I'm sorry this was so late. Thank you to all who messaged me and wished me well; you guys are awesome and so thoughtful. I am getting better, and right now attending college is amazing. Florida is pretty nice, and I've met some cool people. ENJOY!

There was a fire flaming in his eyes, and every blink revealed a darker shade of red fueled by disbelief and anger. He could hear himself and the others in the SUV yelling, the panic and furious air creating a cyclone of chaos. Bucky's hands were wrapped around Verdona's neck, shaking him like a rag doll as he yelled profanities at the Hydra agent. His hands tightened, and the agent's eyes bulged as he struggled to breathe.

His memories were all wiped away along with names, faces, the people he had killed; but he remembered this man's face. Oh, God, it pained his head so much, but he remembered that face and what it did to him.

Bucky's mind had darkened, and the tendrils of the cage had nearly closed around him. The bars began to bend and twist as the Winter Soldier nearly clawed his way out, nearly setting himself free until there was a swift kick in the face that sent Bucky's head spinning. He fell onto his back with a heavy groan, and Verdona swallowed painful gulps of air.

Natasha set her foot down with a grim face, gun held firmly in her hands, look as she watched the assassin hold his head. Bucky pried his eyes open with a pained groan, and just as he was about to pick himself off the car floor, Steve had swooped in to restrain him from behind. Verdona breathed heavily, pressing himself against the car's door to get away from the enraged soldier. Bucky fidgeted against Steve's hold, the back of his mind screaming to tear this whole vehicle apart.

"What the hell did I tell you, Barnes?" Hill growled at the wheel. "I told you not to kill him!"

"He deserves to die," Bucky seethed. He struggled against Steve's iron grip, and Natasha trained her gun at his chest. "Let me go, Steve!"

"Easy, Buck," Steve spoke with a gentle, but very firm tone. "Breathe."

The frightened Hydra agent quivered and breathed erratically. His hands were still bound, and a whimper was muffled by the gag. His dark eyes pleaded, filled with mercy, for the others in the car to protect him from the Winter Soldier. This sparked a murderous darkness in Bucky's veins, and he screeched, lunging one more time for the man.

A shot was fired. And everything went dark.

There was an awful, metallic taste in his mouth. Not to mention the the excruciating headache going on in his head. He'd only been knocked out a few times in his life; he was skilled enough to dodge bars of metal or fists from colliding with his head.

But Bucky certainly hadn't expected Natasha to shoot him with a tranquilizer or whatever the hell she had used.

With a stifled groan, he sat up, muscles protesting. He was in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cells, and he swore. The last time he was in one of the unnaturally bright, white rooms was when he first came to the security agency. The memory left a chill on his spine; the room reminded him of his days in Hydra. It wasn't the white of the room, but it was its lack of space that made him feel ill.

"Nice to see you awake."

He pictured Steve leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and a look of disappointment on his face, but the blond wasn't there to chastise him. A rather bored Agent Hill sat in a chair with her legs crossed, a hint of disdain in her eyes.

"I should have you restricted from ever going on a mission ever again," she said with a bite.

He'd roll his eyes if his head wasn't on fire. The bars in his mind were warped and bent, and the voice whispered horrible things. He swung his legs over to meet the ground, and he sat there with his elbows on his knees. He was still in his uniform. He rubbed his face, trying to remove the heaviness out of his eyes.

"How long was I out?" He ignored what she said. There was no clock in the cell, only a metal door with a small square window. Days could have passed and he wouldn't have known being stuck in there.

"Three hours," Hill answered. "Romanoff used a tranquilizer on you. Night-Night gun, or whatever the developer calls it."

Bucky's brow twitched. Whoever decided to call the weapon such a ridiculous name sure knew his shit. Whatever was in that tranquilizer sure made his head feel like it was going to explode.

"And a punch to the head wouldn't have sufficed?" He asked bitterly.

The agent gave him a humorless snort, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again. "We have special protocols for your… case."

It took only a second for his eyes to darken. He should have known, he thought maliciously, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't just let a potential threat in with open arms, and expect him to polite and wipe his shoes every time he would set foot within the facility.

"Fury that afraid of me?" He spat.

"Well, given that temper of yours," Hill said. "I'd say that we were correct in our predictions for losing control."

He sighed. She had a point.

"Agents Romanoff and Wilson have gone to debrief," she continued, waiting for the super soldier to say something. When he didn't, she narrowed her eyes and added, "Everything that happened in this mission will be documented."

"Fine." He was blunt, devoid of emotion. Bucky did not feel any ounce of care in him; there was nothing he could do. What could he do?

"You went against orders," she said. Bucky, again, didn't open his mouth to comment, and his silence only irritated the commander. "You were unprofessional, you could have killed our susp-"

"Well, he's still alive, isn't he?" Bucky muttered. "The bastard's lucky."

"Sergeant Barnes, he is a valuable asset," she glared, and she stood up to leave. "I should demand Fury to keep you out of these affairs from now on."

He snorted. "Your loss. I'm a walking encyclopedia."

He was digging himself a hole. Bucky's memories were still trying to break through the membrane of his consciousness; they all knew that. It was strange for him to retort like that, and he tried very hard to understand why he said that. Perhaps it was losing the opportunity to eradicate his tormentors, but he couldn't find the answer. That and Hill didn't give him a chance to as she opened her annoying up again.

Her words were as quick as her strides towards him. Her hands were clenched in fists, and her eyes were narrowed. "Joke or not, if you're holding information, I would advise you to turn it over to Director Fury immediately."

"You can stay in here all you want, Sargeant. Hell, I could care less if you rot in here. Whatever you're holding back, I demand that you release that information into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody."

Bucky gave her a blank look, one that he knew infuriated the woman. He didn't know what was wrong with him; all he could do was just say something insignificant, and the agent would burst like a bubble. He wanted to watch her stomp out and leave him alone.

Looking around the small detainment room made his insides twist, though. Bucky swallowed thickly, his mind going grim. He didn't want to be left in this… box. He wasn't about to Agent Hill that; he didn't want to see that smug look on that stiff face of hers. No, he wouldn't give her that.

"Take me to Steve," he said. "And I'll tell you everything that you want to know."

The agent's jaw twitched. "Captain Rogers is currently with our prisoner, and under no circumstances will I-"

"Either you take me to Rogers or you'll lose your most valuable asset for this team."

Maria opened her mouth to snap back a remark. It closed after a moment, and she was red-faced from frustration. She pivoted on her heel and marched towards that door, swinging it open so hard that it slammed against the inner wall of the holding cell and frightening a guard positioned outside.

They exchanged a few words, and Bucky wondered how deep the hole he dug up for himself was. Hill looked back over her shoulder with a cold glare, and his brow arched up.

"Come with me."

He rose with a nod, following her out of the cell and into the brightly lit hall. The guard who was positioned by the door glared at the super-soldier, and Bucky sneered at him. The guard bristled, and set his eyes to the back of Bucky's head.

Hill lead them with a stiffness in her back and shoulders, as if she had an awkward itch. Bucky's teeth were grinding against each other as the three of them went up to an elevator. A button was pressed to up to the fourth level, and they quickly exited once the doors opened up. Bucky had no problem with keeping up with Hill's long strides.

There were more agents on this floor and more rooms. Bucky had only been on the fourth floor once or twice in the last few months. It was meant for interrogation and archives. He hated this floor, more than the holding cell and the small apartment S.H.I.E.L.D. "gifted" him with.

The first time was his arrival and immediate interrogation by Fury. The second was when Steve lead him to a section of archives on Hydra, on him. He felt very ill that day, and would think about the things he read on his file every other day.

After a sharp left, they approached the second door on the right. Hill knocked once before entering; Bucky followed. There was a small room with a glass wall-one way glass, Bucky noted - and another door leading to the other side of it. Steve stood with his back to them and arms crossed. He had yet to change out of his uniform, and he looked exhausted. Through the glass wall stood Natasha with a dark, frustrated look. And sitting in front of her, cuffed to a chair, was Verdona.

Bucky's jaw clenched, but he was pleased to see the man battered and bleeding from his lip and nose. Some of it was Natasha's work, he guessed. Darkness stirred in his chest, and the echoes of bars rattled in his mind.

Steve looked over his shoulder, and his brows rose in surprise to see his friend along with Fury's second in command. "Buck…"

"I expect you to be here tomorrow morning, Barnes," Hill said before turning to leave.

The guard who followed looked like a lost child, looking between the door and the two super soldiers. Bucky sent him a glare, and he paled before fleeing into the hall.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked.

Bucky took a few steps past him and stood in front of the window. He didn't answer him; he didn't know if he was okay. Perhaps he wasn't.

Steve stood beside him, and they both watched Natasha circle around their prisoner. It was like a game of cat and mouse. They way she walked and looked almost seemed predatory. Bucky could've smirked; Black Widow suited her so well.

He envied her. He wanted to be on the other side of the wall, but interrogating wouldn't be apart of the equation. That metal arm of his would crush Verdona's windpipe to dust. His whole body craved it, the feeling to destroy. If only he finished the deed...

"Natasha had to do it."

Bucky sighed, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest.

"I know."

Crunch. There was a shriek, and the corner Bucky's lips turned up. Natasha dug the heel of her foot in the middle of Verdona's face, and blood poured down his chin from his broken nose.

Steve nodded towards the wall adjacent to the glass. Beside Steve's things was Bucky's duffel. "Thought I'd bring it to you. Guess I don't need to, now that you're here."

Bucky gave him a silent thank you, crouching to unzip it and pull out a shirt and a pullover sweater. He unbuckled, unzipped, and unclipped the protective armor over his chest. He pulled it off of him before doing the same to the sweaty shirt we were underneath. Pulling on the clean, soft clothes should have made him feel better. It didn't. It made him feel worse. He didn't deserve something nice to wear.

He eyed the jeans he had thrown in there and the sneakers. Kicking off his boots and uniform pants, he pulled on the rest of his clothes. He could only imagine the look on someone's face if they were to walk in on the Winter Soldier changing. He'd give them a hard glare.

He patted the front of his jeans, pulling out his phone as he returned to Steve's side.

"What did that man do to you?" Steve asked quietly.

Steve wasn't ignorant. He knew almost everything that Hydra did to his friend. The way Steve had asked the question made a cold chill run throughout Bucky. The things that many Hydra members did to him… The sins that he committed…

There were faint screams in his mind as he answered softly, "Just some of the unforgivable stuff."

Bucky kept his eyes trained on the glass as he turned on his phone. He watched Natasha speak, asking a couple questions. He could hear everything through the small speak implanted on the wall above him. The words, however, didn't reach his ears. The only sounds he registered was the connecting of a fist or boot to Verdona's face and chest.

An anxious feeling washed over him every time the man screamed. He should be the one doing this, he thought

"They wanted to make me stronger then," Bucky said. "So he experimented. Came up with concoctions of shit that I can't even name. He shot it through my veins, tortured me… wanted to see how much I can take."

He smiled bitterly as he looked at Steve. His phone lit up in his hands as it finally turned on, illuminating the twisted look in his eyes.

"Made me stronger, but not as strong as you." Bucky shook his head, and tapped the side of his temple. "Left me pretty battered inside though."

Steve sighed. "It's over now."

"Is it?" Bucky spat. "At night, some fucked up stuff goes on in my head, Steve. Verdona is only a small percentage of what I think about at night. The hardest of memories come back to me every now and then, more often than the good ones. The things that I see… The stuff that I relive? It's barely over."

Bucky went around him to pick up the sling of his duffel. "Keep an eye on Verdona. The bastard's a terrible sneak."

He made it towards the door before Steve spoke up again.

"You're doing really well," Steve looked at him. "Don't let all this progress go to waste."

"It won't," Bucky muttered.

He closed the door behind him, right after Verdona released a pained yell. It was hardly satisfying.

Bucky returned to the elevator, and he pressed the first floor button. As the elevator hoisted itself up, Bucky's phone began vibrating. He opened it up, and was surprised to see fourteen messages. He groaned and slumped back against the elevator wall.

Every message was from Eva.

The time read half past two in the morning. Was it really that late? Every message he read was a series of questions asking where he was, if he was alright. He had forgot about their plans. He thought he'd get there at nine, but that was hours ago now.

He swore under his breath. She must be mad at him. She must think that he was a jerk, an asshole who didn't respect her.

When the elevator opened up, he exited with frustrated strides. The man at the desk paid him no mind as Bucky threw open the door and left the building. It was exceedingly cold, and snow crunched under his feet. Bucky swore again, and as he realized that he had forgotten his gloves, scarf… basically everything that kept him warm.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets as his breath frosted every time he exhaled. There were no cars driving around, and the clouds above looked dark and heavy. The light pollution of the city made them look like a hazy orange. It looked like it was going to snow soon.

All Bucky thought about was sleep, Eva, and Verdona. He walked bitterly with these thoughts as he swam with anger and guilt. He was angry at himself, at everything. The horrible clanking of bars made his head hurt. All he wanted to do was crouch down on the sidewalk and scream until his throat bled

Eva, he thought. She must have been sad or disappointed. Bucky's heart lurched at what she must have thought when he didn't show up for pizza at her place. If she thought that he hated her or something worse…

Bucky knew that he was overthinking this, but the guilt was still parasitic.

He stopped walking after an hour or so. It was a little past three thirty now. He dug into his duffel to pull out his keys to the apartment, but stopped as he trailed his eyes upwards. It wasn't his apartment building.

Of all places, he didn't think that his feet would lead him to Eva's doorstep. Perhaps his subconscious was that powerful.

He stared at the door for some time, unsure of what to do. His face was cold, and any moment now his nose would fall off. His phone was in his hand, and the other held his keys. He could go home.

No. Leaving did not feel right.

He stuffed his keys into his pocket and took hold of the door knob. He groaned; he'd forgotten that only someone within the building could buzz him in. He stared at the doorknob for a few moments, until his hand clenched and there was metallic crunch. He released the handle and gave the door a light push. It opened up for him.

It was eerily lit as always, and the heater in the building made terrible noises, like something that was caught in a vacuum. He scaled the steps, anxiety bubbling in his stomach the closer he got to her door. His senses told him to go back, that there was no point in even being there. He kept fighting back with the thought that he had to knock on her door.

And he did. He didn't realize that he stood there and was lowering his hand after knocking three times. There was no way she'd answer; it was late and everyone was asleep.

But the sound of a dog barking made him jump. There was a scratching on the other side of the door, and a soft whine. He waited, and waited, the only sound being the dog.

He sighed, and realized that she was asleep. He should have expected that. Bucky adjusted the strap of the duffel on his shoulder, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. With a sigh, he turned to walk down the hall. He scolded himself. What was he expecting?

When his hand touched the railing, that was when he heard it. The sound of a lock turning, and a door opening up. The barking had ceased, and Bucky craned his neck to look. He would've smirked if the strong sense of panic welled up inside him.

Eva stood there with a frown as she hugged her arms. Her hair was messy from rolling around in bed, and she had on a large t-shirt with sweats.

"What happened to you?" She breathed and she crossed the hall with her dog at her heels.

His brows pinched together in slight confusion. He imagined her to punch him in the arm, or yell at him, for skipping out on her. She was supposed to be angry, but she wasn't. If anything, her face softened with worry as she touched his arm. Her hand trailed up to his neck, and he understood. He was bruised, and still had dried blood on him. Hell, he couldn't think of an excuse.

"It's been a rough night," he sighed.

"Come inside," she tugged on his elbow. "I'll put a pot on…"

Eva pulled him into her apartment, and she shut the door after Archie waddled in. Eva lead him into the kitchen, made him sit down as she busied herself. She was nervous; Bucky could tell. She fumbled with the knob of the stove, and made too much noise as she moved about. When she set a kettle on the stove, Bucky spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

Eva glanced at him with a frown as she ripped a square off a paper towel roll. She gripped a small bowl of water as she sat down beside him. "It doesn't matter."

"You should be mad." Bucky watched her dip a corner of the paper towel and bring it up to his neck. His instinct was to pull back, but he stayed still for her.

"Maybe I am," she said. "I think anyone would after ordering two boxes of pizza to eat alone."

A small smile was played on his lips. "I'll pay you back."

She ignored that, and cleaned around the place where the pellet from the Night-Night pierced his skin. There was a dark bruise, and Bucky could see her eyes widen slightly as she tried to restrain whatever she was battling with. She must've been afraid, he thought. He wanted to know why she would be afraid.

"Was this what occupied you for so long?" Eva asked him quietly. She lowered her hand and held it with the other.

"Yeah."

She nodded to herself. "At first I was kind of pissed when you were half an hour late. I kept texting you, and then I started to get worried, that maybe you got… I don't know, you got hit by a car? Now, though… Seeing you look like death and all battered up at four in the morning? What happened to you, Bucky?"

The words that left her mouth rang in his ears, and he didn't know how to respond. A while ago, he thought about the internet and how everything had been leaked onto the stream of information. He wondered if Eva ever searched about the helicarrier incident, if she ever came across Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files, maybe his files.

Would it had been easier if she found out through a link about his position in the last few decades?

The look on Eva's face was genuine, and something began to hurt in his chest. Bucky couldn't stand that look in her eyes, but he didn't know how to proceed. He always knew what to do, yet he couldn't figure out how to answer a simple question without it blowing up in his face.

"Is it bad?" Eva took his attention again.

He swallowed thickly, and he nodded. He heard her sigh, and move to turn off the stove. He watched her carefully; he was uneasy, and he knew that she was the same. Something tore at his gut, at the thought of her being wary around him.

The metal of his hand was still cold; he could feel it laying still in his pocket. Bucky felt something strange in his head, and perhaps in his chest too. He wasn't sure, but once his shoulder began to ache, a new series of thoughts began to bother him.

It was strange, Bucky thought. He was always so sure of himself. Even before his fall, he was sure that he never thought twice. He was arrogant then, maybe even now, but every step he took was with fiery confidence. He didn't have to think of right and wrong before the helicarriers. He wasn't given a choice in how to act; he just did. Seeing Steve, however, had almost destroyed the wall around his head and heart. He became unsure of himself for those split moments. He was unprepared for new encounters, for people to engage him with their heart. People fought him, tried to kill him; but he knew what to do.

These emotional things… He didn't know how to handle them. There was no training, no pre-programmed information for his cognition. He didn't know what to do, or what to say to Eva. Somehow losing her friendship felt different from losing Steve's. No matter Bucky did, Steve lacked the right sense of mind to turn him away; Steve wouldn't give up Bucky for the world, no matter how terrible a deed he did. Eva was different. She was hurt by too many things; she couldn't handle the deeds that he did. He was selfish in keeping her blissfully unaware of his job, who he had and currently worked for.

Everything that he may have forgotten, no matter how lost he felt in keeping up relations with people, he knew that one thing was for sure. Eva deserved to know someone who was honest with her.

"Bucky, what's wrong?"

She was frowning when he looked up. She held a mug of coffee in both hands, extending one towards him. His heart pounded in his ears as he stood up, and he pulled out his hand from his pockets. The pads of his fingers clinked against the ceramic, and brushed hers.

This is wrong.

He watched her brown eyes widen by a fraction, and slowly averted her gaze to the mug in her right. He asked himself what he was doing, that he should stop and leave her home. He didn't pull his hand away, even when he took in the look in her eyes. The dull kitchen light reflected off the metal and onto her face.

"Was this that accident you told me about?" He could barely hear her; her whisper was so quiet. "The one that put you out of work?"

He nodded. "Yes," his throat began to hurt. "Sort of."

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.

"A-and…" He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. "Bucky?"

He pulled away from her, and pushed up his sleeve. Eva took a few steps back, and set the mugs on the counter; her hands were shaking so terribly that it managed to scare Bucky. She looked up the length of his arm, from his fingers to his elbow with wide eyes. Her hand held her face, and only stood there without a word.

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.

His shoulder was on fire, and his throat hurt. He could only ask her one thing, because it was the only thought that blared in his head.

"Are you afraid?"