Monster

The next morning, I woke to sunlight filtering through the thick trees in the yard. It was a breezy morning, and the trees waved quietly, leaving dancing shadows on the walls. Bucky's metal arm was wrapped around me, heavy on my body, but I didn't want to wake him up. It was the most content I'd felt in a long time, and I didn't want to ruin a rare moment of peace in two otherwise chaotic lives.

I moved anyway. Not to get out of bed, just to roll over and face him. He reacted instantly. His arm shifted so that it wasn't so heavy on me, and I could move more freely. I rolled onto my side and looked up at the sleepy man on my pillow.

He looked happy. For the first time since I'd met him, he appeared entirely and utterly content. There was a light in his blue eyes. They were sleepy but relaxed. The corners of his lips were already hinting at the almost smile, but it wasn't strained. Like he was preparing himself for a smile he already expected. It looked like he might have actually gotten a good night's sleep. I would have thought so if I didn't know any better.

I leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. His metal fingers gripped my shoulder gently in response.

"Does it feel more real to you now?" I asked, mostly because I wanted confirmation that I wasn't the only one who felt it. The smile appeared as easily as expected.

"It was always real for me," he said. His hand came out from under my pillow, and he touched his knuckles to my chest to feel my heart beating.

"Who would have guessed you were such a cheeseball." His smile was crooked. He apparently thought I was amusing.

"Always worked when I was younger." I laughed.

"I kind of like it. But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

I leaned into him and rested my head against his chest. I wrapped an arm around him, and we lay there for a moment. His heart was beating in a relaxed pattern, and I thought of all the things he'd told me in the dark the night before. Some good things. And some not so good.

But the moments between conversations. Those were good. When the only sounds had been our own quick breaths and the creak of the bed frame. It had been a long time since I'd woken up to warm arms and the sound of another heart beating alongside my own. It was a reminder that this was real. He was a human with a heart and a mind of his own. And no matter what happened, even if there was no future beyond what we'd shared in the night, as long as that heart continued to beat, I would want him to be safe.

I didn't think it was love, and it was pointless to hope for something so permanent in something so fleeting. But I almost wanted it to be. Love was messy and complicated, and our lives were already complex enough as it was. But it was much easier to keep moving forward when you had it. Even if it wasn't romantic. I could love him that way. Even if I could never have him.

"Are you hungry?" I mumbled, face squished against his chest.

"No," he replied. His voice rumbled low and deep in my ear.

"Are you just saying that because you don't want to get out of bed?" His cold fingers touched my bare back.

"Maybe," he admitted. I looked back up and smiled at his lazy expression.

"We can make breakfast."

"Or we could just stay here."

"I would like that, but I'm starving. And I could drink like—an entire gallon of water."

"Fine. But only if we make waffles again. I think they're my favorite."

"I think you just have a sweet tooth. But we can make them if you want."

"I do. And I think you're right. I also feel like I should come up with another cheesy line, but nothing is coming to mind. So I'll have to work on that."

"I'll take a rain check."

I slid out from under his arm and then got out of bed to find something to wear. I settled on a plain t-shirt and some jeans for now. Bucky put on the clothes he'd been wearing the night before. My phone began to buzz as he pulled his hair up out of his face. I reached for it, and my heart leaped in my chest.

It was Stark, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with his snarkiness so early in the morning. I forgot he had Jarvis keeping track of my heart rate and body temperature. That meant he was probably aware that we were both awake and also aware that our heart rates and body temps had been off the charts during the night. Twice.

I pressed accept and brought the phone to my ear. Then motioned for Bucky to follow me into the hallway.

"I don't want to hear it," I told Tony. "I completely forgot."

"There's someone in your house," he said. He wasn't using his playful tone. This was serious Tony. The guy who flew around in a metal suit and put himself at risk for others. Not the one who threw parties and imitated Marilyn Monroe when he answered phone calls.

We'd stepped out into the hall, so I put my hand on Bucky's chest to stop him.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You've got company. Steve is on his way."

"You don't mean Bucky?"

"Unless you've got a third wheel I don't know about, I'd get the hell out of there."

"Stay on the line."

"I am." I pulled the phone away and looked up at Bucky's concerned expression.

"There's someone else here," I told him.

His body went rigid, and his expression hardened. The relaxed and content Bucky in my bed minutes before was gone, and for a moment, I didn't know if I'd be able to get him back. I didn't want him to cross that line again. But if someone was in the house, we'd have to face it eventually.

"I'll go first," he said, then he headed for the staircase. I hurried after him.

"Bucky, don't. Let's just get out of here." He turned back around to face me.

"There's no getting out now, Jo."

He slid out of my grasp and headed down the stairs. His shoulders were straight, and he walked like he was prepared for a fight. I could hear the distinctly digital sound of his arm powering up as he gripped his fingers into a fist. I followed after, still clutching the phone in my hand.

"Jo!" Tony was shouting from the speaker. "Johanna!" I didn't want to answer him until I knew what was happening. Bucky made it to the bottom of the stairs and surveyed the room. Then he turned toward the kitchen. I lingered at the bottom, watching him disappear into the hallway. "Johanna!" Then I heard the unmistakable click of a bullet entering a chamber. I froze. "Jo?" Tony was still shouting, but I couldn't answer now even if I wanted to.

"Put the phone down," a voice said from behind. I pinched my eyes shut, recognizing that voice. I just hoped I never had to hear it again. I lifted my hands and dropped the phone. It bounced against the bare wood floor, and the glass went clear. "Turn around." I turned to face him and pried my eyes open.

"Oscar," I said with a nod of greeting. The gun was now aimed at the center of my forehead. There was an inch of space between me and the weapon, but I could feel its phantom touch. I held my hands up in surrender. I wouldn't be fast enough to grab the gun.

He was dressed in all black, like Rumlow's secret team of a-holes. But I wasn't afraid of him, even with the weapon to my head. It was Bucky I was worried about. I didn't think he'd hurt me, but I knew he was nearby. I couldn't hear him moving through the house, but he only made noise when he wanted me to hear him.

"How's Hydra been working out for you?" I asked.

"You know what they say, Johanna. Cut off one head, and two more grow back," he replied with a casual smile. His face seemed more drawn out than I remembered. Maybe he finally got that promotion, and it was a bit harder on him than he expected. I really hoped he felt guilty.

I took a step back, hoping to put more distance between me and the gun. Maybe I'd have a chance to grab it then. But my body hit a solid figure, and I paused. I didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but I knew exactly who it was. My raised elbow brushed against something smooth and cold like metal. I'd spent the night getting familiar with that body.

Oscar had undoubtedly known he was there, but he'd never made any sudden movements. His eyes didn't move when Bucky appeared. He gave nothing away to me. I could feel Bucky's heart beating against my back. He was waiting for something. Either instruction from Oscar. Or me. I might not be fast enough to get the gun before it could go off, but Bucky was. And I had to hope he was still on my side. So I stretched my fingers out and motioned forward.

His arm shot outward and yanked the gun out of Oscar's hand before he had enough time to pull the trigger. The weapon was sent across the room and skidded to a halt beside the couch. Bucky shoved me against the stairs and his body twisted as he threw his fist into Oscar's face. Blood spurted from his mouth, and he crashed into the entertainment center, sending a shower of books and DVD cases onto the floor.

The front door burst open with a bang, and a whole group of Hydra agents swarmed into the room. They were all clad in black and had their guns raised at Bucky. I stayed on the stairs. I was unarmed, and all I could do was provide a distraction if he needed it. I'd have to wait for my moment.

"Drop him, Solider!" one of the agents shouted.

In the commotion, Bucky had wrapped his hand around Oscar's throat and lifted him off the floor. He responded to the order and released his grip, but instead of waiting for another order, he swung around and sent his fist into another face. A moment later, his elbow met with a nose, and another man was flipped over his shoulders. He landed with a crash on the coffee table, sending broken and splintered wood across the room. I scooted down the stairs and reached for one of the jagged shards of wood to use as a weapon. But before I could get it, another gun was between my eyes.

It took a second to react. I didn't know if it was instinct or the thrill of the fight, but I kicked out my leg and struck him in the stomach. He flew backward and landed on the wall in the hallway but quickly regained his balance and rushed at me. We met as I jumped off the bottom step. Our bodies collided, and the two of us slammed onto the hard floor.

"Jo!" Bucky shouted.

He had the pink knife in his hand. I'd left it on the end table the night before. He tossed it toward me, and it slid across the floor. I scrambled to get free of the agent and wrapped my fingers around the glittery handle. The blade swished open with the click of a button, and I swung back around. I didn't want to kill anyone, but I didn't want them to get away unscathed either.

I got him across the forehead. He yelped and jumped back to get out of my reach, landing himself in Bucky's path of destruction. Bucky launched him across the room with a single swipe. He crashed into the chair and knocked over a lamp. That left the two of us standing in a sea of bodies in the middle of the living room.

Bucky clearly wasn't satisfied with that. He stepped over a motionless agent and went right to where Oscar struggled to get to his feet by the stairs. He gripped him by the throat and pinned him to the wall with his metal hand. Oscar was bleeding badly, but Bucky wouldn't let him die easily. He squeezed his fingers, cutting off Oscar's breathing. He sneered as he waited for the man to turn blue. He might have already been dead if Bucky's arm was working correctly. Despite not working at full capacity, it was still capable of a lot of damage. It was all he was armed with, and there still wasn't a single person left standing.

Oscar began to struggle. He kicked his legs and yanked helplessly at the metal around his throat. He choked and sputtered, and all I could do was keep my eyes on Bucky's face. He didn't look like Bucky anymore. This was the Winter Soldier, and he was even more terrifying than the few glimpses I thought I'd seen before. I walked over to them and dropped to the floor on the other side of Oscar. I put my hand on Bucky's arm so that he could feel my skin, and maybe I could bring him back.

"Bucky, listen to me," I said softly, even though my heart was pounding and I could barely breathe. My lip was bleeding and swelling, and it hurt to talk. "Bucky, let him go. I know you want to kill him, but you're not a killer. That's not you. Please let him go?"

He barred his gritted teeth like a wild animal. His eyes were pinched and dark, and for the first time since that night in the kitchen, I was genuinely afraid of him. He showed me that he knew the difference between them and me, but I didn't want him to kill again. He deserved to be free of that guilt, and this death would be a choice. He wanted Oscar to die, and he was enjoying it.

"Let him go," I whispered. "Please?"

Finally, he released his fingers, and Oscar stopped struggling. He was unconscious and slumped against the wall. I checked him just to be sure he was breathing, and then Bucky leaned forward, leveling his eyes with mine. They were still dark and violent, but he looked at me like he was trying to show me who he truly was. After the night we'd shared, it was a startling contrast.

"I want him to die," he whispered coldly. "I want to do it. And that's why there's no future with me. I want to kill all of them." I nodded slowly and put my hand on his shoulder.

"I know, but…," I started.

"I have to go."

"I know that too."

"I have to get out while I still can. More of them will come. I won't be able to fight them all. They'll take me."

"I'll stay here and wait for Steve. Get out of here and come back when it's safe again. Promise me that you'll come back." He reached out and pressed his palm flat against my heart. Then he pulled away and stood up.

"I don't know if I can come back," he said, turning toward the back door. But he paused before he reached it. He looked back at me, and I could see the regret in his eyes. I hated that I wasn't enough to protect him. "I'll find you, though," he told me. "I promise." Then he slipped out of the door.