You were awake when the next nightmare came. Honestly, you were surprised he'd even fallen asleep so early, but then again you'd been curled up with a book under your bedside light and you didn't stop to see what time it was when you heard him cry out almost loud enough to shake the house. You'd barely gotten your bookmark placed before you were tossing the novel aside and heading for the door and down the hallway.

Remembering the last time, you paused at the door to knock. "Bucky? It's me. I'm gonna open the door slowly."

A long pause and you heard his voice faintly. "Yeah."

As promised, you took your time opening the door, deliberate and slow so as not to startle him. You found him sitting on a blanket on the hardwood floor, elbows rested on his up-bent knees while his hands hung in the space between. His chest heaved and his skin was slick with sweat, plastering strands of dark hair to the side of his face and making the web of scars stand out even more where metal met flesh. Face downturned and jaw slack, he still lifted his eyes to yours. It would have been menacing if you weren't so concerned.

You glanced at the still-made bed and he must have noticed because he answered your unspoken question. "Too soft."

Nodding, you sat down beside him on the floor, his gaze following your every movement. "Do you need more blankets?"

He shook his head slightly, but shied away when you twisted to reach a hand toward him. You stopped, tilting your palm up to show you meant no harm. Bucky looked at you a moment longer before turning his eyes away, a sign of acquiescence, of quiet submission, and it broke your heart a little. But you continued on with your little mission, smoothing hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ears. After an initial start at the first touch of your fingers, he seemed to calm under your gentle treatment. His eyes slid closed and the tension in his muscles eased.

"There. That's better," you declared with a soft triumphant smile. He looked over at you when your hand brushed familiarly over the back of his shoulder where skin and metallic surface touched. "Now, do you wanna talk about your nightmare?"

Darkness passed over his face again as he turned his gaze back to the floor. "No."

"Okay," you nodded. It seemed to surprise him when you nudged your shoulder against his prosthetic, his eyes lingering a moment on the already yellowing bruise there. "But talking can help, you know?"

"Nothing can help me," he sneered at the space between his bare feet.

You had heard those exact words before and the ache in your chest grew, eyes growing a little watery at the memory. Before you knew what you were doing, you gripped his upper arm tightly, though there was no chance it could have hurt him. When his guarded expression met yours, you couldn't hide the small trace of desperation in your voice. "Please, Bucky. At least let me try."

He stared at you for the longest time. Even after you'd taken your hand from his arm. Even after you reached up to not-so-casually swipe at the tears that had threatened to form in your eyes. But you refused to look away from him. Finally, in a quiet voice, he said "Falling."

Your brow furrow with concern. "Falling?"

"The nightmare," he nodded, like there was only one nightmare that he ever had, or at least the only one that woke him up like this. "Falling and snow and... pain."

At the last word, his eyes slid over his left arm, slowly working the metal fingers into a fist before quickly releasing it. The motion let you know it wasn't just a nightmare, but a memory. Steve had told you about the incident on the train and Bucky plummeting to an assumed death. You could only guess that's what he was dreaming about, at least this time. Who knows what other horrors rattled around in his brain to surface during his unguarded sleep.

"Well, you're safe now, Bucky," you soothed, reaching to card your fingers through his hair again. "I know that's hard to remember when you're dreaming, but you're safe and you're warm and you're on solid ground."

He nodded, though he looked none too convinced. Knowing there wasn't much more you could do that night, you gave those dark locks of his an affectionate tug before getting to your feet. "Try to get some more sleep, Buck? If you need anything at all, just knock on my door. Even if it's just to talk, got it?"

His head ducked in a silent affirmative. After a lingering moment, you turned to give him his privacy. But as you opened the door, the cat plodded not-so-gracefully into the room, pausing at your feet to give you a loud meow before scampering on toward Bucky. You watched her press her head against his slack hands, petting herself, until a metal finger scratched that spot behind her ear she loved. She purred loudly when he gathered her up into the crook of his arm and twisted to lay back down on his side, not a single fuss or squirm given. He was just wrapping the blanket over the both of them as you pulled the door closed, not even trying to conceal the smile on your face.