Regaining consciousness was slow, like an aged vinyl record player starting up after years of disuse. Everything was sluggish, distorted. The first thing that pierced through the haze was the scent of freshly cleaned linens. That subtle but familiar smell of warm, recently-washed cotton splattered images across my mind. The summer breeze fluttering through the open window to rustle the sheets while Mom made breakfast downstairs. Melty chocolate chip cookies for breakfast in bed on Christmas morning, a tradition Dad and I had...

I've got you.

I physically jerked as more of my mind jump-started awake. The memory of scorching heat, pain fracturing across my shoulder like shattering glass, furious, winter-blue eyes freezing me in place.

James.

Opening my eyes was almost an overwhelming amount of effort, and I was startled to find myself buried into what I expected to be the comfiest pillow I had ever had the privilege of drooling on. Feathers no doubt. The royal blue sheet under my bandaged hand sent unease blossoming into my chest, this was... fancy? Where the fuck was I? Shifting to sit up, I found that with each minimal movement, dull aches made themselves known all over my body, making each movement uncomfortable and stiff.

I was in a large, plush, king sized bed. The pillowcases and sheets a royal, pristine, blue. The down-feathered-comforter a pure unblemished ivory. The ornate dark-wood frame was beautifully carved, a forest scene carefully designed into the strong headboard, each detail impeccable and awe-inspiring.

You can't sleep, understand me?

Turning my attention away from the bed, I glanced around at what used to be an immaculately furnished bedroom. The wallpaper, once beautifully printed with a base white and a silver repetitive pattern was now ripped in several places and littered with fist-sized holes. The destruction didn't stop there, what I was guessing used to be two end tables were now splintered across the floor, making the otherwise spotless white carpet appear messy and chaotic. The disarray continued across the room against the far wall. Brand new, black dufflebags sat carelessly, filled to the brim with supplies that I had long since gotten used to seeing.

Shifting my gaze to the matching royal-blue decorative rug, I met the worst of the mess. What was supposed to be a cute set-up of twin accent chairs and a lounge table, was now just a scene of unkempt madness. One of the accent chairs had been positively destroyed, it's remains strewn all over the place. Loose pieces of white paper were thrown all across the rug, some with splotches of red obscuring the print. In the center, were two open journals that were too difficult to make out across the dimly-lit room. The lounge table had been shoved to the side and now had various gun pieces and ammo strewn across it's surface. Scratches and jagged grooves had been cut into the surface by what I guessed had been a knife of some sorts.

Turning my attention, I locked onto the most chaotic fixture of the entire room.

Bucky.

He was hunched over in the mostly-intact accent chair, his shoulders tense as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His normal arm crossing in front of him to grip onto his metal bicep tightly, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. The air around him was ominous and foreboding, his dark hair was drawn like a curtain, obscuring his face from my view.

He was dressed tactically instead of casually, which had been his usual lately. The deep black of his tactical pants contrasting with the rest of the room. His black t-shirt stretched tightly across him, showcasing each sinful, dangerous muscle. There was a black leather, one-armed vest thrown off to the side, but there were no guns strapped to the webbing of his clothes. I could only see the hilts of a few knives, calculatedly placed on his person. Bucky wasn't a person to ever be unarmed.. not completely at least.

The unsettling vibe of the situation wasn't lost on me. Why hadn't he turned to look at me, or even come over? For that matter, why hadn't he said anything yet? He normally heard me wake before I was even fully coherent.. That was just who he was.

And now here he was, seemingly oblivious to my presence in general. Everything about his body language, even from across the room seemed wrong.. off somehow.

"James?" My voice was rough and dry from disuse, and it almost seemed unwelcome in the overly quiet bedroom.

He didn't move, didn't even acknowledge me in his usual way of a grunt or a look. Just.. nothing.

Ignoring the protests of my aching body, I shifted the covers enough to climb out of their warmth. I realized quite suddenly that he had changed my clothes at some point. I could feel the blush staining my cheeks as I looked down at my attire.. or lack thereof.

I was wearing an oversized black t-shirt, too oversized to be meant for me. It hung off one shoulder when I stood up and ended mid-thigh. Realization dawned on me, this had to be a shirt he had picked for himself? Throwing a quick glance over to where the dufflebags sat against the wall I felt confusion swirl around in my brain. I could see clothing that was obviously meant for me.. meaning he had replaced what he lost in the explosion?

But then.. why did he dress me in one of his shirts?

Somehow my cheeks felt hotter than before.

Reaching down, I confirmed what I was already suspicious of - I was in a new set of black panties as well and he hadn't bothered with a bra. Alright... so... he had changed all of my clothes.. I could handle that, totally. Yep. This is fine, I'm fine. My racing heart informed me that I was a liar, and I was flustered as all hell.

Pushing it to the back of my mind I focused on the goal at hand, figuring out what was wrong with James. A no doubt, stressful and probably dangerous mission. I so could do this! Who cares that I had been unconscious for fuck knows how long, I could handle a grumpy Winter Soldier, I had tons of practice already.

Moving forward, I weaved through the debris, taking care not to step on any wood or paper as I made my way across the room. I really didn't need a splinter or a paper cut right now, that would not be helpful.

James didn't move even a fraction of an inch as I approached him, it just made me that much more concerned... I could feel my heart beginning to grow heavy in my chest, despite my attempt at lighthearted musing, something was definitely wrong.

I shot a few quick looks down at the journals as I passed them, one seemed to be filled with nothing but information on Hydra.. the other.. Well, the other seemed to be filled with nothing but memories of Steve and myself. That's what I got from the two pages that were open anyways... Why was he writing down his memories now? What had changed? I would have noticed that kind of habit before.. This was definitely a new thing for him.

Nothing was making sense... What had happened after the explosion? Why was he being so unusual? What had happened when I passed out the day? Was he simply upset about what happened? Or did it go deeper than that?

The closer I got, the more I could pick up on what I hadn't before. The metal arm he was gripping oh so tightly with his normal arm seemed to be twitching and malfunctioning worse than before. Even as he clenched his fingers harshly into a fist, still it trembled and jerked out of his control. That wasn't all either, he was mumbling under his breath in another language. I frowned as I concentrated on the words.. he had spoken that language before.. hadn't he?

Of course! Back when he had horrible, vicious nightmares! He had told me before that it was Russian he spoke during the majority of his nightmares..

Dread pooled in my stomach.

But, he was awake..? Bucky had never spoken Russian or, hell, any other foreign language while he was awake. Not in front of me at least.

Swallowing hard I moved around to the front of the accent chair he was slumped in, still he didn't stir.

"James?" I tried again.

Nothing.

Crouching down in front of him, I found his gaze drilling holes in the wall.. It was like he didn't even notice I was there.. He just kept mumbling in Russian, his expression vacant and cold. I felt my heart twist and my stomach drop. Swallowing hard, I reached out with a surprisingly steady hand to touch his right knee - the one lacking the glitching, lethal metal arm braced on it.

His eyes swiveled to mine so fast it was almost startling, his muttering instantly quieted. His eyes had darkened as he looked me dead on, not saying anything. It almost seemed like he was seeing through me... The look was familiar for some reason, and I found myself searching frantically in my brain for the answer. For some reason, I needed to know what it reminded me of, it was vitally important.

A light-bulb went off in my brain.

The day we met... back in the alley!

Oh... fucking hell. This wasn't good.

Ignoring the twinge of fear that had worked up my spine, I squared my shoulders and moved more into his personal space, he didn't protest.

"What's wrong?" It was the only thing I could think to ask, the only way that I'd get to the bottom of this shit. I knew that it probably lead down an ugly street.. that's just how things went when he bottled up his emotions. And from the look of the room, he was certainly feeling a lot under that cool, indifferent, mask of his.

I was almost afraid he wouldn't answer me, just go on ignoring everything, but he didn't.

"I almost got you killed." Came the deadpan rumble, his words biting. The only noticeably nice shift in his demeanor was that he was actually looking at me now, not just staring at me as if I was a fucking ghost.

Shock registered first.. What? How did he.. I was the one that almost got us killed.

"What?" I blurted the question abruptly, too stunned to think of a better response.

How the hell did he think that was his fault?! It was clearly my fault?! The fact that he wasn't snarling in my face about it right now was actually kind of surprising.

"Ever since we got to Europe, there's been one attempt on your life after another. This time.. if I had been just a second later.." He clenched his teeth and bared them in a rabid snarl that had me rocking backwards on the balls of my feet just slightly. My body instinctively recognizing the change to 'predator' in the way he carried himself. "I ignored my instincts." He finished, his voice barely more than a feral growl.

I needed to reason with him, this wasn't his fault. He was being way too hard on himself for this. It wasn't like this was my first near death experience or anything, I had been having them way before he came into my life.

"Everyone lets their guard down sometimes,-"

The irony of what I was doing wasn't lost on me... I was easier on James than I was myself..

"No!" His words were frigid, spine-chilling, and worst of all, heart wrenching. His face was painted in a furious snarl as he abruptly stood up, hooking his metal arm under the chair to grip and then flinging it to the side dangerously. It cartwheeled off faster than I could follow, slamming into the wall. Some pieces stuck into the ruined wallpaper and drywall, while others went flying in every direction. I couldn't help but flinch at the noise. Raising to my feet quickly, I met his furious gaze as he stared down at me.

"If I let my guard down, you die!" He was positively ferocious as he snarled in my face, towering over me. I felt small standing in front of him while he raged. His chest was heaving with suppressed violence, his eyes dark and stormy. He looked every bit as lethal as he normally did, but somehow standing in nothing but his t-shirt made it feel a bit different. Still, I couldn't just let him spin out of control like this. This wasn't his fault, not at all! He was doing the best he could! Plus, he was freaking out about something that hadn't happened, I wasn't dead, dammit!

"James," I started slowly, It was difficult to keep my anger in check, it always seemed to rise up when his did. You need to be reasonable right now, Katarina. You can do this. "I'm fine,- "

"Don't you dare!"

My own anger went boiling over.

"But I am fine! I am standing right here!" I snarled, clenching my fists. "I'm not dead, James! I survived, because of you!" I shouldn't have yelled, I knew that, but I just couldn't help it. Every time he got like this, we always ended up in a screaming match... If we had anything in common, it was definitely the way we responded to feelings of anger.

Silence.

He glared down at me, not moving and not wavering. His stare was practically searing holes into my face as he stared down his nose at me. I could see the gears turning in his brain, could see him calculating what to say or do next. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he shut his eyes tightly. A technique I recognized easily at this point - he did it to try and gain control of himself, of the more instinctual, primal parts of his being.

"I let myself get distracted." His tone was softer this time, it was definitely still rough around the edges, but he had obviously gained a sliver of self-control. My control however...

"Distracted?" His words twisted and tangled around in my brain, like an overgrown rosebush with too many thorns. "Distracted by what?" My rage spiked, I was seeing red. "Me?!" He was blaming me now?! For letting himself feel for me?! Out of all the the things to blame me for, that was the one that I wasn't okay with! He could blame me for the shit at the store, he could blame me for approaching that clock by myself when I knew something was wrong, but this?! "So it's all my fault now?! Well then, guess I should be glad that you're at least done blaming yourself! For fucks sake, so sorry that I distract Mr. Perfect-Super-Soldier by being an imperfect, flawed, fragile little human!" I sucked in a breath as I continued on my enraged rant full of my own insecurities. "If I'm such a god damn distraction, maybe you should-"

His expression was twisting in anger, I could see it plain as day, could see the snarl come back full force, but I couldn't seem to shut up. Couldn't stop the toxic words from flowing out of my mouth and poisoning the air.

He lunged forward abruptly, his hands grasping onto either side of my waist in a bruising hold, his fingers digging in harshly. I shrieked as he quite suddenly picked me up off of the ground, my weight nothing to him. In less than a micro-second, I was airborne, flying backwards across the room. My brain just couldn't seem to catch up with what was happening until I landed and bounced back on the bed I had woken up on - safe and sound, except for my nerves.

I didn't have anytime to get my bearings before he was on me, silencing me with ease. With one leg braced off the side of the bed onto the floor, he bent the other so his knee rested next to my thigh on the bed. His normal hand covered my mouth, stifling more irate shrieking, his thumb digging into the my right cheek while his other fingers rested on the opposite cheek. With a quick flick of my eyes, I realized his metal hand was braced on the headboard above me, supporting his weight as his fingers dented and splintered into the wood, taking the brunt of his furious emotions.

"You're not going anywhere!" He snapped maliciously, staring me down. His voice was coarse and low, more of a rumble than anything. "Remove that thought from your pretty little head." Somehow the nicely painted words were more venomous than endearing. "You're mine! My girl! Mine to protect from Hydra, the Avengers, from the world, and even yourself!" The possessive twinge to him was surging forward, enveloping the air around us.

He growled suddenly and clenched his teeth tightly, shutting his eyes as he did so. Sucking in a deep breath he visibly shook above me, leaving me with nothing to do but watch him. The absolute rage rolling off of him right now was suffocating.. and yet, I was trembling.. Not just because of that, but for another reason entirely. My body had the worst timing, and it was a traitorous bastard.

"Tell me you understand? Nod your head." His words had regained that softer tone, but this time they seemed to be almost coated with a desperate plea. He needed this... He needed to hear himself say it, needed me to agree.

I nodded slowly, not taking my eyes off of his face for a moment. He had let his stubble get a bit out of hand I realized, and his hair.. it's all tangled up..

I was met with a typhoon of emotions when he opened his eyes, there were so many things swirling in those blue depths, I couldn't keep up. Taking another calculated and controlled breath above me, he continued.

"You almost died because of my mistake. Mine! Not yours!" His voice raised slightly, gaining a malicious tone of self-loathing, the headboard cracked above me under the force of his grip. "I tried so hard to be the man I once was, a man who is worthy of you.." In that moment, his eyes looked sadder than I had ever seen them before... as if he was resigning himself...

The cold crept back into those sapphire depths, freezing it all away.

"But I'm not that man anymore, I haven't been in a very long time. You deserve far better.." He clenched his teeth again, that tick in his jaw showing for a moment. "You're too good... So incredibly good." His tone shifted again, gaining a more decisive, hard edge, almost icy. His mood swings were out of control right now. "I won't let anyone else have you, won't let anyone even entertain the idea of taking you from me. Hydra has painted a target on your back, Katarina. I'm going to kill them. Every last one.. For you."

His words, while chilling, were comforting too.. and I knew it was because I was fucked up and broken. Something had been damaged inside me.. Had it happened when I was younger? Or had I been born like this? Why didn't his words upset me? Shouldn't they? Wouldn't that be a normal response to the promise of mass murder?

It's Hydra, they're the bad guys... Not James.

Instead, I was.. happy. Happy that he was telling me what was going on in that complicated, amazing brain of his. Maybe Bucky had been right, maybe we were always meant to cross paths.. Two broken and damaged people like us... destined to try and fix each other.

Damn.

I'm in love with him.

It's fucked up, and it's wrong on so many different levels.. I know this, I do.. But I don't care.

I am madly, and dangerously in love with James Buchanan Barnes.. a man that shouldn't be alive right now, a man that's broken and fractured, a man that had tons of pieces of himself taken away and replaced with that of The Winter Soldier. A man that's not only unstable, but complicated, and sometimes.. terrifying.

My heart thundered against my rib-cage, threatening to break right out of my chest for him to see.

His head tipped to the side as the silence stretched between us, was he listening to my heartbeat? Was it telling him what I had just realized? His gaze while still dark, softened slightly.

"Tell me you accept it, doll." That old Brooklyn accent was back on his tongue, flowing over his words. He wasn't looking at me anymore, instead staring at the assumed wreckage that he had created in the ornate headboard.

I knew the 'it' he was referring to was his declaration to single-handedly take down the rest of Hydra. Slowly, he removed his hand from my mouth, moving it to rest next to my head on the plush mattress. My emotions were swirling around in my chest and my brain felt like a whirlwind, I was feeling too much, far too much right now. I wasn't sure if it was the lingering concussion from the explosion, or if he just had this type of effect on me, but I couldn't lie to him... Couldn't even bring myself to give a less revealing answer. We were past that type of shit anyway, weren't we?

"I accept you." I muttered quietly.

His eyes snapped to mine, and for a moment I realized he was surprised. But why? Didn't he understand that I felt just as strongly about him? Did he forget that I was nothing more than a ridiculous, flustered schoolgirl in his presence? Did he forget everything that I had said to him up to this point? Had me being unconscious for what I assumed to be a few days made him that insecure about how much I cared.. how much I trusted him?

He surged down suddenly, finding my lips with the utmost ease as he fused our mouths together in a bruising and oh-so-wonderful kiss. I was instantly lost in it, my brain flat-lining. His warm hand moved off the bed to cradle the side of my face as he expertly moved his mouth over mine in a memorized age-old dance. He nipped harshly on my bottom lip and soothed it with his tongue when I whimpered against his mouth. Pulling away seemed to be a hard feat for him, and by the way he shook again, I could tell it took a significant amount of effort for him to do so.

His gaze was heated and sinful, full of dark promises outside his normal of 'murder everything'.

"Thank you." It was just a short, whispered sentence, but it caused my heart to clench in response.

I knew that things weren't perfect, hell, I knew our problems weren't even resolved. I wasn't stupid. Something had shifted inside of James while I was out... and while I ached physically, he ached both mentally and emotionally. But for now.. things were okay with us.. and that's all that mattered right now.

This chapter is dedicated to gamerchic, and ObsidianPhantom, both who are going through a tough time and need a bit of a pick-me-up. I adore the both of you, get better soon!

So, I wanted to get this chapter out to you guys days ago, but alas.. things have been hectic! It's cosplay season for me, and I'm doing something I've never done before: Foam Armor.. and it's a fucking process lemme tell you. Combine that with the fact that my birthday is Saturday and I've just been non-stop busy, things have just been crazy. I appreciate all of you that have been patient and understanding with me though. After cosplay prep, and the actual con, I'll have a lot more time for this story.

Now, I hope I edited this chapter well enough that you guys enjoy it.. My brain has just felt dead from all this cosplay mess so editing this chapter up was a bit of a struggle, so I really, really hope you guys love it. Cause at this point, I've stared at it so long that I'm having a bitter-sweet relationship with it, haha.

As it is, this chapter was a bit of a challenge for the simple fact is Katarina is a mess after the concussion, and Bucky? Yeah, he's way more than a mess - he's a bit off the deep end at this point... Days, and I do mean DAYS without Katarina(she was out for a while), they weren't good for him. It's clear at this point that Katarina is what grounds James, helps him stay in control, helps him be himself. So neither of them were one hundred percent during this chapter, both of them blame themselves for shit they shouldn't. And yeah, they are both very fucked up. But like I told you guys before, they won't always be alone.. they'll grow - together, with some help of course. But hey, we got to see some very, very vulnerable and honest James in this chapter! (Winky-face)

Anywho, thanks again for everyone who has been patient with me while I go crazy over cosplay! It means the world to me that you guys are so supportive and wonderful! Now, I'm going to shower and head to bed and hopefully get rid of this horrible migraine. Read and Review, until next time my lovelies! ~