SOMEBODY TO DIE FOR
Summary: Elizabeth Jones is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent frequently on missions with the Avengers. When one mission backfires, she is left to deal with the resulting trauma and some unresolved affections for a certain Sergeant ...
Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/OC
Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+ smut, language, graphic depictions of violence and torture, implication of non-con elements (on the antagonist's side), self-destructive behaviour, so much angst and trauma, eventual fluff and happy ending
Word count: 14638
Notes: Hello there, fellow Bucky simps, it is wonderful to see you.
I started writing this thing shortly after watching episodes 1-3 of The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, although this fic has nothing to do with the series at all, it simply served as inspiration. The story got a little out of hand and was originally meant to be a short, self-indulgent, silly little thing, but well, here we are. I do hope you enjoy it. If you want, you will find this fic on AO3 here.
Love,
Katie
P.S.: @sventeen-daybreak, in case you were wondering, this is the fic I was talking about that I couldn't shut up with.
P.P.S.: Also I am apparently overly motivated, I made a playlist for this, and there is a second moodboard.
~~~
The room is pitch dark. I hate the dark, hate when I can’t see. I can hear Steve in my earpiece, trying to coordinate this mess of a mission.
Boy, did it go wrong. So quickly, too. Civilians cry and scream above me in the upper levels. I hope they get them out before it’s too late.
“Steve, civilians on the second floor, western wing”, Bucky’s voice crackles over comms. I release the air I’ve been holding. They will get them out. I know they will.
“Got it”, Steve answers.
“Top floor’s clear”, Sam notes.
Carefully, I take a step forward. All my senses are heightened in the darkness. Gun out in front of me, I advance further into the room. Back against the wall. Slowly, my eyes are getting used to the dark, dusty room. It smells like old plastic and metal and reminds me of the copy rooms in the library I used to go to as a kid.
I start to make out the shapes of old computers around me. Lines of shelves full of old folders and crates. Jackpot.
“I found something in the basement. Looks like they used the hostages as a distraction, there’s all kinds of data down here.”
Steve’s answer crackles into my earpiece seconds later, “Anything of value?”
I step up to one of the hulking grey computers on the nearest table. My eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness surrounding me. As dusty and unused the rest of the room looks, the computers are surprisingly clean.
“They’ve been used recently.”
“You alone down there, Jones?”, Bucky asks.
“Seem to be. Can’t hear anything other than the scuffle upstairs.”
“Be careful”, he just huffs, then I hear gunshots cracking in the distance.
It feels wrong. If the hostages really are a distraction, why would the basement be deserted?
“I don’t like this, Steve. It’s too quiet.” I murmur.
“Can you get in there, Jones? Find what they’ve been hiding?”
I hesitate. It’s not that I think I wouldn’t get in, but I’d have to let my guard down. The bad feeling in my stomach builds.
“Sam, can you have Redwing scan the basement for heat signatures? Make sure I really am alone down here?”
“Sure thing, J. Gimme one sec”, I hear him grunt.
I wait, gun in both hands. Then, “All clear.”
The gun placed next to me on the table, I gently lower my fingers on the keyboard. Clean, too. Not unused, though, the letters are fading. I reach into my pocket to pull out a flash drive and shove it into the PC's slot. The machine begins to whizz, then the screen lights up. Within a few seconds, I have a scanner running. Nothing.
“Seems they prepared for this kinda situation; I need more time if I’m to get something outta these things.”
“You have three minutes, then we have to get out of here. Take what you can get. Anything else we’ll have Tony have a look at later at the –“
An explosion shakes the building around me. I instinctually grab the gun. Dust falls around me like snow.
Then everything happens at once.
“This is a distraction, they’ve set the place to blow, Steve!”, Bucky shouts over comms. I curse, sticking the flash drive into my pocket.
“Get out of there, Buck! Jones, you too!”
Gun drawn, I make my way over to the door.
“Shit, Jones, you’ve got company!”, Sam shouts and I freeze.
Down the hall, I can hear the shuffling of boots. Three. Maybe four.
“How many”, I murmur into the earpiece.
“Four, more coming from the other side!”
I’m surrounded. This was a trap the entire time.
“Stay low, I’m coming.” I can hear the strain in Bucky’s voice, a grunt as he fights his way down to me.
“They blew the stairs, Bucky, we will have to find another way-“
“Five more from the east, Jones! Get out of there!”
I flatten my back against the wall. Breathe. You’re not going down like this. This is not the end I tell myself, feeling my pulse quicken. This is a trap. I am trapped.
Comms are silent. The first HYDRA agent steps through the door and I shoot him in the neck. He goes down and the next one follows. Shouting words in a language I only know broken pieces of, he dodges my bullet, going for my legs. One shot misses, I react only on reflex as I kick his legs out from under him and lock him between my thighs, firing at the next one.
“I’m coming, Jones.” Bucky huffs over comms.
“Busy”, I growl as the next guy pulls out a knife and swipes at my arm, narrowly missing the skin.
The door on the other side of the room bursts open and gunfire erupts around me, Bucky, I think, but I am only greeted by more Russian. Scrambling, I duck behind one of the office chairs for any kind of cover, bullets coming from both sides. One of them just misses by mere millimetres and punches a hole through the soft backrest of the chair.
It is then that I pick up what the agents are saying. It’s only bits and pieces, broken sentences, but I hear hostage and leverage and take her alive and then I hear winter soldier. And I understand.
“I can’t get to her, Steve, I can’t – I don’t know how –“ I hear him over comms. I can’t allow him to get down here. They can’t get him.
“We’re gonna get her out of there, Buck, just –“
“Listen to me!”, I grunt as an agent slams me to the ground and I barely roll out of the way of his fist coming down.
“They’re here for Barnes, you can’t come down here, they are only here for you, you need to leave –“
“I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Bucky growls.
“It’s a fucking trap, Barnes! Quit playing hero and get out of –“ A bullet catches me in the abdomen and all the air leaves my lungs in a pained yelp.
“There’s too many of ‘em, Steve, she can’t take ‘em all!”, I hear Sam’s voice in my ear.
They’re closing in now. I scramble for my gun, but someone kicks it away against the wall. I curse and grab the knife from my belt, slashing at the arms that try to grab me. I lost track of the entire situation, I don’t know how many are in the room with me and the low, thrumming feeling of despair in my stomach tells me what I already know. I am not escaping this. I can’t get out.
“Leave,” I croak over comms again, trying desperately to at least have him not run into this trap like I did.
“Please, you need to leave –“ a second bullet pierces my shoulder and I hiss at the sharp pain erupting in my upper body.
“No fucking way, Jones.”
“Buck she’s right, this is exactly what they want, we have to find another way!”
A fist meets my jaw, my head snaps back against the wall and I taste blood from where I bit my tongue. I try to deflect the next blow but the knife in my hand swings wide, then someone twists it out of my grasp. I look up into cold, green eyes.
“Jones? Jones, do you copy?”, Bucky’s desperate voice shouts into my ear and I pray to anyone who will listen that he stays far away from these people, that Steve has some common sense. He can’t allow them to take him.
Another fist throws my head against the wall and I feel a light, warm trickle of blood tingling in my hairline. My vision is blurry. The faces before me swim and merge into one, then break apart into a million.
“Please”, I whisper.
“Jones? Tell me you’re still there. Please, Jones, I –“
“You need to leave, Bucky, please –“
I feel myself being lifted up from the ground, hands under my arms, my feet dragging on the ground. The wound makes my shoulders scream in pain. I think I’m crying.
“Promise he’ll be safe”, I manage to get out. A slap against my bruised cheek. “Stop talking”, one of the agents commands in broken English.
“Nobody will hurt him, Jones.” Steve answers calmly, but I can hear the fear below.
“No, Jones, no, please, Steve we have to help her –“
Muffled voices around me. Pain shooting through my shoulder and abdomen, my head pounding.
“Jones, please, answer me.”
My throat refuses to work. The agents keep dragging me down the hall. My eyes flutter closed.
“Jones?” Bucky’s desperate voice pierces my heart. But he will be safe. I know Steve will make sure of it.
“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.” Tears push past my eyelids. He will be safe, I keep telling myself.
“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“, a muffled sob shoots through comms and my heart breaks for him. There is so much I want to tell him, but I can’t bring my mouth to obey me. The air around me changes, the stuffiness of the basement gives way to something cleaner, more polished. They will take me and hold me hostage for the others to come save me. This is all part of their plan; it must have been from the beginning. I can’t allow them to use me to get to Bucky. He has worked so hard to be free from HYDRA, it can’t all have been for nothing.
I feel myself being placed on the bottom of a van, the motor rumbling through the metal beneath me. My eyes blink open. I can’t let them use me. The man next to me has his gun leisurely dangling from his hand. With all the strength left in me, I push myself up into a kneeling position and grab the weapon.
I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, I can’t let them use me, fear rushes over me as I put the gun against my temple and try to pull the trigger, but my fingers slip, the last bit of strength I had leaving me when I need it the most. The men around start to shout, the nearest one kicks the gun out of my hand. Another one pushes me to the ground. I know they will use me. And I can’t stop them.
“I’m sorry, Bucky”, I whisper before they rip the earpiece out. My last link to him gone. I sink down to the ground and something heavy hits my head, sending me into oblivion.
*
The first thing I feel is the light. It sticks pinpricks through my lids, no matter how hard I clench them shut. Artificial light piercing my brain.
The second thing I feel is the pain. My whole body aches as if I’ve been run over by a truck. I can feel the place my head hit the wall, the blood now crusty and tugging on single hairs in my neck. I feel the gunshot wounds on my shoulder and my abdomen, searing pain creeping through my body.
The third thing is the cold. They stripped me down to my underwear. I shiver against the freezing metal chair beneath me. Drawing a slow, wheezing breath I dare to open my eyes.
More sharp, artificial light. A tiled room. Someone standing over in the corner across from me, casually leaning against the wall in stark contrast to the environment. Glancing to the left and right, sensing the empty space behind me, I seem to be sitting in the middle of the chamber. I breathe in and out again, coughing as the air hitches in my dry throat.
“Oh, you have awoken”, a voice rasps in broken English and it takes me a few seconds to realise it belongs to the person across from me. The man saunters over to my chair and stops just short of touching my knees. I have to look up at him. He wears a lazy smile and his green eyes glint in the harsh lighting. My mind flashes back to earlier in the basement. The same cold, green eyes. His tac suit has been exchanged for something more put together, a collared shirt and suit pants. He feels overdressed.
He curls a calloused finger around my chin and lifts my face higher until my neck hurts from the unnatural angle. The muscles in my shoulder twitch and a pained whine escapes my lips. It only broadens his smile. I hate myself for it. I want to scream at him, claw his eyes out, punch him, anything. But my body won’t obey me, and I’m strapped to a chair.
His fingers stroke my chin and I turn my head away to somehow try and escape his touch. “Now now, don’t get all pouty on me.”
I keep my eyes locked onto a chipped tile in the wall. It has the tiniest piece broken out of it, in the top right corner.
“Pretty thing”, the agent whispers above me and a chill runs down my spine. I don’t want to know what comes next.
His hand slides over to the back of my head where my hair is still caked in blood.
The crack in the tile almost has the shape of a star if you look at it the right way. Like the star that used to be on Bucky’s arm, my delirious brain thinks. God, I hope he stays as far away from these people as possible.
“They will come get you, pretty girl, and then he will be ours again.” Please god, make him stay away from them.
“Maybe we can have him kill you. Just for fun.”
He told me what they did to him, once. On a balcony at Stark Tower, at three a.m.
“Can’t sleep, huh?” Bucky’s metal fingers clink onto the railing as he steps out to the balcony.
I shake my head. “Nah.”
The sounds of New York at night-time are rushing below us like a river, dampened only by the height we are standing at.
“Tough mission?”, he asks, and I nod absentmindedly. Too much death. Too many casualties. It was supposed to be a stealth mission in an empty warehouse and then suddenly it was outside. Crowded. The screams and looks of terror are still burnt into my brain.
I sigh and turn around, elbows propped up on the railing. I look over to him on my left.
“And you? Tough mission?”, I repeat his question.
He shakes his head. “Nightmare.”
His eyes are underlined in dark purple, his hair a mess, he is standing out here in a pair of sweatpants and a dark shirt. Must have just gotten up. He notices me studying him and looks over. I lift an eyebrow.
“Wanna talk about it?”
I can see him hesitate. His eyes dart over my face. “Intense stuff. Wouldn’t wanna keep you awake with it, too.”
I snort. “Not like I can sleep anyways.”
My eyes fall to the scratch on my arm. “I just …” Sometimes I feel like I don’t suffer enough for all the lives I fail to save. I don’t dare tell him.
“I heard what happened today.” His low rumbling voice smoothes over a rough patch on my heart, and suddenly the lump in my throat is just the tiniest bit smaller.
“There weren’t supposed to be civilians.”
I close my fists and feel the familiar sting of the nails pressing into the soft skin of my palm.
“It was supposed to be a quick mission. In, out. Just the files. No death. And especially no civilians.”
He extends a hand to my left fist and carefully pries it open. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
I look at the red crescent moons my nails left in my skin and can’t help but remember the red hole in a young woman’s forehead. My stomach lurches and I press my hand over my mouth, biting my tongue. Tasting blood.
“It’s not your fault.”
I want to believe him so, so bad.
“How do you know?” My eyes search his face for something, anything to reassure me in the fact that I couldn’t have saved them.
“How do you know I couldn’t have done better?”
His fingers still cradle mine and rub calming circles over my hand.
“Because I know you by now, Jones. And I know you always give your all.”
But it’s not enough.
“You can’t do more than that, Jones. None of us can. All we can do is do our best and save as many people as possible.”
The screams still won’t leave my brain, though.
“I see them when I close my eyes, Barnes. I see their scared faces, their still faces, empty eyes turned upwards and I can’t –“ A violent sob breaks out from my body and I curl my arms around my chest, trying to keep myself from falling apart.
Bucky slowly walks over until he’s standing in front of me, gently placing his hands on my arms.
“Jones. Hey.”
But all I hear is screams of innocent people, all I see is lives cut short. My knees give.
He catches me as I fall and then we’re sitting across from each other on the metal floor.
“Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to have this, Barnes, to live, while all their lives ended before their time”, I manage to push out. I never told anyone this before. But I feel like he would understand.
“Hey, look at me, J.”
I try to steady my breathing and look up into his slate grey eyes, cool and soothing. For a few seconds, we just sit there silently, no words, as the hiccup sobs die down slowly.
“This is our job, Jones, we try to save as many people as we can. Think about how many more had died if you hadn’t been there.”
“None, Barnes. If I hadn’t been there, if there had been no mission, they would have just continued living their lives.”
He sighs.
We don’t talk for a while. Above us the dark night sky of New York, below us the bustling nightlife.
“You still wanna know about my nightmare?”
I look up at him, pulling my arms tightly around myself. And nod.
With a sharp twinge of pain, I get pulled out of my memories.
“You listen when I talk to you, bitch.”
Three other men have moved into the cell, one of them stepping close to the agent in front of me and quietly talking to him. I can’t make out the words, but as the agent steps back, the man before me is smiling a violent smile. I can see a chipped front tooth.
“They will come get you, darling, they just need a little motivation.”
I feel the punch coming. It still hits me unprepared, head flying backwards as pain blooms from my jaw. My ears are ringing.
The agent pushes back his sleeves and pulls a phone out from his pockets.
“Look alive”, he trills as the sharp light of a camera flash hits me. I squint too late, shapes dancing over my closed lids. A second punch hits me, the eye this time. Suit-guy chuckles gleefully as he slowly stalks around me. When he crouches down next to the chair, I shiver, his lips against my ear.
“You know what we will do now, darling?”
I couldn’t answer if I wanted to. Flashes of torture ghost through my head and sickening fear crawls up the walls of my stomach.
“We’re gonna call your friends and see if that doesn’t quicken their pace. I don’t wanna sit around here waiting for Mr. Barnes to show up. We got work to do.”
My stomach lurches. “No”, I cry, and “Please”, but he just grins down at me menacingly, holding the phone out in front of him.
The room is silent except for the beeping of the call. He put the phone on speaker.
“Who is this”, Bucky’s voice shoots out after not more than three seconds and I have to bite my tongue to not cry out.
“I’m sure you figured that out by yourself, Sergeant. We have something you want. Come and get it.”
Biting my lip, I shake my head. Please don’t come. Please.
“Where the fuck is she”, Bucky growls through the speaker, and I can almost see him clench his teeth.
“Oh, don’t worry, she is right here. Darling, won’t you say hello to your friends?”
I press my lips together and glare at him. In the background, I can hear low voices, Steve, and Tony too.
“I’m not going anywhere until I know she is alive.”
One of the agents steps behind me and places both hands on my shoulders, thumb pressing into the wound. I feel the bullet under my skin, wedged deep into the flesh. White-hot pain shoots through my body and I wince, desperately trying to be quiet. I can’t give them what they want.
“Listen to me, Barnes. Here’s what is gonna happen. You will come to a location I will send you shortly, and you will come alone. You won’t put up a fight and then, maybe, we will let her go.”
The cold, thin blade of a knife is placed against my throat and my breath hitches. My nails push into my palms as I try to stay quiet, refusing to make this any easier for them.
But then the agent pushes his thumb back into my shoulder. And I can’t move away because of the blade at my throat, and I try, I try so hard not to make a sound, but the pain is blinding, and I cry out.
“See, she is here. Stubborn though, I see why you like her –“
“I will kill each and every one of you. I will make you suffer until you wish you never set foot on this godforsaken continent.“
“Fine by me. As long as you come alone. We can take you, Barnes. You’re not invincible.”
And with that, he ends the call.
The knife is removed from my throat. The thumb from my shoulder. And I hate myself. I should have pushed against the blade. They would’ve stopped, they need me alive. Instead, I caved. Made him hear me.
Because I know he will come. But I also know he will be blind with fury, and they will take him, and make him their Soldier again. All because of me.
“See, darling, that wasn’t too hard, now, was it?”
Slow, hot tears roll over my cheeks. He has the audacity to wipe them away.
“It’s amazing what love can do to people. Almost too easy to break him, now.”
I scoff. Love. “The fuck do you know about love”, I snarl at him, and he smiles, as he crouches down again.
“Enough to see it in people. Enough to use it to my advantage.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
He downright wheezes with laughter, and I hear the others chuckle underneath their breath.
“Sure he doesn’t. And here I was, thinking you were smart …”
He doesn’t love me. I’m his partner, part of the team, he’d do this for anyone. We stick our heads out for one another, it’s just how this works.
“I guess I should thank you, darling”, he muses as he gets up and saunters off to the door. “You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool. All heart-eyes and blind.”
He stops before leaving and turns around in the doorway. “The best part of all this is that he thinks he’s saving you.”
I look at him, head pounding.
“He thinks we’ll let you go when he’s here. I don’t see why we should. Two flies with one stone, you know. No, we’re gonna bring the Soldier out, and then he will kill you. Slowly, and painfully. See, that’s the best part. He knows what he’s doing, deep down. He’ll know. He just won’t be able to do anything against it.”
With that, he turns to leave.
“Hey, Viper”, one of the agents calls after him as they begin to leave the room.
“Lemme play with her a bit?”
The “Viper” seems to contemplate, before shrugging.
“Sure, why not. Just don’t break her. We don’t want her dead too early now, do we?”
A shuddering fear runs up my spine. The others leave the room, save the one who asked. As he closes the door behind him, a wicked smile on his face, for the first time I truly understand what HYDRA does to hostages.
*
My throat is hoarse and dry from screaming. Every single muscle in my body is aching, the sharp pain of the gunshots burnt down to a dull, rolling pain. I can barely keep my eyes open, drifting in and out of consciousness.
The agent before me grins violently, teeth bared. He opens his mouth, but I can’t hear, it feels like my head is wrapped in cotton. He drags a knife along my shoulder, my arms, down to my wrist, just enough to make me feel it. The cut is shallow, a burning line along my body. It barely registers. I feel like I am floating above myself, looking at the scene from a stranger’s perspective. Out of touch. Aloof.
He slaps me. I know my head flies to the side, I know blood spatters onto the ground. I know all this. But I don’t feel it. My wrists are still bound. They’ve gone numb by now.
After the first hour, I couldn’t cry anymore. After the second hour, I couldn’t scream anymore.
He left me then, for a while, leaving me to drift into merciful, dreamless unconsciousness. Then he was back. He looks like a shark in bloodied water, frenzied, thirsty for the pain he greedily drinks out of my voice, my eyes, the way my body reacts without me having any say in it.
I lose track of time. The windowless room, tiled top to bottom, claws at my sense of orientation and slowly pulls the ground from under my feet. It feels like days since I last saw daylight.
This was not how the mission was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a small thing. Minor hostage situation, yes, high stakes, sure, but nothing the four of us couldn’t handle. Nothing HYDRA, just a drug cartel. We went in fully prepared. But then it went tits up, too many opponents, more than there were supposed to be.
My nose registers a sharp smell, something wet touches my nose. My conscience is being dragged back to earth, to this broken room, this broken body. My eyes flutter open.
“Don’t you fall asleep on me, pretty.” He is back. His shark grin broadens as he sees my eyes register him.
“Can’t blame the Soldier for wanting a piece of this.” His fingers slide along my face, curl around my chin to lift it up so I look him in the eyes.
“You know, I been thinkin’, why should we let him kill a pretty thing like you right away? It’s not like we get girls this easy ‘round here often. Gotta use the opportunity.”
My stomach roils and I can taste bile in the back of my throat. Please, no. Not this. Please.
His hands let go of my jaw and glide lower, over the sweat-and-blood-soaked underwear they graciously left me, and he pushes my legs apart. I am shaking, I realise, I can’t even stop myself. Cold terror washes over me at the sight of his hungry eyes. He reaches out to grab my hips.
And then everything happens all at once.
A metal arm wraps around his throat, lifting him up away from me and sending his hands scrambling to free himself.
“Touch her again and I will rip you limb from limb.”
The arm sends him flying against the wall, a sickeningly wet thud as his head impacts.
And then he’s there. I must be hallucinating. He is there, and he is alive, and he is himself. He is there. Bucky’s there.
“Fuck, Lizzie, please tell me you’re still in there. Please.” He sinks to his knees and cups my face gently, so gently. It can’t be real. I can only stare at him, drink him in, some kind of fever dream.
“Baby”, he whispers. His hands reach behind me to cut the rope they bound me with, and the lack of suspense sends me falling. But he catches me. I can feel his hands keep me from crashing to the floor and a tiny piece of me returns. He is real. He is here, Bucky is here, and they didn’t make him the Soldier again and he came. He came to save me.
“We need to hurry, this place will be crawling with agents in a few.” I recognise Steve’s voice and as my eyes blink into focus, I see him guarding the door.
They came for me. I’m still shaking, I realise, as I feel my teeth chatter against each other. Bucky’s eyes look heartbroken.
“Can you stand, Lizzie?”
I don’t trust my knees. I don’t trust my voice, either. Bucky takes that as a no.
“I will have to carry you, baby. Is that okay? We have to get you out of here.”
“Buck”, Steve’s voice is cold with warning.
I nod. I can do that, so I nod, the tiniest movement. But he understands.
Slowly, he stands back up, hands still holding me so I don’t double over, and he ever so carefully picks me up, cradling me against his chest. I feel his steady heartbeat through is tac suit. It feels like it slowly drums the life back into my body, pushing the numbness further and further away. God, my feet are cold. My whole body is cold. No wonder I’m shaking.
He carries me out of the room with Steve walking ahead. I curl up against him, closing my eyes against the bright neon lights above. I am safe now, right?
Right?
Shots echo in front of us. Bucky pulls me against him further.
“It’s okay, Lizzie. Everything will be okay. I got you now.”
“All clear”, Steve comments, catching his shield, and we continue. My head is thrumming. The feeling slowly returns to my body but with it returns the pain.
We round a corner and Bucky curses, ducking back around it and shielding me from the gunfire ahead. His metal arm pushes against my wounded shoulder and I cry out, cold sweat coating my forehead. Then it’s quiet again. Inside, my head feels like it’s about to burst.
We round another corner. Fast footfalls follow, then an impact. We tumble and he pulls me against his chest as we fall, but my head meets the ground with an angry thud. Black dots dance over my cloudy vision and Bucky snarls on top of me. The sounds of fighting ensue. I can only lay there, breathing shallow, feeling warm blood trickle down my head, wound newly torn open.
Then he is above me again, hands cradling my face.
“No, Lizzie, stay with me”, he whispers as my eyes flutter shut.
“You have to stay with me, please. Baby, please. Look at me.”
But the warm darkness is so welcoming, if I could just let myself fall …
“Lizzie, baby … please, I need you to stay with me.”
His hands pick me up so carefully, pulling me close against his chest again.
“I need you to stay awake, Lizzie. Please.”
I want to, so bad. But I can’t will my eyes to open. The darkness is all over me now. And I let go.
*
Dark, thick boots in front of me, barking voices, a hand grabbing me by the throat and pulling me up, up, up, until I look into a shark-toothed smile again.
“When I’m done with you, pretty, you’re gonna wish we’d let him kill you.”
Tears roll over my cheeks as he grabs my shoulders, knees giving out from under me as I crash onto the ground, the pain, god the pain, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much, please let it end, please –
I startle awake, hands frantically pushing up until I’m sitting. Breathing heavy, fists curled up into something soft. The room is warm, welcoming even. There’s no sound apart from my breaths. I am alone. That’s good. Nobody can hurt me if I’m alone.
Then the pain registers and my upper body implodes. I gasp and my arms give out from under me, having me fall back down to the bed.
There’s a knock at the door. It startles me, and immediately I am on high alerts again.
But HYDRA wouldn’t knock.
“Yes?”, I try to say, and wince at how quietly and croaky it comes out.
Nevertheless, the door opens, revealing a tousled head of red hair. Natasha.
“Hey, Jones.” She’s quiet as if trying not to spook me. Like a wounded animal. “How are you?”
I look around the room. This must be Stark Tower. The peace is in such harsh contrast to the last … hours? Days? I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real. How am I supposed to know if this is happening? If it’s really, truly happening, or if I’m just hallucinating? But Bucky saved me. Right?
“Is this real?”, I rasp out. Natasha studies me carefully.
“Will you believe me if I say yes?”
I don’t know, will I? But would it be so bad if it was a dream? It’s so quiet.
“Where are the others?”, I ask. Where is Bucky?, I mean.
“Safe.” She understands. “Strewn all over Stark Tower, working to shut that base down they kept you at.” She slowly approaches me, studying my face.
I try and carefully sit up, much to the dismay of my ruined muscles.
“How did – why were – what happened?”, I try to form a coherent sentence.
“Well, for starters, going in alone anywhere in this kind of situation is a no-go, so fuck that.” She wears a half-smile, pulling a chair over so she can sit, far enough from the bed to give me my space.
“I’m not gonna bore you with the details here, but long story short, someone kidnapped our friend, and we kicked their asses.”
I attempt a smile. Not sure if it works, if it doesn’t, Natasha doesn’t let on.
My throat is dry. I can’t remember the last time I drank something, I realise, right before my lungs explode into a coughing fit. The gunshot wounds pulse red-hot pain through my body and I collapse onto the bed again.
“It’s okay, Liz, here. You’ll be okay.” She reaches over and grabs a glass of water from the nightstand, before handing it to me and carefully stabilising my upper body. The cool water runs through my parched mouth and somehow it calms my panicked nerves.
Right as she places the glass back on the nightstand, the door opens again, gently, and a small whimper leaves my throat as I see him. He’s safe. He’s here with me and he is safe.
His eyes widen. “Thank god you’re awake”, he breathes and rushes over, falling to his knees next to the bed.
“I thought I’d lost you.”
My hands reach out to him and he grabs my fingers, carefully pulling them close. Something inside me shatters.
“You’re safe, you’re okay, thank god you’re okay, I –“, my words fail me as I break into sobs, “I failed you, Bucky, it was all my fault, I –“
He looks up into my eyes. “Shh. Don’t say that. I’m just glad you’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
*
It’s better, now. I don’t question my sanity anymore, my reality. When I wake up at night, drenched in cold sweat, asking FRIDAY who is on my floor and she tells me it’s Steve, or Natasha, or Bucky, I believe her. I know they can’t get to me anymore.
But I have gotten wary. Paranoid, even. Sometimes I ask FRIDAY to list the people in the tower over, and over, and over again. She does. An AI’s patience, I guess. I still wake up in the middle of the night, throat screamed hoarse, seeing monsters in the shadows. Or in the too-bright lights. Feel phantom fingers press into my shoulder and force my legs apart.
The gunshots have healed well, thanks to the skilled hands of the Stark Tower’s med bay. They still hurt, sometimes. It’ll be a wrong movement and a twinge of pain will shoot through my shoulder or my stomach. I’ll grimace and pull through.
There’s new rules, too. Nobody goes in alone. Anywhere. Ever.
And I’ve been avoiding Bucky. He spent the first days keeping vigilant watch, at my bedside or outside the door. His absence hurts somewhere deep inside of me, a deeper pain than the gunshots, something the pain killers can’t reach. But I can’t look him in the eyes. If I hadn’t gone into the basement alone, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have endangered him.
There is an empty feeling in my chest that I will start to notice whenever it gets too quiet, whenever my brain has time to roam. I miss him. I miss our late night balcony talks when we both can’t sleep. I miss the bickering at the start and end of successful missions. But I can’t go back on missions yet. And worse than missing him is the guilt.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, told me it wasn’t my fault. Steve got all emotional. Fury short and to the point. Natasha with a sharp look in her eye. She understood. To Sam I almost spilled my heart out, he has that effect on people. And of course, Bucky. Again, and again. In the first days, when he didn’t leave me for longer than two hours, and later on, too. The few times we do meet in a hallway, when my eyes look anywhere but into his. I know he says it to ease my mind. I know that he probably even believes it, but I can’t.
He told me, once, that he remembers every single person he killed while under HYDRA’s influence. Every target, every civilian that got into the crossfire. He told me of the torture they put him through. The cryo. And because of me, he almost fell back into their grasp. And I just can’t make myself not feel guilty about it.
Some days I wordlessly stand on Sam’s doorstep, running shoes in hand, hair in a ponytail. I think he understands the need to run from my thoughts, from my brain writhing and clawing at itself. I know he wants to talk about it. He knows I don’t. And he won’t push.
The gym is empty as I step into it quietly, pulling the door closed behind my back. My eyes roam around the room.
“FRIDAY, anyone in here with me?”
A short pause, then: “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”
I breathe out the air I held in anticipation. I go look for a place slightly out of sight from the door, that still allows me to quickly observe the entire room. Waiting for another few seconds, I ask FRIDAY again. Still alone. Just me.
Mechanically, I go through stretches. Lunges. Sit-ups. I don’t listen to music while working out anymore, too distracting. Too easy to be surprised. Instead, I concentrate on the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Still, my mind wanders. The last couple of missions have not been great. Mostly successful, yes, but too many casualties. Not to mention the last one. I was clumsy. Careless. Not quick enough, not strong enough. Not good enough.
I find a punching bag and let loose on it. Throwing punch after punch, blow after blow, until I’m panting and sweat is dripping off my forehead, plastering strands of hair onto my skin.
Next punch.
Crying hostages.
My fist flies into the bag again.
A young woman running in front of me, staggering in her panic, then a stray bullet hits her in the head. Her vacant eyes come to rest on me as she falls.
My knuckles curl and I punch the bad again.
Bucky’s voice over my earpiece, pleading, begging.
“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”
Skin connecting with fabric.
A green-eyed agent, sneering down at me.
“You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool.”
I grit my teeth and my fists meet the bag again.
And again.
And again.
Dark spots dancing before my eyes.
I continue. It’s all my fault. It wouldn’t have happened if I had been stronger.
One more punch.
If I had been faster.
I feel myself swaying.
I’m not good enough.
*
I’m not out for long. My first thought when I come to results in a frantic question to FRIDAY.
The AI answers patiently. “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”
Same answer as always. It’s soothing, a sense of normality. Of routine. I take a look at the clock. Nine p.m. Time to take a shower and go to bed, I suppose. Not that I expect to be able to sleep. Walking to the elevator, I contemplate having Natasha knock me out cold so that I can for once experience the benevolent veil of unconsciousness.
Halfway up to my floor, the elevator stops and the doors open. Immediately I step into a defensive stance before I realise it’s just Steve. Just sweet, kind Steve, whose heart I can see break in slow motion when he sees my reaction.
“Hey, Liz.”
I sigh and my shoulders drop.
“You okay?”
I’m not sure if I will ever be the same. I’m not sure if I will ever not flinch anymore when someone I didn’t spot moves too quickly. I’m not sure if I can ever look Bucky in the eyes again. I’m not sure –
“Yeah.” I attempt a smile, but it crumbles before it can become convincing.
The elevator picks up speed and Steve leans against the wall.
“I feel like things between you and Buck have been … strained, lately.”
Putting on my best façade, I throw an innocent look his way.
“What do you mean?”
He sighs, lifting his eyebrows at me, but indulging my little act.
“The two of you were different, before. Partners. Joking around, and I do understand it’s hard to fall back into it after what you went through, but Bucky …”
My eyes snap towards him.
“… I don’t know. It’s not my place to say anything.”
Whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.
“Everything is fine between Barnes and me, Steve. Same as before. I just don’t go on missions yet, so we don’t see each other as often. Right?”
He studies me for a moment, arms crossed.
“Right.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
When the elevator stops again, we’re on my floor, and I make my way out of the doors. Just before they slide closed again, Steve puts his foot between them.
“Liz, wait.”
I turn around, back against the wall.
“I just …” He struggles with what to say and what to keep to himself.
“Don’t let this ruin something good. Don’t let them break you, still.”
There is an ache in my chest. Deep-rooted, a few inches below my left shoulder.
“Yeah”, I manage. He studies me for a few more seconds, then he steps back and lets the elevator close between us. As soon as he is out of sight, my shoulders slump forward. Don’t let them break you, he says. They already did.
*
I wake up with a gasp. Silent terror behind my eyes. My brain making up scenarios.
Bucky came alone in this one. Unarmed. Prepared to offer himself up for me to be let go, but I know they won’t. They told me.
So they take him, and break him, and then they let him loose on me. I don’t have enough strength to run, to fight. Not like I could.
He is upon me quickly, metal arm around my throat, squeezing until there are tears escaping from my eyes.
But his eyes are his own. Tortured look behind the cold façade, eyes wide in terror. I can see he knows what he is doing. The panic of not being able to stop his body from complying.
I shake my head. Brush my hair off my sweaty face. The usual question to FRIDAY. The usual answer.
My gym clothes are still lying in a pile on the ground next to my bed and I slip into them. Need to get the images out of my head. Try to, at least.
The gym is empty. No surprise, if I am honest, it’s the middle of the night. The same time Bucky and I used to meet on a balcony, each fighting our own ghosts.
I find the punching bag again. It feels good to have an impact on something, an ounce of control over something that can’t hurt me. My muscles still burn from the last time I was down here. The bag gets pushed to the left, to the right, and I feel the skin on my knuckles heat up. Then crack open. The sharp pain crawling over my hands feels good, too. It is nothing, compared to the pain I put innocent people through. To the pain I almost put Bucky through.
The familiar dark, dancing spots creep into my vision. They beckon me with honeyed lips to give in, and I grit my teeth through the oncoming dizziness.
Behind me, a door falls shut, and I flinch and whirl around, staggering at the too-quick movement. Dark hair, slate eyes, underlined in violet. Bucky, my brain registers, before my vision blacks out for a second and I feel my knees connect with the mat below me.
He’s there in an instant, hands steadying my shoulders. The touch sends shivers down my arms. My vision clears again, and I attempt a carefree expression. The look on his face tells me he is not convinced.
“It’s fine. I’m fine”, I try to tell him with a reassuring smile.
He is on his knees before me, reluctantly letting my shoulders go. Eyes still studying my face, he huffs out a breath of air.
“So are you gonna tell me what you’re doing down here in the middle of the night?” He sits back onto his heels, still kneeling on the ground. I want to reach for him, touch him, pull him so close to me that nobody will ever get to him. Instead,, I just curl my hands into fists and cock an eyebrow at him.
“What about you?”
“Can’t sleep”, he explains, and I shrug.
“Well, there you have it.”
I can’t look directly into his eyes. He is too good at reading people, something born from trauma and survival instinct.
His hands are resting on his folded legs, metal fingers calm on top of his right hand. He’s wearing his “I woke up in the middle of the night and can’t sleep” outfit, sweatpants and a black shirt. Reminds me of the nights spent talking on the balcony. It’s like HYDRA took this from me, too, this small refuge after a day spent trying and failing to save people. The time he spent putting all the pieces of myself back together.
“So you go down here and punch a bag until you collapse?”
I shrug again, trying to keep the raging storm that is my mind inside for nobody else to see. His shoulders sag a little and he angles his head so that he can look me in the eyes.
“Can you at least look at me, Lizzie?”
Something compels me to do so. Maybe it’s the pet name. He is the only one who ever calls me Lizzie, everyone else says Liz, or J, or Agent Jones. Bucky usually only uses it when we’re alone. My mind races back to a few weeks ago.
“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”
His broken voice replays in my head.
“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“
I only just now realise. He never called me baby before, either. I feel like I’m missing something, like the pieces are there, just out of my reach. It frustrates me.
“You’re not fine, are you?”, his smooth voice is the last straw, gently pushing into the walls I put around my heart in the last few weeks until they burst. There’s a lump the size of a tennis ball in my throat as my breath hitches and my shoulders sag and then hot tears spill out of my eyes and I can’t stop it from happening.
“Lizzie, no, hey, come here.” He holds his arms wide open and waits for me to give him permission to touch me. No pressure, just an offer. I feel my hands reach out and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest. My fists clench into the soft fabric of his shirt and I curl up tighter around my aching chest. He just holds me. Gentle hands stroking soothingly over my back, up, down, up again, down again. And fuck, he feels like home.
The sobs die down into quiet hitching breaths, dull stitches in my sides. Bucky remains where he is, not saying a word, just holding me.
“I feel like they broke me”, I finally gather the air to whisper into his chest. He presses his lips against my hairline, silently waiting for me to continue.
“I’m sorry, Bucky.”
He stirs, then.
“What for?”
“I let you down.”
It’s the first time I am saying this to anyone. I don’t know what it is that makes me tell him, of all people. But it feels right.
“No, Lizzie, you didn’t.”
I look up, blinking the tears away until I can see his eyes.
“I put you in danger. They almost got to you because of me.”
Bucky sighs. “They almost got to me through you. Not because. None of this was your fault, you know?”
I roll my eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me it wasn’t my fault and yet I let them take me, and I was the reason you came to them and for some reason, you got fucking lucky enough to not fall right back into their hands!”
His face is calm, collected, even, but I see the pain in his eyes.
“None of that happened because of you. It happened to you. What were you supposed to do, fight ten of them and get out unscathed? Nobody does that, Lizzie. It was a damn trap.”
I fist my hands into his shirt. “And I walked right fucking into it, didn’t I?”
“We all did. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”
“You don’t get it, do you? It was my fault. I knew something was wrong and I stayed down there in that goddamn basement!”
“What did you do wrong?”
I pause. He looks directly at me, eyes locked onto mine. “Tell me what you did wrong.”
Something inside me cracks.
“I let them take me even though I knew they would use me to get to you.”
My fingers are still closed into his shirt. “I tried to fight them off, I even tried to –“ My voice breaks and I swallow against the lump in my throat.
“I knew they needed me alive, so I …”
His eyes are studying me carefully and I can see the slow realisation of what I am about to tell him dawn in the back of his mind.
“One of them was careless with his gun. I tried to put a bullet through my head”, I whisper, not daring to look at him.
He inhales sharply. “Lizzie, no …”
“I was too slow.”
“Baby …”, he whispers, in a voice I have never heard from him before. He sounds small. Broken.
His arms wrap around me carefully, as if scared I might shatter if he pushes too hard. His scent envelops me, pines and leather and metal, underlined by clean linen and sweat. It’s strangely soothing.
“Please promise me you won’t do that again. I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.”
My hand flattens against his chest, heart pounding underneath.
“It wasn’t your fault”, I whisper against him.
“No, it was. They were there for me. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
I want to grab him by the shirt and shake him, remind him it’s not his fault, it’s them, that he never did anything wrong. Instead, I just shake my head.
“We weren’t careful enough, Lizzie. We should all have expected it to be a trap. Me, Steve, Sam, too.”
“Don’t say that”, I mutter into his shirt.
“Can I tell you something?”
I nod.
“Can you look at me while I do? Please?”
I sigh, but look up at him, skin itchy from the drying tears.
“You can’t keep putting the blame on yourself whenever something goes wrong.”
My shoulders slump.
“It doesn’t make anything better, you hear me? It doesn’t help anyone. It just makes you sink deeper and deeper into your guilt. And trust me, I know what that’s like.”
He pries my fingers from his shirt and gently folds them open. His thumbs smooth over my palms, circling around the crescent scars in the soft skin.
“There is enough pain in this world, Lizzie. And you’re putting yourself through enough already. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to me, too. It’s not your fault.”
When I fall into bed later, it’s the first time in weeks that I sleep through. Probably just the exhaustion.
*
I lie awake again, the next day. This time I never even fell asleep. There’s too many faces when I close my eyes. Too many screams. The voice of a green-eyed viper.
A noise outside my room spooks me into sitting up. Slow, sluggish steps on the corridor. They stop right in front of my door, then it’s silent.
“FRIDAY, who else is on this floor?”
The AI answers dutifully. “Currently, you and Sergeant Barnes are on this floor, Agent Jones.”
Bucky? It must be Bucky outside, then, anything else security would have picked up on.
A few seconds later, there is a quiet knock. I rub my eyes and fully sit up in the sheets before I answer. The door opens, just far enough for him to stick his head through.
“Heard that you’re awake. Can I come in?” His eyes look haunted.
“Sure.”
I pull the blanket closer to my body as he kneels down next to the bed.
“You can sit on the bed, you know?”
His chin resting on his left arm, he slightly cocks one eyebrow. “I did not.”
But he doesn’t move. He just looks at me and I at him, until his intense gaze gets too much to hold. My eyes roam over his face, the stubble on his chin, the curve of his jaw, the worried lines on his forehead.
“I’m so glad you’re safe”, he whispers, and my eyes return to his.
Something compels me to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, along his temple. His eyelids flutter closed. My palm comes to rest along his cheek, and he melts into the touch, my thumb caressing his cheekbone.
We just stay like this for a few minutes, for once not battling our inner demons. Savouring the peace we have in this moment, knowing the other is safe here.
It’s me who breaks the silence.
“Why’d you sit outside my door?”
He blinks a few times, adjusting to the soft lighting in my room, too bright after the darkness behind closed eyelids.
“Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you”, he mumbles against my wrist. He lifts his right hand and I reach for it, fingers intertwining.
“I’m okay”, I whisper and he squeezes my hand.
“Sometimes I ask FRIDAY if you’re safe”, he admits and I smile. Seems we both use the AI as a support system. Although that’s what she’s there for, I guess.
He’s still kneeling before me and I shake my head.
“Come on, the ground’s a little cold, don’t you think?” I pat the blanket next to me.
“You sure?”, he mumbles and I nod. He sits up, still holding my hand. “I wouldn’t want to – “
I roll my eyes, “I offered, Bucky”, and shoot him a small smile. He shrugs and smiles back, standing up and crawling across the blanket to where I’m leaning against the headboard. The warmth he emits slowly engulfs me and it feels so safe, so much like home, that I move closer to him almost subconsciously.
“C’mere”, he mumbles and tentatively puts his right arm around my shoulders. He pulls me closer until my head lies on his chest. Intuitively, I inhale his scent, so undeniably Bucky, and sigh. Slowly, we both sink deeper and deeper into the bedding until we’re both lying down, and I curl one leg over his, foot threading between his shins. My arm comes to rest over his stomach and I feel his slow, steady breathing. It feels so right, my body against his. Like we’re made for each other.
I feel tempted to shake my head at myself for that thought. I’m tired. No idea how late it is but considering he had woken up, it has to be at least midnight. Probably past that.
“Can you promise me something?” His low voice rumbles in his ribcage, amplified by my ear pressed against his chest.
“Hm?”, I answer, half asleep.
“Next time you wanna punch a bag until your legs give out, tell me?”
I huff against his shirt. There’s a part of me that wants to scream I’m not worth his time, his concern, but the other part just misses him so fucking bad. And I’m just glad to have him back, so I nod.
“Good. Thank you. Now try and sleep, you need it.”
His steady breathing gently lulls me in.
*
The bed next to me is empty when I wake up. Immediately, I jump, heart pounding, but then I hear the shower running. He’s still here. I try to calm myself down again. The shower is turned off, and a few moments later Bucky walks through the door, hair still wet, wearing only his sweatpants. He pauses, towel in hand. A few stray droplets of water catch the light, glistening across his bare chest. I can’t help but follow the trail of muscles down, down, until my eyes get caught on the waistband of his sweatpants. I blink.
“’morning”, I rasp, clearing my throat.
A grin ghosts over his face, and I swear there is a smug glint in his eyes. “Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”
A blush creeps up my cheeks and I avert my eyes, stretching to cover up my embarrassment. “Yup.” Had to get caught ogling my team partner, didn’t I.
“For once”, I add.
His smile turns softer then, and he sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad.”
We just sit there for a while, stealing glances at each other’s faces. After what feels like an eternity, he clears his throat. “Breakfast?”
*
My fists fly into the punching bag. This time, it’s not being pushed around. Bucky is standing behind it, holding it firmly in his grasp, watching me closely and giving advice when he sees fit. It’s not the first session we share. Over the last few days, we have developed some sort of a routine, one of us showing up at the other’s room wordlessly, silent terrors behind tired eyes.
My time in the gym has become less self-destructive since, with him there to keep a close watch so I don’t push myself until I black out. Instead, he eases me off my adrenaline high, pulls me back out of my spiralling brain into reality. The time spent with him slowly fills the hole left by our nightly meetings on the balcony. It helps me tire myself out, I get to sleep through most of the times I go to bed afterwards.
“I just remembered something", I start one time we take the elevator back up to our respective floors.
He’s leaning against the wall across from me, elbows propped up on the railing. Sweat still glistening on his forehead, his hair a tousled mess, despite its shortness.
His eyes flicker over to mine. “Hm?”
I clear my throat. “When I was … held hostage by HYDRA, their commander said something, I never quite understood why.”
It feels … unsettling, to talk about that day. Bucky just looks at me patiently, without pressure.
“He said it was amazing what love could do to people.”
Bucky cocks an eyebrow.
“He was talking about you. Us. He said that it was easier to get to you because they had me.”
There is something in his eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on. He looks taken aback, almost. He flexes his right hand, still looking right at me.
“And I told him he was wrong. They thought they had you all figured out, you know? Thought they could convince you to come alone just because they had me, of all people. I mean, I guess Steve would’ve been harder to catch, but you know …”
He still hasn’t said a word. I start to squirm under his gaze, slate eyes intently watching me, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It dawns on me, then, that bringing up HYDRA playing mind games is probably not the best thing. Sure, he knows, but did I have to remind him of that? I want to punch myself at the pained expression on his face.
“I’m sorry I brought it up”, I murmur, not daring to meet his eyes. He slowly exhales, and part of the tension seems to leave him.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He attempts a smile. It fails so miserably it almost hurts.
The elevator doors open with a quiet ring. As if being startled awake, Bucky suddenly straightens up and walks through the door, muttering a “Goodnight” under his breath.
I look after him confused, doors sliding closed. It feels like I lost some small part of him. The elevator picks up speed again and I make for the door as it opens on my floor.
*
That night, my dreams are haunted by the pained expression on Bucky’s face, mixed with what my brain pieced together from the few things he told me about his time with HYDRA. I wake up shaking and sit up, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead.
“FRIDAY, can you check in with Sergeant Barnes? If he’s safe?”
“Sergeant Barnes shows no sign of physical distress, Agent Jones.”
Seconds later, there is a knock. I get out of bed and walk over, opening the door. Bucky looks at me with tortured eyes that widen with worry as he takes me in. “You okay?”, he asks softly, lifting a hand to brush my hair out of my face. I nod and take a step back, allowing him into the room. He closes the door behind him and I wrap my arms around my torso, still feeling guilty for the conversation we had earlier.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, as if he doesn’t know where to sit – or if to sit at all. I sit down on the bed and study him for a while. We both start talking at the same time.
“I’m sorry that – “
“I shouldn’t have – “
We stop, sheepish smiles ghosting over both our faces. Something flutters in my chest. It’s quiet then, for a while, until he opens his mouth again.
“I’m sorry that I just left like that. Earlier.”
I shake my head. “No, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step towards me, gesturing over at the bed. “May I?”
I nod, making room for him on the blanket next to me and he sits down, his weight shifting the mattress. He looks like he’s debating something in his mind, torn between one thing and another. I gently touch his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
He stills. Then he sighs. It breaks my heart seeing him this way, tense shoulders, eyes lined violet. He draws a slow and deep breath until he looks over at me. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
I blink, startled. He takes my surprise as hesitation and makes to get up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you – ” Before he can get up entirely, I wrap my hand around his wrist. He pauses, eyes flying to my hand and then to my eyes.
“Bucky.” He slowly breathes out. “Of course you can stay.”
I let go of his wrist and crawl up to the headboard, leaning back against it.
“C’mere.”
He follows, but instead of sitting next to me, he lies down, curling up with his head on the pillow. I extend my left leg and he inches closer, left hand coming to rest on my thigh. My left hand finds its way to his shoulder, tracing soothing circles over it and slowly up his neck until my fingertips are tousling his dark hair. I can’t help but muse over its softness. He sighs against my leg and I can almost see the tension leaving him, shoulders slowly slumping.
“Thank you”, he mumbles, barely audible.
“Any time, Bucky.”
*
I wake up later, barely, to his hands stroking my shoulders.
“Lizzie, hey.”
I squint and try to open my eyes further.
“Everything is fine, I just … your back is gonna hurt if you stay like that the whole night.”
I’m still leaning against the headboard.
“Mkay”, I mumble, eyes fluttering closed again. I think I hear him chuckle, then he gently picks me up and places me down on the mattress so that I’m in a proper sleeping position. My eyes blink open again when he comes to rest next to me, face inches from mine. “Thank you”, I whisper, and without thinking about it, I place a kiss on his cheek. The surprised look on his face barely registers with me, before I sink back into unconsciousness.
*
When I wake up again, it’s morning. Bucky has assumed the position I was in last night, leaning against the headboard, a hand softly placed on my shoulder. I look up at him and smile, eyes not yet fully open. He smiles back, the softest look in his eyes.
“Morning, Lizzie.”
I yawn and rub my eyes, rolling onto my back.
“You know, Bucky, I always seem to sleep better when you’re next to me.” My cheeks heat up as soon as the last words leave my mouth and I scramble to say something less embarrassing, I shouldn’t be allowed to talk until I’ve been awake for at least ten minutes, for fucks sake, but then he smiles.
“I do, too.”
The soft morning light makes him look ethereal, his eyes almost silver in the direct sun. He squints down at me, eyes roaming over my face, before settling somewhere below my eye line.
“You’re beautiful”, he says softly and I pause, before I sit up, his eyes following every movement. I can’t help but stare at him, painted in golden light, and yet he tells me I’m beautiful.
I move towards him until my knees almost touch his legs. His right hand slowly reaches out, carefully, as if to not startle me, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. He cups my cheek, thumb smoothing over my cheekbone and my eyes flutter closed. He moves closer, bedsheets rustling beneath his knees, and then I feel soft lips on mine. The ghost of a kiss pressing against me. My eyes fly open and immediately, he pulls back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I just – I can’t –“
His hand leaves my cheek and it feels strangely cold. Before he can pull back further, I grab his hand. Gathering all the courage I have, I look him in the eyes.
“Kiss me, Bucky.”
He draws a shaky breath and then he is there, lips pressed against mine. I close my eyes, curling my arms around his neck, and he grabs my hips, pulling me closer, closer, onto his lap. His hands slide over my thighs to the small of my back, and then upwards, until they flatten against my shoulder blades, holding me like he needs me to live. Maybe he does. Maybe I need him, too, I wonder, as my hands find their way into his hair, pulling gently.
He pulls me closer, rocking me against his abdomen and a small, breathless sound escapes my throat. Bucky moans in response, teeth nipping at my lower lip. His tongue follows and I melt into him, hands pulling him closer towards me. Almost on instinct, I roll my hips against him again. His fingers curl into my shirt as he groans, sending a rush of blood down into my core.
We pull apart then, panting, dizzy from the lack of oxygen. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. I shudder when his gaze meets mine. We’re still so close to each other, noses almost touching, breaths mingling between us.
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do this”, he whispers against my lips, and goosebumps trickle down my spine.
“You have?”
He nods, tongue wetting his lips. His right hand slides up around my neck, thumb smoothing over the sensitive spot right below my ear, following the curve of my jaw. I let my head fall to the side, baring my neck, eyes closing. He places a barely-there kiss against the skin, then another, tracing a line down to my collar bone.
“I’m a simple man, Lizzie. Give me a beautiful woman in a tac suit, and I’m done for.”
I chuckle and open my eyes, facing him as he lifts his head to look at me. “Really that easy, hm?”
He nods earnestly, corners of the mouth twitching up. “If she can also handle a gun? Man …” He sighs. “I suppose I’ve been in the military for too long.”
I shrug. “Well, me too, then.”
One eyebrow shoots up, then he grins, “How long you been here, Lizzie?”
I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I mean, Bucky.”
He acts as if contemplating whether or not he needs me to elaborate, then he gets a smug look on his face. “Yeah, I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes.”
I groan, hiding my face in his shoulder. His low chuckle turns into a hum when my lips meet his throat and I work my way up the same way he just did. My hands on both sides of his face. His fingers curl around my wrists and I look into his eyes.
“It’s not like I do much to hide … anything, really.”
“Anything?” He kisses the palms of my hands, holding them against his face.
“You just look good in black, Buck. Don’t tell me you don’t know it.”
He cracks a crooked grin, looking up at me through his lashes and I draw a shaky breath.
“No, I know. I’m old enough to see when a woman looks at me and likes what she sees.”
I roll my eyes at him and he chuckles.
“I’m kidding, Lizzie.”
He pulls me towards him and gently places his lips on mine. I sigh and can’t help but smile into the kiss, fingers playing with his hair. His tongue caresses my lips and I open my mouth to let him in. His hands drop to grab my hips, rocking me against him again and heat shoots through my body, lips suddenly become sloppy and desperate, my hands trying to get a hold of as much of him as possible.
He tips us to the side, keeping me close with his right arm and holding himself up with his left. Then he carefully places me onto the bed, lips never leaving mine. His fingers toy with the hem of my shirt, leaving butterfly touches on the skin below it. His mouth wanders, pressing kisses to the corners of my mouth, the underside of my jaw, underneath my ear, down the curve of my neck.
I bite my lip and my hands curl into his hair, following his movements slowly down my upper body. All the while his hands slowly push up my shirt, exposing the tender skin of my stomach. His fingertips ghost along the underside of my breasts. My breath hitches.
“That okay?”, he mutters into my ear, lips fluttering against my ear. I have to bite back a moan and can only nod. “Talk to me”, he adds.
“Fucking hell, Buck, just take my shirt off.”
He chuckles against my ear and pulls the fabric up, up, over my head. I open my eyes and catch his, roaming over the stretch of skin now exposed to him. He dips his head low to place a kiss on my chest, and then his hands are on my sides, tracing upwards. His thumb rubs over my nipple, cold metal in stark contrast to the fire inside me that he keeps feeding with each touch.
My hands pull on his hair and he moves up to me, lips pressing down and fingers caressing the soft skin. The clash of his cold hands on my chest and his warm lips against mine send a rush of blood into my lower body and I sigh into his mouth, before he leaves again. I complain until his mouth is where his fingers were just seconds before, closing around my hardened nipple, tongue rolling against it. A twinge of pleasure lets the muscles in my stomach contract and I gasp, my back arching up into him, reacting on reflex only.
His hand pushes me back against the bed, his mouth still kissing and nipping on reddened skin. Then he looks up at me and parts my legs with a knee, pushing upwards, gaze fixed on my face. He pushes further and my mouth falls open, making an effort to keep eye contact with him while he moves against me, coaxing a slow moan from deep within me. Still, I am looking directly at him. His lips part. I prop myself up on my elbows and only when my mouth meets his, I close my eyes.
“You’re gonna drive me insane, one day”, he mumbles between kisses and I smile lazily, lowering myself back down.
“Am I, now?”
I like the feeling of having him wrapped around my little finger and he knows it, sees it in the glint in my eyes and the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Hands placed on both sides of my body, he moves his knee against me again and I gasp.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, Lizzie.”
Then he dips down, kissing a trail down my stomach until he hits the hem of my sweatpants. He sits back onto his heels and hooks his finger into the waistband, cocking one eyebrow. I nod again, and he pulls them down, off my feet, leaving them to fall somewhere next to the bed. His hands slide up my legs until they meet the line of my panties and my breath hitches when his rough fingers touch the soft skin of my thighs. His lips follow his hands and now I am panting, head falling back when he follows the outline of the fabric against my skin. His hands placed on my thighs, his mouth placing lazy kisses against my stomach, and suddenly his thumbs stroke down my core, my back arching off the bedsheets.
He takes his hands off me, then, and I groan, propping myself up onto my elbows again.
“Quit teasing.”
He hooks his fingers into the band of my panties and cocks an eyebrow, waiting for my reaction.
“Talk to me, Lizzie. What do you want?”
I draw in a shaky breath, looking down at him with heavy eyelids. “Take them off.”
He obeys, pulling the fabric off along my legs and discarding it as well. He looks at me again and I groan, head falling back. He just waits until I’m squirming under him, and even then he doesn’t touch me. I lift my head again and he brings his head down to my thighs, peppering them with small kisses, just enough to make me breathe heavily but not where I actually want him.
“Bucky …”, I whine, and he hums against my skin.
“What do you want, Lizzie?”
“For you to use that snarky tongue of yours.” I get a chuckle from him for that.
“You’re bossy”, he mutters between kisses and I huff, hands closing into the blanket below me. “I like when you’re bossy.”
Before I can complain, he dips his tongue between my legs and licks upwards in one long stroke. I moan loudly before I can bite my tongue, hands flying into his hair. His tongue laps over my clit in a steady rhythm and all the air leaves my lungs, hands scrambling to hold onto something, anything, and clenching into the sheets.
“Bucky …”, I moan his name and he hums against me in response, sending goosebumps down my legs.
“Happy now?”, he teases, before going back to kissing and licking and I chuckle breathlessly.
“Almost.”
This time I don’t have to explain. He understands anyways and slowly slides a finger into me. I almost see stars for a second. Then he curls his finger upwards and I do see stars, the knot inside me coiling tighter and tighter with every lap of his tongue. I press myself against him, relishing in the white-hot pleasure shooting through my body. My back arches off the bed, thighs pressing against his cheeks. His left hand holds me in place and he adds a second finger, following the rhythm set by his tongue. I whisper his name over, and over, and over, like a prayer, and he responds with a hum, tingling against my overly sensitive skin.
He slightly changes the angle of his fingers and I gasp, the rising feeling inside me almost at its peak.
“Bucky, wait –“, I pant, and he stops immediately, lifting his head, concerned eyes meeting mine.
“If you go on like this I can’t promise to keep it together much longer.”
He licks his lips, the sight of him between my legs alone almost enough to send me spiralling. “I don’t mind.” He dips down again and I moan loudly and pull at his hair to get him to look at me again. He looks up at me, continuing to move his fingers and I swear I’m going crazy.
“But I do”, I pant, and he stops. I tug at his hair again and he pulls his fingers out of me, before crawling up to meet me. I sigh into the kiss, butterflies in my stomach at the taste of his tongue. I pull back just enough.
“I do, because I want you, Bucky.” He blinks, inhaling sharply.
“You sure?”
I kiss him in return, not bothering with a vocal answer. He takes it as a yes, kiss deepening as my fingers fumble along the hemline of his black shirt. He leans back, takes it off, and comes back to me again.
“You got a condom?”
I nod and roll over to reach for the nightstand while Bucky takes off his pants, before leaning down and pressing soft feathery kisses along my spine. I allow myself to savour the feeling of his lips against my skin, then I turn back around. He rips the condom open with his teeth. I sit up when he lies down, his hand reaching out.
Our fingers interlace with each other, he tugs and I follow until I feel him hard against my core. I suck in a breath and he places his hands on my hips, pulling me towards him. I lean forward and reach for him, and then he is there, slowly pushing into me. His fingertips press into my skin as I slowly lower myself down. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are watching me intently. I can’t seem to look away, he’s holding me in his gaze and we both moan at the same time.
Then I place my hands on his chest and roll against him, my hair falling into my face. His hands leave my hips and reach for my breasts, pinching and thumbing over my nipples, sending sweet jolts of pleasure down to where our bodies meet. My breath comes heavy, and when he starts moving with me, my mouth falls open. He grabs my hips again and holds me in place, before he suddenly flips us so that I’m below him. My hands fly up to the headboard, trying to find something to hold on to and he grabs them, pinning them above my head. My back arches of the bed and the angle changes slightly, I can almost feel it, he almost hits the spot, just –
His metal hand reaches for my knee and pulls my leg up against his hips, pushing my thigh back against me. It’s the exact change I needed. He hits the spot again, and again, and my head falls back, a string of nonsensical words leaving my mouth. He curses underneath his breath.
“Look at me, baby, please”, he whispers and I can’t help but obey him.
He thrusts into me and my hips roll against him, meeting him halfway.
“Fuck, Bucky, I –“
He groans in response, brows furrowed, sweat on his forehead. Every muscle in my body is tense in anticipation, I feel myself tighten around him. He moves his hand from my thigh to where we’re connected, thumb smoothing over my clit, jaw set as he adjusts the angle of his hips again. He hits the spot. Once. Twice. My hands strain against his grasp and my back arches and then I feel myself explode. My breath catches in my throat and my eyes snap closed.
“Dammit, Lizzie …”, he growls as I contract around him and then he follows me down, hand gripping my waist. His breath leaves him shuddering and his hips buck. One last swipe of his thumb that has me trembling underneath him, before he removes his hand and lets go of my wrists. My hands snake down and I grab both sides of his face. He lowers himself onto his elbows, one on each side of my head, and eases into a long, satisfied kiss. His hands curl into my hair that’s sprawled around my head on the pillow and I melt against him. Then he pulls back. Opens his mouth.
“I love you.”
I pause. Did he really – my eyes open, slowly, to not break the moment. Suddenly I’m staring directly into his eyes, noses mere inches apart. I open my mouth. Close it. He sighs, pulling away to better look at me.
“I’m sorry if that was a bit … forward. But I’m tired of hiding it. And I wanted you to know that this”, he nods his head down at our entwined bodies, “means something to me.”
He loves me. All the small moments I have been repressing for the last weeks come crashing over me like a tidal wave. “I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Suddenly I understand why he reacted the way he did when I told him about HYDRA’s comment. “It’s amazing what love can do to people.” And I really didn’t see it. Hell, even HYDRA knew. His reaction when I told him I tried to end it. “I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.” The times he spent in the gym with me, at night. On the balcony before that. The times he sat outside my room, just keeping watch. “Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you.”
“Can you … say something?”
I blink. Maybe I should react. That would be appropriate, I guess.
“That’s –“, my voice is rough and I clear my throat, “unexpected.” Bullshit, fucking hell, Jones.
He pulls away, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … goddammit I had to ruin it, didn’t I?” No, you didn’t ruin anything, I just don’t know –
“I’m sorry, Lizzie, I –“
I sit up and grab his arm, pull his hand away from his face. I take his other hand, too.
“I was wondering when you had started calling me ‘baby'.”
He huffs out a breath of air and closes his fingers around my hands.
“It just … slips. I don’t even do it on purpose, I just …”, he shrugs, a pained expression on his face, and I realise what this must be like for him. He sleeps with the woman he loves, tells her, and she freezes. I take a deep breath. Fucking hell, I’m an idiot.
“I love you, too, Bucky.”
The moment I say it, I realise its truth. Its utter, crystal clear truth. His eyes go wide.
“I’m just bad with my emotions. I’m sorry”, I try to salvage some of it.
He lifts a hand up to my cheek, staring at me in utter disbelief. His thumb smoothes over my cheekbone and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. Of course I fucking love him. I would’ve died for him. Didn’t even hesitate.
The softest of kisses brings me back down to earth. To where I am sitting naked on the bed with the man I love. I melt into it, arms curling around his neck, pulling him towards me.
“Don’t apologise for things like that”, he mumbles against my lips and touches his forehead against mine.
Then he squeezes my hand, “Be right back”, and with a peck on the lips, he gets up in the direction of the bathroom. I sigh and let myself fall back onto the sheets. There is a slight, sweet burn between my legs, a gentle reminder. I yawn, stretching in the sun like a cat that just woke up. When I open my eyes again, there’s a shadow in front of me. I blink up at him as he’s just standing there, watching, a soft smile on his face.
The sun is behind him now, lighting up bits of his hair like a halo. Sunshine suits his eyes, I realise.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking beautiful, Bucky?”, I mutter and he comes crawling over to me. There’s a slight heat to my cheeks but hell, I’m naked in front of him, and after what just happened it’s not like I can’t call him beautiful. He doesn’t seem to mind, at least.
“You’re cute, Lizzie", he responds, kissing my nose. I smile at that and pull him back down to me. We roll over onto our sides and he grabs the blanket, tucking me in and planting a kiss on my forehead. And finally, I feel like I can maybe, someday, be whole again.
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