"And we will step outside
Checking that the coast is clear on both sides
'Cause we don't wanna be seen"

"Run" - Daughter

               Two years is a long time to break down walls and open up to a single person; Bucky had done that with Ophelia, and yet he still kept so much of his past a secret. Not only the violent past, but the past before Ophelia knew him as well; he was a different person than he was back then, and she could tell that when he talked about it, it was not easy. Bucky wrote everything down in his journals, but he did not always tell her what he penned into those books. 

               Though she knew where he kept his journals- even though he didn't think she did- she would never have read through them without his permission. Sometimes he spoke his thoughts before writing them, and Ophelia would catch bits here and there. Some of it she even remembered, though most of her memories between the 1960's and 2012 were fuzzy and distant, there were very few memories to begin with as she had not been out of her cryogenic chamber as much as he had. But she wasn't like Bucky, she didn't want to remember all of it, and so she had stopped digging too far once she had discovered her identity and his. This was their chance to start off as new people, but Bucky would never let go of the past.

             It was only when Bucky was out of the apartment that cloudy spring day that Ophelia brought in the papers to read. Obviously she couldn't stop him from reading them, and sometimes left ones that she thought he would want to read out on the table. However, as much as she knew that he clearly wanted to read anything on Steve Rogers, some days it just wasn't in him to read about what great deed his distant best friend had done to make the world a better place. 

           Ophelia arrived home after her first driving lesson, and had the place to herself. The stairwell didn't tire her, despite having to go up several floors and always taking two at a time. With two bags of groceries, she was struggling with the door when she noticed the discarded newspaper on the floor; it looked as though someone had scoured through it and taken the comics out, leaving the rest behind. 

            She didn't need the comics; she never understood them anyways.

             Crouching down, she grabbed hold of it and scanned the picture on the front. It was of Steve Rogers, a man who could make headlines around the world, apparently. But they were not always such great headlines, unfortunately. Sighing, she managed to get the key in the door and twisted it. When it finally opened, she stepped in and closed the door, locking it again behind her as Bucky had always told her to do. It was supposed to make her feel safe, but she still felt locked in and being on such a high floor level there was little escape. So far, she had never needed to escape, but it was always in the back of her mind. Eighty-something years of being controlled and held a prisoner could not be erased by two good years. 

           Before reading more of the paper, she walked over to the balcony window and shoved it open. She sat on the sill, one leg outside to remind her that she was free. The grocery bags had been tossed on the floor when she entered, because it was the paper that she was more interested in. It held more weight.

               Lagos, Nigeria. A lot of people were killed because of Wanda Maximoff, the blame was mostly upon her, but the reporter didn't hesitate to blame the rest of them involved as well. She studied the image of Wanda; she was beautiful, and yet the despair in her eyes was palpable. Ophelia knew that look, because she'd worn it too. Ophelia knew who was really to blame for the deaths that had occurred. The report stated that Brock Rumlow was leading a raid on the Infectious Disease Institute in Lagos with the intent to get his hands on a biological weapon.

           This rose other concerns, of course, but it was that name that sent chills down Ophelia's spine. Whether or not he was still HYDRA, and she suspected with his track record -and that he was seeking a biological weapon in the first place- that he was in fact still part of HYDRA. Ophelia knew that they were still out there, the Avengers had been seeking out all their hideouts over the last few years. Cut off one head, two more shall take its place. Her heart sunk knowing that Bucky was right; how could they ever face the real world and show the world who they were when HYDRA would take advantage of them the minute they were exposed. 

                 Despite the hour being late, Ophelia brewed herself a full pot of coffee. It wasn't every night she did this, many she would flop down on the mattress after a long shift at the diner and pass out until Bucky climbed into bed with her. But nights where she didn't work the day, like today, Ophelia never managed to get an hour of sleep until Bucky returned. At first, she would try and sleep, but simply shift uncomfortably until he came home. She had learned quickly just to bide her time and had found a love for books and current events while she waited for Bucky. 

          Her attachment to him was sometimes unhealthy, and so she distanced herself as much as she could so that he did not feel the need to constantly be there, but Bucky needed her too. It was worse in the beginning, after she had suffered through her withdrawal, she never wanted him to leave her side. As she got better, she began to go out on her own, take strolls down the block. Bucky had shown her that Bucharest could be their home. He made her feel safer than anyone in the world had even when he wasn't around. 

              Bucky was a man who needed someone to lean on, and Ophelia was happy to be that person. Some nights she stayed up until the crack of dawn listening to him talk, or would sit there with her arms wrapped around his torso, holding him close so that he knew she wouldn't leave him to fight this on his own. Those were nights that Ophelia adored, despite many of them ending in tears or pain for one or both of them. Getting everything out was healthy, but sometimes those nights drained everything out of her, and she would show up to work with black circles under her bloodshot eyes. Those nights were common at first, and dwindled to a few times a month. They had good nights too, nights where they were swept up in a passion only they could share together. Having a sweet thought burst into her mind brought a much needed smile to Ophelia's pink lips.

              She glanced out the window again and watched the city life; she had gotten used to it after all this time. It actually helped her feel comfortable now, knowing that despite being asleep or settled in for the night, there were always going to be people awake and happy, laughing and loving. There was never a truly dark hour, though she wasn't ignorant enough to believe that only good things happened in the world. People were killed daily, by HYDRA and by each other. The world was grim, but it had an elegant sort of beauty to it when she looked at it in the bigger picture. She liked Bucharest, it had been their home for almost two whole years now, but just like the motel back in Washington, she knew it wouldn't last forever.

             After scanning through the weather report in the paper, Ophelia tossed the paper down on the balcony outside. It landed a top a stack that had accumulated over the last few months. Anything on the Avengers, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, HYDRA files, SHIELD files, people who were different like her. She kept it all even though it sat outside on that balcony collected dust on the hot days, and growing mouldy and musty on the colder, rainier days. Some important clippings she took out, put them inside a journal Bucky had gotten her last November where they would remain in good condition. 

          There wasn't anything she could do to change the way the world was, the part she played in this vast world was certainly small, but she made up a big part in Bucky's life. And he certainly filled a very large void in hers. And yet there was still a void there, one that she knew would only be filled if she was surrounded by the other people she loved. She missed Steve, she missed Sam.

             She drank her coffee until her hands shook and her vision fought against the tiredness. Like a tornado, there was a battle between the desire to sleep, and the need to stay up until he got home. Like a sickness that needed a drug to keep the symptoms at bay, she needed him to drive the worry out of her mind. But they had a symbiotic relationship; they leaned on each other when they needed to. 

          The hour was late, and Ophelia's toes that were outside the window began to feel numb to the cold. She slid her leg up so that her foot was propped on the sill and then wrapped an arm around her leg to hold it there. With her other hand, she finished off her coffee and heard that familiar sound of the door unlocking. That sound would have once made her heart jump; it used to, whenever Bucky came home and he unlocked the door she expected it to be a HYDRA guard, ready to pull her from her simple life and throw her back into a world or torment and pain. But it was only ever Bucky she saw, until she had conditioned her brain not to be afraid of the sound.

            His dark frame entered the room, casting a shadow upon the wall that mimicked his movements. She watched with a smile on her face, trying not to make it appear as though she were waiting up for him. Obviously he knew, every night that she stayed up he knew it was because she didn't sleep well or at all without him there. The nightmares plagued them both, and if they were lucky they would strike on different nights so that they might be able to comfort each other. It had been wretched at first, impossible to console and give solace when they both suffered the nightmares. But now, they were not so bad.

           "O," he said when he closed and locked the door behind him.

           Before he could continue with some soft-sounding lecture about her needing sleep, she smiled and cut him off, "Couldn't sleep."

           "You never can." He sighed, hanging up his hat and jacket over a concrete block. He then turned towards her, pausing for a moment to look at her perched in the window, her knee up and her other leg dangling. She was too short to have her feet touch the floor, Bucky always found that rather cute. 

           "It'll go away," she told him, not positive of her own words, but trying to convince the both of them.

           "I have to admit, it is nice seeing you up when I get home," he admitted. "But the dark circles under your eyes doesn't suit you."

           "No?" She placed her nearly empty mug on the window sill, being careful not to bump it. "What does suit me?"

            He grinned and crossed over the small room towards her. When he reached her, he placed his hand upon her cheek and tilted her head so that he could look into her big green eyes. The room was dark aside from the light of the coffee maker clock and the single lamp that Ophelia had left on by the bed. 

             Shadows danced like their own personal ballet in the background, supposedly beautiful, but always reminding Ophelia of their haunting past. It would always live in the shadows of their minds, their past. But nights like this, Ophelia didn't like thinking about it. She liked to enjoy the fact Bucky was in a good state, and she was feeling alright herself. She turned on the sill, dropping both her legs inside of the room, but they didn't touch the ground as she was too short. Bucky was facing her, and he crouched down to hold his eyes level with hers.

           She moved in for a soft kiss, savouring how gentle and warm it was. Immediately all thoughts of their past vanished, all thoughts of anything besides him right there in front of her vanished. She savoured him like she had Rapture, making sure she had just the right amount of him to survive, never too much either. When Bucky pulled back from the kiss, his hand had moved behind her neck, sliding up her brown hair over her scalp. Ophelia lolled her head and breathed in through her nose, wanting to moan into the pleasure, but holding back. A shudder ran down her entire spine, leaving goosebumps over her flesh and turning her cheeks a slight red colour. 

          "I'm going to shower," he said, and instead of turning around towards the bathroom, he picked her up off of the window sill and she wrapped her legs around his hips. "And you're going to join me."