Once Bucky managed to pull me out of my nightmare, free of the pain and terror that wasn't MINE, but was pressing down on me from EVERYWHERE - he pulled me into our bathroom and ran us a warm shower. I was shivering and covered in sweat - the feelings that weren't mine still tight against me.

"Come here," he hadn't really released me, but he held out his hand and carefully helped me over the lip of the tub. Turning me so the warmth of the spray was beating down across my shoulders and the back of my head, he tilted my face up so I was looking into his. "I'm right here, Brooke. You're right in front of me and I'm RIGHT HERE."

He looked like he was speaking to a cornered animal, frightened and ready to lash out or cringe away - I wondered what expression my face wore? I was still shaking, the tension of what I'd felt, similar yet so different from before - why was it worse - and the water wasn't helping.

"Sweetheart, tell me," blinking up at him, I couldn't seem to find the words. How do you explain what you felt but didn't really know? "Please?"

As he worked to hold me and warm my skin, or at least give me some comfort - rubbing soothing patterns as he washed away the layer of sweat that coated me from my nightmare - I tried to capture where I'd been and what I'd witnessed.

"It always starts out the same," I wasn't sure he could hear me over the shower, but he hummed so I went on. "Flashes of lights - red, blue, white - and usually it's just the feeling of darkness and terror." He looked up from where he was washing my legs, and I knew he wanted to know what had changed. "I can hear them now. Pain, torture." My voice grew thick as I considered how the screams and groans had echoed. "There are shadows, vague impressions of beings, but they're growing clearer -"

Bucky rose to his feet and used his bare hands to rinse the suds free from where he'd washed me. Taking his time to consider whatever questions were bubbling up, and I knew he must have some because I had my own. "And you don't know where you are?"

"No," I didn't want to know. I just wanted to never go back. "Why am I seeing this, Buck?"

He pulled me into his arms and held me tight, pressing his lips into my wet hair. "I don't know, doll, but we're gonna figure it out."

It took longer to relax me than normal and I hated that I was a basket case for longer, but I didn't hate the extra time we spent together - the trade off for being a mentally fragile was that Bucky spent more time trying to calm my silly ass down when the nightmares got too real. I didn't hate it, I just didn't want the ONLY reason for our spending extra time together in the mornings to be so he could help me relax from the tension created by night fear boogie men.

He made me a cup of tea. "Doctor's orders," he offered, sitting it down in front of me as he started breakfast.

"You're very domestic for a trained assassin, Bucky Barnes." He shook his head as he raised an eyebrow at my cup still sitting in front of me waiting for my attention. Sighing, I picked it up and took a sip. "Better?"

"You'll thank me when you can actually EAT and keep the breakfast I'm making, sweetheart," his lips worked to keep the smile at bay, but it was a lost cause. "It helps, doesn't it?"

Rolling my eyes, I didn't say anything, just took another sip - letting that be my answer. It did help, somehow. Not a clue why or how, whether science or mystical magic, but he was right - as long as I drank the tea I could keep food down. And our little one needed sustenance, so did I.

I watched him create another breakfast, smiling at how content and comfortable he looked while doing it. "You look like you were made for this room -" his smile grew and I went on. "Well for this house, actually."

"Pretty sure we were built around the same time," him and the geriatric jokes aside, he was right. Our house was thrown up around the same year that he was born and aside from a few renovations over the preceding years - my eyes drifted to his vibranium arm, and I had to hold back a chuckle - it was still holding up pretty damn well. Just like a certain someone standing in its kitchen putting together something palpable for me.

I was curious though, now that the nightmares were drifting away as I drank my tea - "You wouldn't want to find a new place, bigger or something?" I loved my family home, but we were about to start our lives together in a new way, maybe he wanted a truly fresh start.

He was shaking his head as he prepared our plates and carried them over to where I was sitting. "Not unless you do -" a glance at my face told him enough to go on. "This house is great, Brooke. Although," he took a breath as if he were preparing himself to deliver bad news and I felt a twist in my chest. "We might want to move our room to your parents'. It's bigger and -" My hand was on his before he could go on with whatever explanation he felt like he had to give me.

"I think my old room would be perfect for a nursery," I mentally added "again", since it had been mine once upon a time. "Moving into the larger room makes complete sense, especially now."

It was easier to go into their bedroom now - I'd even been considering going through their things to see what I truly wanted to keep and what could be donated. "Only if you're sure," he offered, a nod and he let out a breath more audible than any I'd ever heard him make before. "I love you."

"I kinda adore you, Bucky Barnes," putting down the cup that had held my special tea, I picked up my fork. "And it grows with every meal you put in front of me." That earned me a laugh. "Here's to keeping every bite down." I toasted him with my loaded fork before taking my first bite.