Bucky sat against the wall opposite of me for awhile until I had cooled off. My face seemed to always be puffy these last couple days and I wondered if I could go a day without crying.
This nightmare was more vivid than the one with Steve. It was almost exactly the same as what actually happened on the quinjet before, but instead of me forcing Bucky off, he kept his hands right where they were until I was dead. Bucky threw me again and again and I had no power. I couldn't save myself and all I could do was stare into his lifeless, mechanical eyes.
Bucky's face after telling him this was almost worse than the dream itself, mostly because it was the reality. I could sense a little part inside of him broke upon remembering that he still and always had some Hydra left in him.
It was almost an hour before Natasha was sent in to talk to us. Fury asked her to make sure we were both alright, and that I was okay to be taken back. She led us both to our room, where she told us Fury's instructions.
Banner had appointments set up to monitor my mind and train me every so often. But as for Bucky, he was no longer permitted to go on missions because of the risk of me being left alone with anyone but him. Natasha left before I could argue against the latter, but she swiftly gave me no chance to bring it up.
"I can't make you do this Bucky. I can't take you away from your missions," I pleaded.
"It's okay Darby. I thought about it for awhile, and I want to make sure you know something," he started. "I want you to be aware that I'm looking out for you not because I was assigned to you, or felt pity for you."
"You felt...pity for me?" I gulped.
I knew that no one in their right mind would want to help me, other than just plain ol' feeling bad for the girl who never stops crying and messes stuff up.
"Darby-" he uttered, walking closer to me.
"Stop it Bucky! I know that you think of me as some wallowing pit of tears, but don't sacrifice your freedom over that," I stuttered, turning away.
"You are being insane!"
"What's new?" I scoffed, my eyes welling.
"No, Darby. Listen to me," he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around. "You are insane...completely insane to think that I would ever help you for any other reason than that I care for you! I don't know if you feel the same, or if I'm just your stress ball, but I extremely, deeply, completely care for you Darby Whitmore. I can never stop caring for you, and it hurts me that you can't accept the fact that I do," he mumbled, trailing off near the end.
I felt my heart skip a beat, and then take an entire leap across my chest. As if it was an involuntary instinct, I leaned towards him swiftly and wrapped my arms around his body. I buried my face in the nook between his two collarbones, and could smell that faint musky-mint scent.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"It's okay," he replied, running his hands through the ends of my hair.
"You don't think I use you as my stress ball, do you?" I looked up at him. "Because as weird as this sentence may sound, you're not my stressball. You're my life raft."
His eyes met mine and he started to giggle. "Kind, pretty, and smart...time to add cheesy to that list," he smirked.
"Shut up Barnes, you know you love me," I joked, not realizing my choice of words. I tried to play it off and sunk myself back into a hug, steadily hearing his heart get faster at my voice.
'You got that right.'