The Convicted Hero

Past Relationships

I train with Nat, working on my hand combat while also working on my knife fighting skills, I end up slicing my hand open by grabbing the blade instead of the handle.
"Shit, I'm sorry Nat. I gotta go clean this up and then we can keep going." I smile running out to the bathroom. She nods, I get into the bathroom looking in the mirror letting the blood drip from my hand into the sink. I look down to my hand watching the blood drip and run down the drain of the sink. I reach for the tap turning it on with shaky hands still being shaken up from what had happened nights before with Bucky.

I look at the bruises that he had left around my neck. This isn't the Bucky I know. The Bucky I know would never lay his hands on a woman like this. Not even if he had a metal arm. He would never.
I touch my neck with bloody hands getting blood everywhere, still being tender I wince a little when I touch it. "Fuck.." I whisper under my breath. I continue to wash my hands looking over my shoulder often still not convinced he's not there, and maybe this time I could talk to him. Fix things.

I do blame myself for what happened, if I could've fixed what happened and just been able to talk to him, we could've been in a different situation then this one. Training everyday scared they're gonna come back at any second.
I finish cleaning my hand walking back out while wrapping it in bandages, sighing as I do. Then cracking my knuckles as I walk back into the training room grabbing my knife looking for Nat.

I pull my hair out of its ponytail as I watch the others train. I sigh looking over my shoulder, as it's becoming second nature to me.
I get startled when Steve puts his hand on my shoulder. I scream jumping a little grabbing him. "What the hell?!" I yell at him.
I realize who it is, dropping my knife on the floor letting go of him then running out.

Fuck..

I run to my room slamming the door, still checking the corner behind the door. I sigh walking to my bed, sitting on it.
I grab my journal and a pen from my nightstand I start to write.

"Well hello again, journal thing." I begin.

"Today I've just about lost it. I swear I'm going crazy. Looking over my shoulder has become a painfully noticeable habit of mine, almost second nature.
Why I ask myself? All because of what happened. Hoping that if I do it enough one time he'll actually be there and I won't be crazy. Maybe this time things could be different.
Maybe this time we could talk about it.
Yep. Going crazy."

I look up again. Nothing. I continue writing.

"If things were just different in every aspect of the word different. That would be amazing.
But I can't help the feeling of being watched. Like someone is always there waiting for me to mess something up.
That would be something now wouldn't it?
I haven't seen Bucky for years, and the feeling I feel is something straight out of a horror story.
I fear for my life.
It's not how I used to feel when I thought of him. When I used to think of him it gave me butterflies now only thoughts of how he's already planned my death in a singular move of his metal arm.
Metal arm? I don't remember him having that when he left.
As well as today thinking that Steve, the only one who can help me, was Bucky trying to kill me.

I've lost my way."

I stop writing when I hear my door open, I look up with fear. It's just Steve. I sigh in relief. "Maybe knock next time." I close my book putting it in my nightstand instead of on top.
"I did. A million times, Bella. I thought you were dead so I walked in." I nod.
"Sometimes I wish it." I laugh a bit. He glares not liking the joke. I clear my throat pressing my lips together looking out the window.
"Are you okay, Bella?" He asks, but somehow it seems like he's scared to.
I cock an eyebrow. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" I turn to him.

He shrugs walking into my room more, sitting on my bed. "No reason, you just seem a little on edge." He speaks with a tone I almost recognize.
I laugh grabbing one of my throw pillows and start playing with the corner. "I'm just a little shaken from seeing Bucky. It's not everyday you find out that the love of your life you sent to war in the 40s is actually alive and holding you in a chokehold, or a killing machine." I look to my pillow moving my gaze away from Steve.
He nods looking to the window. "If it's any closure, we didn't catch him." He chuckles a bit when I throw the pillow at him. "How is that closure? Closure would be telling me he's in the basement and I can talk with him about what happened. Are you stupid?"

He nods play looking back at me. "Yeah I know. Horrible closure. But at least you're talking to me again."
"Not by choice." I mumble.
"It's still a plus side!" He shouts as he gets up and walks to the door again.
"Steve?" I call to him. "What was he like? When at the war, what was he like?" I ask not quite sure I was ready for the answer.

He sighs turning back around. "He was relentless, Bella." He grabs the chair from my desk pulling it to the foot of my bed, sitting on it. "He was a fighter and he did crazy things that no other man even thought about doing." He looks to the ceiling taking a deep breath, seeming like he was trying not to let something out.
"What? What is it?" Our eyes lock.
"He was a phenomenal soldier, Bella." I smile at his words.

He goes on for hours about the way Bucky was during the war.
I find myself in awe of his stories, smiling and laughing every so often.

***A while later***

"Will he ever come back, Steve? Will I ever get to talk to him again?" I ask, titling my head to the side. "Our relationship was something out of a movie, and I didn't and still don't necessarily want to lose that again." I bite my lip a little. "We were supposed to have a family. We were supposed to grow old together." I look up to Steve. "But we never got to do that because of the draft."

He nods looking to the floor. "I don't know, Bella." He whispers.