Lara Barnes: Thanks for reviewing so much! Yes, the last chapter was super majorly cute, and I'm glad you liked it. And Bucky does care for May! It's only just beginning to show, and he's only just beginning to feel things toward her, but it's definitely there. Ah! I wish I had more time to write, because I'm just as excited for this chapter as you guys! (Sometimes I almost forget that I'm the author, and not just a reader.)

IsoldeAhlstrom: I'm really glad you're liking this so much! And thank you! I'm glad you like my writing. Actually, I've considered writing my own original works, but basing my writing off of something else is a lot more fun (at the moment). Thanks for reviewing!

aandm20: Haha! Thanks for your review, and I totally agree! So I was looking at your profile pic, and it's so cute and sad, and I got the most irrational urge to go hug a cactus. Before I realized that it was ridiculous, but still, it made me think. Poor cactus.

Astral Kai: Hello! I was wondering where you'd gone (briefly crossed my mind that you might be sick of me already), so I'm glad you remembered, too! And yes, I've been rushing my writing lately (actually, ever since the semester started), so I haven't been as careful as I normally am. Sorry, it's so bad that you've noticed. If it ever gets to the point where it's inexcusable, just tell me, and I'll get on top of that beta thing. Otherwise, I'm just trying to make sure I post ever week :) Good luck with making an account. I believe in you! You're welcome for writing that chapter, by the way! I did both of us a service, believe me! I've had that chapter in mind pretty much since I began writing No One, and it's been killing me to wait! And you'll be happy to hear that this chapter is Bucky's POV, and probably the next chapter, too. And no, I don't think there's any HYDRA any time soon. Though I could just be saying that to catch you off guard. I guess you never really know ;) As for my boy problems, yeah. They kinda suck. It's been going on for about 3 years now, and at first it was cute, but it's gotten old and creepy. He likes to think we're friends, but I'm really nitpicky on who I call friends, so I've never considered us to be friends. I have helped him get through a few rough patches, though, and that might be where this 'obsession' had come from. And I really like what you said, that I'm not obligated to like or love him in any way, because that made me realize that I'm not, and I'm going to tell him that when I talk to him again tomorrow (no, it's not an arranged marriage. My parents like him even less – if that's possible – than I do). Thanks so much for the help! I'm actually only 17, so if he doesn't drop these notions my parents are planning on getting a restraining order, though I hope it doesn't come to that. And you take care, too. Thanks for all of the reviews! I love getting your reviews!

Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! You should post this much every week! JK, I just love it when you review (but seriously, the more reviews the happier I am). And I'm really glad you guys liked the last chapter, and I hope you guys like this one, too. (I figured it was about time Bucky learned a bit more about May, because we all know her pretty well while he's been left in the dark.)

I'm planning on talking to the guy I mentioned in the last chapter's AN again tomorrow – to try again to make him leave me alone – so if any of you have any advice on what to do or say, I still appreciate it. And thanks so much to Astral Kai for the advice! It's really helped, and I'm hoping he'll take me seriously this time.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my OC's and my plot.

Chapter 12

A Car Drive

(And Confessions)

Bucky's POV

The thing about being an assassin, is you're constantly taking other's lives. And you get so immersed in taking other's lives that you forget that you've lost your life as well, but you're still alive.

Once an assassin has gotten to the point where he's no longer alive, it becomes easier to kill, because you no longer remember what it is you're taking from your victims. In HYDRA's case, they just took my life from me straight away, turning me into the perfect assassin.

The thing about life, though, is that it's really not just about being alive. An assassin may be alive, but he no longer knows how to live.

…

The next morning I woke up reluctantly for our workout, finding that I was surprisingly comfortable holding the slight form in my arms, gazing down at her as she slept. Then her eyes opened and met my own. She gave me a sleepy smile, then sat up. I followed slower, wishing we could just forget life for the day and stay cuddled in the bed, but reality called and I had to get out of the bed so she could as well.

As she slipped out of the room to change into her workout clothes, I looked at the wall next to the door where I had slammed her the night before, and I noticed the new hair thin cracks that had joined the original ones. The same guilt from the night before flooded me, and suddenly I needed to see the damage I'd done to her – whether to see just how bad it was or to punish myself for attacking her once again, I'm not entirely sure – so I followed after her.

What I saw, though, was more than I had bargained for. I had opened her door without knocking – something she scolded me for every week when I came for the healing session – and her bare back sported a large black bruise, as I had suspected. But as she pulled on her workout shirt I saw scars – so many scars – crisscrossing her skin, layered on top of each other, interrupted only by her bra strap, and I shut the door silently just as quickly as I had opened it.

The image was seared on my eyelids as I changed into my own workout clothes, and I felt curiosity run through me once again, this time almost unbearable, and I had to remind myself that she was trusting me not to look her up.

While we worked out we tried to talk, since we'd found it helps with the memories that often came back to us during the sessions, and in my case I hoped it would make me less likely to attack her if any of the memories that came back were too intense. One of today's topic surprised me.

"I was thinking," she said as she dodged a punch sent her way and sent one back at me. "That you were born in Brooklyn, right?" She didn't wait for an answer as she swiped her leg at my own in a low swipe. "So maybe we could go there and see what things are like now. Visit landmarks and stuff." I retaliated her swipe with a lunge and tackled her to the ground, raising my fist as if to show her I could kill her, but she already knew because she immediately stopped fighting; a signal of peace, but I could still feel her muscles coiled in case she needed to get away from me. I lowered my fist to show her I was still myself and she relaxed.

"Sounds good," I said, standing up and pulling her up after me. She shot me a look, then her face turned hesitant as she added to her idea.

"Maybe we could visit your family, too." It took me a moment to realize what she was suggesting and I immediately went still, because it hadn't even occurred to me that they were still there. In a cemetery.

She caught my hesitance and misinterpreted it.

"Sorry. It was a bad idea. It's not my place to pry." I shook my head immediately.

"No, I think it's a great idea. I just hadn't thought of it. I was surprised." She shot me a smile and I sent one at her as well, visibly shocking her. She cocked her head slightly to the side and my smile quickly turned to a smirk in the personality I'd forgotten.

"Like what you see?" And then my smirk fell to a frown because I had no idea where that came from.

"I don't know what that was," I explained. She gave me a smirk of her own as we grabbed our water bottles and headed back to the apartment as people began showing up.

"That was Bucky," she answered simply.

…

That weekend May called in sick on Friday and Saturday – she explained that her boss liked her so it wasn't a problem – and we took off for Brooklyn. It was about the time I was rolling up clothes and stuffing them into my newly purchased black backpack that the nervousness set in.

What if I wasn't ready for this? What if I had flashbacks and attacked May again? What if HYDRA found us? I slowly talked myself through my worries, but the nervousness remained.

I exited my room and found May stuffing a large wad of cash in her backpack, as well as her fake I.D. and she caught my look.

"For food," she explained. Oh, right. Food had completely slipped my mind. Usually when I traveled food wasn't a problem. Either it was short enough of a mission that food wasn't necessary, or I simply went without food for a few days since it really wasn't a problem for me.

Then she shouldered her backpack and the nervousness came back full force. She pulled out the keys to the car we had rented ("No, we can't hotwire another car, Bucky.") and her eyes softened when she spotted the look on my face which no one else would've been able to read, but to her I seemed to be an open book.

"If it's too much when we get there we'll leave. That's it. I'm not going to force you to do this." I nodded, and we left the apartment, locking it behind us, and our journey began.

…

The car she found for rent was actually a rather decent car, and it hadn't cost much, either, so I didn't mind it much that she had once again disregarded my idea for her own, because hers had ended up being the better idea anyway.

"I did some research on which cemetery your family is at and found that you actually have a grave, too. I guess it makes sense because everyone did think you were dead." I found the thought rather odd, of going to my own grave, but most of what's happened in the last long time was rather odd and didn't make sense, so I just added it to the list.

"What about you?" I asked her and she looked at me out of the side of her eye before turning her eyes back to the road – she was driving because she was technically the only one with a driver's license. Even though we both knew how to drive, it was still illegal for me to, and apparently that mattered to her (I'd had to restrain myself from pointing out that her I.D. was fake, and that was illegal, too.)

"What about me?" I couldn't tell if she was dodging the question or if she really didn't understand. I considered her low conversational skills and decided she really just hadn't understood what I was asking.

"Do you have a grave? Maybe next we should visit your family's graves." An unbelievably sad look crossed her face and I wondered what I had done wrong.

"No, I don't have a grave. Neither does my family." A dark look crossed her face and she muttered something more. "At least none of the people who matter." I wondered whether to press or not, but once again she read me and sighed.

"Sorry. I lived on the streets when I was taken by HYDRA, and there wasn't anyone to miss me, really, so I was just forgotten. My mother died in an accident at the mill she worked at, and my brother's body was probably never found. My father left my family for the war, so I'm not interested in visiting him, and my Uncle could've rotted in the gutters for all I care." I saw a dark tint in her eyes, but it wasn't the look I had begun to associate with the insanity she claimed laid just outside of her mind, but more of what looked like deep anger. The anger one feels before killing someone; revenge. It was the first time I had seen such a dark look on her face, and I didn't like it.

She let out a long breath and the glint faded somewhat from her eyes.

"But that's really not important right now. We're going to go visit your family, not mine, and I'm fine with that. Maybe after we can even stop at the Smithsonian where there's an exhibit just for Captain America. Maybe you'll be mentioned a few times." She changed the topic quickly, but I didn't want to switch topics yet; this was the first time she had really spoken of her past, and I felt I was at a large disadvantage because she seemed to know much more about me than I knew about her.

"Tell me more," I requested. Her shoulders slumped just a bit and I could feel the protest forming in her mouth, so I continued quickly.

"Where were you born?" she didn't seem to mind this question as much as the last one.

"I was born in Pennsylvania. We were known for our wide expanse of mills and factories, so there was a lot of smog, but I never traveled so I didn't know any different. I thought the air was just thick and dirty everywhere. But it was home." I thought about that for a second. It made sense, because travelling was a lot harder back then than it is now, and the U.S. was still new; the people were still learning how to be a good country while still staying on its own two feet financially, so there were factories everywhere polluting the air. Even with that logic, though, something inside of me ached to think of a young girl on her own in the dirty streets with no family, trying to stay alive only to be taken by HYDRA.

"What about you? What was it like in Brooklyn?" That made me think, because I was still only just regaining memories of my home place.

"Things were good, I think. The great depression was hard on my family, and we went without food quite a few times, but after that things were fine. The streets were dirty, but it was easily enough looked over. And the air was dirty, too, but I don't think it was as bad as in Pennsylvania." She nodded, now having a good picture painted in her mind. A question nagging at the back of my mind since her explanation of her family made itself known, though, so I asked it.

"What happened to your brother?" She had said his body probably hadn't been found, which immediately made me assume the worst, but I didn't want to believe she had gone through that as well. She swallowed thickly and I was afraid she wouldn't answer and shut herself off from me, but after a moment she broke the silence.

"My Uncle – Uncle George – was a drunk. I was at the mills all day, and so I was gone until long after Tommy had gotten home from school, and that left him alone with Uncle George for a bit every day. He was a violent man, too, when he was drunk." I didn't like where this story was going, but she seemed to like it even less. "And when I got home one day Tommy wasn't in his bed like he usually was – he was good about his bed time because it kept him away from Uncle George. And instead of Little Tommy there was blood," at this she choked, but she quickly forced it down. "I'm fine. I'm fine." Only she wasn't fine.

"There was a lot of blood, and it looked almost like is body was – like his body had been dragged…" she choked again and I panicked, because she seemed to be hyperventilating.

"Pull over," I commanded, and it was proof of how shaken she was because she immediately obeyed, flipping the hazards on before nearly jumping out of the car. I followed quickly to find her pacing and running her hands through her hair, muttering to herself as her breathing quickened, and it took me a second to realize she was still talking to me.

"And it's all my fault, because if I'd been there I could've helped him. I could've protected him, or healed him. I should've protected him. I should've taken him away from there as soon as Uncle George brought us." I tried to stop her from moving; I grabbed her arms and held her in place, but then she was yelling at me, her chest heaving with the quick breaths she was taking.

"It's my fault, don't you see?! It's my fault! He shouldn't have died, it should've been me!" Then the energy seemed to drain out of her and her legs gave out, and she was being held up by me, so I gently lowered us to the ground. And she continued talking, only softer now.

"You should've met him, Bucky. He was the cutest little thing. He could've taken over the world and destroyed it, but no one would care because he'd be smiling at us the whole time." She let out a defeated little laugh that broke my heart. "He used to get me in trouble all the time, too, because he looked so innocent. Whenever he did anything wrong people always assumed it was me, but he was so good that he hardly ever did anything wrong, anyway. He got good grades in all of his classes, and it was probably only because the teacher didn't want to give him bad grades on anything because it was so heartbreaking to see him cry. And he'd always say that when he grew up he wanted to be just like me, because by then mother wasn't our mother anymore. I was his mother. He called me his Emmy Mommy, because I wouldn't let him call me Mother in case mother caught him and got mad." I pulled her head to rest against my shoulder similar to what she had done with me after my nightmare, but instead of putting her forehead to my shoulder I simply had her rest against it so I could still see her face, so I was able to watch as her face crumpled and she tried in vain to keep the tears in her eyes.

"He wanted to travel someday. He wanted to leave Pennsylvania, and in his prayers at night he told me he prayed that he could get me out of the mills. He wanted to be a hero like Captain America and get rid of bad guys like Uncle George. But he didn't do any of that because I let him get killed. I was his Emmy Mommy, and I let him get hurt. I let him die." I shushed her, trying to get her breathing to slow down so she wouldn't pass out and I wondered at the pain in her voice. How could someone suffer so much and still be so nice? The idea baffled me.

While she slowly calmed down I searched frantically for something comforting to say, as she had so easily said to me when I needed comforting, but that was a lot easier said than done, especially for an ex-assassin. As I formed my words and gathered my thoughts a question crossed my mind briefly, and I had to wonder just who was the more damaged of us two? Who was it really that should be healing the other?

"Your brother sounds like he loved you a lot," I finally said, trying not to give her any false assurances or fake promises, because then I'd lose her without a doubt. As it was, I could tell she was listening. "And I don't think he'd want you to blame yourself for your Uncle's wrongdoings. As far as I can tell from what I've heard, you weren't really in any position to do any more than you had. The world was harder back then, and you were young." She still didn't say anything, but her breathing was gradually evening out, so I continued. "What your Uncle did to you and your brother wasn't in any way acceptable, but if you had taken your brother onto the streets with you his chances of surviving would have gone down drastically, and he likely would've died a lot sooner." I realized what I had said was insensitive about the same time she tensed as if she were about to get up, so I quickly tried to recover from my slip up. "What I'm trying to say is that it's not your fault, and I don't think Tom would like it if you continued to beat yourself up about it." She relaxed once again, but after a moment pushed herself up, wiping the few tear tracks from her face.

"Thanks for that." She said shakily. "I haven't actually told anyone about that before, so it was…" she trailed off, searching for a word, but finally gave up. "Thank you."

We got back into the car, but this time I drove. I told her that if we were pulled over for any reason we'd just switch seats quickly and she'd act like she had been the one driving. As it was, she made me promise not to speed – too much – and gave me the directions she had printed from MapQuest on the computer at the library.

She immediately fell asleep after that, exhausted from the whole ordeal earlier, and I let myself study her as she curled up against the window, hugging the pillow she had brought for the drive. How could someone be as strong as her? How could anyone go through what she had and still come out smiling? And I found myself reasoning that even though Steve and I both had been given physical strength, the serum must've made her stronger mentally, because she was the strongest person I knew, and that included myself.

…

Have any of you watched A Brilliant Young Mind? (Called X+Y in the UK). I just watched it the other night, and it's so cute! And heartbreaking and sad and adorable and ohmygosh! If you're into movies like that, I really advise watching it. It's super adorable, and I felt I personally could relate quite a bit with the main character, because a few people in my family have developmental disorders, so it wasn't a foreign concept to me, but it was absolutely amazing. Make sure to review if you agree!