The room was dark; the only light was that of the full moon illuminating brightly through the windows. Bucky sighed quietly and pushed himself off of the king-sized bed, careful not to wake Connie as he did so.

For the past three days, since the kiss, the two of them had been sharing a bed with one another. It had been Connie's idea at first, as she had claimed she missed sharing a bed and a room with him. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, of course, but Bucky happily agreed to do it. He knew he missed the feeling of holding her in his arms at night, yet his reasons stretched far beyond just that. He wondered if she could help take away his nightmares the way she had taken away everything else, but it appeared as if there would always be something inside Bucky that served as a reminder of what had happened to him. He wondered if it was the same for Connie as well.

Bucky made his way downstairs and into the large kitchen, switching the light on as he did. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sat down at the island, bringing the cold plastic to his lips. He became lost in thought as he recalled the events of his nightmare—the nightmare that had removed him from his slumber. He could remember everything so perfectly and he hated it. He hated even more that Connie had been at the very center of the nightmare for reasons that were anything but good.

Bucky was in his lonely cell as he normally was while out of cryostasis. He wasn't sure what they had planned for him, but he was terrified to find out. Whatever Hydra did to him only ever inflicted pain, and it was a pain he found he could not handle no matter how many years he spent with the horrible organization.

Several moments of silence had passed before one of the Hydra workers appeared behind the metal bars of Bucky's containment room. The man smirked deviously down at the soldier and unlocked the cage, pulling the barred door open and heading into the small room to retrieve the soldier.

"Poluchite ad vverkh (Get the hell up)," the man commanded in Russian. He delivered a swift kick to the soldier's side, earning an angered look from him. The man only laughed at the expression and kicked him towards the containment room entrance. He knew Bucky wouldn't make a move to harm him or he would be punished, and punishment was something the soldier hated and feared more than anything.

Bucky pulled himself up from the ground, and the moment he did, the man grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him towards the facility armory.

"U nas yest' chto-to osobennoye zhdet vas v aptechke, soldat (We've got something special waiting for you in the armory, soldier)," the man informed him with a grin on his face. "Spetsial'nyy kto-to reshil zaplatit' vam vizit (A special someone has decided to pay you a visit)."

Bucky wanted to ask who this someone was, but he knew better than to even react.

Sooner or later, the man had pulled Bucky into the armory, where more Hydra workers than usual were gathered around. Normally during one of his training sessions, there would be only three to five trainers and Hydra workers present, but now there were close to twenty, and the reason behind it all became clear when Bucky fixed his gaze on the woman in the middle of the room.

Connie sat in the middle of the room; she sat in a metal chair where her arms and legs were bound by metallic braces she could not break out of, no matter how desperately she tried. Sweat covered the entirety of her body, and her clothes were dirty and ripped, which showed signs of a struggle. Her brown hair was a greasy mess tousled on top of her head, her brown eyes were wide with fear and filled with tears, and she was gagged with a cloth of some sort, preventing her from calling out for help.

In a single instant, Bucky's mind had been stripped of the Winter Soldier. He had transitioned back into the man he used to be before being captured and it was because of her. He feared for what was about to happen, and he feared for what they planned on making him do.

"Connie," Bucky spoke breathlessly as he looked into her brown eyes.

The man that had brought Bucky to the armory in the first place shoved him towards the center of the room, eliciting a low cry from the brunette strapped to the metal chair. She knew better than anyone what they were going to make him do, and it broke her heart. She had always welcomed the thought of her death, but she never anticipated her death being carried out by the very man she would die for.

"Miss Dzhons zdes' bylo obnaruzheno narusheniye v posledneye vremya (Miss Jones here has been misbehaving lately)," the man chuckled and removed his pistol from its holster on his hip. "Tak chto oni poslali yeye syuda dlya nas, chtoby zabotit'sya o (So, they sent her here for us to take care of)."

"My prosto dumali, chto eto budet boleye uvlekatel'nym dlya vas, chtoby sdelat' pochesti dlya nas (We just thought it would be more fun for you to do the honors for us)," another man laughed deviously.

Bucky's handler shoved the firearm into his hand and ordered him to shoot Connie, something of which Bucky was very adamant about doing.

"Net (No)," Bucky protested, fear seeping through his tone. The mere thought of being responsible for Connie's death made him feel nauseous; he would shoot himself long before he ever hurt her. "Ne zastavlyay menya delat' eto yey (Don't make me do this to her)."

Bucky's handler sighed and rolled his eyes. "Vy budete vypolnyat', soldat (You will comply, soldier)."

The words seemed to spark something inside Bucky and he looked at Connie, raising the pistol out in front of him and further frightening the small brunette in the chair. As he moved to pull the trigger, something inside him urged him to stop, and so he did, but he didn't lower his weapon.

Do not shoot her.

Shoot her.

She is too important to you, Bucky.

She is nothing.

Fight for her.

Do as you're told, soldier.

You don't want to harm her; you love her.

You feel nothing for her; shoot her.

Don't do this to her.

Do whatever you have to do.

Bucky's face visibly contorted as the voices inside his head continued their reign of terror. For the first time in a long time, however, the soldier had lost against his better self, and Bucky was thankful for it.

"Net (No)," Bucky said to his handler as he lowered his gun and looked away from Connie. "YA ne budu vredit' yey (I will not harm her)."

Connie seemed terribly relieved because of this, but her relief was short lived.

Bucky's handler let out an annoyed sigh and ripped the gun from his hands before aiming it at him, wasting not a single second in pulling the trigger. A cry of anguish escaped Connie as she watched Bucky fall to the floor in a pool of his own blood, and she struggled as hard as she could in her seat in an attempt to break free, but efforts were futile. All she could do was watch with tear-filled eyes as the love of her life grasped onto life on the cold floor.

"Ugadayte, ya sdelayu eto sam (Guess I'll do it myself)," Bucky's handler grumbled before turning the gun on Connie.

Connie looked away from Bucky and to the handler, the tears flowing faster and faster down her face. Truthfully, she didn't care if they killed her. If Bucky was gone, there was no reason on earth for her to remain.

"Lyubyye posledniye slova, soldat (Any last words, soldier)?" the handler asked her.

Another man stepped forward and ripped the cloth from Connie's mouth, causing a breath to escape her.

"Ubey menya (Kill me)," Connie instructed him. "Tam net zhizni dlya menya bez nego, tak chto prosto ubit' menya, pozhaluysta (There is no life for me without him, so just kill me, please)."

The handler smirked and placed his finger on the trigger. "Kak vy khotite, moy dorogoy (As you wish, my dear)."

He pulled the trigger without hesitation, and as Bucky watched her body fall limp through blurry vision, he was pulled from the horrible confines of his head.

A sigh escaped Bucky's lips as he finally finished the bottle of water. He got up from his seat and moved to throw the plastic container away before heading back up the stairs. Bucky wasn't sure how long he'd spent in the kitchen, but the sun was now beginning to rise. It was early still, so Connie wouldn't be up until later, but Bucky couldn't bring himself to fall back to sleep. He feared that if he did he would be forced to watch Connie die again at the hands of the ones who had abused and mutilated him for so many years.

Over the course of the last few days, Bucky had finally come to terms with the feelings that had subconsciously appeared inside him. What he felt for her was so strong and so specific that even Bucky couldn't dismiss it as what he knew to be love, so the thought of losing her pained him so much more than it had originally done so. He felt a certain protectiveness over her that he believed he hadn't felt in years. Bucky knew Connie was more than capable of protecting her own self, but he couldn't seem to help himself now when it came to her. It was almost an instinct of sorts, an instinct that he was sure stemmed from their previous life together.

Bucky quietly made his way into the large bedroom. Connie was still sound asleep in bed with her body sprawled across the mattress. This was something that amused Bucky—it reminded him of the old days—and he smiled fondly and moved to sit down beside her small body on the mattress, careful not to wake her in the process.

He was so accustomed to having her around that he couldn't imagine not having her around anymore. Connie made waking up in the morning worth it for Bucky; she made living life worth it for Bucky. As he had revealed to her just days ago, he often wondered what their lives could have been like had none of this happened to them. He wondered what could've become of his relationship with her—the relationship he wanted desperately to rebuild. It would be awhile before the two were at their peak, but at the moment the journey was more than enough for Bucky.

As Bucky sat, Connie let out a sigh in her sleep and turned over. Her face contorted slightly as her knee struck Bucky's side, and her eyes fluttered open, a tired smile pulling onto her face as she took notice of him in front of her.

"Hi," Connie greeted with a groggy tone.

"Hi, Connie," Bucky chuckled lightly.

Connie breathed out in content and closed her eyes again. "What are you doin' up this early?"

"Nightmare," Bucky answered simply.

Connie frowned and opened her eyes back up to look at him. "Another one? Are you okay?"

Bucky nodded. "I'm okay now, especially knowing that you're alright."

"What do you mean?" Connie sat up in bed and ran a hand through her hair.

"It's nothing."

Connie grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You know you can talk to me, right? I'm always gonna be here for you, Bucky."

"I know," Bucky said quietly. "But I can't talk to you about this; it'll only upset me."

"Okay." Connie nodded in understanding and rested her head on the cold metal of his shoulder, "I've missed you, y'know?"

Bucky raised a brow and looked down at her. "But I've been here the whole time, Connie."

"I'm talking about before," Connie told him.

"Oh."

"The past few years have been so rough for me," Connie began. "All I ever thought about was you, Bucky."

"I'm sorry," Bucky sighed.

"What are you sorry for?"

"Leaving you all those years ago," Bucky answered her. "Putting you through that pain and leaving you to deal with it alone."

Connie shook her head. "You didn't have a choice in leaving me; you had a country to fight for."

"The real reason I fought was so I could get back home to you—to Steve," he admitted as the old memories flashed inside his mind. "I think leaving you two was the hardest thing I've ever had to do back then. I never expected that things would turn out the way they did, and a part of me is still devastated because of it, but the other part of me knows I'm now where I belong, and that's with you. You give my complicated life a purpose, Connie."

"And you give mine a purpose, too," Connie told him. "You always have, James Barnes."

Bucky smiled at her and dipped down to plant a gentle kiss onto her lips.

"Think you could come back to bed now?" Connie asked once he had pulled away.

"I don't know if I'll be able to get back to sleep, Con," Bucky said to her.

Connie hummed and fell back onto the mattress, pulling the comforter over her as she did so. "I guess I'll just have to cuddle with my pillows and my blankets then, it's no big deal."

Bucky cocked his head to the side as several memories of a younger and seemingly happier Connie flowed gracefully throughout his mind. He let out a soft chuckle and shook his head at her. "You've pulled this before, I remember," he said.

"And each time it worked like a charm," Connie muttered from beneath the comforter.

"Not this time, sweetheart," Bucky teased.

Connie let out a huff and poked her head out to look at him with a pout on her face. "Are you really gonna treat me like that? Didn't you just say I gave your life purpose? How can you tell me something like that and then so easily deny me cuddles?"

Connie was channeling her old personality and Bucky could sense that.

"You're an incurable brat," Bucky breathed out as he moved to lay down beside her in bed, holding his arms out for her.

Connie smiled in content and moved toward him, wrapping her small arms around his torso and closing her eyes. It was little things such as this that she missed so dearly and was so thankful to have back again.

"I just want you to know that I'm so thankful for you, Bucky," Connie told him as she began to fall back asleep. "Thank you for taking a chance that day and trusting me."

"Thank you for taking a chance that day and finding me," Bucky replied.

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, sending a fluttering sensation into the brunette's stomach. A fond smile lit up Connie's face and she held him tighter. Before long she was falling back to sleep in the arms of the man she loved so dangerously.