Guns and Ammunition [] TFATWS

Two

Chapter Two:

She couldn't be the only one hearing his pleads, she thought as she stumbled to his door. Josephine knocked loudly, trying the handle. It spun back and fourth, locked.

"Hey," She called sleepily, knocking harder. "It's me."

His voice raised in panic, calling out somebody's name. Josephine's hand came down on the wood with more force, the noise loud enough to rustle a frame hung on the wall next to it. Bucky's voice faded, and moments later the door flung open. He stood across from her, light eyes filled with panic. Sweat beaded across his forehead, his hair slicked over with it.

"What's happened?" She questioned, as if this was new and not something she'd been finding herself doing for weeks now.

He stepped back, holding the door open, letting her in. Josephine stepped around him, hearing the door click shut. He took off back towards the living room, his makeshift bed in tatters on the floor.

"How bad?" She asked, finding herself at the window, pulling the curtains back to reveal the sleeping city. For once it seemed even New York had quieted down for his moments of unconscious sorrow. Her fingers found the latch and shoved the window open, a soft breeze kissing her skin. The room felt stuffy, and Bucky could use some cooling off. "Like last night?"

He blinked, falling onto the couch. He stared out the window, mouth forming a thin line in contemplation. Josephine turned and watched, his mind was working out what to do. She could see him bury his secrets, shoving back the memories that kept him from sleeping.

"Talk to me." She told him, walking to the couch, sitting next to him. "It sounded worse tonight."

"What?" He looked at her.

Josephine shook her head, "Why do you think I come here in the dead of night? I hear your pleads through the walls, I can't even imagine the amount of pain that your voice brings. Each night is bad, last nights extremely. But tonight, tonight it was somehow worse. What are you dreaming of?"

He sat back, hands dancing along the arm rest. There was no blanket to grip, no place to keep his jittering still. An anxious tick, she figured, having one too. His fingers landed on the dog tags around his neck, she noticed he always had them on. They clinked as he tapped at them, clutching them against his palm.

"They're just..." He sighed, shaking his head. This was difficult for him, guilt and regret clung to him like a shadow. "Nightmares. That's all."

Josephine couldn't help but stare, his gaze slowly trickling to meet her own. Nightmares. The kind of fiction, or the kind that forms in your worst memories, of the thoughts you bury so deep in your mind you pray they never unravel. The way he had sounded tonight and all the nights before, it made her believe they were nightmares derived of his worst thoughts and memories.
What could he have possibly done that haunted him so?

"Will you talk to me?" She asked, studying his face. The bags under his eyes were much darker, the lines in his forehead had multiplied. "About them?"

Bucky shook his head slightly, adverting his gaze back to the window. He would not talk about them, she wondered if he ever would.

"Am I bothering you, by coming here every night?" Another thing she always meant to ask, but would forget the moment she saw him. The last thing she wanted was to make him uncomfortable in his own home. If she wasn't welcome, she'd leave and have to ignore his sorrowful shouts from now on. "I can go."

"No." He said, "If you weren't, I would've never let you in."

Josephine snorted, "That's a good point."

If he would not talk about his nightmares, then she would distract him from them. Maybe then he'd go to sleep with something else on this mind, something that wouldn't fester into them.

"You should shower," She nodded at his shirt, once again soaked through with sweat. He wore a white one tonight, the pale colour of his skin visible through the sheer fabric. "It will make you feel better."

"You said that last night."

"And did you?"

"No," He answered truthfully, "And I felt worse waking up again."

Josephine chuckled, "Exactly. My advice isn't always terrible."

Sirens echoed outside, red and blue lights flashing in the distance. It grew louder the closer they approached, only a few blocks away, breaking the startling quiet. Bucky pulled himself up, shaking his head as he stepped to the window. Hands grasped the lock, slamming it shut, clicking it closed. He drew the curtains, turning but not meeting her confused gaze. Josephine rubbed her eyes, sucking in a breath as she stood up. "Since you're not comfortable telling me what's really happening in that mysterious head of yours, I will now try another method of helping."

A brow raised as he looked to her, eyes clouded with shadows she couldn't decipher. It was odd to see him like this. "And what will that be?"

"A shower. Now." She shooed him away, "With a clean pair of pyjamas. Alright?"

Bucky sighed, but nodded as he turned without another word and trudged to the bathroom. Josephine waited until she heard the door click shut before rushing out the front door. She stumbled to her own apartment, snatching her phone off the narrow table she kept by the entryway. Her feet took her down the dark hallway, taking the stairs two at a time. There was a small café at the ground level of their building, and for some reason it was open 24/7, she assumed it was some sort of new trend to get more people there.

The little shop was empty expect for the single teenager behind the counter, the boy greeted her with a friendly smile.

"Hey," He nodded, "How are you?"

Josephine shrugged, "I mean, it's three in the morning."

The boy chuckled, he seemed in too good of a mood for such hours. "What can I get you?"

Her eyes searched the glass case, it was surprisingly filled up, no empty spots were visible. She pointed at a small box, the label had delicately written words scrolled across, Assorted Donuts.

Bucky was probably hungry, and she wanted to try to make him forget whatever his nightmares were about. She just wanted to make him feel better, and she knew he couldn't resist a donut.

Josephine paid, and the boy handed her the box. She thanked him, scurrying out and back to her building. By the time she arrived back at Bucky's, he was standing in the kitchen in a new set of pyjamas, water dripping down his forehead from wet hair.

"Guess what I got." She said, placing the box on the counter. "A middle of the night snack."

He stepped towards it, sliding the box closer to inspect it. Josephine watched as he lifted the lid gently, peaking in.

"They're donuts, they're not gonna bite."

He still looked tired, but that was normal, most people looked tired a lot of the time. Bucky shut the lid, leaning against the counter. He crossed his arms, and in the t-shirt he was wearing she could see the entirety of his metal arm. Josephine never questioned it, but some days she was curious to why he had it. What had happened, and what made him want a metal one compared to a more realistic prosthetic. During the day he always wore a jacket and gloves, most likely to hide it. It never occurred to her she rarely saw him in a t-shirt or without the leather gloves.

"Does water mess up the mechanics?" She found herself asking, nodding to his arm. "Do you take it off in the shower?"

He looked startled, realizing what she was asking as he himself took a look at it. "No." He told her, "It's made of a special metal."

"Cool." She met his gaze, "Can you go through metal detectors without any issues?"

Bucky snorted, lips quirking up just a tad. "I've never tried."

She shrugged, jumping up onto the counter. Her legs dangled off, swinging them back and fourth. "We need to get you some furniture." She chuckled, "Maybe that would help, making this place feel cozy. Like a home."

He smiled at that, a slow one, the first one she'd seen in two days. He had a nice smile.

"Like a home." He mumbled.