"Good morning, Ms. Hunt," Ruth announced.

I buried my face in the pillow, annoyed by the perkiness of the AI. "Go away."

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Hunt. You left instructions to wake you as soon as Sargent Barnes exited his home. External sensors indicate he's outside right now."

I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. "All right. I'm up. Time for round two."

I quickly showered and dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top before grabbing a breakfast bar and heading outside.

Bucky was baling hay out of a two-wheel cart that was surrounded by several eager looking goats. Even with only one arm, he still managed to impressively maneuver himself so that his hungry guests were all properly fed. Again, I had to admire how adaptive he was. He seemed to be able to do anything he set his mind to.

"Nice herd you got there," I called pleasantly as I strolled in his direction, careful not to come between the goats and their food.

He paused long enough to give me an annoyed glance. "What do you want?"

"Well, I was thinking about asking you to breakfast, but I don't know where any good diners are." I stopped on the opposite side of the cart and grinned. "Any suggestions?"

"Try New Jersey," he grumbled.

I lowered my eyes. "I deserve that. I'm really sorry about last night."

He jammed his pitchfork deep in the ground. "I could've killed you."

I nodded. "I know."

"And you still wanna try and fix me?"

"Yes." I eased around the cart. "But I admit when I mess up. I said I'd let you take the lead here and I violated your trust. But I can promise you it won't happen again."

"You're damn right." He looked over at me finally, his eyes hard and cold. "Because we're done."

I met his stare. "Why?"

"Because I'm still a danger to people." He sighed. "There's no helping me."

I laughed. "You're kidding right?"

He glared at me. "You should leave before you get hurt."

I rolled my eyes. "You think you're the first man to try and kill me? Please. I've been mangled a lot worse than a couple of bruises on my neck."

He shook his head dismissingly. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this." I walked up to him and shoved my forearm in front of him, revealing the jagged scar running from wrist to elbow. "See that scar? It's from a lovely little British grandmother who had a psychotic break. Not impressed with that one? There's a hole just above my left breast where a meth-head thought it'd be fun to stab me. Oh! And those aren't weird freckles around my kneecap. That's where they had to put the screws in after a drunk shoved me off a second story balcony. That was fun.

"But you wanna know my favorite one? The one that really holds a special place in my heart? It's where they had to staple my head back together after my ex-husband beat the crap out of me. That's my favorite because it reminds me every day that I'm worth fighting for. And so are you, Bucky Barnes."

"How do you know?" He asked, his eyes never leaving the scar.

"Because I know." I took a chance and reached out for his hand. Taking it in mine, I smiled when our eyes finally met. "And if you're willing to work with me, I'll prove it. You just got to give me another chance. Can you trust me?"

He stared at me, his eyes narrowed but not in anger. I could tell from his furrowed brow he was trying to understand something. Maybe he was confused why I'd told him about my scars or maybe he was wondering if I was just plain crazy. Whatever he was thinking, it brought a smile to his face at last.

"Can we start over?" He asked softly.

I nodded. "It's your call. I was the one that messed up. But if you're willing to let me in and not be scared of the what if's, I'd be happy to."

He looked at me with a determination I'd never seen before. "I'd like that, Des. I really would."

I grinned. "Me too."

After the goats were fed, he went into his hut to wash up while I began setting up for our first session. Gathering the necessary supplies, I quickly worked on rearranging the living room to create a large space in the middle for us to stand. I was in the process of trying to move the sofa when he knocked.

"We're closed for remodeling," I teased as I continued trying to relocate the shockingly heavy piece of furniture. "Move, damn you."

He chuckled as he came inside. "Can I give you a hand?"

I flopped down on the floor and waved at it. "Be my guest."

Stepping up, he easily moved it to the furthest wall with a smug sneer I wanted to hate.

"If I ever need help moving, I know who to call." I got up and walked over to the console. Retrieving the four circular metal tabs that would monitor his vital signs and gather the information to project his memories, I returned to him and held them out for him to inspect. "You sure you're ready?"

"What are those for?"

"They'll monitor you while the computer creates a virtual reality based on the memories you allow it to access," I explained. "They're non-invasive, but you still have to attach two to your head and the other two to your chest. Once you're ready, the system will access your hippocampus and project the memory you're thinking about. We can pause it and discuss it or just run through it. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"You'll be here the whole time?" His eyes met mine again, begging for so much reassurance I had to ball my fist to keep from touching him. "Are you sure?"

"Bucky, there's nothing in your head I haven't seen before."

He huffed. "I doubt that."

"You'd be surprised. I've seen all the Saw movies." I smiled. "Trust me. It'll be all right. I promise."

He swallowed but finally nodded. As I started to hand over the sensors, he asked, "Could you… put them on?" When I hesitated, he added, "Please?"

Our eyes locked as he lowered the wrap from his chest and let it fall to the floor. Willing my hands not to shake, I broke our stare to look at the beautifully sculpted chest so I could apply the sensors. As I pressed down, he inhaled sharply, causing me to flinch.

"Your hands are warm, Des," he whispered, a tiny smile playing in the corner of his lips.

I rolled my eyes as I applied the remaining ones to his temples. "Yeah well, I think this Stark tech is radioactive or something. Burned the hell out of me the first time I used it so if you sprout another head, don't blame me."

"Maybe he'd be able to convince you I'm not worth saving," He teased with a little wink. "Get you to get outta here."

"Ready to get rid of me already, Mr. Barnes," I shot back. "Ruth, initiate alpha protocol level one. Barnes, James."

"Yes, Ms. Hunt."

"We'll start with something simple," I explained, stepping back. "Think of your first memory. Your childhood, maybe a first friend. Just something simple and maybe happy."

He closed his eyes. The console emitted a high-pitched whirl as the projector slowly began transforming my living room into a poorly lit laboratory. In the lab was a short man with red hair and glasses standing next to a table where a broken and bloodied Bucky lay.

I inhaled deeply as I witnessed the nightmarish roots of the Winter Soldier taking form. My heart pounded as I stepped closer to the table to see the face of the man who'd become the monster.

"This is my first memory," the real Bucky said as he came to stand beside me. "This what you meant by happy?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly, but I guess this is where we start."

Over the next several hours, we walked through the horrors of the Winter Soldier. The assassinations, the violence, and the complete lack of humanity were all there in vivid detail. Each one was so painful in their calculation and resolve that I fought myself from breaking down, knowing that any sign of weakness of my part would be his excuse to pull away again.

It seemed like we'd never find anything redeeming for me to work with when we finally found ourselves in Cuba during the height of the Cold War. The Winter Soldier was on the rooftop looking down at an ambassador from some unknown country. His hand was on the trigger just as a car pulled up in front of the distinguished man and a little girl jumped out and ran into his open arms.

"Ruth, pause the memory," I said, noticing what had been missing in all the prior memories.

"No, keep going," Bucky ordered.

"Ignore him, Ruth." I walked over to the Winter Soldier and stared at him. "Why are we here, Bucky?"

He shrugged. "You wanted to see my memories."

"But why this one? Why show me this specific memory?"

Again, he just shrugged. "I don't know. It's just something I remembered."

"Come on, Barnes," I snapped, getting in his face for the first time. "You've been sharing all the Winter Soldier's greatest hits thus far. Who cares about this guy? He's just some piss ant from some third world country. Why show off this trophy? You killed way more important people than him. Why are we here?"

He glared at me as he snarled, "I don't know."

"Ruth, enhance the Winter Soldier's trigger hand and magnify to my height." As the image expanded, I stood beside his enlarged finger, which was no longer on the trigger. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

His eyes widened in shock. "No."

"Why?"

"The kid," he mumbled, his voice breaking as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "I didn't think she deserved to see her dad die."

"Even at your worst, you were still a good person." I smiled. "It's just who you are. That's why you're worth helping. Cause you really are a good guy."

He crumbled to the floor, his entire body shaking as he silently sobbed. I knelt beside him until I couldn't stand the pain emanating from him. Carefully, I placed one arm around his shoulders then the other until I was holding his grief riddled body against me.

"It's okay," I cooed, stroking his hair. "Just let it out. You earned it."

He wrapped his arm around me as he buried his face in my chest. The warm tears fell on my skin, washing away the pain he felt as well as mine. I bit my lip to keep from crying with him. After several minutes, he looked up at me and gave a weak smile.

"Thank you, Destiny," he whispered as he leaned his forehead against my neck and let out a contented sigh. "Thank you."

"Hey. This is all you, buddy." I smiled as I started to pull away. "I didn't do anything except give you hell."

"Don't." His arm tightened around my waist. "Don't let go yet."

"Bucky, we shouldn't get too familiar," I warned both him and myself. "I don't want to be a crutch."

"I get it." Still, he held on. "It's just been a while since anyone touched me. Like this anyway. I guess I forgot what it was like to be close to another person."

"You can always touch yourself." Realizing how it sounded, we laughed. "I mean, you can lean on your inner strength too."

"I haven't done that in a long time." He grinned. "Or the other one."

"I don't wanna know." I playfully shoved him and got up. "Come on. Fix my living room and I'll make us some popcorn. We'll watch a movie before you go."

He nodded and started while I went to cook. Silently, I sent up a prayer of thanks that he didn't feel my heart beating when he held me close.