Thanks to those still reading and leaving reviews. In this chapter, a bond is beginning to develop between Alex and Bucky. All errors are as usual my own and unintentional and i would also love to hear your thoughts.

Italics: flashbacks, thoughts, that kinda thing :)

Updates will be slower than usual from today, family vacation is happening imminently and my writing time will be curtailed a little til then.

Edited to fix a Britishism that had sneakily snuck into the chapter, damn it... ;)

I'm a fruit decaying on the ground…

Gabe always says that the full moon brings out the wildest of souls and tonight each cubicle is filled with them. She walks past each one on her way to the latest emergency, her mind filled with potential scenarios that will demand her attention and expertise, embracing how her heart pumps as she experiences the familiar sharp rush of adrenaline flooding through her veins.

But just like that, the energy fades and is replaced by a thick heavy blanket of apprehension. It condenses the atmosphere around her into something more tangible.

She hears the footsteps then; slow, heavy, deliberate. They echo loudly around an otherwise busy room.

Activity buzzes around her but yet all she can hear are those footsteps above it all.

She pauses when she realises she can't hear anything else. Stops and turns her head. Doctors, nurses, patients, they're all busy, occupied, rushing about, demanding attention, giving medical assistance as usual but it's like someone has turned the volume down. She frowns at them, wondering why, how this could be happening. She can still hear those heavy deliberate footsteps and it sets her heart pounding, fear sliding through her veins, sweat to pop out on her forehead. She tells herself that she doesn't know why but she does know and those footsteps are getting closer, louder.

And then they stop.

He rises up in front of her, a malevolent shadow. Can't make out his face but she knows him. She knows him. She recognises him. Is afraid of him. Turns to run away, to get to safety but her feet refuse to move. She looks down at them, willing them to go, to take her away from here but it's as though her brain and her feet no longer have the ability to communicate and she's stuck fast. She can't get away.

She knows what happens next, she always knows what's going to happen next. Heart is almost bursting out of her chest and she looks up with wide eyes to face him. Takes a deep breath, opens her mouth to plead.

He stands there, so close to her that if she reaches out, she'll be able to touch him but she doesn't. Her mouth is dry but she opens it to speak to him, to plead but nothing emerges but a weak hoarse squeak. No words. He stands there, a dark shape, eyes filled with hate and lifts the weapon he holds in his right hand and aims it at her. His bright coloured eyes are filled with ice, with open blatant hatred.

"Please…" she manages to whisper through numb lips though she knows he can't hear her. "Please."

"Bitch," he curses her and pulls the trigger.

She jerks awake as the sound of gunfire fills her ears, gasping out loud, hand clutching at her chest. Heart racing. Her eyes wheel around the room, cast in the long dark shadows of dusk. Turns her head and sees Bucky lying asleep in bed, still for once, his right arm curled around his head, dark hair tossed across his face. She's panting as once more her eyes take in her surroundings, looking for him in the shadows even though logically she knows he isn't there. She's sitting on the floor beside Bucky's bed, head resting against the mattress. She turns her head back to him but he hasn't moved. She has no idea of the time nor of how long she's been asleep. Carefully she straightens up, her ass feels numb being seated on such a hard wooden floor and she slowly gets to her feet, grimacing at protesting muscles. Once more she looks at him but he's still sound asleep. She stretches and slowly hobbles out.

She goes into the kitchen, switching on a light. Her heart still thrums in her chest, residual adrenaline still sparks through her central nervous system. She wipes at her face. In the past a glass of wine would help ease her after a bad dream but she goes to the tea kettle instead and she fills it from the faucet, returning it to the stove and switching it on. Tea helps nowadays. A cup of tea in her hand, steaming away while her thoughts collect and settle.

Damn it, it's been a while since the dream last visited her in such vivid detail. Recently it's just been vague hints, a mild threat felt rather than seen. She chews on her lower lip as she waits for the kettle to boil. She knows he's not here and never will be but she's unsettled, twitchy at the quiet that surrounds her.

She didn't mean to fall asleep but looking after Bucky since before dawn has taken its toll. It's been a rough few hours since he almost crushed Callum's throat. He's tried to drink some water but it didn't stay down and he vomited it all up almost as soon as he consumed it. He's tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable and failed. She's almost called Gabe a few times but what could he do? What could he do that she couldn't do herself? He still refuses the offer of painkillers, won't tell her why, just closes his eyes and clenches his jaw against the pain throbbing through him.

The kettle boils and she goes through the process of making tea. She feels a tingle at the back of her neck and as she turns, she sees Bucky standing beside the kitchen island. Her eyes widen in surprise.

"Hey. Didn't hear you come in." She eyes him. He's upright, which means something but still spectre pale, skin pulled taut over high cheekbones. "I'd ask whether you'd like some tea but I'm not sure you'll be able to keep it down," she continues. She sees how his eyes flick to the cup on the bench and the steaming kettle in her hand.

"Stomach doesn't hurt anymore," he mumbles.

Alex's eyes widen in mild surprise. "That's good to hear." Very good; stomach spasms with withdrawal can last for days. "Would you like to try some tea or some more water?" she asks.

"Tea," he answers. Alex nods and retrieves another cup from the cupboard which housed her own.

Bucky watches her make tea, taking down a delicate looking tea cup from a cupboard and pop something inside of it and pour boiling water into it.

He remembers his ma drinking tea. A pink and white tea cup with gold edging. There was a tiny chip in the saucer but she loved it all the same.

He blinks and watches as Alex places the cup in front of him and then pulls out the stool in front of him.

"Sit down," she gently instructs and watches as he hitches a hip and does exactly that. She follows suit but she's careful to maintain a safe distance between them. She picks up her cup and takes a cautious sip, watching him as he looks down at the brew.

"I have milk and sugar if you'd prefer?" she asks when he makes no attempt to pick the cup up. He lifts his eyes to her face, carefully shakes his head.

"It's fine," he whispers.

"Hopefully it'll help settle your stomach, tea can be good for that. Coffee is too harsh for a sensitive stomach I find."

His flesh and blood hand trembles slightly as he scoops the cup up, wrapping long fingers around the curve of it and he slowly lifts it to his lips and takes a slow, experimental sip.

"My…mother…used to think so too," he murmurs, voice rusty, once he lowers it back down again, his tongue swiping at his lower lip.

Alex widens her eyes slightly at this tiny piece of shared information.

"Your mom drinks tea?"

He looks at her over the rim of the cup as he takes another sip, satisfied that his stomach hasn't revolted at the first mouthful.

"She did," he answers just as quietly and she gets the subtle message, the past tense.

"I mean coffee is good and all, especially first thing in the morning when you need that extra little jolt but not when you're recovering." She pauses, closing her mouth and gives a little shake of her head. "Sorry. I'm babbling," she apologises.

"It's okay."

"Some might say it's annoying," she tells him.

"I don't."

She dimples a smile at him. "Give me a couple of days and you might change your mind," she tells him and then stops and looks down at her own cup and he sees a blush heat her cheeks.

"Sorry. I'll be quiet now," she tells him, not meeting his eyes.

He watches her, wondering what's got her so on edge. He takes a breath.

"She used to drink tea out of a pink and white tea cup, the only one she had," he tells her.

"You bought the tea cup for her?" she guesses.

He slowly shrugs one shoulder in response.

"What was her name?" she asks softly.

He opens his mouth to tell her but halts. His mind is blank, the static is back. He can't remember.

He closes his mouth once more and sighs with a subtle shake of his head. He can remember that she drank tea, that he bought her that pink and white cup but not her name?

Damn it. Names are really avoiding him at the moment

Alex regards him for a moment and she sees the shutters coming down again.

"Can I ask you something?"

His eyes flick back to her face but he doesn't answer but waits for her question all the same.

"Who's Steve?" she asks, keeping her voice low. She sees his eyes widen marginally as he looks away from her, staring at a spot in front of him. She sees how he worries his bottom lip as he seems to mull it over.

"A friend, I think," he eventually replies and she frowns slightly.

"You think?"

He looks back at her. "I don't really remember," he admits. "Why?"

"Because you called Callum that when you grabbed him by the throat earlier today," she replies and she sees the shock blossom on his face, quickly masked.

"I…" He just shakes his head.

"He's okay, he understood. I told him you were sick but you had a pretty good hold on him, I thought I wasn't going to be able to get you to let go of him in time."

He remembers a sudden sharp pain in his left hand side, just below his ribs. His expression is speculative as he looks back at her. She just shrugs nonchalantly.

"I've learned a few things," she murmurs, reading the question in his eyes.

"I'm sorry…I don't remember…that. It's not a good impression to make on your boss," he softly confesses and once more she shrugs.

"Perhaps, if he was my boss which he isn't."

"You told me he runs the bar."

"And he does, he doesn't own it though, or the building."

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise. "You do?"

"I do. It's a long story." She drains her tea cup and gets to her feet, going to the sink to rinse it out.

"Seems you have one or two of those." His voice is quiet and strangely non-judgemental. Alex turns and she looks at him.

"I could say the same of you."

"I…" Once more words fail him. He rests his right elbow on the bench top and rubs at his forehead with his fingers, a mild frown on his face.

"Headache?"

"Yeah," he murmurs back, feeling it throb behind his eyes. He hears her approach him and he lowers his hand and turns his head in her direction.

"Yet you won't take any pain pills."

He regards her and decides to take a small chance with her.

"Because they won't work on me. I burn through them too quick for them to do anything."

She sits back down beside him. "I've never heard of that before."

He wants to tell her that she's never heard of him before but doesn't. Just lets out a quiet sigh instead, looking away from her face, staring at the bench top instead.

"It'll be a residual effect of whatever it is you're coming down from."

He looks back at her at her pronouncement.

"You make me sound like a…" He frowns as he tries to remember the word.

"Addict? Junkie?" she suggests and watches how his eyes widen. "Aren't you?"

He just shakes his head.

"No…I'm not…I'm not that," he whispers.

"Then what are you?" she asks him.

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Soldat. The Asset. The Winter Soldier.

Any of them. All of them. None of them.

"I don't know," he confesses.

He watches as once more she gets to her feet.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks her in a low voice as she heads to a floor cupboard situated in front of him. She pauses and looks at him and her eyes become wide with surprise.

"No. Why would you think you should leave?"

"Because I'm nothing but trouble it would seem." He watches her pull a plain black backpack out of the cupboard and place it on the bench in front of him.

"You're not trouble though I will agree that you're a challenge but I welcome those. No, for whatever reason, you don't trust me and why should you because we've just met but you're no better or worse than anyone else I've helped in the past."

She unzips the backpack and he sees the stethoscope she lifts out and he looks up at her. She looks into his eyes, recognising the mutinous expression.

"Please. I need to do this. I just want to take a listen to your chest, your lungs, that kind of thing. The time you take in fussing over it, I could be done and dusted twice over," she sighs.

"You said you don't practice medicine any more," he reminds her.

"It doesn't mean that I can't."

"I heal quick," he mumbles.

"So I can see but I still need to check you over. Will you at least trust me for five minutes while I do?" she requests, holding his gaze.

'You don't trust me and why should you because we've just met…'

Her words echo inside of his head. She hasn't given him cause to not trust her, she's kept her word ever since their first encounter outside. His sigh is quiet.

"Okay," he agrees.

"I also want to check your shoulder too, just in case I need to put that sling back on," she tells him as she picks up her stethoscope and approaches him.

"My shoulder is fine," he answers.

Alex stares at him for a moment.

"Let me be the judge of that," she replies calmly and the look he sends her is distinctly non-compliant. She stares at him until he's the first one to look away.

"Fine," he sighs.

"Thank you," she tells him. He watches her as she unfolds the stethoscope and slowly approaches him. She pushes the ear pieces into her ears and he sees her rub the disc part against her t-shirt before she returns her attention to him.

"You need to turn and face me," she tells him and he slowly swivels around so that he is. She glances into his eyes as she reaches for the bottom of his t-shirt and she slowly lifts it. She can't see any sign of the bruises she saw there the day before, they've completely vanished. There's no fading or changing colours of a healing bruise, they're just not there.

He remains still as she presses the disc against his upper chest and sees the look of complete concentration on her face as she listens. She then drops the hem of his t-shirt and moves around behind him. The back of his neck prickles when he feels her lift his t-shirt again and he feels both hands clench into fists.

"Slow deep breath and hold," she instructs in a low voice. He blinks but doesn't move.

"Bucky? Deep breath," she reminds him and she waits. Eventually, finally he does.

She moves the disc along his back and then down a little and listens, each time asking him to breathe and feeling a little tick of relief when he complies. Satisfied, she removes her stethoscope and hooks it around her shoulders and comes around to stand in front of him. She smiles at him when he eventually lifts his eyes and he looks at her.

"Everything sounds great. Just need to do another check…"

He watches as she replaces her stethoscope into the backpack and she takes out a small narrow looking implement that he then realises is a thin flashlight when she clicks it on and off and the beam blinks on and off accordingly. She looks back at him and pauses when she sees his frown.

"I just need to shine this in your eyes, check the pupil reflexes, it's the final test I promise before I look at your shoulder," she tells him when she sees how he clenches his jaw.

He recoils the first time the beam of light flashes across his left eye and he gives a tiny gasp of alarm. He's barely aware of Alex in front of him as she repeats the procedure with his right eye, she flicks it quickly across his line of vision but it makes his heart bump in his chest and he pulls away, blinking, seeing flashes of light flutter behind his eyelids.

'Wipe him then start over'

The mouth guard is placed between his teeth; he accepts it now, never used to and once upon a time his handlers didn't even give him that. Restraints clamp around his arms, his left forearm, right upper arm and forearm and he gives a gasp as he's yanked back into the chair and held firm by the strength of the bonds.

He can hear the machine hum into place, knows what's coming next. Sees the plates in his peripheral vision as they move, slide to either side of his head, press up against his skull, against his skin. Trembles as he prepares himself, breath heaving in his lungs, hands clenched tight, getting ready, getting ready…. This time he won't scream. He knows what to expect now. Startles when the plates press more firmly, hears the buzz and crackle of the electricity. Screams as it pulses through him.

Alex feels him flinch. Her eyes go wide and she quickly clicks the little flashlight off, dropping it onto the bench surface beside her. His eyes are wide, staring off into space, fixed and lost. She remembers the same expression crossing his face the day before downstairs when she warned Gabe to be careful.

"Bucky?" She keeps her voice low, sees and hears how his breath begins to saw in his lungs, hands clenched tightly. He's scared of something but she doesn't know what.

"Hey," she murmurs, watching him, looking down at his hands before looking back into his eyes. They're glassy looking, over full. He shivers very slightly.

"Bucky…" Carefully she places her hands on his, wrapping her fingers around his right hand, feeling the smooth cool metal of his left.

"Everything is okay do you hear me? I need you to concentrate on the sound of my voice. You're with me in my apartment and you're safe. Nothing and nobody can hurt you. You need to try and breathe, can you do that, can you remember how we did it earlier? Deep breath in and hold for the count of five and exhale, can you do that? Can you copy me? Breathe, Bucky." She tightens her grip on him as she takes a slow deep breath, her eyes not leaving his face but he still shakes and trembles and she hears the whimper that he tries to swallow down. She lets go of him and she lifts both hands to his face, framing the sides, thumbs gently rubbing beneath his cheekbones.

"Look at me Bucky, focus on me, on my face. Try to listen to my voice. Whatever is going on inside of your head, it's not real. You're here with me in my kitchen and you're safe," she tells him. She repeats the mantra over and over and startles when his hands all of a sudden come up and clamp around her wrists and he's back with her, right there, staring into her eyes, still quivering. Her own eyes are wide with trepidation as she stares back, the intensity of his gaze burning into her.

She lets go of him and lowers her hands, his still clamped around her wrists. He releases his hold and gives a deep sigh and she sees the tremors that ripple through him, that tiny little frown between his eyes. She bites her lip and takes a slow cautious step closer to him and with a trembling hand, she slides it around the back of his neck and draws his head against her chest. He lets her and she feels the weight of his head against her breast. He remains still, the silence heavy as she slowly, gently, strokes his hair.

He stares at nothing in particular as he feels her gentle ministrations. So long. It's been such a long time since anyone touched him with care or anything close to regard. He feels hot tears well up and he does nothing to hold them back, his face crumpling as he feels them break through.

Her own heart pulses in her chest as she comforts him, hears the low almost desperate sob quickly subdued and viciously swallowed down. It lasts barely a moment before he goes stiff. His breathing changes once more and then he gives her a short almost savage nudge that makes her stumble back. He doesn't look at her as he slides off the stool and heads out of the kitchen. She watches him leave.

"Hey Alex?" Another voice intrudes and startles her and she turns her head and sees Gabe striding into her kitchen now, a wedge of paper underneath one arm. "Why is your newspaper in a heap on the floor beside the…" He stops and looks at her and his eyes slowly widen when he sees the expression on his sister's face.

"What's happened?" he demands.

Alex takes a slow deep breath, filling her lungs. She blinks and then focuses her attention on her brother and she makes herself smile.

"Nothing's happened, why do you ask?" she asks, turning and picking up her equipment and dropping it back into her back pack, zipping it shut with deliberate care.

"Because you look like someone just died, that's why," Gabe answers. He comes closer and drops the newspaper onto the bench beside her. "In fact the last time you did look at me like that was after you came back from the vet after having Charlie put to sleep, so what's happened? Did Bucky leave? I heard what happened earlier with Callum…"

"No, Bucky's still here and I promise you, I'm fine, really I am," she reassures him.

"Okay," he tells her but he doesn't believe her.