Destructive- Bucky Barnes, 18+ story-

Chapter 7

A loud knocking echoed through my apartment, startling me awake. My eyes shot open, and I instinctively grabbed the pistol I kept on my bedside table. With it between both hands, pointed safely down, I walked through my house, approaching the main door. The dark sky outside darkened my apartment, as I relied on my eyes adjusting to any natural light the moon gave. At the door, I unlocked it, and pulled it open a crack, to find Steve on the other side in a pair of blue and white plaid PJ pants, and a white wife beater.

I let out a small sigh, as I opened the door for him further, my heart racing in my chest. It was an old habit, but I always assumed the worse when someone knocked on my door in the middle of the night. With tired eyes and messy blonde hair, he looked at me apologetically.

"Sorry to bother you Trace." He started abashed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. I gestured for him to come in, with my right hand, as I now held the gun with only my left.

"It's okay." I sighed, closing the door and locking it. I flicked on the hall light to see him better. His eyes glanced towards the black pistol I was holding. I looked at it, and sighed. "Old habit." I muttered. He nodded, then looked at me. I was wearing a set of dark blue silk Pajama's. the shorts were comfortably lose, with black lace designing the bottom. The tank top had thin straps, and the same black lace decorating above my breasts. "Whats wrong?" I asked, looking up at him, ignoring the informal clothes I was wearing. It was four in the morning, and I couldn't focus on that.

"I umm..." He trailed off uncomfortably. "I couldn't sleep." He admitted, I looked at him tiredly, and nodded understandingly.

"You're having nightmares." I corrected, walking towards the kitchen. I heard him follow me. In the kitchen, I turned the light on, and went for the kettle.

"That obvious?" He asked, sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. I looked at him, with a stainless steel kettle in my hand.

"Yes." I answered simply, going to the sink to fill the kettle. "Want to talk about it?" I asked, the water running. He was quiet for a minute. By the time I had the kettle on, and was grabbing two cups, he finally started talking.

"I keep reliving that last day." He explained, looking down at his hands. I walked over to the breakfast bar and lazily leaned against it, across from him. "The conversation I had with Peggy, fighting the red skull for the last time." He explained further. "It's still so fresh in my mind, despite being so long ago." I nodded slowly. I could relate to that feeling, it's how I felt every time I was woken from a Cyro sleep. Because for me, what I'd experienced the time before, seemed like only a nights sleep away, when it had been years.

"What do you remember, about crashing the jet?" I asked softly, when he let the silence fill the room again. He glanced at me, his head still tilted down.

"All of it." He admitted. "Up until the jet hit the snow and ice. I had tried to get to the back of the jet, but had been knocked over by the force and passed out." He explained further. "Then I woke up in that fake hospital SHIELD created, what felt like minutes later." I looked down, feeling pity for him. I wanted to share my experience, tell him I knew what he was going through and that it did get better over time. But I couldn't. I wasn't allowed to. Instead I had to keep my mouth shut, and pretend like I could only imagine his confusion and pain.

"Do you regret it?" I asked. He looked at me, in thought. The silence grew thick between us as he tried to find his words. The kettle began to whistle. I walked over to it, taking it off of the stove, and poured the hot water into the two cups. Peppermint green tea steeped the water.

"No." He finally answered. I let out a small breath. "I just wished I had more time." He added. I nodded, grabbing both cups and carefully taking them over to the breakfast bar. I handed Steve one, and put mine on the counter, before grabbing sugar and cream.