THERES 21 PARTS NOW WHATTT guys I'm gonna add chapters to my other stories sometime so be sure to check them out. 
Dont forget to vote, comment, share!                        -Emily.

https://youtu.be/C8flloGTb4c

   Natasha looked with tired eyes at the only empty bed in the dormitory, the one that used to hold her sister. The blanket strewn over Yelena's unmade bed was all crinkled. 

   Restlessness spiked through her body like serotonin, heightening her awareness of the fact that the Winter Soldier wouldn't be alseep. Them two were the only ones awake in the Red Room facility. 

   She let out a puff of breath like Yelena would've done and twisted in her bed. She remembered the first time Yelena watched her do this many nights before, as James stood by her bed like a hovering, dark ghost. 

   One of the girls near her shifted fitfully in her sleep, mumbling in Russion as she did. "[Don't hurt me, Soldier, no! There is... there is no... man. I don't want to die... alone...]"

   Natasha froze at the sheer desperateness in Alina's voice. When you are asleep, you are most vulnerable. In both body and mind.  

   Certain people, like Alina, revealed themselves and their obscure thought while alseep. It piqued Nat's interest. 

   For a couple years, a while back, Yelena was the same way in her sleep. She'd toss and turn and moan and complain at some invisible phantom that haunted her mind. 

   She remembered climbing into bed with her and holding her until she stopped, and then asking her what she dreamed of. '[You. I dreamed of you, Natalia. Y-You shot me between the eyes,]' In that horrifying moment, Nat held her tightly until she fell back asleep. Yelena had been scared that the Red Room would eliminate her using Natasha.

   And here she was, wondering if Yelena had been eliminated. Wetness stained her cheeks, and she took a shuddering breath and swiped them away.

   Yelena's dream was centered around being at the end of Natasha's gun barrel, the one recieving bullets. The Red Room had that much of a grip and it managed to strike her heart with potent fear. 

   How wrong they all were. Even if her sister was dead, she'd still love her. She'd never hurt her, never.

   Missing Yelena now more than ever, she slipped out of the large, dark room and entered the hallway. She stopped by the corner, listening for noise. When she was sure the coast as clear, Nat continued along the hall to the Winter Soldier's cell. 

   She knew James wasn't doing well mentally,  she could tell with just one look at him. 

   Reaching the steel reinforced door with the sliding rectangular peephole, she stood on her toes, used to the pain that spread along her big toes and slid the metal plate to the side. The scant room was bathed in darkness. James hadn't bothered to switch the the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling on, so the shadows made his wide-open eyes seem like black pits.

   He was leaned heavily on the wall, legs sprawled in front of him loosely, but not comfortably. James' arms hung beside him, hands fisted. His brow was all creased... she slid the panel back into place with a low scrape that she hoped snapped him out of it, then slipped a pin from her hair.

   The door was designed to keep James in, but wasn't designed to keep people out as much, so using the past guidance he gave her, picking this lock was a breeze.

   She pressed careful fingers against the door, pushing it open slowly and wincing at the slight metallic scrape that she heard from the floor. Natasha reached up and switched the light bulb on, flooding the room with a dim, crusty light.

   He sat against the wall, framed by dark brown streaks that ran down the wall and got darker near the drain in the middle of the room. 

   His blood. Chills tingled down her spine. What the hell happened in here? Nausea built up in throat.

   James ' eyes slowly flicked over to her, weighted down by a thick sadness, then back to the wall he'd been boring holes into with his dark glare. "Hi," he whispered in a barely audible tone that implied deeper meanings behind the word. As if there was so much he wanted to say to her.

   Tilting her head to the side, a subconscious signal that indicated vulnerability, she managed a quick smile. Hopefully it helped him feel like he could talk to her. 

   "Um. Hi," She sunk down to his level, sitting cautiously on the floor. The room smelt of sticky, dried blood and iron. 

   His body language implied that he was depressed, trying to rest from his pain-filled life He almost seemed... childlike, from the look in his eyes. It made sense, considering that Hydra removed his memories so that he depended on his handlers to know who he was, what his purpose was.

   She took a deep breath, deeply moved to make him feel like he wasn't alone. This wasn't the right place for anyone but the wicked, and he didn't belong here. It was breaking him.

   She wanted to jolt him back to the present, to grab his shoulders, to know desperately what happened to Yelena, but she saw him crumble into pieces under her gaze.

   "James." She leaned closer to him, staring into his dark eyes. "Tell me something, please. Anything. How do you feel?"

   One dry chuckle escaped from his lips. "How I look, multipied by ten."

   That was disturbingly specific. His eyes stopped drifting and he regarded her for a second too long. She shifted uncomfortably.

   "What? What is it?"

   "The floor might stain your clothes," he told her flatly. "The installed a drain for a reason, but it doesn't do the best job."

   She nodded. "I know. I have a change of clothes, and these are black, anyway." 

   "Be careful to wash them soon, or they might stink," he muttered softly.

   "I will," she promised. "So what happened with Yelena? Why'd they torture you like this, James?" Her voice pitched upward slightly, until she was almost yelling at him, blood drumming in her ears loudly. 

   His limbs moved and he lept to his feet, taking her by surprise. She tipped back, eyes wide as he towered over her.

   James gulped as if there was a lump in his throat and touched her shoulder gently, calming her fears. "Bucky," she heard him almost whisper.

   "B-Bucky?" Wasn't that the nickname from his old life? He hadn't liked it when she called him that way back when, so she had avoided it for the longest time.

   "Yeah." His voice broke. "Call me that. Please."

   "Oh... Alright, Bucky."

   "I was planning her escape for months." He said, still standing. James- No, Bucky, started to pace the room, glancing back at her occasionally. 

   Nat's eyes widened again in shock. "Months? Escape? That's what happened to her? So... she's okay? And... they found out you helped her and punished you, didn't they?"

   He blinked, as if his mind was hazy and his sight blurry. "I don't know if she's okay."

   "What do you mean? Bucky?"

   "I made sure she was ready, then sent her free. She would've been killed, or worse, if she stayed here. I could tell that they weren't planning on keeping her for the longterm."

   "Why didn't you tell me?" Natasha asked, tears welling up in her eyes. Why would he keep this a secret from her? "How do you know they would've killed her?"

   He sighed and sat back down on the bare ground, eyes meeting hers. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his lips parted to silently mouth something she couldn't understand, as if he was talking to himself.

   The expression on the man's face grew more painful with every passing second. 

   Nat felt her heart grow maddeningly heavy until she could no longer stand it, so she leaned forward and touched his arm. He flinched at the touch and took in a sharp breath. 

   "We'll be okay, Bucky."

   He nodded slowly, eyes betraying his vulnerability for the first time in a while and brimming with bitter tears. She came even closer, shoving down the usual internal alarm to not embrace people like this, and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort himself more than her.

   She considered asking him where he sent her, but the words died in her throat as he lowered his head with a tight sob. "They were punishing you this whole time, weren't they?"

   "Two days, then they stopped... but it got- It got worse after that, and last night-" He broke off, gasping for air.  Nat touched his hand, and he seemed like his was at war with himself, trying not to pull away from the touch.

   "You'll be fine, you'll be fine," Natasha didn't know and wasn't sure what the truth was anymore, she just needed to make him feel better somehow. She needed to fix this. "You're not alone-"

   Bucky hugged her even tighter, and she tapped his rib cage. His arms loosened, and Nat relaxed, letting him hold her.

  Her fingers brushed his warm skin. Bucky shifted as if he was uncomfortable, reacting to the touch. Yelena saw his face blacken and crease in a stressed way.

   His cybernetic arm shifted and covered his chest defensively.

   "Oh, shoot." She muttered, placing a gentle hand on his bare arm. What do I do? What have I done? He must have bad memories associated with touch, It was obvious. A mournful sensation grew in her heart at how much abuse he went through.

   Yelena lost all sense in search of something to fix this, until suddenly time stopped and she felt his lips on hers. She pulled away and scrambled back, eyes wide. Bucky's breath was still uneven now, but the dent on his forehead dissappeared. Yelena gulped, leaning back.

   Deciding she should go to bed and not disturb him and more, Yelena got to her feet with a soft grunt and stood staring at him. Man, was he hot. 

   She let herself smile as a warmth flooded her senses. For the longest time, she didn't let herself feel this kind of emotion. This love that formed attachment, it was dangerous, because what if the person you connected to hurts you? What if they stop loving you? 

   When it doesn't work out, for whatever reason, it hurts so much. 

   Yelena didn't want to be broken like that. She didn't want to be alone, and she was scared. The chance of Bucky pulling back at the last minute was undoubtedly high, and the fact that he cared so much made it worse, becuase if it happened, she wouldn't be able to hate him. He only wanted what was best for her.

   And how could someone hate the person they owed their life to? 

   Watching him sleep now, she felt like a stranger in his life again, even though she knew him so well. Even though he showed her Ben's closet. Even though he tried to be there for her as much as he could. Even though he risked his own sanity to set her free. 

   Why did she feel so insecure about her place here?

   "Okay. Go to sleep, Yelena." She told herself, trying to avoid the thoughts running around in her head. But when she got to her bedroom door, she found herself not wanting to go inside, and leaned on the door. She didn't want to be alone right now.

   She faintly heard her thoughts whisper, 'This is a bad idea, a mistake,' but she spun on her heels and lowered herself down beside Bucky. Sweet silence enveloped the house and filled the space between them. And, hey, if he had any nightmares, she could wake him.

   Yelena touched Apline's fur, but the cat shifted away from her, burrowing deeper into Bucky's chest. "Fair enough," she muttered, fighting an odd spike of jealousy.

   The earlier instability she felt moments before crumbled like dry sand through fingers.

   Sleepiness overcame her tired eyes, and as she closed them, the last thing she saw was Bucky's lips tilt into a dreamy smile. As if he had not a care in the world. 

   She smiled, too, calmed by his presence, a thing from her childhood that would never change.

   Early morning light streamed through the curtains, stirring Bucky out of his light sleep. He took a deep breath and felt a warm body next to his, and an arm around his waist. Shock and fear raced through his body and he gave a slight jump, trying to process the fact that Yelena was all over him, snoring and drooling into his shoulder. 

    Her hair was all messy, and one of her legs was draped over his right. 

   Bucky took a deep breath and realized how late it was in the morning. He usually woke much earlier than this to train and make breakfast. He faintly heard kids slamming their front doors closed and scrambling down their driveways to catch the bus, shouting at each other to hurry up.

   Yelena yawned like a cat, her mouth stretching open. Boy, did her breath smell putrid. She nuzzled in closer to him under his chin, and Bucky's body tensed. 

   Her lips parted, and her eyes drifted open. Neither one of them said anything as realization dawned on her face. 

   "Oh my- Shit! Sorry!" Yelena scrambled away from him, and a chilled feeling spread where her arm was a moment ago, like a... an abscence of some cold sort. "I'm sorry." She repeated firmly, as if she was trying to convince herself. Her cheeks flushed bright red in embarassment. 

  Bucky tried to resist the urge to laugh, but it burst out anyway. "It's alright, 'Lena," 

   They both stilled. He'd never called her that before. She'd never said he could call her that. Guilt welled up in him before he could even think about it.

   She got to her feet, smoothing it over with a carefree smile. Did that mean she was fine with it? "Let's have some breakfast." As she made her way into the kitchen, Bucky heard her exclaim, "Whoa! It's late!" 

   "What time is it?" Bucky called, pulling his blanket around his body and starting the usual morning search for Alpine. She was always in the most random places. She wasn't in the living room, so she might be in one of the other rooms. 

   "Uuuuh, 10:36."
  
   "Wow. I'm glad it's not a work day, or I'd be so busted. Have you seen Alpine?"

   "Nope. Haven't seen her half the time I've been here. Mysterious one, that cat." Pots and pans clashed in the kitchen as she looked for something to make the Cream of Wheat in. 

   "Lower middle cupboard, left side," he said as he walked past the kitchen.

   "Clothes, Bucky."

   "Oh, yeah. I'm going,"

   In his bedroom, he pulled on the first clean set of matching clothes he found and slipped on mismatched socks. Then he pulled his hair back and tied it, combing his finger through his locks to detangle it a little, as long as it was out of his face. Miscellaneous strands brushed the back of his neck and forehead. 

   "Mrow," 

   He turned and immediately followed the sound. Being silent while he wanled was a habit and came in handy while creeping up on Alpine. She was just as quiet as he was, though, so it was a bit of a challenge to find her in the first place.

   A snow-white head popped out of his closet, and Bucky sank to his knees, stretching his hands out to her. Alpine's icy blue eyes focused on him as she tentatively lept out of the closet. Her body fit right in his hands. 

   "Hey, Doll," he smiled, savouring the feel of her fur on his skin and and warmth of the home he finally had back. 

   Holding her loosely in his arms, he headed for the kitchen with a growling stomach... halting when he saw Sam Wilson.