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: Here's the newest chapter. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!

Chapter 7: Of Art and Books:

Anna had to admit that she hadn't expected Bucky to be so eager to get to work on prepping his new 'sanctuary,' but she was surprised at how into it he got. The very day she'd ordered everything, he had gone straight into the room and began moving things around.

The first thing he took care of were the decorations she'd put up. It wasn't that he didn't like them; he simply felt it was best to start clean and work from there. Anna agreed with this, and took no offence as he began to clear the walls and store everything in a box in the hallway.

Today, as soon as breakfast was done, he went to take care of the bookshelves. They were actually two sets of two separate shelves, all stacked on top of each other. Anna guessed that four smaller pieces were easier for people to move, rather than one huge floor-to-ceiling piece, but when she saw Bucky pick one set up all on his own, she couldn't help but be shocked at his strength. In fact, she stood there, staring, as he hauled the shelving down the hallway and into the theater room. She only snapped out of it when she heard him calling her.

The instant she entered the entertainment room, Anna was greeted to the sight of Bucky, the shelves in his hands as he asked her where she wanted him to put them. She somehow managed to stammer out an answer, and watched as he placed it exactly where she'd indicated, all with little effort.

As Bucky headed back to the study to retrieve the second set of shelving, Anna couldn't hold back the nervousness that swelled up inside her. She'd known he was a killer, but had assumed that his skills were mostly in weaponry, like guns and knives. That was why she'd taken care to hide the more dangerous kitchen cutlery, though the blunter butter knives were where they should be.

Natasha had warned her a bit about Bucky's strength when she'd first brought Anna to the house, but watching him lift a set of fifty pound shelves without breaking a sweat was more than enough to shake her. Oh, she admired that he could do it, but it also showed how easily he could hurt her with just his bare hands.

'How am I going to handle things if he ever loses his temper?' she fearfully thought, her mind drifting to all sorts of escape plans she should form, just in case. He hadn't harmed her so far, but she wanted to be prepared for the worst, if it should happen. She resolved to get started on it when he was asleep, so that he wouldn't catch her and get curious about what she was doing.

For now, she watched as the second set of shelves was put atop the first, while the third and fourth were set up in the living room. Both rooms now looked a bit crowded, but the dark wood of the shelves stood out nicely against the pale walls and gave them a cozy look that Anna liked. She also had a dozen little knickknacks that she could scatter around, so that the spaces wouldn't look so empty.

'That'll work for now, until I get some new books to put on them,' she thought with a little humor. Then a realization hit her.

Heading into the hallway, she called out, "You'll need books."

All sound in the study ceased as Bucky stopped whatever it was he was doing. There was a small pause before he popped his head out the door, a puzzled frown on his face.

"What?" he asked, clearly wondering if he'd heard her correctly.

"You'll need books," she replied. "I don't know how caught up on literature and popular culture you are, but either way, you'll need something to occupy yourself when you aren't working out."

She ginned as she took in the sight of his disbelieving expression. "Besides, you'll need to exercise your mind, as well as your body. We'll go online after we finish setting up your workout room, and you can pick whatever types of books you're interested in."

The surprise on his face faded to blankness, just before he pulled back into the other room. Anna found herself puzzled about his actions. He did know how to read, right? He had to, since he'd been in the Army and everything.

Confused about his change in attitude, she made her way to the end of the hall and poked her head into the room. "Bucky? Is something wrong?"

The room looked much emptier without the shelves, even if the desk still remained. The wall hangings were gone as well, leaving bare, blandness where bright color had been.

Standing by the window overlooking the backyard was Bucky, a scowl on his face as he watched a bird feed in the grass. He seemed to be struggling with something, and Anna knew that she needed to ask him what that was.

"Bucky? Did I say something to offend you?" she softly asked.

He turned towards her, blue eyes filled with helplessness. "I don't know what kind of books I like," he admitted, torn between sadness and anger.

Anna immediately felt like slapping herself for being an idiot. Of course he didn't remember his favorite kinds of books! 'If Director Coulson saw how much I've messed this up already, he'd fire me right now, without paying me a cent.'

"Well, we can turn that around fairly quickly," she said, trying to be cheerful. "How about I loan you some of mine? If you like something, let me know, and I can see what else I can find in that genre, or by that author. What do you say?"

The room was quiet as she stood there, counting her breaths as she waited for his reply. Seconds ticked by, and finally, Bucky let out a sharp, heavy sigh.

"I'm not angry with you, Anna," he said, not making eye contact with her. "Not really. I'm just angry and frustrated at not being able to remember a favorite book or movie. My memories are only coming to me in flashes, and even then, they only last a second."

Anna's sympathy for him surged upwards several notches, to the point where she felt brave enough to step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The muscles there clenched at the sensation of being touched, but quickly relaxed as she kept her hand there, unmoving as she offered what comfort she could.

"I wish I could just snap my fingers and make it all come back to you, but I can't," she whispered. "What I can do is promise to help you as best I can. So, for this particular instance, would you like to look at my book collection and see what looks interesting to you? Maybe something will help jog your memories."

Again she waited, her hand lingering on his shoulder as she counted her heartbeats, her mind wondering if this was when Bucky might lose his temper and lash out.

The next breath he took was a long, slow one, meant to calm his mood down. "That sounds fine. I'll follow you upstairs. When we're done, I'll come back and finish this room."

Following Anna up the stairs to her room, Bucky wanted to find a way to simultaneously kick and punch himself. He'd frightened and upset her; her face had said it all, and it had been his fault.

'I have to learn to control myself better,' he lectured himself, eyes trained on the steps as he headed upwards.

She was only trying to be kind to him, and he'd practically torn a hole in the wall simply because she'd asked about books. Books, of all things!

It wasn't that he hated books –he'd just never gotten the chance to touch one. It hadn't hit him until now that although he could read quite well, he'd never been able to sit and read an actual text. He'd always seen them in the hands of other people, but HYDRA hadn't been big on letting him have much 'recreational time.' The only things he'd been allowed to read were files HYDRA had on his intended victims, and those had not been the least bit fun to read.

The rare moments he'd had actual time to himself was on the way back to a HYDRA hideout, where he would either be given another assignment or put into suspended animation until they needed his services again. During that period of travel, his thoughts had mostly resembled that of a caged animal: edgy and longing for freedom, even as he was focusing on the armed keepers around him.

But now he had free time, and he needed to keep himself occupied somehow. Like Anna had said: exercise was all well and good, but he needed to engage his mind as well; reading would help. He'd already read some books given to him by Agent Barton and Phil Coulson, and they had been helpful in passing time, but he wanted something he could actually enjoy.

He looked up in time to watch Anna open the door to her room, and without waiting, he followed her inside.

The first thing that hit him was how warm and comfortable it felt.

On the far side of the room, the wood shelves stood full of books, top to bottom. There were even category labels stuck to the front of some of the shelves, probably leftover from her unpacking, so that she could decide where to put each genre according to her preference. From left to right, the genres were: science-fiction; fantasy; classic English literature; and American literature. A final set of space was labeled 'miscellaneous,' likely for anything that didn't fit anywhere else. He could see a few comic books and anime books there, some well-worn, some new and unread.

His eyes drifted from the bookcases to the other walls, which were hung with elegant fabrics in warm colors, such as red, orange, golden yellow and a light golden brown.

The way the fabrics were hung triggered a memory, one about him watching a film with an exotic, elegant tent in a desert oasis.

Pulling his mind back to the present, Bucky looked over the numerous decorations, collections of seashells scattered about, and other things that made the room a cozy and relaxing place to stay during the day, particularly a rainy one.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, looking around in appreciation. He could only dream of achieving this sort of thing in his own room.

She chuckled. "Thanks. I'm a bit of a hoarder and art-lover by nature, though. My move here gave me a chance to decide what items I loved most, and what I felt I could live without. I was also able to finally get organized, which I most certainly am not!"

Bucky shook his head. It was hard to believe that Anna was as she described herself, considering how great the place looked. He wondered if it would be alright to ask for her help in decorating his own room, so that it didn't look and feel so dull.

"If you'd like, I can help with your room," she said, as though she'd read his thoughts. "You can have the blue fabric that you took down in the downstairs study. They'd look great in your bedroom, and blue is supposed to be a nice calming color. It might do you some good."

He didn't like the idea of taking something that was hers, especially since the fabric must have cost a lot of money. It was tempting, but it still made him feel guilty.

But when he mentioned it to her, Anna only shook her head with a smile. "I have fabrics of all sorts of colors, so don't worry. One of my aunts went through a fad where she wanted to make her own clothes, until she realized she couldn't sew to save her life. She practically threw them at me when I asked to have them, and I've used them for decorating ever since."

Bucky actually found himself laughing a little at her story, which only made her smile even wider. "Seriously, the blue ones are yours. I've already been through my 'blue faze,' and I've found that I like the warmer colors better."

"Thank you," he said, meaning every word.

She blushed a little before turning towards the bookcases, clearly attempting to hide her embarrassment. "Now, about which ones you might want…"

It took almost an hour to get through Anna's collection, but when he was finished, Bucky had a nice stack of eight books in his arms.

The genres varied, but some were classics that Anna said were usually required reading in English Literature classes. He had a few from Charles Dickens, as well as one or two from Jane Austen, and some young adult books that were Anna's favorites.

"I would offer you a book from my Shakespeare section, but even I have a hard time getting through it," she admitted. "It'll either bore you to death, or frustrate you, and I'd rather not find out which one you'll be."

She'd meant it as a joke, but they both knew it was the truth. Still, Bucky was very grateful for her generosity, and made sure to thank her repeatedly as he hauled his stack of treasure to his own room. Once he'd set the books aside on his desk, he looked around the barren room. Anna was right: it needed decorating.

He quickly rushed downstairs for the materials that had been left in a box downstairs. Within minutes, he was upstairs again, where Anna stood looking at him with an amused glimmer in her eyes.

"Need help?" she teased, causing him to smile back.

"I think I do," he admitted. "I'm not sure how to hang them so that they look like yours."

In less than an hour, the walls of his room were changed. Three different shades of blue fabric draped in layers from the ceiling, the bottom of the last layer resting a third of the way down his wall. Anna had even let him put up a few of the beach paintings, which completed the calming theme she had suggested.

"We'll order more decorations later," she told him as they finished putting up the last painting above his desk. "Let's take a break for lunch, shall we? I'll go make some ham sandwiches and a pot of soup. You can either finish here, or go do whatever you want until I call you, okay?"

Bucky agreed, and decided to take a book to read in the dining room as he waited for lunch. As much as he wanted to help her in the kitchen, he knew it would be a bad idea. He had no skills when it came to cooking, and would mostly likely ruin anything he attempted to make.

'If I'm going to poison anyone with my food, I'd rather it just be me.'

He'd managed to make his own food his first few days at the house, but it had all been prepared or ready-to-heat items that weren't too hard to work with. Anything more complicated than that, and he was in trouble.

After lunch, the two once again settled down for some online purchasing. Bucky had decided that he rather liked Charles Dickens, and would like to start a collection of his own. Anna approved of his choice, and bought him an elegant, leather-bound collection. He argued that he didn't need anything fancy, but she insisted.

"You should have something nice," she said as she submitted the order. "Besides, nothing beats a leather-bound collection of books!"

She asked him about more decorations for his room, but Bucky decided against ordering anything else. "I have enough so far," he firmly told her. "If I change my mind, I'll let you know."

Anna agreed, and the two of them left the laptop at the table as they headed towards the living room. There, Bucky settled onto the immensely comfortable couch with his book while Anna stood and stared at the empty bookshelves that he had just setup there.

Several minutes passed before Bucky realized that she hadn't moved an inch. Glancing up from his book, he saw her staring at the empty bookcase, a thoughtful look on her face. Somehow, he managed to figure out that she was thinking of various ways to fill them, either with books or trinkets of some kind, or both. He wouldn't mind if it were both –the place could use a little more color.

"How are you doing?" she suddenly asked him. "I know that this has all been weird for both of us, but I just realized that I never actually asked how you were holding up after experiencing so much change in your life."

He was surprised at her question, but oddly enough, it didn't bother him. He actually found it rather pleasant, having someone actually be concerned for him. HYDRA hadn't bothered caring, beyond whether or not he was injured to the point of being useless to them.

Since Anna was truly worried about him, he carefully considered his answer.

"I'm as fine as anyone could be in this situation," he slowly replied. "Since I escaped, I've been struggling to remember who I was, and wondering if I could ever be that man again."

The smile she gave him was warm and genuine. "I don't know if that's possible, after everything you've been through," she said truthfully. "But we'll give it a shot. You might be able to recover a good portion of your old self, but you'll need to merge the two together. You aren't just Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier –you're both, and you're going to have to learn to live with both those personalities, along with your memories and experiences."

She paused and shifted uneasily on her feet. "And what about HYDRA?" she quietly asked. "Should we be concerned about them?"

As she watched, Bucky shook his head. "I don't know. I left them after the fight involving the Helicarriers in Washington D.C. They are currently in disarray, since Agent Romanoff leaked so many of their files and secrets onto the Internet, but eventually, they'll figure out I'm starting to remember my past and that I've abandoned them."

After a moment's pause, Anna couldn't help but quietly ask, "Do you think they'll come after you? I mean, you were one of their greatest weapons. People like them don't like to lose things, not for any reason. They might try to track you down and drag you back to work for them."

Part of her shivered in fear and nervousness as Bucky was quiet for a moment. But when he next spoke, his voice was cold as ice and hard as steel. "They can try all they want –I'm not going back. They'll try to kill me, to fight and force me, but I won't do it. I've had enough killing."

Those bright blue eyes of his were like glaciers as he looked over at her. "I won't let them hurt you, either, Anna" he told her, his metal hand clenching so hard that she heard some of it bend a little out of shape. "If they want you, they'll have to get through me."

Anna took a breath as she realized that he really meant what he said. If anyone tried to come after her, they'd have to deal with Bucky to do it, and she had no doubts that it would be his Winter Soldier persona that would show up to the fight.

Touched by his honesty, she went over and sat next to him, placing a gentle hand on his metal one. "Thank you, Bucky. I know that we haven't known each other long, but thank you for thinking well enough of me to offer your protection."

The smile that he wore was a sad and weak one. "I've done a lot of terrible things, Anna. I guess you could say that protecting you is sort of my way of making up for a little of it."

That was good enough for her. "Okay, then. I'm going to leave you to your book, while I go to my room and try to figure out how to best fill these shelves."

With one last smile, she turned and headed upstairs.

As soon as she was out of sight, Bucky let out a heavy sigh. Physical contact of any kind, outside of hand-to-hand combat, was still new to him, but at least Anna understood that. For that, he was very grateful to her.

Looking back at his metal fingers, he wondered what she felt whenever she touched him. Was it fear of what could be done with that single limb? Or maybe a bit of curiosity and fascination?

Focusing on his book, he could only hope that it was the latter, rather than the former. Maybe, one day, he'd have the courage to ask her.

AN: Review?