1| hips ♛ BUCKY BARNES

»07

It was drizzling outside, making the cabin more cozier than usual. The TV was on in the living room so that sound was provided during Bucky and Nava's silent gaps. The more quiet it got, the more tired they got. Bucky looked like he was going to collapse any moment, the dark spots circling his eyes burdensome. He started to wash the dishes, and Nava just couldn't take anymore of it.

"Why don't you rest?" she stood up and shut off the sink. "I'll take care of these." He did not let go of the dish right away. Nava's eyes softened, causing Bucky's face to respond similar. He nodded.

"Use my bed," she recommended.

Bucky left her sight, and it was good to know that somebody was going to get sleep.

♛

Bucky's chest squeezed his heart. Destruction. The mad world around him couldn't be saved. People were getting shot no matter where they stood. His fingers were red, as if all the blood he had spilled was literally on his hands. Screams were penetrating the air. Soldiers were ruthlessly killing each other, it was like every man for themselves. There was no where to hide, it was an open field with nothing but grass. Puffs of smoke were clouding the sky, making the stars invisible. Thunder was heard, but no rain. The grass was frosted over with the snow that had fallen a day ago.

Time seemed frozen. Every time a solider was stabbed, the blood would pour out, infecting the pure, white snow. Bucky's eyes hunted for a place where there was no suffering, but he was unsuccessful. He turned his head back and forth, left and right, and in any direction possible, attempting to find the safe haven. He listened close to see if there was anything worth hearing, and he received nothing but the sound of a gun cocking.

He spun around, and an AR-15 was aimed at him. Bucky was more surprised at the holder than the rifle being pointed in his face. "Sergeant Barnes, your death awaits you." The wind howled and the world dropped dead. Flurries bursted from the sky. Nava's face contorted from either the cold, or the long slice running from her forehead down to her cheek.
Bucky guessed it was the cut. Her eyes were saying different than her mindset was. They were a cold, cloudy gray, and not the ones that Nava had looked at him with when he held her. They were bloodthirsty and delusion. She didn't know what was going on. Her attitude said different; the way she said things proved she did not want to do whatever she was forced to do. She wanted to follow her own path, not be led by something that wouldn't help her. Bucky could sense the compulsion.

But it took over him too, and he grinned. "A fair fight," he retorted.

"A fair fight." Nava agreed, and dropped the gun.

Bucky choked her, compressing him thumbs into her neck. She gasped, and did her best to beg him to stop. Her eyes formed back to normal. "Don't kill me, like you killed them." Nava squeaked, and pointed.

He followed Nava's finger to see a extravagant amount of people standing and watching. Bucky recognized all of them, because he always remembered all of them. All of the people he had killed.

Bucky sat up in bed, feeling remorse. His lips were parched and dry, and he was anything but tired. Nava was intently staring at him. He was startled, not expecting her to be sitting there and observing him.

"You were screaming," she explained and handed him his bottle of water off the nightstand. "And then you weren't waking up."