The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Twenty five

I check my phone for the fourth time in two minutes, the screen flashing 02:13.

I'm starting to regret napping earlier.

My last text to Peter was at 00:30, and since then I've been twisting into increasingly creative positions in an attempt to find sleep. And quite obviously, I'm failing.

Every time I close my eyes I see Lucy's terrified face staring back at me, her wide blue eyes stoking the burning fire of guilt deep in my heart. Acid simmers in my throat, so strong that I sit up from the mattress, cursing under my breath.

Looks like I'll be awake for the rest of the night.

I sit and stare out the window for a long while, watching the lights of New York City flicker, drowning out the gentle twinkling of the stars.

Eventually, thirst drives me cautiously from my room.

I open the door carefully, glancing both ways up and down the corridor even though it's pitch black. Padding down the hall on bare feet, I cringe at the cold clutching my toes, transferred from the freezing marble. Everything is still as I make my way down the steps.

The main room is dimly lit by the glowing streets framed in the one huge window, lighting my way. I reach the kitchen without tripping in the low light and open a cupboard above my head, carefully extricating a crystalline glass. Filling it quickly, I take small, swift sips, allowing the fresh liquid to extinguish the acid lingering in my throat.

Letting out a sigh, I pull the cool cup away from my lips, wiping away a stray drop on my chin. I stifle a yawn before taking a couple more gulps, emptying the glass. Turning to the tap, I refill it half way.

I lean back against the counter, glass in hand, and lazily study the dark space before me. Only then do I notice the figure sat on the sofas, observing me silently.

The cup slips from my hand as I reach instinctively for my hip. My fingers search for a gun that isn't there, adrenaline shocking every single neurone in my body.

Glass shatters loudly as my drink connects with the floor. I flinch at the noise, jumping despite being the one who dropped it in the first place.

"Shit." I mumble, pulling my gaze away from the shape of Bucky's broad shoulders as I stumble back, trying to avoid getting a stray shard in my foot. I grab a couple of sheets of kitchen towel, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as I sink to the floor.

Cursing under my breath, I try to collect the shattered glass into a small pile. I dab blindly at the floor for a few moments before the room is suddenly lit up by the over head lights. Jaw clenched, I glance up to meet two piercing blue eyes.

Bucky stands stiffly at one end of the kitchen, his figure looming even higher over me than usual with my crouched position.

"I'm sorry." I mutter, cheeks burning as I desperately try to gather together the tiny shards. A small hiss escapes me as a splinter embeds itself in the flesh of my palm.

Another pair of hands appear next to mine. I glance up at Bucky's face as he keeps his gaze carefully on the floor. He uses his metal hand to sweep all the pernicious fragments into a pile, scooping them into his palm. The soldier collects as many pieces as he can before standing up to empty them into the bin.

I bite my lip, embarrassment still surging through my veins. In his absence I work quickly to mop up the spilled water with a paper towel, gathering any stray fragments as I do so.

Once I'm pretty sure I've got everything I stand up, keeping my eyes low as I go to the bin. Every fibre of my being is oh so very aware of the super soldier with the metal arm stood mere metres away. I dispose of the paper towel and retreat to a safe distance, looking up only when the island is safely between us.