his only comfort in the world. The moment he got an apartment and money, he bought all the books he used to have back in the day. The whatever-number edition of his childhood and youth books. His favourite had been the Hobbit, and it had been pleasant to find three other books following that one. The only pleasant thing in the future so far. And probably the one he would ever find.

Luck was not something he had these days. If he ever did have it.

With a sigh, he rested his head against the wall. Trying, very hard not to focus on the place he lived in. On its emptiness. On his own. But even so, painful as it was, he had to live with it. He didn't deserve otherwise.

The small coffee table was filled with the takeaway food packaging. It smelled like curry and sadness mixed with a large dose of loneliness. A earned one, of course, after all he was the one refusing Sam’s calls and ignoring his texts. The one who stayed inside his apartment unless it was the day of the court-mandated therapy with Doctor Raynor and had to go outside.

Self-imposed isolation, as Bucky liked to call it.

He stood up, and gathered the food packaging to put it away in the trash can. It was the only thing he did, or almost the only thing, clean and read. According to Raynor it could be worse. Bucky agreed with her, on that, at least.

Outside it was dark, or as dark as the nights in a crowded city could be. The lights of the cars, stores and lamps made it a little hard for the night to be truly as dark as it should be. But it was during the night when he took the trash out, wondering if back in the 40s Steve did the same.

It was the only other thing he would ever go out for, taking out the trash. Which was probably very sad, and Sam would tell him do if he ever took his calls. Reason as to why he didn't do it. Bucky didn't need anyone telling him how sad his life was, he knew it already.

He left his apartment for a few moments, closing the door after him as if he had something valuable inside, and went down to the alley where the trash cans were. That back alley was a narrow path to other apartments that smelt like months-expired food and dog piss that wasn't placated by the cold of November nights. Thankfully, he had smelled worse things in his life.

I probably shouldn't be thankful for that.

Methodically, mostly driven by muscle memory, he threw away the trash. A high-pitched noise was heard, or at least he could hear it, one that was followed by another and another and another. An insistent noise that was getting annoying. Bucky searched for where that noise came from, and soon he found it. A small white buddle sitting between trash bags on the other can. A cat. Kitten, actually. The little thing stared right at him and meowed again.

“Are you alone?” he didn't know why he was asking that to a fucking cat, it was not as if it could answer.

The cat meowed again, still staring. Tentatively, Bucky stretched his flesh hand towards the kitten. It didn't move, but craned its neck to try and smell his hand.

It didn't have a collar or anything, and with that size, all alone in the cold, it wouldn't last long on the streets. He couldn't let it there. He just couldn't. Bucky sighed and went to hold the kitten with all the care and delicacy he could muster. It let him, purring in his arms. A warmth bloomed in his chest.

“What, you like me?” he asked while he walked back to his apartment. The kitten kept purring “That's surprising”

Back in the day everyone liked him —except for the fathers and husbands of some women— but now…now that Steve was gone he had no one. And he deserved no one, after everything he had done. But the kitten…it didn't deserve to die in the cold only because he should be completely alone.

He left the cat carefully on the floor before his door and opened it. The moment the door was ajar, the kitten ran inside. Bucky chuckled.

Inside, the kitten walked through the apartment as if it was his own and kept meowing at every little thing as if judging the place. But he didn't listen, mostly because he didn't understand what the cat was trying to say, too busy trying to find something the cat could it and tearing pieces of old newspapers —because he still bought newspapers. It gave him some sense of calm. It was grounding, in a way— to compensate for the lack of sandbox. He poured water on a bowl and some leftovers on another. Bucky wasn't sure what exactly was it that cats ate, but the kitten didn't complain about the food, rather it spent the next few minutes licking and nibbling at the pieces of meat.

“I’ll buy you food tomorrow, and a sandbox” he told the cat while folding a blanket and placing it against a corner of the couch to make a bed for it “And I’ll take you to the vet. And all the other things that I should do, I don't really know what those are exactly but I’ll ask"

He’ll ask. He’ll find out.

Bucky sat on the couch, ignoring for a moment how uncomfortable the softness was.

The kitten finished eating and ran back to the couch, jumped to get to it. But instead of laying on the folded blanket, the cat curled up on his lap, purring contently. Bucky found himself smiling and running his flesh hand through its white fur.

“You need a name” he murmured.

I’m definitely keeping it, aren't I?

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #alpine marvel

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