I'll Keep This Secret For You

Chapter 20

It feels like you've just closed your eyes when suddenly you're being woken up again by the heart wrenching sound of your husbands pained cries and the feeling of the bed dipping as he thrashes around in his sleep beneath you.

This situation is becoming all too familiar now ever since he's been home.

Instantly all grogginess that would usually be there when you first wake up is forgotten as you sit up to try and wake him.

"Bucky." You whisper and shake his shoulder hard.

You're becoming experienced with how to wake him up and it tends to take a lot.

"Bucky come on baby please wake up!" You say in a pained voice as you helplessly watch the way his face contorts with terrified agony.

He grips at the sheets and you can see the sweat dripping down his forehead. He has no idea what is going on.

Tears spring to your eyes at the dreadful sight. It breaks your heart. "It's just a dream Buck. You're safe. I'm here."

"No no please! Don't do this to me! I have to go home! I have a family!" He whimpers.

This surprised you. He's never actually talked before, only made incoherent noises.

"Wake up Bucky please come on you can do it." You beg him and shake his shoulders harder, you're practically on top of him now.

"Ahhh!" He shouts as if he is being hurt.

Oh god. This is the worst it has ever been. You've never seen it this bad. Although he can't help it you start to fear that he is going to wake up the kids.

Sure enough you start to hear the faint sound of Isla crying from the kids bedroom. This only breaks your heart more. You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration.

Panicking, there is only one thing you can think to do and before you even register what it is properly your palm is stinging from slapping Bucky across the face.

Suddenly he bolts upright in the bed, gasping for breath. His breathing is heavy and ragged and his pupils are dilated massively. Through the darkness you can see the whites of his wide, scared eyes as he looks around the room trying to get his bearings.

You cup his face and try to get him to look at you but he doesn't seem to register that you are right in front of him calling his name.

"Bucky, bucky it's okay. You're okay. Bucky look at me," you whisper frantically.

Finally his gaze lands on you and he relaxes somewhat.

"You're safe. You're home with me and the kids Bucky. You're going to be fine," you continue.

His bottom lip starts to quiver and his eyes rim with tears before he collapses against you, burying his head in your chest. His body convulses severely with each sob.

"Shhh, shhh. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You mumble as you hold him tightly against you, stroking his back and fumbling your fingers through his hair that is damp with sweat.

All the while you can still hear Isla crying and you are torn between comforting Bucky and comforting her. But from the way Bucky is clutching onto you you don't think he's going to let you go any time soon.

"D-dont be s-sorry. Y-you h-had to wake m-me u-up. Th-thank you." He stutters, his body trembling violently.

You don't know what to say. You've never seen him like this before. You just sit there silently, trying to calm him until he starts to settle somewhat. Eventually he must hear Isla crying because he asks about her.

"Oh god, did I wake her?" He mumbles.

"It's not your fault," you tell him instantly.

"You should go to her. You'll be able to settle her down." He breathes shakily.

"Are you going to be okay if I leave for a moment?" You ask him unsurely.

"I'll manage." He sighs and reluctantly uncoils himself from you.

"I'll be quick I promise and I'm just right next door," you say as you slide out of bed and pull your dressing gown around you.

"Take all the time she needs. Don't rush." He shakes his head.

You nod and leave the room, catching sight of the clock as you go, 2:36am.

The image of Bucky trapped in his nightmare tattooed in your mind causes a shudder to run down your spine. Even now he still looks terrified and rigid as he curls up, holding a pillow with distant, foggy eyes where you leave him alone.

"Isla baby shh, it's okay. I'm here." You whisper as you enter their room.

"Mumma?" You hear her whimper through the darkness, her voice thick with tears.

"Hey little girl!" You smile as you bend down and pick her up. "See? Everything's fine."

"Mum?" Luke suddenly asks timidly.

You sigh realising that unsurprisingly he's been woken up too.

"Yeah honey?" You asks quietly.

"Was that dad screaming?"

You're stomach drops. What are you supposed to say to that? He's a nine year old boy and Isla's a two nearly three year old girl, she'll probably understand. You guess you'll just have to be honest because at this rate it's only going to continue.

"It was baby." You sigh sadly. "He just had a bad dream."

"Wow, it must've been a very bad one. Is he okay?" He frowns worried fro his bed.

"Yeah he's alright. He's just a little bit shaken up because of what happened to him during the war," you try to explain.

"Oh." Is all you get in reply.

You go back to soothing Isla and gently swaying her up and down.

"There? All better now?" You ask lightly as you finally lay her back down when her head starts to rest on your shoulder tiredly. "Be a good girl and go back to sleep now," you whisper and softly press a kiss to her forehead and brush her wispy brown hair off of her forehead. "Night Luke. Sleep well and don't worry about Buck." You add as you head back out.

"Goodnight mum love you." You hear him say just as you click the door shut.

When you walk back into your room you swear that you could see Bucky jump when the door first opens but he does his best to hide it. He rolls over, his eyes wide and a pillow clutched to his chest to only relax a little when he sees you.

"Hey you okay?" You ask softly as you slide into the bed beside you.

"Yep." He says flatly and instantly latches onto you as if your his lifeline.

You know he's lying. He's behaving like a little kid. However, you know that he has every right to. Whatever is going on in his head is really rattling him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

You internally groan. As much as you love him this is hard and frustrating for you. He was so good about opening up and explaining what happened when he first got home but now he won't even touch on his nightmares; the things that have continued to affect him the most severely. You're dying to know what they're about.

You don't know how much more of this you can take. And frankly you don't know how much more of it he can take either.

It's been nearly three months now, of interrupted, sleepless nights. Pretty much every single night he ends up curled up in your lap crying in terror as memories that you don't even want to begin to imagine haunt him. Sometimes it even seems like he's guilty although you can't imagine why.

"Okay." You finally sigh knowing that now isn't the time to bring it up. "But we will talk about it in the morning," you add as you wrap your arms around his seemingly fragile frame and press a kiss to his forehead.

You know he won't be sleeping again tonight.