Argent ♝ Bucky Barnes

05

xvi. Heart Out → The 1975
"Cause I remember that I like you
No matter what I found
She said, 'It's nice to have your friends round
We're watching the television with no sound.'"

***

She can't breathe.

Ice water surrounded her, climbing in her throat and filling her lungs. Her eyes fly open, bulging out of her head as she tries in vain to take a breath. She tries to struggle, to fight but her body is so numb.

Nothing could ever feel warm again.

Haunted blue eyes meet hers through the murky water and she struggles less, recognizing those eyes.

Isaac.

But he wouldn't let her go, let her breathe.

Baby blue eyes turned into darker stormy-gray eyes, the hand holding her down turns to metal.

James smirks down at her darkly and she tries to scream his name through the water. He lets her go and she claws her way up to the surface where she takes deep, heaving breathes. The name on her lips turns into a scream of horror as a garrote wraps around his neck from behind.

"Come on, Allison, we can kill this one together, just like old times, right?" Kate asks, with a vicious smirk on her face. "Or maybe, you can fuck him first."

Kate licks a strip up his neck and Allison wants to scream, run, anything but she's frozen.

A cool, heavy weight settles in her palm - a gun. The same gun that Kate almost shot Scott with.

Against her will, she levels it with James' forehead. She screams in her head but her body wouldn't respond.

Not-Allison smiles. It was a dark, vicious smile that wasn't her. It felt like Kate. It looked twisted and ugly on her face.

James' blue eyes plead with her, beg her not to kill him, but Not-Allison acted like she couldn't understand him.

Her free hand makes a finger gun and she raises it to her own head, mockingly pulling the trigger. Kate stares at her with a proud smirk.

Allison's fighting broke through and she's back in her body.

Just in time to pull the trigger.

A gasp flew past her lips as she violently sat up in bed. Tears moisten her cheeks and she rubs her hands down her face, releasing a muffled scream. Thankfully, nobody was there to see her cry.

"You appear to be in distress, Miss Argent. Shall I inform anyone of this matter?" A British voice echoes around her.

Her head spins and she chokes on a breath in her haste to speak. "No, Jarvis, I'm alright," she rasps. Her body is shaking in cold sweats but her skin is warm, even as she feels cold. The covers are kicked off in her haste and she hangs her head between her knees to force the dizziness to subside.

"Are you sure, Miss?" JARVIS asks again, almost hesitantly.

"Yes, thank you," she replies, unconvincingly. There's an ache in her throat and an emptiness in her chest. The darkness thrives on dreams as violent as this one.

A tired sigh escapes her lips and she decides that a drink is in order. She debates if it's appropriate to go out in pink sleep shorts and a tight t-shirt, but decides she doesn't really care.

No one's bound to be up anyways, it's almost completely pitch black.

Sliding on a pair of fluffy pink socks that were a gift from Lydia, she mentally prepares herself for the coldness that the kitchen will bring. The temperature in her room is warm, borderline hot, to chase away the chill that's in her bones.

The chill appeared when she died the first time but never really left since then. Now, it's even worse, leeching the stability away from her.

Leaving the warmth of her room, she walks to the elevator swiftly. The elevator isn't as warm as her room but it's not cold, thankfully.

The kitchen is, though. The familiar chill deepens in her and she rubs her hands on her arms for warmth. She opens a cabinet to find cups and she reaches for a plastic one with a sparkly unicorn on the side. She wants to be surprised but with Tony Stark, she'd be more surprised if everything was normal.

As the water fills the cup, she briefly wonders where James was but she doesn't want to wake him if he's sleeping.

Padding softly on the floor, she sees the silhouette of James sitting on a black leather couch facing a large window overlooking all of New York. With his back to her, she quietly wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him. He tenses and almost jerks, before relaxing against her and bringing a hand up to her arm, squeezing slightly.

James whips around, fast as a cobra, and picks her up by the waist, settling her next to him, half on his lap. By some miracle, her water doesn't spill and she sips it quietly while watching the busy lights of New York. She shifts so her head so it doesn't lean against him but he stops and runs his fingers through her tangled hair.

After minutes of peaceful silence, James quietly asks, "Why are you up, sweetheart?"

"Nightmare," she replies shortly. "I don't want to discuss it."

A rumbling hum follows her declaration and they descend into silence.

"James?"

Fingertips trail up and down her bare arm making her shiver. But not front he chill. "Yeah, doll?" He rumbles.

"Why does everyone call you Bucky and not James like I do?" she asks hesitantly, pulling back to look at him.

James stiffens."Why? Did someone say something?" he counters defensively. And loudly, too loudly. Compared to the silence of the room, it sounds like he's yelling.

She immediately shakes her head vehemently, panic creeping up inside her at his upset. "No! No! I was just curious, never mind, forgot I asked," she says quickly and looks at her hands holding the cup.
The nightmare had taken a toll on her and she came to James for solace but all she did was upset him.

At his silence, a flush creeps up her neck and she throws herself off his lap. The water cup, thankfully empty at this point, is flung onto the floor in her haste and the sparkles of the unicorn's eyes wink at her mockingly.

James catches her arm as she turns to leave and tilts her chin down so her brown eyes could meet his blue ones. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart," he says softly. "The only person who really calls me Bucky is Steve, the rest just call me Barnes. And I like it when you call me James."

Allison doesn't say anything, just stands stiffly. Gently, he pulls her down next to him on the couch but her body refuses to relax. "Allison," he starts, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh."

She nods, silently accepting his apology and places her hand softly on his. "Can you feel me?" She questions curiously, thumb stroking the cool metal fingers.

James gave a half-smile and squeezes her hand. "Not like I want to," he whispers.

Allison's breathing stops and she stares into his eyes. He holds her stare until she breaks eye contact and looks down with a pink blush. But the question that's been running through her thoughts ever since she saw the news reports finally manifests itself in the absolute worst way possible.

"So, when were you going to tell me you're the Winter Soldier?"