a/n *italics indicate that it's a dream*
Y/N ran her fingers over her lips as she walked to her room. She could still feel the soft fluttering of Steve's lips on hers, even if they'd kissed a few hours ago. She still had the warm, sunny feeling in her, and she couldn't stop smiling. She had to fight away the urge to twirl on the spot and just...dance instead of walk. Every footstep seemed lighter than the next. She was walking on clouds, it felt.
The sky was on fire. As she closed her curtains, she could see the clouds ablaze. The tinges of blue were fading as the sun sank lower and lower into the sky, hiding just behind the horizon. And just above the swirls of pink and orange, the sky was painted dark, bringing in pinpricks of light.
She leapt into bed, pulling her duvet up over her face, unable to wipe away the wide grin stitched into her mouth. Finally...everything was piecing itself back together again.
But she knew that the good feelings would fade away and she'd be stuck with her nightmares again. And she didn't want that. The thought of falling asleep and being left unguarded to the horrific memories of the Red Room left her weak-kneed and shaky-breathed.
Dark thoughts were surfacing to the forefront of her brain as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her bedroom and she focused on the kiss, on her floating, happy feelings about Steve, but they weren't strong enough to drown out the screams and gunshots reverberating around in her head.
Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she heard the soft notes of piano stringing through the air. She spun around to the door, trying to figure out where the eerie tune was coming from but couldn't pinpoint a specific area.
Her feet decided which direction to take for her, dragging her down hallways to the staircase going up to the roof. She mindlessly took step after step, up the staircase, reaching to the top and pushing the door hard, making it swing open aggressively and bang into the wall on the other side. She couldn't think. Her mind was clogged up with the familiar sounds of piano, singing a haunting melody back from Russia.
As she got to the roof and her feet landed safely on the concrete floor, the music stopped, and she tumbled to the ground, crashing her knees to the hard surface. Jarring pain flooded towards her legs and she winced as she directed her attention to her knees. Clenching her teeth, Y/N got back up, clutching the door side as she hauled herself back upright to a standing position. Where had the music come from?
The melody had been so enrapturing. It had taken control of her body and dragged her to the roof. Why? The music was too familiar. It gave off a feeling of disconcertment as waves of familiarity sang out of it. She remembered dancing to it. Dancing until her feet bled...looking beautiful and dancing to beautiful music while she ached on the inside.
The tune restarted, playing a composition from 'Swan Lake'. Panic waltzed through her, tap-dancing against her heart and stomach, and mixing into her blood, resting in her bones.
Her limbs started to move without her commanding them to, her toes curling into pointes and her arms curving into swan-like gestures. She couldn't stop moving. The only beat she could listen to, to follow the music, was her heartbeat, and each palpitation was too fast to count.
Her body moved in routine, and she begged for it to stop.
Her feet hurt. She wanted to stop but she wasn't allowed to. She had to keep dancing. She had to stay strong...because strength is the only thing that allows you to stay sane in this place.
As she spun, the roof turned into a ballet studio. Exactly like in the Red Room. And in the far-right corner of the studio stood the Mistress, back straight, gun tucked in her belt. She held a sour expression on her face and Y/N's heart sank into a chasm of despair as she saw it. The Mistress was disappointed. She knew what that meant, and she dreaded it.
Distracted, she lost her footing, and tumbled to the floor, hitting her chin against the wooden surface with a bang. She clenched her teeth to stop letting out a scream of pain and forced herself to get back up.
Y/N turned to the Mistress, about to explain herself but her words caught in her throat as she saw the woman raise her gun, pointing it straight at Y/N's chest.
"No!" The scream sang in chorus with the bang, halting the music. And Y/N was on the floor again, this time on her back, closing her eyes as she tasted the metallic liquid hit her tongue and escape through her lips.
"No!"
Y/N's screams woke her up, tangled in bedsheets. Her skin was hot and sticky, and she wiped away a droplet of sweat off her forehead. She stared out into the void of darkness that was her room, trying to calm her pounding heart, her hands clenching the duvet on either side of her. Adrenaline was running through her, hastening her heartbeat and turning her stomach over. Her insides felt like they were knotted together, twisting and turning, and she forced back the urge to throw up from fear. Sickened with a tension of stress and terror, she tugged the covers up and hugged them, pulling them tight against her body.
Her body began to shake, and tears began to escape from her eyes, involuntarily. She was sick of being scared to fall asleep. Exhaustion's shadow was constantly looming over her. She ached for a normal night. To wake up without being terrified out of her wits.
Fatigue swept through her but the reluctance to return to her nightmares hindered it from allowing her to sleep. She couldn't bear to face these things on her own. She would lose her mind if she had to go through it again.
An overwhelming urge to knock on someone's door and ask for a hug crashed into her mind, erasing all other ideas of what to do instead of sleeping out of her brain. Her arms crossed themselves, trying to comfort her in a self-hug though she knew it wouldn't do much. She needed someone else.
~~~
Steve was lying, facing the ceiling when he heard a quiet knock on the door. It jolted him out of his reverie, and he stared at the door in confusion before glancing to the clock.
01.30
He rubbed his hands over his face as he walked to the door, yawning just before opening it. A mixture of shock and happiness greeted her through his facial expressions, tinged with worry.
"Y/N? What's up?" He asked, widening the door to let her in. She seemed twitchy, nervous, and was chewing at her lip.
She seemed unsure about what to say before just blurting out, "I can't sleep."
"Oh...do you..." Steve gestured at his unmade bed, "Do you..." His face heated up at the offer, "Do you want to stay in here?"
She looked relieved and her figure slumped in a more relaxed stance, "Can I?"
He nodded, trying not to seem too eager or reluctant. He moved to lie down in his bed and she hesitantly slid in on the other side. He brought an arm over her and pulled her into a soft hug, sighing when he felt her the rising and lowering of her chest as she breathed.
"Is this okay?" He mumbled in her ear and she hummed a response, presumably meaning yes because she then wrapped her own arms around his torso and brought herself even closer to him.
He moved to turn off the light, plunging them into infinite darkness. Her gentle breathing of her falling asleep had his eyelids droop, making him drift off into a deep slumber.
~~~
A cold icy feeling crept through him, jarring his brain, and sending feelings of dread all over him. His hand clamped onto the sink in his small bathroom and broke off a piece of the porcelain from the force of the grip. He stared at his metal hand in horror at what he'd done. He'd only been there for a few hours and he already disturbed the home. He didn't belong here. He wasn't supposed to be here. If only he hadn't let the Man on the Bridge and his companion in. Then maybe he wouldn't feel so alone. Maybe he could have started a new life...somewhere else...somewhere where he couldn't have to look over his shoulder every time he went out.
The urge to run was drowned away by sense. He wouldn't be able to leave without being caught. He hadn't eaten properly in days, and he was injured. Just thinking about the wound made it sting.
He looked up at his grimy, disgusting self in the mirror, catching a glimpse of the man he used to be for a second in his eye before it faded away to only show who he was now. A man who didn't even know his own name. A man who couldn't remember.
Bucky.
That was his name, wasn't it? That's what the Man on the Bridge said. The Man on the Bridge...Steve.
He tried to put on a smile, give his face some sort of life to it, but he wasn't sure how to anymore. He hadn't felt happiness for so long. The only feelings he knew were pain and confusion. How pathetic was he?
"My name is Bucky..." He croaked out, grimacing at his voice, "Bucky..." he frowned. There was another bit to it. Another 'B'. Bucky B, "My name is Bucky Barnes..." His head was starting to hurt from the strain of memories.
A wave of nausea crashed through him and he placed his hands flat on either side of the basin, staring at his dishevelled reflection in the glass.
"My name is Bucky Barnes." He forced out the words, gaining more and more confidence each time he said it.
Delight spread through him as he realised he managed to remember his name. He let out a breathy sound and gaped...he...laughed. He let it out again, his face cracking into a wide grin. He remembered.
~~~
Ever since that night, when Y/N went to Steve's room for a hug, they'd fallen into a pattern of sleeping in each other's arms. Neither of them were quite sure how it became a routine so quickly, although neither of them bothered to think about it. Maybe the kiss had broken down barriers between them, leaving them completely open to one another? Or maybe it was just that they found solace in cuddling one another. Or maybe it was the happy feeling they got when they saw one another wake up in the morning.
When Y/N woke up this morning, however, she wasn't feeling butterflies in her stomach, at all. Instead, her stomach felt like it had been knotted together in the most intricate of bows, and she felt like she couldn't really breathe...or that she was breathing too much. Not even Steve's half-asleep 'Good morning' could calm her nerves.
It took her a while to understand why she was feeling so anxious when she woke up, but then the realisation hit her like a freight train. She was going to meet the Soldat today. Or Bucky Barnes. Whoever it was that Steve had brought in a week ago.
"Hey," Steve mumbled, half his face pressed into the pillow.
She let a small smile creep up on her face as she regarded him, "Hey."
He groaned as he moved, propping himself up on his elbows and blinking at her, as the morning light snuck into the room through the cracks in the shutters, "Any nightmares?"
Y/N intertwined one her legs with his, "Only a small one, but it wasn't as bad."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, "You sure?"
She brought her own hand to clasp his, squeezing it gently, "Definite."
Steve grinned at her, broadly. She gave a wide smile in return. Her hand fell away from his as they leaned into one another, softly brushing their lips to one another's. She drove away the urge to deepen the kiss, instead running her fingers up and down his arm.
He pulled back suddenly, looking her deep in the eyes, "You're meeting Bucky today." He seemed to have just realised
The dread of doing that fell down on her like heavy weights and she fell back against her pillow, covering her face with her hands before letting go and looking at him, unsure, "Yeah..."
"Don't worry, I'll stay by your side for as long as you want me to," Steve assured her, one his hands travelling up her thigh to her waist under the covers.
She gave him an uncertain look and he brushed loose strands of hair from her face, "The meeting doesn't have to be long...maybe just a few minutes...if you're uncomfortable with any of it, we can leave immediately."
Y/N sighed, eventually nodding, "Yeah...I...It's probably good for me, anyway...I'm just..." She bit her lip, feeling bad for saying this, "I'm dreading it, that's all."
Steve responded with a light kiss on the forehead. He pulled back the covers, signifying time to go eat breakfast.
Y/N wasn't too sure if she could even handle eating right now. Unease and apprehension were cutting away at her appetite.
She was going to meet the Soldat. She was in control. He wasn't going to hurt her.
~~~
Steve's heart was pounding so loud in his ears as he stared at the door in front of him. The door in which behind waited Bucky. His best friend. He looked over at Y/N and frowned at the sickly pallor tingeing her skin.
"You alright?" He questioned, squeezing her hand in comfort. She squeezed back and nodded, doing nothing to assuage the new feeling of worry dancing through him.
She swallowed, "Let's do this."
He turned the doorknob and opened it, revealing a man with a metal arm hunched in a seating position on his bed, "Hey...I brought someone along, I hope you don't mind..."
Bucky turned to stare at him, the look of a wounded animal written all over his face before morphing into horror and shock.
Y/N's grip on Steve's hand was tight enough to cut off blood circulation and he tried to hold back a wince as it somehow got even tighter with the sight of Bucky.
He watched the back and forth of expressions between the two. Apprehension...wariness...shock...
"Bucky," Steve began, shattering the silence in an attempt to start a friendly introduction between the two, but Bucky cut him off before he could even finish his sentence.
"I remember you."