Day 5, 0:04

You're not any different. The words rang in his skull, even hours after she had said them, so simply as if they were the truth. The pizza had longed been devoured and only Steve, the young girl and the red skinned one were still there. Stark had excused himself first, seeming eager to get out of there. Bucky observed the small glint of pride in the doctor's eyes and once more wondered what had happened to her that she had such an impact on Stark with so little words. But it was not his position to ask her.

It had become quieter after everyone had left, and Bucky enjoyed it as the conversation turned to the doctor's new skills, the other four people seemingly forgetting him as he leaned into a shadow.

"So how does this emotion thing work?" Wanda asked to rekindle the conversation. Dolores had kept her attention on James, trying to pick out whether he was uncomfortable so she might get him to a more quiet location, but he seemed fine, almost relaxed even. He had settled on a wall slightly away from everyone where the light didn't reach. She wondered whether he had picked out this spot on purpose or sticking to shadows came naturally to him.

She turned her attention to Wanda and smiled while trying to find the words to explain what had happened to her.

"I've always been good at picking up how people felt and other things about them. It helped a lot with Nessy, she wasn't the one to talk about her problems. James here can explain that best, I freaked him out quite a bit I think. I try to refrain from doing it the first time I meet people, it's impolite to invade someone's privacy like that, but I can only do that for a few hours. After that, it comes naturally. And I guess the serum just picked up on that and enhanced it. Only with touch though. So don't worry, I won't know your deepest secrets unless you give me your hands. I'll have to get gloves for that," she murmured as she looked down on the unprotected skin. Wanda furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Like how does that work? Do it on me, without touching, that one. I can't imagine that." Dolores smiled and tried to summarize all she had subconsciously picked up about the younger woman throughout the evening. She hesitated at first, but her voice became steadily more confident as she kept talking.

"You grew up with your brother. Your parents were around, but your brother was your family. He was part of who you were. He still is, you try to hold on to that, to every part you think he influenced so that he can't leave you. You want to be proud of your powers, you want to love them, see the beauty, but you've seen them used for too much bad, have seen them cause too much harm. You think restraining them, restraining yourself is the way to go, even though all you want to do is paint the sky red and embrace your magic, no matter what anybody thinks. But you're still afraid of that, what others, your friends, your brother might think. You want to not care about them, but you fear the dangers of being alone." Seeing the wide eyes and look of shock in Wanda's face Dolores let her voice trail off. Steve and Wanda were staring at her, Vision was staring as surprised as a sentient AI could and James had a subtle smile playing around his lips.

"I'm sorry. Once I get started I just keep rambling." Dolores lowered her gaze back to her hands. Wanda seemed to find her voice first.

"And... and how could you tell? Without mind reading?"

"Your eyeliner. The way you dress. How you keep your head low and you voice down when you're burning to say so much." Baffled, Wanda fell back into her chair. It was Vision who spoke next.

"Then, what is the difference between your inductive skills and you serum-induced powers?"

"The induction can only tell me what's on the surface, maybe a few stabs at a person's past. When I now touch people I can get a complete picture of the momentary emotional state." Steve sat up and stretched out his hand.

"Okay, try me." Dolores looked up at him in surprise.

"You sure?" He just shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure. I have nothing to hide, and I really want to see what you can do." Dolores thought about refusing, but then she shifted over to him with an evil smile, before she rested her hand on his arm.

"Okay. Out loud?"

"Sure."

"Pull away whenever." At Steve's nod, she closed her eyes and pulled away the barrier that she had subconsciously already constructed to keep the strange emotions at bay.

"You're content. This is your idea of a perfect evening. You've had too much pizza, but you love it. You're... a bit afraid of what's to come, of the accords, but you can see Tony's reasoning, and you're still a team, that's what matters to you. The biggest thorn has been removed, Bucky's here, he's safe with you, away from people you don't know trying to hurt him. You're worried a bit about how he's changed, what that means to your friendship. You know he remembers you, you just don't know what that makes you. But you're sure you'll figure it out. You are worried about the storm coming, but you have already built up your resolve that you'll keep him by your side, come hell and high water. You've followed him to war, you won't leave him now when the whole world seemed to want to tear you apart. But that's all subconscious. Right now, you're happy. And amazed, astonished, a little spooked and afraid." She opened her eyes and Steve's eyes reflected exactly what she had just said. Wanda's laugh tore them out of it and Dolores self-consciously pulled back her hand.

"You should to that to Tony! That look on his face!" She broke down laughing, Vision smiling with her, keeping her from falling off the couch. Dolores smiled with her, noting the look that passed between James and Steve. Then a yawn forced itself from her mouth and she rubbed her face.

"I'll go down, I'm dead." She unfolded her limbs and rose to her feet. She found Steve's gaze.

"Is it okay if I drop by tomorrow sometime after ten? I want to get some stuff sorted, but my brain won't be doing shit tonight." Steve nodded.

"Sure. Just ask Friday, she'll tell you if we're up." Dolores nodded and headed to the elevator. She passed the button and went into the staircase.

Only when the door had fallen close behind her did she let the anxiety that had racked her core for the last hour show on her face. She stumbled down the first flight and slid down the railing in a corner letting her breathing assume the frantic speed it had begged her to go to for what had seemed like forever. In a hundred story building the staircase was the least used room. And she hadn't wanted the others to see her in such a vulnerable unstable state. She didn't need them questioning her confidence. Especially not James. How could he trust her if he learned that she wasn't half as stable and reliable as he believed her to be?

As the events of the day finally caught up to her, sobs escaped her lungs, her breathing harshly contracting, allowing even less oxygen to enter her lungs.

She had hurt people. On purpose. She had looked at the soldier stepping on Nessy's case and had wanted to hurt him. She wanted him to hurt, to feel so much pain that he would crumble to dust. And he had. The man had died from the pain. As had the four others. When she had seen the blood on the soldier's blade, had seen how close he had come to killing James, she had been furious. Fire had risen from her soul and she had wanted to hurt the man. In the blood she had seen all the pain Hydra had caused James and she had been so angry at having allowed them to cause him more, she wanted the soldier to feel all of it, feel the suffering he was the source of. She hadn't meant to kill him, but she hadn't stopped, hadn't regretted his soul fading from his eyes. She looked at her hands, those creepy eerie hands that could dig themselves into people's souls and brains and could see the blood of five men dripping from them. Five souls. Five thinking minds, five little micro verses that could now never be replaced. And at her hands. She, a doctor, had taken lives, willingly. She hadn't been unable to save them, she had torn them from their bodies, watching their souls fade in her hands. A rough cry broke loose from her throat. She clasped her hands over her mouth to muffle her cries as her body writhed under the tears and sobs that racked her body.

Bucky stepped into the staircase behind the elevator. Steve had asked him to go, after the voice without body had brought the message from the young one and the redhead that the doctor wasn't there. Bucky had been relieved after the red skinned one had left through the wall that he would finally get to be alone again when the voice had interrupted the silence. Steve had asked him to go, had said something about the doctor trusting him the most. Bucky though that was stupid. The doctor might think it was interesting to work with him, pick him apart, even if she meant well, but that didn't mean she trusted him by a long shot. But it meant he got a few minutes alone, and as those moments had become rare since Bucharest, he had learned to cherish them all the more.

He walked down the stairs slowly, making no sound, as usual, hoping he might just pass her by. His mind raced ahead, dreaming how he might just end up in front of the back door of the tower. How he might walk through and vanish, unobstructed, unnoticed, like the ghost he was so much better at being. Leave all those people he couldn't trust behind, back to relying on the one person he could trust, himself.

Suddenly his body tensed, the knife in his hands before he could recognize the small heap of a human leaning against the railing. When he recognized the doctor, his body relaxed, his soul tensed. She was crying. He had seen her cry, but never like this, and now he stalled, unsure how to react. His mind was still caught up in his little fantasy, craving the solitude of a forest or a desert, but his soul was tugging at him, a small voice in the back of his mind, telling him to stay. She noticed him standing there and her eyes flickered to the knife that was still in his hand.

"You're leaving?" Her voice was raw from sobbing and had something indescribably soft and rough about it. It struck him, how she didn't see him with a knife as a threat. Her eyes weren't trained on the weapon, on the threat, but on his face, to catch every stirr of his muscles.

"I... No. Steve wanted me to look for you. The voice said you weren't downstairs, so he was worried." He said nothing of the thoughts he had toyed with just moments before. She tried a shattered rugged smile, but her quelled eyes and red nose belied her efforts.

"I'm fine. Go to bed, you're safe here, you need the sleep. Don't worry about me. I'll be down in a second, I'm fine." He knew she was lying, even he got that, but he didn't know how to respond. But he remembered how soothing her touch had been to him. He couldn't remember exactly through the blur of pain, but the fact that he had slept proved that her touched had helped. He forced himself to move, his heart leading his body against its instincts to sit down beside her. There was a good distance between them, his fighting instincts still screaming at him to put more space between him and the enemy. But he held his ground, even as he felt her eyes burning into his skull.

Eventually, she looked back down on her hands. Her breathing evened out and she tried to wipe the tears from her face.

"You really don't have to be here. I'm fine. I'm safe here, they can watch out for me. And I always wanted to learn how to handle knives, I can learn that now. I'm sorry for dragging you here. That's not my call to make. I won't stop you. I mean, I'll miss you, even if it's been only four days, but I won't stop you."

Bucky knew she wasn't just talking about his sitting here with her. He looked at her, half amazed, half confused. How could she have perceived the last few days as positive? He had upheaved her life, had disrupted it, nothing was like before. How could she like that?

"Why are you here?" The question startled him out of his thoughts.

"Steve told..."

"Yes, yes, Steve told you to check on me. But why are you still here? You must be crawling to get out of here, away from me. You don't trust me, why are you so nice to me?" Nice? He wasn't being nice, what did that even mean? He had no idea why he was here, why he was forcing himself to sit here. No. Part of him knew. He tried to listen to his mind like he had learned to listen for memories like faint whispers brought by the wind.

"Steve is upstairs. He is nice, my friend, but here is better. With you, I don't have to talk." She smiled at that, quietly into her messy hair. She had a nice smile. It had him forgetting some of his anxiety at the closed room, the height, the closeness to another human, the proximity of so many people he couldn't trust. Her smile had him forgetting some of that.

"That's nice. I'm glad you're here. It helped. Thank you." Thank you. The words struck something inside of him, and he paused, trying to capture and understand that feeling.

"But still. Do you want to go? I won't make you stay." Her eyes were serious and she didn't look away. He looked down at his legs out in front of him, the knife was hidden back in his boot, and thought about that. Did he want to leave? He was constantly on edge, he preferred being alone, but he could be alone here too. And Dot was right, she was safe here. He had followed Steve and his team throughout his years in Romania, he knew what they were capable of. He could be safe here too. They could protect him, and he wouldn't have to be on the run all the time. He liked relying only on himself, it was the one thing he was good at, but just for the time being, he could stay. Collect his memories, figure out his pain, heal. Then he could still vanish. But he knew that cold logic wasn't what kept him here, kept him from following down the stairs.

"I will stay until the wounds are healed." It was one part of the truth, a truth he couldn't quite grasp and understand yet. The doctor nodded.

"That's a good idea. Then you can plan your next moves in peace. Find a good place to disappear. Would you have to learn a new language? I'd love a new language, heck, I'd learn that with you." Taking her sudden avalanche of words as proof that she really was better he got up, his body celebrating his eventual compliance, but only until he stood there and stretched out his metal arm to help her up. Surprised she looked first at the metal, then at her own hands. She smiled another one of those small smiles that seemed to come so naturally to her and took his hand. He helped her up and followed her quietly down the final flights of stairs to the floor she was sharing with the young one and the redhead. He brought her to her room and when he wanted to turn and leave, she stopped him by his metal hand.

"I... would it be okay with you to stay a few more minutes? I... I want to check Nessy's case for dirt, but I don't want to do that alone. I'm weird about it, I know. It's stupid to ask, you must be dead tired. Go back up, I'm fine." Bucky interrupted her ramblings by pushing open the door and holding it there for her. She smiled and grew slightly red around her cheeks before she slipped past his arm into her dark room. He followed, closing the door.

Despite the room only being hers for a few hours, it had something comforting about it. It still was impersonal and Dolores bet that James' room looked just like hers, but that would change. It still seemed surreal to her that this was to be her new home, like a dream she expected to fade and wake up from every second. But she knew that would settle with time. She stepped into the room to the table on which her backpack and the still bandage covered metal case was lying. She picked up the case and turned on the bedside lamp as she settled down against the headboard, the case in her lap. James followed her awkwardly, probably already regretting he had agreed to this. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, as far away from her as he could. Still, he was here. And that helped a lot. Knowing she wasn't all alone.

For a while she just sat there, staring at the case, before she could force herself to touch it.

"I've never opened it. Weird right?" Her fingers brushed the cool metal, almost expecting to feel a rush of emotions. But it was only metal. Her fingers moved to the small nub that held it closed. Her heart was racing for some reason and her hands trembled and suddenly she was too weak to pry the case open.

She flung the case from her so that it landed on the bed and hid her rapid breathing behind her hands.

"Can you do it? Just check if there's any dirt in there and if everything's okay." She could feel his questioning stare, but he didn't say anything, whether that was because he didn't know what to say or because he was watching her like a wounded unpredictable tiger, she couldn't tell, her own emotional turmoil deafening her senses. She heard the case click open, her ears picking up every sound, from the shuffling of the paper to her own heartbeat. She even though she heard James' soft breathing, but that was probably only a product of her imagination.

Eventually, a soft sound tore her out of her panicked state. James and flung the metal case back on the bed, more careful than she had.

"It's all clean. The silver pan was popped out, but nothing's broken." His voice was soft and soothing as if he was talking to a scared animal. Dolores raised her head and tried a smile. It worked somewhat and she grabbed the case to put it on the nightstand.

"You should sleep." The concern in his voice had her heart melting and the smile came much easier this time. She nodded. She had been awake for almost 24 hours and her sleep the nights before hadn't been too well either. As her mind finally caught up to her body, the exhaustion hit her full force.

"Yeah. I will," she yawned. Her tired mind drifted to her evening routine, and once more the strangeness of her situation hit her. She had nothing to change into. They probably had toothbrushes here, but she would check up on that tomorrow. Her body was unwilling to make another move, and her mind took sides with it.

"You don't have to stay here. You can go back up to Steve and sleep. It's safe here." She didn't see whether he listened to her as her eyes fell shut. Her limbs were lead and soon her mind stopped struggling and drifted into unconsciousness.