Bucky landed the Quinjet in its designated landing site with ease, switching the engine off after doing so. They had finally landed in Bucharest, and Bucky was feeling extremely relieved because of it. Being away from Washington and being away from the country he had made nothing but an enormous mess in made him feel so much better. Of course, the guilt of it all would forever remain inside him, but a chance to start over and further transition into the good man he knew he used to be helped to ease that guilt.

A breath of relief escaped Bucky and he turned around in his seat to look at Connie, who was fast asleep on one of the Quinjet's rows of passenger seats. The two of them had traded spots almost two hours ago, and Connie had been fast asleep since then. She was exhausted, that much Bucky knew or could at least gather. He knew that when he was injured the way she was, which was very rare, it took all of his body's energy to heal him.

Bucky tilted his head curiously as he gazed at her; she looked so peaceful and so small. Her sleeping figure looked so familiar to him in a way that he couldn't explain. He knew he had seen her like this before, multiple times, actually, and he knew that the sight of her in such a calm and tranquil state was one of his favorites.

For the past week, since he had pulled her and Steve out of the Potomac, Bucky had been receiving so many flashes of old memories inside his head. Most of them, if not all of them, had everything to do with the two super-soldiers. Not only could he see the glimpses of the life he used to have with the two of them, but he could also feel the things and emotions he used to feel when he was with them as well. Over the past few days, all of those memories and emotions were slowly becoming more and more prominent inside him, and being around one of the main sources of those emotions and memories only made things better.

Rather than waking Connie up, Bucky walked over and carefully scooped her up from her seat so not to wake her or agitate her injuries. Luckily for him, the brunette did not wake up, and so he continued making his way towards the back of the jet. After exiting, he carried her all the way through the meadow and to the house sitting in a rather secluded neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. There was quite a bit of their belongings back on the jet, but Bucky figured he would grab them later rather than worrying about it now.

As Bucky took sight of what would be his and Connie's little safe-house for the time being, his mouth parted in shock. It was one of the nicest buildings he had seen in quite a while, aside from Connie's hotel room, of course, and knowing he would be spending most of his time here made him feel out of place. He was so used to being kept in a cage and sleeping on cold floors when he was out of cryo, and being in cryo wasn't really much different either; the only real difference was his state of consciousness.

Bucky let out a shaky breath and continued on towards the house, absentmindedly tightening his grip on Connie's small body as he did so. The moment he stepped inside the house—or penthouse rather—he was just as blown away, but his need to get Connie into her own bed convinced him that later would be the appropriate time to marvel at the house. He did wonder exactly why a safe-house needed to be so luxurious, but he figured this was quite normal for an organization such as S.H.I.E.L.D.

The lights in the house turned on automatically as he stepped further inside, lighting the way to the nearest bedroom. Bucky made his way up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway, stopping when he came to a large door at the end of the hall. He opened the door as best as he could with Connie in his arms and stepped inside, making his way over to the king-sized bed in the middle of the room and setting her down on the mattress.

He turned to head back outside to retrieve their belongings, but stopped when he heard Connie mutter his name. She was still asleep when he turned back around, though, which led him to believe that she was dreaming.

"Bucky," Connie spoke frantically. She seemed to be afraid of something, but Bucky wasn't sure what that something was, and it worried him slightly.

"Connie," he said in an attempt to wake her, though his efforts were futile.

Connie turned over in bed, squeezing her pillow in her arms. "No, please!"

Bucky sat down on the bed and began shaking Connie awake. He wasn't sure what she was dreaming about, but he knew it wasn't anything good, and he didn't like knowing that whatever it was provoked such a fear inside her.

"Wake up, please," Bucky nearly pleaded as he continued shaking her.

In seconds, Connie shot out of bed, startling Bucky slightly. She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair before her eyes finally fell on Bucky, and without so much as thinking about how he would react, she threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him as tightly as she could manage without hurting him. Not only did her nightmare influence her actions, but the mere fact that she hadn't hugged him or truly felt what it was like to be in his arms in seventy years also helped.

"Oh my gosh," Connie breathed out in relief as she continued hugging him.

Bucky was slightly taken back by her actions, as well as unsure of how he should react to the situation. Connie was hugging him, which was a gesture he hadn't known in years. Affection was something so strange to him—so foreign. All he had known for the last several decades was pain and abuse; everything he had been subject to was anything but affectionate.

After several seconds, Bucky then decided to wrap his arms around Connie, though he was much more careful than she was. He was terribly afraid to harm her, especially considering he could do so with such ease.

Holding Connie was strange, though. Bucky could feel a familiar feeling welling up inside him at the exchange that only made him squeeze her tighter in his arms, though it was not to the point of harming her. He couldn't describe the feeling at all; all he knew was that it was a feeling he had been thinking about and longing for since the moment he emerged from the river. For the first time in what he assumed to be seventy years, Bucky felt at home; he felt a sense of comfort and a sense of belonging that was all but foreign to him, and he welcomed it.

"I'm sorry," Connie sniffed as she pulled away from him, moving to sit back down on the mattress.

Bucky watched her wipe away a tear and he frowned. "Why are you sorry?"

"For hugging you," she answered as the tears continued streaming down her face. She was feeling very mixed emotions at the moment. Her nightmare had terrified her into thinking Bucky had been taken away from her again, yet seeing him upon waking up made her feel an abundant amount of relief, as well as a feeling of happiness just knowing that he was still there with her.

"Don't apologize," Bucky told her. "I'm honestly really glad you did."

Connie looked up at him with furrowed brows. "Huh? Why?"

"Because it helped me," Bucky answered simply, not wanting to get into detail over the emotions he was feeling toward her at the moment. "What was your dream about, Connie?"

"It wasn't a dream," Connie forced out.

"Okay, what was your nightmare about?"

"You," Connie squeaked as she recalled what happened in her nightmare. "You were taken away from me again."

"It's okay, Connie. It was just a dream," Bucky tried to reassure her.

Connie shook her head quickly and wiped her face. "You don't understand. The last time I had a dream like that was the time after you and Steve left for the army; I would have them very periodically. They were all the same and they were all so vivid, but I never really paid much attention to them. Then Steve showed up at the apartment and told me you were gone, and then I realized just how much attention I should have given them. Now you're back and I'm getting them again—dreams that are exactly the same as the ones I used to have. It can't be a coincidence."

Bucky shrugged and scooted closer to her. "Maybe it is? Maybe it's just your mind's way of making sense of everything."

"My mind sure does love to torture me, I'll give it that."

"They're just dreams," Bucky told her. "I get them, too."

"I know," Connie sniffed. "I heard you pleading with someone in Russian last night at the hotel, and I was about to wake you up until you woke yourself up."

Bucky pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry."

"Don't," Connie chastised him. "I'm getting tired of you apologizing for things that are out of your control."

"You know I can't help it," Bucky said quietly. "I just feel as if I have so much to be sorry about."

Connie sighed, "But you don't."

"But I—"

"Don't," Connie cut him off. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It's gonna take time for you to accept that, but it's true—you have nothing to be sorry about."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mumbled as he got off the bed.

Connie then looked down at the mattress, and her brows fell in confusion. She didn't remember falling asleep on a king-sized mattress, but rather a very uncomfortable set of Quinjet seats. "Wait, are we in Bucharest?" she asked Bucky.

Bucky nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Did you carry me up here?"

Bucky nodded again.

"Why didn't you just wake me up, Bucky?" she asked with narrowed eyes. She didn't really care about why he didn't wake her up. Her question was more-so along the lines of a test question; she just wanted to see what his answer to it would be, and she hoped to Thor it was the answer she was looking for.

Bucky shrugged, "You just looked so small and content. I didn't really have the heart to wake you up."

Connie sucked in a breath at the sound of his words, and a small smile pulled at the corner of her lips. He had given her the answer she wanted.

"What?" Bucky said slowly as he took notice of the expression on her face.

"You used to say that to me," Connie answered Bucky quietly as she looked down at her hands in her lap. "Whenever I would fall asleep on the couch or somewhere in the apartment that wasn't our bed, you would always carry me to our room. When I woke up in such a confused state as to how I got where I was, I would ask you if you carried me, and I would ask you why you didn't just wake me up. Your answer was always the same, too; you would say that you didn't have the heart to wake me because I looked so content and so small."

Bucky was shocked with her words, but happy, nonetheless. He was remembering more and more regardless of whether or not he knew. "Wow."

Connie chuckled softly and looked up at him, her glistening brown eyes meeting his bright blue ones. "I'll never understand why you always made it a point to say I was small, but. . ."

"You are small," Bucky chuckled. "At least compared to me you are."

"Well, y'know."

"I'm gonna go and get our things, okay?" Bucky told her as he started towards the bedroom door.

Connie nodded, though as he neared the door she called out to him again, prompting him to turn back around. He looked at her as if to ask her what it was she needed, but she didn't offer a verbal response. Instead, she got off of the bed and rushed over to him, once again wrapping her small arms around his body, much to his surprise.

"I don't care how blunt I've been about our past together these last couple of days," Connie muttered into his shirt. "You want to remember your old life and the man you used to be, and I want you to remember as well—that's why I've said what I've said—but what I want to remember is the way it felt to be in your arms."

"Yeah?" Bucky let out a breath and hugged her back, resting his chin on top of her head. He wouldn't never be able to describe exactly how he felt in that moment, but he didn't think he had ever felt so good. "And how does it feel?"

"Let's just say I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else."