The art is not mine, I found it on Pinterest. I just thought it would suit Steve's style of art and it's an absolutely beautiful drawing :))

TW: Panic attack and acts that allude to selfh@rm.

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The kids played a couple more rounds as I prepared dinner. Bucky looked as if he wanted to help but every time he reached for the stove his hand twitched and he drew back. It hurt me knowing Bucky was constantly fighting Hydra in the confines of his mind, that it prevented him from performing everyday tasks.

Using the supplies from Bucky's apartment, I cooked up a huge pasta dish large enough to feed twelve. What can I say with two super Soldiers, a mutant and a spider child with an abnormal metabolism we need triple the food. Plus I want to make sure Belle is actually fed, no doubt they were half starved to death.

Much to my enjoyment Belle devoured her food before anyone else had the chance to touch theirs. Once finished she sat in silence staring at her hands, not daring to interject in any of our conversations.

Bucky leant over to whisper in her ear. I couldn't quite hear what was exchanged but Belle nodded and left the room.

"Back at the base you were punished for speaking out of turn. Especially at meals." Bucky stared mournfully, pushing around the pasta with his fork.

"That's awful." Peter mumbled to himself dropping his fork. Bucky flinched slightly, quickly covering it up by scratching the back of his neck.

"That's hydra."

"I'm just glad you don't have to go through that again." Peter stated resuming his meal, although I could tell his appetite had worn thin. I would be lying if I said mine hadn't as well. Just thinking about the crap they had to go through made me sick to my stomach.

"Me too kid." Bucky muttered. He excused himself from the table, mumbling something about talking to Belle. I could do nothing but watch him leave.

---

I tried to convince myself it wasn't real. My nightmares are becoming more and more realistic and I am scared that one day they won't just be dreams anymore.

I had woken up in a cold sweat choking on tears I didn't even know I had shed. I contemplated waking Bucky up, but I don't want him to get mad. It's three in the morning and I know he was absolutely exhausted. Instead I picked up his sweater, slipping it over my pyjamas, inhaling his scent.

This seems to be the only comfort I have left now. Nothing else is working. Back at the base I could switch off and barcade myself from the pain. I don't know why it's not working. I need to stop feeling but I can't.

My sobs become more violent, catching the oxygen before it can reach my lungs. My hands find their way into my hair and begin to pull.

'I control my pain. I chose what I can and can't feel.'

My grip tightens; Nails digging into my scalp. Any second they will draw blood but I can't stop.

You're being pathetic.

I know.

Bucky will be disappointed in you.

He is.

You deserve this.

I need air.

The windows have been locked, most likely a precaution Wade took when he first moved in. I stumbled to the door somehow managing to stay silent despite my struggle for breath.

I tripped into the hallway and aimed for the front door. I could feel my chest tightening, my mind numbing. Black dots swirled in my already distorted vision making me crash into the wall.

"Kid? Oh god Belle come sit down." A pair of hands rested on my shoulders and I flinched away.

Don't trust him.

"Don't touch me." My throat was so dry it hurt to speak. I pushed myself against the wall in order to escape the blurred figure.

"Belle it's Steve. I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe."

He's lying. Run Belle.

I make a break for the door but something grabs my wrist. I tried to bite back a scream, limiting myself to a tiny whimper.

"Deep breath Belle. Focus on the air filling your lungs, ignore everything else. Just breathe." The grip lessens and the urge to run floods my brain. Yet I find myself bolted to the floor.

What are you doing? Leave.

Deep breath. I'm safe.

No you're not.

I'm safe.

"Better?"

No!

"Yes. S-Sorry." My vision begins to clear and I get a bearing on my surroundings. A lamp flickered in the corner casting a dim light across the room. The more it flickered the faster my heart pounded against my chest.

"Do you want to sit down?" Shaking my head threw me off balance and I collapsed against the wall.

"Woah, steady. Here let me help." He gently wrapped his arm around my shoulders supporting me enough to shuffle over to the sofa. "If you want to talk, I will listen."

I'm not used to choices. I don't like this. "I'm fine."

"Belle." I know that tone; he sounds like Bucky when he is fed up with me. That has got to be some sort of record, less than 24 hours with someone and they are already sick of you.

"I'm fine."

Yes you are.

No I'm not. But Steve doesn't need to know that.

"Why are you up so late?" Steve raised his eyebrow at me obviously wanting to ask the same question in return. I think he thought better of it, knowing I would shut him down if he tried.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Nightmares?"

"You could say that." Steve trailed off, twiddling a pencil between his fingers. It's only then I noticed the array of sketches strewn across the table. Some are half finished, others nothing but a few stray lines and dots. But one was near enot complete, a portrait.

"That's really good. I used to draw as well."

That's it. Distract yourself.

"Really?" Steve sounded... impressed? His smile filled me with warmth and I nodded, ignoring the dizziness that washed over me.

"Yeah, Bucky would sneak me supplies. On the days he had training I would sit in our room and sketch. Although it wasn't like I had much to draw. Hydra didn't exactly let me out much."

"I understand." I could tell he was being careful. No doubt it's like treading on eggshells when talking to me. Why do I have to make everything so difficult?

"Do you need a drink? You look really pale." If I denied him he would just worry, so I muttered a yes and Steve scrambled off to the kitchen.

The portrait seemed to call to me and I picked it up to study it further. Smudged fingerprints lined the edges, Bucky used to say that was a sign of doing it right. The slight dents in the paper felt weird as I traced the pencil strokes. It took me a few moments to figure out who it was.

Without the shoulder length hair and stubble it almost looked like a completely different person. But his smile that lit up his face, that's something I could place anywhere.

"I have been working on that for a while." Steve whispered appearing with a glass of water in his hand.

Bucky is in an unfamiliar uniform, one that I haven't seen before. His cap is sent at an angle, casting a shadow over half his face. It suits him. Steve had drawn him so he was looking off the page, yet somehow his eyes met my own. I found comfort in that; he's here and he's not.

"It's beautiful. Are you going to show him?"

"Well his birthday is next week so I was thinking-" I almost choke on my water.

"Wait, it is?"

"Yeah. Didn't you know?" I shake my head slowly, suddenly feeling like an awful person.

"We didn't celebrate anything back there. He couldn't remember his birthday and I don't know mine so what was the point?"

"Oh." Steve gently took the drawing from my hands and laid it on the table. "We could find out, I'm sure Peter would be able to pull a few strings and figure it out. If you want that is."

"That would be..."

Awful. You have lasted almost eleven years without one, why now. He is pitying you.

"Nice." Shut up.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." Steve smiled down at me and my mood lifted. It's strange how quickly these people can lift my mood. But a good strange. I like it.

I relaxed into the couch letting out a tiny yawn. Before I knew it sun was streaming through the window and the boys were piled in the kitchen scoffing pancakes. I lifted my head catching Bucky's attention.

"Ah you're awake. I have a plate for you if you're hungry." Bucky set a plate piled high with pancakes on the table but I was too comfy to move. At some point Steve must have thrown a blanket over me as I was cocooned in the fluffiest blanket I have ever seen. Why would anyone want to get up when you are so comfy?

"Earth to Belle." Peter laughed.

"Don't wanna move." That and the very thought of food right now made me nauseous. Anxiety had knotted my stomach so tight that even sleep failed to untie them. But if I told Bucky that he would only worry, and I don't want that.

Oh give it a rest Belle.

Shut up.

"Do you want me to leave them on the table?" Choices. I hate choices.

"No thank you."

"You need to eat Belle."

"I'm fine." I buried back into the couch hoping that would end the conversation. He kept talking.

You want him to stop. Tell him.

"I'm not letting you go hungry again Belle." Bucky seated himself on the arm couch waiting for me to pick up the fork. I don't move.

Tell him to stop Belle.

"Buck if she doesn't want it-"

"It's not that simple Steve."

It's only two measly words.

Bucky pushed the plate closer and I fought the urge to kick it away. Why isn't he listening to me?

Say it.

His voice started to blur together, preventing me from making out a single word. The sound of Bucky's foot tapping against the sofa pierced my ears; his stare made me shift in my seat. The attention was suffocating, the situation insufferable.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

"Shut up." My hands fly to my ears as a piercing whistle silences the voice. I could hear Bucky's voice, but it was distorted and distant; as if I were being held under water.

I hastily kicked off the blanket hating how it suddenly clung to my skin. It was like a million needles leaving trails of goosebumps across my paper white skin. The bitter sting of the morning nipped at my bare feet sending a second wave of shivers through my body.

"Wade...overload...headphones in my..."

Something pulled my hands away from my head, replaced by a strange weight. Then everything stopped.

They might be able to silence the outside world. But they can't silence me. You can't get rid of me Belle.