The ghosts we hide (Winter Soldier x OC)

Fifty six

Three days pass with me managing to avoid Bucky, my reaction to our proximity having shaken me somewhat.

What the hell was I doing?

Even now, the thought of his lips inches from mine makes my heart pick up.

No.

Shaking my head clear of the memory, I roll over to my other side, reaching a hand from under the covers to check my phone. The screen flashes 02:30.

I sigh.

Peter went home over three hours ago after Tony foiled our plans of an all night movie marathon, leaving me to toss and turn as usual.

Bucky, Steve, Sam and Natasha all only stayed to watch one movie before feigning fatigue for the pretence of an early night. I think everyone is under a lot of stress and sitting around doing nothing isn't helping. That or they find Peter and I annoying.

Yawning, I move onto my back so that I can stare at the ceiling, fruitlessly hoping that the monotonous expanse of white plaster will lull me to sleep.

It doesn't.

Half an hour later, I finally give up and throw back the covers. Wincing, I get carefully to my feet and limp to the door, opening it gently. The corridor is completely empty from what I can make out in the dark, which isn't much.

As quietly as I can, I make my way down the hall in slow, jerking movements. I have to balance on the sides of my feet to avoid putting pressure on my half healed cuts, my hand finding the wall every now and then to avoid toppling over.

The puncture wounds are a lot better than a few days ago, but it still hurts to walk on them. Despite this, I'm starting to get impatient at my injury and I can already tell I'll be forcing myself to walk normally in the next few days.

I wouldn't have this long to recover in Hydra - I'm sure I can cope.

The main space is completely empty. My eyes linger on a certain spot on the red sofas, a small stab of disappointment wedging itself in my chest at the absence of the shadowy figure that is so often there. Tonight must be one of the rare nights Bucky is actually attempting sleep.

I avert my eyes from the sofas, attempting to shake away the thought, and make my way to the kitchen. A frustrated sigh leaves my lips at my brain's insistence to see Bucky everywhere.

A few months ago he was my worst nightmare - what changed?

I sigh, taking a cup from a cupboard.

I got to know him.

The tap is almost unbearably noisy in the absolute quiet of the dark room, the gushing water sounding like a waterfall to my ears. I fill the cup up to drink from, downing the clear liquid in a few gulps before topping it up and repeating. Once I'm done, I turn off the tap and lean back against the side, closing my eyes to the blackness that already surrounds me.

I tilt my head back, stifling a yawn as I revel in the silence of the night.

Peaceful - things have been lacking that recently.

But after only a few moments a new sound reaches my ears. It's low and barely audible to the point that I'm sure I've imagined it at first, the room falling into a mute stillness once more. But then it comes again, louder this time, a muffled groaning noise leaking from the direction of the bedrooms.