Disclaimer: I own nothing Captain America-related, not even Bucky Barnes…though I might consider asking Marvel to loan them and the rest of the Avengers to me for a while. Until then, only original characters and plots/ideas are mine.

AN: I know, I was mean for the cliffhanger last chapter, but here they are, meeting for the first time. Please enjoy, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!

Chapter 5: Roommates:

He had been anxious the entire week, waiting for the day when he could try Phil Coulson's experiment of reintegrating himself back into the world.

During that time, Bucky had been holed up in a bland, windowless, isolated room under the careful watch of Clint Barton, who always had a weapon handy and probably never slept. But in spite of the constant guard, things weren't too bad –he had food, clean clothes, and another person to keep him company, even if he was a fellow assassin.

Bucky had spent those seven whole days trying to push through the doubts that were setting in –namely the fear that this wouldn't work, and that he might unintentionally hurt the young woman he had chosen to help with his current situation.

The fear was what got to him the most. Under the direction of HYDRA, fear was something he had been unfamiliar with –his entire being had been focused on the tasks given to him by his superiors, who he obeyed without question. He'd never been afraid, never felt any emotion other than intense determination and the desire to make a successful kill.

Now he was terrified –parts of his previous personality were starting to show through, as well as a sense of morality and ethics that had been foreign to him until now. Oddly enough, those flashes of his former self were what had gotten him into the habit of calling himself by his former nickname. He had been calling himself 'Bucky' since before he'd met Agent Coulson, but as things slowly came back to him, it was making that former identity become more firmly lodged in his mind.

But even as he felt that he was Bucky Barnes, he knew there was still so much that he couldn't remember and didn't know about himself to truly feel comfortable in taking up the entirety of his past life.

Agent Barton was of little help in regards to Bucky's blocked memories, but the SHIELD agent was a superb sparring partner whenever the two of them were bored, or when Bucky had the urge to vent some of his frustrations. An hour of trying to beat the hell out of each other was the norm, though if Bucky was extremely agitated, Barton would take him to a small gymnasium-type room where Bucky could maim a punching bag (or three) to make himself feel better.

At last, just when he thought he'd start beating down the walls, Barton got word from Agent Romanoff that things were ready to go.

Bucky hadn't known what to expect, but this wasn't it. "I'm going to live here?" he asked Barton, staring up at the structure.

"That's right," Barton declared, following his line of sight. "Nice place."

Bucky had to agree. It was a two-story house, with a nice walkway leading up to several steps and a small porch with a solid wood door. There were broad windows in what he guessed was a living room, but the curtains were drawn, so he couldn't see inside.

Not that it mattered. Bucky could already tell that this was far nicer than any place he had ever stayed in during his time with HYDRA. The only places he had stayed in were run-down motel rooms, abandoned buildings, and hideouts that could easily pass as prisons (or were actually abandoned prisons). If he wasn't staying in one of those, he was back at a HYDRA base, being prepped for another mission.

"There's a piece of luggage for you in the trunk. It's got the usual necessities, like a hairbrush, toothbrush, and that sort of thing, but it's also got some books, and enough clothing to last you two weeks," Barton said, catching Bucky's attention. "After that, you'll either need to do laundry, or go buy new ones."

Bucky turned around in time to see Barton holding a credit card. "This is for your personal use. Miss Wallace has one of her own, but it's got more money on it, since it's supposed to be for both of you, and it'll be refilled more often. If you use it wisely, it'll last you month or two."

Nodding, Bucky took the card and tucked it into a breast pocket on his black jean jacket. He was still getting used to using plastic cards instead of cash –under HYDRA, he hadn't exactly had the need for money.

Barton clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything, let us know. There's a cell phone in the bag with your clothes. Good luck, Barnes."

Nodding, Bucky took a deep breath and opened the door of the car, heading to get his bag. It was time for his reeducation to begin.

The minute Anita Wallace opened the door, Bucky could see the uneasiness and fear in her eyes. She feared him, and rightly so –she knew nothing about him, other than whatever details of his dark past SHIELD had told her, and that was more than enough to make any other girl head for the hills.

For a minute, they stood there, staring at each other as they sized each other up. After a while, Bucky grew uneasy -and when he grew uneasy, he always grew agitated. Finally, he broke the silence. "Can I come in?" he quietly asked, not looking her in the eye.

"Oh!" she gasped, as if she hadn't realized what she'd been doing. "Oh, of course; come in."

He stepped into the house and looked around as the door closed behind him. It was much nicer in here than any other place he remembered staying in. Through a partially open door to the left, he could see a theater room, with a large plasma television and sound system. To the right was a large living room leading to what he assumed was a dining room. There was undoubtedly a kitchen in the back, and in the far left side, he could see two doorways: one in a wall running under the staircase that led to the second floor, and the other across from it. He was going to bet that one of those rooms was a bathroom, though what the other room was, he could only guess.

From where he stood, Bucky could look up the stairs and see a door immediately off the stairway on the left, which stood wide open. A short hallway led to the right. Whichever one led to Anita's bedroom, he would have to remember to stay away from there –she deserved to have her own personal place, away from him.

"Um, the room to the left of the stairs is yours," she muttered shyly, not looking at him in the eye. "You're welcome to put your things there." She gave a shallow swallow. "I'm making some tea, if you'd like some."

He almost sagged in relief. That she was being so calm and hospitable showed she was willing to give this situation of theirs a chance. Instead of showing his relief, however, Bucky kept himself together and decided to make a polite reply.

"Tea sounds good," he muttered as he made his way towards the stairs. "Thank you."

The bag in his hand seemed to grow heavier with every step he took up to his new quarters, and when he got there, he set it down while rubbing his eyes with the other. The metal arm that had replaced his left limb was covered by his coat and a glove, to keep from alarming his roommate; the leather was soft as could be, so that it wouldn't irritate his skin if he rubbed his eyes or face.

Opening his eyes, Bucky looked around and took in the room. There was a large bed, a desk by a window, two bedside tables with a lamp on each of them, a large dresser in the far corner, a door he presumed led to a closet, and a modest bookshelf that presently stood empty. On his immediate left was a door that led to a full bathroom that had towels and toiletries waiting for use.

Deciding to get to it, he knelt to open the duffle bag. Inside were about a dozen shirts, several pairs of pants and jeans, a few belts, and three pairs of shoes; everything was on the casual side, with the exception of a pair of dress slacks, a pair of black leather shoes, and a collared shirt.

In less than fifteen minutes, he was finished and downstairs. He found Anita at the dining table, an empty cup before her as she stared out the window. To keep from startling her, Bucky cleared his throat, which still caused her to jump.

"Wow, that was quick," she said with a weak smile. "I put the kettle on a low heat, to keep the water warm. There are a few different choices for tea, so I decided to let you pick which one you'd like best. There's a cup by the stove for you."

He'd grown fond of tea during his time with Barton –the SHIELD agent had introduced him to the "good stuff," which was vastly different from the sludge his HYDRA handlers had given him. Of them all, he preferred something with lemon and a lot of honey.

Quickly brewing up his own beverage, he took a seat at the table, directly across from Anita. "So," he said quietly, "You are Anita Wallace."

"Anna, actually," she said. "My real name is so much like my cousin Adena's that I quickly adopted a nickname."

At his puzzled expression, she explained, "I'm only a tiny bit younger than Adena is. While my mom was pregnant, she liked Adena's name so much that she decided to pick something similar to it. A nickname was sort of a necessity."

She smiled a little. "I don't mind, though. There are worse things that people could call me."

Bucky actually felt himself smile a little as he felt his façade give way a bit. "Yes, there are," he whispered in quite agreement, eyes looking down at his cup.

After a bit of an awkward pause, he looked up when he heard Anna say, "I hope you like the room, though I'm afraid it's rather bland and stark."

She gave him an apologetic look, as though it were all her fault, even if it wasn't. "If you like, I can always order things for you to decorate it with."

He looked at her in surprise, even as her own gaze turned downwards. She would do that for him? Such a kind gesture was unheard of for someone like him –still, in his state of mind, he couldn't remember experiencing many kind gestures.

"We can't do much, at first," Anna suddenly blurted out, her fingers fiddling with her mug. "I don't know what your tastes are, and we wouldn't want to go overboard by blowing our whole budget on decorating. But you should at least have some things in your room that make you more comfortable."

"Thank you," he softly replied. "I would appreciate that."

They sat in silence once more, sipping their tea for a good ten minutes as the quiet stretched between them. It was, as expected, an awkward silence, but they managed to finish their drinks somewhat comfortably. Anna, to his surprise, stood and offered to take his cup to the kitchen so that he could rest upstairs, if he wanted.

Bucky shook his head. "I'm not tired."

Anna took a deep breath as she picked up his cup. "Well, I guess we can get started, then. Why don't you go sit in the living room, and I'll come join you?"

He watched closely as she made her way to the kitchen, a troubled look on her face. It was an expression he was used to seeing, especially on people he was supposed to work with –they always feared that they might become the focus of his temper or the end of his gun.

The sound of metal expanding caught his attention -his left hand was clenched tightly, as it usually did whenever his anger started rising. With it came the sounds of the internal components of the arm getting ready to take a swing at someone or something. Those were usually followed by the screams of panic and terror that echoed through his mind, even as he reached out to-

"Bucky?" a soft, female voice asked, shocking him back to the present.

His head snapped up, eyes slightly wild as he looked for where the voice had come from. A few precious seconds went by before he realized that it was Anna, and she appeared trapped between concern and fear.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," she quietly said. "Are you okay? You look like something's bothering you."

They both waited as he took several deep breaths in a vain effort to calm down. "I'm alright," he tried to assure her.

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded all the same. "Okay. I'm going to go set up in the living room, then. You can join me when you're ready."

Bucky swallowed hard, his mind struggling to come to grips with his new living situation. After all the dangerous things he had done, sharing a house with a woman he knew nothing about (outside of stalking her and reading her personal information) was clearly out of his league.

'I should tell Coulson that this is a bad idea after all. I don't want to hurt Anna –she's an innocent.'

He then realized that, in a way, this experiment of his was already working. He hadn't become violent when he'd gotten upset, and now his primary concern wasn't trying to kill someone, but to keep them from getting killed by his own hands.

'I'll give it a few months,' he decided, eyes drifting towards the doorway that led to the living room. 'If I hurt Anna in any way, I'll let Coulson or Barton know, so they can get her out of here.'

It was the least he could do for her.

But if he was going to gain Anna's trust in any kind of way, he would have to trust her with a few of his own secrets, first.

The man in the next room was nothing like the man she had heard about for so many years of her life. Anna had seen photos of Bucky Barnes, and from what she could see, he was, and yet wasn't, the man she had learned about.

Oh, he still looked the same, save for the longer hair and the stubble, but there was a deep pain in those clear, bright blue eyes that hurt her down to her soul. Natasha had said that he'd been brainwashed and experimented on by HYDRA, which was basically SHIELD's opposite, but Anna knew that worse things had been done to him.

'He's been tortured,' she thought, horrified by the realization.

If that were the case (and she had no doubts that it was), then there was no possible way that she could ever imagine the things he had gone through. And given that he hadn't aged a day since he'd disappeared, HYDRA had to have done some pretty horrible things to keep him looking like this for so long.

'Either that, or they stuck him in a cryogenic chamber.' Anna remembered hearing her uncles and father talking about it from some kind of book they'd read recently. But other than that, there really was no other explanation for Bucky's youth, especially after seven decades.

Lord, it did sound like a science fiction book, didn't it? Or some kind of spy or psychological thriller, perhaps?

Sighing, she picked up the laptop that Natasha had provided and brought up the most basic materials on Bucky that she had found on it. The more detailed, top-secret stuff could only be activated through a series of fingerprint entries and facial features scan, which she did not want to provide –not when the subject was in the very next room.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew her attention to the door and the tall man who stood there, clearly unsure of what to do next. She could tell that he wanted to come in, but didn't want to do so unless she invited him, though she had already asked him to join her.

"Come on in," she said, patting the sofa seat beside her. "Take a seat."

He hesitated. "I need to show you something, first. I need you to know about it, so that you fully realize what you're dealing with."

At those words, a shiver ran down her spine. Should she be scared right now? Was he going to demonstrate the different ways he knew how to kill someone, so that she could plan her future escape (or funeral) accordingly?

To her surprise, he reached up and pulled off his black jacket, taking the black leather glove on his left hand with it. When she saw the gleam of metal, she gasped.

He had a metal arm!

"Oh, my god," she whispered as he slowly moved towards her, offering her the gleaming, false limb. Why hadn't Natasha mentioned that detail?

'She probably figured I'd make a run for it after I found out,' Anna thought bitterly as she took in the sight. And maybe she would have, but Anna knew that she had the right to know about something like this!

Even though the sight of it made her uneasy, Anna had to admit that it was like nothing she had ever seen before. Thanks to the black tank top he was wearing, Anna could see that the entire metallic shell of the arm went straight from his fingers all the way to his shoulder, and a little further. The metal seemed to form into the flesh, and from where she sat, Anna could see that there were at least a dozen veins, large and small, running from his torso under the metal arm. She wondered whether his entire left arm was gone, or if there was something for the false limb to fit onto.

"You have questions," he flatly stated. "I can see it in your face."

Yes, she did, and they were too many to count. Rather than blurt them all out, she again motioned towards the seat next to her. This wasn't supposed to be about her –it was about him. She was supposed to help him, and this was as good a chance as any to get things rolling.

"Why don't you tell me about it, instead of having me flood you with questions?" She gave him a shaky smile. "It'll give you a chance to work on conversation skills, and interacting with people."

He looked unsure as to whether she was being sincere or not, but after appearing to think about it, he did as she asked. It was then that she got a full, good look at his arm, including the large red star that appeared to be engraved into the left bicep. As her eyes darted from the upper arm down to his hand, she watched in amazement as the fingers moved, just like the real thing.

"From the little I remember, I lost my arm after I fell during my last mission with the Allied Forces," Bucky softly explained. "HYDRA's agents found me in the frozen tundra, my memories gone or damaged by the fall, and took me to one of their bases. There, they operated on me, removing the diseased parts of my arm and attaching this one to replace it.

"Back then, the technology for such a thing was limited, but they still somehow managed to make it function like a real arm. They told me I was to be their new weapon, an assassin that would remove the ones who stood in the way of HYDRA's plans for Earth's future."

Anna swallowed hard, not sure if she wanted to know what kind of world those people had in mind.

"In order to preserve my youth and keep me under control, they kept me 'on ice.'" Bucky looked at his hand and wiggled his fingers. "They only brought me out to upgrade my arm, give me a bit of an update on current events, and instruct me on my next assignment."

He swallowed heavily. "When I was out of the ice chamber, they treated me like an animal. I suppose, in a way, I was –I attacked when they told me to, and did as they ordered, obeying without much thought of doing otherwise. Since my past memories were gone, I had only HYDRA's orders to hold on to, so I did whatever they wanted."

There was a pause. "Then they told me they wanted Captain America eliminated. I'm sure you heard about how a fight had broken out on a freeway in Washington D.C."

Anna's throat went dry. She'd heard about the fight between her cousin's husband and a masked assailant, and had heard that the Captain had been taken in by SHIELD operatives, in order to "keep him safe." Clearly that hadn't been true, but she hadn't made the connection between the assailant and Bucky –until now.

"That was you?" she whispered, once again wondering if she was safe from him. If he'd gone after his former best friend, what would he do to her?

He nodded, obviously ashamed of what he had done. "I didn't know who he was, then. HYDRA had ordered me to eliminate him at any cost, so I knew that he had to be important. I'd even looked forward to it, since I'd always been told that the Captain was an enemy of HYDRA and its late leader, Red Skull. So when they gave me this challenge, I accepted it without question.

"I hadn't expected any difficulty with this assignment, but things seemed to go wrong from the start. We hadn't counted on the Captain having friends with him, or that those friends would be so skilled in fighting. Things were louder and more chaotic than anticipated, but after a hard fight, I still managed to get the Captain alone."

"During my hand-to-hand fight with him, I discovered that he was as well-trained as I was. The fight was almost brutal, and just as I felt I was about to win, Agent Romanoff fired on me with a weapon which knocked my mask off. That was when he recognized me and called out the name 'Bucky.'"

The haunted look that flashed in his blue eyes struck a chord inside Anna's heart. She'd never seen anyone look so tired and scared. "And after you heard that name again, your memories started coming back?" she gently asked, trying to keep him talking.

He nodded. "I felt as though I were lost in a fog. Vague memories, thoughts, feelings, and questions filled my head to the point of me shutting down entirely. When I didn't respond to the command of my superiors, they strapped me into a machine so that they could wipe my memories. In the past, if I ever gave the slightest inclination that I was going to disobey, they would strap me to a chair and send electric currents into my brain, trying to erase any bit of resistance.

"But these memories were too strong, even for their machines to deal with. Since then, I've been trying to recover even the tiniest fraction of the man I once was."

He looked at his left hand as though it were a curse -or worse, a symbol of who he had become and what he had lost forever. Watching the torment in his eyes, Anna decided to put aside her fear and take a chance.

She reached out and put her right hand onto the back of his left. "I could tell you that I'm sorry for what you've been through, and try to assure you that everything will be okay. But I won't, because it won't do any good –not right now. You've literally been through hell, and are still going through it, though you're doing your best to recover."

Her fingers gently pressed against the metal in a feather-light squeeze. "All I can say is that I'm going to try my best to help you. I don't know if I can, but I'm going to give it my best shot. At worst, we'll be able to put up with one another; at best, we'll become friends."

She smiled at him. "What do you think, Bucky?"

He stared down at the fingers on his hand, like it was something incredibly fragile he was afraid would break if he moved. As the silence stretched on, she thought that maybe he wasn't going to speak, perhaps because she had pushed too hard.

Then his hand turned over and gently closed over hers. "I would like that…Anna."

AN: Review?