Chapter Text
Undisclosed location – ten years ago
It is quiet in the car as Bucky and his father drive home. Adrenaline is still coursing through his body. His hand is still shaking from the beating he had given the other boy and from when he had pulled the trigger.
“Why did you do it?” asks Giorgiy as he keeps his eyes fixed on the partition in his limousine.
“He hurt Sam.”
“Sam Wilson?”
“Yes,” Bucky replies.
“I did not realize you two were friends,” Giorgiy says flatly.
“We’re not,” says Bucky, somewhat lamely. “Not really.”
His father turns to look at him with a questioning stare.
“So, you take the life of another for someone who you are not really friends with?”
Bucky doesn’t say anything.
“If this other boy hurt Paul’s son, should you not have left it to the Preacher to deal with him?”
Bucky shrugs.
“Why did you take it upon yourself?”
“Because he hurt Sam and Sam didn’t deserve that.”
“You care about Sam?”
“Of course I do.”
“But you are not really friends?”
Bucky shrugs again and stars out the window.
“Look at me, Bogdan. You used my men, who are not your men to command, to snatch this boy and harm him for someone who is not your friend. And then you lay waste to him, for someone who is not your friend. You care about this other boy, but he is not your friend. Explain to me why you would do all of this if you are not friends?”
Bucky’s breathing becomes labored as he turns and stares into his father’s piercing eyes.
“He’s – he’s important to Mr Wilson and Mr Wilson’s friendship is important to you,”
Bucky offers weakly.
“Then why not leave it to Paul to deal with? What are you not telling me, Bogdan? Are you doing filthy things with Paul’s son?”
“No! It’s nothing like that!”
“I thought you agreed you would not be doing those things with boys anymore?”
“I’m not. I’m not doing anything with anyone.”
“You are my son. You could have your pick of any woman, yet your attention is always on some other boy. Is this what is happening with Paul’s son? You got rid of the other boy because of some jealousy?”
“No! He hurt Sam and Sam didn’t deserve it.”
“You have dirty feelings for Sam? You wish to bring shame on both of our families? To bring shame to me and the Preacher with this perversion?”
“No!”
“This disgusting behavior will stop, Bogdan. You will grow up to take over this family business. You will not sully my name with this unnatural behaviour. You will take a wife and have a family of your own.”
“I don’t want that. Why can’t I have what I want? So, what if I want to be with someone like Sam? So what if I’m –”
Before Bucky can finish what he is saying, his father’s hand connects with his face. The rings on his fingers split Bucky’s lip. The pain is searing. Tears well in Bucky’s eyes. His father grabs him by the back of the neck and leans in close to his ear.
“No son of mine will say he is a filthy fucking faggot. Do you hear me?”
“You don’t get to call me that,” Bucky protests before his father slams his head against the tinted window.
He shakes Bucky’s neck roughly and says, “Do you hear me, Bogdan?”
“Ye—yes.”
“Do not make me have to have this conversation with you again,” he spits as he releases Bucky from his clutches.
Bucky sits there with his head low and his gaze averted, rage and pain burning inside of him. It wasn’t the first time his father had laid his hands on him, and he is sure it won’t be the last. Giorgiy presses a button and the partition slides down.
“Take us to the Dollhouse,” he says to his driver before pressing the button once more to afford him and his son privacy. “You will stay at the Dollhouse until they fuck those urges for boys out of you.”
…
Undisclosed location
The Dollhouse operates as ‘training grounds’ for Giorgiy Baranov’s many gentlemen’s clubs, but there are no gentlemen there. Baranov’s other establishment front as places for men with money to indulge in all of their many and varied tastes. The Dollhouse is where the young women he buys and sells learn to provide their services. It is little more than a rundown, but secure, apartment complex. All of the young women are from eastern Europe. Their passports locked away at a different location with their children. Their lives under the control of Giorgiy Baranov’s operation.
Bucky’s father had him dropped off there under guard fifteen minutes prior. He has changed his clothing. He is in a small, bare room. The windows are blacked out and there is only a double bed, its head pressed against the wall. An overhead light cast shadows all around. Bucky is told to wait, and so he does. He sits there still, mind racing, wanting so badly to be somewhere else. But his father’s men are outside the door. If he leaves right now, they have the permission to throw him back inside. A feeling of dread stirs in his stomach. He knows what this is.
Soon, the door unlocks and two girls enter. They can’t be a year or two older than Bucky is. It looks as if they haven’t seen the sun in days. Sullen demeanors and dead eyes move toward him. Bucky tries not to look at them as they approach.
“Ne delay etogo so mnoy,” says Bucky as he finally looks up.
“It is okay, baby,” says one of the girls, her Russian accent is thick; her phrase is practised.
She reaches out a hand for Bucky, and he flinches away before saying, “Net.”
The other girl, the older of the pair, sits next to Bucky and places her hand on his thigh.
“We do not usually have to try this hard,” she offers. “Do you not like us?”
“Ya tebya ne khochu,” Bucky says firmly. “Ya tebya ne khochu.”
“Are you sure we cannot change your mind?” she asks while giving his thigh a squeeze.
“Ne trogay menya!” he yells and gets up from where he is seated. The girls approach him and he tries to push them away as he says, “Vam ne nuzhno etogo delat’.”
“We do not have to do this?” asks the older girl, incredulous, as she lets out a sardonic laugh. “Of course we have to. They will beat us if we do not comply. Do you think I want this? Do you think I did this to myself?”
She then pulls the collar of her top aside to show the bruises on her body. Bucky feels as if he might throw up.
“Please,” says the younger of the pair. “They are watching us.”
Bucky narrows his gaze and scans the room. That’s when he spots the camera mounted in the corner of the room.
“What the fuck?” says Bucky, more to himself.
“They are always watching,” says the older as she moves closer to Bucky and brings her lips near his ear while placing her hand to his chest. “You cannot leave here either.”
Bucky swallows hard.
“They will beat us and starve us if we do not do what they say,” she adds, as she kisses Bucky’s neck. “Or worse. If we cannot do what they want us to do, what purpose do they have for us? Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Bucky says, as all of the fight leaves his body. “I understand.”
Bucky closes his eyes as the older of the girls presses kisses and sucks at his neck and the younger sinks down to the floor in front of him. He takes a deep breath, clenches his eyes more tightly, and pictures Sam Wilson’s gap-toothed smile.
…
Baranov Residence, Brooklyn
The house is quiet by the time Bucky returns. His father’s car is not outside, so Bucky feels relief wash over him. He goes to the upstairs bathroom and takes a shower. He lets the warm water wash away the dirt and blood and tears, but his rage stays in place. He finishes up and goes back downstairs.
“Bucky? Honey?”
He remains silent as he tries to go to his room. Winnie stops him in the darkened hallway.
“I thought that was you,” she says as she moves to give Bucky a kiss; he flinches away from the action and his mother narrows her eyes.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asks before turning on a light switch. “Bucky, what happened?”
“Nothing,” Bucky says as he tries to step around his mother; Winnie gently holds out her arms and stops him.
Bucky lets out a ragged breath and leans against his mother. He lets her hold him as hot tears spill from his eyes. She strokes his hair down with her free hand.
“Oh my sweet baby,” she whispers while holding her son. “What happened. You can tell me, honey. You can tell me anything.”
“I – I can’t,” Bucky sobs.
“Yes, you can,” she says gently as she hods him tightly. “You’re my baby. I’ll protect you. Just tell me what happened?”
“I – I hate him.”
“Who?”
“Giorgiy Baranov,” Bucky finally says. “I fuckin’ hate him.”