~26~

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    ~26~

"Like a heartbeat drives you mad,
In the stillness of remembering what you had,
And what you lost,
And what you had,
And what you lost."

<'Dreams'> Fleetwood Mac




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"BUCKY," SHE calls desperately, her small hands grasping his shoulders.

He whimpers again beside her and she props herself up on the floor. "Buck, come on, you're OK," she coos, stroking his hair, her heart jerking at his pained expression.

"Dani," he breathes, his eyes still screwed shut, his fist wraps around the sleeping bag, his body jerking.

"I'm here, love, I'm OK, wake up."

She calls his name again and he jerks upwards, his glassy eyes snapping open, frantically searching until they meet hers. She cups the back of his head, pulling him towards her. She strokes his back gingerly. "You're OK, baby," she whispers. "It was a nightmare. We're fine."

His body trembles fractionally against hers as his arms wrap around her torso and she guides him to lie down. "I thought, you were-" he stutters.

She shakes her head against him. "I'm fine. I promise."

"Did I-" he pulls away, his guilt-ridden eyes dancing over her. His pale face is glazed with sweat and his broad chest rises and falls heavily.

"No," she answers quickly, "You didn't do anything."

He swallows and she pulls his head back into her, her fingers resuming a circular action of his shoulder. She holds him until she hears his breathing return to normal and his body relaxes before she allows her own eyes to close.


••••••••

She pushes herself into a sitting position, her hand reaching over to find an empty space beside her, she swallows back her immediate panic as best she can, stepping over to the small counter top. She touches the crumpled note with Bucky's handwriting scrawled across it.

I've gone to get food, I'll be back soon, I promise x

- Buck

A faint smile graces her lips as she rubs her eyes. She rolls her shoulders back, turning back to face the apartment. Sunlight peeks through the newspapers pinned to the window. She slips on a hoodie over her tank top, still in thin shorts from her sleep. She breathes an exhale, stepping over to the window, she peers out the gap in the paper, barely glimpsing the city below her. She misses the quiet of the cabin, no one to bother them, or the smell of fuel.

She rakes her fingers through her long hair - too long - in desperate need of a haircut, pulling it into a low ponytail. She hums softly to herself while she does so.

Until she hears footsteps beyond the door.

She freezes, immediate and debilitating panic arising and causing a tightening in her chest. The knob rattles. She glances around frantically, diving towards the drawer of the counter and pulling out the handgun.

The door caves in, her aim instantly lifting to meet the man's eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Blue eyes.

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