Unravel

If Elizabeth thought that James looked tired and worn out then, he looked even worse only a few days later. The times that she did see him, anyway. He had taken to avoiding any and all contact it seemed. Sometimes she saw his shadow just out of the corner of her eye. Other times she saw Vito wagging his tail at seemingly thin air.

Whatever it was, the whole atmosphere inside of her apartment felt tense. Elizabeth wondered whether she was the only one who felt it. Vito kept wagging his tail.

She didn’t know what was usual and unusual for him, not knowing him well enough. But during these few days there was a period of time where she hadn’t even seen him for 27 hours which was very unusual.

He hadn’t approached her to talk about anything again, either. Maybe he’d had enough. Maybe he had remembered on his own. Maybe he didn’t trust her enough to tell him about his past. Maybe it was just too much.

The unusualness reached its peak when suddenly, on day 6 after Elizabeth had told him her grandfather’s stories, she was woken up by something wet and cold touching her face.

Groaning and lightly swatting at whatever kept nudging her, she tried to go back to sleep. But besides the very wet nose of her even more persistent dog she was also suddenly startled awake by a loud crash inside of her flat.

Fearing the worst, she was awake immediately and trying to find her gun. Until she remembered that she had had to leave it at the office. Out of options, she went for the only thing in her bedroom worth crashing onto someone’s head: her bedside lamp.

Creeping out of her room cautiously, Vito trotting into the hallway in front of her, her stomach sank as she realized where the crash had come from.

Gripping the lamp even tighter, she inched closer to the guest bedroom’s door.
She didn’t know what to expect which made her heart pound even faster and harder.
There was a whole range of possibilities.
Someone could have broken in and James was taking care of it. Hydra could have found him. She didn’t put it past them but they were probably smart enough to send more men if they wanted to retrieve him.

But when she opened the door and turned on the lights, she could see possibility number three; the one she didn’t really want to think about.

There one the bed was a wildly thrashing James, sweaty and fully clothed, the look of distress clear on his face, the sheets pooled on the floor.

She didn’t know whether to wake him up. She doubted that he would easily injure himself but the way it looked, the crash that had woken her up had been her bedside table - which was now a heap of splinters.

This was the first time she noticed him having a nightmare like this. Was this the first time he had actually fell asleep during the time he stayed at her apartment? It certainly would explain the exhaustion on his face that had been gradually getting more clear to see.

There was also the possibility of him injuring her but she decided she could deal with that. Elizabeth put the lamp on the floor and slowly scrambled onto the left side of the bed. Then she tried to nudge him as softly and as firmly as she could at the same time.

His ragged breath was suddenly replaced by him snapping for air, his eyes - which had been forcefully pinched shut - shot open wide and his right arm shot forward, grabbing her firmly by her neck while his metal arm pushed her body into the mattress.

“Shit,” Elizabeth wheezed out and tried to pry at the fingers that were curled around her neck but to no avail. The unfocused and glassy look in his eyes didn’t subside, as did his look of pure anger.
Struggling to breath, she wheezed out his name between pleas, again and again. “James! I’m try- trying to help! James! Please, let go!”

For whatever reason he had used his right arm and Elizabeth was glad about that. There were already black dots forming in her field of vision but she was certain that she would have been dead already had he used his metal arm. But even feeling glad about any kind of aspect of this situation wouldn’t help her peel his fingers off of her neck. It seemed he squeezed tighter by the second. There was one last thing that she could think of that might help wake him up from whatever nightmare he was going through.

“Bucky!”

He squeezed her neck tighter for only a few seconds, gritting his teeth in the process when, as suddenly as all of it had happened, guilt found its place in his eyes and he scooted away from Elizabeth abruptly, just so that he was still kneeling on the edge of the bed, his hands braced beside him on the mattress.

Elizabeth coughed and gagged a few times and rubbed at her neck until she was somewhat able to breathe again. She would live, she knew. But there was nothing she hated more than being choked or even attacked. Even if it was unintended, which she dearly hoped it had been.

Looking up she saw the horrified look on James’ face and she couldn’t think of anything else than the question that had swarmed her head since before he had reached for her neck.

“Are you okay?” She knew it was a stupid question, really, but she felt she had to ask anyway.
James let out a ragged breath and pulled his hand through his long hair. “Sorry for startling you.”

At that James let out a wry laugh and shook his head. “You’re sorry. I choked you and you’re sorry.”

“Well, you didn’t use your metal arm, so I’m counting that as a plus.” He didn’t reply to that, only shot Elizabeth a look of annoyance and disbelief. She figured it had been a stupid thing to say but she didn’t think that he should feel guilty for it. Not completely, anyway.

He had sat himself on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands, and it didn’t seem as if he would start a conversation anytime soon again. So, as it had been the case since the beginning, Elizabeth started. He was probably annoyed by her constant need to talk by now.

“Nightmare or memory?” she cautiously asked but one look at his face gave her the answer. Elizabeth sighed and tried to think of something to say. She had never been good at comforting people. As the little sister she was usually the one being comforted. This was uncharted territory, so she did what she did best: talk. “Look, I want to help you, I do. But I’m not sure whether I’m the right person for it. I’ll help you when I can but I feel like only me is not enough for this whole... situation. And I know I’m probably overstepping any and all boundaries but I have to ask. What is keeping you from contacting Captain Rogers?”

Even the sparse lighting in her guest bedroom couldn’t conceal the way his whole body tensed. The twitching of his jaw had only been the most visible indicator “He was my mission,” he ground out.

“Are you afraid you’ll end up killing him?”

“I-,” he started but interrupted himself by heaving sigh. “He’s the only link to my old life that’s left.”

“So you’re afraid of being alone?” she asked without thinking. Elizabeth closed her eyes and scolded herself internally. “Sorry. But listen. I know I’m basically a stranger to you. But… I get it. I least- I think I do. And it’s just my two cents but you’re the only link left to his old life, too. Contact him. Even if it’s just to let him know where you are. And if you… I just want you to know that if you need something, I’ll help you.”

“Even though I’m a murder,” he stated, followed by a wry laugh.

“Yeah, well... Maybe? But as far as I can tell that wasn’t actually you. If it were, I probably would be dead by now. So for now I’m trusting you not to kill me and not to kill him,” Elizabeth stated and tried to gauge his reaction. He had opened his mouth but closed it just as quickly with a shake of his head. She had thrown a lot at him after having a probably very realistic nightmare.
Deciding to leave him in peace with all of her half-asleep talk, Elizabeth stood up from the bed and walked towards the door, before turning around again.
She had thought about offering him sleeping pills. But she was sure that he was suffering from PTSD. How couldn’t he? And keeping him asleep while he lived through his worst memories again and again sounded more like torture. She didn’t even know whether sleeping pills would affect him, considering his super-human metabolism and everything.

“He’s in New York.” She was suddenly shaken out of her thoughts. So he had thought about contacting him, too.

“I won’t tell you what to do but-” Trying to smother a yawn, Elizabeth turned around and trudged towards the door again to go back to bed. “You should probably contact him.”