Bucky had crossed the street and watched from one of the alleys as people started leaving the pub. Once he spotted the two men he held his breath, unsure if he was hoping they would walk away or if he wanted them to give him another reason to follow them.

They stayed put, granted they hid slightly but they didn't leave.

He watched as the lights went off in the pub, and waited some more, knowing that the employees of the pub usually got out through the back-door in the alley.

It only took a couple of minutes before he spotted Reagan walking out of the alley with her male co-worker. From the other side of the road he could hear her co-worker ask if she wanted a ride home. Half of him wanted her to accept it, the other half... He didn't even really know what the other half of him wanted. He neither frowned nor smiled when she declined his offer, saying she would rather walk home.

They shared a hug and the man told her to stay safe, making Bucky scoff silently. If he wanted her to stay safe he should either walk her home or force her into that car. It was almost 2:AM by now, and no lady should be walking by herself.

Not even 30 seconds after she had walked off to the right the two men started following her, barely able to walk straightly but still moving pretty quickly for being so inebriated. Bucky knew that if she had been well, Reagan would have been able to either walk or run away from them. But even from the distance and with the two men placed between them he could see that she was moving sluggishly, probably because of her fever.

Cursing quietly to himself he quickened his pace, soon walking so close to the men that he had no trouble hearing what they were planning. It made a slow burning start up in his body, his blood feeling as if it was starting to boil.

Waiting patiently, he walked calmly behind the men until Reagan finally turned a corner. Moving stealthily he rounded the two men and planted himself in front of the two, the shadows of the night helping the cap on his head obscuring most of his facial features.

They first tried walking around him, but he only sidestepped them.

    "What is your problem, man?"

    "I'll give you one chance and one chance only, turn around and walk home."

    "How do you know we are not on our way home?" One of the men leered at him, once more trying to get past him.

    "Take one more step in her direction and you will wake up on the pavement tomorrow." His voice was barely a whisper, but he could feel his voice trembling with rage.

    "Don't worry about her, we go way back."

    "One more step."

The man who had been mostly silent laughed and foolishly tried walking around him. Within three seconds he was knocked out cold on the pavement, but Bucky could see he was still breathing.

He didn't want to kill anymore.

    "What the-"

    "- I warned you," he interrupted the second man who was still standing. "Tomorrow you will wake up right here, and you will remember what happened. Try this again and you will wake in another place that you will not find so pleasant."

Bucky had the man down on the ground and unconscious in a matter of seconds, smiling as he realized how big of a black-eye the man would be waking up with tomorrow.

    "James?"

His gaze moved up so quickly that it almost made his head spin, his eyes locking onto Reagan who was standing at the corner, her fingers clutching a wooden stick.

    "Reagan," he replied, his voice shaking for a whole other reason than rage this time. "They... Th... These men were following you, I heard them talking when I left and I...I couldn't just..." he trailed off, wondering if he  was telling her too much.

    "Are they still alive?" She remained calm, surprising him slightly as she lowered the branch she had been holding tightly, her fingers relaxing around it.

    "Yes," Bucky replied quietly, "I don't do that anym-" he stopped himself, cursing underneath his breath. That was too much information. He couldn't tell her about his past. He wouldn't. "You shouldn't have lowered your weapon," he said quickly, hoping it would distract her. "What would you have done if I was dangerous and wanted to attack you myself?"

Reagan scrutinized him quietly for a couple of seconds, "are you planning on hurting me James?"

He shook his head from side to side, his eyes holding hers so that she would see his sincerity plainly.

    "Then I won't bother with the stick anymore, besides, I can barely stand - I wouldn't even have been able to lift a finger against you."

    "I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.

    "Good," she mumbled, "because I have a feeling I would have been a very easy target in a couple of seconds."

He frowned at her statement, but then moved hurriedly towards her as she suddenly keeled over. Just about managing to reach her before her head hit the pavement he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his chest. Her forehead came in contact with his neck and he realized how warm she was.

    "What the am I supposed to do now?" He murmured to himself. He tightened his hold on her, pulling her more into his arms as he stood, glancing from side to side before making his way around the corner.

He probably shouldn't have known where she lived without having asked her, but he was happy he did. Even how much of a stalker it made him sound like.

Calmly he walked the stairs leading up to her apartment, picking the spare key from the place he saw her put it on not even two weeks ago, when he had had the need to check up on her after not seeing her for a while. Gently pushing the door shut with his foot he walked through the semi-familiar apartment - he had only seen it through the windows.

Prying her bedroom-door open he watched as her cat hissed at him from the bed, but he paid no mind to it, only shooed the creature from the bed and then pulled back the duvet with his normal hand before gently putting Reagan down on the bed.

First, he removed her shoes - paying no mind to the hissing cat biting at his ankles.

Second came her jacket, and then he just watched her for a long moment, knowing he would have to remove more of her clothes but uncertain of how to go about it.

    "This would not have been a problem for me 70 years ago," he chanted quietly to himself, having had slight flashes of his past coming back to him just days earlier. "Jesus Christ... 70 years. Not a problem, not a problem, not a problem-"

    "Ja-James?"

    "Reagan," he replied - relieved that she was awake again. "How are you-"

    "What is not a problem?" She murmured, her eyes fluttering open for a moment before they shut once more.

    "I- eh..." he felt his face flushing, "you have a fever, I need to take your cl-" he coughed nervously. "I need to remove some of your clothes for your body to cool down."

    "It's alright," she mumbled, "thank you."

This eased his mind somewhat, but he found himself still trembling slightly as he started reaching for her shirt.

    "New clothes... in the... drawer," she uttered almost incoherently.

Nodding his head he walked over to said drawer, finding a long t-shirt that would cover her at least down to the middle of her thighs.

His fingers moved to unbutton her shirt, cursing to himself as the gloves came in the way. Glancing quickly up at her and noticing she was once more unconscious he pulled the gloves off quickly, his fingers using some time to get on with this menial task until he got the hang of it. Once he had managed to unbutton it all the way he gently picked up one of her arms, sliding it out of the arm of the shirt before repeating the task with the other arm.

She groaned quietly and he quickly hid his metal arm, fear striking through him at the thought of her realizing who he was.

Once she stopped moving again he bit his bottom lip between his teeth and gently pried the hem of her thin t-shirt between his fingers. Her shirt was soaked in sweat, and he wondered how she had managed to fight through her shift in this state.

Carefully he pried the thin shirt over her head, trying and failing to prevent his eyes from falling to her now exposed stomach and chest. Bucky frowned as he saw the undergarment she had on, gently turning her to her side his frown only deepened when there was no visible clasp he could open.

Well, he thought to himself; I'll deal with that when I have to.

Instead of working on the indecipherable bra he moved his hands down to her pants, parts of him wondering what had ever happened to the dresses and skirts that women used to wear, the other part of him appreciating how long they made her legs look. With fingers that almost trembled he unbuttoned them, and then gently tugged the pants down her legs.

His cheeks flamed as the tiny piece of fabric covering her female parts came into view. Did all females wear these sorts of tiny undergarments now? What had happened to the longer once he could remember from back in the good old 1940s?

Shaking his head to get his mind to function properly again (though he was pleased that though his mind had wandered off on its own, it was still his mind, not HYDRAs), he straightened out and then walked quickly to her washroom, finding a fresh cloth and wetting it with cold water from the sink he walked back again, only to find her tossing and turning in the bed - soft whimpers falling from her lips.

    "Shh," he found himself whispering as he sat down by her side, gently bringing the cloth up to her brow first, taking the time to softly wipe her face before moving on to quickly wash her upper body Once he was done he put the cloth away and then picked up the long, white t-shirt he had found earlier. Gently he wrapped his metal arm around her upper body, lifting her carefully upwards until he had her in a half upright position. Using his other hand he pulled the shirt over her head, once he had managed to get both arms and her head he laid her back down again. Grabbing a hold of its hems he pulled until it was covering her more properly, then he moved his hands upwards again, cheeks blooming as his fingers touched the underside of her bra.

He fumbled around for a long moment, trying in vain to to find a clasp on the backside. Grumbling to himself he pulled back his right arm pulling a knife from a hidden place on his thigh. Reaching back underneath her shirt he lifted the bra slightly from her skin before slicing it straight off, the t-shirt obscuring his view the entire time.

Finally, he was able to remove the offending item of clothing and he threw it straight across the room - quickly removing his hands from underneath her shirt in the process.

Pulling the blanket up her body he once again got up from the bed, walking to the washroom to find a new cloth, dousing it with water. He brought it back to the bed, gently placing it on her forehead to keep her cool and then sat in the chair across the small room, his eyes fastened on the sleeping girl.