CHAPTER V

"Hey. It's just a nightmare, Al. Look at me. You're okay. Look at me."

Alvie opened her eyes as Bucky pushed her hair back from her face, metal fingers cold on her clammy skin. "What was I doing?" she asked him, still feeling scared from a dream that had already escaped her memory.

"Doesn't matter. You're okay now. What are you?"

"I'm okay," she whispered, and he kissed her. Something about the dangerous man that was Bucky Barnes made her feel safe, and she pulled herself closer to him to strengthen the feeling. "Sorry for waking you up."

He smiled crookedly, and she brushed her thumb along his narrow lips, his stubble catching on her skin. She'd missed that smile. "You can make it up to me later."

His arms went downwards, pushing away feather-soft bedsheets and wrapping around her waist. "I miss you," she said. "Oh, cherié, they made me do such a terrible thing."

"You had to do it?" Bucky asked, gaze fixed on her like she would disappear if he looked away. His eyes were the same blue-gray they had always been, the color of oiled gun metal, but they had a trace of softness in them now. A softness that she had caused. "You had to tell them where I was?"

Alvie nodded. "They would've made me common knowledge with the Accords if I didn't, and then HYDRA'll find me in a heartbeat. There's about a dozen heads now, none of them know the others exist, but they're everywhere. And they'll all find out about me."

"You're playing their game," Bucky said, moving his weight so that he was on top of her. "Acting how they want you to."

"You sound like that Mouse woman," she mumbled, "going on about doing as the Romans would. It doesn't feel like I'm in Rome, Bucky. It feels like I'm in Wonderland, and I'm Alice. I don't have a clue."

"Then don't play," he said, and kissed her again. "You wouldn't be the only one."

"What – just leave?" she asked dubiously. "Bucky, I can't. I can't turn my back on this, not now. Not without you. You know I can't, you know me."

"Better than anyone," he murmured. His next kiss sent fire speeding from her lips straight into the pit of her stomach, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I know you don't think like they do. So don't act like you're one of them, Al. You're not. That's why I love you."

"But you're just a dream," she breathed. He sat up and pulled her into his lap in one fluid movement, holding her waist with one arm and hooking the other round her back and over her shoulder. God, he was beautiful. So broken, and so perfect. "Dreams don't count."

Then wake up, a rough voice said in her head, even as Bucky's mouth was otherwise engaged. It'll be okay. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, kissing with a ferocity that came from not needing to breathe. She was in a dream, after all. She could do whatever the hell she wanted, and what she wanted to do was him.

The metal of her arm had heated from the warmth of her skin, now, and it gripped her so tightly it almost hurt. She did not close her eyes; she took every moment she could to drink in his features, unreal as they were.

I love you.

"I love you," Alvie echoed, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

You'll be okay.

She woke up with a yelp, grasping at the cold floorboards of the attic. I'm alone, she told herself, wrapping her arms around her torso. It was just a dream. I'll be okay. Bucky... Bucky's in Berlin. He's not here. It was freezing up there – she realised she had left the bottom portion of the circular window open, so now the cold night air had crept in and settled like frost over everything.

Thanks, dream boyfriend who I've got into a total shitstorm. Alvie rubbed her eyes and groaned. Still, at least it was a nice dream, not a nightmare. She didn't get nightmares often, thank God; no, Bucky always had more than enough for the both of them. Alvie supposed she had that to be grateful for. She remembered one of his with a shudder…

"Tell me," she said quietly. It was their second night in Brooklyn, and they were sleeping on cold floorboards. "Tell me what happened. Who was it this time?"

For once, Bucky didn't argue. "They called 'em search and destroys," he said, sat upright with his elbows on his knees and staring, not at her, but at the peeling wallpaper. "They give me an address, I eliminate everyone inside of it. No questions, no exceptions. It was an embassy, I think. American names in Zagreb. I go in there at one in the morning and shoot him where he's sleeping in the chair by the fire. The wife was hiding – she came up behind me with a kitchen knife."

Alvie watched Bucky as, while speaking, he traced a floor plan into the dust of the apartment with his finger. It was startling, how well he could remember it. He put a cross through the dot that had been in the kitchen, and dragged his finger over to the staircase. It was his metal index, and it left grooves in the floorboard.

"I go upstairs," he said, "they didn't mention anyone else – they didn't give me anything, no number of residents, only an address – and check the other rooms. The servants were out. I didn't need to worry about them." He traced another floor plan, and drew a line up the hallway to the farthest room. "I go inside. And the walls are blue, and there's… there's race cars on them. And a night light. Still turned on."

"What did you do?"

Bucky shook his head, and bit down on the back of his wrist. He was crying, Alvie saw – his eyes were too bright, his shoulders tensed to stop them shaking. "Why'd you make me tell you?"

"Because once you tell someone your nightmares, they go away," she explained, not wanting to touch him. She knew he hated to show weakness – better for both of them if they ignored that elephant in the room. "I wanna help. If I can help them stop haunting you, then…"

"We'd run out of nights before I ran out of nightmares," Bucky said, and Alvie pretended to look away as he wiped his eyes.

"But I'm still not letting you go through this alone."

Yes – it wasn't much fun to be Alvie Kennings right now, but at least she wasn't Bucky Barnes.

That doesn't make me feel much better. Rubbing her eyes, she checked the avalanche of messages that had been sent to Athena in the last 48 hours. Most of them were from people who had heard she was trying to find Bucky and, having not heard he was already secured, were trying to "help"; she trashed them and moved onto the more immediately concerning ones.

One new message from: Tony Stark

"Nice work, Acid Burn. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Oh, dear. She could sense the sarcasm radiating off of the message, and Tony only ever used nicknames when he was annoyed with someone or, in this case, blinded with rage.

You'd better watch your back, Bucky Barnes. I'm not sure I can protect it for much longer.

A/N this act was written while listening to (as well as Prince and Bowie, naturally) Amanda Palmer's Theatre Is Evil and Beyoncé's Lemonade on repeat, and honestly there is no better soundtrack for writing the hot, badass, completely bonkers mess that is Alvie Kennings.