Chapter Seven

"пожалуйста, пожалуйста, не делайте мне. нет! пожалуйста остановись!"

Malone woke to thunder. Thunder and the frantic muttering of a dreaming assassin. She looked over at James, the blanket and pillow were twisted around him. He was tossing and turning, his face scrunched up like he was in pain.

Mal opened her translation app and turned it on speaker. He was repeating the same phrase over and over. Her app informed her that he was speaking in Russian. The translation popped up seconds later. Her stomach flipped, on the bright screen of her phone the translation shone:
"Please, please, don't make me. No! Please, stop!"

Thunder boomed loudly, making Malone startle. James went silent, scarily silent. He didn't say anything for over five minutes. His face was still contorted with pain, but he was still.

Malone got up, standing over him. "James?" She whispered. He twitched, still asleep in whatever hellish nightmare he was stuck in. "Bucky?" His eyes snapped open. In a flash, he had her pinned against the wall. His metal forearm pushing hard on her throat, so that she's making horrible choking sounds. He growled at her, looking every bit like a feral animal.

"James. It's me!" She coughed out. His brow creased, and he dropped her. He scrambled away, frantic in the fact that he had hurt his only friend.

Malone was making soft hiccuping noises, and thunder boomed overhead. James froze, the thunder reminding him of something he'd rather not remember.

Mal slowly made her way over to him. She was extremely watchful, the last thing she wanted was to be choked again. He was zoned out when she walked forward. "J-James?"

His eyes, which were unfocused, settle on the blonde in front of him. James was still a careful distance away, not really trusting himself to be near her. "I'm sorry, please. Believe me, I'm sorry." Malone nodded slowly, "It's okay." He shook his head, "I could've killed you." His voice wasn't really breaking, because it was already broken.

The thought of losing the one person who he could trust was too much. He almost collapsed, but Malone's stronger-than-they-appear arms were there to catch him. She led him over to the bed, covering him with the blanket.

She fixed his newly cut hair, smoothing it out. "It's okay," Mal whispered again and again. She turned to leave, but James grabbed her hand. "Останься со мной," He whispered. Malone looked down at him, "I don't speak Russian, James."

He pulled her closer, "I said 'stay with me'."

She cautiously got into the bed, curling up beside him like a cat. He reached out to feel her hair and she flinched. James pulled back his hand, realizing that she was afraid of him.

"J-James..." Malone trails off, not quite sure where she was going with the sentence. What was she going to say? I'm not afraid of you? She wasn't a good enough liar to pull that off.

Malone moved to take his hand in hers, but he pulled away. "I'm sorry. This was.... A bad idea." He got up and moved to the makeshift bed on the floor.

"G'night, James," Mal said softly.

He didn't reply.

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Malone woke up to a scraping sound. James sat on the floor, sharpening his knives. She sat up and yawned, her blonde hair looking like a frizzy lions mane.

Mal got up and went to the small connected bathroom. After showering, changing, and brushing her hair and teeth, she finally felt refreshed. Her reflection stared back at her, almost reproachfully. A ring of yellow bruises adorned her neck, and she dabbed some concealer on it.

She watched silently as James dismantled his gun smoothly. He cleaned the different parts rigorously. He clicked it back together in less than ten seconds.

Malone suddenly thought of the alleyway where she first met James. Her mind replayed the moment she pulled the trigger, and the man falling. She had killed a man. Granted, not a nice man, but she took a humans life! He probably had a family, maybe a wife and kids. Tears swum in her eyes, what sort of person doesn't think twice about that?

James looked up, he had been expecting this. "It was you or him," he said flatly. Malone looked up at him in surprise, how had he known what she was thinking? "The reason you didn't think twice?" James continued, "'Cause you got what it takes. In a situation, you're gonna do whatever it takes to stay alive. In this game, that's more valuable than any weapon."

James stood up, handing Malone the knife and gun he had been cleaning. She took them from him in surprise, tucking the knife in her boot and the gun in the back of her waistband. He was silently telling her something, but he wasn't sure she was getting the message.

An assassin didn't just hand you their weapons. Not unless they really, really trusted you.

James was about to say just that when the first gunshot was heard.

A/N I know that it got a bit unlike Bucky there for a bit... But if you want emotional scenes it's gonna have to be like that. I'll try to keep him in character, but I guess I was trying to show a bit of the old Bucky. As for the bit about calling him James... I dunno, I've always thought of him as James. I like it better. I hope it doesn't bother anyone.