Title: New Ends, New Beginnings

Summary: Elizabeth Banks was ordinary. The most exciting part about her life was her schooling in nursing. However, that changes when a man she saw on the news saves her. Along the way, she faces horrors beyond her imagination. Can she and this new man make it through? Or will they crash and burn? Bucky/OC

Rating by chapter: T (Language)

Song for this chapter: Surprisingly, Twenty One Pilots' Album Blurryface was on repeat for this one. Check it out.

Disclaimer: I do not own ANYTHING. This includes Marvel comics and movies mentioned.

A/N: Pay close attention to the second part of the chapter. Notice the grammar used

Liz's first step was getting him to sit. After she took the ice from his hand, she gently pushed him towards the bed. He refused to sit, even when she sat on the small recliner behind her. Eventually, she gave up and put the ice on her throat, nearly crying out when she put just a little amount of pressure on it.

She swallowed painfully. "Bucky," She said again, this time nearly sounding commanding. She made sure to soften her tone. "You're making me nervous. Sit. I promise nothing is going to happen."

The nervous part seemed to have done it. He sat down on the bed, looking lost. "I'm sor-"

She cut him off instantly. "Don't be." She coldly interrupted. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have touched you."

Her looked even more lost. "How could you say that?" He looked down. "I did that to you."

"This?" She asked, peeling away the ice. She didn't dare move when he looked up. "A mere flesh wound." She joked, quoting Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

"How could you say that?" He repeated, getting frustrated. "Look at you! You can barely talk!"

Well, he wasn't wrong. She would have a wicked sore throat for days. "I can talk because you didn't kill me." She gave him a gentle smile. "You stopped, Bucky. That's the important part. It's the first step to healing."

He shook his head. "It doesn't feel like healing." He muttered.

"Well, Bud," She said, putting the ice back on the injury. "You'll get there."

It was silent. She needed for a moment. She knew she looked composed, she was trained to do that - but she felt like a wreck. She had thoughts about him, work, her life, her life choices, her mom and dad… you name it, it was on her mind. She needed quite. She needed time to digest everything.

Eventually, she had to break the silence. It was killing her more than her throat. "How about you take a shower?" She suggested, "You'll feel better."

He continued to look frustrated. "Why are you not angry at me."

She shrugged. "Nothing to be angry at."

He opened his mouth, but she stopped him with a wave of her hand. "Let me finish."

"Yeah," She said, "It hurts. Actually, I'm pretty sure as soon as you're not in sight I'm gonna ball my eyes out, but I'm alive. Having a nightmare is scary as fuck. I get it. And with the horrors you went through, I'm sure you have plenty of things to have nightmares about."

She paused, trying to find the right words.

"There's strength in stopping yourself." She muttered. He looked to be hanging on her every word. "You have strength, Bucky. More so than me. Yeah, it was scary, I had my will written in my head and everything, but it's okay, because you stopped. You realized it wasn't real. You did that all on your own. That's incredible. And it means that it will get better as time goes on. And you wanna know what's even better?"

He nodded, leaning closer to her.

"You're alive. You're still here… and you get to have a nice relaxing shower after the hell you've been through."

She smiled widely at him. "So go take a goddamn shower before I force you in there."

He slowly got up. "Thank you."

She smiled again. "There's nothing to thank me for."

He shook his head. "There's everything to thank you for." With that, he slowly walked towards the bathroom and quietly shut the door.

Almost as if she was a dream, she moved to the living room and sat down on the couch, the ice still held up to the neck. When she heard the shower come on, she let the tears escape from her eyes. God, she had almost died. She almost lost her entire life because she was helping one assassin who had killed a lot of people.

But he was a good person. It was in there. Hell, it was there when she was talking to him. She wiped away the tears that were falling down her face. She could be strong for him. She could. She had too. She could cry later.

She slowly took the water from the table and drank a small sip. The cold was refreshing, but the pressure it created made her cough. He throat was way too swollen. She need to take something.

Wait, Bucky needed clothes. His were in tatters. Thankfully, she broke up with a guy only a month ago and she still had some of his clothes. She was thankful that he was big.

She grabbed the clothes from the drawer and put them on the ground at the door. She about to shout to him that they were there, but she just didn't have the energy to do it.

Everything became blurry and she stumbled to her bed. She fell, and her eyes fell shut with her.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Bucky hadn't had a shower in years. At least, not one that felt this good. The burning hot water felt good on his tense muscles and it was nice to know that no one was going to rush him.

But something else lingered behind his happiness. He felt it constantly. The orders that rang through his head never stopped.

Mission report. Mission report. Mission report, Soldier!

He growled and brought has hand to his eyes, rubbing them. No one was there. He wasn't the Soldier. He was Bucky Barnes. Steve Roger's friend. He was no longer the Winter Soldier. He could do this.

His resolve stumbled when he thought of Liz. He didn't understand her… compassion. She never faltered and was always nice. Her constant talking kept him grounded.

And it did that to her. The Winter Soldier hurt someone innocent again. something that he thought it would never do again.

It growled in the depth of it's mind, angry that he was winning. It was not weak, it was a killing machine. It had no thoughts.

He had thoughts of Liz.

She was stunning. Her short brown hair seemed to glow every time she moved, and her eyes held fire that he found irresistible.

How she could continue to be kind to someone like him was an enigma. When he felt the water begin to get cold, he shut it off.

He avoided the mirror, knowing that he wasn't quite ready to face that. He began to pull on his clothes quickly and opened the door.

He stopped when he felt something beneath him. To his surprise, it was clothes. Not only that, they were clean clothes that were roughly his size. Without realizing it, a small smile had begun to form. With a soft growl, it stopped it. However, it - he was grateful that he would no longer have wear rags. He walked back into the bathroom to change.

The clothes were comfortable and easy to move him, something that satisfied the old him. It also made him question why she would have such clothes. Was she with someone?

An anger that he couldn't describe rose up in him - it. It wanted her all to itself. It was valuable. It could heal him. He winced suddenly, fighting the thoughts. She wasn't just valuable. She was kind, caring, patient; a friend. He put his hand to his eyes, rubbing them once he still have friends? Could he trust her?

He shook his head. He didn't deserve friends. It didn't need them. He rushed out of the bathroom and went back into the bedroom, searching for her. When he spotted her, another soft smile appeared on his face.

She was asleep on the bed, nearly taking up the whole thing. Her leg was dangling uselessly off it. A sudden image struck him: a tiny blond punk, lying down on a mattress, his arm hanging off the side of the bed. He moved towards him, a soft smile on his face, a put the arm back on the bed. He placed the glass of water by desk and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Click. He was back in reality. His eyes were still slammed shut, the images still fresh in his mind. Why? Why did that useless memory appear? What did he gain from that?

"His friendship." His mind answered. The man on the bridge, blue eyes. "You're my friend."

He growled, once again bring his hand to his eyes. He was in the present. Liz was who was here. Not- not- not-

The man on the bridge.

He banished the thoughts. Without thinking, he moved towards her, picking up her leg and gently putting it on the bed. This close, he could clearly see the damage he had done to her. It was bad. It was already turning a harsh shade of purple and it looked like she had trouble breathing.

A familiar feeling consumed him. He forgot the word to it a long time ago, but it continuously ate at him. It felt like his heart was being torn apart. How could he do this to her? Besides that, but how could he forget safety measures? He didn't have a reliable weapon, nor did he look at every nook and cranny of the house. They could be watching.

It needed to scope out the house; determine every possible escape route and go from there. He needed to find a weapon and leave.

He shook his head. He had been on the run for three weeks now. There was no way for Hydra to track him. They would have found him already. He was safe… for now.

He looked down once again. Liz's breathing had evened out and she seemed to be in a deep slumber. It could kill her right now and be rid of the problem. There would be no loose ends to tell Hydra where he was.

He groaned and sat down, running his hands through his hair. He could not-would not let himself do anything to harm her. She didn't deserve any pain. However, there was one thing he needed to fix.

Quietly, he made his way out of the bedroom and began exploring. He learned quickly that the apartment was well stocked with food. The kitchen was used pretty often by the looks of the pans. The next fact gained was that she liked to read. Books were everywhere, including the kitchen cabinets.

There were two doors. The front and side door. The side door was concealed by the fence. Probably the best option for escape besides the bedroom window.

When he opened the closet, something silver caught his attention. It was metal box all the way up on the top shelf. The next fact was that she owned a gun. It was a Springfield XD-S. Surprised, he opened the clip to find it fully loaded. Carefully, he put it back into the box and put it exactly as he found it. It was good to know.

However, why would she have such a weapon? What made her feel like it was necessary?

These were things to assess in the morning.

For now, he got what he wanted. He determined the safest route out of the house, and even found a decent weapon. With sleep long forgotten, he decided to stay up and keep guard.

Not for her, of course. Just to make sure no one found him - them - it.

Eventually, he hoped, it would only be him...

Them.

A/N: I'm not sure why the chapters keep getting smaller haha. Actually, I do, but if I were to put the next 'scene' in, it would be ridiculously long.

Anyway, thoughts everyone? How did Liz handle the situation? What about Bucky? Dang, he has a lot of stuff on his mind, huh? Any reviews on Bucky's thoughts? And Liz owning a gun…? Hm.

Thanks for reading!

Reviews feed the muse!