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Setting: 1 month after Human (one of my older one shots, so this is pretty much a part two)
You watched his blue eyes lower across the room, his gaze then fixating on his trembling hands in his lap.
He'd been this way ever since he shot and killed the Hydra agent that had attempted to shoot you and force him back into a life controlled by Hydra. He had been questioning everything he stood for; he had been given a new outlook on his life.
Did Hydra still have control over him?
It was a question he asked you and Steve often, and it was a question you asked yourself every day. It was as if he was the old Bucky again, but the Winter Soldier still lingered within.
You and Steve were always on your toes around him; he was a time bomb. It had been a week since his last fit, meaning another could be expected today or tomorrow.
That was why you were sitting alone in the room, watching him silently through a glass window. In reality, the window wouldn't protect you from him. If he did breakdown again, he'd easily break through the glass and lock those metal fingers around your throat and end your life.
He wouldn't hurt me, you thought. He wouldn't hurt Steve, either.
Bucky had injured and nearly killed three people in the last month—three innocent people. It was as if he had some sort of glitch in his system; sometimes Bucky would vanish and instead be replaced by Winter.
When he had these slip ups, there was nothing anyone could do to make them stop. You just had to sit back, watch, and wait for it to run its course, because Bucky was gone, and Winter was inhuman.
"Do you believe in me?" Bucky asked the same thing he'd asked you that day on the quinjet—the day you pressured him into killing the Hydra agent.
You leaned towards the glass; as you did so, he looked up at you.
"I always have."
Bucky nodded, balling his metal hand into a fist and then releasing it, "Do you blame yourself?"
Arching an eyebrow, you continued to look at him, "For?"
"Do you blame yourself for what happened?"
He was referring to that day. He was referring to that split second when the Hydra agent asked you if you were going to kill him, and you replied, No, he is.
You swallowed harshly, your stomach twisting. Bucky asked this every time he lost control. Whenever he asked that question, you knew he was about to lose it. You knew that Winter was coming.
You nodded, watching as his eyes turned cold, "Yes, Bucky. I blame myself."
"You shouldn't."
"Why not?"
Bucky stood up from his chair, his metal hand bawling up into a fist over and over again, "I was going to kill him regardless."
You raised your brows, also standing from your chair in the opposite room. You approached the window as he walked towards it, too.
"It's my instinct," Bucky continued, staring at you, "it's what I was trained to do. It's all I'll ever be good at."
You shook your head, "That's not true."
"But it is." Bucky corrected you, now only a few centimeters of glass separating him from you. "I destroy everything I touch."
Again, you shook your head, "You're not what Hydra made you to be. Look how far you've come since you got away; you're a new man."
"No, I'm not. Don't lie to me; don't lie to yourself." He was so close to the glass now, his breath fogged up the glass for a second before fading away.
You felt your heart pumping faster, not out of fear, but out of concern. You cared so much about this man, yet he still saw himself as a monster—as a threat. Seeing him this way destroyed you; it broke you. You just wanted him to feel even a moment of happiness for once.
"Tell me the truth. Tell me what you really think of me." Bucky spoke seriously.
"It's not that easy, Buck." You explained, your own breath fogging the glass.
"Tell me how dangerous you think I am. I just want the truth." He sounded desperate to know, but you knew your answer was far from what he was expecting.
"The truth is," you sucked in a breath, "I love you."
And he snapped.
Bucky slammed his fist into the glass and you brought your arms up and ducked to prevent shards from hitting your face. He'd never actually scares you until now; he'd never posed as a danger to you until now.
Your eyes still squeezed shut and your arms covering your face, you felt him grab you. Your back met the wall, not too hard, but enough to knock the breath out of you. He peeled your arms away from your face and you found yourself looking into those icy eyes of his, strands of brown hair falling in his face.
He didn't punch you; he didn't even make any move to hurt you. He just stood there, and then he cupped the sides of your face and pressed his lips to your trembling ones.
Time itself stood still.
When he finally released you from his hold, he took in a deep breath. His eyes were warmer than they looked before. You didn't feel scared of him; you weren't worried that he might hurt someone. You couldn't even bring yourself to speak; you were at such a loss of words. So instead, you let him speak.
