Protect My Heart (Bodyguard AU)

Part 13

It doesn't feel right. It feels so wrong, like he's taking advantage of you.

Being here, back at your home, where everything began...it's not the same.

It feels wrong to be here when you aren't and knowing you'll never come back-it hurts.

When Sam, Hope, and Nat come back, he'll ask if he can stay in a hotel instead because Bucky can't stand the thought of staying in your home now that you're gone.

_________________________

You're playing with the star pendant that rests on your chest, your eyes grazing over the words before you, your lips moving as you mutter the words from the script.

Bucky's pretending to be reading, but he hasn't been paying attention to the newspaper on his lap for the past ten minutes. Instead, he's watching you. He watches how you mumble your lines, saying them in different tones with different expressions each time. You're talented, he knows. He watched your movie and admired your ability to make your character become to alive.

You groan and toss your script onto the coffee table, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting.

Bucky snickers and folds the newspaper, and placing it on the table, "Break time?"

"Yeah," you stand up with a grunt and stretch your arms above your head, "Can we go for a walk?"

He shrugs, "Sure," and stands up, watching as you rush upstairs to change into more "public appropriate" clothing and then back down, slipping your shoes on.

You and Bucky walk up and down the hills of San Francisco. It was in the mid 60s, weather wise, with a slight breeze. You'd consider it a good day. There was no need to make conversation. You and he just walked, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the city around you. One hand in his pocket and the other just hanging out, occasionally the back of his hand grazing against yours. But you never pulled your hand away whenever it happened.

Both you and Bucky felt comfortable being in each other's company in silence.

"Is there a way I can stay in a hotel until this is over?" Bucky asks Nat as she approaches Bucky sitting on your couch.

Nat shakes her head, her red curls bouncing as she does so, "Sorry, Buck, this is home base as of now and it's best if you stay here."

"It feels...wrong."

Nat sighs and sits down beside Bucky, her hand resting on his arm, "I know, but anywhere else isn't safe. This is the only place we can trust that nothing will go wrong."

"Everything went wrong here. If I-if we didn't spend so much time here, I wouldn't have gotten emotionally compromised. I would've had my head in the game and-and she wouldn't be dead," he says the last word as a whisper, feeling sick to talk about you in this way.

"You can't change what happened, Bucky, and you shouldn't blame yourself for this. It's all our fault. Not just yours."

"I fell in love with her, Nat. I loved her and I promised I'd protect her."

"We'll avenge her, Bucky. Don't worry. We're gonna bring these assholes to justice." she gave him a reassuring pat and then got up to speak with Sam, whom was awkwardly standing some feet away, trying not to pay attention to the vulnerable moment that occurred.

_____________________________

You told them everything. What happened that led to you faking your death and going into hiding. It felt so good to finally tell people about the hell you've gone through since you were young.

"Well....you're in some deep shit," Tony Stark, yes, THE Tony Stark, snorted at you.

You scoffed back, "Tell me about it. Thought I'd be past all this. Figured they'd forget all about me after all these years," you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and shrinking into the couch of the safe house you were currently staying in.

Stark rubbed his forehead, looking at the screens that displayed footage of Pierce and Rawlins over the past few weeks, "Well, we're getting really close, so this'll be all over."

You look to Hope who decided to stay back while Nat and Sam go help Bucky after he was discharged from the hospital, "How is he?" your face clear with concern.

"Still hurting, physically and emotionally. He doesn't wanna stay at your place while we continue this case. Said it felt wrong."

You nodded in acknowledgement, "I understand. I'd be weird about that too. I really hope he stays safe. I don't-I feel like he's going to do something irrational. You guys really need to keep an eye on him."

Hope pushed off the wall where she was resting, she waltzed over to you, her body straight with confidence, but her expression was filled with understanding and worry, "We're anticipating it, Y/N. Nat and Sam are keeping a good eye on him, well, mostly Sam."

"Bet he hates that."

"Those two are always bickering like an old married couple," Hope says with a laugh, which makes you laugh.

You enjoy the soft heartedness for a while, not have felt it since you've gone under. Your smile eventually fading back to sadness, "I'd tell you to send him my love, but, you know."

Hope gives you a reassuring smile and a nod, "When this is all over, you'll be able to do that yourself."

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Bucky is tossing and turning in his bedroom, well, your guest bedroom. His face is scrunched up as if he's in pain. Drops of sweat are scattered across his face and his breathing is rapid.

He keeps seeing you getting stabbed over and over again on replay. Whenever he tries to fight back, to get free, to save you, there's a sliver of hope...but then it always ends with you dead.

You're looking up at him as you're taking your final breaths, "You promised you'd protect me," you'd gasp before dying in his arms.

You promised...

You promised...

You promised...

Bucky jolted up from the bed, pressing a hand to his chest and gasping for air. His heart is rapidly beating. He feels like the room is getting smaller and smaller the more he stays inside. He has to get out.

He kicks off the bed sheets and marches out of the room, avoiding the walls that are littered with pictures of you with family and friends.

When he gets to the kitchen, he yanks open the refrigerator and grabs the milk carton. He hastily grabs two mugs and begins to pour the milk. One for him and one for-

He stops.

He sets the milk onto the counter and gently picks up the mug, your mug. He turns back and places it carefully into the cabinet. With a sigh, he takes his own mug and sets it into the microwave, warming it up for a few seconds and then relishing in the warm cup.

He stares blankly at the counter as he sips the warm milk, hearing your voice telling him about how warm milk helped you with your nightmares.