Nightshade

Bucky had been captured not long after your apartment building had been invaded.

Now he sat in a cell, restrained, though he didn't fight.

A man sat before him, outside his cell, at a table... talking to him.

Bucky gave very little interaction. When the man called him 'James', he stated that his name was 'Bucky'. You were the only one he wanted to call him by his given name. Bucky also declined an exchange of conversation when asked about what he's seen in life, "I don't wanna talk about it."

Though he heard everything the man was saying, his energy was focused on his own thoughts... thoughts of forming an escape... not making you wait, without his protection. He trusted his connections, but if you weren't in his sights at all times, he fretted immensely. Thoughts of getting to you flooded his mind.

The lights went out and emergency lights switched on. Bucky asked, "What the hell is this?"

The man started talking to him about his "real home" and pulled out a book; a book Bucky recognized. His throat tightened with anxiety as he blinked. 'No.', he thought, dread creeping in.

The man stood and started to read from the book; words Bucky knew all too well.

"No.", he whispered, his eyes closing as he shook his head slightly. This couldn't happen.

The man kept reading as Bucky thumped his head against the rest behind his head, squeezing his eyes shut again, his bottom lip quivering in fear.

"Stop.", he said, his voice low and pleading. 'Bella. I have to get to Bella.', he thought. He was afraid that if The Soldier took over that he would never see you again... that he would never be there to protect you again. The man kept reading as Bucky growled out, louder now, "Stop." The man ignored him and kept going, rounding his cell now. Bucky started to feel himself slipping away, panic sweeping over him. He had to get out and stop this man... before it was too late. He started growling and groaning to break free from his restraints. He yelled out, pulling against the clamp that held his metal arm, succeeding quickly. 'Bella!',, his head screamed. He yanked the other restraint off with the aid of his metal hand. 'I can't leave her alone.'

He started punching at the thick, reinforced glass on the door to his cell, growling and shouting... his control was slipping further away with each word and each blow of his fist. 'No! Bella!' He was fighting with everything he had now as what little was left of his mind shoved the memory of the night he saved you to the forefront, desperately clinging, trying not to forget. 'My life... My life...'

You had woken slowly, your vision taking a few moments to focus once you'd opened your eyes, your head throbbing.

You didn't recognize where you were as you laid on a small bed, covered with a tattered blanket, your head and shoulders propped up on a folded up sleeping bag. There was a dim light coming from a shaded floor lamp in the corner of the large room. Terror started to consume you and you tried to move, letting out a muffled cry against your pressed lips and surrendering to the stabbing pain in your side.

There was swift movement on the tiny sofa that was slightly in shadow across the room. A large figure stood and approached you slowly as your heart pounded. As he came closer, you could make out his face in the low light... the man from the diner.

You clenched your teeth together hard, frozen in fear, but your chest heaved shallow breaths, despite the pain that overwhelmed it, causing tears to well in your eyes. You were holding back sobs, your lips trembling. What was he going to do?! You blinked quickly, watching him. You couldn't use your useless ability to defend yourself; it was so weak that you wondered why you even had it.

You caught a glimpse of something shiny at the end of the long sleeve of his shirt on his left hand... then you realized it was his hand. He had a metal hand. Your panic scale slid upward a few notches, your breathing turning jagged, eyes wide.

"Ist in Ordnung.", his gruff voice soothed as he neared the bed, then crouched next to it to for you both to see each other better. "Du bist sicher." His dark hair hung straight, framing his chiseled features. His eyes were dark in the yellowish light as they searched your face.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and scratchy. "What-.", you paused. You were having a hard time getting which language you should be speaking to come out of your mouth, your voice hoarse. "I-- Wo bin ich?", you asked timidly.

His brows furrowed sympathetically at seeing you struggle a bit, "Do you speak English? Du sprichst Englisch?"

You blinked and nodded with short jerks.

His face softened a bit as his lips curled up, barely noticeable, his voice low and gravelly, "Okay. 'Cause my German's a little rusty. You're still in Romania. This is my apartment." You looked around for a beat as he went on, "How are you feeling?"

You looked in his eyes again, still feeling scared. But those eyes... there was something about them... something wild, yet controlled; strong, but gentle.

You started to tear up more, breaking eye contact, remembering what happened and not really trusting anything yet.

He wished he could do something to help you. 'Poor thing.', he thought. 'She must be so scared and confused.' "Are you hungry?", he tilted his head a little, "I've got some crackers with peanut butter." He got up and headed for the other side of the room to what looked like a kitchenette in the darkness that shrouded it. "I can get some things you like from the store tomorrow.", he offered, his back to you.

You watched as he moved; relaxed, but fluid and precise. He reached into a cupboard and pulled something out of it with his shiny hand, palming it. He then reached in the fridge for a bottle of water and made his way back to you. Once he was almost to the bed, you tried to relax a little and started to try to push yourself up slowly to sit, then hissed at the pain.

"Wait.", he ordered gently. He tossed the two cracker packages and water bottle on the foot of the bed, then grabbed the blanket you assumed he had been using off of the small sofa and came to your side again. He leaned over, wrapping his left arm around you cautiously, gingerly as your heart started pounding again. He pulled you forward slowly...

"Ah-hah-", you whimpered quietly.

He winced, "I'm so sorry.", he offered softly.

Your hand was splayed on his bicep for support as he put the blanket behind you, rearranging it, and the sleeping bag with his free hand. You could feel a coolness under his shirt with your hand. You guessed the metal must go all the way up his arm too. It made you a little nervous that he might hurt you with it; intentionally or not.

He leaned you back again, to sit up slightly; enough to eat and drink, but still lay your head back. "Better?", he asked quietly.

"Thank you."

Your meek voice tugged at his heart a bit as he smiled softly with closed lips. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached around to grab a package of crackers from his other side. He offered it to you with his left hand. You blinked down at it for a beat and he spoke up, "Oh. Sorry." He went to put it in his other hand to offer it.

"No...", you said. He paused before you went on, "It's okay."

He handed it to you and you took it, doing nothing with it yet. He then opened the bottle of water. You watched him, noting the cracking sound of the seal being broken before he twisted off the cap and handed it to you.

"Thank you." You took a moderate drink to soothe your throat and handed it back.

He was watching you as he screwed the cap back on, set it aside and reached for the other package for himself. As he started to open it, your actions caught his attention.

You lifted the cracker package slightly, still in your hand that had been in your lap. You looked at it as you squeezed the package with the fingertips of both hands, watching the cellophane puff up under the pressure. You held it for several long beats, watching it intently as Bucky's lips curved up deeply.

He knew what you were doing. You didn't know him; didn't know if he could be trusted yet. If he had tampered with the package, there could be even a pinhole, unseen to the eye, but the air would escape the package. "You're a smart cookie.", he offered sweetly. "I like that." For the first time, his lips actually parted a bit when he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly and it made you smile back a little and blush slightly, averting your gaze.

He couldn't help but think you looked and acted so precious.

You both ate and chewed in silence for a few moments.

For some reason that he couldn't understand, he just wanted to take care of you. He'd felt that way since the first time he noticed you walking around town; so small, delicate and pretty... even in your frumpy clothes. And that night in the diner; he was so close to you, his need growing stronger... to be near you, protect you. He was glad his gut told him to follow you that night... it was an instinct that couldn't have been more right. It warmed him that you were now letting him take care of you. He felt like he was fulfilling some mysterious duty he was destined to carry out.

He swallowed and took a deep breath, setting down his cracker package to his other side. His face became serious as his eyes demanded your undivided attention, his voice soft, "I want you to know that man will never hurt you again." His metal fingers came to rest tenderly on your scraped hand that held your crackers in your lap, his eyes locked intensely with your own as you blinked back a small wave of tears. He went on, "No one will ever hurt you again. I won't let them."

It was the last thing he thought, his heart and mind shouting in agony because he didn't get out before the darkness of The Soldier took over, trapping him in the nothingness of his own head... 'I won't let them.'
...
TRANSLATIONS: "Ist in Ordnung" = is okay, "Du bist sicher" = you are safe, "Wo bin ich?" = where am I?, "Du sprichst Englisch?" = You speak English?