Hours later I'm in bed staring at the brightly lit screen of my computer. I'm into the second season of Friends already and it's nearly 4 am. Nat and Wanda took me home at 1:30 AM just after I got the text. I wanted to stay out still, but I just couldn't do it. My dad had successfully implanted his negativity and daunting threats into my head where I couldn't pluck him out. There's not a lot in this world that bothers me, but he certainly does.

I take another bite of soggy corn flakes. I like eating cereal at night, especially when I'm feeling emotional.

After a while I grow bored. Thankfully I'm tired enough to retire. Lazily I dress for bed in a pair of fuzzy sleeping trousers and a loose Disneyworld jumper. I brush my teeth, toss the cold cereal, and then crawl between the silken pink sheets. My head hits the pillow and for the last time tonight I pick up my phone. I'd texted Laurie back finally just so she didn't worry and assume the worst—eventually prompting in a call to 911, or worse, my mother. Bucky's still out on the town, I think. I just saw Sam's snapchat story where I could vaguely spot Bucky's growing beard in the background.

Sadie: Goodnight, hon. Be safe tonight. And keep an eye on Sam and Steve. See you in the morning xxx

I turn the phone over on my extra stack of pillows. It only takes another minute for it to buzz. Momentarily I'm terrified at the proposition of it being another text from my father. To say the very least, I'm utterly relieved to see that it's dear Bucky who's messaged me back so fast.

James: Sweet dreams. Hope you had a good night... I'll see you tomorrow, doll.

A sigh slips from my lips. I put the phone away then turn around onto my side. I feel pretty shitty about not telling Bucky that in fact my night was ruined and all I wanted on our cab ride back was to call him and beg him to meet me home.  Of course I don't tell him any of this. I don't think I would've told anyone if Wanda hadn't sensed my thoughts and Nat wasn't such a goddamn super spy. They pried a bit of information out of me in the cab, but I mainly kept quiet. I did apologize for ruining the night, though. They both told me not to worry and that it wasn't ruined at all—we did have quite a good time while it lasted. Besides, none of us wanted to be out too late anyway.

I fall asleep to the sound of NYC's streets from outside my cracked window. When I awake the next morning it's to my alarm I've got set so that I can be up in time to make breakfast for Tony when he's come out of his first meeting. I rise with a grunt. No one's texted me, thank god, and so I take to gathering up my things for a shower. I wash, dry, and dress in less than thirty minutes. I even have enough time to put on makeup before the one hour mark hits. Set up with an arm load of dirty laundry I venture out into the rest of my apartment.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I yelp—accidently flinging my dirty clothes all over the floor of my living room. Wide-eyed I gape up to the man who stands in my kitchen waiting for me. Bucky's let himself in.

"Buck—what are you doing here?"

"I'm here because Nat told me what happened last night. You didn't say anything, and I was worried." Those beautiful azure eyes of his narrow a bit. His weight is leaning against the side of my counter—his big palms splayed on the granite. He looks like a marble statue dressed in a white t-shirt.

"Did Friday let you in?"

"No, I guessed your code." Bucky seems to want to roll his eyes, but he keeps his composure. "You wouldn't answer your phone and I wanted to talk to you before you went downstairs. I figured you wouldn't mind."

I shake my head. "I—I don't. I guess I'm just confused how you figured it out...?"

"It was easy, Sadie. It only took a couple of tries. You're a history buff. You spent an hour last week talking about Abe Lincoln. The year he died? My third guess. It didn't take much for me to figure it out." Bucky stalks around to the other side of the counter: the side closer to me. "Stop changing the subject, please. Just tell me what's going on." He stares at me with so much intensity that my heart hammers clear out of my chest. At my lack of response Bucky only grows more impatient. He makes his way into the living room. He comes to stand in front of me where I can smell his familiar scent and feel his warmth on my skin despite the lack of contact. "Sadie, what the hell is going on?" His voice isn't mean, but it certainly demands a response.

I swallow hard at the confrontation. "What did Nat tell you?"

"Not enough," Bucky says. "She said you got a text last night from your father." I look away from Bucky's face, which he takes notice of. "I didn't have enough context of your relationship to know just how bad that would be. Then she said you were on the verge of a mental breakdown and she knew you'd probably be up all night stressing out about it. I thought that would've been enough for you to call me—or at least send a damn text."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Bucky repeats. He blinks real hard. "Sadie—don't be sorry. I'm not mad."

"You sure do sound like it," I mutter. I cross my arms at my chest.

Bucky sighs. "No—angel, no." He reaches up with his flesh hand to pinch the bridge of his long nose. His nostrils flare. "I'm not mad at you." He lets his hands fall back to his sides. "I just wish you would realize how much I care about you. I'm mad at whoever is terrorizing you and getting into your head so much that you can't seem to let yourself believe how much I really do fucking care."

He's right. Goddamn, Bucky's right. He's smart enough to know it, too.

"Can you please just tell me what's going on?" Bucky nearly begs. He sounds so desperate this time. He reaches out for me with both hands. They hold onto my arms that are still crossed firmly at my chest. "Please talk to me."

"It's not even that big of a deal," I lie.

"How about you explain it all to me and we can decide on that together. Yeah, princess?" He nods in hopes that I'll copy the gesture.

Craving his comfort, I let my walls collapse. I nod. Then I let him follow me back to my room where I can find my phone to show him the same text that sent me into a freaked-out frenzy the night before.

"Here," I say. I give Bucky the device and then crawl back up onto my bed. Bucky stays standing for a moment as he reads. I can see his eyes. They grow dark. His eyebrows shift together in a bundle of knotted skin.

Bucky finishes reading rather fast. He looks back up to me. "This isn't the first time this has happened, is it?"

I shake my head. "I've blocked him so many times. He just is always getting new numbers." I stare down at my hands on the pretty white sheets.

Bucky's footsteps are nearly silent. He comes to join me on the bed. I smile softly at him as he crawls into the spot that's usually empty. He locks my phone and sets it away. "When was the last time you saw your father?"

I clear my throat. It's become so stale suddenly. "When Jeremy got back from Afghanistan. He showed up at the airport like he'd been invited." I look up into Bucky's face. He's listening patiently. "But before that, it'd been since I was a teenager—when he left."

Bucky's big, warm hand settles on top of my knee. His thumb rubs in soft circles. "What he's doing isn't okay, Sadie."

"Well, it's certainly not out of character for him." I lace my fingers through Bucky's. He gives me a squeeze. It's very quiet now. All I can hear is my own gentle breathing as I try to calm myself down. Bucky's watching me very closely. His bright blue eyes are drenching themselves in every aspect of my face. I avoid his stare and instead focus on the difference in size between his hand and mine as we hold them together on the mattress.

"Do you remember what I said to you a few months ago? When you caught me being a creep about your arm and you were asking me those questions?"

Bucky gives a single nod.

I breathe. "And I said that you weren't someone that I'd be afraid of; that I didn't listen to what the rest of the world said because I'd learned who the real bad guys were a long time ago?" Again, Bucky nods patiently. He watches as I force myself to share a small smile. "It's all because of my dad." I don't know how much detail I should go into, or even how much I want to go into.

Bucky doesn't ask what my dad's done. He doesn't ask; maybe because he already knows. Maybe he assumes I'll tell him either way. Or maybe he knows I'm not ready to tell him everything yet: how the first man I was taught to love shattered my heart into a million pieces at the young age I'd been. How I clawed desperately for his love only to be tossed aside like garbage. How he'd left my whole family shattered and to live on the street when he'd run away to be with another lover. How my heart is still trying to catch up on the scars he left behind—struggling to heal them as fast as the ones he left on other tangible parts of me. How some of the things he'd said to me still leave me flinching away from mirrors or questioning the sincerity of the words that fall from Bucky's lips. How I'll never forgive that strange man called dad for being both my biggest fear and longest regret.

The fall of a single tear doesn't draw my attention until Bucky's reached up with his metal thumb to brush it away. After he's done, his palm turns to hold my cheek. I lean closer to his touch and let myself drown in the familiar metallic scent he carries.

"I'm so tired, Bucky," I whisper into his palm. My eyes are closed. "I just want him to leave me alone. I don't want to be scared of him anymore."

Bucky's hand moves away from my face. I blink my eyes open, confused at first, and then feel him picking me up by the hips. He moves me into the space between his splayed legs. I settle into his heavy embrace. Those beautiful arms of his smother me from all sides. My face nuzzles into his neck where I can smell his cologne and notice that he's shaved since we last met. Bucky's wrapped around me like a comfort blanket. We both secretly love how small and safe I feel tucked into his arms like this.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Bucky tells me. His arms tighten around me slightly. A warm hand reaches up to smooth the curls on my head. I smile dreamily into the crook of his neck. With my cheek on his shoulder I can feel his heartbeat.

Bucky's steadfast, unwavering voice of promise rumbles again. "You're the most important thing in this world. I'm going to keep you safe, Sadie; I promise. I'm going to fix this. He's not going to bother you anymore." He sighs deeply. "I promise."

And it's in that moment,in the arms of the Winter Soldier, that for the first time in my life I truly have faith that a man's promise won't be broken.