Ghostwalker ▷ b. barnes [2]

xxxii. cut off one head

THEY TOOK COVER IN AN OLD, QUIET APARTMENT BUILDING.

Sam leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing in and out. Her side ached, bruises forming on her cheek where Rumlow's fist had caught her.

But she was alive. They were alive.

Glancing up, she saw Bucky standing near the window, his back to her. He didn't seem nearly as affected as her, metal fist clenched tight as he gazed outward. Catching another breath, Sam pushed herself forward and touched his shoulder.

"Anything out there?"

The man started. Sam froze and retracted her hand.

Carefully, cautiously.

Slowly, he turned around. Brown hair hung over his eyes, a small cut on his lip. He wore the expression of a hunted animal; body tensed and eyes hooded. It scared her but Sam forced herself to hold her ground.

I know him, she told herself. He won't hurt me.

Still, the moment that passed between them was strained and fragile. She wetted her lips.

"Barnes?"

Bucky blinked and the expression relaxed a little. He stepped forward and searched her up and down, eyes drinking in every feature, every little wound. Gentle fingers took her chin, cupping it, and he studied the bruises. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright."

"We can't stay here long."

She knew he was right. But neither of them made a move to break apart and Sam smiled softly, brushing brown hair from his face. "You need a haircut, you know."

He chuckled and it was a true laugh. Sam could have listened to it forever. Brushing her fingers down his jaw, she touched his metal arm again.

Bucky stiffened, but didn't pull away. His thumb continued to trace her cheek.

The metal was cold beneath her fingers.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes." The laughter evaporated from his words. Ghost pain flickered through his eyes as he twisted it a little. "When they're working on it. When it malfunctions."

Her heart twisted. "Oh, Barnes."

"Sometimes, I forget it's there. I forget it's not real, I forget the damage it can do."

"A phantom limb," she murmured. His eyes flickered.

"I'm sorry, Smalls."

"Hey," she reached up and took his human hand, threading her fingers through his own. The touch was warm. Familiar. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I have a lot of things to apologize for."

"Well," she said. "I don't want to hear them. You understand me, Barnes?"