December // A Winter Soldier Story

36

ｊａｎｕａｒｙ ７ｔｈ， ２０１４

３５°

ℒℯ𝒶

As she watches him go into the stairwell, she thinks - will I see him again?

She knows she can't think these things. All it does it make him leaving hurt more. She also knows how skilled of an assassin he is; he has, quite literally, been bred for this, and will likely be fine.

But she is always worried that he will not come back to her. She has worried this since the day he appeared on her porch, covered in blood, and disappeared the next night. She can't explain it, but it's like she didn't know she'd been struggling to breathe until he'd come and filled her lungs; like the whole world is screaming mad and the only thing that quiets everything is when his eyes are locked with hers. He is just a person, and yet he is so much more. It is like he is her whole world; her only desire, her biggest worry, her sole relief.

She didn't know there was so much emotion out there to feel. How did she live before he was here? How did she keep going despite never feeling this burning flame of hope and bravery that rages within her now?

It hits her; she understands it now, why people are willing to go to the ends of the Earth for others, why some would rather die than live without the only person that ever made them feel something. It is one thing to be alive, it is another to live. Bucky, with every breath he takes, stirs up so much emotion inside of her that it feels like she was asleep before, and now she is awoken to the dawning of a new world. Everything is new, and vivid, and changed. She would give anything to feel this way for the rest of her life.

A gunshot sounds in the stairwell, interrupting her thoughts and bringing her roaring back to the present. Then another. Two more, and her eyes trail to the door. Her heart beats heavy in her chest. There's a scream, and she closes her eyes. It's not his voice, but she worries nonetheless. He will be okay, she tells herself. She knows it because he has to be. Because they just figured out how to break through the cage they'd been in before. Because it can't be over yet.

Now that her thoughts have stopped, she is more alert. Footsteps echo down a hallway somewhere, a faraway scream makes her blood run cold, quiet voices are coming from every direction.

She imagines all the other prisoners who have been here before her, how many took their last breath in this cold building. This is a place where the promise of power has turned men into animals. They claim their radical beliefs of how the world works have enlightened them, helped them grow, but all it has done is made them regress and become savages. Bringing pain on others gives them the false illusion that they have power; killing makes them feel like they are superior.

One man's greed leads to another's death. Or, even worse, it leads to seventy years of life, memories, emotions all being stolen from you while your hands are bloodied against your will.

As if a moment guided by fate, it is when she thinks this that Bucky finally emerges from the stairwell door. He is quiet and still as he stands before her, the only part of his body moving being his chest as he breathes heavily. She scans the suit that she knows so well, looking for tears, rips, or holes where any number of weapons might've carved into his skin. But she finds none.

Looking up at his face, she understands his silence; his eyes are far away, unfocused. A spray of blood coats his left cheek. He has just killed someone, and she must help his find his way back to his humanity, find a way to forgive himself.

She puts her hands on his cheeks, ignoring the blood and cupping his face between her palms. His stubble rubs against her skin, and his eyes lift to hers, weary.