Bucky's been lying on his bed for what seems like hours already, staring up at that stupid fan. He feels tired, exhaustion weighing down his bones, but every time he closes his eyes, he sees flashes of memories. Broken fragments of the cryofreeze chamber, that damn chair, shooting down a jet. The worst is when he sees images of choking several people with his metal hand. He sees himself falling from the train, remembers being captured the first time, remembers trying so hard to fight, to resist with every ounce of his being.

He sighs in frustration and decides to finally get up. If he recalls correctly from Ana's tour of the place, there is a hidden staircase that leads up to the roof. He quietly exits his room, closing the door behind him and heads towards the stairs. His skin feels like it's buzzing with nervous energy, and if he doesn't get some fresh air he might go crazy with it.

The door to the roof is unlock, and he vaguely thinks that could be a security breach. The cool air hits his skin when he steps outside, offering a fresh breath. Bucky looks around to find himself alone, not that anyone would be up here at two in the morning. He finds a spot where the wall of the roof is low and sits behind it, staring out into the distance.

The compound is in the middle of upstate New York, surrounded by trees and the nature of the woods. However, in the far distance is the glow of the city lights, brightening up the horizon. The lights do nothing to drown out the stars though, sparkling in the night sky from the moonlight.

The air is quiet, serene, with just a distant hooting of an owl. Bucky inhales the crisp night air, filling his lungs and exhales, hoping to release the stress with it. He hasn't slept well for the past two weeks, being in a new, open place, but tonight the nightmares and memories haunt him more than usual. His skin has been prickling with anxiety, a consent fear that he'll wake up back in that electroshock chair. Forced to do Hydra's bidding.

He tries counting in his head, breathes slow and steady like Ana has told him to. He hears her soft voice in his head, instructing him to feel with his heart, rather than get caught up in the confides of his chaotic mind. So, he tries. He feels the nip of the air against his skin. Feels a light breeze flutter through his hair. Feels the wooden flooring that has been laid down over the concrete. Feels how smooth it is against his fingertips, feels the calm of the night around him. Feels the air shift behind him, feels a slight surge up his spine like someone is watching him.

Bucky looks over his shoulder and Ana is standing there, watching him silently. He has no idea how long she has been there, he didn't even hear her come up. Not for the first time, he thinks she looks beautiful, standing there with the moonlight cascading on her. Her hair is down, falling around her shoulders looking a little damp and wavy. She's wearing a black camisole and gray sweatpants that are hanging just below the curve of her hips, showing off a sliver of skin.

Her feet are bare as she walks toward him. He notices how red and puffy her lips are, as if she has been biting them all night. She sits next to him, her face is soft and sleepy, but there are circles beneath her eyes. Eyes that catch the soft orange glow of the only lamp light, besides the moon, on the roof. The little gold flecks glittering every time she blinks. The breeze picks up and the scent of roses hits his nose.

Ana smiles softly at him and his stomach churns oddly. "Can't sleep?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all." He's beginning to feel a sense of calm seep over him, settling in his bones. "You?"

"Same, energy felt off." She says, waving her hand in the air. The scars on her right wrist shine in the light. "Always have trouble sleeping when it does. How long have you been up here?"

Bucky shrugs. "Half hour maybe? Seems like my mind doesn't want to shut off."

"Want to talk about it?"

He takes his eyes off her, instead looking back out into the distance. He clenches his jaw, feeling the lingering fear of the nightmares. It's an extremely dark place in his mind. Sometimes he reacts physically when he thinks about it. When he wakes from them, lashing out at the nearest thing, just to make sure he isn't strapped down. He subtly moves his left hand closer to his thigh, away from Ana.

"I mean," She continues, "you obviously don't have to, we talk enough already during the day and that can be exhausting. You already look terrible, anyway. I mean, terrible in the exhausted type of way, not terrible in the you-just-got-hit-by-a-bus kind of way."

Bucky can't help chuckle at her. He turns his head back to look over at her. "You tend to ramble, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. Sorry."

"Nah, it's entertaining. I like it."

Ana bites her lip, but a smile breaks out anyway. For the first time since they've met, she looks a little timid. Almost like she doesn't know if she should sit next to him, to stay and listen if he wants to talk. So far, she's been very open, nonjudgmental in any way, and Steve's words play in his head. If he trusts Ana with his life, then why shouldn't Bucky trust her with his reason for not sleeping.

Trust is a two-way street, and Ana has been nothing but kind and patient. Never pressing or pushing on topics, never baiting and insisting for him to open up. She has been clear that anything they do is on his own time and terms. He decides now is that time. Before he can do so, however, Ana speaks up once more.

"Has anyone ever told you how blue your eyes are?" She asks, tilting her head.

Bucky frowns in confusion, taken off guard. Like she's been doing since he met her. "Um…no?"

"Well they are. I've never seen that color blue. Bluest of blues."

He smiles shyly. "Do you know you have gold in your eyes?"

"I've been told."

"Nine." He informs her. "You have nine golden dots in your eyes. Five in your right, four in the left. It's kind of captivating…pretty."

"Pretty?" Ana smiles, "you think my eyes are pretty?"

"I-uh…yes." Bucky stammers, his face suddenly feels warm. "They're nice…you have nice eyes."

Ana chuckles, then bites her bottom lip shyly once more and his eyes track the movement. "Thank you."

They fall silent. Bucky wonders why he can't seem to shake this nervousness he has around her. Ana turns her head to stare out into the horizon, seeming content just to sit there. Her eyes blink slowly, lashes brushing against her cheekbones. Cheekbones that cut into her face and leads to the defined joint of her jaw. The muscles there are calm, relaxed, unlike how it twitches when she's annoyed at someone for interrupting their time. Her chest is exposed, but there's the absent of her necklace resting against her collarbones. He's never seen her without it before, so it must be of importance, but doesn't want it to tangle in her sleep. Her dark hair picks up in the breeze and she pushes loose strands off her face and behind her ear.

Bucky has had a passing thought of it before, but now as he views her in the moonlight, soft and sleepy and almost vulnerable, he admits it to himself. Not only is Ana beautiful physically, everything else about her is as well. Her soul, her heart, her whole presence just wants to genuinely help people. She doesn't seem to have a hidden agenda, or anything to gain, and Steve is right. He sees it so clearly now. She just wants to help him. So, Bucky decides to finally let her, and completely opens up.

"I have these nightmares." Bucky confesses, startles Ana's attention back to him. She doesn't respond, and he's grateful that she allows him to talk. Her eyes wide and trusting.

"For the past week, every night when I close my eyes, I see the things I've done. Or I find myself back at HYDRA, strapped to that chair. They feel more like flashbacks more than anything. Images of what they did to me. Wiping my memory, torturing me with that machine, blending my mind. Reciting those goddamn words."

He sees Ana visibly inhale, and he copies her, helps calm him again.

"When I wake up, it takes a while to remember where I am. That I'm here and haven't been found. Be forced to go back and start the process all over again."

He blows out a breath, shoving his fingers through his hair. "Those two years when I was hiding, I convinced myself that I was safe. Finally, free from their grasp, but then the bombing happened in Vienna. The illusion I created was shattered, and then I was fucking triggered again." He lets out a humorless, self-deprecating chuckle. "It was two years, Ana. Two years without any of it, slowly putting my memories and myself back together, just to have it all jumbled again."

He pauses to collect his thoughts, scrubbing his hand down his scruff. Ana's hand makes an abrupt movement, like she wants to comfort him, but she stills it on the ground between them. He probably wouldn't mind if she wanted to; she's done it before during the day. Maybe she feels that this moment is different.

"They turned me into my own worse nightmare." Bucky admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe that's why I can't sleep. I can't escape it either way."

This time Ana does place her hand over his left, and he appreciates it. Bucky hasn't had anyone to truly talk these things out with before, and maybe right in this moment, it's all he needs. He smiles briefly at her, before looking down at their hands. He has noticed scars on her wrist before, but now he details them up close. A few are jagged, a few much paler than the others. It seems like she's been through her own nightmares as well.

She's been quiet this whole time, like she doesn't have the words to say anything. So, Bucky asks, "Any suggestions for the nightmares?"

"Whiskey?" Ana quips immediately.

It's unexpected, as is the laugh that comes out of Bucky's mouth. "What?"

"I'm kidding." She smiles. "Honestly, for me, the first thing I do is find the light, turn it on. At least that way I can account for where I am. That I'm in my bed and not the kitc- somewhere else. Sometimes I allow myself to be scared or sad, but only for a moment. Then, I start counting, not just breathing exercises. I count what's surrounding me. Count five objects I see, four things I can touch, three things I see that's important to me. Like a photo, a book, Ezra. Count two noises I may hear, and feel one thing you're close too."

"And that helps?"

"Yeah. It's what people do for anxiety or panic attacks as well. The counting focuses your brain on something trivial, something that doesn't trick your mind. It grounds you, relaxes your breathing and calms your heart. The counting can be switched with other things as well. Basically, whichever works the best for you. It's called grounding."

Ana looks forward, staring into the distance. "For me, I come up here a lot. More often than not."

Bucky raises his eyebrows. "Did I invade your spot?"

She rolls her eyes and nudges his shoulder with hers. Their hands are still touching, but he doesn't move. "Nah. I do have access from my room though. Makes it easier to come here."

"I can see why you come up here." He says, looking around. "It's nice, peaceful."

"Can help you escape when things get overwhelming." Ana pauses, squeezing the top of his hand lightly. The pressure makes the steel of his knuckles click. "Bucky, I want you to understand something. It doesn't have to be now, or soon, just hopefully one day."

She looks directly in his eyes, pinning him with a determine stare. "You, yourself, are not a nightmare. I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through, how you feel, what you think. But I can see it in your eyes, that you think you're a monster. You are not a monster, whether you believe me or not. I do not think you are."

Bucky feels his heart beat a little painfully in his chest. She just hit the nail on the head with that one. He didn't even have to say that is what he's been thinking this entire time. Having to come to terms with the things he has done, or didn't do, but did at the same time. It's been a long, confusing, guilt-ridden road, but that always seemed to be the thought he came back too.

"You are safe here, and those disgusting people will never get to you again." Ana tells him fervently. "Also, it's okay to be scared."

"You think I'm scared?" Bucky asks softly. He's terrified.

"I do. I think you're scared, nervous, confused, and it's perfectly fine to be. There's nothing wrong with feeling those things. That's what makes you different from those people, Bucky. That's what makes you human."

There's a passion in her eyes that Bucky notices. He saw it the day they met, and he sees it now, and it doesn't look like it's going away. She has a passion to help him, to allow him to work through this on his own time. He feels his heart open up, dropping whatever walls he was trying to keep up against her. They fall with a loud crash, useless because Ana had started tearing them down the first time she smiled at him. All it took was a month.

Bucky turns his hand over, gently squeezes her own. "Thank you." He tells her, the words heavy with gratitude.

"That's what friends are for, right?" Ana smiles brightly.

An unusual, almost new sensation comes over him, filling every part of him with warmth. There's a sense of comfort that's washing over him and he realizes he hasn't felt something like that in so, so long. Friendship. A new friend. Someone who seems to already know everything his brainwashed, control mind has done, and has yet to run away screaming from how dangerous he is. He hopes she stays.

"Yeah." Bucky agrees quietly.

He smiles back at her, slowly at first. Then he can't help his lips spreading wider, and he's pretty sure his teeth are showing. He thinks Ana's eyes soften, but that could be the dim lighting. She looks away, over her shoulder and points her thumb behind her, looking back at him.

"You know there are lounge chairs out here." She informs him.

"I…did not." He sees them now though.

Ana laughs. "Tired?"

"No."

"Hungry?"

"A little bit."

"Come on."

Ana gets up and it's only then does Bucky realizes he's still holding her hand. However, Ana uses that grip to pull him up, a surprising amount of strength packed away in her body. He's a little impressed. His hand grasps empty air when she finally lets go, and he follows her down the way he came.

She leads him into the kitchen, telling him to sit at the counter bar. She informs him she's making crepes, which he is fine with since he's never had them before. He says this much and Ana scoffs like she's offended. Bucky is content to watch her float around the kitchen, and he grabs the jar of Nutella when she takes it out and places it a little too close to him. While she's preparing the batter, he sneakily gets up, grabs a spoon from the drawer and sits back down.

He takes a rather big spoonful of the hazelnut spread, twirling it around so nothing drips on the counter. He puts half of the spoon in his mouth and watches her. She seems to glide around the kitchen, hips swaying a little as she does a small little dance as she pours the batter into the pan. The hem of her shirt has ridden up, exposing her lower back and with it, another scar, just below the dimples of her back.

Bucky is super curious now about the scars. Wonders if she has done some field work with the agents and if that's the reason she opts to stay non-combatant. Or, if she got into some serious trouble before, and the injuries were inflicted not from defense, but from an unsuspecting attack. That thought makes Bucky's heart clench and his jaw tighten. This scar is two inches thicker in width, serrate in a few places and nearly spans across her entire lower back. It looks like it starts at her left hip, stopping just past the right side of her spine. The scars look like knife wounds.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ana's incredulous voice interrupts his thoughts. "That's for the crepes!"

Bucky widens his eyes, popping the now empty spoon out of his mouth. "You set it down in front of me!"

"God, you're worse than I am." She rolls her eyes, leaning across the counter to grab the jar. "You didn't double dip did you because you'd owe me a new one." She looks into the jar. "Bucky, you took like half!"

"I cannot be held accountable for my actions with my sleep deprivation." He says haughtily.

"You're full of shit." She deadpans, narrowing her eyes. There's a small smirk on her lips though. "And you got something, right there."

She pokes her finger on the right side of his mouth. When she pulls back, there's a smudge of Nutella on her finger, that she proceeds to wipe on his nose. Bucky feels a little baffled as she laughs, going back to the pan. He grumbles as he grabs a paper towel and wipes his nose and mouth. He pouts pitifully at his empty spoon.

Ana sets a plate in front of him, rolling her eyes. "I put extra drizzle on your crepes, plus powdered sugar."

She did, and Bucky is pretty sure crepes are his new favorite snack. They eat in comfortable silence, and he keeps finding himself looking over at Ana several times. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, and one of the straps of her shirt is slipping down her arm. She still looks exhausted, the circles under her eyes growing darker, and her eyelashes flutter like she's trying to fight off sleep. Her tongues darts across her bottom lips occasionally, licking off any lingering Nutella or powdered sugar. Ana looks up once, catches him, and smiles.

He adverts his eyes quickly, looking at the digital time on the stove. "It's already 3:45? You should probably go to bed."

"Nah," Ana says finishing off her last bite. "I don't mind staying up with you."

"You know I'm a grown man," He tells her. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Yes, you do, Sergeant Snowflake. Otherwise that jar will be empty in the morning." She points to the Nutella.

He glares at the nickname, then says "Ah, you spoiled my plan."

"Really though. I don't mind."

Bucky smiles at her. He helps her clean up, washing the dishes by hand. It's something he discovered he likes to do. Keeping his hands busy keeps some thoughts and memories at bay. Right now, he thinks it's the present company doing that instead. They head over to the couch, Ana picking up the remote and picking a channel playing a late-night movie; The Sandlot.

They'll more than likely need to watch it again, because they make little conversations throughout the movie. They seem content to just talk about small things here and there. All the anxiousness, doubt and fear Bucky has been feeling from the night melts away.

By the time the movie is ending, Ana has decided to lay sideways on the couch, stretching out her body. Bucky himself is rather comfortable, half turned towards her with his back resting on the cushions and his feet on the table in front of him. Ana has fallen asleep, a foot of space between his thigh and her head.

There's something vulnerable about her falling asleep next to him, a former mind-controlled assassin, and he tries not to think too hard about it. His eyes feel heavy and he's drifting off after Ana, head falling onto the top of the back cushion.

In the early morning hour, Bucky wakes with something heavy on his chest. He slowly cracks his eyes open, stares straight into golden-green eyes. It's barely light enough outside, but he swears the killer cat is glaring at him. Bucky swallows thickly, doesn't know if he should move or not. Suddenly, Ezra leans closer, opens his mouth, and bites down on his nose. Bucky winces, but still doesn't move.

Then, Ezra is being lifted off his chest, the cat's nails digging into the flesh of his chest and shirt before he lets go. Ana is there, snuggling the devil cat into her chest, and Ezra's purrs begin to fill the quiet room. Bucky rubs his throbbing nose.

"Winter Bunny." She mumbles sleepily into the cat's fur. "Can't even fend of a kitty."

Bucky rubs his stinging pectorals. He doesn't even get a word out before Ana turns, half stumbling down the hall to her room. He gets up, following her decision and goes to sleep in his own bed, grumbling under his breath. He mutters something about killer Satan cats, offing their prey in their sleep.

"Dramatic Sergeant." Ana whispers. She looks over her shoulder, Ezra's tail flickering in the air. "We're sleeping in."

Bucky watches as she continues down the hall and disappears into her room. Evil cat has Ana wrapped around it's little killer claws.