A/N: More good music for this chapter/the entire story is The Courage Or The Fall by Civil Twilight.

Bucky came back late that evening, after making sure evidence of his involvement in the murder was covered up. He then found the man's apartment, and searched it, finding nothing of any interest (other than a bullet hole in the television). After checking all the surrounding areas he found no one else ready to attack them, no one else hidden in the shadows, and making sure all their neighbors were indeed simply sleeping (he had no idea how the man had handled that one, but it was true. Not one of the neighbors was harmed, or awake, or a spy), he came back. He stripped off the jacket as soon he stepped through the door.

"Cara!" He called out, walking forward. There was a streak of blood on the wall, ending in half of a hand print. He imagined her stumbling into it, her hand cut up, struggling to walk forward. It lead to her room, the door half open.

Bucky pushed his way in, eyes flitting around, and almost immediately, he saw her. She was pressed against the wall, her hands extended, palms up. Kneeling in front of her, he took the one that had been cut. Her head snapped up, and she met his gaze for a single moment, before looking away. She looked like she had been close to crying. There were still bits of glass in them, and he saw where the blood had dried dripping down her wrist. Stepping back, he walked to his room, where he kept some spare medical equipment. He had went out and bought them while Cara was at work one day, stashing it beneath his bed, hoping he would never have to use it. She hadn't moved when he got back.

"Hey," he whispered, sitting down in front of her, taking her hand. "I'm going to try and fix what I can."

She didn't answer, didn't respond, barely even reacted as he pulled out bits of glass, cleaned out the cuts, and disinfected and wrapped her palm in white gauze. She didn't make eye contact with him again, staring off at some distant place on the wall.

When he was finished, he sat down next to her, their hips and should parallel and pressed together. Without saying anything, he gently (although slightly hesitantly) wrapped his arm over her shoulder. She reacted almost instantly, pulling herself toward him, wincing slightly, curling against his chest, letting him wrap his other arm around her waist, and hold her.

"Is the bullet still..." he paused as he searched for the right word. "Working?"

She nodded. "I tried to get up. I tried to help you. Shit, it hurts."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair, and he was truly sorry. He was sorry that she had this done to her. He was sorry he couldn't stop it. "You said a doctor came to help me. Can we call them?"

"My phone," she said, waving towards the small table by the bed. "Name is Ellis."

He nodded, lifting her up, carrying her again, and setting her on the bed. Her bedside drawer was hanging open, and he caught sight of a handle of a handgun. So that's why she had come in here. She kept it in the same place he did. He pushed that to the back of his mind. Picking up her phone, he looked through her contacts.

B. Allen.

B. Banner

C. Barton

J. Constantine

Chas- call if Constantine is being difficult (he wondered what that was about. Maybe he'd ask her one of these days).

J. Diggle

M. Ellis

He called quickly, as Cara watched him. The phone rang a few times, before a slightly overwhelmed sounding voice answered.

"Hello? Cara? Listen, this might not be the best time-"

"Cara's hurt. We need help."

"What?" Ellis said. "James, is this you? What happened? Where's Cara?"

"Cara?" A second voice said. "As in Cara Cara?"

"Yes, Phil. I assume you remember Cara. Now, please continue, James."

"Someone attacked us, and shot her with some kind of bullet that acting as a paralytic. She's in pain, she's having trouble moving. I... I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."

Another voice piped up suddenly. It sounded young and feminine, with a British accent.

"What? Paralyzed her? Did it knock her out?"

"No. Who the hell are you?"

"Right, sorry. I'm Jemma. I sort of, kind of know Dr. Ellis. I can help."

He faintly heard another voice shout in the distance that they couldn't be helping random people who just broke in, but was shushed by the one Bucky was pretty sure was called Phil. He faintly wondered what Ellis had been doing, and how many people there were. He switched on speakerphone, putting it down.

"Describe what the wound looks like for me," Jemma said. He looked at Cara, who began to pull up her shirt, before wincing.

"Can you help me get this off?" She said. He nodded, gently lifting it over her head. She didn't seem at all shy about the fact that she was sitting in front of him, wearing very little on her top. All thoughts about anything that could be considered inappropriate were quickly dispersed when he saw the scar under her collarbone, and the shallow cut on her stomach. There were other scars too, smaller. And then there was the entry wound of the bullet. He nearly left right then and there, with every intention of tracking down whoever gave the man orders to do this. And he almost told himself that if he did that, it wouldn't be running away.

"It's in the center of her chest, doesn't seem that deep. There are blue marks around it that look like veins. It's bleeding slightly."

"Might be like the I.C.E.R.s, some form of dendrotoxin, perhaps combines with some sort of electrical charge, that would explain the paralytic effect, and blue appearance from where it entered the bloodstream, it basically temporarily shuts down the muscles, that's why it hurts," Jemma rambled very quickly. He could barely keep up. "It should wear off soon, but you're going to need to clean it up or run the risk of infection, would would possibly be fatal, much worse than the original injury at least. Very bad to say the least, so don't let it get infected."

"Okay," Bucky said. "And she's going to be okay?"

"Most likely."

"You can call me if she isn't improving," Ellis said. "And I will be there when I can. You take care of her, James. Promise me that you will keep her safe."

"I can hear you," Cara said, although she looked faintly amused. "I can take care of myself, Dr. Ellis. I'm not a child anymore."

"Cara. You're injured. Take the night off. Let someone else do the worrying for once."

"She'll be okay," Bucky said.

"James, can speak to you for a moment?"

He let his eyes drift to Cara, who nodded. Picking up the phone, he turned off the speaker and put it to his ear, as he walked away.

"What?" He said.

"What happened?"

"We were attacked. Cara got hurt," he repeated.

"Who were they? Were they looking for you or Cara?"

He paused. "Both," he said reluctantly.

"Tell me exactly what they said about Cara. Who is looking for her?"

"I don't know. They mentioned something called the Deathless."

There was a pause on the other end.

"James," Phil said, speaking up for the first time since asking about Cara. "I don't know who you are, but Cara seems to trust you. You need to get out. Both of you. Now."

"We can't. If we leave suddenly, they'll send in a team. I can't fight a team right now."

"Set something up so you can disappear, get out of there by the end of the week."

"Who is it?"

"Someone Cara got away from," Ellis said, speaking up again. "And if she goes back, it would kill her."

"I need to know who it is," Bucky repeated.

"I can't say. All you need to know is that if the Deathless finds her, Cara will die, alone and scared and in agony."

Bucky shut his eyes. "What do I tell her?"

"She knows it's bad. Stay with her. Watch her back."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Maverick Ellis, and Cara is the the closest thing I ever had to a daughter. You do not let her go back to that place, do you hear me?"

"Who are they, and why do they want her?"

"The Deathless is a dangerous man, a man of science and faith, reason and magic. He is insane, driven by lust for knowledge, perfection, life, death, love. And he mistakenly thinks that Cara will give him those answers. That is all I will say."

"How do you know her?"

"Not my secret. Now, if you know what's good for you, you leave it alone. Protect her. Not just from the Deathless but from herself. She can handle people fighting her, but this will have done something else entirely. Please, make sure she's okay."

Bucky was silent for a moment. "I don't think the best person-"

"I don't care. You are all she has right now. Now I have to go. By the way, I'm glad you're feeling better. Make sure that Cara is okay."

The line went dead.

Bucky was left standing there, staring at Cara's phone. He took a deep breath, slowly processing all that information, before going back to Cara. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at their hands. She didn't move when he sat down, sitting almost motionless.

"What was that about?"

"They wanted me to make sure you're okay."

She nodded slowly. "Oh."

"Are you?"

She looked up at him, giving him a forced smile that didn't meet her eyes. "I'm fine."

He gave her a hard look. "I don't believe you."

She looked away, picking at the shirt in her hands. "Can you help me?"

"Give me a second, you heard what they said about letting it get infected," he said, standing up, and going to the bathroom. After wetting one of the rags in hot water, he walked back, gently pressing it on the bullet wound, (which almost immediately stop pleading) before bandaging up both it and the gash on her stomach, and helping her pull the shirt over her head.

"Cara..."

"Please don't ask me if I'm okay."

He grabbed her hand. "This is my fault. And I'm sorry."

Her head snapped up, and she gave him a sharp look. "Don't say that."

"It is-"

"I lead him here. This is on me. I thought he was safe, I didn't think... I trusted myself. I thought I knew how to read people."

"Not these people," he said. "They aren't normal. They make a living lying and killing and hurting people."

She shut her eyes. "Not all of them."

"Yes, all of them," he snapped, and she flinched. He instantly regretted it. "Sorry. You didn't... This isn't your fault."

She was silent for a long time, eyes still closed. She opened them again, all emotions was gone. Pain, fear, anger, sadness. It looked like she had slipped on a mask.

"Are you okay?" She said, and her voice didn't waver.

"What?"

"He was hitting you... He stepped on your arm. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Been through worse."

She stared at him, emotionless. "Bucky," she said slowly. "I want to leave."

His heart felt like it stopped beating. He was nodding, only faintly aware of it. She wanted to leave, she wanted to leave him.

Stay with her. Watch her back.

How could he do that if she wanted to leave him? He couldn't disrespect that, but he couldn't let her go out there without him. And he, he wasn't sure if he could be without her.

It took him a second to process that she was still talking to him. "You'll stay with me, right?"

He looked up at her. She was staring at him expectantly. He grinned, and it was the first time that he could remember smiling this big. Her face lit up, as he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"Yes," he whispered. "Always. Of course."

"Good," she said. He leaned back.

"We can't leave yet, okay?" He said softly. "Give me a few days to set some things up, just act normally, and then we'll leave, and they'll never find us again. We'll be safe."

She nodded, smiling slightly. "What a dream that is."

"Not a just dream. We are going to to be okay."

She let her gaze drop, although her smile didn't. "You were wrong, you know. You do have a heart. Don't you ever think otherwise."

He didn't answer, gently kissing her cheek. "You should rest," he murmured. "I'll see you in the morning." As he stood up, she reached out grabbing his hand.

"Don't leave me alone," she said, and he caught a spark of panic. "Not tonight. Please. Can you stay?"

He looked back at her, and sat back down. "Alright."

"Thank you," she whispered. She moved stiffly to her spot, curling up beneath the blankets. He stared at her, not moving. "Come on. You'll freeze to death out there."

He gave a small laugh. "It takes a lot for me to freeze to death, I promise," he said, although he slid in next to her, turning off the lamp. She reached for his hand again, shutting her eyes.

"Bucky Barnes," she said, and he cold tell that she wanted to s

"Cara Fox."

"Please tell me you didn't believe anything he said. He was trying to get you angry, get you reckless, break you. That's why he shot me. When he said those things... About you being only a weapon, and a just a killer, and a monster, he knew that it would hurt you because you are the exact opposite."

"You don't know what he meant-"

"Maybe. Maybe, but I know you. And know people like him, and how they work. Those things were to make you lose yourself. And the reason it works? Because they aren't true."

Her eyes were still shut, but she was gripping his hand very tightly.

"Goodnight, Barnes."

It took him a second to remember how to speak. "Goodnight."

He lay there stiffly, turning on his back so that his metal arm was far away from her. He still held her hand with his human one. The ceiling was plain white, and as he stared at it, he could see all sorts of patterns. He felt the seconds tick by as he lay in the moonlight streaming in through the window, Cara curled at his side, sirens sounding outside, streetlamps flickering. The seconds stretched into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours, and the hours felt like an eternity. He couldn't sleep, his thoughts jumping around. All he could think about was how the man had been that close to killing Cara, and taking him back. How someone wanted Cara, and how strangers were telling him that someone was going to hurt her, and that made him scared. He remembered standing in that store, and being told that she was not all she seemed. It wasn't a mind trick. Cara was special, and he didn't know why. He thought about HYDRA, about what they would do to him, about what they would make him do, and he felt sick. He thought about walking back, swearing they would never hurt him again, and he thought about how he could make both his missions, redemption through protection and redemption through vengeance work side by side. He thought about what she had said, about not listening to the man's poisoned words.

He thought about her.

He looked at her. She was asleep, breathing deeply.

"We're going to be okay, Fox," he said, very quietly.

What he said next, he wasn't sure he had ever said it before, not like this. All he knew was that he meant it, and that he would take whatever came with it. He let the sentence simply hang there between them, while she slept, and once he had said it, he too finally surrendered to deep oblivion of sleep.

"I love you."

A/N: Well then. I don't know what that was. Was that sappy? Is sappy good? Where did the word "sappy" originate from? Was someone just looking at a tree with like carved initials on it and think "wow, that's sappy". Ack I'm really tired, I forgot what the point of this note was.

This whole "Bucky-doesn't know who Cara is" arc is going to be over pretty soon, head up, so if you want answers on who she is, and want to know what his reaction is going to be when he does eventually find out, wait a few more chapters, there is a few more things I need to set up.

I saw Ant-Man. It made me cry over an ant. I will remain true to that canon in this story.

This is like right after Season 1 of AOS, so Jemma's still there. It's like May, 2014 in this story, at the current point.

Haha, my husband's name was in this. It's like playing where's waldo, except there like a billion waldos and they're all comic characters. Find him and you win my love (jk, you all already have my love just for reading this story).