I concentrate on dabbing away the dried blood, and he inhales a breath, his muscles tensing up.

"About yesterday…"

I glance at him. His head is turned to the side, his gaze averted from my face.

"I just went for a walk to clear my head." He finishes, his Adam's apple moving as he swallows.

"You don't need to explain. We all need space sometimes. I was just worried about your wound." I frown, "What do you normally do when you get injured and there's no one to help?"

"I was trained in basic first aid, in case I wasn't able to get treatment immediately." He replies, wincing slightly as I apply the rubbing alcohol, "but it never came to that. they did everything for me."

Evidently, Hydra's been taking good care of their subject—or as they call him, their asset—all these years. It sickens me to think that they treated him merely like a valuable weapon rather than a human being. There were many times when Rumlow talked about him like that: always like a dangerous animal, even though he was completely aware of The Winter Soldier's true identity: A missing soldier. A good man. A friend of Steve Rogers—someone Rumlow fought beside and (I assume) respected.

I don't think I'll ever understand how he rationalized the things he did and said.

I sure as hell didn't want to be thinking about him again. Up until now I've been able to ignore the memories, but the longer I'm around Bucky, the more they slip past my guard when I least expect them.

Well, that's the cost of spending time with someone who has shared experiences.

I wash my hands in the kitchen sink and run the suture needle under hot water before disinfecting it with rubbing alcohol. Then I return to my seat beside him at the breakfast bar.

"Yesterday when you said freedom feels the same, what did you mean?"

"Those people at Hydra…They worried about me too." He averts his gaze to his hands, "But it was different. They worried because they owned me. You worry because you care… About me. I didn't understand the difference yesterday. I was wrong."

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to remain focused on my task.

"You fell asleep on the couch waiting for me... But you never asked me where I went. You weren't angry." He frowns, shifting his weight on the barstool.

I feel my fingers trembling as I struggle to tie off the last stitch.

"You always ask me for permission, and no one's done that before. I don't remember much about my past but..." He trails off, pausing, "In all the years I remember, no one has ever been this kind to me. Even after I killed your friend. You have every reason to hate me."

I don't know why it happens, all I know is that I can't stop the tears once they come. I trim the suture thread and place the needle on the table, but by then my eyes are bleary and I can't hide my tears anymore. I bite my trembling lip and turn away from him as I feel the tide of grief ripple through me.

I haven't cried in a year. Not since that visit to the hospital.

After that day, I thought I was all cried out when it came to Shield, Hydra, and all the lives left in ruins because of their stupid agendas. Yet, somehow I still have tears left for this assassin with no recollection of his own life, and nothing to give me except his protection and a heartfelt thank you for showing him kindness.

Embarrassed at my pathetic breakdown, I try to fight back my tears. It doesn't help, and they surge forward, racing down my cheeks despite my efforts to compose myself.

He stands, turning me around gently, pulling me into his embrace, his left arm around my back, his right hand cupping the back of my head.

I dread that he might apologize again, but he doesn't. He seems to understand that I'm not crying because he killed Michael; I'm crying because everything about our being here in this kitchen is tragic.

So I cry silently against his right shoulder, remembering the last time a man offered me this courtesy.

It was Rumlow comforting me after Michael was killed. It was Rumlow who tried to paint Bucky as the dangerous one, even though the entire thing had been orchestrated by Pierce & Co.

I was duped by a man I thought I might grow to love. A man with such infectious charm that I rejected my gut instincts in order to see the good in him, even when it became clear that he wasn't as good as he pretended to be. I should have seen through it all, I should have done more to stop it. But deep down, I know there's probably no chance I could have made a difference at all, and that realization hurts me the most.

He doesn't release me until I've made the first move to break away.

That's precisely when Sena announces her arrival, poking her head around the open backyard door.

"Elise, do you have a gardening trowel I could…" the end of her sentence fades as she takes in the scene.

I don't blame her for the extended length of time it takes her to formulate a response. There's a lot about this situation that's messed up.

There's Bucky in his shirtless, wounded state, his shoulder still wet from my tears, his hand still resting above the small of my back. There's me, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand in an effort not to get blood on my face.

"I owe you an explanation, so you might as well come in." I let out a shaky sigh as Sena picks her jaw up from the floor and steps into the house, closing the door behind her.

Bucky returns to his seat on the stool as I move to the sink to wash my hands and begin cleaning up.

Sena hovers silently beside me at the counter, her gaze alternating between the two of us.

Well, when you see a wounded man with a crying person, what do you assume about that man's character? Not good things. At least he looks less frightening than the night he arrived.

I glance back at Bucky and find him evaluating her openly.

"I know it looks bad. And yes, I was crying. But he didn't hurt me, I promise." I lay a hand on Sena's arm. "We were talking about Shield and I got overwhelmed when the memories came back. I broke down."

She eyes me critically, and I know she's trying to figure out if his presence is intimidating me.

"Okay, but why is he bleeding? What happened?" She glances at him.

I briefly consider lying to her about the injury, telling her he got attacked by a dog or something. But she deserves to know why she's harbouring a stranger under her roof.

Still, I look to Bucky for reassurance. He meets my gaze, looks at Sena, and then again at me.

"If you trust her, you can tell her." He says softly.

I feel my breath catch in my throat. It means a lot that he entrusts his secrets to me. It means he has faith in the people I trust, even if I gave up on trusting people long ago.

I look at Sena again.

"It's a stab wound. James is—was an assassin for Shield before the collapse. He got into a scrap recently and that's why he sought me out to help him with his injury. He accidentally opened his wound today when he got hit by an idiot cyclist, so I'm patching it up again."

I note the look Bucky sends me when I mention Shield's name instead of Hydra's. I don't intend to embarrass him by divulging the entire story. And I don't want Sena to assume he's a bad guy based on what she heard about Hydra in the news after the incident last year.

I glance at her. Her face is pale, and she looks visibly shaken.

"There's one more thing, Sena." I turn off the tap, returning the first aid tools to their box. "I'll be moving in the next few days. I'm sorry its last minute, and I'll be sure to pay you next month's rent to make up for it. I just can't risk the possibility that Shield or Hydra's people might be after me. I don't want you caught in something because of me."

I look up at her. She has the back of one hand to her mouth.

"I don't need the rent, Elise. But are you sure you want to do this?" She asks, her voice a soft whisper.

I didn't consult Bucky on the decision to move because whether he comes with me or not, I'm moving. I've been so worried about him and myself that I'd forgotten about Sena and her safety.

"Will you be safe? Can't the police protect you?"

"I can't go to the police." I frown, "The kind of people in this industry… they're skilled. The police aren't enough, even if they thought I was worth the time and effort."

Sena looks at Bucky's metal arm and the red star emblazoned on the shoulder. Where before she'd simply seen a shabby-looking stranger, she now sees a trained assassin.

"This is a lot to digest. I... I'm going to go lie down for a while, if you don't mind." She's already making her way out of the kitchen and heading to the door that joins our apartments.

I let her go, even though the new silence makes things doubly awkward.

"I'm sorry, I kind of made that decision at the last minute." I sigh, gazing up at the overhanging lights.

"You always think of other people." He picks up a clean paper towel and soaks it in rubbing alcohol, wiping down his scar with a stifled wince.

"I didn't think about your well-being when I cried all those tears into your cuts." I joke, turning on the tap again. God, I must look like an utter mess right now.

"Literal salt in my wounds." He tosses the paper towel into the trash, and I see the hint of a smile on his lips.

It's already rare for him to talk this much in one day, but telling a joke? He's trying awfully hard to cheer me up.

"Given your skill set, I'm surprised you found the time to learn how to comfort a crying person." I run my hands under the water and rub them over my face.

There's a long silence, and I wonder if I've breached an uncomfortable topic for him. I'm about to apologize when he finally speaks.

"Russia, in the 1980s." His gaze is fixed on the counter-top, "There was a little girl… Her father jumped in front of my target. She was the only one left alive and She... she grabbed my hand when I tried to leave. I don't know why. She didn't seem to resent me."

"You remember that?" I ask softly, leaning against the kitchen counter.

He nods.

"I'm starting to remember some things." He runs his fingers through his hair, then pauses. "When you started crying, I saw her face."

I watch him silently for a minute, and his blue eyes meet my gaze.

"Elise, about your professor's suggestion…" He pauses again, his lips twisting into a frown as he thinks about how to word his thoughts.

"I want to protect you." His tone is resolute. It's not a question, not even a request. I think it may be the first time he's ever mentioned he wanted anything.

It's a good sign. He's breaking out of the obedient servant mentality Hydra pushed on him.

"Only if you promise not to get yourself killed. I don't want to lose a friend." I smile, "And Dr. Nikolav would be incredibly upset. I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you around."

He holds my gaze for a second, then glances away.

"You should go check on your friend." He stands from his seat, and I notice the faded scars on his back as he leaves the kitchen.

I hope he knows I meant it when I said I don't want him getting killed for my sake.

I find Sena sitting at her easel, her attention focused on the painting in front of her. It's a watercolour view of a lush green mountainside, dotted with tiny forms that look vaguely like sheep.

"You could have told me, Elise. About what happened at Shield." She doesn't look at me, and her voice is calm.

I cross the room and sit on the window bench, taking in the sight of her face. She looks normal. I don't see any sign of the shock she'd shown earlier.

"It's a lot of trauma, and it all happened so fast… I saw people die, right in front of me. I was part of something that… I don't think I'll ever be able to get away from." I answer quietly, "I was recruited by Hydra and I didn't even know it. I was dating a high-level Hydra agent, and I didn't even know it. How could I have been so stupid, Sena?"

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault. Everyone was fooled, weren't they? Hydra wouldn't have survived for so long if they weren't good at hiding who they were." She puts down her palette, getting up to join me on the bench.

"I was so scared they might come after me." I whisper, "And at first when you said I had a visitor, I thought it might have been my… my ex. But it wasn't him, and I was so relieved to see James that I didn't consider your feelings or safety. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. He clearly means a lot to you, Elise." She places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"They tortured him, Sena. I knew, and I couldn't do anything. They told me he was dangerous to keep me away so I wouldn't find out anything about him. I removed his tracking chip… didn't see him for a year after the collapse of Shield. He said he's been getting rid of the Hydra people tracking me." I pause, letting out a shaky breath.

She gives me time to compose my words.

"He said I'm the only one who's shown him any kindness in years." I hear my voice tremble, and I stop speaking. I know I'll end up crying again if I go on.

"I could see it in the way he looks at you." She smiles, "You mean a lot to him, too."

"He thinks he owes me." I shake my head, "But I don't want him to feel indebted. He insists he's going to protect me."

"Well, I don't know anything about evaluating an assassin's skills, but judging by his ab muscles and that arm, I think you'll be in good hands." She teases, "Though he might scare potential boyfriends away."

"No need to worry about that. I don't see myself dating anyone for a long time." I force a smile, but the pain still tugs at my heart.

"That's ridiculous. It's been an entire year, Elise." Her voice leaks disapproval, "You have to get over the Hydra jerk and move on. That's the only way to recover."

When I don't reply, she leans in close.

"At least consider your new guardian as an option." She giggles.

I shoot her a surprised glance, just to make sure she actually uttered those words to me.

"There's a stranger under your roof—whom yesterday you declared to be 'unstable' looking—and now you're encouraging me to date him?" I raise a vexed eyebrow at her.

"Look, I shouldn't have judged him so harshly. He looks much better now. And maybe you don't notice, but he clearly sees more in you than just a debt to be repaid. At the very least, he cares about you as a friend. You might as well consider it." She shrugs, a hopeful smile on her face.

Consider it? I got into the last mess by falling too deeply for someone because of physical attraction.

"He's not… emotionally secure, Sena." I look down at my hands, "and I'm not sure I am either."

"Well there you go. You can fix each other." She slaps me on the back.

Fix, she says, as if it were a broken vase you could glue back together. Some things aren't so easy to repair.