Shadows and Secrets Book Three (A MCU FanFic)

Chapter 12: Halloween (Part 3)

trigger warning: references to suicide that may be offensive or upsetting to some readers

Bucky's POV

His eyes widened as he looked in between the girls like he was watching a ping pong match.

Sofi and Marjorie stood about 20 feet apart, frozen. Wade looked astonished and quickly stepped away from Marjorie and edged to Bucky, who was roughly in the middle to the side.

Sofi recovered first and crossed her arms. Marjorie regained her composure quickly after the other girl, glaring at her.

Bucky was surprised to see the anger flash in Marjorie's eyes. The pain he had expected was there, yes, but also an almost-rage. As if she had finally had enough drama and recognized that it wasn't entirely her fault.

Marjorie's face twisted into a scowl as Sofi said harshly, "What do you want?"

"None of your business," she snapped back. "I was here first, anyway."

Erik must have been wrong. Marjorie seemed to be fine. Annoyed, but standing up for herself. Bucky had underestimated her.

"Whatever," dismissed Sofi. "Not everything is about you, you know."

This was not improving his opinion of Marjorie's ex. Maybe he was biased, but everything in Bucky's mind was about Marjorie. And she was the opposite of narcissistic.

Marjorie scoffed, offended. "Excuse me? I don't think I'm the center of the universe; that's all you."

She laughed derisively. "Oh, really? 'My parents didn't love me, and now I'm sooo sad,'" mimicked Sofi. Wade grabbed Bucky's arm when he took a half-step forward. "News flash: everyone that's here is here because their parents didn't love them enough."

Marjorie's eyes flashed and Bucky began to wonder if Erik wanted them separated for a different reason. "At least I can fight back," she hissed. "You just let people walk all over you."

"That's what you call it?" asked Sofi hotly. "Killing people like you do isn't fighting back, it's sadistic. Is that why you like him?" She gestured at Bucky. "Tell me, which one of you has a higher body count?"

His eyes widened as Marjorie gritted her teeth. "Depends on how you count it," she shot back. "Are we including the murders you asked me to commit? Myself?"

Bucky's jaw dropped open.

For a second Sofi dropped the infuriated expression and looked crushed. "I didn't—I never meant for you to hurt yourself. I didn't mean to..."

"You forget," said Marjorie soberly, "I can tell when people are lying." She then walked towards Bucky, grabbed his right wrist, and started to walk away.

Bucky took a minute to get the message; her tugging on his wrist did nothing, as he was so much stronger than her. He blinked, and started following her. Marjorie almost fell over, but quickly recovered herself and resumed her retreat.

~

"Doll—"

"Nope!" interrupted Marjorie. He had not interrupted her sulking on the walk back to their room, but Bucky wasn't fond of the way she refused to talk about it now that they had returned. So far, she had resisted every attempt of his to comfort her.

Marjorie had also decided to lie face down on the bed, mashing her face into a pillow. Her cloak covered her like a blanket. "You can breathe in—"

"Yes," she snapped, "I can breathe."

He was not reassured. Sure, she could breathe now, but that could change any second.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about—"

"No talking!"

"But—"

"Nope!"

"Doll," he sighed. "I want to know what you meant about–" the next few words came out as a growl "–her asking you to kill yourself."

Marjorie covered her ears. "No," she protested, "I don't want to."

Bucky scowled. He wanted the intel, but he couldn't force her to tell him. Stubbornness was a trait Marjorie was exceptional at.

"Fine," he grounded out, "but you aren't sleeping like that."

Bucky ignored her protests and dragged her off the bed. "Put me down!" whined Marjorie, and he set her on her feet in front of him.

She crossed her arms and glared at him. Bucky unhooked the clasp on her cloak and pulled it off her shoulders. After tossing the cloak to the nearby chair, he started pulling out the hairpins from her head. They would irritate her if she slept on them.

Marjorie continued to stare icily at him, and he glared right back.

"Are you done, now?" asked Marjorie impatiently when he finished her hair.

"That depends–" he narrowed his eyes "–are you going to be able to sleep in that?"

Marjorie scowled. "No."

"Then, no."

Bucky pulled off her dress—letting it slip to the floor at her feet like fabric water—and pulled a shirt over her head. She continued glaring at him while he tried to get her arms in the sleeves.

It wasn't the most comfortable sleep attire, but it would suffice. And Bucky wouldn't have to worry about Marjorie strangling herself with the cloak.

"You're done," he said irritably.

She recrossed her arms and let herself fall backwards onto the bed, still scowling at him.

Bucky rolled his eyes at her theatrics and went to change into pajamas himself.

~

Marjorie still hadn't moved for her potentially-uncomfortable position when he returned.

"Are you going to sleep like that, Doll?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she muttered darkly.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "You're in a very bad mood, aren't you?"

Marjorie's only response was to grab a pillow and shove it over her face.

"You know," he continued obliviously, "you might feel better if you talk about it."

She groaned into her pillow.

He picked her up again, and moved her to a more comfortable position, with her head on the pillows and her legs not dangling off the edge of the bed. Bucky pulled the pillow away from her face so she could breathe, and Marjorie glared at the ceiling, determined to sulk.

He wasn't sure if he preferred this to crying, which he had expected.

"If I stay angry," explained Marjorie stiffly, "then I won't be sad."

An explanation, at least, for her mood. Bucky interrupted it as an apology for being rude, though an apology wasn't necessary. "I don't think it works like that, Doll," he said gently.

Marjorie ignored this, continuing to glare at the ceiling.

"Please tell me about it," pouted Bucky.

She also ignored that.

He sighed. Bucky would let her sulk until the morning if she still refused to talk to him until then, but he was getting the intel by the morning, one way or another.