REMEMBERING HER LONG AFTER THE END OF THE WORLD

Days became weeks, and weeks stretched into months. She now laughed at how insecure she had been about Bucky - he had come home later with some bandages and medication to dull the pain. She truly believed that they would always be at each others side. 

Hunger slowly became a distant memory, and Ileana could feel the clothes beginning to cling to her body. Bucky never failed to make sure she ate something, even if there wasn't enough for himself. She always felt guilty about this, but he waved it off, saying that 'it didn't affect him the way it did her.' 

At the time, her brows drew together but she said nothing else on the topic. Bucky often said things that scrambled her thoughts, and it wasn't until the day they finally found an abandoned apartment complex in the rough part of town that he finally told her. 

They were stood right in front of the door, both of them staring at the decaying wood. Neither of them spoke about the sheer dirtiness of the door, but it was an upgrade on the previous place they'd been in. To be frank, Ileana was in awe that they'd somehow managed to find a new home. 

Nudging him so his attention was driven downwards, her hands began to move. Her left hand ached slightly, the bones never having set correctly. They read: "I don't have anything to unpack."

Bucky's features were pulled downwards, and he sighed. Words escaped him; only actions seemed to have any meaning. Reaching over, he pulled her into his body, letting the warmth of her skin thaw away his reputation. Cool liquid splashed onto his shirt, and instinctively he began stroking her back, soothing her shaking sobs. 

"It's okay, doll, neither do I." 

Minutes passed, and her shaking finally subsided. She hated that all she seemed to do was cry, yet she couldn't hold back the merciless tears from racing down her face. Her tears seemed even more pitiful when he told her his past.

Once he started confessing, the words flowed easily off of his lips, drowning her in sins and a need for redemption. Ileana tried to keep the shock off of her face, listening intently to the details of his action packed life. Sometimes she'd tell him some of the things she'd done that she's ashamed of - killing that deer by accident, leaving her family. She would sometimes talk about the guilt that had been eating at her since she'd stabbed her attacker. She told him that she wanted to know if she was a murderer or not. He always tried to reassure her, saying things like 'it was done in self defence' but all she could think about was whether or not they had a family, if they'd be mourned, if they'd be remembered. 

Bucky admitted that he couldn't remember much before H.Y.D.R.A messed with him. She felt pity for him - not even being able to mourn his older self must have taken its toll on him. And it had. He didn't know how to act, think or feel as he fled H.Y.D.R.A's clutches. He was learning.

What he didn't tell her was that she was one of the things he studied the most. Life had taken a crap on her, yet she still signed to him excitedly when she thought of a funny joke or memory to share with him. Sometimes the stories saddened him - he had none of his own to share - and she seemed to have realised this, halting her hands. She cracked her fingers, them flowing into a new sentence. 

"We can make memories together."

Words failed to show his gratitude at the gesture. She had shown him something foreign to him, something he'd been deprived of for decades. Compassion. She never realised what an effect that had on him, but he knew that he would remember it long after the end of the world. 

Sometimes he found that telling her things didn't help. At times, it felt as though there were too many stories to tell, too many sins to repent, too many bodies to count. Ileana was always up for listening, but he could tell that her opinion of him had changed. What he'd assumed was that it was for the worse, and not for the better. 

When he drowned her in his past, she couldn't help but admire him. To be able to battle through such hardship and manage to find a light at the end of the tunnel was a quality she highly valued. His courage and determination to change powered her through her down days, and even though she would never have a chance to tell him that, she hoped that he knew it. 

Still, the moment Bucky's fists tightened, she knew he'd had enough. She would smile, pat his arm and distract him with one of her many jokes she'd created when alone. Even if he didn't laugh at them, she knew he appreciated it. Any distraction was a distraction, and that was all she could give. 

If it was a particularly bad story, his entire body would freeze up. His eyes would turn glassy, and his voice morph into monotone. An eye would twitch, but that was the only reaction he showed. Ileana couldn't help fear gnaw at her bones when this happened - what if something happened and he turned back to H.Y.D.R.A? Honestly, if he ever left her, she hoped that was the reason. 

She could blame her loneliness on a cult. 

After what he'd told her, she highly doubted this would happen. They tortured him for years, emptying his mind of everything that made him him and feeding him the instruction manual on how to be a loyal soldier. The only thing that would force him to go back to that organisation would be if they activated him again. 

Ileana shook her head, as though she was willing the bad thoughts from her mind. I need to stop thinking about him leaving, she thought to herself, eyes dancing over to his hunched figure in the corner. You know he wouldn't leave. 

However a small bit of doubt still remained, and that small amount was enough to engulf her entire body. 

*

Life steadily got better. They both had finally found a way to keep clean, even if it meant sneaking down to the swimming pool nearby and borrowing other people's things. Ileana had gotten a job, as a cleaner at the local offices. It wasn't the most glamorous of jobs, but they gave her the money she earned straight away and she was now able to provide for both her and Bucky. It was a great distraction - it took her wandering thoughts away from the potential blood on her hands. Still these thoughts invaded her in the night, leaving her wide eyed and unable to move under the weight of her possible sins.

Some things had been getting better - something Ileana had considered a pipe dream - and her friendship with Bucky grew stronger. They knew each other like the back of their hand. She had heard at least all of his war stories at least twice, that plums were his favourite fruit and that he used to protect his friend Steve from street brawls most nights. He'd even shown her his metal arm, which took a lot of convincing, but he finally succumbed to it. 

When he'd removed his jacket, exposing his arms, she didn't know what to expect. To be frank, she'd expected a robot stick arm that looked to break under the slightest amount of pressure - how wrong she was. To her, it was beautiful, but so are many other things. Nothing made it special; everything made it special. 

He knew that she hated romantic movies, believing them to only exist for the dreamers, hopeless romantics and the card factories. He knew that she was mildly allergic to nuts, and that her brother once broke the shoe rack in house when he fell down the stairs. He let a small chuckle leave him when she signed to him that everyone was more concerned with the shoe rack than her brother. 

He also knew that she didn't like talking about her family, so when she did talk about it, he knew not to keep asking. 

Ileana knew that these things made her life appear to be improving, yet she wasn't too hopeful. She was right to be like that. 

Several days later, Bucky Barnes was framed with a crime he didn't commit, and the whole world was hunting him down. And as he was with her, it meant that the eyes were drawn to her too. 

Neither of them were safe.