A/N: Hello! I've decided to share this story i've been currently working on on here. This is actually a repost, if you've seen this story on here a few years ago, disregard that one. This has been completely re written. For clarification purposes...the blurb, in the beginning, takes place in the Present. The "Prologue" is just back story on Bucky. You can skip to Chapter 1 if you'd like (just simply scroll past Prologue). Reading the Prologue is not essential, but might be helpful to better understand Bucky's emotions at the beginning of the story. Optional. I hope you all enjoy!

In a moment of weakness, you can't help but try to find your building on the horizon made up of glass.

You try to find the room that had been yours for the last six months; the home where he had belittled you countless of times.

But also where he'd touched your skin so softly, leaving a trail of fire and heat.

The bedroom where you had given your heart to him in your bed,

and where you thought he had given you his.

Prologue

It was 1938 in Brooklyn, when his father died. He was just twenty-one years old. He became an orphan.

Months earlier, his sister was taken away from him while he was training. He was at the same camp his father had trained at in Camp Lehigh in New Jersey. The day his father died was also the same day he had met her.

Her name was Daisy.

He was just outside the Cotton Club when she emerged from inside the Dusenberg J. She had light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She was the woman Bucky had been waiting for his entire life.

Her gown was silver. It hugged her body at just perfect places, showing off her curves gracefully. They danced that night to The Way You Look Tonight, and right after, she sipped a dirty Martini.

His hand settled for the small of her back as they danced. Later that night, they ended up in Dumbo in his cheap apartment, where they ended up sharing their first kiss.

Ella Fitzgerald's voice was playing on his record player in the background as he laid her on his bed. It was also the same night she realized he was a soldier, and that he would soon leave her behind.

They fell in love too fast, too strongly. They had only known each other for a few weeks when he proposed to her. He wished he had known it would be the last time he would see her.

He wouldn't know what he lost until seventy-six years later.

PART 1

"THE SOCIETY"

1

Year: 2021

You needed to escape The Capitol.

The tears are heavy in your throat, and it burns from the screaming and crying that you had done earlier in your room.

Your right hand opens and tightens into a fist repeatedly. Your nails cave into the skin of your palm, leaving crescent shaped indents.

You didn't think it would get this bad. Not your love for him, nor his boundless hate towards you.

Every dagger, as a word he threw your way, pained you. It hurt the same way it did when you first met him, when you first told him you loved him, and when you first fucked.

He had continued to stare at you with those cold eyes, and with that expression that he always saved just for you. You filled his soul with hate and disgust.

How could you have hoped for a change?

He had showed you nothing but antipathy, yet you couldn't pull away. You allowed yourself to believe your self-doubt, thinking he was getting better, and that he was finally changing. And you were falling for pity; he had been through so much, he just needed to heal, you told yourself.

You had continued to let him hurt you with his words, and you let him have his way with your heart and body. It was the only way you could feel him.

Call it desperation or call it love. It wasn't an obsession, nor a strange case of Stockholm Syndrome. You weren't his captive, nor his trainee. You were never tied up, and neither was he. He didn't hold you at gunpoint.

He was on the good side.

He was your partner.

You weren't forced into what you had done with each other. He would never hold it against you, knowing you went into it willingly. You and him both knew what you were capable of, and you could have stopped it. He would rather feed you to the wolves, knowing you'd do your very best to free yourself without his help. What happened wasn't a delusion. It was something else.

And you had allowed it to go on for way too long. You fell in too deep, and you think he knows.

You needed to escape The Capitol.

Keeping your head down as you walk through the howling of the city life, under the monorail and through the heavy puddles, you hear the undeniable whispering.

You had to be fast.

There's a Coroner out of your peripheral. He wore his traditional black garment, boarded by a gold essence that only the elite could afford. His hair was immaculate, but his eyes were filled with uncertain rage. For half of a second, you think your eyes meet. You're unsure, looking away as fast as you can.

The scarf on your flesh is soaking from the drizzling rain, and now you grow even more nervous. If the Leviathans or Snipers were to even spot a fraction of the tattoo on your neck, you knew you were screwed. You would be dead on the spot and given no opportunity for forgiveness or freedom.

They didn't believe in jail here. There would be no trial or interrogation; only death. The people of The Capitol watched you as you pushed through the heavy crowds of the subway, under the overpass, and out into the dense fog. You knew they were wondering if you were one of the traitors they warned the society members of.

You cursed to yourself as more strands of your hair begged to fall out of your hood, your left fingers ached and trembled as you tried to tuck it back inside. You pull the black hood over your head and you wrap your silver scarf around your lower face and neck. It had served as a protective barrier in your life before the mission. It hid your identity well.

The scarf smelled of dust mites and humidity from being packed away in your closet for the last six months. You didn't need to wear a scarf inside The Capitol. Your thin and gray top reached your upper thighs.

Your black pants were soaked against the hot skin of your thighs, and it was irritating as you walked.

You shivered, knowing that the shirt would serve you no use of protection outside of The Wall, where you soon would be again. It would not protect you against the winds, the virus, or the ongoing civil war. You would not survive.

Your long, dark gray, cotton overcoat you had harbored for the last few months in your metal getaway box felt heavy against your aching shoulders. You hadn't used it since you had to fend for yourself for survival. Dirt and grime of the outer perimeters of this place badly ripped and tainted the seams on the bottom. After months of combat fighting, stress, and other physical activities, your sore muscles were catching up with you. You had allowed yourself to reach this point.

Because of your self-loathing (not because of your enemies or because of Hydra, or because of the people that had killed your family, having caved and hollowed you) but because you loved him.

And now all you could do was give up and run.

You passed the start of the iron gates, started your Stark Tracker, and you ran and ran.

You took every secret pathway that you and Bucky had learned and dissected over the last six months; the ones you trailed together.

It didn't take long for you to reach the border of The Wall. They made the perimeter up of deep mud and it was thick around your beat-up combat boots, purposely making it harder for any trespasser to walk.

You look down at your feet and you were glad the boots were still tied on. You feel a twinge in your heart at the sudden memory that racks your brain. You had stolen them a little over a year ago off a poor girl on the side of an abandoned and looted grocery store. She had not made it. As you approached her body, it was apparent that she had been dead for days, but your feet had been unprotected for much longer. These boots have protected you, guided you.

The howling of the voices and the sound of the city were distant as you crawled towards the concrete barrier of the outside. It was massive, and it sent a shiver down your back. You slowed down your pace so the sound of the squelching mud became almost silent. There was nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the mud and the terrifying silence that you all knew that stood behind the wall. A distant howl, if you were quiet enough, maybe also a scream.

It was a wall that had protected you, protected you and Bucky, and that had given you hope for something different from what you had previously experienced. For those six months, because of this wall, there was no fathom or hunger. It kept you alive, and you had felt alive.

There had been no physical pain. It was just the two of you.

The tears burn heavy in your throat as you look back to the beautiful, yet pure evil, city that you were supposed to overthrow and destroy.

Hydra's Society.

Eligible only for the rich, privileged, and those who harbored evil and selfish acts in their hearts. Not all the society members were amoral people, which was something you had learned early on. It was a horrible thing, what Hydra had done, what they had conquered, and what they had stolen from your parents. Yet, it was beautiful.

The city comprised of tall glass towers and mesmerizing skyscrapers. A few were still under new renovations, but most were mesmerizing to the eye. Neon lights of the many signs caught the fog in the air, and you watched from afar as the hologram in the sky showed your faces, warning the people of your presence in their territory. It had a blue glow, illuminating even in the dense fog and rain.

You could hear the eery echo of the sound system and the soft hum of Neptune in the sky above, peaking through the heavy clouds. You know they are alerting their people again.

His face is there in the sky along with yours. Your eyes linger on his picture as it turns. He's gorgeous and capable of sending way too many emotions throughout your body. You were once a forceful girl with a tough skin, and a strong heart. Stubborn and rebellious. But now, you are a disgrace to even yourself.

You close your eyes tightly together as you fist your hand again, pressing your back farther into the massive concrete sheath behind you. It's cold and you feel it through the fabric of your coat. It was at least three hundred feet up into the sky, powerful enough that not even a nuke could breakthrough. You had doubted it for years, but now, feeling it behind you, you knew it wasn't just a rumor.

Your mom and dad knew what they were doing.

The heavy rain pellets felt like hard stones on your heated flesh. Your hand sizzled with that feeling: attack, revenge, avenge, love; heal. But you couldn't, not anymore. After stooping you so low, and after so many months of pure hatred and hostility, his words worked, and you allowed yourself to believe them.

You had to leave The Capitol.

Your eyes dart up towards the guarded gates at the top of the wall. You see several of the officers and Minesweepers, already on heavy patrol for the fugitives, the cowardly, the traitors - the hunt for you both.

You are afraid.

You knew your Stark Tracker could only keep you shielded for ninety seconds, which is why you had waited so long to even activate it. It was a risk you found yourself willing to take. The stupors and generals could catch you at any moment if it were to fade, but that's the least of your worries as you pull your hood higher above your head, tightening it with the scarf.

You couldn't risk being seen if the tracker were to expire too soon. Your black boots splash in the mud that cave into the wall.

With tears still running down your cheeks, you turn around one more time to watch the power that Hydra had become. Towering in beauty and made up of skyscrapers that touched the clouds.

Part of you feels guilty as you remember his touch.

He was so broken.

You try not to think about how far he had come; you both had come, because you can't let emotions cloud your judgment of what he really is. Not anymore.

He's heartless. He's... your chest grows tight.

No, no.

You had become so angry that you couldn't control your emotions any longer. It had almost cost you your cover. But you no longer cared about the mission.

This was all Bucky's mission now to complete. Without you.

Just like he always wanted.

So you ran.