(disassemble[2.22]);

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I awoke with a jolt

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I awoke with a jolt. I was on my side, facing Bucky, who was holding me, stroking my hair. I tugged away from him, and he released me just long enough for me to sit up. He rose beside me and collected me back into his arms, tapping fours on my shoulder.

I'd been having a nightmare. That was new.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You want me to get you some water?"

"Don't leave," I said.

"Okay," he muttered. "I won't. I've got you, baby. I'm here."

I knew where I was, but the panic still wasn't going away.

"Is this how you feel all the time when you get nightmares?" I asked

"I don't know, doll."

"I'm sorry. This sucks really bad."

"Isn't today the day that album you were waiting on comes out? What time can you listen to it?" he asked, attempting to distract me.

"Can I tell you about the nightmare?" I asked instead.

"Of course you can."

"Um, it was about Rumlow. I guess it was just, um, hard to see his face today and not have stuff come back into my mind. About seeing him kill people. Feeling helpless to stop it. Feeling guilty that he didn't hurt me."

He brushed my hair away from my face and wiped a tear off my cheek.

"We never should have asked you to see him," he said, starting to sound stiff, the way he always did when he was trying to stay calm.

"No, it's okay. I wanted to help. Are you okay?"

He was taking deep, heavy breaths. His hands were still cupping my face, and he stroked my jaw with his thumb. "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm just angry."

"At me?"

"What? No. Not at you, baby. I should've stopped them from asking you."

"No, I'm glad I went. We got what we needed."

"What do you need from me right now?" he asked. "I just wanna do what you need. Do you wanna go back to sleep? Keep talking about it? Watch a movie?"

"Can you teach me how to shoot a gun? Like you said you would? Just as a distraction? You know I talk through movies. And I don't wanna sleep."

"Yeah, baby, I'll teach you," he said immediately, standing up. "Get dressed."

;

It was nearing 3 in the morning when we arrived on the floor of the training facilities. The lights were off, and switched on automatically when we entered. He led me into the shooting range, where I'd never been before, and sat a duffle bag down on a bench in front of a target.

"Kinda dark that the target looks like a person," I said.

"Yeah, kinda dark," he agreed, pulling a handgun from the bag and placing it on the bench. He moved the bag out of the way.

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