Part 3/3 posted tonight to catch up.

Aren't these titles so pretty?

With love, Dubs.

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January 10th

The Winter Soldier held the sleeping Anya on his chest, his hand gently sliding over her wounds to gauge how well they had healed. They had spent the entire morning and a large portion of the afternoon in bed, only breaking for food. The protein shake had done wonders for her health, but real food had truly helped her healing. He couldn't help himself as he kissed the top of her head and took in her scent. He didn't want to admit it but every part of him screamed she was his everything.

It hadn't taken long to know he would do anything to protect her. It was a strange sensation for the assassin, although not unfamiliar or uncomfortable. She sparked something in him he had thought died long ago, a human element that he was surprisingly glad for. She hummed as she smiled in her sleep, and he took a deep breath. Pierce would not get his disgusting hands on her ever again… And there was certainly no way he was ever going to let them reset her, even if it meant he had to be reset himself as to forget about her.

His hand slid along her back, feeling the remains of the wounds from Pierce. Mostly, they were gone and, in their place, just raised little scars. He moved his hand down her body, his fingers dancing across her skin until resting it on her hip. He wanted to commit every part of her to his memory while he could. Her soft skin that hid strong muscles… Her lips, ever so swollen from him, smiling as he touched her… Her long blonde hair, tangled in his fingers… Her body against his…

He was acutely aware of one thing for certain: he would be her Bucky, until he could no longer remember her.

The serenity of the moment ended as his phone buzzed on the bedside table. Bucky tore his eyes away from her and looked at the phone. An annoyed grouse escaped his lips. It was Pierce. Again.

The man had already called seven times, and Bucky wondered if ignoring him one more time would truly matter. However, he knew if he didn't answer this call, he probably never would. Would that be a bad thing? What was the worst that could happen if he didn't answer? He looked at Maggie, sleeping against him, still smiling. Pierce would find them. He would find them, and he would take her from him and torture her to prove a point.

Bucky looked back at his phone as he picked it up. He should have answered earlier. It was late in the day and the missed phone calls would be suspicious. He'd have to lie his way out of this one and hope Pierce was gullible enough to believe him. The Winter Soldier looked to her again, staring once more at her sleeping form as he answered the phone silently.

"I've been trying to call you all day," Pierce quipped.

"I was watching my target," he replied, his voice a low rumble. With his free hand he began stroking her hair.

"She's missing," Pierce said, "you wouldn't know where she went, would you?"

"Nyet," he said, then repeated in English, "No." She shifted on top of him, and his hand moved instinctually to cover her mouth. Her eyes flitted open and she looked up at him, confused, but silent.

"Then add her to your list of missions. Captain America is still your top priority. However, if you find her along the way, get rid of her. She's more trouble than she's worth," he said. She looked away from him.

"Understood," the Winter Soldier replied and started to hang up, but Pierce spoke again.

"Just know, if I were to find out you helped her run, when I catch her—because I will catch her—I'm going to kill her, slowly, painfully, until she can't even scream and the entire time you're going to be sitting in the chair watching, unable to help her, no matter how much she begs for help…And then I'm going to make you forget everything about her," he said, "meet me at 7."

The Winter Soldier's jaw tightened, and his nose flared in anger. He said nothing as he hung up the phone, but the moment the call ended he crushed the phone with his bare, human hand.

"Not to say I told you so," she mumbled, pulling his hand from her mouth as she looked at him once more. She left her comment unfinished as she noticed his eyes boring into her, wild in rage.

She sighed, positioning herself on top of him so she was kneeled over his abdomen and looking down at him. He reached up, putting his hand on her face, his thumb resting on her lips. She put her hand on the side of his before she smiled softly and kissed his thumb.

"Let's just run away together," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "we're two of the top ghosts ever created. You are, by far, the best. And I did my job well enough when they didn't want me killing good people. We stand a strong chance of living out our lives in peace. We might have to run for it on occasion, but we could do it. We could make that work."

"They'll just keep finding us," he said slowly, "it's better off if they think you're dead."

"And how are you going to convince them of that?"

"I'll bring them someone—"

"No," she said, and he paused.

"I really don't like you telling me that," he stated.

"Get used to it. I hate that idea," she retorted.

"We can't just run," he said.

"Why?"

"I told you—"

"It's a terrible excuse," she said, interrupting him. The two stared at one another for several moments and in that time his hand lowered to her hip.

"You could kill me," he said, "If I was dead—"

"I won't kill you," she said, reaching down and gently flicking his nose. He grabbed her hand and held it in his.

"What if you had to?" he asked, "what if I was your mission."

"I'm a failure anyway, what's one more?"

"Why?" he asked, and she leaned forward placing a gentle kiss on his lips before sitting upright once more.

"Because. I don't kill good men."

"I'm not a good man," he said. He started to push her away, but she resisted him, taking her hand from his grasp to hold his arm and pull herself closer to him.

"You have done terrible things," she said, her tone quiet and somber, "we both have. We were being controlled. But the look in your eyes tells me everything I need to know. You have regret. If you weren't a good man, you wouldn't regret killing people. Unless you want to try to tell me I'm wrong, but then you'll have to convince me."

He didn't respond to her. He didn't know how to. She knew him better than he wanted to admit, probably better than he knew himself. Their eyes met each other for several seconds before she leaned back and began looking over him as if she'd never see him again. He reached up with his right hand and lifted her chin, so she looked him in the eyes again.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"I'm just," she paused, and he saw a mist overcome her eyes. She blinked it away and cleared her throat before continuing, "I want to stare at you for as long as I can so that when they reset me, this is the last thing I forget." He stared at her, his eyes narrowing into a glare. He sat up and as he did, she began to move to sit beside him, but his hands gripped her hips tight and held her in place.

"They are not resetting you," he stated angrily, "they'll reset me, and I'll forget about where you are. You'll be safe."

"As far as I'm concerned, we're a package deal," she countered, "I don't want you to forget any of this—I don't want to have to live with remembering it alone!"

"You'll be—"

"Stop saying that!" she yelled, trying to pull away from him but he held her tight by the waist, "Stop trying to convince me that I'll be safer. Try convincing me you don't want to forget, that you never want to forget any of this happened."

"If it means you're safe," he said softly and she stopped struggling against him, "I'll give up all of my happiness."

She stared at him, her eyes glistening before she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"But what about mine?" she whispered. Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around her. Her happiness could never include him, of that he was certain. He felt as her silent tears fell against his skin. He held her tight until her tears stopped falling and when they did, he lifted her chin to look her in the eyes. She looked exhausted.

"I'm going to go make us food," he said, "go back to sleep. I'll bring it and wake you when it's done."

She nodded and slid from his lap, facing away from him as she curled into the blankets. He instantly hated the cold feeling. He stared at her, tempted to lay back down, and pull her onto his chest again. He was tempted to apologize and tell her they could run away together. To lie and tell her he could remain at her side and keep her safe from all those who would come after them.

He stood.

If he gave in to going back to sleep with her, he would never complete his mission, she would never be safe from Hydra, and eventually they would take her from him. He put a pair of black sweatpants on and made his way to the kitchen.

He watched the door to the room as he made food for himself first and ate it. When she didn't come out, he went and checked on her. She was completely out. He watched her for a few minutes before he went back in and cooked her a couple eggs. He needed a way to stop her, he had already fed her enough that her body was nearly fully healed, although he was sure their extracurricular activities had slowed the process at least a little bit. Still, she was nearly strong enough again to put up a decent fight and he couldn't afford that.

He reached into the counter where he had a small supply of medicines and grabbed one out. Opening a couple pill capsules, he poured them on the eggs. Then after a few moments he made her a glass of orange juice and put a couple capsules worth of powder in it as well. It was a lot for a normal human, but with her ability to heal, he figured it would be a decent amount.

He went into the room and gently woke her up. She drowsily sat up and after a few blinks looked down at the plate.

"Thanks," she mumbled and started eating. He watched as she ate and drank nearly everything before she noticed he was staring at her. She stared back at him as she swallowed what was in her mouth then looked at the food.

"You put something in this, didn't you?" she asked, and he sat next to her.

"Sleeping pills," he said, "I can't have you trying to stop me. I'll be back after the mission. We'll figure out things from there."

"And what if you're not?" she asked.

"Then you have to stay safe," he replied, "If I don't come back, do not come looking for me."

"You're an ass," she said looking away from him. She set the plate on the stand beside her and got up.

"Anya," he began, and she cut him off.

"That's not my name," she said, turning to him. She looked away as if confused, repeating it to herself quietly, "that's not my name." She looked at him again then grabbed her bag and darted out the door.

"Maggie!" he called chasing after her.

She quickly realized she was in a small house with barely any furnishings, which made it easy to get to the door, but prevented her from slowing him down behind her. She got to the front door and unlocked it quickly. She was just starting to open it when his hand landed on the door above her, slamming it shut again. He grabbed her and lifted her to his shoulder. He stormed into the bedroom and almost threw her down on the bed. Roughly he grabbed her hands and before she realized what he was doing, her hands were cuffed to the metal headboard.

"Damn you, Barnes!" she screamed at him, and his eyes narrowed. He walked out of the room and when he returned, she was already testing how to get out of the cuffs, yanking them against the metal.

"Stop trying to force them, you'll only bruise your wrists," he commented flatly as he began walking toward her once more.

"Let me go!" she yelled at him, "Bucky, we can fight them together!" He stopped in the middle of the room.

"We could fight them, or we could run!" she yelled, desperation in her voice as tears streamed down her face, "but whatever we choose we could choose to do it together. Please, Bucky! Don't leave me again!"

He sat next to her and put his hand on her cheek.

"Even crying you're beautiful," he murmured. She stared up at him, her eyes red from crying. Tears still fell, but much slower. He wiped the tears from her cheeks before he kissed them softly.

"Bucky, I—" she began, but stopped as she heard the sickening squelch of tape being pulled from the roll. She looked down at his hands.

"No!" she yelled, backing as far away from him as she could. He froze for a moment before he grabbed her with his metal hand and held her still. He knew he was the villain in her narrative. There was no other way it could be… Not without putting her in danger.

When she stopped struggling, he put the tape over her mouth. She glared at him, hot, angry tears threatening to fall.

"It's better this way," he repeated as he leaned his forehead against hers. He kissed her forehead and stood. The Winter Soldier stared down at her, wishing the sleeping meds would take effect sooner as her angry green orbs bored into him. He let out an uneasy laugh as he walked to the door. Standing in the doorway, he turned once again to look at her.

"Still think I'm a good man?" he asked. He turned away from her, only hearing her muffled, but feral scream. He closed his eyes, and immediately imagined her tear-stained face. It wasn't how he wanted to remember her, but he knew the memory of her tears would haunt him until he was reset… and suddenly he was more than ready to lose his memories again.

Had he looked back he would have seen a woman ready to rain down hellfire, bent bars on the headrest, and the cuffs bloodied from a strength that Maggie herself had never known.