Chapter Text
The first time it happened, it was just after Bucky moved in with his latest fosters and was given his very own room for the first time since his Mom died. When he squinted into the mirror with water dripping down his face, having just stuck it under the faucet to calm himself down, he could have sworn he caught a flash of blond hair just below his height. However, there are things about a young Bucky one must be made aware of before we can go any further, and so we must return to those very first moments in the Daniels' household.
Guided by a gentle hand on his shoulder as they made their way up the stairs, Bucky had to suppress the hopeful flare whispering enticingly in his ear that this would be the last one. They would love him and he would stay. He would be good, be the best son in the world if only they would keep him. Bucky's unfortunate luck with foster parents since his mother's untimely death was by no means his fault, not that he saw it that way having gone through five whole homes - group and otherwise - in the short year since. There were the Hendersons, who, having struggled to get pregnant for the better part of eight years, decided a dramatic move to eastern Europe was what they needed to rejuvinate their marriage. Next came Mrs Shorter, an older woman with plenty of love to give but a heart unable to hold it.
Following this, and having been the one to find poor Mrs S gone to a better life in her battered floral chair that sunny afternoon, Bucky entered his first group home. Being younger than quite a few of the boys he shared with, it will come as no surprise that he became the subject of the anger which had been brewing in the older boys at their own lack of a stable home.These particular boys were curious things that could be counted upon in their embittered jealousy to ensure that the hopeful innocent were quite quickly brought into their terrible reality of rejection, pain and loneliness. In the three months Bucky spent in Maxwell Drydon Home for Boys he quickly adapted to the rougher treatment of older boys and harsh taunts often sent his way.
Most of his tourment circled around the two homes he'd already been moved from. Being placed in three homes in under six months spelled disaster for the future if the boys were to believed in their hissed whispers as they shoved him into the cupboards. At first, Bucky turned his nose up at their biting words but soon as the days slid by without a hint that he would be removed anytime soon...well, that certainty began to falter. It seemed daily reminders were constantly thrust under his nose that he was unwanted, too old to ever be adopted when everyone wanted a cherubic-faced baby yet to be soiled by the world and it was this thought that sunk its teeth into seven year old Bucky Barnes. His mother was dead. The only one in the world who had to love him had died and left him alone. He'd lost his only chance at family the moment she decided to pop down to the grocery store for milk only to be mugged and killed.
Tragically, the loss of young Bucky's hope, too, was a mistake. Having thought Bucky's case was easy to handle the powers-that-be in the Department of Social Services left him in the care of an eager, if not a little naive, social-worker. Said social-worker believed Bucky spent those months in Maxine Drydell's Home for Children, a very pleasant smaller group home that sought to ensure each child recieved personal attention to deal with issues such as finding dead foster parents 'asleep' in their chairs. Alas this error was not picked up until much later and as such, nothing could be done about it.
In the wake of his harrowing stay with the Boys Home Bucky resolutely decided from hence forth to become the perfect child, the likes of which his next fosters would never see coming. Well, he was right in that regard. The well-mannered, soft-spoken, endearing young boy that the Williams family found themselves with was the last thing they expected, but was much appreciated. Until they were busted for using said sweet little boy to traffic drugs in and out of the state in his backpack. Upon arrest all the deceptively ordinary-looking Mr and Mrs Williams had to say about the situation was that Bucky was perfect for it - no one would suspect the shy adorable child to be harbouring three kilo's of crack in his Ben10 backpack on a family trip to New York.
And now, faced with his fifth home if one didn't include his birth mother, Bucky was unable to process the mixture of anxious fear at failing these yet-to-have-faltered fosters that roiled in his stomach.
Mr Daniels, to his credit, could all but see the waves of worry radiating off the boy at his side and decided to give him a few moments alone in his new space after briefly pointing out the little bathroom. He did this despite his wife's nervous hovering just behind them, rocking on her toes like at any moment if either of them requested she bake a pie made of solid gold apples she would rush down and get started. Alas no such requests came forth and so she allowed herself to be ushered out the doorway with a soft touch from Mr Daniels, pulling the black door closed behind them.
In one of her strokes of genius Mrs Daniels came to the decision that it would be absolutely fantastic and life-changing if their little charge had a door painted in chalk-board paint with a variety of bright boxes filled with every shade of chalk known to man in his desk. As of yet Bucky had yet to notice this feature despite the cheerful 'Welcome to James' room!' Scribbled in loopy handwriting across the front of the door and the Daniels' were still unaware of his preference for 'Bucky' instead of 'James'. Both of these oversights would soon be remedied however and the happy glint that Bucky garnered from Mrs Daniels upon thanking her for the message - it was quite obviously a woman's writing after all - washed away a little of the tension that had settled across his shoulders since exiting the car upon arrival.
It was shortly after this little interaction that Bucky came face to face with a blond spitfire with defiant blue eyes from his bathroom mirror.
Having spent the evening cocooned in the warmth and easiness of the Daniels household Bucky barely even realised when he'd dropped his guard slightly - just enough for him to forget to do the dishes after dinner despite having been told he was free to watch TV with Mr Daniels. This seemingly insignificant event had panic ripping through Bucky's whole body, a litany of 'they're going to send me back now oh no what have i done' tumbling through his mind despite the gentle banter happening between the fosters in the livingroom. Barely remembering to excuse himself - he truly never would have forgiven himself if he'd forgotten that, too - Bucky dashed up the stairs and into the safety of his room to work through this terrible misstep and the counteraction that needed to be taken because of it. Having spent a whole minute staring at the unmarked door-come-chalkboard he decided he still was not safe to fully absorb his actions, not when Mrs Daniels could just walk in at any moment. And so, Bucky retreated further into his bathroom and proceeded to stick his face under the tap to cool his overheated cheeks.
The afformentioned flash of blond he managed to convince himself was simply a trick of the light due to his water-bleary vision. However, the frighteningly clear bloodshot eyes were a whole other story. Before he knew it Bucky was scrambling back from the mirror, effectively tripping over the fluffy dark blue mat on the floor and going down hard with a yelp. This yelp was what alerted his unwanted blond guest to the peculiar bathroom he could just make out beyond his own tear-stained reflection. Any further investigation into the mysterious eyes in their respective mirrors was brought to a halt, however, when Bucky who prided himself in his seven year old's tried and tested common sense decided to get the heck away from creepy ghost people hanging around in mirrors and bolted from the bathroom not a second later.
Bucky made it his mission over the next week and a half to ensure his bathroom door stayed firmly shut just in case any poltergeists wanted to start up any funny business. It was hardly a problem with the full bathroom just down the hall for him to use as he wished but the Daniels did find it rather odd just how emphatic Bucky was about not using his en suite.
It came to a head when Mrs Daniels flitted through the house searching for any washing and, having found only two shirts and a pair of shorts of Bucky's in the entirety of his stay so far, was certain he was hoarding them in that bathroom.
Her little plan to pop in and out unnoticed while Bucky was downstairs watching a documentary on whales went slightly awry when he got bored and decided he wanted to draw on the chalk door. Had anyone been there to witness the eyes in the mirror themselves perhaps Bucky's reaction wouldn't have been seen as so extreme but when he cried out, dove at Mrs Daniels and knocked her into the pile of washing she had at her feet just as she was coming out of the bathroom, he knew there would be consequences.
Certain that his time with the Daniels' was over, Bucky had spent the afternoon packing up few belongings and sitting on his bed, glaring murderously at the cracked open door of the bathroom. Once or twice he caught a swirl of pale skin or blond hair which only fueled his loathing for the mirror. As soon as the front door clicked open followed by a cheery greeting from Mr Daniels, Bucky's heart sank. This was it. Home number five gone all because of a stupid mirror with stupid blue eyes and stupid washing. He could imagine the fosters talking downstairs about what to do with him, most probably concluding it would be best if he was returned to the Boys Home.
A spike of fear burst through his body when Mr Daniels knocked once then poked his head into the room.
Taking in the little boy perched on the end of the bed, eyes wide with worry and a spark of anger made Mr Daniels chuckle softly. He offered a small smile in apology then sat beside his young charge.
Neither said anything for a long moment, until Bucky gathered the courage to ask, "Are you going to send me back?"
In the years to come Mr Daniels would think back on this simple question and the vulnerability that coated it whenever he found himself wondering just what he and the Mrs were thinking when they thought they could raise a child. The answer was simple: to make sure questions like that were never said with such sincerity ever again, as if they were defective toys to be sent back to the factory.
With heartbreak for all Bucky had lost, Mr Daniels simply pulled him into his side for a half hug. "No, son. We're not going to send you back. I promise." In an effort to rid his throat of the suspiciously tight feeling Mr Daniels coughed once then raised an eyebrow down at Bucky's disbelieving expression. "Do you want to tell me what happened today?"
That wiped away the surprise and replaced it with embarassment and frustration that pulled down Bucky's brows and resulted in a pout. He cast his head down, slightly long brown hair flopping over his forehead as he kicked his feet against the bed and mumbled something under his breath.
Amused by the sulky display Mr Daneils smothered another smile and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together. "What was that, James?"
Dejected but secure in the fact that he wouldn't be returned just yet, Bucky sighed loudly, sat up straight and said once more, looking Mr Daniels directly in the eyes. "There's something in the mirror and Mrs Daniels went inside and i didn't want her to get hurt."
Well. That wasn't precisely the answer expected but taking in the utter seriousness with which this statement was proclaimed gave Mr Daniels pause. "The bathroom mirror?" He clarified.
Bucky gave a grim nod.
Mr Daniels took a moment to think over how he would approach this, "What did you see in it?"
Having lost a bit of his confidence while the image of the blue eyes was running amock in his head, Bucky whispered, "Scary blue ghost eyes."
Aware that asking if Bucky had only seen his own blue eyes reflected and gotten a bit frightened was a big mistake,Mr Daniels gave an understanding "Ah.Well, it's not very nice of this ghost to be hanging around in your mirror is it?"Bucky gave a jerky shake of his head in agreement.
"Maybe you should tell him that." The gentle suggestion had Bucky's breath hitcing with worry over having to go into the bathroom again. " After all, I'm sure he just needs to know that you won't put up with his scary tactics any longer and he'll go away. It can't be fun stealing peoples mirrors to frighten them if they aren't scared now can it?"
It took Bucky a long while to accept Mr Daniels' logic but once he did he gave a soft sigh and said firmly, " Okay."
Mr Daniels ruffled Bucky's brow mop fondly, "Do you want me to stay here while you do it? I'll come right in if he tries anything."
Growing more empowered by Mr Daniels' theory Bucky declined the offer, sure he could stand up to the ghost mirror on his own. With his work done Mr Daniels patted Bucky on the shoulder, wished him good luck and left the boy to his own devices.
It only took a further five minutes for Bucky to order himself to go through with it and so, with his chest puffed up and eyes narrowed in what he hoped was an intimidating way, he marched into the bathroom, pointed a finger at the mirror and opened his mouth to give it a piece of his mind. Only, there was a slight issue with this plan and it was that Bucky was faced with no eyes but his own. After a further fifteen minutes of scouring the mirror for any sign of the eyes, Bucky gave a dejected sigh and deflated. Well then.
Casting a glance at the door which had bounced back and closed behind him thanks to the force with which he opened it, he decided no one was leaving this bathroom until that ghost was gone. In reality he was worried that if he left he wouldn't be able to pluck up the courage to come back in. Prepared to be there for the long haul, bucky tucked himself against the door, brought his knees up to his chest and prepared to glare at that mirror until ghost eyes appeared.