He tossed and turned in his bed for quite possibly the millionth time that night, his body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. The door to his bedroom was slightly ajar. Funny, he didn't remember leaving it open… the thin band of blinding yellow light grew wider until a figure appeared in the doorway. "James," she called softly.

"Nat?" He sat up until she joined him in between the sheets. "You called me James."

She frowned. "Well, that's your name, isn't it?"

"You called me Bucky yesterday."

"And you called me sweetheart," she said, making a face. "We're even."

"What are you doing here?"

"It's late. I'm tired." She lay down next to him. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"I haven't slept in three weeks," he admitted. "Not since you were lost."

She smoothed his hair back. "Sssh. It's okay. I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close to make sure she was real.

"Eeew, you're all sweaty," she complained. "You need a shower."

He grinned mischievously. "Only if you join me."

"But I'm tired," she whined.

"Oh… I'm sure I can think of a few ways to wake you up long enough," he said, putting his mouth next to her ear….

He awoke with a start, punching the wall next him. The plaster cracked under his metal knuckles and he cursed. He rose from the bed, pulled on a pair of pants from the floor and silently made his way out the door to the elevator.

It had become more than clear to him that he wasn't going to get any sleep that night, just like all the other nights, so he made his way down to the training room to vent his frustrations in the most…. acceptable way he knew how.

He was on his third punching bag when he realized that he wasn't alone. "How long have you been standing there?"

She smiled. "Awhile."

"I'm sorry. Am I intruding on your time?"

She shook her head. "It's two-thirty in the morning. I wouldn't book the room this late."

He nodded. "Alright then."

"Don't stop on my account. I like watching you."

He raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out if she was flirting with him or not. "Really? And why's that?"

She batted her eyelashes at him. "I find you… fascinating."

He nodded. "Well, are you going to just stand there watching me all morning? Or do you want to have a go?"

She grinned. "I was hoping you were in the mood for a training partner."

He held his hands in the air. "You take the first shot."

She rounded a kick, which he barely dodged, her long leg nearly brushing his shoulder. He retaliated with his metal fist, which she easily blocked. "You're holding back," she observed. "Don't."

The next time he came at her, he had her hands pinned down to her sides. "So are you," he whispered.

She looked up at him and he pulled back slightly, realizing how close her face was to his. "You're transparent," she said. "Where's the Winter Soldier I've heard so much about?"

He blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on. I see it in your eyes. The quiet longing." She raised her fingers to his face, brushing his cheek and sliding her hand behind his ear. "The slight increase of beats in the pulse in your neck." She slid her hand across his collar bone. "The heaviness in your breath… Do I make you nervous?"

He caught her hand before she could slide it down his chest. "You're playing with me," he said evenly. "Darling, I was the king of mind games. I'm not going to fall for any of your tricks."

She smiled innocently. "No tricks… I was simply observing the effect I have on you, James."

He grinned. "That's not gonna- wait… what did you call me?" He froze with her hand still in his, this time the change in his breathing was obvious.

Her eyes narrowed. "I said James. That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, it is."