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The quiet of her bedroom was a welcome change to the pleading from within her dream, although it wasn't enough to stop her from shooting up from her bed in a fit of gasping breaths. Her fists scrubbed her wet face, but the tears were replaced just as quickly, making her attempts more frustrating than helpful.

If only she could scrub the dream from her mind. Even for a few moments so she could distance herself from the feeling of killing someone.

She crawled off her bed and paced at its foot, feeling as if her nervous energy was going to burst out of her skin at any second. A sharp breath pushed from her mouth as she bounced on her toes, shaking her hands out in some pathetic attempt to calm down.

It wasn't enough.

She slipped through her door quickly, but as she stepped into the hall, quiet music drifted towards her, making her hesitate. It was only when she got around the corner that she noticed Bucky in the living room, swaying ever so slightly to the music; like he was fighting the urge to fall back into its familiar rhythm.

She felt like she'd intruded on him, but rather than stepping away like her mind was screaming at her to do, she approached him with silent footsteps.

There was something deeply sad about him in that moment, even though his face was at peace... It was possibly the music combined with him being awake because of a nightmare. Or possibly the simple fact that he was alone when he was meant to have someone with him.

Whatever the reason, she felt the need to help.

So, as she stepped within a foot of him, she reached out. "Keep your eyes closed," she whispered before taking his hands in her own.

His fingers squeezed hers—the only recognition she received—before she guided his hands to her waist. They fell into place without hesitation, and she reached up, just able to link her fingers behind his neck.

He let out an airy chuckle, eyes still complicitly closed. "You're a little short, Sweetheart."

"Yah, yah," she breathed as she found her footing before Bucky began to sway side to side.

The room was silent other than the music until he let out a breath and hung his head, and suddenly he didn't look at peace anymore. His emotions were written so clearly across his face; tiredness, guilt, dread. She knew the last few months had been hard for him, but it was rare to see him displaying it so honestly and not as a façade of indifference.

She knew he wasn't indifferent, he'd been pretty clear about that, but he was always the rock for her—it was slightly startling to see the release so blatantly. She felt it was her turn to be the rock, so she fought down on her own demons, doing her best to keep them at bay.

But the reality of their situation hit her; they were both reeling from nightmares induced by the same disgusting people, and now they only had each other to find comfort in halfway through the night.

That was heartbreaking.

She leaned herself forward so she could rest her head against his shoulder and shut her eyes, focusing on the gentle music, but it didn't take long for another wave of grief to hit her and tears were once again falling down her cheeks.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked as the song changed.

Be his rock.

She tried to distract herself with the music as she clenched her jaw, hoping she would be able to answer clearly. "No," she whispered, voice thick.

He tensed immediately, pulling his head back to look at her. She wouldn't meet his gaze; just kept hers focused on how his shirt wrapped around his left arm. But then his hands let go of her hips, rising to cup her cheeks where his thumbs wiped gently beneath her eyes.

A Birdie Lost in Time | Bucky BarnesWhere stories live. Discover now