"Do you know what it is like to actually need someone?"

-Gregory House from "House M.D."

Ophelia whimpered as Bucky grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. Stumbling as she got to her feet, she was caught by Bucky. His strong metal arm wrapped around her waist and helped keep the weight off of her wounded right hip, but it was her ribs that were killing her. Three bullet wounds, a few broken ribs, and bruises all over her body, Ophelia was in no state to be walking. She needed severe medical attention, and she feared that Bucky was bringing her back to HYDRA. Somehow, some base in the dark corners of Washington. A small part of her knew she had made a dent in finding Bucky in that head of his, but it was not going to be an easy task. 

"Where are we going?" She groaned as she forced herself to walk, but was unable to keep up to his pace.

"Don't talk," he demanded. "You'll... It'll hurt more."

She looked at him with wide, curious green eyes; this was what she was hoping for, some humanity that she could work with. He wasn't trying to kill her right now, and she didn't want that to change. This was something. This was a start into getting into his head. Being able to link with him back when she was drowning might have saved her, as he was able to find her quickly, and it might have broken down one of the many walls that had been put up in his head to stop her from getting in. She could only hope, and continue trying. His head was like a jigsaw puzzle, and she just had to locate the missing pieces. 

"Wait..." She groaned, tripping over a rise in the ground below her. As she fell, Bucky did not catch her. Instead, despite her cries of pain, he knelt down beside her, dirtying his wet, black pants and picked her up. With one arm across her shoulder blades, as to not injure her ribs, and another under her knees, he lifted her up and began walking again. She could feel his human arm shaking in pain; his shoulder had been dislocated, and from the looks of it, he had popped it back in himself. When that happened, she wasn't sure, but presumed it was before he went in to save her from drowning. 

The things he was capable of frightened her. 

The sirens in the background were alarming; Ophelia had still not gotten used to the sounds of this new world. They walked for what felt like an hour, but Ophelia had lost consciousness more than once. When she woke for the fourth or fifth time, she was not being carried anymore. The room she was in was dark, dim orange light coming from the lamp across from her. Panic flowed through her like a river and she began to fight, the surface she was on was soft, and she scurried back as far as she could. Pain shot through her entire body and she whimpered, regretting her quick movements. Her bare back pressed against the cool wall as she looked around, trying to assess the situation she was in. 

Where was she?

Her initial thoughts was that she was back in some HYDRA base, ready to be tortured and maimed, brainwashed and erased. Erased from HYDRA, erased from the world. They wouldn't have bothered waiting for her to wake, would they? Wanting one final bout of torture before they killed her? When she realized that the wallpaper all around her was peeling, faded cream paint chipping behind that, Ophelia knew that she was nowhere near HYDRA, but she was also far from Steve, Sam, Natasha, Fury and the rest of the people she had learned to trust. Racking her brain for memories, she recalled that Bucky had pulled her along after saving her from drowning.

Her eyes darted around to find him.

There. 

In the corner of the room. The glimmer of his metal arm caught her attention, and then the darkness that shrouded his face. As she relaxed, knowing that he probably had no intentions to kill her anymore, the aches throughout her body seemed to creep back up on her, the adrenaline passing. She glanced down and saw that her body had been wrapped with gauze, and she was wearing her sports bra and her pants. The sheets were stained with her blood. She looked down and saw that Bucky had put a tourniquet on her thigh to stop the bleeding from that wound, but he had done nothing but cover her hip wound with a damp face towel. Her shoulder was wrapped along with her ribs.

"You did this?" she asked, never having been taken care of like this. It was a strange thing, the person who did all of this to her was the one wrapping her up. Although it was not so different than her experience with HYDRA, they tortured and maimed her before wrapping her up and tossing her back in her cell, there was obviously some care and attention to detail to the medical attention Bucky had given her.

"Yes."

"Where are we?" She had to squint to see Bucky in the dark corner of the room.

"A... motel," he said, leaning over his legs and bringing his face into the light. He had multiple dark bruises, but looked in good shape other than that. Better shape than her, that was for sure.

"How..." Ophelia ground her teeth together as she tried to adjust; she had backed herself up against the headboard of the double bed she was on. "How did you get us in? You're going to be wanted by every government organization that is still up and running. HYDRA too."

"That's not important," he stated. "We're safe here, for now."

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, looking around the room again. The window was cracked open. She could tell that it was late in the evening, if not nighttime by now.

"You know who I am."

"Yes," she said. "I do. I did..."

"Who... what am I?"

"Your name was James," she told him; it was safer to give him little bits at a time. All she wanted to do was spill everything, but it was dangerous. If she was going to explain everything to him, at least everything she knew, it was going to be a big shock. Too much would overwhelm him, and if he was looking to do better by himself, she didn't want to start with the horrors. She wished Steve was there to help. She wondered if he was even still alive.

"James Buchanan Barnes," Bucky said his full name, then referred to Steve. "He told me."

Ophelia opened her lips to speak, but Bucky cut her off, his tone eager to learn. "Who was he?"

"I think you know the answer to that question," she said, but it was too soon to be giving him guessing games.

"Don't!" He shouted, his metal arm responding at lighting speed. He hit the lamp and it was knocked off of the table, but it did not break as it clattered to the ugly carpet floor. "Don't test me. I brought you here for answers, and if you can't give them, I have... no use of you."

That stung Ophelia, causing her to lose her words. But she sensed his hesitation and understood that he was scared. She stared at Bucky, still seeing hardly any trace of the man he had once been. This was a mission that was far beyond her. She could shoot and run and hunt, but when it came to something this psychological and deep, she was struggling. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You were in the war, back in the 1940's," she carried on as he calmed down, but still sat rigid in his seat. "There was an accident and you were thought to be dead."

"The train..." he muttered, his trigger word coming from his lips in Russian, freight car.

"Yes, good." She was getting somewhere. "Can... Can I have some water?"

"After."

"Please," she begged, her throat was bone dry. "I just need some water and I'll go on."

Bucky stood up so quickly that Ophelia thought he was attacking her; out of habit she raised her hands above her head, only causing agony to her ribs. As she whimpered in pain, she saw that Bucky had not moved to attack her, only to grab her some water. There had been a cup beside him, and it looked tiny in his metal hand as he gripped it. Walking over to the bed, only taking three of his long strides to arrive beside her, he put one knee on the bed and brought the cup to Ophelia's lips. She brought her own hand up and touched her fingers to Bucky's human hand, gently touching him instinctively. He felt so warm.

Bucky looked down at the skin to skin contact between them, his eyes slowly trailing over their hands, as if trying to understand the familiarity of it. He looked up at Ophelia again, his blue eyes an ocean of confusion, and her green eyes the solid earth that would help him become grounded again. The bed shifted as he put a small amount of weight upon his knee, and then pushed himself from the bed. Placing the cup on the table beside Ophelia, Bucky stared for just a moment, and a small shake of his head suggested he was fighting something in his own mind. 

He looked away.