Chapter Text
Pulling the string of her hood tight and ducking her head down and away from a passing family on the sidewalk, Sharon wondered why she agreed to meet in such a public place. She stuck out like a sore thumb, and she usually wasn't so anxious about it, but because he insisted this would be the closest place to pick her up that was far from a big major city, she was starting to fidget.
Because it was still public, and meeting at a park out of all places in the middle of the summer heat, wasn't much safer than the busy streets of Wyoming, which was where she suggested they rendezvous instead. This town was small, but humid, and Sharon frowned. Her heavy jacket and hood were causing beads of sweat to appear on her forehead.
Some people were staring now. Who the hell wore a jacket and a hat with a hood over it in the middle of July? Rolling her eyes, she unzipped the damn thing, tying the sleeves around her hips, and pulled off her hat.
Much better.
She kept her sunglasses on though. One could never be too certain, even if this town probably had less than one thousand residents, it was better to be safe than sorry. Sure, she wasn't as high profile as the list of Avengers who chose to follow Steve Rogers, but she was still wanted nonetheless.
Speaking of Steve, he was late.
Sharon tapped her finger on her knee. She'd been waiting for forty-five minutes now, sitting on a bench right smack in the middle of the two trees and the open field. There were a few couples who strolled hand-in-hand that probably wanted to take a seat, but Sharon made sure her bag was placed strategically by her side so that no one could sit.
When she received a phone call two days ago from an unknown number, Sharon considered not answering. Laying low in one of her safehouses in the middle of nowhere in South Dakota, was the last place she wanted to be, but she was carefully hidden with food and supplies to last the rest of the year. There were very few people who knew her particular line, and Nick Fury, and Natasha Romanov were one of those people.
Fury had been MIA for a while after the events in Sokovia. It made sense. After the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., there were multiple people who wanted to take over the hot seat, and while he still had close ties to Phil Coulson, she knew that Fury moved on to the next big thing. Whatever that thing was though, he'd chosen not to include her. Sharon should be offended. He once trusted her with all his secrets, picked her out of the many to look after his precious Captain America, and he respected her family. So where the fuck was he?
Natasha was likely the other person to call. Sharon heard she defected from Tony's group in Germany a few months ago, and to be frank, she expected it. When Sharon saw her at the CIA headquarters in Berlin, they shared a look. It was an exchange Sharon was familiar with, and it indicated that they were on opposing sides. Something similar happened once a long time ago, but she was glad they cleared the air. The Accords were a different matter though. Sharon was just pleased that the redhead came to her senses.
If she hadn't it wouldn't do Sharon any good. Natasha knew all her secure lines, and she knew the locations of her many safehouses. Having the Black Widow on her corner was always a plus. They always did work better together when they actually got along. So yes, the only other person who could have called would have been Natasha.
Except it turned out not to be Natasha.
Apparently, she had given her number to Steve Rogers because he requested it.
Sharon was surprised. After she drove off under that bridge, and Steve turned the other way, she didn't think she'd see him again. He didn't exactly ask her to accompany him and his team, and she didn't give him any form of contact to reach her.
When he phoned, they had a light conversation that was brief. He had just broken his team out of the Raft, was feeling anxious about staying in Wakanda, and he told her he wanted to see her. She responded that it wasn't a good idea to meet, but he insisted she join them. Then he followed up by telling her he wanted to see her again--a few times, actually.
She was flattered. But only slightly. His voice sounded so determined, yet she could sense he was unsure and nervous. It was so very Steve.
So she said yes.
It was stupid and reckless to meet out in the open. His face was plastered at every corner, and he was awful with disguises. Sharon could get by and to wherever he was easier, but he insisted he didn't want her traveling so far.
It was all the pretty things women loved to hear. If she didn't know him any better, she would have thought it was some sleazy way of picking her up. He did kiss her after all. Granted, it had been a few months, but his eyes were so genuine and hopeful. It was a long time coming.
She didn't know him well. Only that she played his neighbor once upon a time and decided that he was a nice man. He had to be with all the stories they told about his values and his morals. She was attracted to him, and in their short time and brief interactions, she knew he held some sort of crush too. His cheeks would pink whenever she ran into him in the hallway, she would think it was adorable, she would flirt, and he would entertain her.
Sharon wasn't sure what joining his team would mean. There was a lot of uncertainty in the air between the two of them after Germany and their kiss. She didn't know what to expect or hope for. Right now, she just needed to focus. He was late, and she was starting to think he ran into trouble.
Glancing down at her phone, her lips twisted uncomfortably. Should she phone? Was it wise? If Steve were in a compromised position, the last thing he needed was his phone to go off and alert those around him that he was sneaking by.
Grumbling to herself, she squeezed the phone in her hand, her eyes narrowed and glaring at the open grass and a few dog owners playing fetch. She continued glaring until the faint sound of light rattling brought her attention down. A pebble had hit her shoe.
She blinked, and another one came bouncing along the cement. Following the trail, she saw a figure by a few strings of trees hidden in the shadows.
Sighing, she grabbed her backpack and swung the strap over her shoulder. The shadow hid further in, and she balled her fists. Steve was careful, but he would find a way to make his presence known so that she wouldn't feel threatened. Whoever this was, it wasn't Steve Rogers.
Sharon slid her hand to her back pants pocket, where she knew she'd hidden a butterfly knife, and she prepared to strike with one quick and powerful sweep. It would be clean in the chest and right into the heart to ensure optimum damage. She'd done it in the past. There would be no screaming that would alert the public. It was a fatal blow.
Her arm swung out, but instead of her knife meeting soft human flesh, there was a screech, and metal hit metal.
Her eyes widened, because her knife had broken clean off, and James Barnes was standing before her, his familiar, metal hand stretched out to deflect her attack, and he was sporting a very displeased look on his face.
Her eyes hardend. "You're not Steve."
"Steve's not coming," he said, his jaw locked. "He sent me to retrieve you."
Sharon was frozen. The last time she'd seen Barnes he was sitting on the back of a beetle, barely fitting in the back seat in Germany. He looked strained then, still confused, but mostly he was tense. And it wasn't just because the vehicle was tiny. Now he looked.. well, he looked just as tense, but it was likely because she attacked him.
What was he doing here? And why did Steve not come?
"There'll be time for questions later," he told her. "Right now, we need to move."
He didn't give her the time to respond, but he stalked off through the trees, and she stood unmoving and staring at his back until the distance between them became too stretched out. She trudged on ahead, the grip on the strap of her bag tight.
His hair was longer and tied back, and he kept his face down and hidden behind his cap. Was this what they were reduced to? Because she had a cap on too, and Steve and Sam were very supportive of the same head wear.
He strolled to a vehicle parked in a hidden driveway and away from the main park's lot, and Sharon paused with her hand on the handle of the door. He'd already slipped into the driver's seat, and the engine roared. He turned his head, his eyes narrowing at her.
"Get in."
She did, but not because he told her to. She was worried about Steve. It wasn't like him to not follow through after their phone call. He was even texting her that morning, and she nearly fell all over herself when he told her he was looking forward to seeing her.
Then he went along and sent Barnes? What in the hell was going on?
As soon as she sat and the door shut beside her, the car was moving, and Sharon tightened her hold around her bag.
"Are you going to tell me what happened to Steve?" she asked, hoping she sounded threatening enough. He may be sane now, and Steve trusted him wholeheartedly, but it didn't mean he couldn't fall off the rails again.
He kept his eyes on the road, his one hand at twelve o'clock on the steering wheel. "He got caught up and had to fly to Wakanda. There's a rendezvous point a few days drive from here. They'll meet us there."
"You drove here?" She frowned.
She saw him raise his eyebrows. "We were nearby, but like I said, he got called away."
Sharon sucked in a breath. He probably heard her, but she didn't care. She didn't know him, and while he hadn't blown up the senate, he still attacked one of the best divisions of the CIA with ease, and threw her down in a matter of seconds.
She snuck a look, but his good arm was outstretched with his hand still on the wheel. The other, the one she was more worried about, was nearly tucked on the other side of him and out of view. She was thankful. She had a gun in her bag, but she'd seen him maneuver that metal arm around before, flinging bullets back without care. She wouldn't stand a chance.
He inclined his head, sensing her distress. "So you got Robin instead," he started, and she blinked. "Steve should call when he arrives in Wakanda, if that consoles you."
"It's just strange that he'd send you and not Sam."
Maybe she said that too quickly. It was the truth though. She knew Sam better, and she would feel more at ease with him. She didn't know Barnes, and he didn't know her. What was Steve thinking?
"They needed Sam for medical," he said.
Sharon's brows furrowed. "Was someone injured?"
"I hope not."
That last part came out softly, and she snuck another look at him. His shoulders were more relaxed now, but it was hard to tell. His traps were far too lean and big for her to judge properly.
They fell into silence, and Sharon shrunk back into her seat, backpack clutched and pressed against her chest. The windows were rolled down and the breeze that blew in was kissing her face just the right way that her eyes were starting to slip shut. She caught herself a few times, her head bobbing and snapping back up.
"You can sleep if you want."
Her eyes flew open, and she stared point blank at the side of his face. He was shrugging off his jacket, and fiddling with the seat belt all at once. Her grip tightened on the zipper of her bag. Sharon wondered how fast she could move to grab her gun before he could swing that arm of his out to strangle her.
"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Now, sleep."
Sharon scoffed. "You expect me to sleep after that low key threat?"
This time he angled his face to give her a hard stare. "I wasn't threatening you." He frowned. "Are you always this difficult?"
"Excuse me?" Sharon glared again.
He turned his attention back to the road. "Believe me. This is the last place I want to be."
"I could have waited," she told him. "To meet another day."
"Steve insisted."
Sharon shook her head in disbelief and set her glare to the open window. "He should have told me himself."
He let out a sound that was a mixture of a scoff and a light laugh. "Who knows what's going on in that kid's head."
"Did you just call Steve a kid?" Her eyebrows shot up.
A lopsided grin appeared on his face, and Sharon found it strange that out of all the people she thought she'd ever be on a road trip with, it had to be the Winter Soldier. James Barnes, a Hydra assassin, and ex-Sergeant of the U.S. military, was chuckling to himself, wearing a baseball cap, driving a beat-up old pick-up, and looking like your average Joe.
"I'm still older than him," he said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Call it a force of habit."
Sharon's lips twisted. "You two were close."
She wasn't sure if it was a question or just a comment. She read their files before. Aunt Peggy also sometimes told stories of the friendship between Steve Rogers and James Barnes, so she already knew the answer, but she didn't know Steve well enough, and she certainly didn't trust Barnes.
"I suppose," he said.
"You wouldn't be running a favor for him if you still weren't," she pointed out.
"A favor," he started. "Steve doesn't need to ask for favors."
Sharon saw his jaw lock. It was tight, and for a moment she racked her brain wondering if what she said offended him. It was a comment. The truth, really. Steve sacrificed a lot for him, fought off government officials, snuck him out of the country.. and now Captain America was no more.
The Accords hadn't started with Barnes, but his involvement added fuel to the already growing tension between Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. She knew that. He knew that. Hell, everyone knew that.
"Is it wise to travel out in the open?"
It was a good question. He was still wanted. Stark wanted his head on a platter, and the world knew about the Winter Soldier. It was strange that Steve sent him. His disguise wasn't convincing. Maybe to the small town they just left, but certainly not in bigger and more populated cities.
He cocked his head to one side. "I blend in more than you think," he said.
"The CIA has satellites that can lock on to your face. They'll know where you've been, what you're doing, and who you're meeting," Sharon told him.
"We got that taken care of," he said like he was talking about the weather.
Sharon raised her brows. Just like that? "Oh? And how may I ask, are you doing that?" It may have come off more sarcastic than she'd like, but he was irritating her with his dismissive tone.
He scoffed, almost like he was realizing something.
"What?" she asked, shooting him a quick glare.
He shook his head. "Didn't peg you to be his type."
Sharon gaped. "Excuse me?"
"Then again, he won't admit it, but Steve was never into the sweet type."
Her glare intensified. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He grinned this time. "Definitely not the sweet type."
Sharon scoffed and turned her head back to the window.
Out of all the days, out of all the people that she would be glad or not glad to see after living and hiding alone for months, she had to be stuck with James Barnes. And judging by his sardonic behavior, he was nothing like it said on his file.
Sweet, her ass.
She fell asleep a good hour after their last words to each other, and Bucky scratched the side of his temple. He was thankful when the talking stopped. He wasn't much for words these days, and a conversation with Steve's girl probably wasn't the best way to start practicing.
Bucky didn't know much about her. Steve didn't open up much, but he supposed he liked her enough to lay one on her. This was the same girl, right? It had been a few months, and he was in cryosleep for a good month, but he was certain she was the same girl they briefly met in Germany.
He only caught a glimpse of her then. A pretty blonde. The type he usually went for, or the type he used to go for. Not the attitude though. He remembered the women from his time, and they were sweet little things, usually shy with long lashes, and a nice bright lip.
He never knew Steve had a type before Peggy. It was almost strange watching his friend fall all over himself over a woman who was so opinionated. He hadn't known her well. He didn't have the time before he fell off that train, but she had been beautiful in her youth. Beautiful, and rather bold.
No, he wasn't surprised that Steve saw the same in Sharon. Whether he admitted it or not, Steve liked strong women. He supposed this was because he had never been physically strong himself growing up. Still though, finding someone who his friend held genuine interest in was a plus. Steve deserved to be happy, and he needed someone to protect and care for in that way.
Bucky quickly glanced at her sleeping head bobbing slightly from the uneven pavement as they drove, and he sighed. Steve trusted him to get Sharon to safety. It was a long drive to the safehouse, and they would need to stop at several locations to switch vehicles.
His time as the Winter Soldier was filled with painful memories that he was still learning to live with, but he learned a thing or two about survival, not that his brainwashed counterpart cared about living. It was always about finishing the mission, ensuring that the target was eliminated even if that meant his own demise. He fought in countless battles and won, he infiltrated bases, moved during the night undetected, and he really was really the best person to get Sharon from point A to point B with the least amount of notice.
She just had to cooperate with him.
They stopped off an exit on the highway to a small town he hadn't heard of. It was better that way. The lesser known areas were much safer, and the people there were less likely to ask questions.
The truck came to a rigid stop outside the parking lot of the motel, and Sharon jerked awake, alert, like a deer caught in headlights. She sprang up, eyes wide, her hand in her backpack and was in the process of bringing her gun out.
He gave her a pointed look. "Can you please try to blend in?"
She blinked at him several times, and her shoulders slumped. The bag was zipped back up, and she took in their surroundings.
"Where are we?"
"Don't know," he muttered. "I don't remember the name on the sign, but it's better this way. It just means it's a close knit town."
He pulled the sleeve down on his left arm and slipped on a glove. She was watching him, but she didn't speak. Bucky sighed, swinging the door of the truck open, and she followed. He took the first few steps up the porch and to the main entrance and paused. Resisting the urge to sigh again, he turned to face her.
"Can you please act like I'm not holding you hostage? We'll be less suspicious that way," he told her.
Sharon swung the strap of her bag around her shoulder. "I'm not acting in any way," she mumbled. "You're not exactly blending in either. You look just like the picture on the milk carton."
This time, he did sigh, and he shook his head and pushed open the door. There was an elderly woman by the desk with curly, white hair who smiled at them as they neared.
"Why, hello, dears," she said, and she played with her glasses, bringing it forward. "You two looking for a place to stay the night?"
Bucky nodded, hoping his smile was genuine enough. "Yes, please. Just one room." He felt Sharon stiffen beside him, and he ignored her. "Preferably one on the ground floor.
"Oh, of course." The woman smiled cheerfully, and fiddled with the notebook on her desk. "Our rooms are very comfortable, and we have a diner just around the corner. It's open twenty-four hours, you know. We get a lot of travellers off the freeway, and it's good for business."
Bucky let his cheek dimple, and he slid some bills on the table. The woman handed him the keys. "There you go, room 2, right on the ground level." She adjusted her glasses again. "Why, that's a pretty lady you got there. You two been married long?"
"Just over a year," he answered quickly.
He could tell Sharon wanted to roll her eyes, but she only smiled sweetly, and her hand came up to pat his bicep.
"But it feels just like yesterday," she added, and she flashed him her pearly whites.
Bucky was grateful she knew to play along. She was a spy after all, or at least, that's what he gathered from Steve.
The woman looked delighted and she clapped her hands together. "Oh, well, I hope you two enjoy your stay."
The minute the door closed behind them to their room, Sharon made a beeline for the washroom, and he shook his head, letting his duffle bag drop to the floor. There was one queen sized bed and a dusty old loveseat by the door.
Wonderful.
If anything, he preferred the floor anyway, but Sharon didn't need to know that.
It was early into the evening, but he was already peeking through the blinds, scouting out the other vehicles parked. He got a look at the list the old woman had on the table, and there were a few visitors who were checking out in a few days. It was a good thing. It meant he had plenty of cars to select from. He just needed to ensure there were no cameras nearby, and they could leave in the early morning before the sun rose.
The door to the washroom squeaked open, and Sharon stepped out. She'd changed to a simple beater and jeans, and she was tying her hair up into a messy ponytail.
She squinted her eyes at him. "Something on my face?"
What was wrong with this woman? He'd been nothing but nice to her, was risking himself to get her to safety, and she was glowering at him. In return, he rolled his eyes slowly, announcing his annoyance clearly.
"There's food and water," he told her, and he gave her his back before he could see the frown on her face. He unzipped his duffle bag and brought out some sandwiches and tossed the bottle of water over his shoulder.
There was grumbling behind him, but he assumed she caught it since nothing fell to the floor. He settled himself on the couch and unwrapped the wax paper before digging into the stale bread. He focused on anything and everything but her.
She stared at her half of the club sandwich on the tiny, crooked coffee table for a long while, but eventually she went for it and sat herself on the bed.
They ate in silence until she finally spoke.
"Is it safe to reach out to Steve?" she asked.
Bucky chewed slowly. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure. When they received the distress call from Wakanda, Steve reacted fast, making plans, speaking to him about grabbing Sharon, and he and Sam took the jet to Wakanda. He wasn't happy about it. T'Challa was a friend, and he owed him a lot, so he should be there, but Steve didn't trust anyone else. He hadn't so much as pleaded, but he did. It was one look, and Bucky sighed, agreeing.
Sharon helped them, even if his memory was a little foggy about all of it, so all-in-all, he also owed her. The reason she was in this situation was because she chose to help them, or really, she chose to help Steve. Sam never let that one slip through.
"Don't know," he mumbled.
"But when he arrives in Wakanda, we should be able to reach him if he doesn't call," Sharon said.
He didn't know that either. Okoye's message was garbled, but panicked enough. There was something about a war, an overthrowing of the throne, and bits and pieces they couldn't make out. If Steve had arrived in Wakanda and there was trouble, he certainly wouldn't have the time to pick up a phone call.
"Don't know," he said again, and he took a swig of his water.
"Is there anything you can actually tell me?"
Bucky huffed a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees, and his eyebrows furrowed. "You know, I thought you were a lot nicer."
Sharon glared at him. "And they said you were a gentleman in your profile, but I guess there's a lot of exaggeration in that too."
He hummed. He supposed he had been. He'd always been fond of women, but that was then, and now.. He couldn't even remember the last time he thought about a woman apart from today. And this was not the same type of feeling he expected.
She annoyed him.
Not that he would admit that out loud. He was sure she was nice, or nicer to other people who weren't him. Steve wouldn't have looked twice at her if she didn't share his values.
So what the hell was her problem?
"You always believe what's written on someone's file?" he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. "It's a start. Weren't you?" she asked, reminding him of her original question.
He raised his eyebrows. "I'm not unpleasant to women."
She fell silent, and he watched carefully for an eye roll, but she only unzipped her backpack and took out her laptop. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and he looked on curiously.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Just received a message from an old friend," she mumbled, tapping away on the keyboard.
"Is your line secure?"
She tapped on the internet stick plugged into the USB port. "I modified it so that it jumps IP addresses every minute. Nearly impossible to track, and messages are deleted based on a timer."
He raised his eyebrows again. "I have no idea what all that means."
Sharon actually chuckled. "And I thought you were older and wiser than Steve."
Bucky huffed a light laugh, nodding his head. "I'll let you know which one of us scores higher. He's always been more interested in technology than I have."
"Oh?" She was looking at him now.
He shrugged a shoulder. "He was more determined to learn things on his own. He's kind of stubborn that way," he said. "I was pretty easy going. Didn't have many goals until I enlisted."
She nodded her head slowly, and he could tell she was trying to remember the line items on his file.
"Did you always want to become a soldier?"
The question stumped him. Had he? It had been so long he didn't really remember anymore. The war was endless, and it became everyone's goal at one point. He was a fit, young man, healthy and agile, and he was a sharp shooter. They wanted him the day he registered, but had he always wanted to fight? He wasn't sure. No one really had a choice then.
"Can't say I remember," he said, pressing his lips together. "Who wanted to fight during a war? I don't know if anyone really did."
"Steve did," she said.
Bucky nodded, smiling at the memory. "Like I said, he was stubborn. But if there was no war.. I figure Steve would have continued on in art school." He saw her lower her eyes. "So I don't know the answer to your question. I never lived that life."
"You knew what Steve would've done, but not you?"
She actually looked curious, and it occurred to him that they were actually having a conversation. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Why are you so curious?" he asked.
She went back to glaring. So much for pleasantries.
"Forget it."
She started tapping on her keyboard again, and Bucky sighed, bringing himself to his feet.
"Where are you going?" She didn't bother looking up.
He resisted the urge to sigh. He was doing that a lot lately. "Scouting the area," he mumbled, and he turned the knob and shut the door behind him.
The cars parked in the lot were family vehicles, mostly sedans and some SUVs, and Bucky quickly picked one for their getaway in the morning. He circled only once to not draw attention, and he proceeded down the path around the motel.
It was quiet, save for the diner that was connected to the back of the building. There were a few people seated by the window. Families again, laughing and having their meal together.
His brows furrowed. How many families had he killed along the way in the years he was under Hydra? There were brief flashes that he would get, but mostly they appeared in his dreams. They were all faces he didn't recognize. Some were soldiers, he was certain of that, but there were also civilian casualties, women, men, children.. They all screamed at him.
He tore his eyes away, digging his hands in his pockets. There was no message from Steve, and nothing from Sam. Wakanda was silent too. He knew, because Shuri contacted him frequently on his progress.
Since the princess developed a cure for his trigger in a very short time, he was pulled from cryosleep much earlier than he anticipated. She told him she found a permanent solution, and Steve was thrilled. Truthfully though, Bucky felt safer knowing that he was in a pod and away from anyone or anything he could possibly harm. He still thought that way.
Joining Steve and his team wasn't supposed to be in the cards. He originally planned on staying in Wakanda, closer to the people he knew had the technology to help in the event he flew off the rails again, but the longer he dwelled in that straw hut and away from the main city, the more Shuri and Steve were convinced it wasn't good for him and his recovery.
There was a lot he had to sort through. Most of it was the fear and guilt that tore through him every waking second. It was a never ending loop. His stomach clenched whenever the faces of the people he hurt came to mind, and then the screaming would start and.. If he were in public and it started, he would try his best to let it pass, often mastering the best mask imaginable, but when he was alone, the tightness in his chest worsened, and sometimes he would retch.
It was harder to hide when he was with Steve and Sam, thus he preferred the sanctuary that was his hut in the open fields of Wakanda.
But he was trying.
He didn't know how to improve, but living was a start. Perhaps this was what he needed as a distraction. Accompanying Sharon to safety would hopefully be easy, granted she followed without giving him a hard time, and it was a good opportunity to be away from Steve.
He loved his friend like a brother, that he couldn't deny, but Steve had the tendency to smother him. The worried looks were horrible enough, but he was also reminded every day that Steve built a life for himself the past few years that he was happy with. And Bucky couldn't help but feel he was the reason that life had changed. It was different for Steve now. He'd lost everything he worked so hard for. The people he fought for and looked to protect now saw him as a fugitive. He didn't deserve that. Steve didn't deserve any of it, and he certainly didn't deserve to lose his shield in the way that he did.
It wasn't just Steve too. Sam, Wanda, T'Challa, and Sharon's lives were altered because of his actions. In a way, Sharon's cold demeanor was rewarding. He didn't deserve the kindness they showed him. He didn't deserve anything at all.
When he returned to the room, Sharon was fast asleep and the sun had come down. Her hair was damp and curled around her shoulders. When he shut the door behind him, her head shot up in alarm. There were a few seconds where he didn't think she recognized him, but she sighed, slumped back into the bed, and turned to face the other direction.
Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, and he headed to the washroom to take a quick shower. There was only one towel, and it was already damp, indicating that Sharon had been in to wash herself.
When he finished, he pondered, contemplating on taking the couch or laying on the floor. Sharon made room for him on the bed. No doubt she didn't know what to think about spending the night with a complete stranger. He hadn't even thought about how she felt about it. He wasn't one for beds to begin with. He probably should have told her that though.
The floor was cold, and he folded his jacket and let it lay under his head. Sharon's breathing was deeper now, and he pressed his lips together, letting his eyes fall on the cracked ceiling.
These were the times he dreaded the most. Sleep was something that came easily for some, but for him it was.. an experience. Bucky wished he didn't need to sleep at all, because sleep was out of his control, and the faces and the screaming he would see and hear..
Steve told him that it was bad, and he knew too of course. He would jerk awake, often in a cold sweat, disoriented, in tears, and just downright devastated. He didn't know Sharon, and he didn't know how she would react. Being alone with the Winter Soldier was bad enough, but there were times he'd wake from a particularly awful nightmare and chuck the nearest thing next to him against the wall.
Perhaps it would scare her out of her slumber and she'd shoot him. That would solve things.
But he couldn't think that way. He made the mistake of mentioning it to Steve one time, and in his usual Steve fashion, he was watched like a hawk for days. Did he mean it? Perhaps. Would it be fair to Steve and all he had to give up? Bucky didn't know. He told Steve he'd try, because he wanted to right his wrongs. He just wasn't sure how to start.
Running a hand down his face, he kept his eyes open. For tonight he'd give her the peace she needed and a good night's rest, and he in turn, would stare at the crumbled looking ceiling, trying to fight down the screaming he knew would be coming for him soon.
In the morning they'd return to the road, and that's what he needed to concentrate on. Steve was relying on him to get Sharon back to him. He owed Steve a lot, and if there was one thing Bucky knew he needed to do, it was to find some way to repay his childhood friend.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.