A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky Barnes

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The truth of her realization from that night in the hotel hung around her. She was in so in love with him that she might not be able to stop.

Having a school-girl crush would have made everything so much easier.

But, as the sunny hours stretched past her, she did her best to use it as a distraction, trying to be caught in daydreams of him rather than memories of the Russian. The same memories that she'd worked so hard to manage over the last handful of months that seemed more daunting than ever. And along with her memories was her internal battle. 

She still didn't know why went after him, but it seemed like every time she thought about it, her feelings would flip-flop between relief that she didn't kill him and regret. He was there, asleep in that bed, ancient and weak, and she so easily she could have stopped his breathing.

The only thing she was grateful for throughout all of it was that he didn't wake up.

She didn't have to see his eyes or hear his voice—two things she was almost certain would have knocked her into a panic. Even thinking about that possibility made her insides coil up.

And every time she did, she couldn't help but wonder whether she really had control of herself... if all it would take was an order from him and she would go straight back to being the Prizrak.

Sure, the drugs were well out of her system, but she was still trained by them, still conditioned, there was no reason to think that she was completely free of their influence—or ever could be. And there was no way of knowing.

Those thoughts made her feel as if he was standing behind her. Watching. Evaluating. She waited for his order or his hands, practically suffocated by the dread of what was coming.

But nothing was coming, she would remind herself, he's not here.

She was home, in her space, away from Hydra.

But he still had control.

It was ridiculous, and she knew that, but he had control. He made her afraid.

The first night back, she sat on her bed and watched the door, not daring to even attempt sleep. Throughout the next day she was tired, but she managed.

She did the same the following night, but as the second day without rest came, she found herself struggling to keep her eyes open and her mind clear.

The only way she kept herself awake the third night was by standing against the wall.

Back straight, heels flush, eyes forward.

Once she put herself into the mindset of an agent, it was easy to keep herself from straying.

Failure wasn't acceptable.

She was thankful when she heard Bucky's door open early that morning, like it was permission to finally move. After changing and brushing her teeth, she wandered into the kitchen, reaching for the mug of coffee that Bucky was absently handing her, although it only took one look before he pulled it back and ushered her to the couch with heavy brows.

He didn't need to put much effort into getting her to explain what was going on, and even less to convince her to shut her eyes as he pulled her down to lay on the couch.

With him there, she no longer had the urge to fight off sleep, so she made herself comfortable against him and let her eyes shut, almost immediately drifting. Despite it feeling like she'd only just closed her eyes, hours later she was being woken up, Bucky's voice soothingly reassuring her that it was only a nightmare.