A/N: WARNING WARNING WARNING PLS READ THIS FIRST. Hey so, this chapter is kind of dark. I don't think I ever delve too deep into anything that can truly trigger a reader of mine, but compared to the other chapters this is probably the darkest chapter (so far). Themes of self-blame, a little self-hatred, PTSD, anxiety attacks, mentions of injuries and blood (light), and in general if you've ever suffered from just terrible nightmares know that this entire chapter is centered around that.

Okay. Read on, my friends.


Chapter #24:

There's Nothing in My Closet, but Something Evil in My Head


"The monsters in your head

are frightening for the very same reason

everyone believe they should not be,

they aren't real,

because day in and day out

you must live with the knowledge

that your own mind is working against you,

whispering dark things in the middle of the night,

disobeying your desperate cries to stop,

your own mind is a murderous adversary,

an enemy under your own skin,

and nothing is quite so terrifying."

–Beau Taplin (the monsters in your head.)


"Clint?" I called out while stepping off the elevator onto the penthouse floor. The archer had texted me a couple minutes ago, asking where I was, and then disappeared on me. There was a 20% chance this was some elaborate prank he had planned out that I'd be pissed about, but there was an 80% chance he had his arm stuck between the wall and the stove. Again. I sighed and moved toward the kitchen, "I swear to God, Clint, I've told you this before, if you get your phone stuck behind a kitchen appliance just—"

I turned around the corner of the wall, the one separating the kitchen from the living space, and my fuzzy socks immediately stepped into a warm, thick puddle. My eyes slowly drifted down, curious and confused, to find my Captain America themed socks standing in a rather large puddle of blood. The soft material absorbed the blood a little too well. I took a few shaky, heavy steps, leaving bloody footprints as I went, and lifted my gaze. There, right on the kitchen island, Clint laid on his back unmoving and limp. His throat was a mess of bloody cuts and gashes, and his eyes were cloudy, blank, and unseeing.

Bile rose in my throat and the room began to tilt.

"There you are." A familiar face stepped into my line of vision. Boss was wiping the blood off a kitchen knife with a white handkerchief. He gave me a sick, excited grin. "I've been looking for you, pet. Shame what happened to the Hawk." Boss gave me a small nod and shrug. "It is your fault though."

Clint suddenly turned to face me. His eyes still dead, and thick blood sprayed from his throat when he spoke, "He's right. It's your fucking fault."

I was screaming.

I was screaming.

I was screaming.

JARVIS was saying something, I was vaguely aware of his voice, but nothing registered. All I heard was my own ragged voice, all I smelled was Clint's thick blood, and all I saw was the cold, darkness in Boss' eyes. People raced into my room. The lights were on and there were hands on me, hands trying to bring me comfort, but I was trapped in my own mind.

This was the first nightmare I've had this year, and I knew that Boss escaping prison less than 48 hours ago wasn't just a fun coincidence.

Just like I knew, I knew, that this was only the start.


It was early in the morning, maybe a little past 3, and Tony was still tinkering. His sleeping habits had always been shit, but the stress of the last few days hadn't helped. Fucking Eugene fucking Morgan had slipped from containment and Aj was suffering. It seemed like anytime she laid down to rest she was plagued by a new nightmare. Her nights were spent in terror, and her days were spent drifting around the Tower like a ghost. A shadow of who she was. The only thing she showed any fire toward was when she boxed with a bag on the training floor, but they couldn't even let her do that for very long either. The first day they left her alone with it, Steve had gone down to find her with busted, bloody knuckles and no desire to stop.

Tony twisted the weapon in his hands. Natasha's 'widow bites' needed no further work, but he had already updated every other bit of gear. The others put their energy into trying to find the guy who caused all this and, just like with Tony, their distraction yielded no real results.

"Sir—"

Tony was moving before JARVIS even finished his sentence. It was like clockwork. He was surprised she had even lasted this long. He slid into the elevator and JARVIS took him down double speed. Before the doors even opened, Tony could hear her screaming. That was one of the worst parts. It wasn't even a startled scream or a scream of fright. Aj was screaming bloody murder. She was screaming like someone was tearing her into shreds. She screamed until her voice grew hoarse and then screamed even more.

"Aj!" Tony called out when he ran into her room. He hoped his voice would start to calm her, but she probably couldn't even hear it over her own cries. Aj was thrashing in bed, her eyes shut tightly as tears streamed down her exhausted features. Tony threw himself onto the side of her bed and grabbed her. There was grease on his hands, on his arms, but he didn't give a damn. He cupped the side of her neck with one hand and held her opposite shoulder, "Aj! Aj, you need to wake up! Aj!"

Her eyes snapped open. Blue eyes were blown wide with fear, and even though she was looking right at him it was like he wasn't even there. Tony squeezed her shoulder, "It was a nightmare. It was a nightmare, Aj. It wasn't real. You're safe. Everyone is okay."

Then the dam broke. Her eyes filled with more tears, Aj's focus was on him, and he didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms. Aj held him tightly, like he was her only rope to reality, and Tony clung to her all the same. He knew what nightmares could bring. He could still, in detail, remember the nightmares that plagued him for months after the Ten Rings kidnapped him and held him in a cave against his will. Dreams of spraying blood, dying soldiers, hands clawing into his chest leaving it in ribbons of skin and muscle, and Yensid's dying face. Dreams he'd wake up from, in the dark all alone, sobbing as JARVIS tried to calm him down with voice only. The ones from after the Battle of New York had been just as bad, the freezing cold of space, the helpless dread in the pit of his stomach at the sight of a legion of enemies, the sensation of free falling into more nothing… but at least he had Pepper then. He'd jolt awake and Pepper would hold him tightly until he fell into a softer, calmer sleep.

Tony remembered very clearly how waking up alone from a nightmare was almost as bad as the nightmare itself, and he would never, ever, let Aj try to deal with this alone like he had been forced to once upon a time.

"You're ok. You're ok." Tony mumbled tenderly along with various other reassurances.

"He killed her. He killed Nat. He kept just carving—carving into her and I couldn't—I couldn't stop him." Aj sobbed. Her words were separated with hiccups and desperate gasps for air.

Tony shifted so he was lying down on her bed and brought Aj down with him so her head was lying on his chest. He comfortingly rubbed her back, "She's ok. Nat is just fine. Let's be real, nothing could kill her. The Grim Reaper's a little spooked by her even."

Aj didn't chuckle at his joke, but he could feel her shaking body begin to calm. This was usually how it went. Aj would try to stay awake for as long as possible, too scared to close her eyes, but she'd fail at her goal due to the exhaustion of the restless night before. She'd finally pass out for a couple of hours only for a new round of nightmares to wake her up. One of them, they took turns now, would come down to comfort her and stay with her for the rest of her restless night. From that point, Aj would toss and turn and have another handful of night terrors before the morning sun came.

She was too proud to just spend the night in someone else's apartment, and in the morning she'd be embarrassed by the night's outcomes despite them telling her over and over and over again that she didn't need to be.

It had become the Tower's new routine.

Tony heard Aj's breaths even out as she fell asleep. He'd probably have a good twenty minutes before she was up again. He sighed and continued to trace his fingers against her back in a repeating pattern. Tony stared up at the ceiling and imagined the ways he'd love to rip fucking Eugene fucking Morgan to absolute shreds, piece by fucking piece.


Aj looked ill. A complete week of nightmares could do that to a person though. She had dark bags under her eyes and her usually healthy, tan skin looked pale and sickly. Her dark hair was freshly washed and pulled back into a tight braid, but apparently the shower she had taken hadn't refreshed her at all. Her usually vibrant blue eyes looked hollow and lifeless.

Sam hated it.

"Just two lunch specials." He said quietly to the waitress who then took their menus and left them with their coffees. Aj had been chugging coffee since the night terrors began in hopes that it could replace her sleep. That hadn't helped much either. "Aj?"

Her eyes drifted away from the large window they sat beside to look at him. She let out a tired sigh and weakly shook her head, "I don't know how good my company will be today, Sam."

"It's ok. I just wanted to check in with you. The others…"

"They're worried." Aj whispered, disappointment filling her crumpled features. "I know. I don't want to make them worry, but the dreams won't…"

Sam shook his head, "Worrying is what the Avengers do best. Right next to bullying me." Aj gave him a small smile at the joke. He shook his head, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Her eyes snapped back to the window when a car horn went off. Aj's shoulders were stiff and tight as her gaze traced the entire scene outside. She was hypervigilant these days. Natasha told him that she walked around the Tower expecting someone to jump out from around a corner to attack. Sitting by the window hadn't been the greatest idea, but it was the only table the café had available right now. Sam knew she liked the food here, it had her favorite sandwich, and the poor girl desperately needed to eat something.

"Talk about the nightmares?" Aj finally turned her attention to him.

Sam shrugged and laced his fingers together in front of him, "Anything you wanna talk about, honey."

Aj rolled this around in her head before she spoke, "These nightmares have been different. I've always had bad dreams. They got better when I moved into the Tower but still…" She glanced out the window. "They were always about me. Me turning into the monster I know I am deep down."

"Aj—" Sam tried to argue.

She kept going like she hadn't even heard him, a distant look in her eyes, "The nightmares would be about my blood lust and I'd do terrible things but—but these new dreams…" Aj's hands began to shake and Sam watched as she wrapped them around her warm mug in an attempt to try and still them. She lowered her watery gaze to the coffee in it, "He's killing the people I love most, ripping them from me in the most brutalways he could, and I can never stop him. I'm never enough. He just—he just kills y'all and I'm left standing in the blood knowing it's all my fault."

"Aj, that is never going to happen, and nothing is your fault." Sam said firmly.

Aj's eyes suddenly snapped up to meet his, "Sam, he's going to kill me. I know it. I feel it in my gut, and my gut is never wrong about that. Boss is going to kill me."

"He's not—"

"He is." Aj interrupted and Sam was startled by how matter of fact and plainly she said the words. The young woman truly believed every word she said on the matter. She shook her head once, "He's going to kill me and I am just prayingbegging… any entity that's up there, that he'll leave y'all alone once he's done."

Sam reached his hand across the table and pulled her hand away from the mug to grip it tightly. He didn't let his eyes waver from hers, "Aj, he is not going to touch you. Not on our watch. The way you feel right now… it's the nightmares. They take a toll on your mind, convince you of terrible, awful things. Sometimes our own subconscious is our worst enemy."

He sighed, "I used to have this reoccurring nightmare. You remember my wingman Riley?" Aj nodded once. "Every time I closed my eyes, I'd watch him fall out of the sky again and again." Sam could still feel the cold night air, the smell of smoke, the heat from the came from the RPG that hit Riley dead on. Sam could still picture, in vivid detail, the look of panic on Riley's features, lit up from the burning of his gear, as he spiraled to the Earth. The last look he saw on his friend's face. God had put him up in the air to watch uselessly as Riley fell, and the front row seat to the disaster left Sam with a crystal clear memory of it all. "Sometimes, I still have the dream. Sometimes, it isn't even Riley up in the air with me. I'll watch Steve or Nat fall out of the sky into the darkness." Sam squeezed her hand. "Our nightmares take our deepest, darkest fear and force us to walk through it. That doesn't make any of it our fault though. It doesn't make it the truth."

The food came and they sat in silence while eating. Sam watched as she picked at her sandwich, only taking a few bites in total but downing two more full cups of coffee. Aj's appetite had been basically nonexistent since this all began. Bruce was concerned about her beginning to lose weight.

"We're going to find him, put an end to him—" Sam said firmly. "—and we're all gonna be just fine doing it. You included."

Aj leaned forward against the table, "I spent five years with him. Just five. Felt like a million." She kept her gaze away from his. "And I think… I think the only reason I survived was because I—I disconnected. I hadto. For most of that time, I just drifted through life. If I was too present, then I'd suffer. It was better to just live in the back of my head and let my body run on auto-pilot."

Sam nodded, "Disassociation is our mind's way of protecting itself."

"Towards the end there, I was getting tired. I was so fucking tired. I think I was really close to just… to just disappearing entirely." Aj slowly brought her gaze back up to his. There was a spark of life in her hollow eyes, but it was a burning ember of absolute horror. "Y'all brought me back, and I'm finally alive and I finally have a future… but—"

"Aj?"

"Sam, I can't disappear again. I can't go back there." The tears that had been building up in the corner of her eyes finally fell and dripped down her cheeks. "When I say that Boss is going to kill me, it's the best case scenario because… I won't—I can't survive another five years, Sam. I can't. I can't."

Sam felt his heart break for her. His entire body, his entire soul, ached in pain for her. What do you say to someone who thinks death is the better of two options?


She was gasping for breath. Gasping with no relief. It was as if her head had been underwater rather than just lying in Natasha's lap. Clint was quick to leap out of his armchair to get to her as Natasha rubbed her back soothingly, but Aj still gasped for every shaky breath. Despite her body taking in air, her brain told her she wasn't, and the poor girl cried that she couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe.

The good news was that Clint had convinced the stubborn girl to stay in his and Natasha's room tonight from the beginning so they caught this episode early, but the bad news was the dreams seemed worse than ever. Ten days of this. Ten. Ten days of watching someone they cared about wilt in front of them while they watched uselessly. They were useless. Nothing they did, nothing they had, helped her. It was getting to the point where they were considering sedating her, just so her body could get a little rest, but Aj's fear and hatred of hard medications got in the way of that plan.

"You're ok, Aj! You're ok! Calm down and take a slow breath!" Clint said.

Natasha mumbled Russian reassurances under her breath, and slowly Aj finally began to calm. The pale woman slumped back into the bed and Natasha went back to running her hands through the dark hair.

"Do you remember the Egypt mission? 2005?" Natasha asked softly. Clint nodded, but he couldn't take his eyes off Aj's prone, twitching form. "The nightmares you had for weeks after… she—"

"Natasha." Clint forced her to stop talking.

Egypt had gone badly for him. He had a lot of bad missions under his belt, but Egypt 2005 had been one of his worst. Natasha hadn't been available, and he decided to go out on his own without backup. It was supposed to be simple though. The mission was a simple intel pickup. No one had any way of knowing how wrong everything could go, and everything that could go wrong had. Clint found himself in the hands of HYDRA despite the fact that their sources told them there was no base out there. Maybe that should've been one of their first early clues that HYDRA had their fingers in SHIELD business.

The torture session, they called it interrogation, had lasted a total of 17 hours and Clint was lucky he came out with all his fingers and toes. They had pulled out all the stops, didn't hold back at all, and the entire thing left him with scars both mentally and physically. The worst of it though was when they pulled out the water around hour 14.

Needless to say, the nightmares that plagued him after that mission all involved drowning. Clint couldn't even look at a body of water for a few months after. Natasha had to comfort him every time he woke up breathless and suffocating. She had to convince him every single time that he was safe in a warm, dry bed and not having his head dunked into a tub of ice water or getting a soaked rag held tightly over his face as he was shot with a hose. Aj didn't talk about any of the nightmares she's had in the last few days. If they asked, all they got was a glassy look in her eyes and the beginnings of a panic attack.

So now they just didn't ask.

"They fucking waterboarded her, Clint." Natasha said between clenched teeth. A string of angry Russian curses followed. "They fucking drowned her."

Clint wanted to try to reassure her. They didn't know. Not for sure. They didn't know, but at the same time some part of them did and it made him sick to his stomach. Clint didn't give a damn if Aj spent her life fighting. At the end of the day, she was a civilian and this shouldn't have been her life. As bad as Egypt had been, Clint had been trained for it. He knew what was coming, he knew what to expect, and he knew SHIELD was sending someone after him. Aj hadn't been trained, she hadn't had someone tell her that waterboarding would feel like she was dying in slow motion, and she believed no one would ever pull her out of that hell hole. He hated this. Clint hated this with every fiber of his being, but there was one good thing about Eugene Morgan escaping from prison.

It meant Clint could find him and put an arrow in that bastard's eye socket.


"Thanks for this, Bruce." Aj said. Her voice was weak and soft. Two words Bruce would rarely used to describe the fiery woman. He mumbled back an acknowledgement but continued to work on the IV he was setting up into her arm. Between the crying, sweating, and lack of drinking, Aj was dehydrated. Dangerously so.

They weren't alone in the room. Clint was leaning against the medical lab's doorframe across from them just watching silently. Steve was standing next to Aj, her other hand held between his, with nothing but concern on his face. Steve was the only one talking, trying to convince Aj of something, but Bruce had his voice zoned out. All his focus right now was on putting in this IV. That and controlling his heartrate.

"There." Bruce said, hitting a button on the settings, and rolling back on his stool.

Steve gave Aj a reassuring smile, "That should help. Do you want…" The Captain's words trailed off as Aj's eyes began to flutter. Clint hurried forward as well, but Bruce just watched as Aj's body slumped back against the medical bed. "Aj? Aj?!"

"She's fine." Bruce replied nonchalantly. He re-checked that the IV lines weren't crossed before pushing the stand into the corner of the bed so it wasn't at risk of being accidentally knocked over.

Steve's eyes widened with recognition then flashed with bold anger, "What the hell did you give her?!"

"Midazolam." Bruce adjusted her arms and pulled a blanket over Aj's lower body, tucking her in best he could.

Steve argued again, "You know how badly she reacts to sedation and pain meds. Aj didn't want this, she hates this."

"She needs some kind of rest." Bruce replied between clenched teeth. His friend's voices were starting to grate on his already fried nerves. He could feel his very fragile patience wearing thin.

Clint spoke up this time, "Sedation isn't the same as sleep. You never get to the deep stage where—"

"The deep stage where the brain repairs itself, I know!" Bruce snapped. He threw his arm out toward them, "What I also know is that if Aj doesn't get any sort of sleep soon her body is going to start shutting down!" He scoffed. "Sedating her is a short-term answer, but I'd rather her get the bare minimum of rest instead of nothing. When she wakes up, she can complain to me all she wants—hell, she can hate me if she needs to, but I know that I'd rather have her furious than dead!"

"Dr. Banner—"

"What!?"

"Dr. Banner, your heartrate is dangerously elevated. Enough so to activate level one of the Jolly Green protocol." JARVIS said. "I must ask that you remove yourself from this setting."

Bruce clenched his jaw again and took slow breaths in and out of his nose. Tony and Natasha, who had been in the Avengers' lab, were now standing in the doorway with concern. It had been a very long time since Bruce's heartrate got high enough to activate any sort of level of the protocol designed to keep the Hulk down. He hadn't meant to snap at Steve and Clint.

He hadn't meant to lose his temper.

"I'm sorry. You're right, Bruce." Steve said after a moment. He nodded, "Any kind of rest is better than nothing. I didn't mean to upset you."

Bruce shook his head, "You didn't. Neither of you did. I'm angry at—"

The sentence didn't need to be finished. Everyone in the room knew who Bruce was angry at. Tensions were just running high in the Tower. Watching part of your family wither away to nothing, while you could do absolutely nothing to help, could do that. All Bruce knew was that if something didn't change, and soon, they were going to hit a point of no return.


When Steve was a kid he went through a phase of night terrors. It was one of the many things that plagued his more frail body. Luckily, unlike most of his other health complications, Steve had grown out of the night terrors. Granted, at this point it seemed he had just traded the night terrors for trauma induced nightmares, but life was funny that way he guessed.

He couldn't remember any of the terrible nightmares he had as a kid. Those faded away a long, long time ago. What he did remember was that anytime a night terror had him thrashing and screaming in bed, his ma would curl up beside him and mumble a song under her breath while combing her fingers through his hair. It was calming. It made him feel safe. That's all he wanted for Aj.

He just wanted her to feel safe.

Steve couldn't remember the words to the lullaby his ma would sing to him, but he remembered the tune. He'd never forget that. The only light in his room streamed through the large windows while Aj laid in her fitful sleep, her head resting on his chest. Steve hummed his old lullaby while softly letting his fingers run through her hair. He couldn't help but notice how much lighter she felt. Aj had always been a hearty eater. Enough so that Clint and Tony used to make jokes about her having more of a super soldier metabolism than he did. These days she was just eating the bare minimum and it showed. It had taken its toll. Every nightmare took it's pound of flesh from her. It left her metaphorically bleeding out.

A pained whimper left her lips just as her entire body tensed against him. Aj's hand, resting on his chest, clenched a fistful of his shirt. Steve stopped combing his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her neck. He whispered, "Hey. You're okay, doll."

Aj relaxed marginally in his hold. Saying the nickname she didn't like to hear had been an accident, but Aj was too far lost to even notice it. He let his own body relax into his bed while he prayed that Aj would stay asleep. He prayed that the nightmares would leave her alone for just a moment. That's all he was asking for. He'd get down on his knees and beg if he thought it would help.

With a sudden gasp, Aj jerked out his grip and sat up in bed. Steve hurried to sit up as well, but Aj didn't scream like he expected her to. She just sat there, staring ahead at nothing, with a lost look in her hollow eyes. Steve had never seen her vibrant blue eyes so listless and lifeless. It felt like someone had physically sucker punched him.

"Aj, you're okay." Steve said softly while taking her face into his hands, trying to get her to focus on his face, "You're in the Tower, in my room, and you're safe. You're safe. He's not here."

Aj finally recognized him and her features crumpled into despair, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Steve, I didn't want to hurt you, I'm—I'm so sorry. Don't make me go. Please don't make me leave."

Steve lightly shushed her and pulled her into his arms, "You're not going anywhere, Aj. I won't let anyone take you away. I swear it."

Aj collapsed into his arms and just sobbed into his shoulder while desperately gripping the back of his shirt. It was like she was scared something, or someone, was going to walk up and tear her from his arms. As if he'd ever let anything take her from him. He tightened his grip and mumbled promises to her.

He didn't even have the energy to feel angry right now. The only thing Steve felt was fear and a deep resounding sadness. He knew what it felt like to be trapped in a nightmare. He had his fair share. Sometimes he was in that plane again, saying good-bye to Peggy, and plunging into what was supposed to be his icy grave. Sometimes he was on the train, watching Bucky fall out of his grip again and again and again. Steve's mind had no deficiency of traumatic moments to craft nightmares from. Regardless of the nightmare though, he knew the toll it took afterwards. The fear, the guilt, the pain. It was something he hated that Aj was going through. If Steve could bear this weight for her, take the pain himself, he would in a heartbeat.

Aj's body began to relax in his arms as her sobs began to calm. She shook her head against him and mumbled words into his chest. All he could hear was a muffled apology on repeat. Steve pressed his lips into the top of her hair and began to silently plead again. He'd do anything. He'd do anything.


Once, Boss kept me awake for 72 hours straight. To be honest, I couldn't even remember why. He was upset about something, but he was always upset about everything, so God knows. Boss locked me in his office and didn't let me out unless it was to fight. He made one of his goons stay with me and anytime I began to doze off the goon would slap the shit out of me. The asshole would even follow me into the bathroom to make sure I didn't pass out for a few minutes in there. I had kept track of the hours until 58 when I got too exhausted to keep numbers straight. A while after I stopped counting, in the middle of my seventh fight of the night, I remember making a mistake. I rolled instead of weaved and my opponent slammed their fist right into my face. For a second I blacked out, but unfortunately it didn't last longer than a few seconds. When I came to, lying on my back listening to the pit crowd scream around me, my only thought was, 'God this is a new level of exhaustion'. It was like I could feel my body turning against me, refusing to help me any further.

This was worse.

This was so much worse.

This was day 13 of non-stop nightmares, and I was at the end of my rope.

I had passed exhaustion about six days ago. Now, I was at 'death warmed over'. The only thing different between me and a corpse was the corpse actually got to close their eyes and rest in peace. My body hadn't just turned against me, I could feel it shutting down. I was crying and sweating more water than I could take in, and any food I put into my mouth tasted like ash and made me sick.

The worst part of all this though, was how weak minded I felt.

I thought I was stronger than this, braver than this, and yet here I was falling apart just at the thought of Boss getting near me. The nightmares were bad. There was only so many times you could watch someone you love die in bloody, brutal ways before you cracked, but I thought I could last longer. I felt weak. I felt pathetic. I felt unworthy of all the care the Avengers doted on me, and damn did they dote on me.

They'd give me warm smiles and soft words, but I saw the worry on their faces. I could feel the tension and pain hanging in the air around us. If Tony wasn't holding me up, telling me shitty jokes in an attempt to make me laugh, then he was in his lab with music blasting. If Clint wasn't cuddled beside me on the couch protectively and if Nat wasn't braiding my hair and whispering comforts to me in Russian, then they were in the Conference Room on a manhunt. If Bruce wasn't making me tea and checking my blood pressure and pulse every twenty minutes, then he was in his meditation room hiding away. If Steve wasn't smiling at me, promising everything was going to be ok, then he was in the training gym destroying sandbags.

The Avengers were worried, and it was all my fault.

Even Sam hovered around me. It felt like he was here more often than he wasn't. I guess they all figured having a therapist around was a good idea. Talking to Sam helped, but he couldn't stop the nightmares. Nobody could.

It was really nice that they tried though.

"I'm so sorry, Aj, I'm still on my way. I got a flat tire, but AAA is nearly here." Sam said through the phone. I was sitting in my living room, in the middle of the couch, with the blanket Steve had gotten me for Christmas swaddled around me. Sam's voice was speaking through JARVIS' speakers. "It's still gonna be at least half an hour." I could hear Sam's disappointment and worry. "I'm gonna call Steve. They just left, maybe if they aren't too far out—"

"No." I said quickly. A mission had arose, an all hands on deck situation, and we had argued in circles for an hour about if someone should stay behind. Thor was here for this mission so Clint argued that him staying behind wouldn't be too big of a deal, but I refused to let him stay. If something happened to the team because they didn't have everyone they needed there... The nightmares wouldn't have to kill me, I'd die of guilt. "The Avengers don't stop being the Avengers because I'm having some bad dreams."

"Aj—"

"Sam, I'll be fine until you get here. I'll just watch TV." I reassured him, trying to keep my voice as strong as I could manage.

He finally caved and let out a sigh, "Okay, but call me if you need me. Don't hesitate, Aj. Alright? No need to play it tough."

"See you soon, Sam."

The phone disconnected and JARVIS turned back on the music I had playing before he had called. The TV was also on playing one of Clint's shows in the background. I didn't have the kind of focus these days to actively watch anything. Any energy I did have today was spent on my phone call with Granny. Tony was close to flying her out. He would've already if Granny wasn't busy watching Aubrey's kids. The only way she could come is if she brought the kids with her and everybody was on the fence on whether or not that would help. Something told me I was a couple more bad days away from them saying 'fuck it' and flying the whole lot of them up to me anyways.

I sat on the couch, letting my eyes glaze over as I followed the colors and motions on the TV in front of me. I hope the team wasn't too distracted by me while on their mission. I hated that I was putting them in danger like that. I was a distraction. I was a liability. I was a broken cog in a once efficient machine. A venomous voice whispered at the back of my head. It wondered how long the Avengers would continue to put up with me before deciding I wasn't worth the effort. It was the very fear I had when I first got here. People leaving me, because they realized I was poison, was so much easier when I didn't get attached to them. But of course, my life didn't work like that. I didn't destroy things until I began to love them. That's when my bloody hands began to taint everything they touched.

The elevator opened and my head turned in surprise. I had gotten off the phone with Sam only five minutes ago, there was no way he was already here. I leaned forward on the couch and I felt my heart stop when Bucky stepped off onto my floor.

"B—Bucky?" I breathed in shock. He had on a white, long sleeve shirt with dark jeans. His hair was the same length I remembered, but he had more scruff along his jawline. Bucky's piercing gaze held mine. "You—"

"Doll." He sighed and it snapped me out of my daze. I jumped off the couch and met him halfway. Bucky caught me as I collided into him and his arms wrapped around me tightly. Thank God he did because I'd be a puddle on the floor otherwise. I buried my face into his chest. "I was so worried. Are you alright?"

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, "I'm—I'm fine. How are you here? You shouldn't be here, I—"

"You worried me. I wasn't gonna leave you here to handle this alone, doll." Bucky replied with a soft smile. Over the last 13 days, I knew Bucky had been concerned. I hid my exhaustion as long as I could, but that didn't last long. Our conversations had gotten shorter and shorter until they phased into only texts anytime I used the bathroom. It was hard to make sneaky calls when I had an Avenger hovering over me at all times worried I was gonna pass out. Still, I had no idea he had planned on—on this.

I shook my head, "This—This is good. I know you're worried about Steve being upset but he isn't." I clung to his shoulders. "I swear he isn't. You can stay Bucky, you can stay with us!"

"Hey", Bucky said softly. He lifted one hand to cup the side of my face, "I ain't going anywhere, doll."

Despite the exhaustion, I felt my lips curl up into a watery smile. I opened my mouth to speak again, to thank him, but the loud sound of a gun going off three times put ice into my veins. I blinked in shock and my eyes drifted down to where three red dots began to blossom and spread across his white shirt like a demented work of art.

"No…No, no, no." I stammered out. Bucky's face twisted in pain as he began to slump to the floor. I pathetically tried to catch and hold him up, but he just brought me down with him. "No, no, no, please, God, no." Bucky was wheezing in pain as blood began to pool around him. His entire shirt was a dripping red that coated my hands and arms as I tried to hold him up. "Bucky, please—"

"What a shame." My eyes snapped up at the nasally voice. Boss stood at the mouth of the elevator with a smoking gun. His slicked back blond hair and pasty skin looked ghostly compared to the all black suit he wore. "Such a lovely weapon of destruction and because of you he's dying."

I shook my head desperately, tears streaming down my cheeks, "No, please, not Bucky. Not Bucky, please, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"Sorry is too late, pet." Boss crouched down and pointed to Bucky with the end of his gun, "Look at him." My eyes drifted down in time to see blood leak from his mouth as he choked on his blood. "You did this to him, Aj. You did this to him!"

I continued to shake my head, as if it could un-right this wrong. As if my denial could put the bullets back into the gun. Bucky was begging through his blood and my entire body shook. I grasped at his bloody shirt, "I'm sorry, please, help me save him. I can't let him die. Please."

"Then why did you kill him, Aj?" Boss asked snidely.

Bucky took in a pained breath and I looked back at him to see the pain etched into his features. I reached out to touch his face, but I couldn't feel his warmth. My hand only left a large smudge of blood on his cheek. I still tried to hold his face anyways as I sobbed, "I'm sorry, Bucky. I'm so sorry."

"W—Why? Why did you—did you do this to me?" Bucky gasped. I shook my head, useless apologizes spilling from my lips. His eyes began to dim, losing the light that kept me going in that bunker so long ago. "I shouldn't—"

"I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me." I cried again. My chest ached as if the bullets had buried themselves into my skin rather than his. "Please don't leave me."

"I shouldn't have saved you, doll." He whispered in his last breath. His chest stopped rising and there was nothing in his eyes. I shook him hard once, screaming, and then forced myself up to start chest compressions. Anything. I was desperate. Bucky couldn't die. I couldn't kill Bucky. I couldn't kill Toska.

Please, God, no.

The sound of a gun loading made me glance up. Boss was gone, and in his place stood the Winter Soldier. He had the shape of Bucky, the same broad shoulders and thick thighs, but whereas Bucky curled into himself to hide his size, the Soldier used every inch of it to intimidate. His metal arm on full display as he wore only his thick, black, leather armor. His eyes were empty, void of any emotion at all, as he stared down at me like I was nothing more than an ant under his boot. The lower half of his face was covered, and his hand didn't shake as he held the gun to my head.

"Смерть тебе подходит." The Soldier said before pulling the trigger.

Someone was screaming.

Someone was screaming.

Oh. I was. It was me.

"Ms. Bradshaw, you are in distress. Per Setting Sun protocol, I am patching through to Mr. S—"

"No!" I yelled while gasping for air. My body had fallen off the couch, and I now laid on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. My blanket was a tangled mess around me. "Don't contact—Don't—"

I couldn't finish my sentence. All I could hear in my head was Bucky crying out in pain and all I could see was the life leaving his eyes. I had killed him. I killed him. It was my fault. All my fault. It was all my fault that Bucky was dead. Bucky was dead. Bucky was dead. The world around me began to blur as tears clouded my vision. I scrambled to get up and ended up falling once, hard, when I tripped over the blanket. Still, that didn't stop me. I sprinted to the bathroom and made a desperate grab for the familiar olive jacket hanging on the back of the door.

As my hand grasped the burner phone, I fell to the floor and immediately hit the only number it had saved. The line connected on the second ring.

"Aj—"

"Bucky!" I yelled, but it was a garbled mess through my sobs. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—I—I killed you, you were dead and—and I couldn't— I didn't mean it." I heard Bucky's voice, but the words wouldn't stop falling out of my mouth. "You were bleeding and I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry— You were dead, Bucky, you were dead, and it was me. I caused it! I—"

"Whoa, whoa, doll, slow down." Bucky finally spoke loud enough to cut in. I pulled my legs tightly into my chest trying to make myself as small as possible. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and I was suffocating. "It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. You didn't hurt me. You could never. Are you okay, Aj?"

His words of comfort felt wrong to me. He was wrong. Bucky was wrong about me, they all were. I shook my head, "It was my fault, it is my fault. Boss is going to kill everybody I love and it's all my fault." I sucked in a sharp breath that brought no relief. I was beginning to feel lightheaded. My next words left me in a breathless whimper, "You should've just let me die in that bunker."

"Hey!" Bucky snapped firmly. "Don't. Don't you dare say that." I bit down on my lower lip to keep my continued whimpers and sobs from going over the line to him. I pressed my forehead onto my knees. Bucky continued, fire in his voice, "This is the nightmare talking and the nightmare is just your worst fears. It doesn't know shit about you. Remember what we said? What did we agree on about our nightmares?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and whispered back, "We aren't who we are in those dreams."

"We are not who we are in our nightmares." Bucky repeated firmly. "The only person who should be held responsible, who has any blame, is the motherfucker who hurt you. Eugene. This is not your fault. None of it is. Doll, I don't care if he this guy walked up to me and shot me in the head—"

"Bucky—"

"It wouldn't be your fault. You wouldn't be to blame." Bucky said.

I sniffled and pressed my free hand against the back of my neck, keeping my head down, "He said it himself and he was right. Boss was right. I'm poison. I hurt everyone around me, I can't—I can't help it. I destroy everything I touch. It's why they run. The smart ones, the safe ones, are the people who leave me before I can hurt them."

"That sick son of a bitch isn't right. I bet he's never been right a day in his life." Bucky scoffed. He took in a shaky breath, "You are not poison. You aren't. You don't hurt the people around you, you make them happy. You bring them peace. Being around you is like—is like finally finding shelter from a storm. You're a refuge."

"What's that thing you always tell me?" I forced out a sad scoff, "I think you give me too much credit."

Bucky let out a soft hum, "No, doll, I'm right."

"How could you be so sure?" I asked quietly.

"Aj, you've gone through hell, absolute hell, and there are so many things you could be afraid of. So many fears your head could latch onto, but your fear—" Bucky paused for a moment. "—the thing that haunts you in your sleep—is the fear of your loved ones being hurt. I think that's a testament to the kind of person you are. Why do you think I let you go with the Avengers? I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you. You're a hero."

I pushed my head up with an angry scoff, "Bucky, get real."

"Doll—"

"I could make a list, a mile fucking long, of people who'd consider me more villain than—"

"Aimee Jane!" Bucky snapped again using my full name. I had told it to him ages ago, when he asked what Aj stood for, but he had never said it again. The sound of my name, in his voice, made my screaming mind quiet. "Listen to me. I need you to just listen to me, alright?"

I nodded and swiped away a few more stray tears. My face felt hot and swollen and my voice was weak, "Yeah… I can listen."

"Do you remember when we met?" Bucky questioned and I wished he could see me roll my eyes. He knew I very much remembered it. He continued, "When Vladimir roped me into that bunker I was lost. Most days back then, I couldn't even remember my name. The months after I saved Steve I was just wandering. Trying to run from myself." I hated thinking about Bucky drifting around lost in his own head. He chuckled, "I was running from myself and getting nowhere, but then…" Bucky hesitated for a second. "Then I found myself in you. You opened those fire filled eyes and made me remember… remember what it felt like to be Bucky. Steve may have woken me up, but… you made me feel human again. Doll, I didn't save you in that bunker. You saved me."

A shaky breath left me as a new wave of tears fell from my eyes. This time it wasn't a body shaking sob though. It was slow. It was soft. I took in steadying breaths as Bucky continued to whisper words of comfort in my ear to chase away the anxiety. Sometimes in English, sometimes in a language I didn't really recognize. I tried to let his words soak into me.

You are not your nightmares. I am not my nightmares.

It's not your fault. It's not my fault.

You are everything good in this world. I am everything good in this world.

You are not poison. I am not poison.

I am not poison.

I am not poison.

I am not poison.

"I'm sorry I called you like this." I finally said when my breathing was steady enough. "I'm sorry we haven't been able to talk like we usually do."

Bucky chuckled, "You don't need to apologize for any of that. I… I missed you, though."

If this had been any other time, I would've made fun of him for admitting it. Teased him and egged him on to tease me back, but right now? I just soaked in the warmth of those words. I missed him too.

"Doll—"

"Aj?" Sam's voice called out from the living room faintly.

"I gotta go, Bucky. Sam is here, he can't hear you." I said quickly and sat up.

Bucky argued, "Wait, no, Aj—"

"I'll text you."

I flipped the phone shut and stuffed it into my pajama pants pocket right as Sam rushed into my room. He spotted me through the open bathroom door and his tense shoulders slumped at the sight of me.

"JARVIS said you had a bad one." Sam said and crossed over to me. He knelt down in front of me and set his hand on the side of my arm. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, "A little better now. It was…It was bad, but…I'm okay right now."

"You wanna talk about it?" Sam questioned.

"Not really, but…" I paused and tried to find the words I wanted to say. If anyone could clear this up for me it would be Sam. I shook my head, "How do…How do you convince yourself to believe what other people say about yourself?"

Sam scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"For example, you told me I was worthy the first time we met." I said and Sam nodded firmly as if to agree with his previous statement again. "But my idiot brain always tells me I'm not and…and I want to believe you guys, God do I want to, but it's so hard to…"

Sam sighed, finally understanding, "It's hard to ignore that little internal voice." I nodded in confirmation and he chuckled. "You're not alone, you know? We all have that issue, I think. Tony's talked to me about it before. You know what I told him?"

"What?"

"I told him to imagine that internal voice is a person in a bar talking shit." He said with a grin and I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Sam squeezed my arm, "He's just some drunk asshole that walked up to you and is now insulting you. Really tearing you apart. What would we say back? If I was in that bar with you, what would I say about that jackass? What would Steve say? Nat? Tony? Bruce? Clint?" He offered me his other hand to help me up off the bathroom floor. Sam pulled me into a hug that I eagerly returned. "Your internal voice is a dickhead, Aj. Let us be your internal voice for a little while, okay?"

I nodded and pulled back with a small smirk, "I don't know if I want Clint Barton in my head all the time." Sam laughed and walked me out. He went to pull me out into the living room, but I paused by my bed. "I think… I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep, Sam."

Sam's humor disappeared and that worry I hated being the cause of came back, "You sure? I can stay in here with you."

I shook my head, "I just want some time alone. It's fine. We know JARVIS will tell you the minute I start freaking out."

"That is accurate, Mr. Wilson." JARVIS agreed.

Sam chuckled and nodded once. He gave me another quick hug, letting me know he'd be right outside in the living room if I needed him, and then left. I stared at the door for a second. The moonlight from outside lighting it up. Maybe I could do that. Let someone else be my internal voice for a little while. That didn't sound so hard.

I pulled out the phone from my pocket to send Bucky a quick text. Seconds after it went through though, the phone was vibrating in my hand. Quickly, and quietly, I tiptoed back into the bathroom, shut the door, and answered it, "Hey."

"You're gonna try to sleep again?"

"I have to eventually." I shrugged. "You really helped though, Bucky. I think I might get a few good hours in tonight."

There was a pause and for a second I thought he hung up entirely. Finally, Bucky spoke up, "Don't hang up. Stay on the line with me when you lay down."

"I can't." I scrunched my face up. "I don't think JARVIS records anything, he's not supposed to, but Sam could walk in or the Avengers could come back and—"

"I don't care, doll." Bucky replied softly. "Come on. Humor me."

Hesitantly, I opened the bathroom door and hurried to my bed. I slipped under the cool covers and brought the thick comforter up close around my neck so it was bundled around me. This way if someone walked in they'd hopefully just see the back of my head and my mountain of blankets.

The moment my head hit the cold pillow I felt my eyes flutter in response as my body sagged into the mattress. Every part of me, except my mind, craved sleep. I turned the volume up on the side just a little then set it beside the pillow by my head.

"Alright. I'm in bed following your dumb plan."

"Wow, how about you give me a little faith?" Bucky joked back.

I chuckled, "Fine. Now what?"

Bucky hummed, "Well, you tell me. Do you wanna hear about the time my ma asked me and Becca to make dinner and we accidentally set the stove on fire or about the first time I ever roped Steve into a double date and it ended with just the two of us hitchhiking on the side of the road?"

"The second one. Definitely the second one." I replied with a small laugh.

"Alright, it's a long story, doll, so no interrupting." Bucky said. "Now, let me set the stage, the year was 1929…"

It didn't take long to realize what his plan was. My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I listened to Bucky's voice as he told the story. He left out no details as he went on and on. My eyes finally shut, and my internal voice chimed up to remind me how worried everyone I loved was. How I was weak and pathetic for not dealing with this on my own. I pictured a faceless figure spitting its venomous thoughts at me.

'You are nothing.'

Tony would pull me into his side and say, 'Why even try to mess with this alone when I'm right here to help. Everyone knows my company is the absolute best.' Natasha would stand in front of me and death glare the source of the words. Clint would just tell it to 'fuck off'. Sam would order me another drink and then Bruce would distract me by telling me about his newest experiment.

Steve would hold my hand in his, bring the back of it up to his lips, and say, 'Don't listen to it. Listen to me.'

"—now in my defense, I truly thought the girl had told me her name was Boris. It sounded wrong, but it wasn't my place to judge her parents' decision making skills—" Bucky's voice drifted out of the burner phone and enveloped me into a cocoon of something warm and soft. Something that felt safe.

The voice would say, 'You are nothing', but Bucky would say, 'You are everything'.

Consciousness slipped away from me and, for the first time in a long time, I didn't dream at all.