Light was creeping through the curtains in Lucy's bedroom, she rolled over searching for another pillow to block her vision from the intruder. She immediately sat up remembering that a man – Bucky – in her shack had her other pillow. She glanced at the analogue clocked and pouted at the results that displayed 6.45am.
She pushed herself from her bed and shuffled to the bathroom for a quick shower to wake her up for the day.
She noticed that she still wore the same clothes she had on yesterday. She was exhausted when she got back from the shack, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
After she finished the shower, she quickly put on a plain blue shirt, and jeans. She stepped over to the mirror and tied her hair in the usual boring pony tail and put on her silver watch. After that, she walked to the kitchen and began to cook bacon, eggs and toast for her and Bucky.
As she cooked, she thought about the peculiar events the previous day. She was struggling to get over the concept of the metal arm. How did it work, what did it do, many questions ran through her head that she doubt she'd ever get the answers to. She desperately wanted to know more about him, even though his face displayed torture, everything else about him was screaming dangerous.
She remembered the last thing Bucky said to her before she left the shack, he thanked her, genuinely. Dangerous men could never be capable of gratitude, even if their life depended on it. At heart, she didn't think Bucky was dangerous, there was more to him than what the eye could see.
When the food was finished cooking, she separated them evenly into two containers and then packed them in her backpack. When turned to the fridge to grab more bottles of water, she saw the unopened bottle of tropical juice in the door of her fridge. She decided to pack it, and two plastic cups.
When she was finished packing, she put on her backpack, grabbed her keys and left again for the shack. As she walked, she thought of nice, non invasive ways to ask about Bucky's life. She wasn't exactly good at socialising, she was a loner, the only friend she had was an old man that she looked after. She looked at her watch, it was 8 am already, she had to be back home by 9.30.
She decided to pack her art book, incase she needed to fill in time of quiet company.
Bucky disturbed awake when the sun crept through the boards on the windows. He didn't sleep well during the night, he kept waking from the combination of pain and every little sound.
When he was awake, he kept his eyes trained on the opposite wall. He needed to keep his mind distracted, he didn't want to fall victim to his memories. Whenever he could feel the tension rising, he would use his metal arm to make it go away. Physical pain was the only thing to successfully keep away the memories.
A faint knock sounded at the door, "It's me Lucy, can I come in?" she asked.
"Yes," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. Lucy slowly stepped inside letting in a gush of wind with her. The feint smell from the pillow last night suddenly dominated the room. It was soothing, however intoxicating.
Lucy studied Bucky, he had dark patches under his eyes meaning he didn't sleep very well. She slowly walked over and crouched beside him. Her eyes fell to the two unopened bottles of water.
"I brought breakfast, and I brought some juice," she said cheerily as she pulled out the food from her bag. She placed a cup in front of Bucky, and poured some juice. She then brought out his food, and began to cut it into bite sized pieces.
Bucky watched her every movement. He studied her up and down, she had loose red hair tied into a pony tail that fell on her right shoulder. She was quite thin, with random bits of muscle on her here and there.
After Lucy cut Bucky's food, she placed the fork on his container and shuffled against a wall to eat hers. Thankfully, the food wasn't cold, it still had some remains of warmth. Lucy recited the many different questions she thought of when she came to the shack, but she didn't have the confidence to ask any of them. She decided to bite the bullet and ask him…
"So, what's your story?" she asked, immediately regretting it. She had come up with alternate polite ways to ask him, but instead asked in the most abrupt way possible.
Bucky held the fork with a small piece of bacon on it, and twirled it above the container. "I don't know," he finally mumbled.
Lucy didn't expect him to speak at all, when he did, his response was even more surprising.
"What do you mean?" she asked, titling her head to the side. This was the most she had ever spoken to someone other than Mr Jones in a long time.
Bucky averted his gaze to Lucy, she appeared concerned. It reminded him of the man that claimed he was if friend. They both shared similar expressions, Bucky tried to swallow down the memories.
"I'm trying to remember, and forget," he said, dropping his eyes to the floor boards.
Lucy felt another swell of pity for him, she knew exactly what that was like. She dropped her eyes to her meal, and placed it on the ground and crawled to her backpack. She pulled out her art book, and a couple of pencils and placed them beside Bucky.
"Whenever I've wanted to remember something, I write it down, so I can't forget it again," she mumbled, looking at him with pity.
Bucky looked at the book and at Lucy. He hers glistened in the sunlight, such a bright hazel. She wasn't threatening at all, she wanted to genuinely help Bucky.
"Thank-you, I will," he said. Lucy moved back to her wall and finished eating her breakfast.
Once they were completed she packed everything in her bag and looked at the time. It was 9.15am.
"Well I need to get home and ready for work, I'll bring some meat and vegetables for dinner tonight?" she said holding the strap of her bag in her hand.
Bucky nodded. Lucy rose from her position, "Oh and can you make sure you drink your water, you need to stay hydrated," she said.
Bucky nodded again. "See you tonight," she said before closing the door. Bucky was again left in silence.
Last night he was left telling himself that he couldn't trust Lucy, but she displayed no signs to distrust her. He thought he wasn't ready to remember, but really he was just scared of being consumed. With the separation of mind and paper, maybe he could face it.
He picked up the book beside him, opened the book to an empty page and grabbed one of the pencils. He closed his eyes and embraced the memories. He wrote every scene and sound he saw. Many were of a small blonde boy, and others were the cries of those whom he had killed. He began to create a tally of all those he saw that he had killed, he was afraid of himself, afraid of how large the number was.
Lucy had to drive to Mr Jones' place today, she was running late – something she had never done. Which is why he was worried when she finally let herself through the door.
"Goodness girl, I thought something terrible had happened," cried the frail old voice from the lounge room.
Lucy set her car keys and bag beside the door, and placed her coat on the hanger.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, I lost track of time," she said before switching on the kettle to make Mr Jones's usual morning tea. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she gathered his medication from the cabinet and filled a small glass of water. She took them out on a tray and set them on the table beside Mr Jones.
"You've never been late be-" Mr Jones paused, and cheekily smiled. His soft brown eyes glint with happiness. Lucy knew that cheeky smile look all too well.
"You've met someone," he continued, the wrinkles of his face framing a sweet smile.
Lucy went a bright shade of red, and held out his medication.
"No I haven't," she said as she fed Mr Jones the medication, and let him sip the glass of water. She was always amazed at his ability to read her like or book.
"Oh right, and the sky isn't blue?" he teased slipped another cheeky smile.
Lucy playfully rolled her eyes and took the medication back to kitchen and finished making his tea.
"I suppose you'll tell me all about him when you're ready," he cried out.
"I seriously doubt it," she playfully muttered under her breath. Although he was a ninety year old man, Mr Jones was very protective of Lucy. He treated her like she was a daughter, and if he knew that she was caring for a shifty man in her shack, he would be the least bit supportive.
Lucy's job was to care for Mr Jones, by cooking, cleaning and general care. She loved spending her time with Mr Jones, even though she was only scheduled to look after him every second day, she sometimes came in more than she was needed to.
However, Mr Jones was getting to the age where he was needing permanent 24 hour care. Despite her many offers to have him move in with her, Mr Jones refused and said it was his time to go to a home. So her job as of recently was sorting and packing his possessions.
Today it was her job to sort through his old clothing that he kept from his younger days. Even though they smelt like mothballs, they were in very good condition. She stretched out a beautiful deep blue shirt and examined it objectively. She thought of how Bucky had no clothing, other than the wet outfit he arrived it. The blue shirt would perfectly suite the shade of Bucky's eyes.
"What would you like to do with all these clothes?" she asked, holding some of the items in her arms.
"If they're any good, it'd be nice to donate them to charity," he said.
"Do you mind if I keep some?" she asked. Mr Jones looked at her with the playful grin.
"Of course dear, are they for your mystery man?" he asked playfully. Lucy looked at him with a playful stare and walked back to the cabinet.
"There is no mystery man," she called out setting a couple of the items for Bucky aside. She could hear Mr Jones laughing from his seat watching his telly. He was enjoying every moment of teasing her, after all, he'd never had the chance to before, he was making the most of it.
It was 3pm and it was time for Lucy to leave, she walked up to Mr Jones and kissed him on the cheek goodbye, and left with a cheeky comment of, "have fun with mystery man."
Lucy was looking forward to going back to Bucky, she was looking forward to giving him the clothes that she had saved for him. Two blue shirts, one red, and two blue jeans and one black pair.
When she arrived home, she went straight to work on cooking dinner for her and Bucky. Tonight it was going to be steak, mashed potato, peas and carrots.
She wondered how Bucky's injuries were going, and made a mental note to check on them when she arrived at the shack.
When she finished cooking dinner, she eagerly packed them in her bag, packed a shirt and pair of jeans. She realised that she didn't have any underwear for him to wear, and blushed a little. She may need to go shopping for those. She left the house and made way for the shack. The sun wasn't due to set for another two hours.
Bucky had been spending the last few hours trying to remember his past, he had filled many pages with notes about growing up, the war, and becoming the Winter Soldier. Dealing with the memories and torture of being the Winter Soldier were the hardest to deal with.
They were going to wipe him again, he hated being wiped, it was absolute immeasurable pain, nothing he had ever experienced hurt as much as that process. He was fighting of the guards, he snapped the neck of one, shot two and was tackled from behind by another.
Bucky rose from the floor and his metal arm punched a hole through the wall of the shack, the sounds reminding him of the explosions of the war. Her heard a cry and someone crept up on him from behind, he grabbed them by neck and held them up off the ground against the wall.
He was horror stricken when he realised it was Lucy, he immediately let go and she fell to the floor. Containers and clothes fell from Lucy's backpack as she clutched her neck and choked for air. He felt horrible, this feeling was worse than being wiped, he'd just hurt the only person that had showed him an inkling of care. He stepped over to help her but she scurried away, looking at him in fear. He had seen the look in people more times than he'd like to count.
