June, 2014.

South of Aberdeen, Scotland, United Kingdom.

If there was one thing to complain about in the Aberdeen house, it was the distinct lack of shower. There was also no climate control aside from a fireplace connecting the living room and bedroom and open windows. I did enjoy the fresh air, though Bucky and I both kept the curtains closed 24/7. Our paranoia created a very strong bond. But really I was only bothered by the fact that I was limited to baths.

I hadn't forced myself to settle down for a bath in months. It was a vulnerable position, like sleeping on your stomach. Scotland had forced me to face those fears.

Besides the fact I was open to attack, I wasn't found of sitting around and staring at my naked body. There were a few faint childhood scars and a long thin line from hip to hip that had healed surprisingly well. I could see how pale my legs were, since I wore pants to work nearly every day. My arms and ankles were a shade darker from the exposure they got during my daily runs. My ivory toes popped out of the water at the far end of the tub, and I wiggled them thoughtfully. Most of my cheap bubbles had dissipated within the first two minutes, and the water was beginning to cool off.

"Maybe I need nail polish," I thought out loud. I lifted my feet even higher so I could prop my heels up on the lip of the bathtub. "Red is so classic, but it's just no fun."

"Are you talking to yourself?" Bucky asked. He strode into the bathroom as if I wasn't naked in the tub and looked at me like I was the crazy one. "About nail polish?"

"What the hell?!"

I thrashed in the water and sent a small wave over the edge. Bucky startled and nearly backed into the wall. I grabbed my towel from the floor in a clumsy haste and pulled it right under water to cover myself.

"Damn it, Bucky. Now my towel is soaking wet," I grumbled. Bucky slowly relaxed but kept staring at me. "See if there's another in that cabinet."

"I've got one," he told me. He left me in the bathroom, and I pulled my knees up to my chest. The water level had dropped significantly with my panic, and I had to readjust the towel to avoid showing Bucky anything he didn't need to see. Bucky came back with a plain, black towel and carefully handed it to me with his arm completely outstretched. He looked at the floor instead of at me.

"Can I have the room?" I asked carefully. Admittedly, I was a little mad. Being walked in on was one of my worst fears while sitting in a bathtub.

"Sure. Yeah, sorry," he agreed. He retreated into the bedroom and away from my glare. I counted to fifty before tugging the drain plug out and carefully standing up. My desert tan towel ended up blocking the drain until I hung it over the faucet.

I left the bathtub and began drying myself off with the borrowed towel, propping my feet up on the edge of the tub in turn and doing an awkward dance to reach my back. Once I stopped dripping, I stepped off the rug and checked to make sure Bucky wasn't in the bedroom. With no real bathroom door and one intrusion already, I was more on edge than usual. He must have been in the living room, so I loosened the towel around my chest and began working the water out of my hair.

Then everything hit the fan over the course of roughly twenty seconds. Something fell in the floor on the other side of the house, and I dropped the towel in my state of mania. I knelt down to pick up the towel just as Bucky came back into the bedroom, but I didn't see him. He asked for a towel to wipe something off his hand, I cussed again, and hit my head on the underside of the counter.

And there I sat, in the bathroom floor with a towel barely covering my breasts and my ass and a goose egg on the back of my head.

"What the hell, Buck?" I asked calmly. This time I was more pissed at the architect involved in designing the bathroom without so much as a curtain.

"I cut my hand," he said innocently, holding out his hand for me to inspect. He had my washcloth pressed into the heel of his hand, but I was he had stemmed the bleeding already.

"I realize the thirties and forties were a hotbed of sexual sin, but when was it ever okay to walk in on a possibly naked woman if you haven't already seen her naked?" I questioned. He averted his eyes while I used the counter as a handle to stand up. After a quick grimace, he turned his back so I could fix the towel. Again.

"My memories of the thirties and forties are a little nonexistent," Bucky reminded me. "I'm sorry, though. I couldn't find a towel in the kitchen--"

"Top drawer, to the left of the sink."

"So I came in here to get one, and there you were," Bucky finished.

"I'm not going to apologize for scolding you," I warned him. "You walked in one me while I was naked. Twice within half an hour."

"I wasn't expecting an apology," he told me. "I'm not used to sharing space with someone, much less multiple rooms that I have to check before entering."

As he smiled weakly, trying to make his statement lighthearted, I gave up my grudge. His memories were coming back slowly, nearly once a week. Unfortunately, that was still only four distinct memories and a handful of foggy ones.

"Neither am I. Once I left the army and finished my SHIELD training, I got used to living on my own," I said. "Even on missions with them, each agent had their own bunk in a safe house or their own room in a cheap motel."

"I don't remember my missions all that well," Bucky said quietly. His eyes changed the way they always did when thought about his past. He had a textbook thousand yard stare, but it still startled me to see it each time. I had my own PTSD, that was for sure, but it was nothing compared to his. "I'll let you get dressed."

"Let me see your hand first," I suggested. He uncovered his hand and shoved it in my direction without looking at his bloody palm. Master assassin Winter Soldier didn't like blood.

The cut was shallow and a little over an inch long. It was enough to hurt, but barely enough to worry about.

"I saw a first aid kit under the kitchen sink, and it should have some sort of disinfectant or antiseptic," I said. "Cover it in whatever is in there, let it sit for about thirty seconds, and then pat it dry. There should be bandages too. Get one that's big enough to cover it entirely without getting the adhesive on the wound."

Bucky stared at me as I gave him the directions.

"What? Did you doubt me? I promise I know what I'm talking about. I can do far more impressive things," I bragged. Bucky smiled more genuinely as he shook his head. I kept muttering impressive things as I started brushing out my hair. "I can set a bone if I don't feel a distal pulse. I can treat a sucking chest wound. I can even say with authority the difference between allergies and a sinus infection. Because I'm a badass."

*

Author's Note:

I really just wanted to get to the next leg of their little journey, so here's another chapter. Let me know what you think!