She had been strapped to a cold metal table, barefoot and dressed in nothing but a pajama tank top and "boxer shorts" from the night she had been abducted. The leather straps bit into her wrists and arms, her legs and ankles…

Two days of being denied food, water and bathroom access. She had never felt more disgusting and filthy…

Her throat tickled in discomfort, dry from dehydration…

And still she would never disclose any information regarding Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th Infantry Regiment…

Her Bucky…

Also previously known as the infamous Winter Soldier, the Russian tongued fist of Hydra.

But he wasn't that anymore…an assassin…

Her Second World War hero, fighting with the Howling Commandos…

Before ever properly meeting him in person, she had seen the black and white war footage of him from the 1940s, his dark hair cropped into the clean cut style of the era appropriate for a soldier, laughing with his childhood friend Captain Steve Rogers. His classically handsome good looks reminiscent of a prince from a fairytale…that chiseled jaw-line of his alone could make women swoon… Not to mention his million-dollar movie star smile…

The painted mural of him with the Commandos in the Smithsonian Museum in Washington DC certainly made her stop in her tracks when she had first visited before the public fall of SHEILD which was really HYDRA…

But HYDRA hadn't been completely obliterated with the actions in the nation's capitol.

And the remaining loyalists had tracked her down and kidnapped her. What a damned cliché…

They had to see if the former killer had a weakness in the form of one insignificant girl…to draw him into their trap. To gain their brainwashed pet back into their clutches to do their bidding.

If Bucky was smart, he would stay away… After all, she was nothing compared to everything he had endured to make all the progress he had to gain a semblance of his former self from nearly a century ago…

The cattle prod burned into her side, leaving marks that would stay embedded into her flesh. The Soviet accented thugs kept asking her the same questions over and over…

When she had met Sergeant Barnes and where… If he had ever displayed traces of the Winter Soldier inside him…

Hell, they hadn't even kissed yet, let alone been on a real outing as a couple. So it wasn't like the criminals had done the trope correctly, capturing the hero's girlfriend to draw him out of hiding. She doubted he would notice her missing and she wouldn't blame him for self-preservation.

But through all the pain and confusion and misery where she was afraid that this was where she would meet her end, she hoped against logic that somebody would get her out of here. She would try herself, but she was barely able to move or talk.

They had been drawing her blood out from her system as another form of torture, to slowly weaken her, to send out as a gift to Bucky, to let him know of her predicament. Whenever she would try to slide out from her restraints, the sedatives and drugs would kick in from the IV bag attached to her wrist and she would lie in a half-conscious state… Sometimes, she would even completely black out, mumbling her defiance that she would never give them anything on Barnes.

A few times, they had come close to overdosing her… Why prolong the inevitable?

They were wasting their time and resources with her, a human nobody…

What was her life compared to Bucky's, born in 1917, volunteered for the US Army in 1943 to fight for his country?

She had remembered first meeting him, at a local bar in his native Brooklyn, ever handsome and striking with his ebony dark hair and leather jacket and the cautious sadness in his blue eyes…

Their small talk had been awkward, starting with her noticing the shape of his army dog tags underneath his shirt…and definitely not the evident muscles concealed beneath the fabric…

They hadn't even been on a proper date, at least to the point where he bought her a bouquet of red roses, his old-fashioned sensibilities from being 106 years old apparent from his chivalrous behavior with her.

He'd told her that with dating, although he'd said how beautiful he thought she was, it was like a dance. And he had to warm up… and he hadn't danced since 1943.

And she didn't dance at all. But he said he would show her how…

After the second day, she'd lost track of how long she had been here now.

Three days… two weeks…

After the blackouts in consciousness from the drugs to keep her sedated and complacent the concept of time had been lost to her.

Even now she had been moved from the operating table to a rickety hospital bed, the sheets stained with sick and sweat, having been transferred when a syringe needle had been suddenly stuck into her neck and everything had gone dark, the last thing she had heard was that someone had broken in…

They had moved her into the bowels of the abandoned hospital where they had held her captive and she had drifted in and out of awareness. And apparently there was still an intruder, taking down each Hydra agent with little to no effort.

All she could hear was yelling in the Russian language and she had no idea what was being screamed. But she heard the thudding of bodies being thrown, bones being broken and groans of undeniable pain…

The drugs in her system were so heavy with the dosage, she had barely the strength to open her eyes, waiting for this assailant to put her out of her despair… Just make it stop.

The doors to the room burst open and her eyes stayed closed as she listened to a pair of heavy boots step across the tile floor toward her bed, quick with the efficiency of a mission that had to be accomplished.

And those boot steps sounded so familiar…

Did she dare hope…?

She felt a silent worried gaze from the presence at her side, feeling the restraints unclasped from her wrists, and the cold touch of metal gently taking her hand, warm fingers feeling for her pulse. The IV needle removed as carefully as possible from the veins of her arm, but she barely felt it…

She was dared open her eyelids…and was welcomed with the gentle midnight blue irises tenderly looking down at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Her disused voice rasped out his name, thankful for God answering her prayers and sending one of the most famous war heroes in history to be her salvation…

"Bucky." The croaking in her voice hurt her throat… she needed water and food desperately.

"Hey." That one word he spoke to her instantly made her fears evaporate from however long she had been in this deathtrap. "It's gonna be alright, doll. I'll get you out of here."

His vigilant eyes scanned over her body, the bruises splotching her fair skin and her frail condition from malnourishment. She was thinner than ever, painfully. The bed she had been strapped to didn't even have blankets to keep her warm. Her matted hair tangled in knots.

She needed a proper doctor… no, a hospital.

James "Bucky" Barnes wasted no time with any declarations of protection. As soon as she was free from her bonds, he lifted her up off the bed, her arms reaching out for him like a life preserver in an ocean. She clung onto him, her arms around his shoulders and neck, his dog tags dangling down to rest on her stomach. However childish it seemed, she buried her face into the warm flesh of his throat, his stubble prickling her skin.

His vibranium arm slid underneath her knees to securely hold her legs while his flesh arm delicately cradled her back. Once she was safely against his chest, he strode out of the room and into the hallway, quickly stepping through the desolate building, carrying her out of this hell-hole of torture.

She mumbled into his neck, her eyes closing in fear. "Don't let them touch me again, James."

She used his birth name, feeling her consciousness beginning to fade away from the drugs still in her veins. God, she hated feeling so weak and helpless and burdensome… Yet, she couldn't deny how protected she felt, like nothing could ever harm her again while she was in his arms, floating and weightless…

"I won't, I promise." Although she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes remained closed and he glanced sideways to the woman he spirited away to safety. "Try not to talk anymore, just rest."

He could hear her pulse was especially weak and he walked faster through the hallways, intent on getting her help before her condition worsened. If her heartbeat ceased that lovely rhythm that made him sense that strength within her…

"I…I didn't tell them anything, I swear." She whispered, her eyes opening as she met his worried azure gaze. "They were using me to get to you, the oldest trick in the book."

"I know you didn't, honey." Bucky murmured to her, keeping his deep voice low, the rumbling of his chest vibrating against her body as he spoke. His strong arms and hands held her with such reverent care, like a parent cradling a newborn infant. The same arms and hands that had killed so many people… She deserved a real hero to save her…

But now was not the time for internal turmoil…

"I…I wasn't gonna let HYDRA get you again." She mumbled, her tongue numb inside her mouth. "I wasn't gonna help them hurt you."

She readjusted her arms around his neck, yet her grip loosened against her will, exhaustion beginning to cloud her brain.

"I'm not concerned about that. Don't you worry about me." Bucky's voice slightly rose as he emphasized his focus on getting her away from here. "I thought I told you to rest…stubborn dame."

A smile crept to her lips as her eyes closed again as the feeling in her arms began to fade, one of her hands resting on her stomach, her fingers clinging onto his army tags. His occasional use of archaic 1930s and '40s slang never failed to humor her.

"You know I don't take orders, Sergeant Barnes." She managed to say through the fog overtaking her mind and she felt herself sinking deeper into the ether of darkness. Her fingers twisted into the metal chain of his dog tag.

"I know, sweetheart." The aching soft tone to his voice lulled her into slumber as she lay limp and motionless in his arms, his soft lips placing a relieved kiss on her forehead. "And my name is Bucky."

His nickname was the last word she heard before peaceful darkness completely pulled her under and she dreamt of her soldier.

He listened to her breathe, sighing deeply in her sleep. Bucky whispered soft words into her hair. "There was no way I was gonna leave my best girl. Not when I owe her a dance."

They were with each other to the end of the line…