During the first month, Steve didn't really try to find you and Bucky, knowing that any interference would likely be met with the same result as the last time he had seen the two of you, and he didn't want that. He didn't want to fight either of you at all, and he was being honest when he said that he was only trying to do what he thought was best for you. But, of course, you were right, and he had blinded himself to any other ideas about it, and took it too far without even checking with you first. He had been chastising himself every day over it, punishing and berating himself until he was just sick to his stomach over the person that he had become. It had made him so sick of being this version of himself that he had become an automaton in his work, going through the motions just enough to make it to the next day, and the next. He thought that he was pulling it off pretty well, but that should have been a giant red flag and blaring alarms in his mind; he didn't even realize how terrible of a job he had been doing, and how the team was merely picking up his slack out of kindness.

When the date arrived that marked six months since you had run away with his best friend, still without so much as a whisper as to where you were, Steve finally snapped.

"Hey, Cap, come on," Sam called out to his friend from the gym door, "Tony wants the jet in the air in five minutes."

"Tell him that I'm not going."

"What? Why? You okay?"

"You let them go, Sam," came a quiet and measured, but cold answer. "He isn't even your friend."

Sam had been waiting this past six months for this conversation. When they had come back home that day after he had kept Nat and Steve from stopping you, Steve hadn't said a word about it. After time continued marching on, Sam began to wonder if he ever would, and as each day passed, he started to worry that it was just a time bomb building up in his friend; in this moment, he thought that maybe he was right all along. "Just because I haven't known the guy for almost a century like you have, we can't be friends?"

Steve stood silently as he allowed that thought to roll through his mind, his eyes on the shield that he held in his hands, his own reflection staring back at him in the polish of the Vibranium. It was a symbol of truth and honor, neither of which he felt that he owned anymore. "You let them go," he repeated.

"Yeah, I did. Because he asked me to."

"Have you talked to him since they left?"

Sam sucked in a harsh breath, giving away the answer before he had a second to utter a syllable, and he could see that Steve caught it just as quickly. His lips pursed as he tried to think of a way to say it without causing so much pain, but ultimately, there were no words in any of the languages that he knew that would soften this betrayal. "Yeah, I have."

All Steve could do was nod his head, slowly and silently, his voice mute beneath a tight throat that burned with the urge to scream with every last breath in his chest. His shoulders hunched and began to shake just slightly as his breathing quickened with the growth of his rage, and there was nothing he could do to stop it; honestly, he didn't even want to. He wasn't mad at Sam, or you, or even Bucky; he was irate with himself for letting it get this far, and the grip on his shield became so forceful that his fingers blanched white under the pressure. A low growl was all that he could muster, but it was enough for Sam to take a small step back through the door, yet keeping his eyes on his friend.

"Steve, don't."

Steve's growl turned into a roar; the roar of a man desperate to hold himself together as each side of himself split away and out of his reach. He spun quickly, his arm drawn back to gather the limits of his strength before releasing that shield, barely giving Sam the time to escape the hit that shattered the walls of glass like a rainstorm of sparkling shards around him.

~~~

Every night you would wake to a nightmare, and it was always the same.

You were alone in a cold, dark, and damp room, lying still on an unforgiving steel tabletop, unable to move from the restraints that held you in place. You would try to call out to see if anyone was there with you, but your voice was gravelly and too quiet to carry in the musty air that burned your lungs with each breath. It felt like the darkness went on forever around you, as if the room were limitless, until a single light would come on to shine down over your figure. Once your eyes adjusted from the blinding glare, and the irritating sting of tears was gone, two faces always came into view. To your right was your father, who you had barely known other than as this, his Hydra persona and the one who you associated with pain. To your left was the Winter Soldier, emotionless and awaiting his instructions for what he needed to do with you on this day. He was going to make you into something else, something new, and something dangerous, but you were powerless to stop him. When the burning pain began to course through your veins and tore at your mind, just as it did every day when they stood at your side, your mind jolted you out of it and you screamed out into the room that was just as dark as the one in your nightmare, where one of those faces still remained.

"Hey, you're okay," Bucky soothed, taking your face in his hands and searching your eyes, "(Y/N), you're safe. I'm not the Soldier, I'm Bucky. Come on, doll, come back. You know who I am."

"B-Bucky?" you gasped, trying to catch your breath. "Where...where am I?"

"You're safe, I promise. You'll always be safe from now on, I've got you." You squeezed your eyes shut tight, your mind trying to keep you in your nightmare, but he wasn't having it. "No, open your eyes, (Y/N). You have to look at me."

Reluctantly, and filled with fear as to what reality awaited, you opened your eyes to see the softer version of him in front of you, eagerly smiling at the sign of your recognition. "I'm sorry," you whispered, "I keep waking you up like this. Probably all of our neighbors, too."

"Nah," he chuckled, "Andre and Vasile are so old that they're deaf as stones, and it's Saturday, so you know that Elena will be out until at least sunrise. Oh...wait," he paused cautiously, "you do remember who they are, right? Do I have to go over that again?"

"I know who they are," you yawned softly, "it's you that I'm having a hard time with."

"Are you serious?" Bucky's face contorted into a sad pout, if you could call it that, and you swore that you could see into his poor broken soul as his eyes dilated and began to glisten.

"Oh, my god, Buck, I was joking."

"You can't do that to me! Dammit, woman, you know that I feel guilty enough. Just twist the knife a little more, why dontcha?"

"Sorry, sorry," you apologized quickly, your hands up in defense, "terrible sense of humor survived the brainwashing." You sat silently as you watched him regarding you, waiting to see if he was buying it and wouldn't begin to berate himself like he did all too often. "I'm serious, just a shitty joke. So...how early did I wake you up this time?"

"Um, I think it's like 4am? Since you're so rude and won't let me sleep, I say we get up and take a walk before we come back and you make me breakfast." With a playful tap of his hand against your leg, Bucky stood and made his way to the door, running a hand through his sleep messed hair before turning back for your answer. "Scoot. Up and at em!"

"Or," you countered with the hint of a smirk, "we could stay here and go back to sleep because it's too early for this." Allowing yourself to tip back onto the pillow with a heavy thud, you pulled your blankets up over your head again with a contented sigh, only to let out a sharp yelp when his hands slid beneath them to grab your ankles, dragging you out from the end of the bed and onto the floor at his feet. As if the striking cold of his metal hand on your warm skin wasn't enough to startle you awake, the thud of your butt on the floor jarred you enough to do the trick. "You're such a jerk!"

"Never said I wasn't," he shrugged. "Now come on, you woke me up, so take me for a walk."

"Like a dog?"

"I'll just grab my leash," he laughed, turning to leave so that you could get ready, but you knew that he wasn't more than a simple call of your voice away. He may have been acting playful for your benefit, trying to help you and keep you from returning to that mind state you had just escaped, but he couldn't hide the remorse that he carried with him every minute of every day. He brought you here for one reason; to clear your mind of those traumatic memories, and it almost worked.

He had found one of the old labs that he had been 'created' in, using the old and dormant machinery to clear your mind as much as he could, but remnants were left behind. They were only nightmares anymore, and you had yet to flip into your own soldier ways since the two of you had been together. It seemed to be as successful as it would ever be, and he was determined to repay you by teaching you some of the joys of life that he had to wash away in the process, and to give you a life that he believed he had robbed you of once before.

~~~

"This is a plum, doll."

"I know what a plum is, Buck."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be sure, cut me some slack," he laughed, dropping the fruit gently back into its crate. "They're good for keeping your memory sharp. We should get some." Bucky turned from you and spoke to the keeper of the tiny market, his Romanian flawless but spoken so softly that you had trouble keeping up. He studied each piece of fruit before placing it into a flimsy paper bag, dropping a few random coins into her weathered, old hands before giving his thanks and linking his arm with yours to continue on your way. "Okay, now where to?"

"Well, I was thinking-"

"That's terrifying."

"Hey, shut up," you nudged, tipping him off of his footing just a little, "rude, Barnes. Anyway, I was thinking that maybe...I don't know, maybe it was time to think about going back?"

"Back where?"

"Are you serious? You told me that you and I are Avengers, remember? Don't you think that we should make our way home so I can start to learn and get my life back? I have to start over now, and that's going to take some time. I want to get started. I'm ready."

"You're not ready," he answered flatly and assured of himself.

"Excuse me?"

"(Y/N), you wake up every night with nightmares-"

"But I haven't turned into that assassin thing since we got here. You said that's what Steve was so scared of, so what are we waiting for?"

"I still have to teach you so many things-"

"That I can learn there."

"It's too much all at once."

"Why are you so against this?" you asked with a shrill tone that stopped him in his tracks. You pulled your arm away from his and pressed your hands tightly to your hips, staring him down with accusation and inquisitiveness, waiting for him to give you another answer that you could easily shoot down, but that wasn't what you got.

"I don't want to leave yet, because all I want is to be here with you, okay? I don't want to go back to that life of missions, and fighting, and killing. I want to stay here a while and live a simple life without all of that crap, and I want to wake up every day and make breakfast together, and take long walks to buy cheap fruit. I want to teach you things that make you look at me like I'm the smartest guy you've ever met, and I just...I want to be where I don't have to worry about losing everything...or you."

You must have looked ridiculous, your mouth hanging open in complete shock at what he had said. He stood silently, staring at you for the answer that he was desperately needing to hear, but in the moment, you were simply blank. "Buck..."

"Look, I'm sorry," he quickly backpedaled, dropping his gaze to his feet shyly, "that was heavy, and I shouldn't have put all of that on you. That's my baggage, okay?"

"Bucky," you insisted again, "look at me." When he didn't comply, your tone became more forceful, "hey, you can't just put that out there and then think we're dropping it." He finally listened, raising his head just enough to glance at you before looking away again, almost as if it pained him for you to see him that way. "So, now that you've gotten that off of your chest...are you going to kiss me, or what? It seems like this is your window-"

"Damn right I am," he sighed in relief, rushing forward to once again take your face in his hands, his lips finding yours so forcefully that it stole your breath and sent a chill that ran down your spine and made your legs weak. Now more than ever, you knew that there was no way that this man was the one who kept plaguing your nightmares, of that you were certain. Your mind had to be tricking you each night, torturing you to think that Bucky could ever be that cruel, that he could shred your life and mold it into an assassin; your own mind was trying to convince you that you wouldn't find happiness after the life you had led with Hydra.

It was ridiculous to think that Bucky Barnes could have ever been the Winter Soldier.