Word Count: 3084

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None :D

*******

The only sound in the air was the low hum of the Quinjet's engines. Bucky's head was tilted down, eyes trained on the floor. Steve stared at the clouds ahead, a permanent worry line etched into the skin between his brows.

Bucky could feel his chest caving in, his heart devolving from one full of love and life, to simply a sinkhole of emotion that left him feeling empty. He prayed to God that you had heard his final confession before the comm service had cut out. Hell, he was sure he didn't believe in a God anymore, but he still prayed. His life had been filled with trauma and suffering, the type that left a chill in your bones that you could never seem to warm up. He had known happiness in 1940, he knew what waking up with a smile felt like, but the memory of that lost feeling only seemed to make the cold seem that much colder. You never really know what you're losing until it's ripped from your grasp, do you? The warmth of happiness had been taken from him for so long that the sunshine that radiated from your smile felt like it was straight from the sun. Your fingertips would ignite his skin with flames whenever they danced along his skin, and when you had finally kissed him- good God, when you kissed him- he though he would combust in that moment, the pure heat of the moment being the flint against the steel of his heart.

He really hoped you had heard him finally say it. The danger he was running headfirst into was very clear in his mind, and if he was gone before ever being able to truly tell you how much you meant to him, he never knew if he would be able to rest peacefully. 

In his mind, he knew it was completely and utterly foolish to let himself grow so incredibly fond of you. He knew it would end badly, regardless of how long he had decided to ignore the fact. He was being pulled between the self-hatred and anger he felt for having dragged you into his awful mess of a life, and the ability to just let go of his reservations and truly allow himself to feel love and happiness. After all, you had told him over and over that all he deserved was everything and anything that made him happy, and that list would always start with you.

"What's gonna happen to your friends?" What's going to happen to her?

Steve paused for a moment, a heavy sigh leaving his lips before he answered.

"Whatever it is, I'll deal with it." Steve wasn't stupid, he knew that Bucky was only thinking of you. Of course, he would be concerned for the others, it was in his protective nature, but at the forefront of Bucky's mind was where you were.

Steve could feel the guilt of the whole situation settle on his heart. All of these people, his closest and oldest friends, floating away on the Raft Prison because of Steve's incessant need to help Bucky Barnes. He knew there was no way he would ever give up that need, and he would've fought this fight anyways, but he wished there weren't so many good people caught in the crossfire. 

Bucky's voice pulled Steve from his thoughts.

"I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve."

The breaking of Steve's heart was almost audible.

He wanted to turn around and grab Bucky by the shoulders, yell in his face, and make him believe everything that was being shouted. Steve wanted to look Bucky in the eyes and change his mind about himself. He wanted to reach into the mind that was put through blender of torture while in HYDRA's grasp and rip every painful memory away. He wanted to take Bucky back to the streets of Brooklyn and let him marvel at the beauty of a future they had once only dreamed about. You've always been worth it, he would say, you were all I had for most of my life. You were, and are, everything to me. God, if only he could say those words in a way that would convince Bucky of their truth.

He instead chose to reply calmly, to keep his screams within.

"What you did all those years," Steve began, "It wasn't you." It wasn't you, because I know you. "You didn't have a choice."

"I know." Bucky replied shortly, blue eyes meeting matching blue sky out the window of the Quinjet. "But I did it."

There was no convincing, Steve knew. The situation wouldn't allow it. So, he just looked ahead and kept quiet, the wrinkle of concern never leaving the small space between his brow.

***

Bucky sat alone in his apartment, two days after the night he had been in yours. There was a lingering warmth to where your cheek had met his, a constant reminder of the intoxicating effect you had on him.

The sunlight lazily draped through the glass of the window, landing fluidly on Bucky, illuminating the metal of his left arm and turning his eyes from a serene cobalt to an electric blue. He sat on his couch, feet curled under him and weight against the armrest of the sofa. His cheek rested against his palm, eyes focused on the small birds that flew amongst each other just outside his window. He didn't know what time it was, or how long he had sat there, but the music playing from the cheap laptop he had bought had started when the moon was high and full, and the sun was a distant memory. Now, the stars had retired for the day and sunlight was all that filled the sky. It amazed him how much music there was to hear, wether he remembered it or not. It all was equally just as lovely.

There was a boy

A very strange, enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far, very far

Over land and sea

His eyes fluttered shut, letting the music and lyrics reach into his chest and wrap around his heart, the beat syncing with the languid flow of strings and piano. A small, blissful smile pulled at his lips.

A little shy

And sad of eyes

But very wise, was he

Maybe he could see himself as wise. Maybe he could see himself helping others through similar traumas, but he would have to help himself through his own first.

And then one day

One magic day, he passed my way

Did you think that when you first met him? Did you regard that day as magical? He did.

And though we talked of many things

Fools and kings

This he said to me

You were the only one he told everything to. Anything that came to mind, he would say it without reservation. He felt no need to hide the darkness of his past, he never was scared of you running in fear. 

The greatest thing

You'll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved in return

And by God, weren't you an amazing teacher.

The greatest thing

You'll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved in return

***

You sat on the floor of the cell, head tilted back against the cold wall and knees pulled towards your chest. You had been like that for hours, silent tears leaving your eyes and the same words repeating in your mind.

"(Y/N)- have-... say- thank- love-... love- you."

Was it a confession of love? You wanted to say yes, to say that beyond a shadow of doubt that Bucky had said those words to you, but your mind wouldn't settle on that conclusion. Self-doubt and insecurity kept you from being content with the static filled sentence you had heard. It was an anxious battle between the logical side of your thoughts knowing that he couldn't have been saying anything else, and the fear driven side deciding that something that wonderful and passionate was never meant for you.

Your eyes closed, and all you could see was him. You saw his blue eyes, the type of blue that comfort you despite their icy color. You saw his soft smile, the smile that he only saved for you. You say his pointed nose and dark stubble and the small wrinkles by the corners of his eyes that would only make an appearance if his teeth showed during a smile. Everything you saw was him, he was purely Bucky, your Bucky. And God, you loved every single detail about him.

Your eyes snapped open as the entrance of the cell block creaked shut, none other than Tony Stark walking into the room. A slow clap echoed through the air.

"The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here!" Clint mocked. "He sees all! He know what's best for you, whether you like it or not."

Tony approached Clint's cell. "Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on."

Clint spit on the ground by his feet, all enthusiasm- false or not- gone from his voice as he replied, "Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, but not some... super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for-"

"Criminals?" Clint interrupted. He stood and walked towards the glass door of the cell. "Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda, or (Y/N). But here we are."

"Because you broke the law." Tony replied quickly and sharply. "I didn't make you."

Clint moved away from the door, humming over Tony's words, clearly mocking him.

"You read it, you broke it. You're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side?"

"You gotta watch your back with this guy," Clint announced as Tony walked away, Clint's hands making sharp contact with the door to the cell "there's a chance he's gonna break it."

Tony kept walking along the cell block, Scott's eyes following Tony as he crossed in front of his cell.

"Hank Pym always said you can never trust a Stark." Scott said lowly.

"Who are you?" Tony asked, not even hesitating in his steps.

"Come on, man."

Tony reached your cell, coming to a stop and tilting his head slightly as he looked at you.

"Hey, kiddo." He spoke softly. Your eyes stayed glued to the wall of your cell.

"Are they treating you well?" He continued. This time your head lazily turned towards him. Your eyes were almost vacant and your lips were pale, the only color on your face being the irritated red that clung to your eyelids.

"Take a guess." You said, voice coming out with a croak.

"(Y/N), you know if I could change this-"

"Would you?" You interrupted. "Would you go back and admit your faults?"

"This wasn't about me being right, and you know that."

"I know." You sighed, eyes closing. "I'm sorry, that was unfair."

He paused for a moment. "You're angry."

"I'm heart broken." You corrected, meeting his gaze again. His eyebrows turned up slightly in a look of sympathy, knowing that his own heart was holding on for dear life within his chest. Losing Pepper was hurting him far more than he ever thought it would.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, head hanging slightly.

"I know." And with that, you turned away and resumed staring at the wall. Tony took one last look at you before moving on to Sam's cell.

"How's Rhodes?" Sam asked, back towards Tony and arms crossed over his chest.

"They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow so, fingers crossed." Tony replied, leaning against the glass door of the cell. "What do you need? They feed you yet?"

"You're the good cop now?" Sam asked, turning to face Tony.

"I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went."

"Well, you better go get a bad cop," Sam's voice grew colder, "because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me."

Tony pressed on his watch a few times before clicking the side buttons. "Well, I just knocked the A out if their AV." He looked up at Sam. "We got about thirty seconds before they realize it's not their equipment. Just look." A small image of a dead man projected from Tony's watch. "That is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes."

At the mention of his name, your head snapped up, your body moving on its own towards the front of your cell. Your palms pressed against the glass, your breath fogging it slightly as your eyes trained on the picture by Tony's wrist.

"Clearly, I made a mistake," Tony continued, "Sam, I was wrong."

"That's a first."

"Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get." Tony reasoned, a small pleading to his words, "We don't know each other very well, you don't have to-"

"Hey, all right." Sam cut him short. "Look, I'll tell you. But you have to go alone, and as a friend."

"Easy."

"Siberia." You blurted out, not even thinking about stopping yourself before you spoke. Tony's head snapped towards you. "They're going to Siberia. There's other Winter Soldiers, Tony."

"We're sure Zemo is after them, and is going to use them to do whatever it is he wants." Sam added. "Siberia is where they're all in a deep freeze."

Tony nodded, taking in the information. He turned to leave quickly, heading straight for the door.

"Tony," you said softly, stopping his stride and meeting his eyes with your own, "please, don't let them hurt themselves."

He nodded again, a small, reassuring smile on his face before he left, the heavy, metal door clicking shut behind him. You slumped back against the wall behind you, sinking to the floor.

"Sam?" You said quietly.

"Yeah?" He replied.

"Did we do the right thing?" You asked, words hanging in the air. You heard a heavy sigh before his answer.

"I guess we'll have to wait and find out."

***

Bucky's fingertips tapped silently on the paper coffee cup that sat in front of him, eyes gazing at some far off point. You looked over his features, seeing his slight scowl and furrowed brow.

"Bit anxious today?" You questioned, his eyes meeting yours when you spoke.

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "I guess."

"Why is that?" You pressed, head tilting with curiosity.

His mouth ran dry. How was he supposed to answer that. There was absolutely no way he could tell you how he had fought himself staring at the way your hair caught the sun, or how your smile always brought a rosy hue to your cheeks, or how the stars looked brighter when he would see them in your eyes. All he knew was that your presence made his heart thump against his ribcage and all he could do is actively try to avoid looking at you, or else he would not be able to look away. There was no way, absolutely no way, that he could tell you why he was so anxious.

"Just one of those days." He settled on a vague answer, accompanied by him clearing his throat once more.

You nodded slightly, "I understand."

There was a beat of silence, Bucky's eyes looking towards the ceiling, his leg now bouncing on the floor.

"How do you deal with it now, the anxiety?" You asked softly. His gaze met yours, leg stilling as soon as he was looking at you.

"Uh," he scrambled for any answer, because 'seeing you' was in no way subtle, "I guess, um... I guess I just look outside... people watch?"

"That can clear your mind." Your gaze shifted to the window to your right. Bucky couldn't help but notice how the sun illuminated a halo around you, dipping into the slope of your nose and the curve of your shoulder. "It's almost like meditation."

He shook his head slightly, tearing is eyes from you and following your line of sight. Very few people crossed by the bakery, seeing as to how it was on the outskirts of the city, but there was enough to look at as a distraction from a racing mind. A sigh left his lips, his shoulders dropping as he let the tension in them dissipate.

"Him," you said, pointing at a suited man, walking with a messenger bag across his chest and a phone to his ear. "What's his story?"

"What do you mean?" Bucky pressed, eyes following the man.

"Make up a story, what's he doing?"

"Uh," Bucky tilted his head, "going to work?"

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, "You're bad at this game."

Bucky's heart skipped a beat at the sound of your laugh.

"Then you do it." He said, defensively.

"He's on lunch break," you began, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms over your chest, "he works at some stuffy office, but is a free spirit deep down. He's calling his mom, telling her all about his day and all of the gossip he heard at work. He probably dreams about cross-country adventures full of self discovery and chasing happiness."

Bucky blinked at you. "Where the hell did you get all of that?"

You laughed, fully this time. "Oh, Bucky. Sweet, sweet Bucky." You wiped a tear from your eyes, your giggles dying down. "It's all made up, I'm not trying to be Sherlock Holmes, here."

Bucky's lips curled in a silent 'oh', a blush crawling over his cheeks in embarrassment.

"Now you try it." You urged.

"Uh, okay." He looked out the window, scanning faces for the perfect person to make a story out of. His eyes landed on a woman and her child, walking hand-in-hand down the street, smiles on their faces. "Them." He pointed.

"What's their story?" You looked at him in amusement.

"She's a single mother, takes her son out a lot to compensate for it. He's happy, very happy. She probably works at some restaurant overnight, so she can come home in the morning and spend time with him. Everything she does, is for him. To make him happy. Look at her, he's laughing while looking ahead, and she smiles widest when she looks at him." His eyes flicker to you, his body receding into itself slightly when he notices you staring at him. "Unconditional love." He adds, avoiding your gaze.

"Have you ever felt that?" You questioned. It made him meet your eyes again.

"If I did," he sighed, "I don't remember."

You hummed in acknowledgment. "Well, there's a good side to that, I guess."

"What is that?"

Your lips pulled into a smile. "It's going to be that much better when you find it."

TO BE CONTINUED