Did I love Steve?
Did I love him?
Those questions, revolve around in my head and turning my face on the pillow to look at my sleeping lover, know that because I was afraid of H.Y.D.R.A taking me away again that could not answer that question at all.
"Steve…...I love you so much. Yet, I'm so afraid." I whisper, shakily then because it is too much - causing my throat to feel tight suddenly - slide out the bed, head into the bathroom then closing the door behind me, go over to the sink.
I place my hands on it to stabilize myself, shoulders shaking so much and hitched sobs begin to fill the silence of the bathroom, coming from me as thick tears run down both my cheeks in rivulets. They plip into the sink and can't stop crying, so much that because of it, I don't hear him coming into the bathroom.
"Bucky…What's wrong? Tell me." He says, making me shake my head at him and continue to keep my head lowered from his sight.
I did not want Steve, to see me like this – see me breaking down – and his comfort is what I need now then lifting my head, turn to fully face him. He comes up to me, pulling me close to him and the both of sink to the bathroom floor on our knees.
"It's okay…. I'm here for you…. It's alright, Bucky…. I'm here for you."
A hand is sifting through my hair and the other, rubbing up and down my back to soothe me. I soon feel my body go limp in his grip, the tears no longer running down my cheeks and he picks me up in his arms then carries me out of the bathroom.
"Steve…...could you get me drink of water?" I ask him, my throat feeling tight from all the crying I've done and hear him sorting the pillows, behind my back then helps me sit up against them.
He heads out the bedroom, keeping the door open so I can see him and goes to the kitchen, getting a clean mug from the drainage rack then hear the tap, being run. I just hoped that no neighbors, across from his apartment didn't see him passing the window – that needed a new curtain - with nothing on and soon he is back through, carrying a glass of water.
He takes hold of the back of my head, cradling it gently and places the rim of the glass against my lips as I begin to gulp the water down, slowly. It soothes my throat, making me push his hand away when I had enough, and he places it on the bedside table then the bed dips slightly, while he sits down on it to look at me.
"Tell me. It will be better, getting it off your chest." He says, making me lower my head to stare at my hands – the fleshed one and the metal one, that been given to me by H.Y.D.R.A – and not answer him at all then feel him, taking hold of both my cheeks.
He leans forwards, kissing my forehead, eyelids and soon, lips in a gentle kiss that makes me tremble – because of it – then he pulls back to look at me. He reaches up, stroking a strand of hair from my forehead and tucking it, behind my ear then placing a hand on my chest, pushes me back to lay down.
He slides off the bed, pulling the cover back and slips inside, placing himself up against me then bringing it back up, switches the lamp off then sliding an arm over me, allows me to bury my face into his chest. I wait, for quite a while for him to fall asleep and knowing I shouldn't be doing it, slip out the bed without making a noise. I look back at him, before I shrug the clothes back on, seeing his calm face – not disturbed of any nightmares – and it causes my chest to ache that I go over to him then bending down kiss his forehead, gently and whisper, what might be my last words.
"Forgive me, Steve. But, there is something I must do."
The car park of "AVENGER'S TOWER" is empty, except for one car parked in the far back and heading to the lift, press the button as I wait quietly with the hood covering my face. I sense something, watching me and looking up, see that the camera is zooming in on my face then pulls back to its original position as the lift doors, soon slide open. I step inside, going to the back and leaning against the railing, stare at the floor as the doors slide shut in front of me.
The lift judders slightly, soon moving upwards with the machinery above on the cables hums with the energy that powers it and wonder had it been Stark, looking at me through the camera's feed to see who come to visit so late at night then bringing my hand up, slide the hood down to ruffle a hand through my hair. I would need to get a haircut at same point, even though I liked it when Steve, took hold of it in his hand and held it, sifting his hand through it to remind him that part of his childhood friend was still within me.
Yet, here I was heading to very top floor to talk to Stark, about what he said to me before he had reminded of that other time and I had pushed him as Steve, came in the door.
What had he meant when he said, "You're not the only one with secrets"?
Did he mean, that when I had been supposedly dead, when in the hands of the Russians – who trained me to become a cold-blooded killer, named the Winter Soldier – that something had happened between him and Steve.
I had killed more people, instead of letting them escape and get away from me.
And, Steve, did he know how much stained my hands from my victims that had been innocent?
How many had begged me to let them go?
How many orphans I had made in the world, where I had done my missions?
I come out of my thoughts, when the lift comes to halt at the top floor and the lift doors, slide open to reveal the sitting room. The lights have been dimmed low and stepping out the lift, the doors sliding shut behind me then see that Stark, is sitting in one of the armchairs near the large window. In his hand, he holds loosely a glass of bourbon filled with ice and going up to him, see that he is just looking down at the flickering lights of the city, down below as cars, go back and forth on the road.
He wasn't doing anything with his drink, so taking it out of his hand, I head over to the kitchen area and pour the alcohol down the sink drain then wash the glass out. Placing it on the rack, I head back over to him and stand in front of him, seeing that he is still staring into space then bringing my hand up, turn his face by his chin so he looks at me.
Brown eyes flick upwards to mine, soon lowering back down to not look at me and go to pick up the bottle of bourbon that is near window, when suddenly I'm whirled around then find myself slammed against the glass window by him that it knocks the breath out of me.
Winded by that action, I now slump against the glass with pain radiating up my spine and lift my head up to look at him to say something, only for him to smash his lips into mine with such force that I give a muffled gasp of shock and surprise that he was doing this then try to get free from him, only to feel him fully pin me to the large window with shove of hips into mine.
I'm trapped and can do nothing at all, while my hands are taken hold of by my wrists then brought above my head to be pinned to the glass as they un-clench and clench. I don't want to think that this happening to me, feeling his tongue probing around my mouth and begins to coax my tongue to soon entwine with his as saliva trickles out the side of my mouth, running down my chin.
I'm starting to feel hot, like I was being licked by tiny little flames and my hips begin to buck against his groin as it affects me down below. I was becoming aroused by just him, doing this to me and when he lets go of my lips, gasp breathlessly in the stillness of the sitting room with my face flushed, cheeks reddened, lips swollen, and pupils expanded so much that it told him that I had become aroused by the kiss.
