Hell Bound

Twenty-Two

The couch was uncomfortable even without two people trying to sleep on it. Especially when one of those people was tall. But we managed to fall asleep without a problem. We slept most of the night without issue at all. Until morning, when Bucky woke with a start, and his first instinct was to push any threats away. I woke up when I was forcibly shoved off the couch and onto the floor.

"Shit," Bucky said, peering over the edge of the couch. I reached up to touch the knot on my head. "I'm so sorry."

"I've never heard you curse before," I noted. He reached his metal arm down to help me back up.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Banged my elbow on the coffee table, but I'm sure I'll live." He helped me back onto the couch and sat up to examine my elbow. I could already tell nothing was wrong with it. The sting had faded. But I let him check anyway. His hands felt nice on my skin. His concern was touching. "What happened?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Remember when you said you see things that you didn't think could be real? Or maybe you just don't want to believe they're real?"

"Yeah, I understand." He continued to run his fingers over my elbow even though it was now clear to both of us that nothing was wrong. "What do you see when it happens?"

"I see the people I've killed. Sometimes I see things I know can't be real. But there's always doubt. I've seen myself kill him a thousand times."

"Steve?" He nodded.

"This time, it was you."

"You saw yourself kill me?"

"I saw myself shoot you." He looked up, and I could see that he didn't remember. He had no idea. There was a look of total innocence on his face before he read my expression, and his eyebrows shot up. "It was real."

"I don't know what you saw." He moved his hand away from my elbow and into the collar of my shirt. He pulled it aside to expose the scars. His thumb graced the surgery line.

"I did this."

"You saved my life."

"How?"

"They told you to shoot me. Not to kill me. If you hadn't, they would have. And it gave me just enough time for Stark to get to me."

"I'm sure killing you was implied."

"I don't think it was. They want me alive, remember? I think it was a test for you. They knew you wouldn't. But it was a good enough distraction to keep them busy until Stark got there."

"I shouldn't have..."

"There was no other way."

"You believe that?"

"I remember it, Bucky. I believe it with absolute certainty." He took a deep breath and released my shirt.

"That wasn't the first time," he admitted. "I've seen myself choke you until you turn blue. I've seen myself hold your head under water while you scream. What happens if I lose control again, and it becomes–real? What if I make it real?"

"You won't."

"You don't know that for sure."

"I know you."

"Wanting to believe something isn't the same as knowing. I threw you into the coffee table because I had a bad dream. What if I'd thrown you across the room or snapped your neck?"

"I wouldn't let you." I knew I must sound pathetically naive, but I didn't believe he was capable of doing something like that on his own. I knew he lost control sometimes. But he'd never slipped back into the Winter Soldier. Because he wasn't the Winter Soldier. No matter how many times he claimed he was.

"You wouldn't have enough time to stop me," he said. "And they can still make me–do whatever they want. All they need to do is say the right words."

"I'm not ready to let you go, Buck," I snapped.

He paused and studied my face. The sky was growing lighter by the second. I was almost embarrassed by how those words spilled out of me before I could stop them. I didn't know what made me say it. I had no real claim over him, and he had none over me. We were almost strangers.

But I did care. And he knew it. I couldn't love him romantically, not the way my heart seemed to want to. But I could love him platonically. And I'd hang onto that love until I knew how to deal with the fact that I wanted to kiss him more than anything.

"Why?" he finally asked. I knew he'd ask, and I was angry with myself for not preparing an answer while he was still lost in thought.

"Because, I think–some people are worth holding onto."

"Even me? You know nothing about me."

"I know you better than you think I do."

"I ruined your life."

"Don't say that. I had nothing before I met you. I know that sounds pathetic, but it's true."

"And what do you have now?" I put my hands on his shoulders, but looked away. I hoped he couldn't read me if I wasn't looking back.

"Something I don't want to lose again," I admitted slowly.

"Would you fight for it?" And there it was, his point all along. I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped when I heard a door open upstairs. So I used that as my excuse to pull away and stand.

"I'll get coffee started."

I wasn't ready to answer that question. I knew he wasn't asking me to fight for him or whatever it was between us. He wanted to know if I'd use that as fuel to stay out of Hydra's hands. If I had something worth holding onto, would I be more willing to fight for my life? Would I be willing to hide behind my friends? Or would I go away so he could run and not be burdened by my vulnerabilities?

I wasn't sure I could do any of that.