CHAPTER X

Bucky doubted she realized, but much of the time she was not talking to him she mumbled to herself, just quiet enough that he couldn't hear what she was saying and if it was loud, it seemed nonsensical anyway. It had annoyed him at first, but by this point he was just intrigued. He had lived a life of closely guarded secrets and silent thoughts, and this was a girl who mused aloud.

The only time she didn't do so was when she was working on his arm; her expression took on such an intensity it was surprising, especially considering her behaviour the rest of the time. He equated it to his own emotions when sighting along the top of a sniper barrel, when everything was focused on one specific point and he even forgot to breathe. But he had learnt that via training, and orders- he doubted Alvie had ever taken an order in her life. Maybe she didn't have to, since she lived alone. At first, Bucky hadn't trusted her because of the self-imposed isolation, but like with the mumbling now he was just curious. She was an indescribably odd person, and he needed to know why.

"Why don't you talk to anybody?" he asked one day, as she used a pin to gouge along in between two of the wires.

"What?" she looked up at him, blinking owlishly. "I talk to people! I talk to delivery guys, and people in shops, and you."

"You don't have friends," he persisted. Admittedly he didn't either, but then he had an excuse.

She shrugged. "Never wanted 'em. I'm perfectly happy living on my own," she said, giving him a pointed look.

"Fix my arm and I'm gone. It just seemed…"

"Odd?"

"Suspicious."

"Cheers," she muttered, and her bangs fell back over her face as she looked down to his arm again. They hid her restless eyes from him- cat-like, brown eyes so light they were almost yellow. "And I don't do friends. They're… distracting. I'd rather be on my own, so I can work without being interrupted. Learnt that from my last relationship."

He ignored her last point. "Makes my life seem social by comparison. I at least talked to people."

"Yeah, just before you killed 'em. And I talk to myself."

She's mad, thought Bucky. Completely mad. Whatever SHIELD thought about her, they were probably right. "Right." She's too dangerous to be on the field, near anything like SHIELD or HYDRA. And I want her to look at me again.

"I'm not crazy, okay?" she said defensively. "The fact that I live on my own, and talk to myself, and also that I thought giving hostel to a murderous refugee was an okay thing to do, does not mean that I'm crazy. We've been over this."

"If you say so." He went back to staring straight ahead, because if he looked at her for too long he found himself getting caught up in her pointless conversations. Bucky had been taught to never think of anything that didn't have a point to it, but it seemed Alvie's style was doing pointless things.

But then, just when he had her pegged as another spoilt heiress, she had escaped those HYDRA agents in town (they were HYDRA, he would recognize them anywhere, but he had guessed telling her that wouldn't be a good idea). She was a long way from useless, she was smart and fast, really fast, and he was curious to see what would happen if she was really trapped in a corner.

"I refuse to have my lack of friends mocked by a guy who's spent half his life in a freezer," she pouted.

"Do me a favour and stop bringing that up," he replied tersely, as memories of the crate they had kept him in flooded back, eagerly welcomed by the trigger of her words. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he clenched his fist.

"Then stop being an asshole to me! It ain't hard, Barnes."

"I can't remember how to," he said hollowly, refusing to look at her. "Sorry about that."

"Oh." She dropped her tools and pulled at her hair, and yet again said something under her breath. He wasn't sure what, but it definitely involved the word "idiot."

"HYDRA's gun never needed to know manners," he continued, for some reason feeling the need to explain himself. He wasn't lying; the way she seemed to want him to talk he had never experienced. Nobody had ever been polite to him, after all.

"Oh, Bucky," she sighed.

"Try not to pity me too much," he told her. Her knuckles were whitening beneath her dark skin she was gripping her hair so tightly, and his own fingers itched to prise them open, stop her causing herself pain out of sympathy for him. There was no reason for it. Why should she have to hurt, just because he had?

She didn't seem the type to be very good at comforting, but she attempted it nonetheless. "You're not their gun anymore, 'kay? You're trying to be Bucky Barnes, and although from what I know he was a cocky son of a bitch, he also knew how to talk to women without making them want to punch him."

"How d'you know that?" he asked, straightening a little. If the girl knew about his past, then she could be more useful to him than just a tinker.

"I've read everything the Howling Commandos ever said about you. I did my research, I'm not gonna let a stranger into my apartment, am I?"

"Can- can I see the files?" he asked, trying and failing to hide the hunger in his voice.

"SHIELD locked me out of the server first time round. But give me a couple of weeks, I can get them back for you." She paused. "This is the part where you say thank you."

The corner of his lips twitched. "Thanks."

"That's more like it."

Again, a couple of pointless words seemed to make her happy. He watched her as she pushed away from the chair and stepped away, studying her meandering walk, the way her shoulders were pushed back, the restless tapping of her fingers against her thighs. At least she wasn't dressed- Bucky didn't need to know about fashion to be put on edge by the eclectic mix of clothes she wore. No, he liked her best when she was just in underwear and a shirt, and not just because it was impossible for her to hide weapons then. There was nothing to distract him from her, watching her to make sure she didn't try to attack him.

Of course, he had ruled out the possibility of that a couple of days after he arrived here. But he watched her nonetheless. She was fascinating in that she was utterly unpredictable- Bucky had always hated unpredictability, since it made dealing with his targets so much harder. But somehow, it worked in her favour and he almost found himself… enjoying it.

He liked looking at her, although he wouldn't admit it. Especially when she wore very little, like now when he could see the marks the wiring of her bra left on her ribs as she ran her fingers beneath the band. As a rule, the only people he saw near-naked was the occasional target he caught off-guard, and himself of course. But she was somehow completely different to that, and he had practically committed the sight of her body to memory, from the curve of her hips beneath her shirt to the bruises that smattered her shins. If he watched for too long, he found himself wondering what she felt like, too, and that was when he pulled his mind away from her. He was a weapon, after all. He wasn't allowed to think like that.

But the fact remained that the thought of her gripping onto him, his fingers slipping beneath the band of her underwear instead made him shiver. He couldn't have her as his weakness, he refused to let that happen… no, he would think like that of any woman, he was sure of it. It was just because she was the only one he ever saw without having to kill or obey orders from. It wasn't her… he could not let her mean something to him. He refused to let it happen.

A/N GUUUUYS WE REACHED 100 FOLLOWERS AAAAAAHHH. So tonight you get a double update as a result. Hope you liked the change in pov!