Necessary Good, Unnecessary Evil | No rest For Wounded Souls [Bucky Barnes]

A Life Of Nightmares

"A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent."
-William Blake

****

Nova's POV

My sleep is interrupted by heavy breathing, and the second I open my eyes, I hear screaming.
My hand reaches for the lamp next to me, and I look around.
"Bucky?" I stand up, and my heart sinks.
Bucky sits on the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees and his eyes wet with tears.
"What happened? Are you ok?" I squat down next to him, trying to figure out if he's hurt.
His whole body shakes as he keeps sobbing.
"Hey," I whisper and stretch my hand forward, trying to touch him, but as soon as my fingertips brush his arm, his head snaps up.
He grabs my throat with his metal arm, pushing me against the wall.
The air gets knocked out of my lungs, and I start to panic. I try to get Bucky's hand off my throat, but his grip gets tighter, and I gasp for air.

"Bucky," I try to call, but my voice comes out as a rasp.
The look in his eyes terrifies me, and I use my power to force him to loosen his hold.
I start coughing, rubbing the tightness out of my throat.
"Oh my... Nova," He whispers and crawls to me, but I push myself back, looking at him, still scared.
His face drops, his brows knitted together with worry.
"You're having night terrors?" I keep my eyes on him, still not sure if I can trust him.
He sits on his heels, rubbing his face.
"I'm sorry..." his eyes stop on my neck, and I see my reflection in the mirror.
I have red marks around my neck, and he presses his lips together.
"I didn't want to hurt you." He croaks, looking at me with pleading eyes.
He leans against the wall, taking deep breaths.

I get in his mind, and he knows but lets me see for myself if he's telling the truth.
My stomach twists and I look away.
He's being sincere.
I slide back closer to Bucky, standing in front of him.
His hand moves towards me, and I flinch back but realize he's not trying to hurt me.
He traces the marks on my skin with his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath.
His head falls on my shoulder, and my hands hesitate on his back.
"I'm so sorry," he breathes, burying his face in my neck.
I stroke his back, "I know," I mutter and let him calm down.
"Wanna go back to bed?" I ask after a while, and I feel his head nodding against my neck.
I help him to get up and make him lay in bed.

My hand reaches for my underwear, and I put them on. 
It's starting to be cold out of bed, but I can't find my t-shirt.
"Take something from my closet," Bucky whispers, looking at me.
I turn around, seeing the closet door left ajar.
There are a lot of dark clothes, and it's hard to tell what is in there, so I just grab a shirt and put it on.
I drag my feet out of the room, going to the bathroom to clean myself.
My body is a little sore, and I'm starving.
It's just gone two in the morning, and I should probably go back home.
But is Bucky going to be alright?
I mean, I'm sure it's not the first time this has happened, but leaving him in that condition feels wrong.
Maybe I should stay till morning, or at least make sure he gets back to sleep.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, noticing the marks on my neck already starting to turn purple.
My eyes stop on the already bluish marks on my collarbone.
Two different marks, telling two distinct stories in the space of only a few hours.
I sigh deeply and leave the bathroom to return to Bucky's room.
He's lying on his side, his hands clasped together under his cheek.
He stares into the space in front of him, visibly lost in his head.
I get back on the bed, sitting with my back against the headboard, and look down at him.
There are so many things flooding my head right now, but none of them makes sense.

"Are you ok?" I whisper, and he nods his head, still not looking at me.
"Do you want me to leave?" I ask. He doesn't answer.
I hold my breath as he drags himself up and wraps his arms around my leg and waist.
I let him rest his head on my lap, running my fingers through his hair.
His mortified face is still vivid in my mind, and a sad realization hits me.
Bucky has been going through all the shit I'm going through.
Nightmares, night terrors, and all.
But he's been here way more than me.
I know how exhausting it is to be unable to sleep at night, and I can't imagine how it is to live like this for so long.
Am I ever going to be able to sleep? Or maybe I'm also destined to a life of nightmares.